.... “From this land of darkness and intolerance I address a line to you, my dear, very dear friends, in blessed America, in bright, beautiful Boston and vicinity. It seems like an Elysian vision, that I have so lately seen your happy dwellings and elegant surroundings—a vision, however, dispelled instantly by a crushing nightmare feeling, on looking round upon the wretched habitations, the rude, filthy population, the towering pagodas, and the swarms of well-fed priests which everywhere here pain the eye and the heart. Buddhism has come out in full bloom. The few traces of Christianity discoverable in the early stages of the mission seem almost obliterated. The present king and his brother, the heir presumptive, are devoted Buddhists, especially the latter. He begs his elder brother to allow him to turn priest, that he may gratify his pious propensities; and on being refused, he does, poor man! all that he can. He descends from his prince-regal seat, pounds and winnows the rice with his own hands, washes and boils it in his own cook-house, and then, on bended knees, presents it to the priests. This strong pulsation at the heart has thrown fresh blood throughout the once shrivelled system of the national superstition; and now every one vies with his neighbor in building pagodas and making offerings to the priests. What can one poor missionary effect, accompanied by his yet speechless wife, and followed by three men and one woman from Maulmain, and summoning to his aid the aged pastor of Rangoon and eight or ten surviving members of the church? But as the Mussulman says, _God is great_. He sitteth on the heavens, he setteth His foot on the earth, and the inhabitants are as grasshoppers before Him. He dwelleth also in the humble and contrite soul; and the rays of indwelling glory appear more resplendent, gleaming through the chinks of the humble tenement. O for that humility and contrition, O for that simplicity of faith, which will secure the indwelling glory! May such sinners as we are hope for such a blessing? O help us with your prayers, ye who sit under the droppings of the sanctuary, and are sometimes allowed to approach the presence; O Thou that hearest prayer, help Thou our unbelief!
“Last Sabbath was our stated communion season, occurring once in four months. No alcoholic liquor can be procured in this place, the importation of all such being strictly forbidden. Our wine was a decoction of raisins, the unadulterated juice of the grape. Ten Burmans, one Karen, and two Americans came around the lowly, glorious board. To-day I had about the same number of disciples, and several listeners, two of whom remained long after worship, and, with two others whom I have found since arriving here, make up the small number of _four hopeful inquirers_. But all our operations are conducted in secrecy. I have been introduced to the Government, not as a missionary—though the governor and the vice-governor both knew me well from old acquaintance—but as a minister of a foreign religion, ministering to foreigners in the place, and as a lexicographer, laboring to promote the literature of both nations! In one room, therefore, of the upper story of the brick house—for which upper story I am obliged to pay fifty rupees a month—will the Christian public bear me out in this extra expense?—I have paraded my lexicographical apparatus, and commenced hammering at the anvil of the dictionary, which has hardly resounded with my blows for two years past; two years, alas! lost, lost, in tossing on the sea, closing dear eyes, digging graves, rending heartstrings, and feeling about for new ones. Thanks be to God, I have a sweet little family around me once more—F. F., Harry, and Eddy. God is not only ‘great,’ but good. God is love. And He can change our hard, selfish hearts, and make them full of love. Do I not love you, dear friends? Shall I see you no more? Yes, in heaven, whither we are fast hastening.”
The condition of the missionaries in Rangoon was made still more distressing by sickness. The great brick house became a hospital. One member of the family after another was prostrated by disease. Their maladies were also aggravated by the want of nourishing food.
Mrs. Judson gives an interesting reminiscence of this doleful episode in Rangoon: