“_January 18._ Took a survey of the splendid pagodas and extensive ruins in the environs of this once famous city. Ascended as far as possible some of the highest edifices, and, at the height of one hundred feet, perhaps, beheld all the country round, covered with temples and monuments of every sort and size; some in utter ruin, some fast decaying, and some exhibiting marks of recent attention and repair. The remains of the ancient wall of the city stretched beneath us. The pillars of the gates, and many a grotesque, decapitated relic of antiquity checkered the motley scene. All conspired to suggest those elevated and mournful ideas which are attendant on a view of the decaying remains of ancient grandeur; and, though not comparable to such ruins as those of Palmyra and Balbec (as they are represented), still deeply interesting to the antiquary, and more deeply interesting to the Christian missionary. Here, about eight hundred years ago, the religion of Buddh was first publicly recognized and established as the religion of the empire. Here, then, Ah-rah-han, the first Buddhist apostle of Burmah, under the patronage of King Anan-ra-tha-men-zan, disseminated the doctrines of atheism, and taught his disciples to pant after annihilation, as the supreme good. Some of the ruins before our eyes were probably the remains of pagodas designed by himself. We looked back on the centuries of darkness that are past. We looked forward, and Christian hope would fain brighten the prospect. Perhaps we stand on the dividing line of the empires of darkness and light. O shade of Ah-rah-han, weep over thy falling fanes; retire from the scenes of thy past greatness. But thou smilest at my feeble voice. Linger, then, thy little remaining day. A voice mightier than mine, a still small voice, will ere long sweep away every vestige of thy dominion. The churches of Jesus will soon supplant these idolatrous monuments, and the chanting of the devotees of Buddh will die away before the Christian hymn of praise.
“_January 25._ Passed Old Ava, the seat of the dynasty immediately preceding the present, and Tsah-gaing, a place of some note, distinguished for its innumerable pagodas, and the residence of one or two late emperors, and about noon drew up to O-ding-man, the lower landing-place of New Ava, or Amarapoora, about three hundred and fifty miles from Rangoon. At our present distance of nearly four miles from the city (and we can not get nearer this season), it appears to the worst advantage. We can hardly distinguish the golden steeple of the palace amid the glittering pagodas, whose summits just suffice to mark the spot of our ultimate destination.
“_January 26._ We set out early in the morning, called on Mr. G., late collector of Rangoon, and on Mr. R., who was formerly collector, but is now out of favor. Thence we entered the city, passed the palace, and repaired to the house of Mya-day-men, former viceroy of Rangoon, now one of the public ministers of state (woon-gyee). We gave him a valuable present, and another of less value to his wife, the lady who formerly treated Mr. G. with so much politeness. They both received us very kindly, and appeared to interest themselves in our success. We, however, did not disclose our precise object, but only petitioned leave to behold the golden face. Upon this, his highness committed our business to Moung Yo, one of his favorite officers, and directed him to introduce us to Moung Zah, one of the private ministers of state (a-twen-woon), with the necessary orders. This particular favor of Mya-day-men prevents the necessity of our petitioning and feeing all the public ministers of state, and procuring formal permission from the high court of the empire.
“In the evening, Moung Yo, who lives near our boat, called on us to say that he would conduct us to-morrow. We lie down in sleepless anxiety. To-morrow’s dawn will usher in the most eventful day of our lives. To-morrow’s eve will close on the bloom or the blight of our fondest hopes. Yet it is consoling to commit this business into the hands of our heavenly Father—to feel that the work is His, not ours; that the heart of the monarch before whom we are to appear is under the control of Omnipotence; and that the event will be ordered in the manner most conducive to the divine glory and the greatest good. God may, for the wisest purposes, suffer our hopes to be disappointed; and if so, why should short-sighted mortal man repine? Thy will, O God, be ever done; for Thy will is inevitably the wisest and the best.