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tunity to study his own language. Such instances I believe to be common among the Karens, but I have taken no notes, and speak therefore of the one only that I recollect. It is ample reward for the labor of translation.

The books I have given away I count by thousands, while the conversions known to have been effected through them, I enumerate by units. But, Mr. Chairman, are not the units gained of more value than the thousands lost? If a Karen shoots fifty times into a drove of elephants, and at last kills one, he feels amply repaid for the loss of all his powder and shot. It is true great numbers of our books are torn up, but their work is always not done then. I have seen a fragment, a torn leaf by the pillow of a sick man, and his mind hovering around the promise he had found on it. I have seen a dirty scriptural tract by the side of a priest in a monastery, far from the cities and the missionaries, and with the truths of its contents the possessor was evidently struggling; and I once baptized a woman who dated her first convictions for sin from hearing a little girl in the next house, read or repeat a scriptural catechism that she was studying in one of the mission schools.

The preached word is undoubtedly the great means for the conversion of the world, but instances like the above prove that it is not the exclusive means. The written word is sometimes used by the Spirit without the living teacher. No sooner had God proclaimed the law to Moses, than he wrote it with his own finger on tables of stone. So wherever we go preaching to the heathen, we go with some portion of the Bible under our arms, and after proclaiming to them the truth, we put into their hands the written word. After conversing with a heathen whom I may never meet again, I feel that perhaps through the imperfection of my judgment, the truth may not have been exhibited to him in the right way; or something may have been said inadvertently that will hinder the working of the Divine Spirit in his mind; so whenever practicable, I direct him to read aloud some select gospel truths; and thus Christ is preached, as Moses was of old, by reading him in public.

The Karens can read only as they are taught by the missionaries or their agents, and hence I have ever been a much stronger advocate for schools among the Karens than among the Burmese, who have studied in their own monasteries, and can read the Bible when it is put into their hands. It was a rule with me, when the Karen youth, male or female, requested baptism, to put a book into their hands, to give them something like benefit of clergy. If they could read, I proceeded with further inquiries, but if they neglected to learn in the village school, I told them they lacked evidence of love to God. "If you love God," they were told, “you will love his word; and if you love his word, you will learn to read it."

That the Bible was considered in the Apostolic age of the church an important instrument in the propagation of Christianity we have strong proof in the tradition that the Apostle Thaddeus sent translators to Palestine from Edessa, to translate the Bible into Syriac; and in the historical fact that in the fourth century, that Syriac was an old-established version, like King James' English, and Luther's German now; with the reputation of having been made in the first century.

The leaders of the modern missionary enterprise commenced their labors with like views, and Thomas said he would willingly give a million of rupees, if he had them, to see a Testament in the Bengalee tongue. After it was translated, it was remarkably blessed. I recollect the Seraunpore missionaries wrote, many years before I went out to India, that of their converts eighteen attributed their conversion to the reading of the Bible. Similiar testimonies lie scattered among the journals of missionaries of all denominations in India for the last forty years.

Missions without the Bible would be like men without memory. They might make a present impression, but they would pass away with the present, and the impression would need to be renewed.

The Romanist missions are an illustration of preaching without the Bible. They are no farther advanced in the East now, than they were two centuries ago. They exist only by a constant succession of priests being sent from Europe, generation after generation.

Buddhist missions are an illustration of preaching followed by books. Gandama did not put a single sentence into writing, but his followers penned all his discourses and doctrines that tradition had preserved, and it is to these books we are to ascribe the permanent hold their system has in Buddhist countries. The original propagators of Buddhism soon passed away, but their sacred books remained, and these, multiplied on palm leaves and taught in schools, have made nations Buddhists. In this way the Buddhist missions have succeeded, since the Christian era, in spreading their faith and making it self-supporting among one-third of the human race.

The longer I live, Mr. Chairman, the less I believe in men-the more in God. The less in the words of men, their theories and systems-the more in the Bible. In attempting to produce a daguerreotype for the Karens, I have often to refer to piles of scholia, and notes, and annotations and commentaries, and what the Germans call "Hand-books," which need a hand-wheelbarrow to carry; but I often turn from them with intolerable weariness, to rest and refresh my spirits on the original itself. That

always seems to me like the precious ore in its native state, the gem before it has gone to the lapidary Like the gem sands of our Indian rivers-here a tiny ruby, there a bit of sapphire or rock crystal, or schorl, or corundum, or tommaline; or a garnet, a cornelian, an onyx, an amethyst or a beryl. Irregular they may be, often difficult to distinguish; but still there is the strong conviction that they are gems, though the eye may be at fault in referring them to the proper place in the system of mineralogy.

The Word of God, in imperfect versions, seems to create similar feelings in the hearts of the heathen. It is not the preaching of men that enamours them, but the written Word of God. How often have I been arrested in the midst of the crowded street by a man calling from his hut: "Teacher, you gave me a Jesus Christ book, and I like it so well I want another." But rarely have I had such compliments to my preaching. Frequently I have been told: "I do not like these scribets written by your teachers; give me a kuyasa, a God-book. I want to know what your God says." And repeatedly priests and others have called on me at my house, requesting full copies of our Holy books, that, as they stated, they might judge for themselves on what our preaching and tracts were grounded. Sometimes while talking with a crowd of Burmans, I found myself in a perfect hornet's nest; half a dozen surrounding and opposing at the same time. On such occasions, I just put into their hands a portion of Scripture, requesting them to read about the law of the eternal God, at the place I point out. Immediately silence is on every lip, and the civil remark at the close is always tay-koung-the, 66 very good."

We must go forward and preach, but we must go forward "bearing the precious seed." We preach to the heathen, make an impression-the hearer goes away, and in a few days or weeks the most he has heard is a mist in his mind, a sort of mystic dream. If he has a single clear idea left, it is very likely an erroneous one. They are words written on the sand. But give a portion of the Bible, and the perusal stereotypes what he has heard. The sand is turned to rock with the footprints of truth indelibly engraven, as we see fossils. Or, take another figure-preaching drives the nail, the Bible clinches it.

The way the Bible puts forth its ramifications and roots itself in the human mind, is most interestingly exemplified in the evangelization of the Karens. Their reverence for the Bible seems almost intuitive. It is impossible to do anything with them without a "Thus saith the Lord;" but with that they are as teachable as children.

Several years ago there was a Pwo church that had, during the few years of its existence, its preacher supported by the mission; and its members not having been instructed in the matter, had come to adopt the idea that it was always to be so. "Teacheress," said the first convert of this church on one occasion, "Teacheress! I have heard sad news to-day."

"Have you, elder brother? I am very sorry."

"Yes, sister teacheress, and I am very much grieved."

"What is it, Ko Chung?"

"Alas! five years ago I fled from the Burman religion, and took refuge in the religion of the white foreigner, but it is reported that we are still to follow Gandama's customs."

"How so, brother?"

"Why, the women are saying that the teacheress tells them that it is a Christian custom for each church to support its own pastor and schoolmaster. To feed them, lodge them, and even clothe them. Now, teacheress, did you say so?"

"Well, Ko Chung, I believe I did, but I hope you do not think that a bad custom." "Teacheress," exclaimed the old man, in great agitation, "this is a heathen custom. It is just what the Burmese priests require; and if we do like them, we shall be a stink to our neighbors."

The missionary's wife, knowing their strong trust in the Bible, immediately drew forth the Burman quarto, and turning to the ninth chapter of the First of Corinthians, desired him to look at that. The old man read it through aloud, and then began once more and read it all through again. Then he paused, reviewed one verse and another here and there, closed the book, arose and departed, with the single remark: "I see, teacheress, you are right." He went immediately to the Christian chief of the village, and told him their duty; he went next to the deacons of the church and told them their duty, and to all he became immediately a preacher of self-supporting churches. And what were the practical results? That church is now distinguished above all others in the province of Maulmain for supporting their own pastor, building their own meeting-house ani parsonage, having a church fund for their poor, and conducting all their own church affairs without extraneous aid.

But the Bible not only commands obedience in the Karen mind, it also disciplines and invigorates it, and brings words to their mouths which their adversaries cannot gainsay. It was one Sunday afternoon that two Romish Italian missionaries arrived in the Christian village of Mata. Ko Sapan, the native pastor of the church, was holding divine service with his flock, so they would not enter till he

closed; but when the assembly was dismissed, they walked up to the sacred desk, and invited the people to wait and hear them. Then turning to the pastor, they challenged him to a discussion. "Your teachers tell you," one remarked, "that to worship the mother of God is idolatry. But has she not equal power with the Son, and even more? See, there stands a jar of water; now, which has the greatest power, the water or the jar? The jar, of course, for it contains the water, and prevents it from flowing out." "Nay," replied the Karen preacher, without premeditation, “the water is far more powerful than the jar, for it washes the jar clean." The answer was suggested to him from the passage: "The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin."

own.

I have often been much interested to observe how a Karen will make the reasoning of Paul his An instance occurs to me in a conversation that I overheard many years ago between our assistant and an unbeliever. The caviler remarked: "Why has God made men so that some come forth from the womb blind, some hump-backed, some with dead limbs, some with twisted limbs, some with crooked limbs, some white, some black? And why are some born dead, why do some die in infancy, some in childhood, some in youth, some in manhood, some in old age? Why are some insane, some idiots, some fools, some wise? Why are some masters, and others slaves? Some rich, and others poor? Could not God make them all alike? Or is it because he loved some, and did not love others?"

The assistant replied: "You ought not to reply against God. God is above humanity, above kings, above all. He acts according to his own will. The house-owner builds a house, and decides in relation to all its parts. He disposes of the timbers or bamboos according to their proper positions. That which is too short he lengthens, that which is too long he shortens, that which will not answer his purpose he throws away. That which is shortened does not say to the builder, Why hast thou shortened me?" Nor that which is lengthened, 'Why hast thou lengthened me? The timbers or bamboos do not say: 'Make us this way or that way-make us not that way or this way.' The materials know nothing, but the owner of the house knows, and directs everything according to his own judgment. He does not throw away the materials of the house without cause, but adjusts things properly. So God performs all things according to his own will. He is the owner of the house, and we ought to submit to his dispensations in silence. Then he will use us as parts of his building. That is, we shall become his children and servants. But if we murmur and complain, and abuse God, we become like the bamboos and timbers, which, being unsuitable for the building, were rejected by the builder, and thrown away. Some of God's judicial arrangements are in order that we may praise him, some that we may repent of our sins, some that we may discern between good and evil, some that we may not hope in transitory things on earth, some that we may avoid hell, and go to heaven. None are made for the disadvantage, but all for the advantage of man. To those who murmur, the Holy Book says: "Who art thou, O man! that repliest against God? Shall the thing formed say to him that formed it, Why hast thou made me thus ? Hath not the potter power over the clay, of the same lump to make one vessel unto honor, and another unto dishonor ?'"

For nearly a quarter of a century, Mr. Chairman, I have gone preaching in "the land of the shadow of death," literally walking annually, when in health, hundreds of miles; but I have ever felt that my preaching was naught, that I was only a torch-bearer. I held out the Bible in the thick darkness to give light, "And there was light." Perhaps I do not exalt oral preaching enough. But in my case there is an excuse. I was converted by the Bible. Times out of number for the last twenty years, have I risen at midnight, and labored for hours in the silent watches to translate its divine pages into a foreign tongue, and I have been permitted by a kind providence to lay it, such as it is, complete upon the altar, a thank-offering for the blessings it has conferred on my own soul. I cannot then but add, after the apostolic method, to every paragraph of my preaching to the heathen, “As it is written in the law of the Lord," and then reach them that law to read for themselves; I cannot but say with Chrysostom: "Provide yourselves with books (Biblia,) the Bible, the medicine of the soul.”

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ADDRESS

BY REV. L. SMITH.

To

I HAVE been requested to give a bird's-eye view of New Mexico in a thirty-minutes' speech. do this effectually would require, on my part, some such enchantment as the Tempter used when he showed to our Saviour all the kingdoms of the world in a moment of time. Having no such magical power, I shall abbreviate the subject by confining my remarks to a single point, and endeavor to show the peculiar adaptedness of the colporteur system to the condition of the New Mexicans.

