The Bozeman weekly chronicle., 1888-12-05
BRAVE MISSIONARIES.


Proviiential Interpositioil.
It Is clear, bright morning In the sum-
mer of 1924, but the sun that shines SO
brilliantly upon Rangoon looks down upon
strange and startling spectacle, writes
David Ker in one of his New York Times
Burmah letters The whole town seems to
be out of doors, and every street is a surg
ing sea Of wild faces livid with fear or black
with rage All along the rude defenses
which face toward the river mob of
ragged Burmese soldiers are swarming like
ants over the crunblng earthworks and
halfeffaced batteries, piling up rusty cam
non balls and dragging honeycombed guns
to and fro as if preparing for the coming of
an enemy. Such is, indeed, the case for il
you look in the direction whittier their
scowling eyes turn restlessly ever and anon
you will see far down the broad, winding
river, towering high above the dark mass
Of jungle that clothes Its banks, the white
sails Of several stately men-of war, with
the British flag waving above them. The
''white-faced beasts" whom the royal Tom
Thumb Of Burmah has 30 long insulted and
de6ed have come at last to demand satisfac-
tion in earnest.
But the thickets throng and the loudest
uproar concentrate themselves upon the
great market near the landing place, where
roaring whirlpool of gnashing teeth and
glaring eyes and clcnched hands and
brandished weapons and wolfish yells boils
and eddies round two unarmed white men,
bound, helpless, splashed with mud and
bleeding from many bruise, but still wear
ing look Of quiet and fearless calmness
that contrasts very strikingly with the
bowling fury Of the human wolves around
them. Missionaries and men of peace
though they are, they have in their veins
the bold American blood of the warriors Of
Bunker Hill and Valley Forge, and now,
saved from instant death at the hands of
the mob only to perish by the slower and
more deliberate murder of so-called tlaw,"
they stand amid this riot of demons as calm
and undaunted as ever.
When the doomed men are dragged be.
fore the Raywoon (Governor) of the city that
worthy Nero is somewhat at loss what to
do. Toany consideration of mere humanity
he is as insenslble as an English work-house
guardian; but, being shade less Ignorant
than the imbruted rufflans around him, he
knows that the white men can fight, and
that If they should take the town the mur.
der of these two victims will be searfully
avenged. But his feeble remonstranees are
drowned by the bloodthirsty yell of the rab-
BILE, and the Governor, like second Pilot,
sacrifices his conscience-such as it is-to
the clamor of ruffianly mob. The two
prisoners are sentenced to immediate
death and orders are given to carry them to
tho place of execution and behead them
forthwith.
The words Of doom are hailed with a roar
Of savage joy, and the sea Of fierce faces
and tossing arms poured out of the narrow
street in one great wave, sweeping along
with them their victims, behind whom
stalks the executioner himself, gaunt,
scowling, frghtful creature, with no cloth
Ing save blood-stained cloth around his
lolns, the hideous spots on whose wolfish
lace mark him as one of those miserable
criminals who have redeemed their own
worthless lives from death by accepting
the degrading office Of inflicting death upon
their fellow-men. As the ghastly process
sion moves onward the wretch flourishes
his broad-bladed knife above the heads of
the doomed missionaries, and at every rep
etition Of this grim pantomime howl Of
cruel triumph rises from the savage throng
around them
But even in this deadly peril with the
shadow of the grave deepening around
them, the two brave Americans never
finch for moment. All the taunts and
curses OF the murderous rabble move them
not whit, and when they reach the place
OF death their only words are: ''Brother,
we shall meet again in Heaven" The Gov
ernor gives the fatal signal, the crowd falls
back to right and left, and the grim heads
man approaches his victims with brand
ished knife and forces them down upon
their knees.
"Where is your God, now, Christian9,
cries the savage, with a jeering laugh. .sYou
say that He Is all powerful-let Him save
you then il He can"
If it be His WILL" answers one of the
self-devoted heroes, " He can save us even
now"
The dauntless words are scarcely uttered
when there comes roar aslf the earth were
rent in twain-a thick gust of hot, sitting
smoke makes all us dark as highland in
the grim hush that followed is heard the
crash of falling roofs, mingled with shrieks
OF agony and cries of terror. When the
smoke clears away the two Americans find
themselves kneeling alone amid the vast
space which was lately SO crowded. Far in
the distance their cruel enemies are fleeing
like hunted sheep, while few PAGES off lies
the headless corpse of the savage execution
er, struck dead by an English cannon-ball,
but still clutehing in his stiffenlng hand the
huge knife which was to have drunk their
blood.
What follows is the mere mockery Of
battle. The valiant Governor and his officers
have already taken to their heels and the
feeble and unskillful fire of the lew who at
tempt resistance is speedily crushed by the
tremendous broadsides of the English men-
of-war. An hour later the British blue
Jackets pour into the town, only to find it
already deserted, and bear back with them
IN triumph the two gallant missionaries
VINO lived for many ears after to tell how
dod had remembered his servants in their
sorest need.
Punninrr MT naatI,u pxo.