whispering sounds seemed to pass through their thick foliage, as though they, too, were singing their evening hymn. The fragrant flowers at Zwingli's feet-the blushing Alpine rose, the dark-blue gentian, and the starry anemone-hung their heads laden with dew, whilst the air was filled with sweet perfume.

Zwingli drew a deep breath, and looked around him. Far beneath his feet lay the world with its sin and sorrow, but now hidden from his view by a dense fog. Moved to and fro like a sea of gold, the huge vapoury masses rose and fell, now parting and showing glimpses of some blue mountain lake, or of some town or village in the plain; then, again, revealing for a moment the silvery mountain crests around. Thus, every instant had its new charm, and every feature of the landscape its varying beauty. Nor was this all. The sound of the herd bells was borne from far and near to the ear of the solitary watcher, whilst the fog carried upwards the music of the evening bells in the valley; and richer and deeper than all rose the "carillon" of the matchless bells of the church of "Our Lady." These bells are justly celebrated, and none who have ever heard their majestic peals on some quiet evening, or in the solemn hour of midnight, will forget the effect they have upon the mind.

Zwingli loved these bells, and his ears eagerly drank in the well-known music. They seemed that night to speak to his soul with deeper and more solemn voices, like the sighs of anxious and distressed souls, calling to him"out of the deep" for rest, truth, and light. He felt their trembling vibrations in his very heart; and already a softer light beamed in his eyes, and the expression of intense agony vanished. The combined influences around him gradually

calmed his agitated spirit, and whispered, "Peace, be still." The breezes on breezes on the mountain-top, the distant sounds from the valley, the murmuring of the trees, and the soft cadence of the neighbouring waterfall-all seemed to echo the same sweet words. And now a strange deep tone again breaks the stillness. It might be the song of some mountain spirit, so wild and supernatural is the sound, and yet the burden of the melody is the praise of the Most High, rendered by mortal lips. Zwingli, the son of the Alps, knows this voice well. It is the Alp horn, through which the herdsman on the opposite mountain now offers his evening prayer. Clearly and distinctly the words, "Praise the Lord, O my soul!" greet the eager listener. The echo of the adjacent mountain catches the refrain; instantly another answers, "O my soul!" and far in the distance, from the deep dells of the lake-encircled valley, rises, like the whispered prayer of a rival, the last faint echo, "My soul."

And see the mountains have caught the spirit of prayer! The sun is setting in glory, and the glit tering chain sends him a glowing farewell. Dark shadows begin to gather in the valley; purple mists slowly creep upwards, and a grand spectacle reveals itself upon those snowy peaks. One after another be gins to glow in crimson light, till soon the whole chain is bathed in radiance, and wrapped, as it were, in a mantle of fire. Even Zwingli's face, which is raised to heaven, reflects the same light, and shines as that of an angel. Thus half-an-hour passes away.

But now the glory begins to fade from yonder highest mountain-top; the rose tint changes to pale pink, and then to white again; the purple mist has gained the summit; a mo

ment more, and the last faint glimmer is gone-the mountains stand there, cold, white, and silent, wrapped in the cloak of twilight; they have offered their evening prayer, and now are hushed to rest. But the holy fire still burns in the heart of the champion of God, as he now slowly stretches his arms towards the calm sky, whilst his trembling lips appear at first unable to find words for the deep and solemn aspirations of his soul.

"Oh! my own beautiful home," he murmurs at last, "how bright are

thy glories; and yet, alas! how deep thy misery and shame! In the presence of that God who must be worshipped alone in spirit and in truth, I dedicate my life and all that I have to thy service, and to the cause of thy God and mine. I will not rest till thy fetters are broken-till thy Lord and Maker is again thy hope and thy rock; for though no tyrant sways his sceptre over my beloved home,-only if the "Son makes thee free," oh Switzerland thou shalt be in slavery no more.

