Paul Anthony, Christian : a tale of truth

Front matter

PAUL ANTHONY,

~ Christian —

" What is the truth— about you — about me?" Page 265.

Preface

THIS book is the outgrowth of a desire to express Truth and to bring before the public in a practical way, the folly indulged in by many otherwise fairminded men and women of discussing, criticizing and condemning persons and things of which, from a personal knowledge, they know absolutely nothing.

Realizing that the world to-day is given to fiction, and that a book of that character is frequently read when a more profound work would be neglected, I have made my story fictitious as to its characters, scenes and episodes ; but the most startling and significant events it chronicles, have all been paralleled in experiences which have come under my personal observation.

To all those who have been helpful to me, I desire herewith to express my sincere thanks. I also wish to acknowledge my special indebtedness to Shway Yoe and to V. C. S. O'Connor for descriptions of Burmese boat-racing, fishing and customs.

HIRAM W. HATES.

Contents

CHAPTEB PAGE

I. THE LAST ENEMY — A PROLOGUE . 1

n. THE HONORABLE HOUSE OF TOUNG-

Chapter I. The Last Enemy A Prologue

SPARKLING in the early morning sunshine which streamed through the green foliage of the stately beeches and maples that lined its hanks, the crystal waters of the Genesee flowed placidly onward toward the beautiful Ontario. Eobin and bluebird sang in harmony from the branches of the trees, while from the field beyond, the meadow lark whistled its wonderful note of sweetest melody as it rose to greet the rising orb of day. The scent of lilacs and roses filled the air, and everything, that reflects life, seemed to unite in one grand anthem of praise to the giver of all good.

It was a typical Sunday morning in the country, As the day advanced, there came over the tree tops, from the village across the river, the sound of church bells calling the countryside to worship. Their mellow notes were attune to the spirit of the day, and the whole world seemed beatified in an atmosphere of absolute rest and peace. Nowhere was heard a discordant sound to break the solemn quiet ; nor did it seem possible that there could be, anywhere, a discordant thought to disturb the same perfect harmony which prevailed on the morning f PAUL ANTHONY, CHRISTIAN

that God looked upon His completed handiwork, and *' saw that it was very good."

And yet, in this symphony of concord, the hand of death was even now striking a discordant note, — a note that should swell in volume, until it had, seemingly, destroyed every vestige of that harmony which now reigned absolute.

On the bank of the beautiful river, facing the sun as he climbed slowly over the hilltops, and partially hidden in a grove of elm and walnut, stood a large and pretentious farmhouse. Its sides of glistening whiteness reflected the early morning light, while the contrasting green shutters gave it a cool and inviting appearance. Above the porch, which extended clear across the front of the house, a couple of windows were open, and white muslin curtains fluttered gently in the morning breeze. The house and its surroundings indicated plenty and happiness ; and truly it may be said, that to within a few hours such indication had not been deceptive; but now, the same ruthless hand that was striking the discordant note, was also destroying this sense of plenty, by causing a dearth of those things which go to make up the full measure of human happiness.

While the white muslin curtains still fluttered in the breeze, the fair face of a girl appeared at the window. A handkerchief held to her eyes gave evidence of weeping. Presently she was joined by another, an older woman, who placed her arm about the girlish form. For a minute they stood motionless, and then the girl turned and buried her face upon the woman's breast. It was a picture of grief

THE LAST ENEMY — A PROLOGUE ff

and despair that contrasted sadly with the joy and harmony without.

Suddenly the Sabbath quiet was broken by the sound of rapid hoof-beats. In another moment a galloping horse, with a farmer's boy on his back, came in sight down the road which ran along the water's edge, and turned sharply into the farmyard.

" Am I in time ? " called the lad, as the horse dashed past a group of men gathered on the lawn.

" Yes ! " was the response shouted back.

In front of the house, the boy pulled up and flung himself from the horse. As he ran up the steps, the door opened and a man in a white apron took the package he handed in. The door closed and the boy turned and slowly descended the steps. Taking the horse by the bit, he led the animal away toward the barn, and once more the Sabbath quiet prevailed.

This beautiful country seat, a sample of hundreds that dot the rich valley of the Genesee, was the home of Deacon Ezra Andrews, a pillar of the church and one of the most exemplary and most highly respected citizens of the country. For more than fifty years he had dwelt in this fertile spot, and each year had added to his store of treasures upon earth, as well as, he earnestly hoped, some treasure " where neither moth and rust doth corrupt and where thieves do not break through nor steal." His wife had been a real helpmeet to him in his struggle for both, and her Christian character was equal to her wifely devotion.

