[9]
Extracted from Sir Alexander Burnes' "Bokhara."
Extracted from Sir Alexander Burnes' "Bokhara."
Very little is known in Europe of this part of Tartary; and why? Because the Emperor of China, who reigns over it, does not like travellers to go there.
It is divided by high and snowy mountains from the rest of Tartary. When a traveller has passed over these mountains, he finds on the other side Chinese officers, who inquire what business he has come upon. If he have come only to wander about the country, he is desired to go home again; because the Chinese are afraid lest strangers should send spies, and then ARMIES—to conquer their empire.
One traveller, because he stayed too long in Tartary, was imprisoned for three months; and before he was let go, a picture of him was taken. What was done with this picture? It was copied, and the copies were sent to various towns on the borders of Chinese Tartary, with this command, "If the man, who is like this picture, enter the country, his head is the Emperor's,and his property isyours." Happily the traveller heard of this command, and was never seen again in the country. You see how cunning it was of the Chinese to allow any one who killed the traveller to have his property; for thus they made it the interest of all to kill him.
There is one city in Chinese Tartary where many strangers come to trade with the people. It is called Yarkund. There caravans arrive from Pekin, laden with tea, after a journey of five months over the wilds of Tartary. Then merchants come from Bokhara to buy the tea, and to carry it home, where it is so much liked.
This land is not a desert. Yet there are but few trees, and because there is so little shade, the rivulets are soon dried up. Yet it might be a fruitful land, if the inhabitants would plant and sow. But they prefer wandering about in tents, and living upon plunder, to settling in one place and living by their labor. The Tartar has good reason for roaming over his plains, because the land is bad; but the Affghan has no reason, but theloveof roaming.
The plains of Affghanistan are sultry, but the mountains are cool; for their tops are covered with snow. The shepherds feed their flocks on the plains during the winter; but in the spring they lead them to the mountains to pass the summer there. Then the air is filled with the sweet scent of clover and violets. The sheep often stop to browse upon the fresh pasture; but they are not suffered to linger long. The children have the charge of the lambs; an old goat or sheep goes before to encourage the lambs toproceed, and the children follow with switches of green grass. Many a little child who can only just run alone, enjoys the sport of driving the young lambs. The tents are borne on the backs of camels. The men are terrible-looking creatures, tall, large, dark, and grim, with shaggy hair and long black beards. They wear great turbans of blue check and handsome jackets, and cloaks of sheep-skin; they carry in their girdles knives as large as a butcher's; and on their shoulders a shield and a gun.
Besides these wild wanderers, there are some Affghans who live in houses.
Cabool, the capital, is a fine city, and the king dwells in a fine citadel. The bazaar is the finest in all Asia. It is like a street with many arches across it; and these people sell all kinds of goods.
But what is a finebazaarcompared to a beautifulgarden?Cabool is surrounded by gardens: the most beautiful is the king's. In the midst is an octagon summer-house, where eight walks meet, and all the walks are shaded by fruit-trees. Here grow, as in Bokhara, the best fruits to be found in an English garden, only much larger and sweeter. The same kind of birds, too, which sing in England sing among its branches, even the melodious nightingale. It is the chief delight of the people of Cabool to wander inthe gardens: they come there every evening, after having spent the day in sauntering about the bazaar; for they are an idle people, talking much and working little.
The noise in the city is so great that it is difficult to make a friend hear what you say: it is not the noise of rumbling wheels as in London, for there are no wheeled carriages, but the noise of chattering tongues.
The Affghans are a temperate people; they live chiefly upon fruit with a little bread; and as they are Mahomedans, they avoid wine, and drink instead iced sherbets, made of the juice of fruits. In winter excellentdriedfruits supply the place of fresh.
But the Affghan, though living on fruits, is far from being a harmless and amiable character; on the contrary, he is cruel, covetous, and treacherous. Much British blood has been shed in the valleys of Affghanistan.
We cannot blame the Affghans for defending their own country. It was natural for them to ask, "What right has Britain to interfere with us?"
A British army was once sent to Affghanistan to force the people to have a king they did not like, instead of one they did like.
I will tell you of a youth who accompanied his father to the wars. This boy looked forward with delightto going as a soldier to a foreign land, and his heart beat high when the trumpet sounded to summon the troops to embark. Joyfully he quitted Bombay, crossed the Indian Ocean, and landed near the mouth of the Indus. When the army began its march towards Affghanistan, he rode on a pony by his father's side.
