Daughters of the Cross: or Woman's Mission (2024)

Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Charles Franks

and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team

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DAUGHTERS OF THE CROSS

OR,

WOMAN'S MISSION.

BY DANIEL C. EDDY.

"There are deeds which should not pass away,
And names that must not wither."

We have in this volume brought together the names of several of our mostdistinguished female heroines, who have toiled and suffered on heathensoil. They have been gathered from different denominations and sects, andform a galaxy of names as dear to the heart of Christianity as can be drawnfrom the records of earth.

The object is, to give a series of brief memoirs, in which the lives offaithful Christians shall be unfolded; impart instruction in reference tothe cause of missions; inspire the heart of the reader with Christian zeal;and do justice to the memory of those who deserve more honor than thefallen warrior and the titled senator.

Most of the subjects of these sketches are well known and wellbeloved—women whose deeds have been recorded in high places indenominational history; and we deem it no impropriety to take them down,unwind the peculiarity of sect, and weave these honored names in one sacredwreath, that we may dedicate it to all who love the cause of missions.

The wreath may wither and fall apart, but the flowers which compose it willnot die; these sacred names shall live with immortal freshness while in theworld is found a missionary church.

HARRIET NEWELL.

The Crusade.—Martin II.—Peter the Hermit.—Missionary Enterprise.
—Andover.—The young Men.—Congregational Association.—American
Board.—Harriet Atwood.—Bradford Academy.—Conversion.—Church in
Haverhill.—Death of her Father.—Samuel Newell.—Marriage.—Sailing.—The
Caravan.—Salem Harbor.—Calcutta,—Birth of the Babe,—Its Death.—Mrs.
Newell dies

ANN H. JUDSON.

Bradford.—Ann Hasseltine.—Harriet Atwood.—Conversion.—Communion.—Marries Mr. Judson.—Sails for Calcutta.—Serampore.—Changeof Views.—Baptism.—First Child.—First Conversion.—Trials andSuffering.—Judson's Imprisonment.—English Government.—Mrs. Judsondies.—Amherst.—The Hopia Tree

ELIZABETH HERVEY.

Park Street Church.—Ordination.—Charge.—The Corvo.—Church in
Hadley.—Sermon.—Labor.—Death

HARRIET B. STEWART.

Sandwich Islands.—Opakakia.—Sabbath Scene.—Stamford, Connecticut.
—Marriage.—Laihaina.—Death of Mrs. Stewart.—Church building at Waiakea

SARAH L. SMITH.

Syria.—Norwich, Connecticut.—John Robinson.—New Heart.—Mohegan
Indians.—Brig George.—Malta.—Beyroot.—The Mediterranean.—
Jerusalem.—Sickness.—Death.—Burial Service

ELEANOR MACOMBER.

Lake Pleasant.—Ojibwas.—Dong-Yahn.—Mr. Osgood.—Zuagaben
Mountains.—Karens.—Rev. Mr. Stephens.—Church planted.—The Close

SARAH D. COMSTOCK.

The Burman Empire.—Brookline.—Baldwin Place Church.—Mr. Wade.—Dr.
Wayland's Address.—Mrs. Sigourney.—The Cashmere.—Kyouk Phyoo.—Mr.
Kincaid.—Six Men for Arracan.—"O Jesus, I do this for thee."—Last
Illness.—Lowly Sepulchres

HENRIETTA SHUCK.

China.—Rev. Addison Hall.—Kilmarnock.—Virginia Revivals.—
Baptism.—Death of her Mother.—Marriage to Mr. Shuck.—Sea Voyage.—Ah
Loo.—Henrietta Layton.—Premonitions.—The End of Earth

SARAH B. JUDSON.

Alstead.—Dr. Bolles.—George D. Boardman.—Poem.—Discovery and subsequent
union.—Calcutta.—Sarah Ann.—Robbery.—George.—Death of
Sarah.—Ko Thah-byu.—Rebellion.—Boardman's Death.—Marriage to Mr.
Judson.—Poems.—Death.—Ex Governor Briggs's Speech

MARY E. VAN LENNEP.

Rev. Dr. Hawes.—Childhood's happy Home.—Familiarity with the
Bible.—Missionary Interest.—Sabbath Schools.—Seminary.—Dr.
Fitch.—Longfellow.—Nature.—Mr. Van Lennep.—The union.—The
Stamboul.—Smyrna.—The Dardanelles.—Constantinople.—Last Sickness.—Mr.
Goodell.—Protestant Graveyard.—The American Ambassador.—The Watch of the
Bosphorus.

HARRIET NEWELL, THE PROTO-MARTYR.

Several centuries ago, the idea of driving out of Jerusalem its infidelinhabitants was suggested to a mad ecclesiastic. A shorn and dehumanizedmonk of Picardy, who had performed many a journey to that fallen city, whohad been mocked and derided there as a follower of the Nazarene, whoseheart burned beneath the wrongs and indignities which had been so freelyheaped upon the head of himself and his countrymen, determined to arouse astorm which should send its lightnings to gleam along the streets, androll its deep thunder to shake the hills which in speechless majesty standaround the city of God.

Pope Martin II. entered into his daring scheme, convened a council ofbishops and priests, and gave the sanction of the church to the wildenterprise. This council Peter addressed, and, with all the eloquence ofa man inspired by a mighty project, depicted the wrongs and grievancesof those who yearly sought, for holy purposes, the sepulchre wherein theSavior of man reposed after his crucifixion. He was successful in inspiringthe people with his own wild enthusiasm. All Europe flew to arms; all ranksand conditions in life united in the pious work; youthful vigor and hoaryweakness stood side by side; the cross was worn upon the shoulder andcarried on banners; the watchword, "Deus Vult," burst from ten thousandlips; and the armies of Christendom precipitated themselves upon the holyland with the awful war cry, "God wills it," echoing from rank to rank.

In later times a mightier, nobler enterprise was originated, and the greatsystem of American missions commenced. The object was a grand one, andawfully important. It contemplated, not the subjection of a narrow kingdomalone, but the complete overthrow of the dark empire of sin; not theelevation of a human king, an earthly monarch, but the enthronement of aninsulted God, as the supreme object of human worship; not the possession ofthe damp, cold sepulchre in which Jesus reposed after his melancholy death,but the erection of his cross on every hillside, by every sea shore, invale and glen, in city and in solitude. It was a noble design, one full ofgrandeur and glory, as far surpassing the crusade of Peter the Hermit asthe noonday sun surpasses the dim star of evening. Its purpose was toobliterate the awful record of human sin, flash the rays of a divineillumination across a world of darkness, and send the electric thrill of aholy life throughout a universe of death.

At first, the missionary enterprise was looked upon as foolish and Utopian.Good men regarded it as utterly impracticable, and bad men condemnedand denounced it as selfish and mercenary. The Christian church had notlistened to the wail of a dying world as it echoed over land and ocean andsounded along our shores; she had not realized the great fact that everydarkened tribe constitutes a part of the universal brotherhood of man; herheart had not been touched by the spirit of the great commission, "Go yeinto all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature."

But the sun which ushered in the present century dawned upon a missionaryage and a missionary church. The tide of time has floated man down to aregion of light, and the high and holy obligations which rest upon theransomed of God are being recognized. The question is now asked, with deepand serious earnestness,—

"Shall we, whose souls are lighted
By wisdom from on high,
Shall we to man benighted
The lamp of life deny?"

And the answer has been given. The church has felt, realized, and enteredinto her obligation. By the cross she has stood, her heart beating withkindly sympathy, her cheeks bathed in tears, and her lips vocal withprayer. The Macedonian cry has been heard, and from every nave, and alcove,and aisle, and altar of the great temple of Christianity has come theresponse,—

"Waft, waft, ye winds, the story,
And you, ye waters, roll,
Till, like a sea of glory,
Light spreads from pole to pole."

In the early part of the year 1808 several young men, members of theDivinity School at Andover, became impressed with the importance of amission to the heathen world. They first looked on the subject at adistance, saw its dim and shadowy outlines, prayed that their visions of aconverted world might be realized, and wondered who would go forth thefirst heralds of salvation. Ere long the impression came that theywere the men; and in two years the impression had deepened into a solemnconviction, and they had determined on a life of labor, tears, andsacrifice.

In 1810 they made known their plans to an association of Congregationalministers assembled in Bradford. Although that body of holy men had manyfears and some doubts concerning the success of the enterprise, no attemptwas made to dampen the ardor of the young brethren who were resolved toundertake the vast work. Many of the aged men composing that associationthought they could discern in the fervor and zeal of these young apostlesof missions the inspiration of the Holy Ghost. However many were theirfears and doubts, they dared not, as they loved the cross, place a singleobstacle in the way of the accomplishment of such a lofty purpose; andwhen the question was asked by the sceptic, "Who is sufficient for thesethings?" the awful response, "The sufficiency is of God," came up from manyhearts.

