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Jan Friso Groote
Rolf Morel
Julien Schmaltz
Adam Watkins

Logic Gates,
Circuits,
Processors,
Compilers and
Computers
Logic Gates, Circuits, Processors, Compilers
and Computers
Jan Friso Groote Rolf Morel
• •

Julien Schmaltz Adam Watkins

•

Logic Gates, Circuits,

Processors, Compilers
and Computers

123
Jan Friso Groote Rolf Morel
Department of Mathematics Department of Computer Science
and Computer Science University of Oxford
Eindhoven University of Technology Oxford, UK
Eindhoven, Noord-Brabant, The Netherlands

Julien Schmaltz Adam Watkins

Department of Mathematics Department of Mathematics
and Computer Science and Computer Science
Eindhoven University of Technology Eindhoven University of Technology
Eindhoven, Noord-Brabant, The Netherlands Eindhoven, Noord-Brabant, The Netherlands

ISBN 978-3-030-68552-2 ISBN 978-3-030-68553-9 (eBook)

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-68553-9
© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature
Switzerland AG 2021
This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the Publisher, whether
the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of
illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and
transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar
or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed.
The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this
publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from
the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use.
The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this
book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the
authors or the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the material contained
herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard
to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations.

This Springer imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Switzerland AG
The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland
This book is for everyone who wants to
understand how a computer can do such
marvellous calculations, when it is
essentially only constructed of simple logic
gates.
Preface

Computers have revolutionised the world in well within a century. Dozens of com-
puter processors have been built for every inhabitant of this earth, and this number is
rapidly increasing. Most people have little idea of how a computer goes about doing
its job. And there is a reason for it. Computers have been designed such that the in-
ternal complexity is hidden, not only for those that use computers but even for those
who design computer controlled systems, such as hardware engineers, programmers
and maintenance staff.
Are computers complex? The answer is both yes and no. Let us first look into
the reasons why the answer is yes. Computers are constructed with integrated cir-
cuits such as micro-processors. These processors can contain well over a billion
components, such as transistors and resistors, all connected with each other in an
intricate pattern. And against all odds, this number of components is still growing
very rapidly, quickly increasing the complexity of these integrated circuits.
All these systems are man made. This also adds to the complexity as many in-
dependent development teams made their own designs. In the history of computer
design virtually any conceivable idea has been implemented, and traces of many of
these ideas can still be found almost anywhere in computers. The need for back-
ward compatibility makes it hard to remove such ideas. On top of all this hardware
many layers of software have been implemented. This makes computer systems very
complex objects indeed.
But from a different perspective computers are not at all complex. Many of the
essential ideas behind the construction of computers are actually quite straightfor-
ward. The purpose of this book is to give a concise, but precise, description of the
essence of a computer. After finishing this book the reader should in principle be
able to build a computer system from elementary logic components with most of
the features that modern computers have, including an elementary operating system
and a compiler.
The book starts out with the logic components, and-, not-, or-, and nand-gates,
that are constructed from transistors. It is explained how such gates can be used to
implement any logic function over the boolean values true and false given by truth
tables. These are called combinatorial circuits.

vii
viii Preface

Numbers can be represented by sequences of these boolean values. Not only

positive numbers but also negative numbers using the so-called two’s complement
encoding. Using logic gates we can build circuitries that calculate addition, sub-
traction, multiplication and division on these numbers. Actually, we can implement
logic circuits to implement any function on numbers.
An important property of computer systems is that they can store and recall data.
We provide the notion of a finite state machine as an abstraction of a system that can
interact with its environment and store information about such interactions. Such
finite state machines can be implemented using flip-flops and combinatorial circuits.
Using flip-flops it is also possible to build registers, where computer words, rep-
resenting numbers, instructions and addresses, can be stored. Using registers and a
finite state machine it is not particularly difficult to construct a computer that can
execute machine instructions or, slightly more abstractly, assembly instructions that
form the heart of the execution of a computer program. We show how programs
can be written in assembly code, and we even show how a high-level programming
language can be compiled into assembly code. This should give the reader a deep
understanding about how their Java or C++ programs are executed.
As so many digital components can be packed inside a computer, advanced
mechanisms have been added to increase speed and usability. Where initially mem-
ories were relatively slow to access, they have been sped up by adding caches. Using
interrupts it became possible to let a single processor execute multiple programs si-
multaneously, serving multiple users at the same time, avoiding that the computer
would run idle between tasks. And the single processor machine has been replaced
by multiple core computers allowing us to run multiple programs simultaneously.
This increased complexity is nicely shielded from the users by the operating
system, together with some hardware support. By using memory protection multiple
programs can run simultaneously on a computer in such a way that they cannot
access each other’s data. Using virtual memory, programs can be written without
having to be concerned about the actual memory layout, where it is even possible to
use more memory than is physically available. By providing shielding layers around
the hardware it is not possible that ordinary programs damage or abuse the hardware
infrastructure. This makes modern computers pleasant and secure environments to
work in. We will explain the major ideas underlying these concepts.
The Raspberry Pi is very suitable as an experimental platform that stimulates to
understand how modern computers work internally. It can be used both as a high-
level computer and as a platform for low-level programming. It uses the elegant
ARM processor which is an extension of the simple processor that we explain in de-
tail in Chapter 4. We give an overview of the structure of the 32-bit ARM processor
and its core instruction set to ease experimentation.

Intended audience. This book is written as an undergraduate level course to help

students to understand what a computer is essentially doing. For this reason there
are many exercises that all have an answer at the end of this book. It is assumed
that the reader has a rudimentary understanding of electronics (resistor, capacitor,
transistor). Some experience in common programming languages such as Java or
Preface ix

C++ is needed. Furthermore, the reader is assumed to have elementary mathemati-

cal insight to understand basic theorems and proofs, for instance with induction.

Interdependency of the chapters. Chapters 1 to 6 all depend on each other, and

should be worked through sequentially. Chapter 7 does not require Chapter 6. The
final chapter, Chapter 8, depends on Chapter 7.

Further reading. There are many books written about the structure of computer
systems [24, 25, 30, 29, 32, 22, 13, 21], which generally cover the structure of
computer systems more extensively, or focus on certain aspects, such as circuits, or
assembly programming. This book provides a minimal but complete exposition of
all aspects of a computer system such that the essence of how a computer works can
be understood completely.

Acknowledgements. This book has been written to support the course Computer
Systems (2IC30) at Eindhoven University of Technology, The Netherlands. The
course was previously given by Michael Franssen and Rob Hoogerwoord, and the
book is based on the structure of the course as developed by them.
Thanks go to the following people for assisting us in writing this book. Special
thanks go to Bram Bosch who formally verified many of the circuits, leading to
numerous improvements [8], and Alan Mycroft for his many useful comments com-
ing from proof reading large parts of this book. We are also grateful for the helpful
remarks by Max Crone, Nikola Djurendic, Bas van Geffen, Bas van Hoeflaken,
Quinten van Eijsden, Mohamed Hemza, Anneke Huijsmans, Christine Jacob, Erik
Luit, Sebastiaan Peters, Jeroen van Riel, Anson van Rooij, Richard Verhoeven, Sten
Wessel and Hans Zantema on drafts of this book.