At first it seemed pleasant to pitch the tent in a new spot every day, to rest during the heat, and to travel in the dead of the night, till the sun was high in the sky. But soon this way of life was found fatiguing, for the heat was great, and the water scarce. The air, too, was clouded by the dust the troops raised in marching; and green grass was seldom seen, or a shady tree under which to rest. The food, too, was dry and stale, and no fresh food could be procured, for the Affghans, before they fled, destroyed the corn and fruit growing in the fields, that their enemies might not eat them. The camels, too, which bore the baggage of the British army, grew ill from heat and thirst; for it is not true that camels can livelongwithout water; in three or four days they die. Besides this, the hard rocks in the hilly country hurt their feet, and hastened their death. Many a camel died as it was seeking to quench its thirst at a narrow stream in the valley, and its dead body falling intothe water, polluted it. Yet this water the soldiers drank, for they had no other, and from drinking it they fell ill. The father of the youthful soldier was one of these, and he was compelled to stop on the way for several weeks; and because the heat of a tent was too great, he took shelter in a ruined building. Here his son nursed him with a heavy heart. Where was the delight the youth had expected to find in a soldier's life?
At last the British army reached a strong fort built on the top of a hill; Guznee was its name. Its walls and gates were so strong that it seemed impossible to get into the city; yet the British knew that if they didnot, they must die either by the Affghan sword, or by hunger and thirst among the rocks. For some time they were much perplexed and distressed. At last a thought came into the mind of a British captain, "Let us blow up the gates with gunpowder." The plan was good; but how to perform it,—there was the difficulty. Soon all was arranged. In the night some sacks of gunpowder were laid very softly against the gates; but as no one could set fire to the sacks whencloseto them, a long pipe of cloth was filled with gunpowder, and stretched like a serpent upon the ground; one end of the pipe touched the sack, and the other end was to be set on fire. Butbefore the match was applied, a British officer peeped through a chink in the gates to see what the Affghans were doing within. Behold! they were quietly smoking, and eating their supper, not suspecting any danger! The match was applied—the gunpowder exploded, and the strong gates were shattered into a thousand pieces; the army rushed in sword in hand, and the Affghans fled in wild confusion.
Where was our young soldier? He was running into the fort between two friendly soldiers, who kindly helped him on; each of them was holding one of his arms, and assisting him to keep up with the troops, as they rushed through the gates. As he ran, he heard horrible cries, but the darkness hindered him from seeing the dying Affghans rolling in the dust, only he felt their soft bodies as he hastily passed over them. He heard his fellow-soldiers shouting and firing on every side. Some fell close beside him, and others were wounded, and carried off on the shoulders of their comrades, screaming with agony.
Half an hour after the gates were fired, the city was taken. The news of the victory spread among the Affghans on the mountains, and the plains, and the whole country submitted to the British.
The army soon marched to Cabool, that proud city. No one opposed their entrance, and the bazaar, andthe king's garden, and the royal citadel were visited by our soldiers.
After spending two months in beautiful Cabool, resting their weary limbs and feasting on fine fruits, the army was ordered to return home. They began to march again towards the coast, a distance of fifteen hundred miles, over cragged rocks, and scorching plains.
In the course of this terrible journey, the father of the young soldier again fell ill, and was forced to stop by the way. His affectionate son nursed him night and day; closed his eyes in death, and saw him laid in a lowly grave in the desert. With a bleeding heart the youth embarked to return to Bombay.
During the voyage, a furious storm arose, and all on board despaired of life.Thenit was the youth remembered the prayers he had offered up by his dying father's bed;thenit was he felt he had not turned to God with all his heart, andthenit was he vowed, that if the Lord would spare him thisonce, he would seek his face in truth. God heard and spared.
And did the youth remember his prayers and vows? He did, though not atfirst,—yet after a little while hedid. He read the word of God, he prayed for the Spirit of God, and at length he enjoyed the peace of God; and now he neither fears storm nor sword, because Christ is his shelter and his shield.
Just underneath Affghanistan, lies Beloochistan, by the sea coast. It is separated from India by the river Indus. You may know a Beloochee from an Affghan by his stiff red cotton cap, in the shape of a hat without a brim; whereas, an Affghan wears a turban. Yet the religion of the Beloochee is the same as that of the Affghan, namely, the Mahomedan, and the character is alike, only the Beloochee is the fiercer of the two: the country also is alike, being wild and rocky.