But one child had blessed their union of forty years; a son George, who came to them after more than ten years of married life. From the day of his birth it had been the hope of his parents that when he arrived at man's estate he would enter the ministry. As a lad his inclination had been in perfect accord with this desire, and before he had finished his course in the village academy, he had becom« an active worker in the church. It was during his four years in college that he finally decided to become a preacher of the Word, and, upon his graduation, he therefore entered a theological seminary.

During a summer vacation at home, George had become engaged to one of the village girls. It was his desire to be married at the close of his seminary course, as he believed that every minister should have a wife. His talents, while at the seminary, attracted attention, and the winter before he was to graduate, the Board of Foreign Missions gave him a call to go to India. Without stopping to consider his own desires or those of his affianced, but after prayerful communion with God, he accepted the call. While his parents would have preferred that he locate in the home field, they interposed no objection to the foreign mission, believing that the finger of God pointed the way.

It had been arranged that George should not leave for India until the following September, and therefore he decided to pass the interim, between the close of his course and the date set for his departure, on the farm with his parents and in preparing for the wedding, which had already been announced for the early summer.

THE LAST ENEMY — A PROLOGUE 5

The girl who was to become George Andrew's wife was Elizabeth Raymond. To describe her so that one who had not seen and conversed with her could gain any adequate idea of her beauty » her charm of manner and the nobility of her pure Christian character, would be a well nigh impossible task. Elizabeth was one of those young women whom to know was to admire, — and not only to admire, but to admire with something above the conventional admiration felt for all beautiful and intellectual American girls. Queenly in face and form and of athletic build, she was without that masculinity of manner that too often seems inseparable from the athletic girl of to-day. The luxuriant brown hair, which framed her pure Grecian features, contrastedstrongly with her clear blue eyes, but seemed tomatch perfectly her fair complexion. She was easily the most popular girl in the village; and village gossip was all agog to know whether the matchwould not be broken off when it was learned that " George Andrews was going to be a missionary.""

Having passed the age when young women are absolutely amenable to their parents' commands, Elizabeth quickly set all gossip at rest by announcing that she was not only just as willing to become a missionary's wife as a minister's, but a little more so. In fact, she announced at a young peoples' meeting, that it had always been her desire to become a missionary, and that she considered it the will of Providence that the opportunity had offered itself without any action on her part.

The early summer was passing and the wedding day was approaching, when, one hot afternoon, George was seized with a most acute illness. Home remedies were applied and the village doctor summoned. He pronounced the case cholera morbus, and applied all known specifics at his command ; but the young man grew steadily worse until his suffering became so great that it was decided to send to the city, twenty miles away, for a specialist. At Ge rge's request, Elizabeth was also summoned to his bedside. The specialist arrived at midnight. He pronounced the trouble appendicitis and decided upon an operation at daybreak.

In the early morning several neighbors had come over to express their sympathy, as well as to gratify "heir curiosity, and that is how it happened, on this quiet Sabbath morning, that a group of men stood conversing in subdued tones on the closely cut lawn, while inside the house the contest was on between death and the skill of the surgeon. A couple of horses, hitched to either side of a freshly painted horse-block, with switching tails and stamping feet fought the flies that began to buzz about them. The farm dog, a big, tawny mastiff, came around the corner of the house and approached xhe group of men on the lawn ; but, receiving no attention at their hands, laid himsolf down in the sun with one eye open and one ear cocked to catch any unusual sound. Suddenly he sprang to his feet and ran toward the house, as the front door opened, and a man carrying a little black satchel came out. He was too familiar a figure not to be immediately recognized. It was the village doctor.

THE LAST ENEMY — A PROLOGUE 7

As he came down the steps, the group on the lawn broke up and filed toward the spot where the doctor was already unhitching his horse.

" How does he seem, Doc ? " asked the foremost of the procession.

" No change," was the doctor's reply as he stepped into his buggy and gathered up the reins.

" What does the city doctor say ? " inquired another, an older man: and his whole manner showed the most intense interest.

" I hate to tell you, Deacon, but he says there is no hope. The operation was performed too late, and it's only a matter of hours."

The old man bowed his head and drew his shirt sleeve across his eyes.

" It seems pretty hard, Doctor, pretty hard ; but God's will be done ! "

" Amen ! " exclaimed the others solemnly, as they filed back to the lawn and watched the doctor as he drove away.

Deacon Andrews entered the house and ascended the stairs. In the hall above he found his sweet-faced and anxious wife talking with the specialist. Her eyes were wet with tears, but on her face there was that look of calm resignation which has so long stood as the mark of Christian fortitude. In the adjoining room her only son was dying of an illness which she believed was sent by God ; and yet, in obedience to what she considered the divine will, she still blessed his holy name, and had faith to believe it was all for the best; that it was the Lord's way of taking her loved one to himself.

