DARK MEMORIES.
The mules having returned and had some hours’ rest, there was
nothing now which need delay the travellers’ departure from the
village; but Oscar wished to see a little more of the Karen apostle
before starting for Moulmein. After partaking of breakfast with his
wife, Mr. Coldstream quitted the hut, and went in search of Ko Thah
Byu. On inquiring where he could be found, one of the peasants directed
Coldstream to a small clump of bushes with the remark, “Ko Thah Byu
read――pray――alone.”
Though hesitating a little as to whether he should intrude on the
solitude of the Karen preacher, Oscar yet overcame his scruples, as
another opportunity for conversation with his preserver might not occur.
Coldstream found Ko Thah Byu seated on a large mossy stone, with his
Bible on his knee; he was in the act of closing the holy book when the
Englishman appeared, and the Karen rose to meet him.
“I have not yet thanked you, as I now do from my heart,” said
Mr. Coldstream, “for my own preservation, and, far more, for that of my
wife. Only show me how I can prove my gratitude. Is there anything that
I can offer――”
An expressive movement of the native’s brown hand, and a contraction
of his brow, made Mr. Coldstream pause. Oscar felt that it would be
as impossible to press gold on this moneyless Karen as upon a European
noble. It was scarcely necessary for Ko Thah Byu to express his
thoughts in words, though he did so with a native dignity which gave
them force. “Ko Thah Byu wants nothing from his white brother. Ko Thah
Byu did only his duty. Keep money for those who need.”
“I should like to have a little conversation with you, my friend,” said
Mr. Coldstream, seating himself on the trunk of a felled tree which
happened to be near, and motioning to the Karen to resume his former
seat. “I should like to know something of your former history; I desire
to hear what it was that first led to God one whom I regard as one of
the noblest of men.”
“_The noblest of men!_” repeated Ko Thah Byu with an emphasis of scorn
that had in it something almost savage. “The sahib knows not of whom he
speaks. _The noblest of men!_” again repeated the Karen. “A few summers
past, if the demons of hell had been asked, ‘Who is blacker than we?
who should have a deeper place in the pit?’ the demons would have
clapped their hands and yelled out, ‘Ko Thah Byu!’” Then the fierce
expression on the Karen’s stern features strangely softened, and his
voice became soft as a woman’s as he went on, “And now if the angels
in heaven be asked, ‘Who should praise most of all? who should wet
Christ’s feet with most tears, and kiss them with most exceeding great
love?’ the angels would lift up their hands and cry, ‘Ko Thah Byu! Ko
Thah Byu! for he has been most forgiven!’”
“Can this be so?” exclaimed Oscar Coldstream: “were you, before your
conversion, so much worse than other men?”
“In childhood Ko Thah Byu was wicked――ungovernable,” was the reply.
“The sapling was crooked, bent, and black; what could the tree become?
Even now Ko Thah Byu has in his heart a fierce wild beast that is
chained, but which too often breaks his chain, and then men wonder
that the Karen Christian should be so unlike his Master.”[3]
Coldstream looked at the Oriental’s rugged features and flashing eyes,
and could imagine how formidable his bursts of passion might be if not
tamed down and subdued by grace.
“Ko Thah Byu was a slave once,” pursued the Karen, “knowing
nothing――very dark――man’s slave and a slave of Satan. Padri Judson
set slave free from man’s bonds, but the worse bonds held him tightly
still. Ko Thah Byu then learned something of the good, but he followed
the bad. Got debt; Christian brother Ko Shway Bay paid debt――took Ko
Thah Byu as servant. But servant bad, very bad; master could not keep
such servant――sent him away. All men say Ko Thah Byu no Christian,
Ko Thah Byu got very black heart. But Good Shepherd see that leopard
could be turned into sheep; Christ could change wild beast’s spots,
Christ could put love in black dead heart. The Lord caught Ko Thah Byu
when sinner just dropping into hell――over edge, falling down, down,
down――Christ caught hold, and saved, and pulled sinner up, and washed,
and set upon Rock!” Tears gushed from the Karen’s dark eyes as he told
of redeeming love.
“You had fierce temper and evil habits,” observed Coldstream, who was
listening with intense interest to the tale of the convert; “but you
had perhaps never committed any great crime.”
“Many,” was the Karen’s reply, uttered with startling vehemence. “God
commands, _No steal_; Ko Thah Byu great robber. God commands, _Do no
murder_; Ko Thah Byu wound, stab, kill!”
“Did you kill a man?” exclaimed Oscar, starting to his feet from
emotion too strong to be repressed.
“Kill many men, more than these fingers thrice told,” was the reply of
Ko Thah Byu, as he stretched out his dark muscular hands.
“And you yet found grace――a murderer found grace!” cried Oscar.
“Sahib, Christ’s blood wash even murderer white,” was the earnest
reply; “washed David, who sinned the murderer’s sin. David’s song is Ko
Thah Byu’s song, the history of Ko Thah Byu’s life;” and with a fervour
that appropriated every word as if it were a spontaneous burst from his
own heart, the Karen repeated the first part of the thirty-second psalm,
which fell on Oscar with all the force of a new revelation:――_Blessed
is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered. Blessed is
the man unto whom the Lord imputeth not iniquity, and in whose spirit
there is no guile. While I kept silence, my bones waxed old through
my roaring all the day long. For day and night Thy hand was heavy upon
me: my moisture is turned into the drought of summer._ The Karen’s
voice dropped, his head drooped; he seemed again to feel the crushing
pressure, the wasting thirst of the soul, and was too much occupied
with his own memories to notice the effect of his words on his hearer.
Then raising his head again, and looking upwards with such a glance as
seemed to tell of heaven itself opening before him, Ko Thah Byu went on
with the psalm:――_I acknowledged my sin unto Thee, and mine iniquity
have I not hid. I said, I will confess my transgressions unto the Lord;
and Thou forgavest the iniquity of my sin._
For the first time since, when a boy, he had stood by a mother’s grave,
Oscar Coldstream was sobbing!
He started on hearing a step, and turned a few paces aside, that no
one might see his agitation. A Karen had come to call Ko Thah Byu to
the hut of a peasant taken suddenly ill. The evangelist hastened to the
place, and Oscar was left alone with his thoughts. With his back turned
towards the abodes of men, the Englishman strode up and down, and the
exclamation burst from his lips, “But for Io, I would tell all, and
find peace.”