Beloochistan has not been conquered by the British: it has a king of its own; yet the British have fought against Beloochistan. On one occasion a British army was sent to punish the king of Beloochistan for not having sent corn to us, as he had promised.
The army consisted of three thousand men, and amongst them was the young soldier, of whom you have heard so much already. His father was ill atthe time, and could not fight; but the youth came upon his pony, with a camel to carry his tent, and all his baggage.
The troops as usual marched in the night. In the morning, about eight o'clock, they first caught sight of Kelat, the capital of Beloochistan. It was a grand sight, for the city is built on a high hill, with a citadel at the top. The dark Beloochees were seen thronging about the walls and the towers, gazing at the British army, but not daring to approach them.
Our soldiers, when they first arrived, were too much tired to begin the attack, and therefore they rested on the grass for two hours. At ten o'clock the word of command was given, and the attack was made. The British planted their six cannons opposite the gates, and began to fire.
Where was the young soldier? He was commanded to run with his company close up to the wall, and there to remain. As he ran, he was exposed to the full fire of the enemy. The youth heard bullets whizzing by as he passed, and he expected every moment that some ball would lay him low; but through the mercy of God he reached the wall in safety.Closeunderneath the wall was not a dangerous post, for the bullets passed over the heads of those standing there.
About noon, the British cannons had destroyed the gates. Then the British soldiers rushed into the town. Amongst the first to enter was the young soldier; because when the gates fell he was standing close by. As he passed along the streets, he saw no one but the dead and the dying; for the Beloochees had fled for refuge to their citadel on the top of the hill. The king himself was there.
The citadel was a place very difficult for an enemy to enter; for the entrance was through a narrow dark passage underground. Into this passage the British soldiers poured, but soon they came to a door, which they could not get through, for Beloochee soldiers stood there, sword in hand, ready to cut down any one who approached. "Look at my back," said one soldier to his fellow. The other looked, and beheld the most frightful gashes gaping wide and bleeding freely. Such were the wounds that each soldier, who ventured near that door, was sure to receive.
At this moment a cry was heard, saying, "Another passage is found." When the Beloochees heard this cry, they gave up all hopes of keeping the enemy out of the citadel; so they left off fighting, and cried "Peace."
But their king was already dead; he had fallen on the threshold of the passage last found. Thefirstman who tried to get in by that way thekinghadkilled; but thesecondhad killed the king. The British, as they rushed in by this new way, trampled on the body of the fallen monarch. He was a splendid object even in death; his long dark ringlets were flowing over his glittering garments, and his sharp sword, with its golden hilt, was in his hand. The British hurried by, and climbed the steep and narrow stairs leading to the top of the citadel, and the enemy no longer durst oppose their course.
On the terrace at the top of the citadel, in the open air, stood the nobles of Beloochistan. There were princes too from the countries all around. It was a magnificent assembly. These men were the finest of a fine race. Some were clad in shining armor, and others in flowing garments of green and gold. Thus they stood for amoment, and thenext—they were rolling on the ground!!
How was this? Had not peace been agreed upon on both sides? Yes, but a British soldier had attempted to take away the sword of one of the princes. The prince had resisted, and with his sword, had wounded the soldier; and instantly every British gun on that spot had been pointed at the nobles of Beloochistan.
This was why the nobles were lying in the agonies of death.
Our young soldier was not one of those who slew the nobles. He was standing on another part of the terrace, when, hearing a tremendous volley of guns, he exclaimed to a friend, "What can that be?" Going forward, he beheld heaps of bleeding bodies, turbans, and garments—in one confused mass. The dying were calling for water, and the very soldiers who had shot them, were holding cups to their quivering lips, though themselves parched with thirst. But water could not save the lives of the fallen nobles: one by one they ceased to cry out, and soon—all were silent—and all were still. The VICTORY was WON! But how awful had been the last scene! How cruelly, how unjustly, had the lives of that princely assembly been cut short!
The conquerors returned that evening to their camp. On their way, they passed through the desolate streets of the city; the mud cottages on each side were empty, and blood flowed between. The young officer, as he marched at the head of his company, was struck by seeing a row of his own fellow-soldiers lying dead upon the ground. They had been placed there ready for burial on the morrow. Their ghastly faces, and gaping wounds were terrible to behold. The youth remembered them full of life and spirits in the morning, unmindful of their dismal end;thenhe felt howmerciful God had been in sparing his life; and when he crept into his little tent that night, he returned him thanks upon his knees; though he did not love himthenas his Saviour from eternal death. Wearied, he soon fell asleep, but his sleep was broken by dreadful dreams of blood and death.
The next day he walked through the conquered town, and saw the British soldiers dragging the dead bodies of their enemies by ropes fastened to their feet. They were dragging them to their grave, which was a deep trench, and there they cast them in and covered them up with earth.
Such is the history of the conquest of Kelat.[10]How many souls were suddenly hurled into eternity! How many unprepared to meet their Judge, because their sins were unpardoned, and their souls unwashed! But in war, who thinks of souls and sins! O horrible war! How hateful to the Prince of Peace!
[10]
September 13, 1839.
September 13, 1839.
Of all the kings in Asia, the king of Burmah is the greatest, next to the emperor of China. He has not indeed nearly as large a kingdom, or as many subjects as that emperor; but like him, he is worshipped by his people. He is called "Lord of life and death," and the "Owner of the sword," for instead of holding asceptrein his hand, he holds a golden sheathedsword. A sword indeed suits him well, for he is very cruel to his subjects. Nowhere are such severe punishments inflicted. For drinking brandy the punishment is, pouring molten lead down the throat; and for running away from the army, the punishment is, cutting off both legs, and leaving the poor creature to bleed to death. A man for choosing to be a Christian was beaten all over the body with a wooden mallet, till he was one mass of bruises; but before he was dead, he was let go.
Every one is much afraid of offending this cruel king. The people tremble at the sound of his name;and when they see him, they fall down with their heads in the dust. The king makes any one a lord whom he pleases, yet he treats even his lords very rudely. When displeased with them, he will hunt them out of the room with his drawn sword. Once he made forty of his lords lie upon their faces for several hours, beneath the broiling sun, with a great beam over them to keep them still. It was well for them that the king did not send for the men with spotted faces. Who are those men? The executioners. Their faces are always covered with round marks tattooed in the skin. The sight of these spotted faces fills all the people with terror. Every one runs away at the sight of a spotted face, and no one will allow a man with a spotted face to sit down in his house. In what terror the poor Burmese must live, not knowing when the order for death will arrive. Yet the king is so much revered, that when he dies, instead of saying, "He is dead," the people say, "He is gone to amuse himself in the heavenly regions"
The king has a great many governors under him, and they are as cruel as himself. A missionary once saw a poor creature hanging on a cross. He inquired what the man had done, and finding that he was not a murderer, he went to the governor to entreat him to pardon the man. For a long while the governor refusedto hear him: but at last he gave him a note, desiring the crucified man to be taken down from the cross. Would you believe it?—the Burmese officers were so cruel that they would not toke out the nails, till the missionary had promised them apiece of clothas a reward! When the man was released, he was nearly dead, having been seven hours bleeding on the cross; but he was tenderly nursed by the missionary, and at last he recovered. Yet all the agonies of a cross had not changed the man's heart, and he returned to his old way of life as a thief. Had he believed in that Saviour who was nailed to a cross for his sins, he would, like the dying thief, have repented. Though the Burmese are so unfeeling to each other, they think it wrong to kill animals, and never eat any meat, except the flesh of animals who have died of themselves. Even the fishermen think they shall be punished hereafter for catching fish; but they say, "We must do it, or we shall be starved." You may be sure that such a people must have some false and foolish religion; and so they have, as you will see.
IDOL CAR AND PAGODA. p. 203.
IDOL CAR AND PAGODA. p. 203.
RELIGION.—It is the religion of Buddha. This Buddha was a man who was born at Benares, in India, more than two thousand years ago; and people say, that for his great goodness was made a boodh, or a god. Yet the Burmese do not think he is alivenow; they say he is resting as a reward for his goodness. Why then do they pray to him, if he cannot hear them? They pray because they think it is very good to pray, and that they shall be rewarded for it some day. What reward do they expect? It is this—torestas Buddha does—to sleep forever and ever. This is the reward they look for. Every one in Burmah thinks he has been born a great many times into the world,—now as an insect,—now as a bird,—now as a beast, and he thinks that because he was very good,—as a reward he was made aman. Then he thinks that if he is very good as apoorman, he shall be born next time to be arichman; and at last, that he will be allowed to rest like Buddha himself. What is it to be good? The Burmese say that the greatest goodness is making an idol, and next to that, making a pagoda. You know what an idol is, but do you know what a pagoda is? It is a house, with an idolhiddeninside, and it has no door, nor window, therefore no one can get into a pagoda. Some pagodas are very large, and others very small. As it is thought so very good to make idols and pagodas, the whole land is filled with them; the roads in some places are lined with them; the mountains are crowned with them.