••Doctor Hughes tells me there is no hope," said the deacon as he joined them.

" None ! " replied the specialist. " If I had been summoned earlier we might have saved him; but blood-poisoning has already set in and it is now only a question of making him as easy as possible until the end comes."

Tears streamed down the old man's cheeks.

** And how long before that will be? " he asked in a trembling voice.

" It may be two hours, it may be six ; not longer."

'* It's pretty hard, Doctor, pretty hard ! " and again he wiped his eyes, while his wife murmured gently :

" The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord."

" Will you stay till — till — " and the old man's voice was lost in sobs.

" I would if I could be of any use," replied the doctor gently ; " but there is nothing I can do that has not been done. Doctor Hughes will be back in an hour and I have other patients who need me."

He extended his hand to say good-by.

" You'll send us your bill ? " said the deacon, taking his hand.

" There's no hurry about that."

" I wouldn't mind if it was five hundred dollars if it could only have saved the boy's life ! " exclaimed the aged father as the doctor passed down the stairs. Turning to his wife, he asked:

"Where's Bess?"

THE LAST ENEMY — A PROLOGUE 9

" With George," inclining her head toward the open door.

" How does she take it? " he asked with the utmost solicitude.

" Bravely, although her heart is breaking. Elizabeth is a true Christian and would never question her Heavenly Father's will. Do you want to see George? "

" Yes."

Softly the aged couple entered the sick-room and stood with tearful eyes before the bedside of their dying son.

Pale and silent he lay, with closed eyes and with his hand clasped in that of the beautiful girl who leaned tenderly over him. Presently he opened his eyes. As he recognized his parents a wan smile lighted his countenance.

" Do not cry for me," he said. " It is God's will and it is better so. I was going away among strangers, Mother, but now I am going home."

The mother leaned over and kissed his forehead, but tears choked her voice.

" Yes, George, home ! " said the girl. " Home to our Father, where there is no more sorrow or sickness, and where Jesus will wipe away all our tears."

He gave her hand a gentle pressure and the light of a great love shone from his eyes.

" We should have been so happy, you and I," he said, " and it seemed as though we should have done a great work out there in India, spreading the gospel of Christ. But God knows best," and again he closed his eyes.

" Yes, George," said his mother, " God best." Then to her husband:

" Come, Father, let us leave them alone. Call us, Elizabeth, if there is any change."

Slowly and with bowed heads the grief-stricken couple withdrew from the room, and for a time there was unbroken silence, save for the somewhat labored breathing of the sick man. Outside, the birds still sang harmoniously, and the leaves, stirred by the gentle breeze, cast flickering shadows across the curtains. Elizabeth arose from the bedside and drew the shade a trifle lower. Then for a moment, overcome by her grief, she stood with bowed head looking out across the river. When she turned, her lover was watching her with wide open eyes.

" You must not grieve for me, dear one," he said as she approached the bed and placed her hand upon his head. " Our lives have been consecrated to God, and if it is his will to take me home now, it is not for us to question."

" Oh, George," as she knelt beside him, " it is so hard to lose you, — to lose your great love and help ! I know that his ways are higher than our ways ; but it does seem as though you might be spared to spread his word."

" We must not question his wisdom," he said.

" I do not, oh, I do not; but we know when Jesus was on earth he raised the widow's son and restored the brother to those who loved him. Surely if it were right for Jesus to heal the sick and raise the dead then, he would do it now, if he were here. Why

THE LAST ENEMY— A PROLOGUE ji>,

cannot we, his professed followers, do the same? He bade us do it."

" Hush ! Elizabeth, hush ! Your grief is causing you to forget. The days of miracles are past, and it is now our duty to save the world from the great burden of sin with which it is weighted down. The flesh profiteth nothing. It is our duty to spread the gospel of truth and to point out the way of life eternal beyond the grave. I have made my peace with God. My Master calls me home ! I am ready ! "

Again he closed his eyes while Elizabeth prayed softly : " Not my will but thine be done."

After a few moments the dying man again opened his eyes.

" You will not forget the promise you made last night? " he asked feebly. " You will go? "

" Yes, George, if the Board will take me I will go. I will carry the message to India, alone, which we had hoped to carry together."

" It makes my — my going so much easier. I feel as though my years of work and study had not been in vain if I am leaving one behind to do the work I had planned. Will it be such a great hardship, dear one? "

" It will be all the pleasure left to me in life."