Nederwetten, Oxford, Vught, Eindhoven, Jan Friso Groote

June 2021 Rolf Morel
Julien Schmaltz
Adam Watkins
Contents

1 Basic components and combinatorial circuits . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1

1.1 The three basic logic gates . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1
1.2 Other logic gates . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4
1.3 Physical realisation of gates . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5
1.3.1 MOSFET transistors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5
1.3.2 CMOS gates . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6
1.3.3 Switching delays . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7
1.3.4 Moore’s law . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8
1.4 Algebraic manipulation and duality . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11
1.5 Two-layer circuits . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14
1.6 Karnaugh maps . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17
1.7 Functional completeness of the nand gate . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20
1.8 Multiplexers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21
1.9 Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22

2 Numbers, basic circuits, and the ALU . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23

2.1 Representation of unsigned numbers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23
2.2 Two’s complement representation of integers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27
2.3 Adding unsigned numbers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30
2.4 Adding two’s complement numbers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33
2.5 Subtraction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35
2.6 Comparing unsigned and two’s complement numbers . . . . . . . . . . . . 36
2.7 Arithmetic circuits: addition and subtraction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38
2.7.1 Addition: the half- and full adder . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38
2.7.2 Subtraction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 39
2.7.3 The carry look-ahead adder . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 40
2.8 The arithmetic logic unit (ALU) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42
2.9 Multiplication . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45
2.10 Alternative representations for numbers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 46
2.10.1 Sign and magnitude . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47
2.10.2 One’s complement . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47

xi
xii Contents

2.10.3 Floating-point numbers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48

2.10.4 Parity bits and Hamming codes. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48
2.10.5 Gray code . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48
2.11 Representation of character sets . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 50
2.12 Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 51

3 Sequential circuits . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 53
3.1 A one-time latch . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 53
3.2 The set-reset flip-flop/set-reset latch . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 54
3.3 The D-latch/D-flip-flop . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 55
3.4 Registers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59
3.5 Finite state machines . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 60
3.5.1 An example state machine with four states . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 61
3.5.2 Encoding the state machine . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 61
3.5.3 Realising the state machine using logic gates and flip-flops . 63
3.6 Random access memory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67
3.7 Finite state machines to control registers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 68
3.8 Hardware description languages . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 70
3.9 Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 71

4 An elementary processor . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 73
4.1 The general structure of the processor . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 74
4.2 The instruction set . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 77
4.3 The instruction fetch and the register transfer language . . . . . . . . . . . 81
4.4 The format of machine code instructions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 83
4.5 Implementing instructions on the processor . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 85
4.6 Optimisation of the execution of instructions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 88
4.7 More advanced instructions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 91
4.8 Input and output . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 93
4.9 Interrupts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 96
4.10 Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 97

5 Assembly programming . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 99
5.1 Labels and comments, EQU and CONS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 99
5.2 Arithmetic calculations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 102
5.3 A timed loop . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 104
5.4 Basic data structures . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 105
5.4.1 Arrays . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 105
5.4.2 Stacks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 106
5.4.3 Linked lists . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109
5.5 Memory layout . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 110
5.5.1 Allocation dependence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 111
5.5.2 Relocatable code and data . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 112
5.6 Subroutines . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 112
5.6.1 Saving the return address . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 113
Contents xiii

5.6.2 Returning values . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 115

5.6.3 Passing arguments on the stack . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 116
5.6.4 Local variables . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 118
5.7 Interrupt routines . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 120
5.7.1 Interrupt handlers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 120
5.7.2 Installing handlers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 122
5.7.3 An example: displaying keyboard strokes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 122
5.8 Multitasking and multithreading . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 125
5.8.1 Timer interrupts and context switching . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 125
5.8.2 Data structures for multitasking . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 126
5.9 Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 129

6 Compiling higher-level languages . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 131

6.1 A simple higher-level programming language . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 132
6.2 Context free grammars and parsing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 134
6.3 Type checking . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 136
6.4 Compilation scheme . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 137
6.5 Compiler optimisation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 143
6.6 Compilation of other language constructs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 144
6.6.1 Input/output . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 145
6.6.2 More complex data types . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 145
6.6.3 Parameter passing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 145
6.6.4 Classes and objects . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 147
6.6.5 Flow control . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 147
6.6.6 Exception handling . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 147
6.7 Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 148

7 Computer organisation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 149

7.1 Starting a computer system . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 149
7.1.1 The Basic Input Output System and the Power On Self Test . 150
7.1.2 The boot loader . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 151
7.1.3 Unified Extensible Firmware Interface . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 152
7.2 Operating systems . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 152
7.2.1 Processor modes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 154
7.2.2 System calls . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 156
7.3 Memory organisation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 158
7.3.1 Virtual memory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 159
7.3.2 Replacement policies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 161
7.3.3 Translation look aside buffers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 162
7.3.4 Code, stack, data and other segments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 162
7.4 Caches . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 163
7.4.1 Placement policies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 164
7.5 Multi- and many-core processor machines . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 166
7.6 Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 168
xiv Contents

8 The Raspberry Pi and the ARM processor . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 169

8.1 Raspberry Pi overview . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 169
8.2 The ARM architecture . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 171
8.2.1 ARM architecture instruction sets . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 172
8.2.2 ARM architecture profiles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 173
8.2.3 ARM security modes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 174
8.3 Virtual memory (the memory management unit) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 174
8.3.1 Memory attributes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 175
8.3.2 Memory attributes and the VMMU . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 176
8.3.3 The system memory management unit . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 176
8.4 The ARM instruction set . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 178
8.4.1 Instruction groups . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 180
8.4.2 Setting flags and conditional execution . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 184
8.4.3 Arguments and addressing modes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 186
8.5 The ARM calling convention . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 191
8.6 The use of system calls . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 192
8.7 Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 193

A An extended instruction set for the simple processor . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 195

B The ARM 32-bit instruction set . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 197

C Syntax of the register transfer language . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 201

Answers to the exercises . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 203

D.1 Answers for Chapter 1 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 203
D.2 Answers for Chapter 2 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 210
D.3 Answers for Chapter 3 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 216
D.4 Answers for Chapter 4 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 224
D.5 Answers for Chapter 5 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 231
D.6 Answers for Chapter 6 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 240
D.7 Answers for Chapter 7 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 244
D.8 Answers for Chapter 8 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 245

References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 247

Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 249
Chapter 1
Basic components and combinatorial circuits

In this chapter we introduce logic gates because they are very useful to describe dig-
ital hardware such as computer processors. This was observed by Claude Shannon1
in his master thesis in 1937 [28]. We show how such gates are constructed using
electronic components, such as transistors, and illustrate how circuits with more
complex functionality can be constructed efficiently from such elementary gates.

1.1 The three basic logic gates

In Figure 1.1 we find the symbols for three basic logic gates from which digital
circuits are built. Each logic gate, or gate for short, is a small hardware component
that implements a simple logic function from its inputs to its output. The and and
or gates have two inputs and one output. The not gate has one input and one output.
A truth table defines the relationship between the input and the output of that gate.
A 0 generally means a voltage of 0 V and a 1 represents a higher voltage, for in-
stance 5 V, although today lower voltages, such as 3.3 V, are typical. We discuss the
practical realisation of logic gates and their voltages and current flows later in this
chapter.
From the truth table it is obvious that the and gate has an output of 1 exactly if
both inputs are 1. For the or gate, the output is 1 if at least one of the inputs is 1.
For the not gate the output is 1 exactly when the input is 0. Because the not gate is
a simple gate occurring often it is also written as a single small circle, in particular
when joined to another gate.
Using these three basic gates more complex circuits can be made, for instance
circuits that add or multiply numbers. When gates are connected such that an output
of one gate is never connected to one of its inputs, not even via other gates, the
circuit is called combinatorial. In this chapter we restrict ourselves to combinatorial
1 Claude Elwood Shannon (1916-2001) was a mathematician and an electrical engineer. He
founded the field of information theory, and worked as a cryptanalyst on code breaking and se-
cure communication.

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 1

J. F. Groote et al., Logic Gates, Circuits, Processors, Compilers and Computers,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-68553-9_1
2 1 Basic components and combinatorial circuits

in1 in2 out in1 in2 out in out

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 1
0 1 0 0 1 1 1 0
1 0 0 1 0 1
1 1 1 1 1 1

in1 in1 in out

out out
in2 in2 in out

The and gate. The or gate. The not gate.