This movement on the part of Messrs. Judson, Newell, Nott, and theirassociates, originated the American Board of Commissioners for ForeignMissions—an organization which has its mission stations in almost everypart of the world, and which is expending, annually, the sum of two hundredthousand dollars for the conversion of the heathen. The first missionariessent out were those above named, who, with two others, were ordained to thework in the Tabernacle Church, in Salem, on the 6th of February, 1812.The ordination scene is said to have been one of peculiar solemnity. Thespectacle was an unusual one, and a vast crowd collected together. Thespacious church, though filled to overflowing with excited and interestedpeople, was as silent as the chamber of death as instructions were givento the young men who were to bid adieu to home and country. On the 19th ofFebruary, a cold, severe day, the brig Caravan moved down the harbor ofSalem on an outward-bound voyage, bearing on her decks Messrs. Judson andNewell, with their wives, the others having sailed from Philadelphia forCalcutta the day previous. They went, not as the conqueror goes, withfire and sword, flowing banners and waving plumes, but as the heralds ofsalvation, having the gospel of life and peace to proclaim in the ears ofmen who were strangers to its glory. To portray the character of one ofthese devoted female missionaries, the wife of Samuel Newell, this sketchwill be devoted.

Harriet Atwood was born in the town of Haverhill, on the sloping banks ofthe winding Merrimack, on the 10th of October, 1793. She was the daughterof Moses Atwood, a merchant of that village, who was universally respectedand beloved. Though not rich, he was generous and benevolent; he was piouswithout affectation, and in his heart cherished a longing desire to dogood. Her mother, who yet lives, was a woman of strong religious principle,and well calculated to give right direction to the opening mind of herchild. Her piety, it is said, was of that kind which makes its impressionupon the heart and conscience, and leads the beholder to admire and love.She was a fit mother to train such a daughter for her holy mission to aworld in ruins, and, by her judicious advice and counsel, lead on her childto that high point of mental and moral advancement from whence she couldlook abroad upon a fallen race and pity human woe.

Throughout life Harriet Newell bore the marks, and carried the impressions,of childhood and youth, and her short but brilliant career was moulded andfashioned by her missionary-hearted mother.

In 1805 she entered upon a course of study at the Bradford Academy, andsoon distinguished herself as a quick and ready scholar. One of her fellowpupils remarks that "she seldom entered the recitation room unprepared. Sheseemed to take peculiar pains in doing things well; and though much ofher time was spent in reading, her standing in her class was always morethan respectable." Though but a child at this time, she kept a diary whichwould have done no discredit to a person of mature years, in which sherecorded the exercises of her own mind and the progress which she made inmental discipline. The entries made in that diary give us an idea of thesuperiority of her mind and the excellency of her heart.

While at Bradford, her heart was renewed by the grace of God. During arevival which performed its holy work among the members of the school, shewas led to view herself as a sinner against the Almighty. The awful factthat she must be born again uttered its solemn admonition. Though not sodeeply convicted as are some persons, she felt the terrible necessity ofregeneration. Reason, conscience, and Scripture proclaimed the same truth;and after struggling against her better feelings for a while, she yieldedherself in sweet submission to the will of God. The account which she givesof her own exercises of mind, while in this condition, furnishes us with aview of her real character. Her religious experience was full of feelingsand acts characteristic of herself; and we may form our opinion of herdisposition and cast of mind from the peculiarity of her religiousemotions. In extreme youth she was fond of gayety and mirth, and spent muchtime in dancing. According to her own account, she had but little remorseof conscience for her thoughtless course. The fact that such amusem*ntswere sinful, as well as dangerous, had never been impressed upon her mind.She deemed them consistent with the highest state of moral and religiousenjoyment, and pursued the miserable phantom of human, earthly pleasure,until aroused by the Spirit and made sensible of sin.

From early youth she had been accustomed to revere and study the word ofGod and pray to her Father in heaven for the things which she needed. Herpious parents had impressed the lessons of virtue on her young heart, andshe was accustomed, as she arose in the morning and rested her head atnight, to commend the keeping of her body and soul to the care of anoverruling, superintending Providence; but after commencing the practiceof dancing, and beginning to attend schools where this vain practice waslearned, she neglected the Bible, and thought but little of the place ofprayer. She found, after retiring at evening from the gay and fascinatingscenes of the dancing room, that prayer and meditation were dull andtedious exercises, and concluded to give them up. Closing the Bible, shelaid it aside, and let it gather dust upon the shelf, while vain andtrifling volumes engaged her attention. The door of her closet was closed,and she entered it not; and all thoughts of God were banished from hermind, while the world employed all her time. But God, who orders allthings, was about to perform on her heart a work of mercy and grace. Shewas a chosen vessel to bear the name of Jesus to a land of darkness anddespair.

When about thirteen years of age, she was sent by her parents to theAcademy at Bradford, to receive a systematic course of instruction. Shortlyafter this a revival of religion commenced, and spread through the school,and many were converted. The attention of Miss Atwood was arrested andturned from vanity. "Must I be born again?" was the searching questionwhich she put to her own heart. The answer came to her, and she began toseek the Savior. She seems not to have had deep conviction; her mind,though agitated, was not overwhelmed, and the subject was contemplatedcalmly. At length, with the melancholy fact that she was a sinner, andendless condemnation before her, she was pointed to the cross of Christ.The view was effectual. Jesus appeared the Savior of sinners, of whom shewas one, and faith gladly laid hold on him as the way of escape from anawful death. A wonderful change took place: she lost her love of folly andsin; prayer was sweet again; the Bible was drawn from its resting-place andperused with new pleasure; from both Bible and closet she derived pleasuresuch as she had never before experienced; and she passed from a state ofnature to a state of grace.

Writing to her friends while in this mood of mind, she is willing to admitthat she has not had such an overwhelming view of the nature of sin as somehave, nor of the ecstatic joy which some experience on conversion; but shehad what was as good—a calm hope in the merits of a crucified Savior, ahigh estimate of religion and religious privileges, and an utter contemptfor the pleasures and vanities of the world. She had a holy love for allthings good, and was able to

"Read her title clear
To mansions in the sky."

At the time when Miss Atwood found this sweet and precious hope, the churchin Haverhill was in a low and languishing condition, disturbed by internaldivisions, and to a great extent destitute of the influences of the HolySpirit. In consequence of this state of the church she did not uniteherself with it, and at that time made no open profession of religion. Thisneglect of a plain and obvious duty brought darkness upon her mind, andshrouded her soul in gloom. God withdrew his presence from his wayward anddisobedient child, and left her in sadness: she had refused to confess herMaster openly and publicly in the midst of trials and discouragements; and,grieved and wounded by her conduct, he turned from her, and hid his face.Then was she in the condition of the man who took into his own house sevenspirits more wicked than himself. There was no rest for her soul, no relieffor her anguished spirit. She realized how bitter a thing it is to departfrom the counsel of her Maker, and found momentary comfort only in theforgetfulness of what she had enjoyed. At this period conscience was awake,and to drown its voice she plunged into sin, sought pleasure in all thedepartments of worldly intercourse, and thought as little as possible ofGod and sacred things. In this attempt to drive away serious inquiries shesucceeded, and became as thoughtless as before her conversion. Again wasthe Bible laid aside, and the sickly novel and the wild romance substitutedin its place. The closet was neglected, and she loved not to retire andcommune with God. The flame of piety in her soul went out, and herheart was dark and sad; she fearfully realized the truth of the divinedeclaration, "The way of the transgressor is hard." In her diary she tellsof sleepless nights and anxious days; of the Savior wounded by her whom hedied to save; of the Spirit grieved, and almost quenched, yet lingeringaround her, now reproving, now commanding, now pleading; at one timeholding up the terrors of a broken law, and then whispering in tones assweet and gentle as Calvary; of conscience holding up a mirror in whichshe might discern the likeness of herself and contemplate her real moralcharacter. Thoughts of God and holiness, of Christ and Calvary, made hergloomy and unhappy; and she entered the winding path of sin, that thecelestial light might not burst upon her. Like other sinners, she soughthappiness by forgetting what she was doing, and by an entire withdrawalfrom all scenes which could awaken in her soul emotions of contrition andrepentance.

On the 28th of June, 1809, Miss Atwood listened to a discourse, which wasthe instrument, in the hands of God, of again prostrating her at the footof the cross. Her carnal security gave way; her sins, her broken vows andpledges, rose up before her in startling numbers; her guilt hung over herlike a dark mantle; she felt the awful pangs of remorse, and was induced toreturn to that kind and compassionate Savior who had at first forgiven allher faults. Peace was restored; the smile of God returned; and the bleedingheart, torn and wounded by sin, had rest.

While in her fifteenth year, the subject of this sketch was called upon topart with her father. What influence this sad event had upon her mind ishardly known; but that it was an occasion of deep and thrilling anguishcannot be doubted. Smarting under the hand of Providence, she writesletters to several of her friends, which abound in words of holy and piousresignation. The manner in which her sire departed, his calm exit from thesorrows of the flesh, served to give her a more lofty idea of the power offaith to sustain its subject in the hour of death. Though he had left ninefatherless children and a broken-hearted widow, there was to Harriet amelancholy pleasure in the idea that he had burst off the fetters of clayand ascended to the skies. Though on earth deprived of his companionship,his counsels, and his guidance, she looked forward to a meeting whereparting scenes will not be found, and where the farewell word will never bespoken.

"There is a world above,
Where parting is unknown,
A long eternity of love,
Formed for the good alone;
And faith beholds the dying here
Translated to that glorious sphere."

