From Egypt to Japan

Our visit was coming to an end. A day or two we spent in the shops, buying photographs and bronzes, and in paying farewell visits to the missionaries, who had shown us so much kindness. The "parting cup" of tea we took at Dr. Hepburn's, and from his windows had a full view of Fusiyama, that looked out upon us once more in all his glory. We were to embark that evening, to sail at daylight. Mr. John Ballagh and several ladies of "The Home," who had made us welcome in their pleasant circle, "accompanied us to the ship." We had a long row across the bay just as the moon was rising, covering the waters with silver, and making the great ships look like mighty shadows as they stood up against the sky. "On such a night" we took our farewell of Asia.

The next morning very early we were sailing down the bay of Yedo, and were soon out on the Pacific. But the coast remained long in sight, and we sat on deck watching the receding shores of a country which in three weeks had become so familiar and so dear; and when at last it sunk beneath the waters, we left our "benediction" on that beautiful island set in the Northern Seas.

We did not steer straight for San Francisco, although it is in nearly the same latitude as Yokohama, but turned north, following what navigators call a Great Circle, on the principle that as they get high up on the globe, the degrees of longitude are shorter, and thus they can "cut across" at the high latitudes. "It is nearer to go around the hill than to go over it." We took a prodigious sweep, following the Kuroshiwo, or Black Current, the Gulf Stream of the Pacific, which flows up the coast of Asia, and down the coast of America. We bore away to the north till we were off the coast of Kamschatka, and within a day's sail of Petropaulovski, before we turned East. Our ship was "The Oceanic," of the famous White Star line, which, if not so magnificent as "The City of Peking," was quite as swift a sailer, cleaving the waters like a sea-bird. In truth, the albatrosses that came about the ship for days from the Aleutian Islands, now soaring in air, and now skimming the waters, did not float along more easily or more gracefully.

As we crossed the 180th degree of longitude, just half the way around the world from the Royal Observatory at Greenwich, we "gained a day," or rather, recovered one that we had lost. As we had started eastward, we lost a few minutes each day, and had to set our watches every noon. We were constantly changing our meridian, so that no day ended where it began, and we never had a day of full twenty-four hours, but always a few minutes, like sands, had crumbled away. By the time we reached England, five hours had thus dropped into the sea; and when we had compassed the globe, we had parted, inch by inch, moment by moment, with a whole day. It seemed as if this were so much blotted out from the sum of our being – gone in the vast and wandering air – lost in the eternities, from which nothing is ever recovered. But these lost moments and hours were all gathered up in the chambers of the East, and now in mid-ocean, one morning brought us a day not in the calendar, to be added to the full year. Two days bore the same date, the 18th of June, and as this fell on a Sunday, two holy days came together – one the Sabbath of Asia, the other of America. It seemed fit that this added day should be a sacred one, for it was something taken, as it were, from another portion of time to be added to our lives – a day which came to us fresh from its ocean baptism, with not a tear of sorrow or a thought of sin to stain its purity; and we kept a double Sabbath in the midst of the sea.

Seventeen days on the Pacific, with nothing to break the boundless monotony! In all that breadth of ocean which separates Asia and America, we saw not a single sail on the horizon; and no land, not even an island, till we came in sight of those shores which are dearer to us than any other in all the round world.

Here, in sight of land, this story ends. There is no need to tell of crossing the continent, which completed our circuit of the globe, but only to add in a word the lesson and the moral of this long journey. Going around the world is an education. It is not a mere pastime; it is often a great fatigue; but it is a means of gaining knowledge which can only be obtained by observation. Charles V. used to say that "the more languages a man knew, he was so many more times a man." Each new form of human speech introduced him into a new world of thought and life. So in some degree is it in traversing other continents, and mingling with other races. However great America may be, it is "something" to add to it a knowledge of Europe and Asia. Unless one be encased in pride, or given over to "invincible ignorance," it will teach him modesty. He will boast less of his own country, though perhaps he will love it more. He will see the greatness of other nations, and the virtues of other people. Even the turbaned Orientals may teach us a lesson in dignity and courtesy – a lesson of repose, the want of which is a defect in our national character. In every race there is something good – some touch of gentleness that makes the whole world kin. Those that are most strange and far from us, as we approach them, show qualities that win our love and command our respect.

In all these wanderings, I have met no rudeness in word or act from Turks or Arabs, Hindoos or Malays, Chinese or Japanese; but have often received kindness from strangers. The one law that obtains in all nations is the law of kindness. Have I not a right to say that to know men is to love them, not to hate them nor despise them?