Fig. 1.1 Three basic logic gates

circuits. Chapter 3 deals with sequential circuits where outputs are connected to
inputs.
A simple but important component is a two-way multiplexer. It has three inputs
in1 , in2 and sel and one output out. If the selector sel is 0, the output out equals
in1 and if sel is 1, the output is equal to in2 . The truth table that reflects this is
depicted in Figure 1.2 on the left. The circuit representing this function is given on
the right. Note that there is a not gate just before the lower input of the upper and
gate, drawn as a small circle. Note also that input sel is connected to two input wires.
It is common to connect wires to the inputs of several gates, but there is a physical
limit to the number of gates that a single wire can drive.

in1 in2 sel out in1

0 0 0 0
0 0 1 0
0 1 0 0
0 1 1 1 out
1 0 0 1
1 0 1 0 sel
1 1 0 1
1 1 1 1 in2

Fig. 1.2 The truth table and the combinatorial circuit for a two-input multiplexer

These graphical representations of gates are useful when the circuits are small.
When the circuits become more complex a description in textual form tends to work
better. Therefore, in text we write in1 ∧in2 to represent the output of an and gate.
Alternative notations that one can encounter are in1 ·in2 , in1 ∗in2 and in1 &in2 . The
or gate is denoted as in1 ∨in2 , and also by in1 +in2 and in1 |in2 . The not gate is
denoted as ¬in, but also as in, and !in. The notations with ∧, ∨ and ¬ are more
common in text about logics and are referred to as the conjunction, disjunction,
and negation operators, respectively. The other symbols are more common in the
electronics literature.
1.1 The three basic logic gates 3

Exercise 1.1.1. Using logic notation, give the textual representation of the two-input
multiplexer depicted in Figure 1.2.
Exercise 1.1.2. Consider a circuit with three inputs in1 , in2 and in3 and one output.
Make a truth table in which the output is 1 only if exactly one input is equal to 0.
E.g., input 011 gives output 1, and input 111 produces 0 as output. Draw a circuit
realising this function.
Exercise 1.1.3. Implement an and gate with three inputs and a three-input or gate
using only the basic and, or and not gates. Generalise to an n input and gate and n
input or gate. How many basic gates are necessary? Can you give a proof?

in1 in2 out in1 in2 out in out

0 0 1 0 0 1 0 0
0 1 1 0 1 0 1 1
1 0 1 1 0 0
1 1 0 1 1 0

in1 in1
out out in out
in2 in2
The nand gate. The nor gate. The buffer gate.

Fig. 1.3 The nand, nor, and buffer basic logic gates

in1 in2 out in1 in2 out

0 0 0 0 0 1
0 1 1 0 1 0
1 0 1 1 0 0
1 1 0 1 1 1

in1 in1
out out
in2 in2
The xor gate. The xnor gate.

Fig. 1.4 The xor and xnor logic gates

Other documents randomly have
different content
our solicitude for enough properly-trained workers. These preachers
and teachers so much needed must come from our own schools.
Mr. Leonard has been very successful in getting access to the
Burmese. He baptized more than one hundred converts from
Buddhism during 1900. This shows how accessible the Burmese
people are. If it were true that the Burmese have been exceptionally
hard to reach hitherto, it is not so now. We have access to all classes
of them, and we are positive of winning them to Christ and of
founding our Church among them just as rapidly as we can be re-
enforced to do this work. Mr. Leonard has twice the territory to look
after that one missionary should have.
Our latest work to be done is that among the Chinese. We were
led into this work by two circumstances. In Rangoon we found a few
Chinese Christians who were not looked after by anybody, and to
these were added some of our own Chinese converts from Malaysia
and some from China. As Rangoon and Burma are the natural
termini of the immigrants from China by sea and overland, we have
a large Chinese population in Rangoon, and this same population is
very evenly distributed in all important villages of the province.
These Chinamen marry Burmese women, so that they become
identified with the Burmese people. As we aimed at the conversion
of the Burmese, it was easy to begin preaching for those that were
Christians, and to fortify the foundation of our mission to the
Burmese.
As in other work, we had to employ just such preachers as we
could pick up. But in 1897 we secured a young man trained by Dr.
West, of Penang, who has done faithful preaching in Rangoon and
vicinity. There have been some thirty baptisms since he came to us.
This work is so important that it must be done by somebody. There
is a demand for as great a school for these people as we have
founded in Singapore or Penang. But its support is not in sight.
 CHAPTER XV
A Unique Enterprise

