“o oscar! this can be no penal settlement; it is a paradise, a perfect paradise of beauty!” was io’s delighted exclamation as, aided by her husband, she stepped on shore. imagination had pictured the andamans as some hot waste of sand, or some burning rock, fit abode for criminals driven forth from their fellow-men; but perhaps the whole earth holds no fairer spot, none more favoured by nature, than these beautiful eastern islands—“emeralds set in the ring of the sea.” there plants grow in the richest luxuriance; there verdure clothes the forest, and flowers spangle the earth. where the green waves gently lap the shore, corals of marvellous beauty may be seen through the transparent depths. well worthy of artist’s pencil or poet’s lay are the dreaded andaman isles.

oscar, rapt in admiration, gazed on the scene around him.

“strange—most wonderful!” burst from his lips. “adam was for one sin banished from paradise, and my sin, far more detestable than his, has brought me into another eden.”

“not your sin, beloved one, say not your sin!” exclaimed io; “rather your repentance, the brave sacrifice which you made in indeed plucking out the right eye.”

“and what gave me courage to make the sacrifice?” asked oscar, looking gratefully at his wife. “was it not my io’s brave words when, at the crisis of my life, she said, ‘do what you think is right’?”

the andaman islands are governed in a humane and liberal spirit. there is no dungeon there—no chains, unless it be in viper’s island, to which only the most desperate ruffians are transported to be kept under stricter ward. the chief commissioner has indeed the power of life or death, and soldiers to carry his orders into effect; but when the coldstreams arrived they found themselves under the sway of a wise and beneficent ruler. the commissioner received oscar with grave politeness, his wife with chivalrous courtesy.

“i am afraid, mr. coldstream,” said the commissioner, “that i must make no exception in your favour. our people here have small allotments of land, and are expected to cultivate them with their own hands.”

“i wish for no exception in my favour, sir,” was the convict’s reply; “i deserve none, for there is no one in these islands who has sinned so grievously against the laws of god and man as myself.”

to oscar coldstream his manual labour became a pleasure. no land was better cultivated than his; and he made his hut a bower of beauty, in which the bird of paradise was io.

but the principal labour of both the coldstreams was amongst the convicts of either sex. the english couple were earnest missionaries without the name. year by year souls were won for the master, and out of the chaos of misery and crime a little church of lowly believers gradually rose. oscar had no children. this was to him not a matter of regret, for he could not have endured to leave to his offspring a heritage of disgrace, the name of the sons of a felon. but the coldstreams were granted many spiritual children, and the ties formed in the andaman islands were to oscar and io so close and so dear, that even had a pardon come they would have declined leaving their place of exile, or rather their sphere of work. oscar was known amongst the people as the pir, or saint—a title which he always repudiated, but which clung to him still.

letters connected the coldstreams with the outer world, and not unfrequently the chief commissioner lent newspapers to read. oscar knew when a fair young queen ascended the throne which this worthy descendant of alfred still fills. he received from mark lawrence the glad news that after years of loneliness his home was to be brightened by the presence of a wife. the chaplain’s former disappointment had been in itself a blessing, for without it he would have been linked to one who would not have made him happy.

with one scene in the life of the coldstreams, about eight years after their arrival in the andaman islands, my little story concludes.

“there is a vessel in the offing, my oscar,” said io one morning; “shall we go down and see the arrivals?”

oscar was just putting the last touches to a beautiful water-colour picture which was to be a birthday present to io; but he rose at once, put down his brush, and prepared to accompany his wife.

“formerly,” observed oscar, “it was with sadness that we saw new-comers arriving; now hope counterbalances pity. we look upon prisoners coming to the andaman islands less as sinners to be punished than as souls that may be saved.”

“but these are not prisoners; they come in the commissioner’s yacht. there are nice white english faces,” exclaimed io joyfully, quickening her pace, “and one is a lady! o oscar, oscar!” she continued in the excitement of pleasure, “i am certain that yonder is mark lawrence, and she who leans on his arm must be his wife!”

oscar hurried on so fast at the word that io had to run to keep up with his pace. here was a great and unexpected pleasure indeed! in a few minutes the friends who had deemed that they were parted for ever as regards this world were greeting each other with cordial delight.

“you never thought—i never thought of my being appointed chaplain to the troops in the andaman islands!” cried mark, after having with pleasure and pride introduced his young wife. “why, coldstream, the climate of the place must suit you, for you look little changed after so many years of residence, only more strong and a little more sunburnt.” lawrence might have added, “and a great deal more happy,” for coldstream’s fine countenance now wore an expression of peace.

and io was blooming still, not a silver thread in the auburn hair, not a wrinkle of care on the white smooth brow. the water-lily had again opened its chalice to the sunshine, and was smiling in the light which came from heaven, and was reflected by very many objects around her.

that day was one of the happiest which the coldstreams had ever known. no stranger seeing the group that sat eagerly chatting over old days would have dreamed that the one gentleman was a chaplain, the other a convict. oscar himself was the only one to whose mind came the recollection of his great crime; in his heart of hearts was written, “jesus christ came to save sinners, of whom i am chief.”

a party to visit a spot of singular beauty was arranged for a later hour of the day. the distance was so short that in the evening even the ladies could walk.

“i have a double object in selecting palm-tree point,” observed coldstream: “i have just received notice that a karen is lying in a hut there with a broken leg. i have not seen him yet, for he is a recent arrival.”

“i could almost wish that it were our old friend ko thah byu,” said lawrence.

“one would hardly find him here,” rejoined coldstream.

in the softened light of a rich sunset the lawrences and coldstreams made their way to the beautiful spot. they found the karen, not in the hut, but stretched on a churpai under a tree. none of the visitors had ever seen the man before, but the fact of his being a karen awakened additional interest.

after kindly salutation, and making inquiries after the injury which the convict had received, coldstream, taking a seat on a mat, opened his karen bible. the ladies rested themselves luxuriously on a mossy bank garlanded with rare ferns.

“ah, that is the book which ko thah byu so loved!” observed the karen.

“did you know him?” asked oscar.

“i knew him well,” said the sufferer. “ko thah byu often came to our village to give the good tidings of great joy. if i had minded all that he said i should never have come to this place.”

“i must try to find out where he is,” observed lawrence, “and give him news of you.”

the convict shook his head sadly. “ko thah byu is where news cannot reach him,” said the karen. “our brother has gone to be with the lord. i was at his side when he died.”

the tidings were received with sorrow. how apt are we to grudge the victor his crown, the weary labourer his rest! we grieve to think that a familiar voice shall never again on earth proclaim god’s truth, though we believe that it is swelling the chorus of his praise in heaven.

inquiries elicited a few particulars of the last days of the first karen convert and apostle. ko thah byu had latterly been afflicted with painful sickness, and blindness had quenched the light of his piercing eyes. the evangelist had had to close his long itinerancies, and wander no more amongst the heathen. yet as long as ko thah byu could preach, he preached, bearing fruit even in old age. then, as a ripe sheaf meet for the master’s garner, the saint fell asleep amongst his own people, honoured, beloved, and lamented.

“of the karen apostle it may well be said,” observed the chaplain, “that he will have many stars in his crown.”

“may i, unworthy as i am, be reckoned amongst them!” said oscar coldstream with emotion. “i should, humanly speaking, never have known peace on earth or glory in heaven had i not been taught by the karen the force of the inspired words: blessed is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered.... i acknowledged my sin unto thee, and mine iniquity have i not hid. i said, i will confess my transgressions unto the lord; and thou forgavest the iniquity of my sin.”