He who hath made of one blood all nations of men to dwell on the earth, hath not forgotten any of His children. There is a beauty in every country and in every clime. Each zone of the earth is belted with its peculiar vegetation; and there is a beauty alike in the pines on Norwegian hills, and the palms on African deserts. So with the diversities of the human race. Man inhabits all climes, and though he changes color with the sun, and has many varieties of form and feature, yet the race is the same; all have the same attributes of humanity, and under a white or black skin beats the same human heart. In writing of peoples far remote, my wish has been to bring them nearer, and to bind them to us by closer bonds of sympathy. If these pictures of Asia make it a little more real, and inspire the feeling of a common nature with the dusky races that live on the other side of the globe, and so infuse a larger knowledge and a gentler charity, then a traveller's tale may serve as a kind of lay sermon, teaching peace and good will to men.

1

That we may not do injustice, we add the excuse which is given, which is, that such attendance of the police is necessary to prevent a general mélée and bloodshed. It seems that these fakirs, holy as they are, belong to different sects, between which there are deadly feuds, and if left to themselves unrestrained, when brought into close contact in a procession, they might tear each other in pieces. But this would be no great loss to the world.

2

Mr. Talboys Wheeler.

3

There are many parallels between Louis XIV. and Aurungzebe. They were contemporaries – and both had long reigns, the former a little over, and the latter a little less than, half a century. They were the most splendid sovereigns of their time – one in Europe, and the other in Asia, and with both the extravagance and prodigality of the monarchs prepared the way for revolution after their deaths.

4

This is given as an average distance in an air line. The nearest peak, Boonderpunch (Monkey's Tail), is forty-five miles as the crow flies, though by the nearest accessible route, it is a hundred and forty! Nunda Davee is a hundred and ten in an air line, but by the paths over the mountains, must be over two hundred.

5

A very fascinating book, especially to Alpine tourists, or those fond of climbing mountains. The title, "The Abode of Snow," is a translation of the word Himalaya. The writer is a son of the late Dr. Wilson, of Bombay. Taking a new field, he has produced a story of travel and adventure, which will be apt to tempt others to follow him.

6

"Narrative of Mr. Shepherd." He owed his escape to the fact that before the surrender of the garrison he had made an attempt to pass through the rebel lines and carry word to Allahabad to hasten the march of troops to its relief, and had been taken and thrown into prison, and was there at the time of the massacre.

7

As the historian of the mutiny has frequent occasion to speak of the treachery of the Sepoys, it should not be forgotten that to this there were splendid exceptions; that some were "found faithful among the faithless." Even in the regiments that mutinied there were some who were not carried away by the general madness; and, when the little remnant of English soldiers retreated into the Residency, these loyal natives went with them, and shared all the dangers and hardships of the siege. Even after it was begun, they were exposed to every temptation to seduce them from their allegiance; for as the lines of the besiegers drew closer to the Residency and hemmed it in on every side, the assailants were so near that they could talk with those within over the palisades of the intrenchments, and the Sepoys appealed to their late fellow-soldiers by threats, and taunts, and promises; by pride of race and of caste; by their love of country and of their religion, to betray the garrison. But not a man deserted his post. Hundreds were killed in the siege, and their blood mingled with that of their English companions-in-arms. History does not record a more noble instance of fidelity.

8

There are not many Americans in Calcutta, and as they are few, we are the more concerned that they should be respectable, and not dishonor our national character. Sometimes I am told we have had representatives of whom we had no reason to be proud. We are now most fortunate in our Consul, General Litchfield, a gentleman of excellent character, who is very obliging to his countrymen, and commands in a high degree the respect of the English community. There is here also an American pastor, Dr. Thorburn, who is very popular, and whose people are building him a new church while he is absent on a visit to his own country; and what attracts a stranger still more, an excellent family of American ladies, engaged in the Zenana Mission, which is designed to reach Hindoo women, who, as they live in strict seclusion, can never hear of Christianity except through those of their own sex. This hospitable "Home" was made ours for a part of the time that we were in Calcutta, for which, and for all the kindness of these excellent ladies, we hold it in grateful remembrance.