I N March, 1897, the Rangoon Orphanage was removed to the

Karen Hills, east of Tomgoo, and established on an industrial
basis, where it has been maintained these four years under the new
plan, and it has become the “Unique Institution of the East,” as one
discerning official called it.
When one starts an enterprise that is entirely new he is called
upon for his reason for doing so. So long as he proceeds exactly as
other people, he needs no apology. But in all conservative countries
to go contrary to “custom” is to invite criticism, even if one’s efforts
are an advance on the established order. One curse of India is that
its people are enslaved by “custom;” and some of these customs are
very bad, and most of them are wholly unprogressive. Custom has
bound chains on the people, and they have worn these chains so
long that they have come to love their bonds better than liberty. In
most matters “change” is undesired, and to announce that a plan is
“new” is enough to condemn it hopelessly with many, and to start a
thousand tongues to attack it.
It has been shown elsewhere how pitiably situated are the poor
of European descent in all parts of Southern Asia, there is a greater
percentage of these poor dependent on some form of public or
private charity than among any people I know of in any land.
Perhaps in no country do the social customs do more to unfit the
poor to help themselves. I am persuaded also that very much of the
charity of the country, of which there is a great deal, is unwisely, if
not harmfully, bestowed. Rangoon, for instance, like all Indian cities,
has a charitable society made up of ministers and officials, which
dispenses a great deal of relief. Studying its methods as a member
for six years, I became convinced that, while very much good was
done, the system pauperized a relatively large number of people,
who should have been self-sustaining.
In this general dependent condition of a large part of these
people, there is the ever-present and acute distress of poor or
abandoned children, for which there have been established many
Orphanages and schools. All managers of these Orphanages are
appealed to by indolent or destitute parents to give free schooling,
including board and clothing, to their children. The truly orphaned,
or the abandoned, children are always touching our sympathies, and
appealing irresistibly to us for aid. The number of children born in
wedlock, as well as out of legal bonds, who are abandoned by
parents or legal relatives, is astonishingly large. The result of all
these combinations is to fill our Orphanages; for the innocent child
must not be allowed to suffer all the consequences of others’ sins.
So the “Orphanages” are found everywhere to care for these
children of European descent, whether they be Anglo-Indian or
Eurasian.
The founding of the Methodist Orphanage in Rangoon has been
noted elsewhere. In managing this Orphanage for a number of years
after the custom of the country, I became convinced that while the
amount of relief and protection given to child-life during its earlier
years was exceedingly great, there was a very serious defect in the
system of conducting all such institutions. I have intimated
elsewhere how little ordinary work is done by anybody of European
extraction in the whole of Southern Asia. This applies generally to
the schools, including even the Orphanages. Everything that can be
done by servants is delegated to them. It may surprise many
American readers to know that “orphanages” and “homes” for
Eurasians in India depend on the work of servants, and very little on
the inmates, much as other establishments of the country. This, too,
not only in those things where the work is beyond the power of boys
and girls to do, but in many kinds of work which it is considered
“improper” or “undignified” for them to engage in.
 It is considered right and proper for the girls to learn to sew, in
addition to learning their lessons, and sometimes to arrange their
own beds. Some of them even learned to cook some kinds of food,
generally “curry and rice.” But to sweep, or scrub a floor, or
thoroughly to clean a house, to wash or iron their own clothes, much
less the clothes of others, or to take up cooking or dish-washing as a
regular task, is not thought of. Those are “menial tasks;” a “servant
should do them.” What a lady of refinement and wealth in a Western
land often does from choice, even the destitute depending on
“charity” are ashamed to do in Asia. To be dependent or even to
“beg” is no disgrace; but to be a cook, a nurse for a lady, or
housekeeper, unless aided by servants, is considered a disgrace.
Indeed, these kinds of work are never done by any one unless under
great extremities. The boys and men are even less willing to do the
ordinary work of life. Clerkships and such like only are considered
“respectable” employment.
In all this it will be observed that the question is not one of
indolence or lack of energy, but one of a social system. The
individual is not so much to blame. He does not do differently from
his neighbors. In the matter of the children, the managers of the
Orphanages are responsible, in so far as they can resist the
enfeebling social conditions under which they work.
We then contemplated teaching the girls and boys under our
care to help themselves where others depended on servants; to do
this as a necessary part of a well-rounded education. Of course, we
recognized the fact that we were undertaking to modify the social
order, universal among an entire people. This was recognized as a
very difficult task, and nothing but a settled conviction that the old
order was fearfully defective led us to undertake it. Looking back
now, we have much interest in recalling the comments on this
undertaking. Many assured us that it was a work that should be
done, but would fail if undertaken. Others wanted the girls especially
trained for housekeepers, “so we can be released from dependence
on the Madrassi servants.” This suggestion was wholly philanthropic!
Another said several times: “What are you training those girls for?
For servants? I want some servants.” The author of the latter remark
has never made any other contribution to the Orphanage so far as I
can learn. People who had always received something for nothing, of
whom there were many, were opposed to the plan. The “prophets,”
of whom Asia has her share, were all against us. The “loquacious
oracles,” talking about what they did not know, as was their habit,
were all against us. But we had a few friends who gave unqualified
encouragement. These were of two classes; one a small company of
brave missionaries, of whom Bishop and Mrs. Thoburn were the
representatives. The other class were those who had done most for
and given most money to the Orphanage on the old basis. These
people who gave money and sympathy, while others gave poor
advice and criticism, said, “If you only teach these boys and girls to
care for themselves, it will be the greatest service to them.” We were
led to follow the advice of our friends, who really had the problem
on their hearts, and our own convictions, and so ventured on this
untried undertaking.
The first consideration was to find a more suitable location for
our Orphanage. To have undertaken to dispense with servants and
all native helpers, and to introduce an entirely new household order
in Rangoon, would have been to invite such a degree of
intermeddling by irresponsible people, as we did not care to be
annoyed with. Besides, the climate in the plains is very hot, and too
oppressive for foreigners to do the extent of physical labor required
to pioneer such an undertaking. The help that the boys and girls
could give at the beginning would be insignificant. We sought a
cooler climate. This could only be found in hills high enough to lift
you into a substantially cooler and less oppressive atmosphere.
I had been making investigation in the hills of Burma one
hundred and sixty miles north of Rangoon, for four years. The
original object of this investigation was to find a cool mountain
retreat to which our missionaries could go when worn with their
labor in the plains. Other parts of India had well-established hill
stations, but Burma had none. In my own case, when health failed, I
had to go the long journey to India, and to remain there many
months. Had I been acquainted with the hills of Burma, this could all
have been avoided by a change from the heat of the plains when I
first began to decline. After my return to Burma, I determined to
find such a place in Burma, if possible.
The first intimation of an accessible place came to me on a visit
to Tomgoo, where a member of my Church lived. His name was D.
Souza, a pensioner of the Indian Survey Department of the
Government. As this good brother was closing his work prior to
retiring from the service, he came to survey Thandaung, a hill
twenty-three miles northeast of Tomgoo, the head of the district and
a town on the railway. Thandaung had been an experimental garden
under the Forestry Department of the Government in the seventies,
where cinchona cultivation had been undertaken, also tea and coffee
had been planted. A school had been established at Tomgoo,
intended to teach the Karens how to grow these products. Later the
school was closed, and the cultivation on the hills abandoned. At
that time Tomgoo was the military outpost, and the authorities built
a road to Thandaung, and experiments with the place as a hill
station for their soldiers were made. When Upper Burma was
annexed in 1885, there was a great rush to Mandalay, and later to
regions beyond, where in the regions of Upper Burma various
attempts to open military hill stations were made. Thandaung was
abandoned, but not till records had been made very favorable to the
place as a sanitarium for Europeans. This record did good service for
us when we came to reinspect these hills.
Mr. D. Souza secured the most of the area of the old cantonment
and some of the buildings, with a view of making a large coffee
plantation. He had begun operations early in 1893, and I visited the
place first in June of that year. For four years I made frequent visits
during different months of the year to test the climate thoroughly. I
found the climate in delightful contrast with the plains at all times,
and surprisingly invigorating during most of the year. In this
investigation I was much aided by my former sojourn in three of the
hill stations of India—Almora, Naini Tal, and Mussoorie. It has the
altitude of the first and a cooler temperature during the hottest
weather than either of the three, while from November to May there
is no fog and no rain.
I was convinced that this most accessible hill in Burma would
serve admirably for our double need; a location for our industrial
plans, for our Orphanage, and a resort for tired missionaries.
By a vote of the Bengal-Burma Conference, I was instructed to
apply for land for the enterprise. This Conference authority was
sought because it was a good thing to be “regular” in a new
undertaking, and to have the moral support of the Conference when
the difficult places in working out the new scheme were reached. I
learned afterward that a good-natured brother remarked, “O yes,
vote him the authority to go ahead; he can only fail anyway.” The
Government gave us a lease of one hundred acres of land for the
new undertaking, and preparations were begun to move the
Orphanage, together with the superintendent and my own family, to
this hill. But positive authority to go to our new location was given at
the Conference session in February of 1897. It required much haste
to close up affairs in Rangoon connected with the Orphanage, and
make the move.
Before we actually took the train we allowed all the children
whose relations were unwilling to have them go with us into this
new location and untried plan to depart from the school. Nearly a
dozen left us. People whose children had been fed and clothed and
schooled for years for nothing were entirely unwilling to have them
go into the new location, where they were to learn to work as well
as to eat, and to a small extent work for what they ate. We yielded
to them, being conscious all the time of the ingratitude displayed for
years of care of their children. Indeed, it is the legitimate fruit of a
system that gives everything to dependent people and requires no
service in return, that they should come to take your service and
care as a right, without even a grateful acknowledgment for favors.
There are cases where recipients of free care have taken the
position that they were conferring a favor on the missionaries by
remaining under their protection and care.
 The experimental cinchona garden had grown up in a young
forest during the years since the Forestry Department had
abandoned it. The roads were all overgrown with rank jungle. We
had a small space cleared and a hut erected, made of bamboo mats,
and supported on bamboo poles with split bamboo used as tiles
folded over each other for a roof. The floor was two feet from the
ground, and consisted of split bamboos spread out flat and laid on
bamboo poles. This hut was expected to protect us only during the
month of April, at the end of which the rains begin. We arrived at
Thandaung on March 24th, and took up our abode in the primitive
domicile. The whole structure cost thirty dollars, and thirty-five
people moved into it, Miss Perkins, the principal of the Orphanage,
and the writer and his family included. This furnished us house room
at a cost of less than a dollar each.
This frail shelter was only intended to serve as a camping-place
for five weeks at the longest. I had planned for a better house than
this, and a month earlier I had given the contract for the preliminary
work of cutting and dragging timber for the framework, thinking it
would be possible to secure some kind of permanent shelter early in
the rains. It is true this more substantial building would have to be
limited to what could be built for three hundred dollars, as that was
all we had in sight for this new enterprise.
When we arrived on the mountain I found the Karens, who had
agreed to do the work of cutting and dragging timber, had failed us
entirely. But the tropical rains did not fail. The monsoon is always on
time in Lower Burma. With the first downpour all hope of building
operations was at an end.
In consequence we went into the long monsoon in this
temporary inclosure, by courtesy called a house. We improved the
shelter by laying some sheets of corrugated iron on the roof, and
weighting them down with poles. In this house we kept school, had
our sleeping apartments, and did the cooking and baking for this
large family. At first boys and girls were rebellious against assisting
in household work, and one girl ran away twice, all the twenty-three
miles to the railway. The second time we sent her permanently to
her relatives. But in good time much advance in orderly
housekeeping was made. Had meddlesome people not followed us
into even this isolated place, the work of training would have been
much easier. Work for the boys was begun also. They cut the wood,
carried the water, and milked cows; also cultivated vegetables, and
we planted some eight thousand coffee trees the first year. It was
the intention to make coffee-growing a basis for self-support. The
coffee the forestry officers had planted twenty years before was
growing finely, and was of the best quality. As we did our own work,
it would seem an easy matter to secure our own support by this
coffee cultivation alone. There were other industries projected also.
During all the months of the first rains the health of our little
colony was excellent. There was not one but what received a toning
up by the cooler atmosphere, mountain air, and healthful work. This
was a great cheer to us all, and was the first step toward making
Thandaung known favorably for a hill station.
Thandaung itself is a charming locality. The mountain chain, or
ranges, “Karen hills,” as they are called, of which the ridge known as
“Thandaung” (iron mountain) is a part, cover a very large area,
running from the Malay peninsula to China, and from fifty to one
hundred and fifty miles wide. The highest elevations are nine or ten
thousand feet, but most of the ridges and plateaus rise no higher
than three to five thousand feet. The scenery is magnificent and
varied in character. Looking westward from our school, the mountain
drops away at an angle of about fifty-five degrees into a deep valley,
down which the Pa Thi Chang stream runs in a succession of
cataracts. Then the hills rise again, forming a vast amphitheater.
Standing on the site of our school, this splendid view is constantly
before us. Looking beyond the lower hills, the view widens until the
whole of the Sitiang Valley, with its winding river and broad lakes,
light up the scenery with life. Beyond this plain rise in succession
three ranges of the low Pegu Hills, the intervening valleys but dimly
defined, while beyond all these there is a smoky depression
indicating the great valley of the Irrawaddy River. Beyond this again,
on the farthest horizon, are seen the rounded ridges of the Arracan
Hills, about one hundred and twenty miles from Thandaung. In all
this vast expanse of mountain, valley, and plain there is not one
barren rood of earth. Mountains and plains, where not recently
cleared, are covered with a tropical forest. Where there are
cultivated fields, they are matted with luxuriant green of growing
rice, or yellow with the ripened crop. This stretch of deep-green
verdure under a tropical sun throws on the vision a combination of
coloring that gives the place a “charm all its own,” as one admiring
visitor declared. When the rains have washed the atmosphere clear
of dust, the view is very clear. Houses in Tomgoo, twenty-three miles
away, are very clearly seen. The great oil-trees on the plains, some
specimens of which are left standing where a great forest has been
cut away, lift their straight gray trunks a hundred and fifty feet to the
first limb, and above this hold a majestic crown. Often have I seen,
under the reflected rays of the morning sun, those trunks of trees
defined like so many giant pencils. Yet they are twelve to fourteen
miles away. To the north and south the view is over well-rounded
hills and ridges for sixty to seventy-five miles. But it is to the east we
turn for the sublimest scenery. A little over a mile from the school a
peak rises above the surrounding heights. It is called Thandaung
Ghyi, meaning the greatest Thandaung. Climbing up the forest path,
and finally scaling a sharp and rocky height, we stand on the top,
only a rod across. From here all the western view, also north and
south, is taken. Toward the east an entirely new arrangement of the
hills is made. From where you stand there is a precipitous descent of
nearly three thousand feet into a basin fifty miles across, rimmed on
the east by a great ridge with a culminating peak called Nattaung, or
Spirit Mountain, nine thousand feet high. The Bre Hills, where the
wild Karens live, join this ridge, and the two curve until they
complete the opposite border of the basin. Never have I been able
to look on the sublime ranges of mountains and picturesque plains
over this sweep of two hundred miles of Burma’s varied surface,
without a profound sense of awe and wonder. It is so wonderful that
it grows on one, though seen daily for years.
 Miss Perkins and Group of Girls, Thandaung.

