Morning Star

THE JUNGLE BOY
BY MRS. EMILY C. JUDSON.

Many years ago, a lady sat in the verandah
of her Burmese house, endeavoring to deci-
pher the scarcely legible characters of a palm-
leaf book, which lay, in all its awkwardness,
upon the table before her. A beautiful beetle,
with just gold enough on his bright green
wings to distinguish him from the glossy leaves
of the Cape jasmine, which grew close by the
balustrade, was balancing himself upon one of
the rich white blossoms that filled the whole
air with their fragrance, while a gay.plumaged
bird, with a strange sort of a feathery coronal
upon his head, was making himself busy among
the rank grass beyond. Still farther on, a long-
necked chameleon clung to the trunk of a
guava tree, throwing back his snake-like head,
and darting his inquisitive little eyes about very
suspiciously; a green-coated robber of a parrot
nestled among the fruit and foliage above; and
below, and all around, a whole school of crows
flapped their black wings, and wheeled, and
fluttered, and cawed, with amazing industry
and volubility. It is in vain to try to enumer-
ate the lady's strange visitors, but they were
such as any of you might see of a bright morn-
ing in Burmah, and very attractive you would
find them-much more attractive, I have no
doubt, than the long palm-leaf books, all smear-
ed with oil to make their circular scratches
legible. From a little bamboo shelter-a cu-
rious thatched roof set upon poles, just beyond
the high, uncropped hedge, and dignified by
the name of schoolhouse came a sound of
mingled voices, very cheerful, very earnest,
and, to stranger ears, about as intelligible as
the cawing of the crows. But the lady under-
stood it all; and it told her that her native
schoolmaster was doing his duty, and his
tawny pupils making some proficiency in the
them-bong gyee, or 'a-b, ab' talk. Kah gyee ya,
kakah gyee ya kya, kahkah gyee ya long
gyee ten, ke-kah gyee ya long gyee ten san cat,
kee, came the confused sounds—a very circuit-
ous way of saying k-a, ka, k-e, ke,-don't you
think so?

As the lady bent over her book, a little more
wearily than in the freshness of the morn-
ing, and made a renewed effort to fix her
eyes on the dizzying circles, a strange-looking
figure bounded through the opening in the
hedge which served as a gateway, and, rushing
towards her, with great eagerness inquired,

"Does Jesus Christ live here?"

He was a boy perhaps twelve years of age;
his coarse black hair, unconfined by the usual
turban, matted with filth, and bristling in every
direction like the quills of a porcupine; and a
very dirty cloth of plaided cotton disposed in
the most slovenly manner about his person.

"Does Jesus Christ live here?" he inquired,
scarcely pausing for breath, though slackening
his pace a little as he made his way, uninvited.
up the steps of the verandah, and crouched at
the lady's feet.

"What do you want of Jesus Christ?" in-
quired the lady.

"I want to see him-I want to confess to
him."

"Why, what have you been doing that you
want to confess?"

"Does he live here?"—with great emphasis—
"I want to know that. Doing! Why, I tell
lies, I steal, I do every thing bad; I am
afraid of going to hell, and I want to see Jesus
Christ, for I heard one of the Loogyees say
that he can save us from hell. Does he live
here? Oh, tell me where I can find Jesus
Christ."

"But he does not save people from hell, if
they continue to do wickedly."

"I want to stop doing wickedly, but I can't
stop I don't know how to stop-the evil
thoughts are in me, and the bad deeds come of
evil thoughts. What can I do?"

"Nothing, but come to Christ, poor boy, like
all the rest of us," the lady softly murmured;
but she spoke this last in English, so the boy on-
ly raised his head with a vacant, "B' ha-lai?"

"You cannot see Jesus Christ now—"

She was interrupted by a sharp, quick cry of
despair.

"But I am his humble friend and follow-
er—"

The face of the listener brightened a lit-
tle.

"And he has commissioned me to teach all
those who wish to escape from hell how to do
so."

The joyful eagerness depicted in the poor
boy's countenance was beyond description.—
"Tell me—oh tell me! Only ask your Master,
the Lord Jesus Christ, to save me, and I will
be your servant, your slave, for life. Do not
be angry! Do not send me away! I want to
be saved—saved from hell!"

The lady, you will readily believe, was not
likely to be angry. Even the person who told
me the story many years after, was more than
once interrupted by his own choking tears.

The next day a new pupil was welcomed to
the little bamboo school-house, in the person
of the wild Karen boy; for no missionary hav-
ing yet been sent especially to that people,
they received all their religious instructions
through the medium of the Burmese language.
And oh, such a greedy seeker after truth and
holiness! Every day he came to the white
teachers to learn something more concerning
the Lord Jesus Christ and the way of salvation;
and every day his mind seemed to open, his
feelings to enlarge, and his face to lose some
portion of that undescribable look of stupidity
which characterizes the uncultivated native.

In due time, a sober band of worshippers
gathered around the pool in the little hollow
by the bridge, to witness a solemn baptism;
then a new face was seen among those who
came to commemorate the dying love of the
Lord Jesus; and a new name was written on
the church records.

Years passed away.
Death had laid his
hand upon the gentle lady, and she had gone
up to that sweet home where pain and sorrow
are unknown, and where "the weary are at
rest." On earth, another death scene was en-
suing. A strong, dark-browed man tossed wild-
ly on his fevered couch in an agony of physi-
cal suffering; but even then his unconscious
lips murmured continually those precious frag-
ments of Scripture which he had treasured up
in days of health. At last there came a fear-
ful struggle: then the convulsed features re-
laxed, the ghastliness of death settled upon
them, and the spirit seemed to have taken its
flight. Suddenly, however, the countenance
of the dying man was lighted with a heavenly
radiance, his lips parted with a smile, his eye
emitted a single joyful flash, before it turned
cold and motionless forever, and then the
wild boy of the jungle was welcomed by his
waiting angel-guide to the presence of that
Savior whom he had sought with such eager-
ness. Macedonian.