Nor had she a single doubt that her father had reached that world. She knewthe sincerity, piety, and devotion of his life, and the sweet calmness ofhis death. His coffin, his shroud, his grave, his pale form were reposingin lonely silence beneath the bosom of the earth; but the spirit haddeparted on its journey of ages, and she doubted not its perfect felicity.As often as she repaired to the spot where he was interred, and kneeled byhis tomb and breathed forth her humble supplications, she found the sweetassurance that beyond the grave she would see her earthly parent, and livewith him forever. Though divided by the realms of space, faith carried heronward to the scenes of eternity and upward to the joys of heaven; andthough she roamed on earth, shedding many a tear of sorrow, her spirit heldcommunion with the spirit of her departed sire.

"While her silent steps were straying
Lonely through night's deepening shade,
Glory's brightest beams were playing
Bound the happy Christian's head."

In October, 1810, an event occurred which gave direction to the whole lifeof Harriet Atwood. She became acquainted with Samuel Newell, one of theenthusiastic apostles of missions. He made her familiar with his plans andpurposes, and asked her to accompany him as his colaborer and companion.Long had she prayed that she might be a source of good to herfellow-creatures; long had she labored to accomplish something for Godand his holy cause; but the idea of leaving mother and friends, home andkindred, and going forth to preach salvation and tell of Jesus in wildand barbarous climes, was new and strange. To the whole matter she gave acareful and prayerful consideration. She divested the great subject asfar as possible from all romantic drapery, and looked upon it in its truelight. For a while her mind was in a state of perplexing doubt and fear,and the thought of leaving her own land was terrible. While considering theconflict in her mind, we should remember that the cause of missions wasin its infancy; that no one had ever gone forth from our shores to preachsalvation by grace in heathen countries; that those who were agitatingthe subject were branded as fanatics, and the cause itself was subject tounjust suspicions and contempt; consequently the subject had an importanceand awfulness which it does not now possess. The way has been broken, andall good men acknowledge that the heroism of the missionary woman is grandand sublime. The decision made by Harriet Atwood was different from thatmade by others in after years, inasmuch as she had no example, no pattern.She realized that the advice of friends, biased as it was by prejudice andaffection, could not be relied upon; and, driven to the throne of God, shewrestled there until her course of action was decided and her mind fixedintently upon the great work before her. Her resolution to go to India wasassailed on every side. Those to whom she had been accustomed to look foradvice and counsel, friends on whose judgment she had relied, shook theirheads and gave decided tokens of disapprobation. But the question wasfinally settled. On one side were the gay world, her young associates,her kind relatives, her own care and comfort. On the other side stood ableeding Savior and a dying world. To the question, "Lord, what wilt thouhave me to do?" she heard the response, "Go work to-day in my vineyard;"and when she looked forth upon the harvest, white for the reaper's hand,she hesitated not to consecrate on the altar of her God her services, hertime, her life.

When this decision was once made, she conferred not with flesh and blood.Her reply was given to Mr. Newell in firm, decided language; and up tothe hour when her spirit took its flight from earth to heaven, we haveno evidence that she had one single regret that she had chosen a life ofself-sacrifice. Her language was,—

"Through floods and flames, if Jesus lead,
I'll follow where he goes."

Through duties and trials, through floods and flames, she passed, shrinkingfrom no danger and shunning no sacrifice. Conscious of right, she quailednot before the tears of friends and the scorn of foes; but alike in dutyand in danger followed the footsteps of her Savior, until her wasting bodywas decomposed and her spirit taken up to dwell with the just men madeperfect.

To a friend in Beverly she writes as follows: "How can I go and leave thosewho have done so much for me, and who will be so sorry for my loss? How canI leave my mother here while oceans roll between us? How can I go withbut little prospect of return? And how can I stay? We are under solemnobligation to labor for God; and I must go to India at any sacrifice. I owesomething to my perishing fellow-men; I owe something to my Savior. He weptfor men—he shed tears over Jerusalem.

'Did Christ o'er sinners weep?
And shall our cheeks be dry?'"

At this time her letters to Mr. Newell breathe forth the most devotedmissionary spirit, and exhibit her firm determination to do her highestduty and discharge her great mission at any sacrifice—at the cost ofseparation, tears, and death. And required it, think you, no effort tobring her mind into this godlike state? Cost it no toil to discipline theheart to such sore trials? Most certainly it demanded toil and effort; andmany a visit to the cross was made, and many a view of the bleeding Saviorobtained, ere she could turn her back on home and all that the young heartholds dear in this life, to labor and die far away over the rolling sea.

And we doubt if any other motive can be found so powerful as this to movethe Christian heart to obedience. There is an inexpressible efficacy inthe cross to bring all the various opposing elements into subjection, andproduce order in the place of discord and opposition. With the cross theearly disciples went forth, not as the crusaders went, with the sacredsymbol on banners, and badges, and weapons, but wearing the spirit ofthe cross like a garment, having its doctrines engraven on the heart, andinspired and quickened into life by its mysterious energy. It was the crossthat induced the early disciples to brave danger and death to spread abroadthe new faith. The martyr at the stake, amid the curling flames, wassupported by it; the exile from home, banished to rude and savage wilds,loved it; the prisoner in his chains, confined and scourged, tortured andbleeding, turned to it, and found satisfaction for all his wrongs; thelaborer for God, amid wild men who had no sympathy for his vocation,carried the cross, and fainted not in his anxious toil.

And such was the effect of the cross on the mind of Mrs. Newell. It senther forth in all the love of womanhood, and sustained her until the closeof life, It produced on her the impression that it made upon the dreamerBunyan, who saw it as he was escaping from the city of destruction. He cameto it with a heavy heart and a burdened soul; but as he saw it the burdenfell and rolled into the sepulchre, and his load was gone. He gazed withrapture and delight; and the tears burst forth and flowed down his cheeks,and joy and holy satisfaction filled his soul.

Here is the great moving motive, one which is above all others, one that ismore effective than all others; and by this our heroine was animated andcheered in her missionary work.

Up to the time of her departure for India, the mind of Miss Atwoodcontinued to be exercised with contending feelings. At one time thesacrifice, the toil, the labor, and self-denial of a missionary life wouldrise up before her. She would feel how great the trial must be to leaveall the endeared scenes of youth and childhood, and go forth to toil, andperhaps die, among strangers in a strange land. Dark visions would oftenflit before her; and she felt how terrible it must be to sicken and expireon shores where no mother's kind hand could lift her anguished head norsmooth her fevered pillow. But at other times her spirit soared above thetoil and sorrow, and dwelt with rapture upon the bliss, of seeing some ofthe poor, degraded heathen females converted to Christ. The glory of thegreat enterprise presented itself; and she realized the blessedness ofthose who leave father and mother, brother and sister, houses and land, forthe promotion of the kingdom of Christ. From these various strugglesshe came forth purified, dead to the world, and alive unto Christ. Anysacrifice she was willing to make, any toil endure. It was her meatand drink to do the will of God and accomplish his work. After a fullinvestigation of all the privations and sacrifices of a missionary life,after a solemn and prayerful estimate of all that was to be left behind andall that would be gained, she formed her opinion and decided to go forth. Afeeble woman, just out of childhood, she linked her fate with an unpopularand scorned enterprise, and cast in her lot with the dark-browed daughtersof India.

We have seen grand enterprises commenced and carried on; we have seen ourfellow-men gathering imperishable laurels; but never before did the worldwitness so grand a spectacle, with so high an object to be accomplishedby mortals, as was given in the departure of Harriet Newell to teach thelessons of Jesus in distant lands. We consider the career of Napoleon aglorious one. We cannot look upon his successful marches and battles,however much we disapprove his course, without something of admirationmingled with our abhorrence. There was a gorgeous glory which gatheredaround the character of that emperor of blood which hides his errors anddazzles the eyes of the beholder. But the true glory which gathered overthat little band of missionaries, as they left the snow-covered, iceboundcoast of America, to find homes and graves in distant India, far outshinesall the glitter of pomp and imperial splendor which ever shed its rays uponthe brilliant successes of the monarch of France, the conqueror of Europe.

True, they went forth alone. No weeping church followed them to the waterside; no crowded shore sent up its wail, or echoed forth the ferventprayer; but in the homes of the people, in the heart of God, these holy menand women were remembered. Had that beautiful hymn been composed for them,it could not have been more appropriate; and as they stood upon the deckof the wave-washed Caravan, it must have been the sentiments of all theirhearts.

"Scenes of sacred grace and pleasure,
Holy days and Sabbath bell,
Richest, brightest, sweetest treasure,
Can I say a last farewell?
Can I leave you,
Far in distant lands to dwell?

Yes, I hasten from you gladly—
From the scenes I loved so well;
Far away, ye billows, bear me;
Lovely, native land, farewell!
Pleased I leave thee,
Far in heathen lands to dwell.

In the desert let me labor;
On the mountain let me tell
How he died—the blessed Savior—
To redeem a world from hell;
Let me hasten
Far in heathen lands to dwell."