Once I went with a friend to Thandaung early on a January

morning. This is the season when fogs hang heavily over the plains
and reach high up the mountain valleys; but our mountain heights
are above the fogs, in perpetual sunshine. When we reached the top
of Thandaung Ghyi an unexpected view delighted our eyes. The
great basin to the east was filled with a dense fog, and we were
looking down upon it as it floated like a great gray sea three
thousand feet below. The lower mountains here and there lifted
above the fog, and their wooded tops made beautiful islands in the
sea of vapor. The sun was shining from the opposite side, and the
full flood of reflected glory fell upon our eyes.
At another time, accompanying a Government official, I went up
to get this view. The rains had not yet ceased, but were dying away.
We hoped to reach the top before the daily storm came on. We took
this chance, as the views are the most glorious after the rains have
swept the sky of every speck of dust. But the rains beat us, and we
were drenched, while the mountain was buried in the clouds. After
two hours we were growing cold, and were about to give up the
object for which we came. Lingering a last moment, I thought I saw
a rift in the clouds, and then the streak of light broadened, the rain
grew less, the darkness lifted, and a field of blue appeared, the sun
shone through the falling rain, and suddenly all the basin below, and
old Nattaung, rising above, appeared to our entranced vision! All the
heightened coloring was intensified by our position under the
shadow of the retreating cloud. Eyes may hardly hope to see a more
wonderful vision of mountain scenery than we beheld as this vision
was slowly borne from the rift in that retreating storm.
Our new enterprise was planted under such conditions and amid
such scenes as these. While it was a discouraging task, a daily view
of the mountains round about us drove away many an occasion of
low spirits. Taken all together, we in time became a happy family,
sharing a common task. During this first monsoon our frail house
several times gave way in floor, roof, or wall; but we suffered no
serious harm. In September, as the sun was occasionally breaking
through the clouds, and we were wondering what move we would
make for a better habitation, a telegram came from Bishop Thoburn,
which read, “God has sent you a thousand dollars for a house.” If
the heavens had opened suddenly, and the money had dropped into
our upturned hands, it could hardly have been more really a
providential gift in our extreme need. No wonder we all rejoiced
aloud! Later a letter came, telling us that a good woman who had
come from Scotland to India to visit missions, and having brought
considerable money with her to give to mission institutions, had
been in conference with Bishop and Mrs. Thoburn, and as a result of
a canvass of all the many worthy objects in which a great mission is
fostering, she chose this Thandaung school as the first to receive her
favor. She approved the undertaking, and gave a thousand dollars to
erect a building for the school. No wonder the bishop could
telegraph that God had sent the help. This was only the beginning of
the beneficence of this good woman; and the strange thing was that
she had no acquaintance with Methodists, and had been trained in a
Church of quite opposite teaching and polity from ours.
 The building of our first house deserves mention. The logs were
cut from the forest and dragged to a sawpit and sawed by hand by
Burmese sawyers, in the old style of one man above and one man
under the log. This was slow and crude work; but it was the only
way to get building material. The framework was built on posts set
in the ground, as has been the universal custom in the construction
of wooden houses in Burma. The iron for the roof had to be brought
from Rangoon by rail to Tomgoo, and from there to the mountain
top, by carts and coolies. This pioneer work took time and the most
constant supervision. The number and character of men that the
missionary has to work with, as well as the mixed character of the
population of Burma, may be understood from the following
account: I bought the iron of a Scotchman, who imported it from
Germany. It was delivered to a Eurasian station master, aided by a
Bengali clerk. The railroad that carried it is owned by the
Government, but managed by the Rothschilds. The iron was
delivered at Tomgoo by a Eurasian station master, aided by a Hindu
clerk from Madras, and another a Mohammedan from Upper India. A
Tamil cart-man carried it to the Sitiang River, where a Bengali
Mohammedan carried it over the ferry. A Telegu cart man hauled it
to the foot of the hills. Shan coolies carried it up to Thandaung,
where Burmese carpenters put it on the house with nails that I
bought of a Chinaman, who had imported them from America. The
logs of the house had been cut from the forest by Karens, and
drawn to the sawpit by a Siamese elephant! The missionary had the
simple duty of making all the connections and keeping the iron
moving to its destination.
But we were needing the new house badly before we got it. Part
of the roof was nailed on, the frame completed, but only a very little
of the plank walls begun, when our old hut collapsed entirely. We
had often patched the rotting bamboos, but as the monsoon passed
away the east wind, as usual on those hills, began to blow with
great force, and the frail walls repeatedly gave way before it, and
finally one morning the entire roof and sides were blown away. A
very wonderful providence was manifested, in that no one of our
large family was hurt. Most of the smaller children had been romping
on the east side of the house, and the gale of wind was blowing
from the east. In their play they suddenly ran down the path fifty
yards or so from the house. In that instant the roof and poles that
held it down were lifted and hurled upon the place where they had
been playing the moment before. The loose pieces of corrugated
iron cut the air like swords, and some of them were carried far down
the mountain side, which falls in precipitous descent from that point.
Had the children not been moved away for that moment by the
unseen hand of God, they must have been cruelly hurt. As it was
they were out of danger, while those of us that were in the collapsed
house suffered no harm. This is but one of many indications which
we had of the kindly Providence in all our pioneering. For nearly
three years from the beginning of this work, there was not a case of
serious sickness nor an injury of consequence by any accident
suffered by any of our little colony.
But as our old hut was gone beyond repair or reconstruction,
and as the wind was now cold, for it was November, the matter of
providing shelter became a serious matter. The frame of our new
house was completed, and a part of the roof was on, also a few
planks nailed upright at one corner. Taking this beginning as a
starting, we inclosed a part of the space of the building by bamboo
mats, laid a little flooring temporarily, and then, having divided this
into two rooms, we moved into our new quarters. The workmen
went right on with the construction of the house. We lived in the
house while it was being builded. When completed, though built of
unseasoned wood, poorly sawed and roughly put together, it was a
palace compared with what we had before, and indeed it continues
to this day to do very good service.
 First Permanent Building on Thandaung

About the time the house was completed, Miss Bellingham, the
generous donor of the thousand dollars, came to Burma to see what
use we had made of the money. She spent a week on Thandaung, to
our great delight and hers. She consented that the building might
bear her name, and we have since called it “Bellingham Home.”
Shortly after we began operations on this hill, public interest in
the place began to be shown. I wrote some letters to the Rangoon
papers, and visitors did likewise. The advantages of the place were
laid before the Government. Officials began to come up on tours of
inspection. The place grew in favor, and it was planned to give
Government sanction to making it into a station. A new road up the
mountain, giving a better grade than the old road, and the cart road
across the plain was metalled. The old travelers’ bungalow on the
hill, that had fallen into decay since the military left the place, was
rebuilt. So the improvement goes on till now. The latest plan
contemplates a cart road running entirely up the mountain, and the
survey of the whole hill into building sites. There is every promise of
this becoming the favorite resort in Burma for the people who seek a
change from the heat of the plains.
In the meantime the scheme has had a good degree of
prosperity, in spite of the fact that it was pioneer in character and
location. The irresponsible gossips continue to attack it, the fearful in
heart who love their bondage to the old order still stand agape as
they see the school continue on its way. The people who have been
beating their way through the world still cry it down. But an
increasing number of people who believe in self-dependence, and
the character it develops, are in great sympathy with this work.
Some who can pay full boarding fees send their children to us. They
have adopted with us the theory that this self-help is to be accepted
as a necessary part of a well-appointed system of education.
There has been a specially significant growth in usefulness
among the girls. They have learned to bake excellent bread, cook
and serve a variety of food in a cleanly and orderly manner, and to
keep the entire house in good taste and comfort. This is realized as
a great accomplishment when one has seen the slovenly, untidy
houses commonly found where the woman in the house does not do
anything to keep the house in order herself, and counts it impossible
that she should do what she chooses to call “coolie’s work.” A
woman like this would not know enough even to instruct good
servants in keeping the house, much less the worthless servants she
can ill afford to keep, whose only qualification is that they are as
incompetent as servants as their mistress is as head of the
establishment. Yet almost universally such women would prefer to
exist in a hovel, and give orders to a miserable servant, rather than
have a decent abode, if they had to sweep, scrub, or dust it with
their own hands. In contrast to these are the girls trained in our
industrial school. They can do all things necessary to keeping a
house, and have almost forgotten that there are any servants in the
world. They have done all this, and at the same time they have been
in school, doing as good work as girls in other schools, where they
depend on servants for even buttoning their clothes.
Our girls are self-respecting young women, far beyond what they
could have been had they not received the advantages in character
that come from self-help in ordinary daily tasks.
The boys have generally profited by the outdoor work. Having
nothing to begin with, it has not been possible as yet to organize the
outdoor work as that within doors. Plans are under way, however, to
develop this branch of the school, hoping for a large industrial plant.
Enough has been done in these four years greatly to encourage
those of us who have sacrificed something in planning and carrying
forward this new feature of industrial mission work. There is to-day
more material advantage in this plant than can be shown in any
institution anywhere that I have been for the money invested. More
has been done in direct school work, for the money invested, than in
almost all the English schools with which I am acquainted. The effect
of the work on the boys and girls under our care has exceeded our
highest hopes. I am sure not one of us would be willing to go back
to the old order of Orphanages. The boys and girls themselves do
not want to return to the old order. The school has met with a
degree of favor from those whose judgment is counted of the
highest value to us, by reason of the fact that they have put money
into the plant under the old order and the new also, that we hardly
dared to hope for. We have also received a bequest of seventeen
hundred dollars with which we have put up a second building. The
patronage of the school by people of means and social standing is
such as to encourage us much. It reveals the fact that the school
meets a want felt most by the people who make a financial success
of life, but see that self-help should be taught to every child
regardless of financial circumstances. These people believe that
indolence, dependence, and slovenly habits are a disgrace, and
honest work in all things is honorable.
Miss Perkins, now in the eleventh year of her continuous service
on the field, has carried on this work for more than a year, being
aided by Miss Rigby, who went to her aid in 1900.
This industrial school was founded to reteach the truth long
since forgotten in Asia that all kinds of household and manual toil
are respectable. The Lord himself was a carpenter, and washed the
feet of his disciples, which many of those who bear his name would
be ashamed to do. The school has run four years without a servant,
and is stronger than when it began. In this it is the only institution
among Europeans in all Asia that is so managed. It is absolutely
unique in this. It promises much usefulness and a large growth. But
if it were closed up to-morrow, it would still have proved by four
successful years that such a plan is possible of successful operation
even in Asia.
While it is not directly a part of mission enterprise, it may be of
interest to some reader to have some account of experiences and
observations in a Burma forest. Some such experiences came to me
in connection with life on and about Thandaung. Nearly the entire
distance from Tomgoo to Thandaung is through a forest reserve of
the Government. Several miles of this forest are made up of the
great trees before mentioned. One variety produces an oil used in
Europe for making varnish. The method of extracting this oil is very
curious. A deep cut is made in the tree near the ground, and in this
cut a fire is built and kept burning until the tree is blackened ten feet
or more from the ground. Then the coals are taken out of the cut,
which has become a sort of cup, into which the oil oozes from the
wound made by the fire on the tender tree. It seems almost cruel to
treat the giant trees in this way. It is astonishing that they survive
and heal over the great blackened scars left on their sides.
Another remarkable thing observed in these forests is the growth
of notable vines and parasites. Here is to be seen a great vine, like
half a dozen grape-vines joined together, climbing high round and
into these splendid trees. The trunk is usually not large, though so
tall. Then high up on this tree a spore of the peepul-tree finds a
lodgment, and sprouts, the leaf upward, the root running downward,
hugging close to the tree as if drawing life from the trunk.
Sometimes the young growth starts a hundred feet from the ground.
As its main root descends it throws outside roots which encircle the
tree, and these roots branch again so the whole trunk is soon
inclosed in a great net, ever tightening. Here is seen a very strange
thing. These roots do not overlap, but grow right into each other
when they come in contact, and the union is made without a trace
or scar. As these meshes of the living net grow, they tighten into a
hug that kills, first the vine and then the tree. Each in turn is
devoured by the great parasite. Its net meantime becomes a solid
wooden shell, reaching to the ground and lifting its crown high
among the other giants; a tree made great by the death of two
others; a tree and vine, each seemingly having as much right to live
as this parasite that preys on other forest life.
Another singular circumstance annually occurs in the forest.
About the end of January a species of great bees, as large as the
American hornet, come from migrations, nobody knows where, and
rest upon the under side of the branches in the crowns of these
great monarchs of the forest, which sometimes rise two hundred
feet from the ground. About this time some varieties of these trees
are in heavy bloom, and no doubt it is this which brings the bees.
They locate on only one or two kinds of trees, and at once begin to
build honeycombs, suspending them from the under side of the limb.
They multiply rapidly, and by March there are sometimes as many as
twenty to thirty swarms on a tree. The honeycombs are sometimes
three feet long, and hang perpendicularly a foot and a half. The
study of these bees is very interesting. They build on the same trees
from year to year.
But the most impressive fact is to observe the method of
collecting the honey. The trees are perfectly smooth, and are often
without a limb for one hundred and fifty feet. The Karens usually
collect the honey, and the Burmese dealers come to the camps to
buy it when first secured, and take much of it away to the towns.
How do they get the honey? The Karens climb up these bare trunks.
But how? Some of them are seven feet thick, and can not be
grasped in a man’s arms so as to enable him to climb. The daring
man drives thin bamboo pegs into the bark of the tree, and goes up
on these. More, he drives in the pegs as he climbs! They are about
eight inches long outside of the small portion imbedded in the bark,
and twenty-two inches apart. So the climber, beginning at the
ground, can only place two or three pegs before he begins his
ascent. In all this perilous climb he never has the use of more than
two of these short projections at once. On these he clings with feet
and legs while he must use both hands in driving a new one. To get
the honey, he must wait till night, and then with material for a torch,
a vessel for the honey, and a rope to lower it, he climbs up into the
darkness and out onto the great branches, where with lighted torch
he drives the bees away and cuts off the well-filled honeycomb, and
lowers it to others on the ground. In this manner he takes all the
honey from a tree. A more daring feat for a small return can hardly
be imagined. And nerves of steadier poise are required to prevent
the destruction of the climber. He receives a dollar and a half for
clearing one tree. Surely a life is regarded of little value among these
people.
 CHAPTER XVI
The Present Situation in Missions

T HE first century of modern missions has closed under

circumstances of great encouragement, not without its element
of deep solicitude. The last ten or fifteen years have brought to the
home Church the report of more triumphs of the gospel than any
like period since the days of the apostles. All lands are open, or are
being opened, to the missionary. Converts are coming by the tens of
thousands annually into our mission Churches, where even a quarter
of a century ago the same missions would have been content with
scores. Missionaries formerly had only those difficulties to adjust
which met the little band of converts, while to-day they have the
problem of the rapidly-growing Church, so recently gathered out of
heathenism.
China has had an upheaval; but all missionaries believe the
future of the Chinese missions is bright with hope. The martyrdom of
the missionaries and the Chinese converts has been as heroic as any
in Christian annals. Whatever the Chinaman may or may not be
generally, as a Christian he has proven himself worthy. The
persecuted young Church will be worthy of the millions of converts
that are to be gathered in when the country has been settled again.
In Southern Asia there has been the famine, far more terrible in
its consequences than the mobs and wars in China. But the famine
has been greatly relieved, and the impress of Christianity and
civilization relieving its worst distress has been wholly good. Many
thousands of converts are presenting themselves to the Church.
Baptisms were discontinued in the famine districts during the year of
greatest distress. But since the famine has ended, we hear of two
conservative brethren baptizing eighteen hundred in three days in
Gujarat, with the prospect of eight or ten thousand others coming
into the Christian community after them in that district alone.
All over the vast Indian field people hitherto counted difficult of
access are ready to listen to the gospel. The Burmese were counted,
until recently, so fortified in their Buddhism that they could not be
induced to accept the gospel; but we find it is not so now. One
missionary, new to the field too, baptized more than one hundred
last year, and he might easily have added many more if he had been
properly supported. What could not a mission, aggressive and large
enough to have momentum, do? It would be easy to add to the
young Church in Southern Asia, being gathered by Methodism,
twenty-five thousand converts annually, if we could be re-enforced
only slightly. Yet, as it is, we must keep accessible people waiting for
years till we can receive them.
There is just now an important movement going on in far away
Borneo, the Southern limit of this vast field. There has recently been
established a colony of Chinese Christian immigrants in the island.
Bishop Warne visited them, and placed a preacher in charge. They
are immigrants from Southern China. Other Christians will follow
these pioneers. They are in immediate contact with the Dyaks, head
hunters of the island, and must have much to do in influencing and
probably beginning a work of conversion among these savages of
the Borneo jungle.
All eyes are upon the Philippine Islands, where a new
reformation appears to be going on. Thousands of Catholics, who
have never known the comfort of a pure, simple faith, nor the joy of
reading the Word of God, are crying out for the full gospel light.
They are appealing to the Protestant missionaries for instruction,
and they are being led to a purer faith.
All this array of current mission facts declares that God is owning
his messengers in every land; that he is fairly crowding success on
to the missionaries, to cheer them and quicken the Church in home
lands into something of a true conception of the magnitude and
urgency of his plans for giving the gospel to every creature, and to
lift the age-long night from the Christless nations.
Thus success of missions throws a great burden of work and
responsibility upon the missionaries at the front. It can hardly be
understood in America. In the home land most pastors have
Churches, the whole machinery of which has long been in working
order, and they pursue that work along well-established lines. Their
entire surroundings are of, or are influenced by, the Christian
Church, and at least a Christianized civilization. The pastor is not
required to go outside of the well-known methods of carrying on our
Church work.
In the foreign field the contrary is the case. The missionary is
compelled to be a pioneer in methods of work. He is against a living
wall of idolatrous humanity, and he often feels very sorely the lack of
human support and sympathy. He has to carry the finances of the
mission as well. Oftentimes he is the only resource the mission
enterprise has. In the Methodist mission in Southern Asia more
property has been secured by the unaided missionary than through
Missionary Societies. In addition to all the burdens of a surrounding
heathenism and of mission business, the missionary has charge of
more Church members than the average pastor at home. In the
Methodist Episcopal Missions of Southern Asia the members of
Annual Conferences, including missionaries and native members,
have more than twice as many Church members to care for, per
man, than the pastors at home, the average being taken in both
cases.
The greatest need of every mission with which the writer is
acquainted, and pre-eminently so in the Methodist Episcopal Mission,
is more well-equipped missionaries. Yet this is exactly what we can
not get. We can only hope that we can maintain about the number
of missionaries on the whole field which we now have. This means if
there is any extension of the field so as to require missionaries in
new places, they must be thinned out in the older parts of the
mission. The Church has candidates for the foreign field, but the
Missionary Society has no money to send them. Recently some of
the finest candidates have been refused for the lack of money for
their support, while the missionaries on the field are fairly staggering
under the load they carry, hoping for delayed re-enforcements, who
do not arrive. The disproportion of work actually in hand, to the men
and women who do that work, is most distressing.
There are great questions of missionary policy to settle. A strong
force of missionaries, adequately superintended by men who are
acquainted with the work they superintend, is the least that can be
asked in our missions. A close and detailed oversight of all mission
interests, working out a far-sighted policy, which changes only by
light that comes by actual experience in mission work, is of the
greatest value. It is clear this superintendency can not be
accomplished by periodical visits of some official whose whole life
has been spent in the home field. A secretary or a Mission Board is
of little account in determining the internal management in any far-
distant field. An occasional visit by some such official may do
incidental good in acquainting the missionaries with the condition in
the home Church, and in bringing to the people at home fresh facts
from the field. But for administrative purposes on the field such visits
are of little or no value.
The Methodist Episcopal Missions in Southern Asia have been
most highly favored in thirteen years of the missionary episcopacy,
with Bishop Thoburn to fill the office of superintendent and leader.
His administration is sure to become more and more monumental as
time reveals its scope and character. It is now clear that no other
episcopal supervision hitherto provided by Methodism is equal to this
missionary episcopacy for the far-distant mission fields.
The success of this policy and of Bishop Thoburn in that office
determines the question of the future policy of the Church in the
administration of the mission field of Southern Asia. The General
Conference of 1900 by a decisive vote increased the missionary
episcopal force in this field, and by an equally decisive vote elected
Dr. E. W. Parker and Dr. F. W. Warne to the missionary episcopacy,
and in co-ordinate authority with Bishop Thoburn.
The election of Dr. Parker as bishop was a general recognition of
his long and pre-eminently successful missionary career. The election
of Dr. Warne to a like office was in response to a like choice of India,
for this younger, but very efficient missionary, whose pastorate and
presiding eldership in the city of Calcutta had been of such a
character as to make him well qualified for the larger office to which
he has been called. But one year has passed since their election, and
a great change has come. Bishop Warne has been eminently
acceptable in his new office, and he has traveled widely throughout
the great field where Methodism has its foothold in the southlands of
Asia. But Bishop Parker’s stalwart form has yielded, after a
prolonged battle with an obscure disease which laid its hand upon
him within a few months after his election. His death demands a
reverent pause, while we drink in renewed inspiration from reflection
on his noble Christian manhood and really pre-eminent service as a
missionary.
Bishop Parker had labored over forty-two years as a missionary
to India, and it is a safe statement that in this more than twoscore
years he did more work than any missionary in India of any Church,
or perhaps in any land, in the same time. The work which he did in
laying broad foundations, winning men to Christ, calling into being
valuable mission agencies, and as a masterful, statesman-like
administration in the Church, has classified him, from two separate
and distinct sources, as “the most successful missionary in India.”
Every element of his noble Christian manhood and eminent ability
measured up to the requirements of this exceptional estimate of the
missionary and his work.
He has now ascended to his heavenly reward, to be forever with
the Lord and to share in his glory. The cablegram that reached us in
America was brief, but laden with a great sorrow and a greater
triumph, “Parker translated!” We will no more have his counsels, his
inspiring presence, the grasp of his strong hand, or hear his manly
voice in Indian Conferences. For this loss we weep. He was
“translated.” In this glad triumph we are filled with joy. Death is
abolished to such a saintly follower of his Lord passing from mortal
vision.
Bishop Parker was ready for other worlds. His recent testimony