" I know it will, Elizabeth. Did not the Master say : ' Go ye into all the world and preach the gospel to every creature? ' What a blessing to take the message of love to a sinning world, and to prepare them to meet their God ! I wish I could stay ! "

His eyes took on a far-away look and over his face it PAUL ANTHONY, CHRISTIAN

played a faint smile, as though his wish might be realized.

" Why, oh, why can he not stay ? " thought the girl as she looked upon his pallid face. " Why are we not able to obey the rest of Jesus' great command and heal the sick? Why, oh, why is our faith so small? " and the great tears rolled down her cheeks.

Even as she looked a change came over the face before her, the smile faded away and the features became ashy and drawn. She stepped quickly to the door and called softly to the others. The dying man spoke in a whisper as she again leaned over him,

" It is slipping away," he said. " It is slipping away ! Hold me, dear one ; do not let me go I "

She bent lower to catch the last word.

** Do not — let — m2 — go ! " he gasped.

There was a quiver of the eyelids and George Andrews had passed on.

" It was a beautiful death," whispered a neighbor woman as the members of the family passed out and sympathetic friends took charge of the sick-room.

Elizabeth overheard, and her rebellious heart declared :

" No death is beautiful ! "

Chapter II The Honorable House Of Toung - Lay

FROM Rangoon to Manipur, and in all the provinces of India, no family is better known or held in higher esteem by the British government than the ancient and honorable house of Toung-lay. For more than a century, in fact ever since the British made their first attempt to do business in the land of pagodas, rubies and white elephants, this house has been one of Britain's strongest supporters. In the last great wars, the one with King Pagan-Min and again in that between the British Indian government and King Thebaw, the family suffered greatly, and one of its members was put to death for giving information to the British that Thebaw had ordered the Burmese to rise and drive the English heretics into the sea. When finally the British soldiers marched into Mandalay, they came just in time to save from death other members who had been subjected to all sorts of indignities and torture as part of Thebaw's cruel revenge.

After the British had finally defeated Thebaw and taken possession of Upper Burma, as a first recompense for this friendship, the ancient and honorable house of Toung-lay was given valuable grants in connection with the construction of the Burmese railroads, and large concessions in the oil fields near Yenangyaung. There was still further recompense later on in the history of the British occupation, but in order to understand how it came about it is necessary to revert to happenings in the very early history of the Toung-lay family, — events which form part of the history of Burma.

Some four hundred years ago, long before England ever dreamed of the conquest of India, the Toung-lay were the ruling house of the kingdom of Pegu. This was before the Chinese and Burmese had become distinct nations and while the Tartar dynasty was in control of the Celestial Kingdom. When the kingdom of Pegu was overthrown a century later, Fo-Sein, the ancient head of the house of Toung-lay, withdrew into the fastnesses of the Himalayas, and, through an understanding with the Chinese emperor, with whom the family was connected by ties of blood, formed the kingdom of Bahipur, or Bajipur as it is now commonly written. This kingdom, embracing a territory of two hundred square miles, and containing a population of something like two million subjects, — made up of Burmese, Hindus, Chinese and a few hill tribes, — adjoined the kingdom of Assam on the east and comprised practically all that territory between the head waters of the Brahmaputra and Irrawaddy Rivers. Its capital and chief city was, and still is, Annakan, a walled city of some fifty thousand inhabitants.

Fo-Sein ruled over Bajipur till his death; and his immediate family for some generations longer. During the early part of the eighteenth century the kingdom was considerably reduced in size by a war with King Ava, who was in turn overthrown by the Talaings. During the succeeding wars between King Alompra and Siam, and the invasion of Manipur and Assam, its nearest neighbors, the realm of Bajipur met with varying reverses and successes, and it was not until the house of Toung-lay cast its fortunes on the side of Great Britain that the principality definitely secured immunity from absorption by the kingdom of Burma. In 1824 — when the Burmese were driven out of Assam, Kachar and Manipur — Bajipur, reduced in size to about one hundred and fifty square miles, was guaranteed its independence and has since retained it; except as it acknowledges the suzerainty of Great Britain. In 1830 the eldest member of the Toung-lay family was called to the hrone under the title of Prince Nala, — prince being the customary title of the rulers of all the Indian principalities. He was succeeded at his death by Prince Baha Min, who ruled until the war with Thebaw broke out in 1885, when, with little opposition, that monarch captured Annakan and held it till he was in turn completely overthrown by the British.

During the years of the pacification and occupation of Upper Burma, the English took no steps toward restoring the government of the principality to the Toung-lay family; but after several years, — some time before the massacre of the English Resident at Manipur, — the native government of Bajipur was again established and Prince Sindhu was placed on the throne. This was the final act of recompense by Great Britain in recognition of the services rendered it by the ancient and honorable house of Toung-lay.

Since that time the principality has been well governed and has given the British little trouble. This is remarkable, considering the fact that it is inaccessible, except by a long river voyage and a journey of nearly a hundred miles by horse, elephant, and such other conveyances as are obtainable. During the rainy season it is virtually cut off from the rest of the world for several weeks. During these weeks Prince Sindhu and his sister — the only members of the family who have taken up their residence ! i Annakan, and both of whom to a large exten^, have adopted English manners — are wont to spend their time in Rangoon, leaving the government of the principality in the hands of the Prime Minister.

It is recorded that, away back in the seventeenth century, an ancestor of the Toung-lay took to wife a Dutch maiden, a daughter of one of those Hollanders who were the first Europeans to settle in the kingdom of Pegu. During all the years since that time and through all the reverses that have befallen the house, a large Van Dyke portrait of this Indy has been preserved and now graces the library of the family residence in Rangoon. It has been the invariable rule for generations, to honor this ancestor by giving the name of his Dutch wife to some female member of the family, and that is how it happens that the only daughter of the present house of Toung-lay is named Sofia.

In one respect, however, neither their Dutch an-

THE HOUSE OF TOUNG-LAY IT

cestry nor their English relations have caused any change in the thought or character of the family, — that is with respect to their religion. Ever since it began its history, all its members have been staunch and fervent believers in Buddha, and many are the pagodas built to Gaudama by the male members of the house. On every mound of each plantation belonging to its now vast estate, and in every mansion of each city in which the house has connections, there are shrines to Buddha, while graven images of Gaudama are as plentiful as the rubies in their extensive mines at Mogok.

The only member of the family of nine sons who ever strayed from the teachings of the great Pohn-gyee is Prince Sindhu. And, really, he cannot be said to have departed from the faith, for he but added to his Buddhist views a touch of materialism, gathered in his studies of the natural sciences, and from reading the works of such writers as Balfour and Huxley. It always appeared to him that their ideas were quite in line with the teachings of Gaudama regarding birth, decay and death ; and, as the idea of a supreme being has no place in the Burmese mind, he had always been quite as willing to accept the materialistic propaganda, that all things have their origin in force, as the more subtle views of the Burmese monks. During his days in the monastery he had studied the religion of the Brahmins, and he was quite certain that he could never accept the teachings of the great Hindoos, because he had a well defined conviction that in Nirvana there could be no caste, and, therefore, caste in this world was quite as impossible.

In this connection it may be well to understand that the disbelief in caste, as taught by the great Buddha, and the freedom of their women, are the two things that constitute the Burmese the most progressive of all the people that go to make up what is now recognized as British India. As Murray so concisely states it : " Should Burma be visited, after a tour in India, the traveller cannot fail to be struck with the great difference in the people and the scenery. The merry, indolent, brightly clothed Burmese have no counterpart in Hindustan. The life of the natives is free from the deadening effect of caste and seclusion of women. The women are well treated and attractive and take their full share in social and domestic affairs."

In the Lawkawaneedee, — the Burmese book of proverbs relating to life, — it is said that monks and hermits are beautiful when they are lean; fourfooted animals when they are fat; men when they are learned and women when they are married. This recommendation to be married is no more needed by Burmese maidens, however, than it is by their sisters in other parts of the world ; and they have a further inducement, in that they enjoy a much freer and happier position than in any other Eastern country. In fact, in some respects, they are much better off than the women of America. As yet the Burmese girl has not begun to demand an equal share of education with the boys, although here and there are a few who are deeply learned in Burmese literature, and have a wide knowledge of the sacred books.

In the family of Toung-lay the women have always taken unto themselves all the privileges and prerogatives allowed them by the laws and customs of the land ; and so, barring Sindhu's official position, there is no more important member of the present family than Sofia, who, by courtesy, is always called the princess. Her mother had died when she was quite young and she had been raised with her brother Sindhu, — some six years her senior, — by an old nurse. During the time her brother spent in the monastery — the time which corresponds to the college days of the European youth — Sofia had pined so greatly over his absence that her father had been at a loss what to do with her. At last an aged pohn-gyee, or monk, had suggested that she be given instructions at home, along the same line of studies as that taught her brother in the monastery. The result was that when Sindhu was called from the monastery to accept the throne of Bajipur, he found that his sister was quite as well informed in the sacred books and other literature as he, and had acquired a knowledge of English, both language and manners, even better than his own.