“A few of our missionaries have entered into the blood-covenant with Karen tribes; though most have been deterred, either from never having visited the ‘debatable land’ where the strong arm of British rule does not reach, or else, as in most instances, from a repugnance to the act by which the covenant is sealed. In one instance, at least, where a missionary did enter into covenant with one of these tribes, the agreement has been interpreted as covering not only his children, but one who was so happy as to marry his daughter. In an enforced absence of fifteen years from the scene of his early missionary labors nothing has been at once so touching and so painful to the writer, as the frequent messages and letters asking ‘When will you come back to _your people_?’ Yet, mine is only the inherited right above mentioned. “The blood-covenant gives even a foreigner every right which he would have, if born a member of the tribe. As an instance, the writer once shot a hawk in a Karen village, just as it was swooping down upon a chicken. He was surprised to find, an half-hour afterward, that his personal attendant, a straightforward Mountain Karen, had gone through the village and ‘collected’ a fat hen from each house. When remonstrated with, the mountaineer replied, ‘Why, Teacher, it is your right,--that is our custom,--you are one of us. These people wouldn’t understand it if I did not ask for a chicken from each house, when you killed the hawk.’ “In the wilder Karen regions, it is almost impossible to travel unless one is in blood-covenant with the chiefs, while on the other hand one is perfectly safe, if in that covenant. The disregard of this fact has cost valuable lives. When a stranger enters Karen territory, the chiefs order the paths closed. This is done by tying the long elephant grass across the paths. On reaching such a signal, the usual inquiry in the traveling party is, ‘Who is in blood-covenant with this tribe?’ If one is found, even among the lowest servants, his covenant covers the party, on the way, as far as to the principal village or hill fortress. The party goes into camp, and sends this man on as an ambassador. Usually, guides are sent back to conduct the party at once to the chief’s house. If no one is in covenant with the tribe, and the wisp of grass is broken and the party passes on, the lives of the trespassers are forfeited. A sudden attack in some defile, or a night surprise, scatters the party and drives the survivors back the way they came. It is said by the Karens that Mr. Cooper, the famous English explorer of China and Thibet, was killed ‘because he had broken the grass.’ A day’s delay for the blood-covenant would have saved his life, and given him time to complete his most important labors. The men who killed him would have been his devoted body-guard, ready and willing to give their lives in defence of his. If the Karen account of his death is true, it