was triumphant, in keeping with the godly life he lived. It was fitting
that the good bishop should take his departure from amidst the
glorious Indian hills he had loved so long. His last days were spent in
Naini Tal, amid the most varied mountain scenery in India. Here lies
the lake of wonderful clearness, stretching for a mile in length, filling
the basin. Around the lake is the mall, or broad road. From this road
others branch off, some circular and others zigzagging up the
mountains, which rise a thousand and more feet above the lake,
their sides clad from base to top with, evergreen, pines, and oak.
Here residences, churches, and schools nestle among the trees
wherever space can be found. Here tired missionaries go in May and
June to rest from the fiery heat of the plains below, and to gird
themselves anew with strength as they look upon God’s mountains.
From the northern ridge they look upon the whole mountain
amphitheater with its glorious lake “shimmering” in the sunlight,
high-rimmed with its border of living green, while to the north,
stretching hundreds of miles to east and west, rise the perpetually
snow-covered Himalaya mountains. The picture, one of nature’s
wonders, has few equals for inspiring beauty and grandeur
combined. As the man looks through the rare, clear, mountain air, on
peaks and range resting in quiet strength and majesty, he almost
feels as if he was in sight of the eternal hills where God is.
Amid such scenes, with his brave wife by his side, companion of
his missionary labors about him, and a host of God-fearing Christians
all over India, among whom were a multitude of the dusky natives,
waiting in sorrow because they “should see his face no more,” the
bishop was “translated.” As his Lord on the Mount of Olivet took one
look upon his disciples, and then a cloud received him and he
ascended on high, so his servant was translated from the hills of
Naini Tal; was caught up amid the clouds to be forever with his Lord.
 So the workmen fall. Others labor on, but they are
overburdened. They must be re-enforced. The young native Church
must be shepherded. Thousands of others will join the flock.
Just here we missionaries have our greatest fear. We are the
Church’s representatives. God is with us, and the doors are all open.
We have done all that men and women can do. Will the Church at
home sustain us in the great and glorious task that is appointed to
us? This is our only fear. So loyal and true are many of the hearts at
home to the cause of missions, that it seems unkind to speak of any
lack. Yet, while we love every generous impulse of those who give
money and time to that which, as missionaries, we give our lives and
our loved ones, we love our cause so much the more that we must
be true to its urgent needs and its perils for the want of a little
money.
That our advance is retarded over a vast area, that many of our
institutions are imperiled, that native preachers are being dropped
for the lack of the small salary they require, and that we are being
compelled to ask of our Board to give up a section of our India
Church because missionary appropriations are cut down, is but an
outline of our care at this time. To the home Church we look for
relief.
This relief can come only in one way. Our people at home, in the
most wonderful prosperity America ever knew, are not increasing
their gifts to missions with their growth in wealth. Some are, but
most are not. The aggregate of all moneys given by the Methodist
Episcopal Church for preaching the gospel in heathen lands is only
about twenty-two cents per member. This is all that is given to
declare Christ to the Christless nations! Our people are giving about
forty times as much for their own religious instruction and for the
gospel in Christianized lands. This proportion is distressing to the
missionary who stands among millions of people who have been
waiting nineteen centuries, and have never yet heard that a Savior
had been born into the world.
 The writer is convinced that the measurable failure to give to the
cause of missions as our people are able to give, is due to the failure
to get the information to them in an effective way. It is not the
writer’s intention to locate the responsibility or discuss a policy of
raising missionary funds, but clearly a virtual standstill in receipts
under present conditions is defeat for the missionary cause.
One fact is certain, our present methods of raising funds leaves
the majority of our people without feeling the immediate and
imperative need of this cause, or inspiring them with the certainty of
gaining a great result by the investment of money in missions. We
are in the second year of the “Thank-offering” movement, and more
than eleven million dollars have been pledged toward the “Thank-
offering,” and certainly not nearly one hundred thousand dollars of
this amount has gone to missions. Not one dollar in a hundred!
One chief reason why this disparity exists is because all other
causes have employed special agencies to reach every nook and
corner of the Church, and the cause of missions is being operated at
long range and on general principles, often as only one of the
“benevolences,” and must necessarily fail to advance to any
considerable extent under present conditions and absolute
restrictions.
But there are hopeful indications. Some officials and some
pastors begin to see the situation and to inquire what can be done
to relieve the straits. A number of loyal souls are tenderly giving
their most cherished treasures to the cause of missions. In a year’s
campaign at home I have come in heart-touch with so many such
that I would gladly believe there is a multitude who cherish the
cause of missions as supreme, as it really is.
The Mission Conference in Burma, little company that it is, is
being re-enforced by a promising band of six missionaries, long
overdue it is true, but now gladly and gratefully received. Nearly all
of these are being sent by the sacrifice of people who give largely of
that which is a sacrifice to give. One missionary family is being sent
out and sustained for a part of this year by more than fifteen
hundred dollars given by the preachers of the Kansas and the St.
Louis Conferences. This very large giving of men of very small
resources to a special object that touched their hearts has put new
courage into all our little Burma Mission. In this giving they have
helped put true-hearted missionaries in the field, and I believe
permanently enlarged their sympathy for missions, if indeed they
have not also indicated an improved policy of raising mission funds.
The Woman’s Foreign Missionary Society, through some of its
young lady Auxiliaries, is doing most generous things for the re-
enforcements to Burma.
Burma has waited long for even small re-enforcements, and
needs yet many other things before it is fairly launched as a mission.
But with the re-enforcements we have now in immediate prospect,
we are so encouraged we can return to our field and take up the
work with renewed courage and hope, knowing of the increased
number of friends of missions who support us with money and
prayerful sympathy.
A hope I often cherished in times of great weariness and
discouragement seems in part being realized. Many times in
Rangoon, when wearied to exhaustion with the work of two or three
men, I have gone up to the Sway Dagon Pagoda, and, looking upon
its gilded mass and the Burmans chanting their meaningless
laudations, I have longed for heralds enough to bring these people
the gospel instead of Buddhism, and to replace the pagodas of the
land with Christian Churches; longed for re-enforcements that came
not. Then I turned into the northeast corner of the pagoda area and
looked upon the graves of the British officers who fell in the war of
1852 while storming that pagoda. Then down the slope up which
that band of Anglo-Saxons charged, to the graves of soldiers who
were buried where they fell. My blood warmed with the thought that
these men gave their lives without a word of complaint for their
queen whom they loved, and the flag which they raised over this far-
distant land, to the immense benefit of the land of Burma. Then I
remembered that the world-wide empire of which this is a part had
been secured and maintained by men who, as these, had laid down
their lives for the flag they loved.
From this scene and its suggestions I turned away, encouraged
to hold my post till re-enforcements would come up for the
preaching of the gospel of the Son of God, who sent me to Burma.
Here was a very human kind of encouragement. Looking up the
shining pagoda shaft I saw a sprout of the peepul-tree, the sacred
tree of Buddhism, which grows anywhere on any surface where its
spores can find lodgment; which when neglected has torn to
fragments hundreds of pagodas, here springing from the great
pagoda two hundred feet from the ground. It had found an opening
through the gold leaf, or perhaps had been buried in the mortar with
which its surface had been plastered, and had sent its roots deep
into the brick mass of the pagoda; while its green branches grew in
a thriving cluster over the gilded sides. What did it matter that this
tree was two hundred feet from the ground, and had no moisture
save what its roots could extract from the dry bricks and its leaves
draw out of the air! This peepul-tree can thrive anywhere!
Beautiful symbolism! The gilded colossal pagoda represents the
lifeless system of hoary Buddhism. The growing young tree
represents the religion of Jesus Christ, filled with the life of the Son
of God. It will crumble Buddhism back to dust, as that tree, if
fostered, will destroy the pagoda, Buddhism’s most ornate symbol.
Looking on this scene, my heart took new courage, as under
Divinely-given cheer, to labor on for the salvation of the Buddhists
and other people of Burma.
When describing the pagoda and its surrounding, at Adams, New
York, I dwelt at some length on the graves of the English soldiers
there, and spoke of their courage and self-sacrifice. There was a
large congregation present, nearly all of whom were strangers to
me. At the close of the service I saw a little man start from the rear
of the church and make his way down the side aisle, then across the
church, and as he came he quickened his step; and grasping my
hand he exclaimed with trembling voice: “I tried to come to church