Next to making idols, and building pagodas, it is considered good to make offerings. You may see thefather climbing a steep hill to reach a pagoda, his little one by his side, and plucking green twigs as he goes. He reaches the pagoda, and strikes the great bell, then enters the idol-house near the pagoda, and teaches his young child how to fold its little hands, and to raise them to its forehead, while it repeats a senseless prayer; then leaving the green twigs at the idol's feet, the father descends with his child in his arms. How many little ones, such as Jesus once took in his arms, are taught every day to serve Satan.
The people who are thought the best in Burmah, are the priests. Any one that pleases may be a priest. The priests pretend to be poor, and go out begging every morning with their empty dishes in their hands; but they get them well filled, and then return to the handsome house, all shining with gold, in which they live together in plenty and in pride. They are expected to dress in rags, to show that they are poor; but not liking rags, they cut up cloth in little pieces, and sew the pieces together to make their yellow robes; and this they call wearing rags. They pretend to be so modest, that they do not like to show their faces, and so hide them with a fan, even when they preach; for they do preach in their way, that is, they tell foolish stories about Buddha. The name they give him is Guadama, while the Chinesecall him Fo. They have five hundred and fifty stories written in their books about him; for they say he was once a bird, a fly, an elephant, and all manner of creatures, and was so good whatever he was, that at last he was born the son of a king.
CHARACTER.—The Burmese are a blunt and rough people. They are not like the Chinese and the Hindoos, ready to pay compliments to strangers. When a Burmese has finished a visit, he says, "I am going," and his friend replies, "Go." This is very blunt behavior. But all blunt people are not sincere. The Burmese are very deceitful, and tell lies on every occasion; indeed, they are not ashamed of their falsehoods. They are also very proud, because they fancy they were so good before they were born into this world. All the kind actions they do are in the hope of getting more merit, and this bad motive spoils all they do. They are kind to travellers. In every village there is a pretty house, called a Zayat, where travellers may rest. As soon as a guest arrives, the villagers hasten to wait upon him;—one brings a clean mat, another a jug of water, and a third a basket of fruit. But why is all this attention shown? In the hope of getting merit. The Burmese resemble the Chinese in their respect to their parents. They are better than the Chinese in their treatment of their children, for theyare kind to thegirlsis well as to the boys; neither do they destroy any of their infants. They are temperate also, not drinking wine,—having only two meals in the day, and then not eating too much. In these points they are to be approved. They are, however, very violent in their tempers; it is true they are not very easily provoked, but when they are angry, they use very abusive language. Thus you see they are by no means an amiable people.
APPEARANCE.—In their persons they are far less pleasing than the Hindoos; for instead ofslenderfaces and figures, they have broad faces and thick figures. But they have not such dark complexions as the Hindoos.
They disfigure themselves in various ways. To make their skins yellow, they sprinkle over them a yellow powder. They also make their teeth black, because they say they do not wish to have white teeth like dogs and monkeys. They bore their ears, and put bars of gold, or silver, or marble through the holes.
The women wear a petticoat and a jacket. The men wear a turban, a loose robe, and a jacket; they tie up their hair in a knot behind, and tattoo their legs, by pricking their skin, and then putting in black oil. They have the disagreeable custom of smoking,and of chewing a stuff called "coon," which they carry in a box.
Every one (except the priests) carries an umbrella to guard him from the sun; the king alone has a white one; his nobles have gilded umbrellas; the next class have red umbrellas; and the lowest have green.
FOOD.—Burmah is a pleasanter country than Hindostan, for it is not so hot, and yet it is as fruitful. The people live chiefly upon rice; but when they cannot get enough, they find abundance of leaves and roots to satisfy their hunger.
ANIMALS.—There are many tigers, but no lions. The Burmese are fond of adorning their houses with statues of lions, but never having seen any, they make very strange and laughable figures. The pride of Burmah is her elephants; but they all belong to the king, and none may ride upon one but himself, and his chief favorite. Carriages are drawn by bullocks, or buffaloes; and there are horses for riding, so the Burmese can do very well without the elephants. The king thinks a great deal too much of these noble animals. There was a white elephant that he delighted in so much, that he adorned it with gold, and jewels, and counted it next to himself in rank, even above the queen.