Miss Atwood was united in marriage to Mr. Newell on the 9th of February,1812; and on the 19th the Caravan set sail, as before stated. The voyageto Calcutta, though attended with many things to render it unpleasant to afeeble American woman, was not a severe one. The weather most of the timewas pleasant; and only occasionally did the waves sweep across the decks ofthe vessel, or flow through the windows into the cabin. Mrs. Newell spenther time in writing letters to her American friends and preparing herselffor her missionary work. She now had leisure to examine her own heart anddescend into the hidden mysteries of her soul; she had ample space to viewthe past and form plans for the future; she could try her motives by theunerring word of God, and, by humble prayer and careful meditation, beenabled to acquire strength which should prove equal to her trials. Thecabin of a wave-tossed vessel, the loneliness of a voyage across thedeep-green ocean, a separation from earth's homes and earth's hearts,were all calculated to lift up the pious mind, and centre the soul's bestaffections upon pure and worthy objects. Whatever of care and sorrow shemight have had, however much or however little of anxiety might have filledher bosom, such circ*mstances were sufficient to bring her faith to themost severe test.

The voyage must have been severe but healthy discipline, and doubtless fromit was learned many a lesson of grace and duty. As the snow-covered hillsof her own dear home disappeared; as the tall chimney at the entrance ofthe harbor, from which the nightly flame burned forth a beacon to themariner to guide him amid the storm, was lost in the distance; as the firstnight came on and darkness gathered over the wide waste of waters; as deepshadows fell upon the form of the plunging ship,—the missionary causemust have presented itself in a new light, and, to some extent, have beenclothed with sombre hues. And as time rolled on and the distance from homeincreased, that sacred call of God, that holy mission on which she wasemployed, must have appealed more strongly to the Christ-like heart of ourmissionary sister. The vessel encountered storm and tempest, the usualinconveniences of a sea voyage were endured, and danger in a thousandthreatening forms appeared; but the hand which formed the channels of thesea preserved his servants, and amid storm and darkness guided the vesselwhich bore them to homes and graves in the dark places of the earth.

On her passage, Mrs. Newell kept an interesting journal, not only of herown feelings, but also of the incidents that rendered the voyage pleasantor painful and checkered it with evil or good. And such incidents there arealways. When on the ocean, far from land, for the first time, the dullestand most stupid mind cannot fail of being aroused to new and awfulemotions. Man learns of God at such an hour, and finds new proof of hisgrandeur and glory in every dashing wave and every whistling blast. Withbut a single inch between him and a watery death, he gazes from his narrowdeck upon the boundless expanse of tossing, foam-crested billows; while, asfar as his eye can stretch, not a foot of land appears. His vessel may beon fire, she may fill with water, she may be riven by lightning; but thereis no friendly sail to which wrecked man may fly and be safe. His ship willfounder in mid ocean, while not a single form appears to lend the helpinghand, and not an eye is seen flowing with tears of pity; nothing is heardbut the moan of ocean; nothing is seen but the sweeping surge, as it passeson, leaving no track of the submerged vessel.

Confined in towns and cities, enclosed in walls of stone and brick, chainedto the wheel of custom, the soul of man becomes contracted and dwarfed. Allaround are monuments of human skill, and every thing as little as the humanmind. But when he steps beyond the crowds of life and embarks on thebosom of the ocean, he begins to see Divinity in its most awful forms. Herealizes the insignificance of the creature and the majesty of the almightyMaker.

So felt Mrs. Newell, as she stood upon the deck of her vessel and gazedupon the wonders of the deep. Each wave, as it dashed against the sides ofthe brig or rolled across her decks, seemed impressed by the hand of God;and in these scenes she realized, more than ever before, the grandeur andglory of Jehovah. She saw him mirrored out in the starry canopy above herhead, and in the liquid mountains which lifted up their forms, and anonsunk into peaceful rest beneath her feet.

On the 17th of June the Caravan reached Calcutta and anchored in theharbor. During the passage along the river the vessel was hailed byboatloads of naked natives, who brought on board cocoa nuts, bananas, anddates in great profusion; while others were seen on the banks reposing inthe sun, or bathing in the waters of the Ganges, or diving beneath thesurface for the shellfish which are found there; while beyond, the countrywas seen in all the beauty of verdure and delight, as ever and anon theHindoo cottage and the white pagoda reared themselves amid the trees whichgrew upon the shoreside.

On the arrival of the missionaries at Calcutta, they repaired to theresidence of Dr. Carey, where they found Mr. Marshman and Mr. Ward, all ofwhom were connected with the English Baptist mission station at Serampore.By invitation of Dr. Carey they visited the station, and were treated withthe greatest kindness. But their hopes of usefulness were destined to beblasted. The East India Company was opposed to all attempts to Christianizethe natives, and threw all their influence against the divine cause ofmissions. As soon as the government became apprised of the object of Mr.Newell and his associates, orders were issued for them to leave thecountry immediately. After a vast deal of parleying with the civil powers,permission was obtained to reside at the Isle of France; and on the 4th ofAugust, 1812, Mr. and Mrs. Newell took passage on board the Gillespiefor that place. Sorrow and distress now began to roll upon them in deep,sweeping waves. The crew of the vessel were profane and irreligious, theweather boisterous and unpleasant; while the spirits of the missionariesthemselves were at a low ebb. For some time no progress was made, and thefrown of Providence seemed to rest upon them. What purpose God had in viewin surrounding them with such trials, they knew not; but with humble faithin all his allotments they bore submissively, but sadly, this new trial oftheir devotion. The delicate state of Mrs. Newell's health rendered theirsorrows doubly annoying to her sensitive and refined mind. She shrunkfrom a contact with the rude beings around her, and in the society ofher husband alone found enjoyment; and even this was not free frominterruption. The morning and evening prayer was disturbed by the profanejest or the blasphemous ribaldry of God-hating men, who viewed ourmissionaries as deluded fanatics, justly deserving the contempt of all.Even the respect due to the weaker sex was not wholly observed; and thepious woman was often compelled to listen to expressions which would havebrought a blush to the cheek of the strong man. Sickness and sorrow foundbut little sympathy; and the days seemed long and tedious, even to one whohad not learned to complain of the wise discipline of a Father's hand.

While on this voyage, about three weeks before their arrival at the placeof destination, she gave birth to a daughter, and became a mother. Thesweet infant lived but five days; "blushed into life and died." The daybefore its death, the rite of the church, by which the little stranger intothis cold world was given to God, was performed. They called her by themother's name, and watched over her until she breathed her last breath uponher mother's bosom, and then sunk the form into the cold waters of thedeep. As the corpse was lowered down over the side of the vessel, holyvoices sung the sweet and tender hymn,—

"So fades the lovely, blooming flower,
Frail, smiling solace of an hour;
So soon our transient comforts fly,
And pleasures only bloom to die."

Soon after the death of her babe, Mrs. Newell discovered symptoms of themalady which soon carried her to an untimely grave. From the first, she hadno hope of recovery. Several of her friends had died of the same disease;and when it fastened itself upon her system, she knew that her time hadcome. The slow, wasting consumption was on her frame, and her dayswere nearly run out. But the approach of death she viewed with perfectcomposure. Though far from home, far from all the endeared scenes of youth,from the roof which sheltered her in infancy, from the mother whose gentlehand guided her up to womanhood, she was tranquil. Death was only a darkshadow, which retreated before her as she advanced, and left her standingin the light of a cloudless day.

While on her dying pillow she read through the book of Job, and derivedfrom its hallowed counsels much divine support and comfort. Whilecontemplating the sufferings of that godly man, her own trials dwindledaway, and she lost sight of her own anguish in the deeper woes, of another.Often did she ask, as she remembered what others had endured and thoughtwhat trials some had experienced,—

"Shall I be carried to the skies
On flowery beds of ease,
While others fought to win the prize,
And sailed through bloody seas?"

Sometimes she wondered why she should be thus early taken away. She hadleft home and friends to labor for God in a heathen land; and why at thevery onset he should call her to the grave, she could not understand. Thegreat desire of her heart was to be the humble instrument in the conversionof sinners. She wished to win souls to Christ—to turn the attention of thedying heathen to the saving cross. Hence, when she found that, ere her workhad fairly commenced, she was to be summoned away to her reward, torn fromthe arms of her husband, and removed beyond the province of toil, shefailed to read the purpose of her Maker. All was gloom, and in calmsubmission she bowed her head to the coming storm. What was dark now shehoped to understand when the secrets of all hearts are known, and trustedthat God was able to glorify himself as much in her death as in her life.

During her sickness she gave expression to the feelings of her heart, andproved to all around her that death had lost dominion over her; that thegrave had secured no victory; and when she met the terrors of one and thesilence of the other, it was as the conqueror meets his smitten foe. Herlast words were, "How long, O Lord, how long?" and with this sentence onher lips she passed away.

Mrs. Newell died on Monday, the 30th of November, 1812, at the Isle ofFrance, leaving her husband to labor alone for the conversion of theheathen. After the death of his wife Mr. Newell removed to Ceylon, and fromthence to Bombay, where, after laboring a few years and doing his Master'swork in tears and sorrow, he went down to his grave on the 17th of May,1821.

