MOUNG MOUNG, with all his boyish love of play, was an observant, thoughtful child. His father, who was thought by all who knew him to be a stern, grave man, was very kind to his little son, often allowing him to ask questions.
One day a conversation something like the following took place between father and son.
"Is it true," asked Moung Moung, "that she, my mother, worshipped the Lord Jesus Christ?”
A frown seemed to cast its own dark shadow upon the father's face, as he asked in a low, hoarse voice, "Who dared to tell you? Who dares to speak of such things to my son?”
Moung Moung trembled at his father's angry look. But his answer was, "I cannot tell you, dear father, for I promised I would not. The one who told me said it was as much as life was worth to talk of such things under your roof. But I want very much to know if what I heard is true. Will you not please to tell me?”
"We will talk of it another time, Moung Moung; you must not ask any more questions to-day, it is too hot even to talk now.”
Who were the father and child? Let us enter the mission zayat just as Mr. Judson calls a native helper to his side, and pointing to them as they turn a corner, asks, "Do you know that gentleman and his little boy?”
“Ah, yes, teacher, I know them well; the father is a writer under Government. He is a rich man. He lives in a large house, and keeps many servants, but—.”
"But what?”
"Teacher, you have asked me, and I must tell you the truth, he hates Christians.”
"Does he? How is it then that his son always smiles at me as if I were an old and dear friend?”
“Ah, that is because he has been taught to love you. Burmese children are very shy of strangers. Does the teacher remember how one morning, it may be six or even eight years ago, a young woman came to ask for medicine for her baby, who was very ill?”
"No, indeed, I do not remember," the missionary said with a smile; "my memory would be very good if I could remember all to whom I have given medicine.”
"But you must remember her," the helper continued,” for she was very beautiful, and her voice was like the sound of silver bells at midnight. Well, she was the wife of this gentleman, and her little boy, who was only a baby then, was very ill. The native doctor could do him no good, so she came to you, even though she feared it would make her husband angry.
“You gave her medicine for her child, and then you told her that she was sick, too, of a worse disease than the fever that burned in the veins of her baby. You told her that she was a sinner, and then you spoke to her about the Lord Jesus.
"When she left you gave her the Gospel by Matthew, and kneeling down you prayed God to bless her and make her a true believer in Christ.”
"Yes, I think I remember her now," said Mr. Judson. "But what came of it? did she read the book?”
“Yes, she read it at night as she watched by her baby, and she used to pray, too, for she would kneel down; at first she would speak in a whisper, saying the words you had used, or all she could remember of them. But I am sure God heard her, for she believed in Jesus, and had a great wish to be baptized as a Christian; but when she told her husband he was very angry and would not allow it.
“Moung Moung got well, but his mother was never strong, and day by day she grew weaker and looked more like a fading flower. Her husband, who was really very fond of her, was grieved, and bought her all kinds of beautiful things to wear, but he would not let her send for you. A little while before she died the Lord gave her faith and courage, and she spoke to all around her of Christ, telling them to love Him and worship none but Him.
"Sometimes Moung Moung has his mother's look, such a far-away look, and I am told he will ask questions, too, about God and heaven. I often think it may be that God, who so long ago called the child Samuel, may have spoken to the heart of that boy.”
The Indian summer had been hotter than usual and a terrible outbreak of cholera had visited Rangoon. Day after day the missionary and his helpers had been from early morning till late at night carrying medicine and needed comforts to the houses of the plague-stricken. Speaking, too, we may be sure, of Christ as a living, loving Savior, and many who, when in health, had not cared to listen to his message, now seemed anxious to hear words whereby they might be saved.
Late one evening he was told that the cholera had broken out in a house he often wished he was free to visit; the pleasant home of Moung Moung. "Who is sick?" Mr. Judson asked anxiously; "is it the boy or his father?”
"Ah, teacher, I cannot tell," replied the messenger, "I only know the cholera is there, and that you are wanted.”
A little later the tired missionary reached the house. The doors were all open, and passing quickly through the courtyard he reached an inner room, guided to it by a wild, wailing sound, he knew told of the presence of death. Lifting a white cloth, Mr. Judson looked with deep feeling at the lifeless form of Moung Moung. Pale and cold, but beautiful in death, the child lay as if asleep.
“He has gone up to the glorious country, to bloom forever among the white lilies of paradise," said a voice close to his ear. Turning quickly, he saw a middle-aged woman holding a palm-leaf fan before her face. Speaking in quick, low tones, she went on to say," I am sure of it, for he worshipped the true God, and trusted in the Lord Jesus Christ. He called on Him and He answered. Moung Moung was tired. Oh, so tired, and in pain, and the Lord who loved him, took him home to be a little lamb in His bosom forever.”
"When did he go?" asked Mr. Judson.
"About an hour ago," was the reply. "He was able to speak, and full of joy to the last. He talked only of the Lord Jesus Christ, whose face he so longed to see.”
"Was his father here?" said the missionary.
"His father! Ah, my noble master, teacher, he is going, too; come and see him."
"Did he send for me?”
"No, his pain was so great that he could not, even if he would; it was I, your handmaid, who sent for you.”
"How did you dare to do it? The danger to you was very great," Mr. Judson said.
"God was here, and I forgot to be afraid," the woman replied gently.
"How did you learn about Christ? I do not remember ever having seen you at the zayat.”
“Ah, teacher, I do not know very much, but it was my dear young mistress who taught me. She would read to me from the book you gave her, and just before she died she made me promise that when her baby was old enough I would teach him to pray to the true God.
"She said I was to go to you to learn more; but I was afraid, and did not. After a long time I found out a native Christian. He kept my secret, but he got me books and told me all he had heard from you, and I taught Moung Moung.”
Mr. Judson was not without hope that the father of his little friend, who died the same night, was really a believer in the Lord Jesus. So he and the faithful nurse could rejoice together over a whole family safe in heaven.