HOUSES.—The Burmese build their houses on posts, so that there is an empty place under the floors. Dogs and crows may often be seen walking under the houses, eating whatever has fallen through the cracks of the floor.
The king allows none but the nobles to build houses of brick and stone; the rest build them of bamboos. This law is unpleasant; but there is another law which is a great comfort to the poor. It isthis;—any one may have land who wishes for it. A man has only to cultivate a piece of spare land, and it is counted his,as longas he continues to cultivate it; therefore all industrious people have gardens of their own.
Among the mountains of Burmah, there are a wild people called the Karens, very poor and very ignorant; yet some have attended to the voice of the missionaries. They are not so proud as the Burmese; for they have no gods at all, and no books at all: they have not filled their heads with five hundred and fifty stories about Gaudama; therefore they are more ready to listen to the history of Jesus.
The Karens live in houses raised from the ground,and so large is the place underneath, that they keep poultry and pigs there. Every year they move to a new place, and build new houses, clear a new piece of ground, by burning the weeds, dig it up, and sow rice. Thus they wander about, and they number their years by the number of houses they have lived in.
Of all the Eastern nations, they sing and play the most sweetly, and when they become Christians, they sing hymns, very sweetly indeed.
There is one Christian village among the mountains, called Mata, which means love; and every morning the people meet together in the Zayat, or travellers' house, to sing and pray. Before they were Christians, the Karens were in constant fear of the Nats; (notinsects, but evil spirits), and sometimes in order to please their Nats, they were so cruel as to beat a pig to death. The Christian Karens have left off such barbarous practices, and have become kind and compassionate. When the missionaries told them that they ought to love one another, some of them went secretly the next day to wait upon a poor leper, and upon a woman covered with sores. Another day, without being asked, they collected some money and brought it to the missionaries, saying, they wished to set free a poor Burman who had been imprisoned forChrist's sake. It is cheering to the missionaries to see them turning from their sins.[11]
This city was once the capital of Burmah, and then it was called the "golden city." But now the king lives in another city, and the glory of Ava has passed away.
This city, though in Burmah, may be called a British city, because the British built it; for they have conquered great part of Burmah. There are missionaries there. One there is, named Judson, who has turned more than a hundred Burmese to the Lord. But he has known great troubles. His wife and his little girl shared in these troubles.
I will now relate the history of the short life of little Maria Judson.
The missionary's babe, little Maria, was born in a cottage by the side of a river, and very near the walls of the great city of Ava, where the king dwelt.
It was a wooden cottage, thatched with straw, and screened by a verandah from the burning sun. It was not like an English cottage, for it was built on high posts, that the cool air might play beneath. It contained three small rooms all on one floor. The country around was lovely; for the green banks of the river were adorned with various colored flowers and with trees laden with fine fruits.
In this pretty cottage, the infant Maria was lulled in her mother's arms to sleep, and often the tears rolling down the mother's cheeks, fell upon the baby's fair face. Why did the mother weep? It was for her husband she wept. He was not dead, but he was in prison. He was a missionary, and the king of Ava had imprisoned him in the midst of the great city. Was his wife left all alone with her babe in her cottage? No, there were two little Burmese girls there. They were the children of heathen parents, and they had been received by the kind lady into her cottage, and now they were learning to worship God. Their new names were, Mary, and Abby. There were also twomen servants, of dark complexion, dressed in white cotton, and wearing turbans. It was a sorrowful little household, because the master of the family was absent, because he was in distress, and his life was in danger. Every day his fond wife visited him in his prison. She left her babe under the care of Mary, and set out with a little basket in her hand. After walking two miles through the streets of Ava, she came to some high walls—she knocked at the gate—a stern-looking man opened it. The lady, passing through the gates, entered a court. In one corner of the court, there was a little shed made of bamboos, and near it, upon a mat, eat a pale, and sorrowful man. His countenance brightens when he perceives the lady enter. She refreshes him with the nice food she has brought in her basket, and comforts him with sweet and heavenly words:—then hastens to return to her babe. As soon as she enters her cottage, she sinks back, half fainting, in her rocking-chair, while she folds again her little darling in her arms. Happy babe! thy parents are suffering for Jesus—and they are blessed of the Lord, and their baby with them.