The scene now closes. We have followed a devoted servant of Christ fromyouth to womanhood—from early childhood to an early grave. It is pleasantto contemplate such an example, to shed tears of gratitude over such atomb. The name we pronounce deserves to be recorded in a more conspicuousplace in the book of fame than any name which has gathered gory laurels onthe wet field of carnage; she deserves a higher monument than rises overthe resting-place of earth's proudest conqueror—a monument not of marble,nor of brass, nor of gold, but one which shall lift its summit until a haloof eternal light shall gather about it and gild it with the beams ofglory. And such a monument she has. When the clouds and mists of earth aredissipated we shall see it, sinking its base deep as the darkness of aworld of heathenism, and lifting its summit high as the throne of God.

Harriet Newell was the great proto-martyr of American missions. She fellwounded by death in the very vestibule of the sacred cause. Her memorybelongs not to the body of men who sent her forth, not to the denominationto whose creed she had subscribed, but to the church—to the cause ofmissions. With the torch of Truth in her hand she led the way down into avalley of darkness, through which many have followed. Her work was short,her toil soon ended; but she fell, cheering, by her dying words and herhigh example, the missionaries of all coming time. She was the first, butnot the only martyr. Heathen lands are dotted over with the graves offallen Christians; missionary women sleep on almost every shore; and thebones of some are whitening in the fathomless depths of the ocean.

Never will the influence of the devoted woman whose life and death are hereportrayed be estimated properly until the light of an eternal day shallshine on all the actions of men. We are to measure her glory, not by whatshe suffered, for others have suffered more than she did. But we mustremember that she went out when the missionary enterprise was in itsinfancy—when even the best of men looked upon it with suspicion. The tideof opposition she dared to stem; and with no example, no predecessor fromAmerican shores, she went out to rend the veil of darkness which gatheredover all the nations of the East.

Things have changed since then. Our missionaries go forth with the approvalof all the good; and the odium which once attended such a life is sweptaway. It is to some extent a popular thing to be a missionary, although thework is still one of hardship and suffering. It is this fact which gatherssuch a splendor around the name of Harriet Newell, and invests her short,eventful life with such a charm. She went when no foot had trodden outthe path, and was the first American missionary ever called to an eternalreward. While she slumbers in her grave, her name is mentioned withaffection by a missionary church. And thus it should be. She has set us aglorious example; she has set an example to the church in every land andage; and her name will be mingled with the loved ones who are falling yearby year; and if, when the glad millennium comes and the earth is convertedto God, some crowns brighter than others shall be seen amid the throng ofthe ransomed, one of those crowns will be found upon the head of HARRIETNEWELL.

ANN H. JUDSON, OF BURMAH.

Notoriety is one thing, and true glory is quite another thing. Many personshave become notorious around whose lives no true glory or dignity hasappeared; and many men have been honorable in the highest sense who havelived unknown to fame, and unheard of beyond a narrow boundary.

The world's estimate of glory is a false one. It attaches too muchimportance to physical force, to noisy pomp, to the glitter and show ofconquest, and gives too little honor to the silent but majestic movementsof moral heroes.

Had any body of men labored long and suffered much to save poor human lifeand draw from burning dwelling or sinking wreck some fellow-man, theirdeeds would be mentioned in every circle; humane societies would award themtokens of distinction and approbation; and they would be deemed worthy ofexalted honor. Nor would it be wrong thus to give them praise. The man whorisks his life to save another deserves a higher, prouder monument thanever lifted itself above the tombs of fallen warriors who on the gory fieldhave slaughtered their thousands.

Nor will the deserved approbation of the great and good of earth long bewithheld from the heralds of salvation on heathen shores. The majestyof the missionary enterprise is beginning to develop itself; success iscrowning the toil of years; and heathendom is assuming a new aspect. Underthe faithful labors of self-denying men, the wilderness is beginning toblossom as the rose. Here and there, amid the sands of the wide desert onceparched by sin and consumed by the fiery blaze of heathenish cruelty,the plants of grace are beginning to appear, and Christian churches arespringing up to spread themselves like green vines upon the broken ruins ofdemolished idols.

It is too late now in the world's history, too late in the progressof thought, to vindicate the course pursued by the two pioneer femalemissionaries. When the Caravan sailed down the harbor of the "City ofPeace," there were enough to curl the lip and point the finger of scorn.The devoted messengers of Jesus were charged with indelicacy, with a falseambition, with a spirit of romance and adventure, with a desire forease and gain. As time rolled on, all these charges were withdrawn; thecharacters, views, and feelings of these heroic women were raised abovesuspicion, and now they are enveloped in a flood of glory.

"They left not home to cross the briny sea
With the proud conqueror's ambitious aim,
To wrong the guiltless, to enslave the free,
And win a bloodstained wreath of dreadful fame
By deeds unworthy of the Christian name."

Their errand was to carry mercy to the perishing and hope to thedespairing; and in the name of their great Master they executed their highcommission. Depending alone on God, and inspired by his grace, they laboredon, amid all the doubts and sneers of others, until their holy lives andcorrect deportment challenged the approbation of the most sceptical,—untilGod honored their work by great success,—until men, hardened men, began toyield.

"And by degrees the blesséd fruits were seen
In many a contrite and converted heart,
Fruits which might cause unbidden tears to start
From eyes unused to weep; because they told
Faith was their polar star, and God's word their guide."

And future ages will honor them. When the names of Mary and Elizabeth,of Joan of Arc with her wild enthusiasm, of De Staël and her literarycontemporaries, have all been lost, these will live as fresh as ever.

Ann H. Judson was born at Bradford, December 22, 1789. She was the daughterof John and Rebecca Hasseltine, worthy inhabitants of that pleasantvillage. Her childhood was passed within sight of the home which containedthe friends, and around which clustered the employments and pursuits, ofHarriet Newell. With only a narrow river rolling between them, these twodevoted servants of God passed through the period of youth, little thinkinghow their names and fortunes were to be linked together in the holy causeof human good. Like her beloved associate, Miss Hasseltine was early inlife a pupil at Bradford Academy, and made commendable progress in herstudies. There she was beloved by all. The teachers regarded her as anindustrious, dutiful, and talented scholar; her associates looked upon heras a sincere, openhearted, cheerful companion. Unlike Mrs. Newell, who wassedate and grave, exhibiting a seriousness almost beyond her years, MissHasseltine was ardent, gay, and active. She loved amusem*nt and pleasure,and was found seeking enjoyment in all the avenues of virtuous life. One ofher schoolmates, speaking of her, says, "Where Ann is, no one can begloomy or unhappy. Her cheerful countenance, her sweet smile, her happydisposition, her keen wit, her lively conduct, never rude nor boisterous,will dispel the shades of care and hang the smiles of summer upon thesorrows of the coldest heart." Her animation gave life to all around her,and made her, at school, an unusual favorite; at home, the joy of herfather's dwelling. It was probably this cheerfulness of her naturaldisposition which in after years enabled her to endure such protractedsufferings, and, by the side of her missionary husband, smile amid clankingfetters and gloomy dungeons. She loved to look upon the bright side ofevery picture, and seldom spent an hour in tears over any imaginary sorrow.On the front of evils she generally discerned signs of good; and often,while others were in sorrow, her heart was glad. Her sedate parents lookedupon these exhibitions of cheerful disposition with some feelings ofregret, and often chided their child for what they deemed an uneasy andrestless spirit, little thinking that this very cheerfulness was to sustainher under many a trial which would have bowed others to the earth withcrushed and broken spirits. God seemed to have adapted her to the veryposition in which he designed to place her; and her whole after career gaveevidence of the wisdom of the divine arrangement. Had she been of differentmould, she would have sunk ere half her work was done, ere half her toilswere over.

While at Bradford Academy, Miss Hasseltine became a subject of renewinggrace. Her own account of her conversion, found in her published memoir andelsewhere, is of the deepest and most thrilling interest to every piousheart. During the first sixteen years of her life, she, according to herown statement, had few convictions. She had been taught that she must bemoral and virtuous, and in this way avoid suffering and secure peace ofconscience. The awful necessity of being "born again" did not press itselfupon her attention. Light and vain amusem*nts engrossed much of her time,and employed many hours which should have been given to God and thepractice of holiness. The prayers which she learned in youth were nowforgotten, her Bible neglected, and her mind given up to vain and sinfulpleasure. She did not realize that she was immortal; that she was atraveller to a long and unknown eternity; but the present hour, the presentmoment, received all her care and engrossed all her attention. From thisstate she was aroused by seeing in a little volume which she took up toread on Sabbath morning, just before going to the house of God, this solemnsentence: "She that liveth in pleasure is dead while she liveth." The wordssunk deep into her thoughtless heart. In vain she strove to banish them;but they would return upon her memory, and linger there with tormentingobstinacy. Vain was it that she mingled in scenes of gayety and mirth;vainly did she become "the gayest of the gay." The conviction becamestronger, as each week rolled away, that she was a lost sinner. Under theinfluence of divine truth she continued to become more deeply impressedwith the importance of giving her heart to God and being a new creature.She herself says, "I lost all relish for amusem*nts; felt melancholy anddejected; and the solemn truth that I must obtain a new heart, or perishforever, lay with weight upon my mind." At length her feelings-became sooverpowering that she could not confine them within her own bosom. God hadrolled such a weight of conviction on her mind that she was almost crushedto the earth. How God could forgive her sins, she could not see. How oneso guilty, so rebellious, so hardened, could obtain mercy, she did notknow. Instead, at this time, of giving her heart to God, she resorted toother means to find relief from sin. She gave up many of the comfortsof life, locked herself into her room, and spent many weary hours inself-imposed penance. Against the holy claims of God her heart soonrebelled, and she longed to be taken out of her misery.

At length she attained a more scriptural view of the way of salvation; shesaw Christ as a vicarious sacrifice, and felt that, if saved at all, itmust be by his blood, and not by her own imperfect righteousness. Thisview of Jesus was sweet and precious. He had become, not the Savior of theworld, but her own Savior; he had died, not merely for the sins of therace, but for her sins; and in this sacred contemplation her soul foundsweet relief. The torturing load of fears was gone; one sight of Christ hadchanged the heart and taken away its grief and sin. Like a liberated slaveshe rejoiced in perfect freedom, and her happy soul went out in joyfulthanks to Him who had wrought the work.

With a heart changed by God, she seemed to pass from rapture to rapture,from bliss to bliss. Beneath the operations of grace her mind and her heartseemed to be enlarged, and to a wonderful extent she drank in the truthof the inspired word. Doctrines which until now had been all shrouded indarkness were readily comprehended. The great plan of salvation by thecross excited her wonder and admiration, and she loved to dwell upon it asthe way in which she herself had been saved. All the energy of her soulseemed to be aroused to action. She was in a new world, inspired by newhopes, living a new life, a new creature.

The character of Miss Hasseltine's mind may be inferred from the natureof the books which, at this period of her experience, she read with thegreatest eagerness. Instead of resorting to works of a superficial cast forinstruction, she selected the profound dissertations of our most learnedtheologians, and read with much interest, as we are informed by herbiographer, "the works of Edwards, Hopkins, Bellamy, and Doddridge." In theinvestigation of the deep and awful things of God she spent much of hertime, and, with a humble desire to know the truth and obey it, soughtwisdom from on high.

On the 14th of September, 1806, Miss Hasseltine made a public profession ofreligion, and connected herself with the Congregational church in Bradford,and for the first time partook with the company of believers of the brokenemblems of a Savior's infinite compassion. The observance of this ordinancewas full of blessing; at the table, according to her own testimony, sherenewed her covenant with her Maker, and more solemnly than ever gaveherself to the holy work of God. She felt how needful the assistance of ahigher power was to keep her from the snares into which young Christiansare so liable to fall.

After leaving the academy, Miss H. engaged as a teacher, and withconsiderable success employed herself in her vocation, in Haverhill,Salem, and Newbury. Teaching with her was not an ordinary employment; sheremembered that her pupils had souls as well as bodies; and while she wasstriving to expand the youthful mind, she also endeavored to improve theyouthful heart, and impress upon the conscience those lessons of truthwhich time could never efface. It was at the same conference in which theacquaintance between Mr. and Mrs. Newell commenced that Mr. Judson wasintroduced to the subject of this sketch. He was then in need of acompanion who would share his anxieties, his labors, and his sorrows; andhe fixed upon Miss Hasseltine as the one whose tastes and feelings mostaccorded with his own. He was probably attracted by her ardent piety, herbrilliant intellect, and her joyous spirit. Having duly considered thesubject, he gave her an invitation to go out with him to distant India, andbe his companion in the brightest hour of his prosperity and in the darkestmoment of his adversity. To decide the question was not an easy matter. Itwas connected with obligations which she did not hastily assume, and henceit was several months ere she had resolved to go. She was at times fearfulthat her disposition for what was in itself romantic and strange would biasher judgment and lead her to pursue a course which she should regret whentoo late to turn back. Hence she brought all her feelings and motives to asevere test, and looked down deeply into the hidden mystery of her heart.Before God she laid herself completely open, and sought, by humblesupplication, his divine direction. With no example but that of HarrietNewell, who had just consecrated herself to the work, she decided to makeIndia her home, and suffering and privation her lot. Her letters upon thissubject, about this time, abound with passages of thrilling interest, andgive evidence that the subject of missions absorbed her whole attention andpervaded her whole nature.

On the 5th of February, 1812, Mr. and Mrs. Judson were married at Bradford;on the 16th Mr. Judson and his associates were ordained in Salem, and onthe 19th they sailed for Calcutta. While on the passage, a change occurredin the feelings and views of Mr. Judson which materially changed his wholecourse. He was aware that at Serampore the Baptists had established amission station which was in successful operation. He knew that he shouldcome in contact with the peculiar views of that denomination, and be underthe necessity of replying to the objections which would be urged againsthis own sentiments. His own mind was at rest upon the subject; but hewished to be fully armed against all the arguments which he should meet onhis arrival. To prepare himself for an encounter with Dr. Carey and hisassociates, he commenced the diligent study of the word of God and suchworks as he had in his possession. As he advanced in his investigation,doubts began to thicken around him; his mind, instead of being more fullyconvinced, began to waver; the arguments of Baptists he did not know how toovercome. Thus it continued for a while, until, a short time after theirarrival, Mr. and Mrs. Judson threw aside their former views of baptism, andadopted the sentiments of another denomination. The particulars of thischange are given by Mrs. Judson in a letter to her friends. By her we areinformed that for a long time her husband's new notions did not correspondwith her own. With woman's ingenuity and skill, she sought to dissuade himfrom any public statement, and even from an investigation of the subject.She well knew to what such a step would lead. The friends who had beenso kind to her, who were then supporting her, who were willing still tosupport her, would be obliged to withdraw their aid. They could not, inconscience, support a missionary who was promulgating what they deemed anerror, and consequently would recall her husband to America. Nor was thisthe worst. She had many personal friends who would be unable to appreciateher motives and understand her true position. They would be surprised,grieved, and perhaps offended. And to be encountered, was the odium ofchanging one's religious opinions, the charge of fickleness, and theconsequent loss of reputation. Besides, the change, if made, would be asmall one—simply a question of difference between the application to thebody of a few drops of water and an entire immersion. This, to her mind,was a small change, which to her companion involved great consequences.Hence she endeavored to have him give up the subject and quiet his mindupon his previous opinions. Laughing, she told him, "if he became aBaptist, she would not." But the examination had been commenced, and couldnot be given up; and ere it was completed, she herself was a convert, Thatshe was sincere, we have no room to doubt; by the change she had everything to lose and nothing to gain. And it was made willingly, at last; whenher judgment was convinced, she hesitated not.

The brethren at Serampore knew nothing of the change of views until theyreceived a letter from Mr. Judson, asking baptism at their hands. That itwas to them an occasion of gladness, we need not state. Weary with toil,they received this addition to their number as a gift of God, sent at thistime to stay up their hands and encourage their hearts. It gave them newstrength to meet the tide of opposition and bear up under the heavy load ofmissionary care and anxiety.

They were baptized on the 6th day of September, in the Baptist chapel atCalcutta, and shortly after Mr. Judson gave his reasons for the change ina sermon which has already passed through several editions, and which isregarded by his friends as a conclusive argument.

Whatever may be the opinion in regard to the correctness of Mr. J.'s newviews,—whatever may be the views entertained of the denomination to whichhe united himself,—no godly man will regret the result to which it hasled. His change aroused to action the slumbering energies of the wholeBaptist section of our Zion, inspired that sect throughout the land with anew and holy impulse, and originated the convention, which now, under thename of the Missionary Union, is doing so much for a dying world. Butfor the change of Judson's sentiments upon the question of baptism, adenomination which is now contributing nearly two hundred thousand dollarsannually for missionary purposes might have, stood aloof from the holy workfor many years. The hand of God in this event is plainly seen—the hand ofGod, touching the heart of a mighty party, and animating it with a true,godlike missionary enthusiasm.

About the time of this change Mr. J. wrote a letter to Dr. Bolles, in whichhe threw himself upon the Baptists of America for support and sympathy.Previous to receiving a reply, he sailed with his companion for the Isleof France, at which place Mrs. Newell had been buried previous to theirarrival. The desolate man met them on the shore, and with tearful eyesdescribed to them the dying scene and the solitude of his own heart, Mr.Judson preached a while to the people and the soldiers who were stationedat the Isle of France, where he was the instrument of much good.

Providence did not favor his remaining at that place, and he left itfor another field of labor, and at length, after many difficulties andhardships, arrived at Rangoon, in Burmah, in July, 1813. At this placeseveral attempts had been made to establish a mission station, but all hadfailed; and the last missionary, a son of Dr. Carey, had departed a shorttime previous to the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Judson.

Our missionaries repaired to the house which Mr. C. had formerly occupied,about half a mile from the town. Mrs. Judson, being feeble, was borne uponthe shoulders of the natives; and as she passed along, or as the bearersstopped to rest, a crowd of people gathered around her. Some came to herside and looked under her bonnet, and retired with boisterous merriment.But all their little annoyances she suffered with patience, knowing thathere she was to find a home, and to these very people declare the word ofGod.

