Part 15

My rapid improvement did not furnish an encouraging prospect, and they left. The fact that they had occupied the tree before I came to occupy the camp, did not make their presence much less suggestive.

By the middle of May the "Southwest monsoon" sets in. Then for five months it is rain, rain, rain. But though enough rain falls to inundate a country less amply provided with natural drainage, the awful heat continues. Clouds shut out the sun much of the time, but the steamy heat is exceedingly enervating. Clothing and bedding are clammy from the excessive dampness. Shoes taken off at night are mouldy in the morning. The unavoidable ruin of shelves of fresh new books from the home-land is enough to break one's heart, unless he has grace to take joyfully the spoiling of his goods. But as a merciful provision against allowing the mind to dwell on such misfortunes, the "prickly heat" (_lichen tropicus_) with which one's body is covered, will demand frequent attention. The rainfall varies in different parts of the country.

In Maulmain and Sandoway the annual rainfall is about two hundred and fifty inches. In Rangoon the precipitation is about two thirds of that amount. Mandalay is in the dry belt where the rainfall is very light, and irrigation is resorted to for cultivation. But still farther north, at Bhamo, the rainfall is heavy.

The every-day display of wild beasts, reptiles, and insect life is rather disappointing to the newcomer.

In the year 1902 only seventy-three people were reported as killed by wild beasts, and 1,123 by snakes and poisonous insects. But we find that 4,194 cattle were killed by tigers; 1,386 were killed by leopards; six by bears, twenty-eight by wolves, and 4,986 by snakes. More cattle were killed by snakes in Burma than in all the rest of India. Doubtless many such deaths in remote places, are not reported at all.

Under a certain Christian chapel when the ground was covered by a flood, an average of six centipedes were counted on each post.

Other localities are equally favoured, but they are scattered about, in piles of lumber, under old boxes, and wherever they can secrete themselves, now and then one appearing in a corner closet or crawling on the floor. On one occasion when about to take my family out for a walk two scorpions must first be dispatched.

They were found on the inside of our little boy's jacket, taken from a nail on the wall. Cobras and vipers sometimes find their way into houses,--but this happens more frequently in India than in Burma. These reptiles, though not often seen, are known to be about, so that some degree of caution is in order at all times. The general practice of elevating the house-floor several feet from the ground greatly lessens the number of these unwelcome visitors.

Not even the newcomer complains of a scarcity of the far-famed white ants. Should he fail to appreciate their numbers and powers, an experience similar to that recorded in "The Bishop's Conversion" will make him wish he had heeded the warnings of older residents.

Each queen is said to deposit about three million eggs a year. As they do their housekeeping and rear their antlets underground, a tropical sun making the hive a first-class incubator, the success of each colony is well assured. During the day myriads of other kinds of ants may be seen, but not a white ant shows his head.

Leave an old box on the ground over night, and in the morning thousands of these destructive insects will be found underneath, eating the bottom out of it. Some of the houses built by the early missionaries, who had not learned the likes and dislikes of the white ant, were destroyed in a few years. But a house made wholly of ant-proof timber does not insure one against their ravages. Under cover of the darkness they send out their spies. The house is searched from foundation to garret. They make careful note of the location of deal-boxes, book-shelves and other tempting articles, smack their lips, and return to give their report. The floor of nearly all residences is ten feet or more above the ground, the lower part being left unoccupied. The ants, directed by their engineers, select a post, and rapidly build a covered way, about the size of half a split lead-pencil, up its side. Sand, made sticky by glue from their mouths, is the material used. Reaching the floor the path is continued along a crack in the floor, finally coming out under or behind the article selected for destruction. Unless something wanted leads to their discovery, their work will go on until chest and contents are utterly ruined. Returning from a three weeks' absence, I found several of my choicest books riddled by these pests. In place of valuable marginal notes that could not be restored was a paste of sand. Such an experience is not, at first flush, conducive to spirituality. Rather it makes one sigh for a more expressive vocabulary, adapted to his profession. While superintending the work of demolishing an old mission house five heavy timbers fell all at once, on as many sides of me. These timbers appeared to be securely fastened, but white ants had eaten away the wood so that nails and bolts had no hold. The building had been condemned as unsafe over and over, but for want of other shelter had been occupied by a missionary family until the day before. It was little less than a miracle that the heavy roof had not crushed down over their heads.

The most dreaded diseases are cholera and fever.