Greater sorrows still, soon befell the little family. One day, a messenger came to the cottage, with the sad tidings that the bamboo hut had been torn down, the mat, and pillow taken away, and the prisoner,laden with chains, thrust into the inner prison. The loving wife hastened to the governor of the city to ask for mercy; but she could obtain none, only she was permitted to see her husband. Andwhata sight! He was shut up in a room with a hundred men, and without awindow!!Though the weather was hot no breath of air reached the poor prisoners, but through the cracks in the boards. No wonder that the missionary soon fell ill of a fever. His wife, fearing he would die, determined to act like the widow in the parable, and to weary the unjust judge by her entreaties. She left her quiet cottage, and built a hut of bamboos at the governor's gate, and there she lived with her babe, and the little Burmese girls. The prison was just opposite the governor's gate, so that the anxious wife had now the comfort of being near her suffering husband. The governor was wearied by her importunity, and at last permitted her to build again a bamboo hovel for the prisoner in the court of the prison. The sick man was brought out of the noisome dungeon, and was laid upon his mat in the fresh air. He was supplied with food and medicine by his faithful wife, and he began to recover.
But in three days, a change occurred. Suddenly the poor wife heard that her beloved had been dragged from his prison, and taken, she knew not where. Sheinquired of everybody she saw, "Where is he gone?" but no answer could she obtain. At last the governor told her, that his prisoner was taken to a great city, named A-ma-ra-poora. This city was seven miles from Ava. The wife decided in a moment what to do. She determined to follow her husband. Taking her babe in her arms, and accompanied by the Burmese children, and one servant, she set out. She went to the city up the river in a covered boat, and thus she was sheltered from the scorching sun of an Indian May. But when she arrived at Amarapoora, she heard that her husband had been taken to a village six miles off. To this village she travelled in a clumsy cart drawn by oxen. Overcome with fatigue, she arrived at the prison, and saw her poor husband sitting in the court chained to another prisoner, and looking very ill. He had neither hat, nor coat, nor shoes, and his feet were covered with wounds he had received, as he had been driven over the burning gravel on the way to the prison: but his wounds had been bound up by a kind heathen servant, who had torn up his own turban to make bandages.
When the missionary saw his wife approaching with her infant, he felt grieved on her account, and exclaimed, "Why have you come? You cannot live here?" But she cared not where she lived, so thatshe could be near her suffering husband. She wished to build a bamboo hut at the prison gate: but the jailor would not allow her. However, he let her live in a room of his own house. It was a wretched room, with no furniture but a mat. Here the mother and the children slept that night, while the servant, wrapped in his cloth, lay at the door. They had no supper that night. Next day, they bought food in the village, with some silver that the lady kept carefully concealed in her clothes.
A new trouble soon came upon them. Mary was seized with a small-pox of a dreadful sort. Who now was to help the weak mother to nurse the little Maria? Abby was too young. The babe was four months old, and a heavy burden for feeble arms; yet all day long the mother carried it, as she went to and fro from the sick child to the poor prisoner. Sometimes, when it was asleep, she laid it down by the side of her husband. He was able to watch asleepingbabe, but not to nurse a babeawake, owing to his great weakness, and to his mangled feet. Soon the babe herself was attacked by the small-pox, and continued very ill for three months. This last trial was too much for the poor mother. Her strength failed her, and for many weeks she lay upon her mat unable to rise. She must have perished, if it had not beenfor the faithful servant. He was a native of Bengal, and a heathen. Yet he was so much concerned for his sick mistress and imprisoned master, that he would sometimes go without food all day, while he was attending to their wants; and he did all without expecting any wages.
The poor little infant was in a sad case now its mother was lying on the mat. It cried so much for milk, that once its father got leave to carry it round the village to ask the mothers who had babes, to give some milk to his. By this plan, the little creature was quieted in the day, but at night its cries were most distressing.
The time at length arrived, when these trials were to end. The king sent for the missionary, not to put him to death, as he had once intended, but to ask for his help. What help could he render to the king? The reason why the missionary had been imprisoned so long was, that a British army had attacked Burmah. The king had feared, lest the missionary should take part with the enemy, and therefore he had shut him up. Now there were hopes of peace, and an interpreter was wanted to help the Burmese to speak with the British. The missionary knew both the English language and the Burmese, and he could explain to the king what the English general would say.
For this purpose he was brought to Ava. He was not driven along the road like a beast, but relieved from his chains, and treated with less cruelty than formerly. Yet he was still a prisoner.