WE left Toungoo, as we were expecting when I last wrote to you on the 17th of December. We took with us twelve coolies-Shans, who carried our provisions for the way, clothing, food, and bed, in baskets on their shoulders, each man carrying two baskets-one suspended from each end of a bamboo about four feet long. They could thus carry about 30lbs. without much inconvenience. We had six native Christians to assist in preaching as we went by the way. Two of them

Through the kindness of our friends, Mr. and Mrs. Hill, of Ealing, we are again

nabled to furnish our readers with some intelligence of the progress of the Lord's work in connection with the labours of Mr. and Mrs. Bixby. From its approximation to the south-west of China, the future of this mission it is impossible to estimate. Contributions may be sent to J. Hill, Esq., 1, Macquarie-place, Ealing.-[ED.]

were Burmans, two Shans, and two Karens. We had also a cook and two boys to take care of our ponies. There were three routes by which we could commence our journey, and we were in great doubt as to which it would be best to take. We of course made it the subject of special prayer, and two days before we started, while our minds were yet undecided, the few Christians there are in Toungoo met together, and asked the Lord to point out clearly the way we should take. On the evening of the next day, San Qua Lah, the most distinguished native preacher in Burmah, and one who

has travelled in the country more extensively than any other person, native or European, came to us, and said his mind had been very much exercised in regard to the route we should take, and he had made special

inquiries of natives from distant parts of the country, and he was convinced that the nearest and best route to the Shan States lay across the mountains, where no white man had ever been, beyond the first two days' journey. Moreover, he had found a Karen chief who would be our guide for the first two days, and would then send men with us to a village on the mountains, where we should get special information in regard to all that region of country. This seemed to us a direct and comforting auswer to our prayers, and we started with cheerful, hopeful hearts. We made short journeys the first few days, in compassion to our coolies, whose naked shoulders showed clearly the marks of the bamboos on which they carried their baskets, and would have blistered had we pressed them too hard at first.

Our road was a narrow footpath, at first leading along the banks of the Sittang river, which passes through Toungoo; on the second day the path led us away from the river through an upland forest; and the third day brought us to the mountains. Every day we crossed streams of water, sometimes large and sometimes small. The deepest I crossed on a little raft of bamboos; the shallow streams I rode through, and sometimes I picked my way through on a log. At times our only path, for a mile or more, would be up the side of a mountain, in the rocky bed of a stream that flowed fromits summit. Here our ponies were obliged to step with great care to avoid falling, and the branches of trees and vines were so interlaced over our heads, that we had need of the greatest care, to avoid being caught by them; and sometimes we were compelled to dismount in the bed of the stream to pass under the fallen trunk of some gigantic tree which lay across

it.

In such places the tracks of wild elepants were always numerous, and at night we often heard them crushing through the forests near us, but we did not see them. . . . . It was a wild kind of life, but I enjoyed it; and the hope we cherished of declaring the Gospel in the very depths of heathenism, often refreshed us when we were weary. The first part

of our journey, after reaching the mountain, lay through the country of the Bwais, a wild tribe of Karens, many of whom have embraced Christianity through the preaching of native disciples. They received us with great joy, though they had never seen a white teacher before. It was delightful to see a whole village, as soon as the sun had set, gathering in their little chapel to worship God, and sing the praises of our own blessed Redeemer. is the daily practice in all the Christian villages in the mountains.

This

In one of their villages we found a man who could tell us of the countries beyond. He was a native chief; his mother was a Bwai, his father belonged to a still wilder race, the Gekhos. He knew the road to the Shan States through the Gekho territory, but it was dangerous because they heard that the commissioner was coming to punish them for resisting the Bwai police, and they were determined to resist him. When they saw me, however, they said, "We do not think this man has come to do evil, for he has brought his wife with him." Mr. Bixby so far gained their confidence that they proposed to "drink truth" with him. This he readily consented to do, as the contract merely implies that, as long as life shall last, each shall regard the interests of the others as his own, and shall protect and watch over them whenever he has an opportunity. It is ratified by eating

as

together, from the same dish, a piece of pork, cooked with especial care. Mr. Bixby having promised to represent the case of the Gekhos to the proper authorities-this gave them great satisfaction, and they sent me to open the paths they had closed up, and to tell the villagers we were friends. With the utmost cordiality they conducted us from village to village till we had passed the borders of British territory, and entered the district of Mobyal, the first of the Shan States. A conspiracy amongst the Coolies to take our lives compelled us to turn back to Toungoo with heavy hearts. The Gekhos have selected ten of their most promising young men and sent them home with Mr. Bixby, that they might learn to read as soon possible, and return to teach their countrymen. They have now been here one month, and their diligence is truly astonishing; every day they weary out two or three teachers before taking any rest. Still continue to pray for us, and add to your prayers this new and hopeful race of people. They are now the connecting link between the Christian Karens and the Shan States. The Gekhos have no written language; but as many of them speak the Burmese, they are able to receive instruction in that language. We have sent one Burmese assistant and his wife to one of their important villages, and a young Burmese Christian to another village. Should they be converted, the Gospel will be brought to the very doors of the Shans, and its influence must pass over. We may have erred in thinking God would have us go to the regions beyond, while these starving ones were at our door, but we knew nothing about them till we were thus led away there.