9

This book furnishes a good illustration of the incidental service which missionaries – aside from the religious work they do – render to the cause of geography, of science, and of literature. They are the most indefatigable explorers, and the most faithful and authentic narrators of what they see. Its full title is: "Burmah: its People and Natural Productions; or Notes on the Natives, Fauna, Flora, and Minerals, of Tenasserim, Pegu, and Burmah; With systematic catalogues of the known Mammals, Birds, Fishes, Reptiles, Insects, Mollusks, Crustaceans, Anellides, Radiates, Plants, and Minerals, with vernacular names." In his preface the writer says:

"No pretensions are made in this work to completeness. It is not a book composed in the luxury of literary leisure, but a collection of Notes [What is here so modestly called Notes, is an octavo of over 900 pages] which I have been making during the twenty years of my residence in this country, in the corners of my time that would otherwise have been wasted. Often to forget my weariness when travelling, when it has been necessary to bivouac in the jungles; while the Karens have been seeking fuel for their night-fires, or angling for their suppers in the stream; I have occupied myself with analyzing the flowers that were blooming around my couch; or examining the fish that were caught; or an occasional reptile, insect, or bird, that attracted my attention. With such occupations I have brightened many a solitary hour; and often has the most unpromising situation proved fruitful in interest; for 'the barren heath, with its mosses, lichens, and insects, its stunted shrubs and pale flowers, becomes a paradise under the eye of observation; and to the genuine thinker the sandy beach and the arid wild are full of wonders.'"

10

Dr. S. Wells Williams, who was familiar with Buddhism during his forty years residence in China, says ("Middle Kingdom," Vol. II., p. 257):

"The numerous points of similarity between the rites of the Buddhists and those of the Romish Church, early attracted attention, … such as the vow of celibacy in both sexes, the object of their seclusion, the loss of hair, taking a new name and looking after the care of the convent. There are many grounds for supposing that their favorite goddess Kwanyin, i. e., the Hearer of Cries, called also Holy Mother, Queen of Heaven, is only another form of Our Lady. The monastic habit, holy water, counting rosaries to assist in prayer, the ordinances of celibacy and fasting, and reciting masses for the dead, worship of relics, and canonization of saints, are alike features of both sects. Both burn candles and incense, and bells are much used in their temples: both teach a purgatory, from which the soul can be delivered by prayers, and use a dead language for their liturgy, and their priests pretend to miracles. These striking resemblances led the Romish missionaries to suppose that some of them had been derived from the Romanists or Syrians who entered China before the twelfth century; others referred them to St. Thomas, but Prémare ascribes them to the devil, who had thus imitated holy mother church in order to scandalize and oppose its rights. But as Davis observes: 'To those who admit that most of the Romish ceremonies are borrowed directly from Paganism, there is less difficulty in accounting for the resemblance.'"

The following scene in a Buddhist temple described by an eye-witness, answers to what is often seen in Romish churches:

"There stood fourteen priests, seven on each side of the altar, erect, motionless, with clasped hands and downcast eyes, their shaven heads and flowing gray robes adding to their solemn appearance. The low and measured tones of the slowly moving chant they were singing might have awakened solemn emotions, and called away the thoughts from worldly objects. Three priests kept time with the music, one beating an immense drum, another a large iron vessel, and a third a wooden bell. After chanting, they kneeled upon low stools, and bowed before the colossal image of Buddha, at the same time striking their heads upon the ground. Then rising and facing each other, they began slowly chanting some sentences, and rapidly increasing the music and their utterance until both were at the climax of rapidity, they diminished in the same way until they had returned to the original measure… The whole service forcibly reminded me of scenes in Romish chapels."

11

Dr. Haswell died a few months after we left Burmah.

12

As this incident has excited a great deal of interest, I am happy to give it as it occurred from an eye-witness. One who was on board of Commodore Tatnall's ship writes:

"I was present at the battle in the Pei-ho in 1859, and know all the particulars. Admiral Hope having been wounded, was urged to bring up the marines before sunset, and sent his aid down to take them off the three junks, where they were waiting at the mouth of the river. The aid came on board the "Toeywan" to see Commodore Tatnall, tell him the progress of the battle, and what he had been sent down for, adding that, as the tide was running out, it would be hard work getting up again. As he went on, Tatnall began to get restless, and turning to me (I sat next), said: 'Blood is thicker than water; I don't care if they do take away my commission.' Then turning to his own flag-lieutenant at the other end of the table, he said aloud: 'Get up steam;' and everything was ready for a start in double-quick time. When all was prepared, the launches, full of marines, were towed into action by the "Toeywan"; and casting them off, the Commodore left in his barge to go on board the British flag-ship, to see the wounded Admiral. On the way his barge was hit, his coxswain killed, and the rest just managed to get on board the "Lee" before their boat sunk, owing their lives probably to his presence of mind. It was only the men in this boat's crew who helped to work the British guns. I suppose Tatnall never meant his words to be repeated, but Hope's aid overheard them, and thus immortalized them."