The mother was now well enough to make a journey, though still very weak. She returned to her cottage by the river-side, and soon she had the delight of seeing her husband enter it. It was seventeen months since he had been torn from it by the king's officers, and ever since, he had been groaning in irons. But he was not now come to remain in his cottage, but only to obtain a little food and clothing to take with him to the Burmese camp. His wife felt cheered on his account, hoping that as an interpreter he would be well treated.
No sooner was he gone, than she was seized with that deadly disease, called spotted fever. What now would become of little Maria? Through the tender mercy of God, on the very day the mother fell ill, a Burmese woman offered to nurse the babe. Every day the mother grew worse, till at last the neighbors came in to see her die. As they stood around, they exclaimed, in their Burmese tongue, "She is dead, and if the king of angels should come in, he could not recover her."Theirking of angels couldnot, butherKING of ANGELS could, for he can raise the dead.But this dear lady wasnotdead, though nearly dead.
The Lord of life showed her mercy. A friend entered the sick chamber. It was Dr. Price, a missionary and a prisoner, but who had obtained leave from the king to visit the sick lady. He understood her case, and he ordered her head to be shaved, and blisters to be applied to her feet. From that time, she began to recover, and in a month, she had strength to stand up. The governor, who had once been so slow to hear her complaints, now sent for her to his house. He received her in the kindest manner. What was her joy, when she foiled her husband there, not as a prisoner, but as a guest. Many prayers had she offered up, during her long illness, and they were now answered. The promise she had trusted in was fulfilled. This wasthatpromise: "Call upon me in the day of trouble, and I WILL DELIVER THEE, and thou shalt glorify me."
But still brighter days were at hand. The King of Burmah had peace with the British, and had agreed to deliver the missionaries into their hands. Glad, indeed, were they to escape from the power of the cruel monarch. Little Maria and her parents, as well as Mary and Abby, were conveyed in a boat down the river to the place where the English armyhad encamped. The English general received them with fatherly kindness, and gave them a tent to dwell in near his own. What a fortnight they spent in that tent. It was a morning of joy, after a night of weeping. Little Maria was now, for the first time, dwelling withbothher parents.
Soon afterwards she was taken to a new home in a town in Burmah, built by the English. It was called Amherst[12]. Here the missionary might teach the Burmese to know their Saviour, without being under the power of the cruel Burmese king.
It seemed as if the little family, so long afflicted, were now to dwell in safety, and to labor in comfort. But there is a rest for the people of God, and to this rest one of this family was soon removed.
The missionary determined to go to Ava, to plead with the king for permission to teach his subjects. He parted from his beloved wife, little thinking he should never see her again.
During her husband's absence, she watched with deep anxiety over her little Maria. The child was pale, and puny, yet very affectionate and intelligent. Whenever her mamma said, "Where is dear papa gone?" the little creature started up, and pointed tothe sea. She could not speak plainly, for she was only twenty months old.
Not long did she enjoy her mother's tender care. The poor mother, worn with her past watching, and weeping, was attacked by fever. As she lay upon the bed, she was heard to say, "The teacher is long in coming, I must die alone, and leave my little one; but as it is the will of God, I am content."
She grew so ill, that she took no notice of anything that passed around her; but even then she called for her child, and charged the nurse to be kind to it, and to indulge it in everything till its father returned. This charge she gave, because she knew the babe wan sick, and needed the tenderest care. At last the mother lay without moving, her eyes closed, and her head resting on her arm. Thus she continued for two days, and then she uttered one cry, and ceased to breathe. Her illness had lasted eighteen days. Then she rested from her labors, and slept in Jesus.
What now became of little Maria? The wife of an English officer receded her in her house for a few weeks, and then a missionary and his wife came to Maria's home, and took charge of the child. Maria was pleased to come back to her own home, and she fancied that kind Mrs. Wade was her own mother.
What a day it was when the poor father returnedhome! No wife to meet him, with love and joy; only a sickly babe, who had forgotten him, and turned from him with alarm. Where could he go, but to the grave to weep there? then he returned to the house to look at the very spot where he had knelt with his wife in prayer, and parted from her in hope of a happy return.
Little Maria was nursed with a mother's care, though not in a mother's arms; but her delicate frame had been shaken by her infant troubles, and care and comforts came TOO LATE. After drooping day by day, she died at the age of two years and three months, exactly six months after her mother. Her father was near to close her faded eyes, and fold her little hands on her cold breast, and then to lay her in a little grave, close beside her mother's, under the Hope Tree.
The words of the poet would suit well the case of this much tried infant:—