In the first Burmese war seventy-two per cent. of the British troops died, only five per cent. being killed in action. After the annexation, railroad and steamship companies revolutionized transportation, substantial barracks and bungalows have taken the place of bamboo-and-thatch shanties, for the accommodations of Europeans. Improved sanitary arrangements in the towns have greatly decreased the mortality among natives. Compulsory vaccination is stamping out smallpox. Each large town has its hospital and civil surgeon. In six or eight different places medical missionaries are stationed.

Many improvements have been made since the time of Judson,--but the climate has not changed. As organized mission-work develops, the strain on the missionary increases. To the "care of all the churches" the mission schools have been added. Work enough for four falls upon one. Breakdowns are inevitable. Careful inquiry has established the fact that the average term of missionary service is considerably longer than that of Europeans in civil, military or mercantile pursuits, though the missionary lives by far the more strenuous life. If it is desirable that the missionary should render a long life of service, this extension of each term beyond the limit of his strength is very poor economy in the society which he represents. But in the majority of cases the mistake is made by the missionary himself. Body and soul he is wedded to his work. There never comes a time when he is not making some special effort, that he shrinks from entrusting to another,--for the advancement of the kingdom. If another is not available to take up the work he will almost die at his post rather than leave his people "as sheep having no shepherd." The remedy is in the hands of God's people in the home-land. Had he not learned to possess his soul in patience the missionary might feel disturbed by unfriendly criticisms directed against missionaries and their methods by that worldly-wise individual known as the "globe-trotter." Entertained at the missionary's home, and in much better style than the missionary can afford or indulges except on such occasions, he sits in the best room, and by the light of the only table lamp in the house dashes off an article on "Missionary Luxury." He travels three thousand miles, and visits fifty stations in three weeks, then goes home to pose as an authority on missionary methods, life in the tropics, etc. It is simply incredible what a variety of misconceptions one can pick up in three weeks in a strange land. Representatives from churches and societies in the home-land are gladly welcomed, if they purpose to remain long enough to form correct views of the situation. It takes the missionaries themselves at least two years to form such views.

Not long ago a noted Christian worker visited Burma. He was very earnest in his desire to see much in a little time, and yet get at the real heart of things. To further his desires two missionaries arranged a jungle trip, that the visitor might see the people in their native haunts. The last stage of the journey must be made by ox-cart. As they were loading up for the start he turned and said, "Now brethren, you know,--I want _impressions_." Then again, more emphatically as he stepped in front of the wheel to put a bundle on the cart--"You understand now,--I _want impressions_." The off-ox seemed to sympathize with him, for he gave him an impression then and there,--on the right knee-cap. Then another on the left knee-cap. In great pain the young enthusiast staggered to a log and sat down. Helped into the cart, he rode the rest of the journey. The lameness lasted him several days. Doubtless the memory of these first impressions will last much longer.

The visitor will learn more in three days of Burma fever than in an entire cool season. True, he will have sincere sympathy, and the best attention possible. But everybody knows that if true conceptions are to be gained, to be disseminated in the home-land, it is a good investment.

Visitors, like new missionaries, will not be guided by the advice of the more experienced. That disasters are not more frequent is largely due to the fact that Burma is visited when the climate is at its best.

An exception to the rule was the visit of a lady who had for many years been actively interested in foreign missions. Warnings as to the deadly effects of a tropical sun, and the danger of contracting fever from undue exposure had no influence. Repeated cautions that the head must be protected with the customary "sola tope" in place of the black straw hat were disregarded. Quinine, the universal and only effective remedy in first symptoms of malaria, was rejected. She was "not subject" to these things. In short, the missionaries were unnecessarily cautious in matters of health. Malaria changed to settled fever, and went beyond the power of the best medical skill and nursing to control.

This noble worker, who had served long and well here below, and might perhaps have served yet longer, went to a happier service above.

Notwithstanding the many disasters, experience still remains the only teacher whose voice commands attention.

To meet every obstacle and trying experience the consecrated worker girds up his loins, strong in the consciousness of the fact that he is an "Ambassador for Christ" the highest office in the gift of the King of Kings. His very obstacles may become stepping-stones to higher attainments.

XIII

WHAT HATH GOD WROUGHT

Adequately to answer the question, at any given time, What hath God wrought?--is beyond the power of short-sighted human comprehension.

As one studies the history of Christian missions in this land, comparing the present with the past, the question becomes an exclamation; yea, what hath God wrought! In 1819, after six years of seemingly fruitless labour, Judson baptized the first Burman convert from Buddhism.