L. A. BIXBY.

"Toungoo, Burmah,

"July 8th, 1864.

In my third and last visit to the mountains, I had the pleasure to baptize fifty-five persons, and organize two churches, and there are many more almost persuaded to be Christians. This baptism was one of the most solemn and exciting occasions of my eighteenyears' ministry. The company was made up from several villages, and they were all baptized at the same time and place. Two companies were formed on Saturday, at two villages situated on the slopes of two mountains, between which there was a deep gorge and a running stream, which made a beautiful baptistry in one of its deep basins.

"At first, when the candidates were examined, they objected to being baptized in the same water, on account of some old dislikes or quarrels.

you to

What! were

"What!' said I, are you going to carry your old hearts into the church with you? Are not your old hearts dead yet? What have do with dead hearts? you not washed in the same blood? Are you not joined to one Spirit? Are you not going to the same heavenly home? Who is going to build a wall of partition between you in heaven?' 'Oh, never mind, teacher, never mind; we will be baptized in the same water; we are all brethren now.' Thus their old prejudices melt away before the warming love of the Gospel.

"At a signal bell to be rung in the village where I was stopping, the parties were to come down the hill from both sides, and meet in the deep valley between.

"At nine o'clock Sunday morning, May 22, the gong was rung, and the motley group from our side-men, women, and children, dressed in their best town-made crimson silks-fol

lowed me, single file, down the mountain pathway. No one was seen or heard from the other side; and, fearing the gong was not heard, one of the company, with a stentorian voice, called out to them. A voice replied; then our whole company shouted out, and it was responded to by as many, or more, on the other side; and their voices echoed and re-echoed among the hills.

"The effect was moving beyond description, for my mind was fully alive to the momentous object of our visit to the mountain stream, and the powerful influences that would be set in motion by that eventful day's work. Soon the two companies met at the water, and exchanged cordial greetings-a company of some hundreds. I praised, and prayed, and preached, until my strength wellnigh failed me, and then led the willing disciples into the liquid grave, and buried them with Jesus.

"It was a hallowed hour. I erected my Jehovah-Shammah, and passed on to the most distant of the two villages, borne a part of the way over water and mud on the backs of the disciples; and then, after a little rest, broke bread to them, and tried to give them some just ideas of the nature of a Gospel church. Besides, there were many listeners who were not of us, and I tried to give to each a portion of the bread of life. Towards evening I returned, a distance of about two miles, on foot, and broke bread again and preached in one of those spells which the Lord sometimes vouchsafes to His servants when he seems to be borne up on the flood-tide of some mighty current, and has little to do but go on, on, on, without effort or fatigueeven as it was with Paul, I fancy, when he preached until break of day.

"But before morning I was made fully conscious that I was still in the

body, and the poor flesh entered a loud complaint of hard treatment. The next day, however, I rode about forty miles in the saddle, and reached home at sunset, where I have since remained in quiet, but not idleness. Since then, the principal chief of the Ghekhos (whose friendship we made in our late travels), with five other chiefs and about forty followers, have spent a week with us at Toungoo, their first visit to town. They heard the Gospel attentively every day and night, and some of them declared their faith in Christianity.

'But what will be specially interesting to you, the great chief, who is the head of a powerful tribe, and holds under his sway several other tribes, after declaring that he had become a believer in Jesus Christ, said that he had selected a teacher to take home with him. The choice fell on our faithful Moung Shwa Ong, your missionary. He was already most usefully employed, both as preacher, writer, and teacher, in our school, for which he has a special fitness, and we know not how to spare him; but it was a great opening-a remarkable call.

"We threw the responsibility of deciding the question on his own conscience, but helped him with our prayers.

"He had only one day to decide after the choice had been made. known.

He was not seen much that day. In the evening he came to me, with a subdued but cheerful countenance. Well, Moung Shwa Ong, what do you think of going home with the Chief Neeghgan?' I inquired. Well, teacher, I think when people are thirsty we must give them water; by-and-by, when their thirst is gone, we cannot make them drink.'

"The momentous question was decided. The next day his quarto Bible, with a good supply of medi