The manner in which they acquired a knowledge of the language is somewhatnovel. They were unable to find any one who was acquainted with the Englishlanguage, and were obliged to select an agreeable and pleasant Burman,who, to the best of his ability, instructed them in the principles of thelanguage of his country. They would point to houses, and trees, and thevarious objects around them, and he would give their names in Burman. Thusafter a while they were able to make themselves understood, and, beingwilling learners, they very soon made rapid progress—rapid, consideringthe discouragements under which they labored—being without both grammarand dictionary, or any other book which could materially assist them. Slowand discouraging indeed, compared with the labor of learning some otherlanguages under different circ*mstances, was their advancement; but whenthe circ*mstances under which they commenced and prosecuted the task oflearning the language of the Barman nation are considered, we shouldimagine that almost any progress was rapid.

On the 11th of September, 1815, their first child was born. They gave himthe name of Roger Williams, in honor of one of the greatest advocates ofhuman liberty which the world has ever raised. Eight months they loved himand watched over him, at the expiration of which he sickened and died. Hewas buried in the garden of the mission house; and the tears of the weepingparents, and a small company of kind-hearted but ignorant Burmans, wateredthe little grave, in the silence of which the infant had found repose.

For a few years after the arrival of Mr. Judson at Rangoon, the officersof government manifested towards the mission a friendly spirit. Themissionaries were invited to visit the viceroy and vicereine at theirroyal residence, and received their visits in return. The mission wasaccomplishing the object of its establishment, and from time to time wasreënforced. Even the bands of hostile robbers respected the property andpersons of the men of God; and they fondly dreamed that it would thuscontinue.

In April, 1819, Mr. Judson commenced preaching the gospel in a buildingerected for the purpose, called a zayat. Until this time he had notattempted publicly to discourse after the manner of preaching in America.His audience consisted of twelve or fifteen adults, besides a large numberof children. On the 27th of June, the first Burman convert was "buried withChrist by baptism." It was to the devoted Judson and his companions a dayof pure and holy joy. The first fruits of their labors began to appear; andwhen Moung Nau went down into the water, a burst of gratitude went up fromthe deepest places of their hearts. The day was beautiful, the audiencequiet and attentive, as there, beneath the very shadow of Gaudama, in thewaters of a lake consecrated to the rites of heathenism, the new-born soulgave outward signs of the inward change. With what feelings of interest themissionary must have looked upon the first convert, we can only imagine.For that day he had waited and toiled for years; and as he pronounced theimpressive formula, and in the name of the true God laid the dark son ofIndia beneath the yielding waves, the feelings which rushed upon him musthave been almost overpowering.

On the next Sabbath they sat down together at the communion table tocelebrate the death of Christ—to commemorate the scene of Calvary. What apicture! The first offering of Burmah to the Lord; the first convert fromthat great empire, with his pale teacher, kneeling at the same altar,drinking of the same consecrated cup, and believing in "one Lord, onefaith, one baptism." The second baptism was ministered on the same spot totwo other converts. Amidst profound and holy stillness they descended intothe water, where, a short time previous, Moung Nau had witnessed a goodprofession. The low and solemn tones of prayer were heard, the voicesuppressed, in fear of arousing the ferocious enemy. There was no sermon,no address, no song; the record was on high, and angels looked down asspectators of the thrilling event. Around them, in earth's homes and inearth's hearts, there was no sympathy; but in heaven a chord was touchedwhich will vibrate forever.

Shortly after the baptism of the two converts, opposition to the missionbegan to be manifested. Those who came to the mission house had evil intheir hearts. To shield themselves from all harm, and secure the protectionof the government, Mr. Judson and Mr. Coleman, who had been sent out incompany with Mr. Wheelock a short time previous, determined to visit Avaand see the king. They did so, and with some difficulty obtained a hearing.They took with them the Bible, which was in six large volumes, decoratedwith gold, and well calculated to attract the attention of a heathenmonarch. They were introduced into the palace and seated among the nobles.When the king appeared, the whole heathen throng prostrated themselves withtheir faces to the earth; the missionaries alone remained erect. After someconversation they presented their petition, and a tract on the being ofGod. The proud monarch read the petition through, and coldly handed itback to his minister. His eye then glanced over the little book; he read asingle sentence, and then dashed it to the ground. Without ceremony theywere hurried away from the palace, and, after various annoyances, wereallowed to return to the friendly shelter of their boat. Sadly did they goback to the field of their labors to relate the story of their failure, andto toil on again until some new interruption.

Under the labors and sufferings incident to such a station, the health ofMrs. Judson began to fail rapidly, and it soon became evident that nothingbut a visit to America would restore it. Consequently, in August, 1821, shestarted from Rangoon, and arrived in New York in September of the followingyear, spending some time in Calcutta and in England on her way. While inthis country she accomplished a vast amount of good by her letters andconversation, and succeeded in inspiring the friends of missions with adeeper solicitude to see the heathen world converted to God.

In 1823, having regained her health, she returned to Burmah in company with
Mr. and Mrs. Wade, who were sent out by the board to reënforce the mission.
She arrived on the 5th of December, and found her husband in the midst of
his toils and surrounded with disappointments and difficulties.

It soon become evident that Mrs. Judson had returned only to pass throughscenes of unparalleled sufferings. On her arrival she found her husbandabout to leave for Ava, and immediately started with him. On the passagethey encountered storms and dangers, and were, emphatically, in perils bysea and perils by land. While stopping at the town of Tsen-pyoo-kyon, aboutone hundred miles from the capital, they learned that the declarationof war had been made, and that the Burmans and English were at openhostilities. They reached Ava, and, without manifesting any fear or anyinterest in the hostile movements of the people, proceeded to build there ahouse and commence their operations. Soon the dreadful news came that theBritish had taken Rangoon. This catastrophe incensed the court at Ava, andMr. Judson and Dr. Price were arrested as spies in the employ of England.

On the 8th of June, 1824, Mr. Judson was arrested at his own dinner tableby a party of officers, led by an executioner whose power was absolute, andwho held in his hand a black book, in which the names of his victims wererecorded. With scarcely a moment's notice they threw him on the floor, andbound him with strong cords, and hurried him away. Mrs. Judson offered themmoney to release her husband; but they repulsed her with rudeness, andcarried him, heedless of her tears and prayers, into the death prison,where he was loaded with three pairs of chains, and fastened to a longpole, to prevent the moving of his body.

In this trying situation Mrs. Judson returned, a lone, desolate woman, toher dwelling, and destroyed all her papers, journals, and writings of everydescription, lest they should be examined and found to contain somethingwhich would increase the sorrow of her husband. Her servants were takenfrom her and confined in stocks, and a guard placed about the house, whodid their utmost to annoy and insult her. After some delay she procuredpermission to go abroad, and daily, at the prison gate, prayed that shemight see the prisoners. Permission was at length given, and the fond wifesought her husband. She found his condition more deplorable than she hadsupposed. He was scarcely able to crawl to the door of his rude tenement;and while he stood in conference with the highminded and noble womanwho had followed him beyond the seas, he was constantly annoyed by thesuspicious and watchful keepers, who listened to their conversation andscrutinized every movement. So jealous were they, that, ere any arrangementcould be made by which Mr. Judson's release might be effected, they werecommanded to separate. In vain the wife urged her affection for herhusband—in vain she appealed to manly feelings and love of home—in vainshe exhibited the order of government by which she had been admitted—invain she clung to the neck of her chained and suffering companion. Nomotive was strong enough to move the hard hearts of the cruel wretches, whoseemed to take exquisite pleasure in the miseries of others. So completelydoes heathenism deaden the heart to all generous and elevated feelingsthat those strong men could witness unmoved, ay, with delight, the intenseanguish of a feeble, weeping, broken-hearted woman. To every prayer sheoffered and every plea she made, they gave back words of cruelty and scorn;and when she entreated them, for the love of humanity, to allow her toconverse with Mr. J. a few minutes longer, they refused; and as shehesitated, they cried, in angry tones, "Depart, or we will drag you out."

The admirable conduct of this heroic woman, under such tryingcirc*mstances, we cannot too much applaud. Ceaselessly she labored for therelease of her husband. From one member of the royal family to anothershe went, with prayers that they would intercede in her behalf.Repulsed everywhere, she fainted not, but toiled night and day for theaccomplishment of her purpose.

After about a month's confinement, Mr. J. was violently beset withfever, and the governor gave orders that he should be removed to a morecomfortable situation. He was accordingly placed in a little bamboo hut,and his wife permitted to attend him. Here he remained three days, when theEnglish advancing upon the capital, the order was given for the removal ofthe prisoners. They were hurried away without warning, and Mrs. Judson wasleft in a state bordering on distraction. She soon found, on inquiry, thedirection which the prisoners had taken. With a single servant and twoBurman children, she started, with her babe, three months old, in her arms,to find her companions in suffering. She overtook them at Oung-pen-la, andfound their condition to be wretched beyond description. Their journey wasover a rough, burning road, and, chained two by two, they were whippedalong like cattle bound to the place of slaughter. Their backs wereblistered by the sun, and their feet scorched by the ground, until everystep they took drew forth a groan of anguish, which their drivers answeredwith yells of delight. One poor creature fell in the pathway, and wasdragged along until he expired.

To add to Mrs. Judson's distress, her assistant was taken with the smallpox the morning after she arrived at Oung-pen-la; and soon her daughterMaria was reduced to the point of death by the same disease, and sheherself was afflicted with the malady in a modified form.