And in speaking on this subject, I do not pretend to say that this system possesses in New Mexico advantages and facilities superior to those of any other portion of the Mission field, or that it promises greater results there than elsewhere. I mean to say, that a system of itinerant labor, such as is generally pursued by colporteurs-embracing not only the distribution of books, but also oral presentations of truth-that such a system in New Mexico is unsurpassed in efficiency and economy by any other mode of Christian effort.

Leaving out whatever settlements may have been annexed to New Mexico by a recent Act of Congress, and not counting the ten or fifteen thousand wild Indians who roam over that Territory, we have, in round numbers, a population of 61,000 souls, all of whom are professedly Roman Catholics. Of this number about 51,000 are the descendants of the Spanish conquerors, and the remaining 10,000 are the descendants of the half-civilized Indians who inhabited that country for ages anterior to the Spanish invasion. In consequence of the mountainous nature of some parts of the Territory, and the barrenness of other parts, and the scarcity of rains, the fewness and smallness of the streams, and the impossibility of cultivating any land which cannot be irrigated by artificial means, the population has been broken into small communities, and scattered over a vast region of country. The people are obliged to settle in certain districts where the soil is fertile and irrigation possible. This circumstance and the universal dread of the wild Indians, have driven almost the entire population of New Mexico into towns. These towns are isolated, and separated from each other frequently by many miles of barren and uninhabited country. The largest town is Sante Fé, with a population of 6,000. The next in size is Zuni, an Indian peublo of 1,500 souls. From this point the size of the settlements diminish till we come to many who number from 50 to 100 inhabitants. To send the gospel as speedily as possible to these scattered towns is the obvious dictate of Christianity. It is impossible and uncalled for to locate a missionary in each of these places. And yet the Word of God should be proclaimed there. The people throughout the Territory should be visited by the herald of salvation; and this can be done by no better system than that of colportorage. The colporteur should be unencumbered with domestic cares, his home should be his saddle, his place of rendezvous some Missionary family, his life should ever be in his hand; and thus disentangled from earthly cares and fears, with a brave heart and firm trust in God, let him go from town to town and from house to house, going or staying here or there, as God may open or shut the door. And here I would say that, if possible, the colporteurs in New Mexico should, by all means, be sent forth as Christ sent his seventy disciples, viz., two and two.

Again, the very ignorance of the people of that Territory is an argument in favor of this system According to the last census and the generally-received opinion, only one person in an hundred can read. The estimate is sometimes put down as low as one in two hundred. This would give three hundred persons capable of reading among the entire population of that country. This, however, is too low. We are willing to say that one in fifty can read, or about 1,200 for the whole Territory. Ignorance like this among American citizens is deplorable enough; and yet it is the ignorance which nurses the devotion of the Romanist, and would convert this entire Union into a withered, blasted desert. It will be seen from the above estimate that a vast number of Bibles and other religious books are not required at present in that country. And it will also appear that a chief part of the colporteur's work will be oral teaching rather than mere book distribution. If the people cannot read the Word of God, send them a man who can read it to them. If the benighted followers of Rome cannot spell out the meaning of Divine revelation, let the colporteur explain it to their comprehensionlet him repeat not only what the Spirit says unto the Churches, but what it says also to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death.

The New Mexicans are exceedingly affable, and universally disposed to converse on the subject of religion. Their godliness is peculiar to themselves, and not so far removed from the ordinary affairs of life, that they experience any difficulty in passing from a worldly to a religious subject. The claims of time and those of eternity-the sentiments of worldliness and those of piety-are so nicely

balanced and blended in a Mexican's mind, that a transition from the one to the other creates no unpleasant sensation in his breast. You have, therefore, no difficulty in introducing the subject of religion. Like the ox standing between the plough and the altar, he is prepared for either. He will listento you with politeness, and perhaps assent to every opinion you advance. If at any time his sense of propriety allows him to contradict you, it is done in a courteous and respectful manner. That ill-bred, profane insult which the Celt and the Saxon frequently throw upon the colporteur as he visits their homes, is never encountered among the descendants of the Spaniard or the Aztec-at least in New Mexico. The Mexicans never treat a religious teacher with rudeness. They may in heart disagree with him, but they give him a hearing, and this is one step towards gaining a belief in the truths that he utters.

Besides this, the Mexicans are very sociable. Being uneducated, and having much leisure, they love to gather together, to kill time, by hearing or telling something new. Everything, then, within the compass of their knowledge stands a fair chance of being thoroughly canvassed. Seated on the ground, with their blankets thrown loosely over their shoulders, their broad sombreros covering their swarthy brows, smoking their cigaritos, it is half amusing, and yet sad, to gaze upon them as their conversation waxes warmer and warmer. The flashes of a sprightly imagination, the foreible argument, the new and sudden turn given to an old maxim, the choice language, and the kindly tone of the discussion evinced on such occasions,-all show that Romanism, buried up in its foul superstitions no fool's intellect when she threw her mantle over the Spanish race. On such occasions the visit of the colporteur will, in all probability, receive the largest share of remark. His teachings, his books, his manner and conduct, and every possible conjecture respecting him, will afford a theme of interesting and prolonged examination. His advent there has made an impression, his teachings will be retaught after his departure. The object of his visit, and much that he said, will long be remembered. He will have awakened and set in motion a train of new ideas, all pointing, to say the least, towards Calvary.

The colporteur will visit places where the least opposition to his labors will be encountered. In the largest towns we generally meet a strong current of American-in most cases, more properly Irishungodliness setting directly against all evangelical effort. The Mexicans see no illustrations of Protestantism except in the Missionary and a very few other families. But they call all who speak the English language Protestantes; and from the example of such they infer that Protestantism is very little, if any, purer than their own creed. This influence is against the missionary and the colporteur. But in mountain towns, remote from the thoroughfare of travel and business, the colporteur meets no difficulties arising from the conduct of those whom the Mexicans call los Protestantes, but most of whom, in fact-I will say for the honor of my own countrymen-are not only not Americans, but foreigners, and not only not American Protestants, but foreign Catholics.

Again, in all the larger towns and most populous districts, we encounter the Romish priesthood face to face. They watch every movement. They break up, or try to break up, our schools and Spanish congregations. They trail us from house to house. They gather up our Bibles and tracts. They labor to efface at once every impression we make on the popular mind. In Santa Fe we have the bishop, who wields a tremendous power, and who, under a plausible and fascinating exterior, controls and sets in motion all the deep-laid plots which force the low thunders of a wide discontent from the crushed souls of the helpless, but by means of which he hopes to maintain for his faith its present undisputed supremacy in New Mexico. In addition to this wily French bishop, we have also in Sants Fé two or three priests, a large Romish school in full blast, a nunnery, or something which answers the same purpose, and a host of spies and emissaries. In Albuquerque we have the vicario, next to the bishop in power, but far surpassing him in cool impudence-a perfect embodiment of the Inquisitorial system—a genuine storm spirit, quiet only when he must be, but indefatigable, unscrupulous and terrible when set on by the bishop or the demon within him-yelling, screaming, thundering at all times and in all parts of his parish. We have missionaries in these two towns, and have had for some three or five years, and the first native conversion in either place has yet to be reported. The priests have the vantage ground. They are entrenched in a very Sebastopol of superstition, supplied with all the energies of war. Their batteries are well mounted, and their artillery sweeps the whole field of battle. In the face of such fortified influences, the soldier of the true cross is destitute of every human aid, and is strong only in the almightiness of truth. His brow will eventually be wreathed with victorious laurels; but the battle will be long and arduous. In distant towns, however, he may hope for more speedy success. The influence of the priesthood is less direct and powerful. Many such towns are visited by the padre perhaps only once in a month; and unless he has tithes to collect or wishes to have a gambling or drunken spree, or to attend a fandango, he may leave the place as soon as he says mass. The colporteur may have been there, and read and expounded and distributed the Word of Life. An impression may have been made, the leaven of truth may be at work, and the

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