The Jungle Boy

MANY years ago, a lady sat in the verandah of

her Burmese house, endeavoring to decipher the

scarcely legible characters of a palm-leaf book,

which lay in all its awkwardness, upon the table

before her. As she bent over her book, a little

more wearily than in the freshness of the 

morning, 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 toward

 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?" inquired he,

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?" inquired

the lady. 

"I want to see him I want to confess to


"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 everything bad, I am afraid of going 

to hell, and I want to see Jesus Christ, for I 

heard one of the Loo-gyees 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

 that are in me, and the bad deeds come of evil


What can I do?"

"Nothing; but to come to Christ, poor boy, like

all the rest of us,"the lady softly murmured, but

she spoke this last in English, so he only raised

his head with a vacant "B'halai?"

"You cannot see Jesus Christ now."

She was interrupted by a sharp, quick cry of


"But I am his humble friend and follower."

The face of the listener brightened a little.

"And he has commissioned me to teach all

those who wish to escape from hell how to do


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 having 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

 indescribable look of stupidity which 

characterizes the uncultivated native.

In due time, a sober band of worshipers 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 



"Among; all therefore that be dear to us, let 

Jesus alone be specially beloved."


SUFFER me to come to Jesus,

Mother, dear, forbid me not;

By his blood from hell he frees us;

Makes us fair without a spot.

Suffer me, my earthly father,

At his pierced feet to fall.

Why forbid me? Help me rather;

Jesus is my all in all.

Suffer me to run unto him;

Gentle sisters, come with me;

O that all I love but knew him,

Then my home a heaven would be.

Loving playmates, gay and smiling,

Bid me not forsake the cross;

Hard to bear is your reviling,

Yet for Jesus all is dross.

Yes, though all the world have chide me,

Father, mother, sister, friend;

Jesus never will forbid me!

Jesus loves me to the end!

Gentle Shepherd, on thy shoulder

Carry me a sinful Iamb;

Give me faith, and make me bolder,

Till with thee in heaven I am.