In 1828 Boardman baptized the first Karen convert from spirit-worship. Now about forty-five thousand baptized Christians, in Baptist missions alone, chiefly Karen, but with the Burman and several other races strongly represented assemble in Christian chapels, without fear, or hindrance. Including adherents, this number may be multiplied threefold. Including the mission work of the Roman Catholics, Church of England, and other societies and their adherents; European officials, traders, and troops; Eurasions, and immigrants,--the census of 1901 gives a total of 147,526 returned as Christians. Calculated on the same basis as the Roman Catholics and Church of England three-fourths of this grand total should be assigned to the Baptists. And as a result of actual mission work among indigenous races, a much larger proportion must be credited to these American Baptist missions. In casting up results as represented by present numbers, we should not lose sight of the thousands who have died in the faith during the ninety years of Christian missions in Burma. And I fain would believe that a good number who never "witnessed the good confession" have died believing "unto the saving of the soul." I will give one such instance among the many, as related to me by one of my preachers, himself a Buddhist, at the time. "They told me that an old man in the village where I was staying, was dying. I went to see him. Sure enough, he was near the end. His people were giving him very little attention, being angry because he declared that he would die as a Christian, not as a Buddhist. A Christian preacher had been through the village a long time before, and left a tract with this old man. He read it, pondered on it, and believed it. As I sat beside the mat on which he was lying he said to me: 'I am not a Buddhist,--I have cast that all away. I believe in the Eternal God this tract tells me about. I am going to Him. When I am dead, don't let them bury me according to the Buddhist custom. Just roll me in my mat, and cover me in the ground.' Then he looked upward, his face brightened, he raised his feeble hands and exclaimed, 'I can see Celestial beings up there,--they are calling me.' He did not say angels,--he never had heard anything about angels. And I did not know what he was talking about. I was not a Christian then. His relations said his mind had gone bad, but he paid no attention to what they said,--only kept on talking about his vision of celestial beings beckoning him from the sky. In that way he died. They buried him according to the Buddhist custom, but I think he was a true disciple."

The wife of one of our jungle Christians rejected all attempts to win her to Christ. It seemed to be a case of ignorance and indifference rather than the bitter prejudice shown by the majority of Burmese women.

During the last two years of her life she was an invalid. When the end came her husband was the only Christian in the village. Suddenly turning her eyes towards the mountains, as if hearing something--she said to her husband, "There is a great company of disciples there on the mountainside. Sayah Gyi and Mama (the missionaries) are with them,--and they are calling me." With a smile on her face she passed away.

In life she had not "confessed," but in death, as her spirit hung between two worlds her vision was not of the spirits of her lifelong superstitions,--but of the missionaries and disciples saved by the blood of Christ. You have the story,--interpret it as you like.

In all the old mission stations the native evangelists report a good number who secretly declare their conviction that Christianity is right, the ancestral religion wholly wrong. Some go so far as to assert that they no longer worship idols, but do, secretly, worship Christ.

But no amount of urging or encouraging will induce them to break utterly with Buddhism, and openly confess Christ. They will not even risk the consequences of attending services in the mission chapel.

That some are in a measure, sincere, there is no doubt. Imagine, if you can, what would be the social standing of a hitherto orthodox Christian in America, should he renounce Christianity and go over to gross idolatry. From ostracism he would suffer no more, from persecution far less than the poor native who renounces Buddhism, for Christianity. Whether any of them are numbered among the saved, is not for me to say.

There is another thought which throws a bright ray of light on the great dark wall of paganism. It is not one of the results of Christian missions, but it is a result of the work of the Christ of missions. I refer to thousands and millions of infants and little children who die in pagan lands. If little children in Christian lands are immortal, why are not little children in pagan lands also immortal?

If little children are included in the saving work of Christ, are they not so included the world over? It is hardly conceivable that Christ would have said,--with children of non-Christians around Him: "Suffer the little children to come unto Me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of heaven," had He not considered them choicest material for His kingdom. Otherwise the words "Except a man become as a little child"--would have been incongruous.

Now when we consider that probably one-third of the children born in heathen lands die before they come to the period of moral responsibility, a new factor enters into our conception of heaven. Now for a case in point. A little child died in my mission. The father was a Christian, the mother a heathen. One insisted that the child should be buried according to Christian custom, the other insisted that the burial should be according to Buddhist custom. The father, backed by the Burman pastor, prevailed. On the way to the cemetery I had to stop the procession to drive a snake out of the road. Just as the service at the grave began, another snake passed between the native preacher and myself as we stood side by side. It seemed as if Satan himself was siding with the heathen mother and would snatch away the soul of this innocent child. While the little grave was being filled, I tried to cheer the father, by telling him that Jesus had, in love, taken the child to Himself. He knew that the mother would do her worst to bring up her child in heathenism, so He had graciously transplanted it to His paradise above. Accepting this view of the case, the father was comforted.

There are many such encouraging factors which form no part of mission reports.

Before proceeding to the more palpable triumphs of Christian missions, I would point out that much has recently been said and written of a "Revival of Buddhism." I do not share in the impression that Buddhism is becoming stronger than in former years. The presence of a European clad in yellow robes, parading through the chief towns of Burma, making great pretensions, and reviling the Christian missionaries, created a sensation for a time. But his claim to be the head of Buddhism was not quite to the taste of the many native priests who, locally, or for the province, aspired to that position. Hardly more to their taste was his departure, taking with him a generous sum of money collected during his tours. Every now and then one hears of new societies for propagating Buddhism. But much of this is mere pomp and show. A few of the more popular pagodas are periodically treated to a coat of gold-leaf. The bulk of this great expense is borne by men who have amassed fortunes under British rule, and is more to add to their renown than from real religious zeal. But where one pagoda is now regilded, scores were built and gilded, under Burman rule. Wealth and education have raised many Burmans to prominent positions. Each one of these gaily attired lords would like to have it said, "He loveth our nation, and has gilded our pagoda." In this they are encouraged by the friendly attitude of the provincial government towards the religion of the land. In June, 1903, the trustees of the Shwe Dagon pagoda issued to prominent Europeans and others the following invitation: "The trustees of the Shwe Dagon pagoda will have the pleasure of ----, on Sunday, the 7th June, 1903, on the platform of the pagoda, to witness the most sacred ceremony of unveiling the covering of the upper portion of the pagoda as the plating of the same with beaten gold sheets has now been completed.

"Sir H. Thirkell White, chief judge of the chief court of Lower Burma has kindly consented to perform the duty of unveiling.

"U Shwe Waing, "Managing Trustee. "Shwe Dagon Pagoda."

The Rangoon _Gazette_ thus described the event: "He arrived at nine o'clock, and was received by the trustees of the pagoda, who conducted him to a platform where a small pagoda about two feet high and studded with rubies, diamonds and sapphires, was resting on a massive silver Burmese carved stand. This pagoda was hollow and on being opened was disclosed another pure gold miniature pagoda resting on a beautifully cased gold vase. This miniature pagoda also came to pieces and contained a nugget of pure gold, part of the gold plates used in regilding Shwe Dagon. Two of the trustees, Maung Po Aung and Maung Po Tha, then each read an address and the signal was given to the man on the top of the pagoda, and Sir H. Thirkell White pulled a handle which was connected by wire with the cloth frame on the Hti, and the frame thus fell apart and disclosed to view the massive pinnacle of gold. The people broke out in cheers, and the band of the king's regiment played the national anthem, and this closed the proceedings. It has taken over 140 viss of gold-leaf for the regilding, the cost being between seven and eight lacs of rupees," over $250,000. This event, in which the most conspicuous figure was a prominent English official, though in unofficial capacity; and closing with the strains of "God Save the King," is heralded far and wide as another indication of a revival of Buddhism.

Were Buddhism wiped out of existence the pagoda would still be preserved, as at once the most ancient and most conspicuous object in the city,--the first seen as one approaches the shores of Burma.

Buddhism never has lost its strong-hold on the races of Burma that many centuries ago adopted it. These spasmodic outbreaks of seeming zeal, interpreted by many as indications of increasing life, I interpret as signs of increasing weakness. As in India, these people are becoming alarmed by the headway that Christianity is slowly, steadily gaining in their land. It is a struggle against the irresistible tide of Christian missions. Something more than flaming pagoda tops, and societies with high sounding titles will be required to stay the tide, and Buddhism has nothing else to offer. One hundred and fifty Protestant missionaries, with hundreds of native evangelists and teachers constitute a force, which under God, is undermining false systems and establishing the kingdom of Christ.

The unveiling of the gilded pagoda top was a great event, such as happens once in a decade. The place was crowded with Burmans, and many sightseers of other races. But on that Sunday, and every Sunday, nearly if not quite an equal number assembled in the many Christian churches in that city.

Judson, forbidden by the king to preach the "Jesus Christ religion," had faith that the future of missions in Burma was as bright as the promises of God. If in the year 1903 he is permitted to look down upon the land of his toil and suffering, he can see American missions firmly established in thirty different stations, and more than one hundred missionaries in actual service, all under the protection of the flag of a Christian nation. Buddhism is reviving, as the serpent revives to strike the rod from which it is receiving its death-blow.