The prisoners had been sent to this place that they might be burned in theold prison, in which, from the time of their arrival, they were confined,being chained together in pairs. But God had otherwise ordained: Judsonwas to live on. Soon an order for his release and return to Ava came; thegovernment hoping he might be of service to them in their difficulties withthe British. He was employed as interpreter and translator, and, as such,treated with some degree of kindness.

Wearied with continued anxiety, Mrs. Judson was prostrated by sickness soonafter her return to Ava. Reason fled away; insanity took the place of calmand deliberate action; and for seventeen days she was a raving maniac.Absent from her husband, and dependent on the cold mercy of heathen women,she was indeed an object of pity. But from the borders of the grave she wasraised up when all around thought her beyond the reach of hope. The hand ofGod reached down to the borders of the grave and rescued her from death,and placed her upon earth again, a fruitful laborer in the vineyard of herMaster.

Time and space will not permit us to follow these devoted missionariesthrough all the suffering caused by this distressing war. Mr. Judson actedas mediator between the English and the Burmans, and by his ingenuity andskill, his eloquence and experience, saved a vast amount of bloodshed andcrime. He was the instrument in securing the release of all the English andAmerican prisoners who were confined in the dungeons of Ava, and restoringsome from hopeless servitude to the friends and companions of youth. Heconferred immense advantage on England, while he saved the capital of thevast Burman empire from fire and sword. To him, more than to any other man,is to be traced the amicable adjustment of the existing difficulties,and the settlement of the trouble on terms so favorable to the Englishresidents of Ava.

One of the articles of the treaty then entered into provided that all theforeigners at Ava should have permission to leave unmolested. Mr. and Mrs.Judson availed themselves of this permission, and, on a beautiful eveningin March, left with their fellow-workers and fellow-sufferers, and saileddown the Irrawaddy, bidding farewell to the golden city within whose wallsthey had suffered so much and been sustained by God so long.

Nor was Mr. Judson the only one who won praise and glory during that awfulperiod. The companion of his toils was not idle. Her kindness to theprisoners—her arduous labors to do them good—her appeals to thegovernment—her visits to the nobles—her ceaseless efforts—won for herundissembled gratitude and immortal renown. Nor are the acts of Mrs. Judsonrecorded alone on the records of Christian missions. The secular press ofour own and other lands ascribed to her the honor of materially assistingin the adjustment of the existing difficulties, and, by her appeals andpersuasions, doing much to prevent bloodshed and crime.

She went where no person of the other sex would have dared to go, andwhere, to any woman of less devotion and tireless perseverance, allentrance would have been denied. Though her husband, at this trying time,was the object of her peculiar care, yet she found time to do good to allthe other prisoners. Like a ministering angel she moved among them, givingdrink to the thirsty, food to the hungry, and clothing to the destitute.

A statement was drawn up by an English prisoner, and published in Calcuttaand in England, in which the thanks of the prisoners are given to thisestimable woman. The writer dwells upon the theme with the interest of onewho has experienced acts of kindness and is himself under obligation. Heascribes to her, a feeble woman, the honor of having, under God, preparedthe Burman empire to seek terms of reconciliation and peace. From a fullheart he utters the tribute of his gratitude to the frail child of humanitywho forgot her own weariness, forgot her own sufferings, forgot her ownprivations, sickness, and want, and sought out the wants of the victims ofimperial despotism.

Her daily walk was from the prison to the palace. To one place she went towhisper words of kindness, to wipe away the tears of sorrow, to wet theparched lips of the dying with cool water, to bathe the limbs bruised andchafed by heavy irons, and to apply healing balm to both body and spirit;the other place she visited to plead and argue with a proud court, and ahaughty, tyrannical, and overbearing monarch. She risked her own life atevery trial, but ceased not her perilous work until God crowned her laborswith success—until the stubborn court of Ava relented—until she saw thefetters fall, and the prisoners again at liberty. The English nation owesher a debt of gratitude; for she has done more for it than many of its mostillustrious warriors. Humanity is a debtor to her memory; for she was kindto man, and, in his want and suffering, surpassed humanity to do him good.Religion is her debtor; for she was one of its most devoted advocates, andpresented in her life a sublime illustration of the power of faith. FromAva Mr. and Mrs. Judson removed to Amherst, a town which was founded at theclose of the war in that territory, and which, by the treaty, was ceded tothe English. It was at Amherst that Mrs. Judson was visited with the fatalfever which terminated her existence on the 24th of October, 1826.

At the time of her death Mr. Judson was absent from home, in company withMr. Crawford, the British commissioner. Her sickness was short and painful.During most of the time her reason was dethroned; but in her moments ofcalmness she gave evidence that all was peace. Without the hand of her kindcompanion to lift her aching head, or bathe her throbbing temples, shedied.

Mr. Judson returned, not to hear her voice, not to gaze upon her form, butto weep over her grave, and with his motherless child to sit in sorrow onthe spot where she breathed her last. Such was the violence of her feverthat she said but little, and left her husband without many of those tokensof kindness which surviving friends esteem of so much value.

They buried her at Amherst, under the shadow of a lofty hopia tree; and inthat lonely grave her form now reposes, heedless of what is passing on theearth. Her child, which died shortly after she was buried, is laid by herside; and on the sacred spot the traveller often pauses to think of one ofthe most devoted and self-sacrificing women whose names have been mentionedwith gratitude by the virtuous and the good. A marble slab, presentedby the ladies of America, marks the grave, and points it out to everystranger. On that slab is an inscription, a copy of which is on theopposite page.

Here we pause. Such labors, such self-sacrifice, such sufferings need notongue to speak their merits. The worth of Mrs. Judson is engraved upon thehearts of all who claim the Christian character. For her works' sake she isbeloved; and as long as the church endures, she will be remembered by allits members. Like Mrs. Newell, her fame belongs

[Illustration:

ERECTED TO THE MEMORY

of

ANN H. JUDSON,

MISSIONARY

_of the

Baptist General Convention in the United States

to the_

BURMAN EMPIRE.

She was born at Bradford,

In the State of Massachusetts, North America,

December 22, 1789.

She arrived with her husband at Rangoon

In July, 1813,

And there commenced those

MISSIONARY TOILS

Which she sustained with such

Christian fortitude, decision, and perseverance,

Amid scenes of

Civil commotion and personal affliction,

As won for her

Universal respect and affection.

She died at

Amherst, October 24, 1826.]

not to one sect or party, but to all who love our Lord and Savior JesusChrist. Like her she went out when but few were ready to bid her "Godspeed" or bestow their money for her support.

On the record of American missions we find the name of no female whoendured so much, who sacrificed so much, who accomplished so much. She fellnot when the first notes of the great enterprise were ringing on her ears;but she made her grave amid the strife and confusion of the battle. Shelived long enough to see the fruits of missions—to gaze upon the convertsas they descended, one by one, into the baptismal wave—to see a dooropened wide enough to admit laborers from every department of the Christianchurch. She mourned not, as did her sister martyr, that she was cut downere she had labored for God and seen the happy result. They were bornwithin sight of each other, in pleasant valleys, on the borders of thesilvery stream. They met the companions of their missionary toils at thesame time, and within a few days of each other decided to become the firstheroines of the missionary church. Together they sailed—as precious acargo as ever was tossed on the billowy sea. Together they landed onheathen soil, with high hopes of doing good. But, though united in theirlives, they were divided in their deaths. Mrs. Judson lived on more thana half score of useful years beyond her companion; and if life is to bemeasured, not by the number of days and years, but by what is accomplishedin it, or what is suffered during its lapse, then she lived ages—ay, agesof suffering, ages of labor, ages of virtue and piety—after Mrs. Newellhad descended to her grave.

And where are they now? Go ask the angel throng, as they tune their harpsto melodious songs on high, and they will point to two sister spirits, whoday and night in company present themselves before God; and as one rankafter another comes up from heathen lands to swell the chorus of theredeemed and ascribe their conversion to the efforts of the earlymissionary laborers who, under God, were made the humble instruments in thegreat work, meekly will be heard from the spirit lips of Harriet Newell andAnn H. Judson the reply, "Not unto us, not unto us, but unto the Lamb whowas slain, but who liveth forever."

ELIZABETH HERVEY, OF BOMBAY.

In the year 1812 a little company of missionaries sailed from the port ofBoston for Bombay. They were sent out by the American Board to spread theknowledge of Jesus in the dark places of the earth. They founded theirmission station—they labored long and cheerfully—they endured toil andself-denial—and saw the blessed results in the tokens of enlightened mindand regenerated heart.

On the evening of the first Sabbath in August, 1830, the windows of ParkStreet Church gave out a cheerful light; and he who entered saw congregatedthere an immense multitude of men and women. The pews, the aisles, thechoir, were all filled, and deep interest was on all countenances and inall hearts. The occasion which drew this vast congregation was the settingapart of three young men, with their wives, to the solemn work of missions.William Ramsey, William Hervey, and Hollis Read were about to depart to"the land and shadow of death;" and the Christian community had cometogether to hear their voices, to see their countenances, for the lasttime. Soon broke over that crowd of human beings the well-known hymn, sungby a full choir and echoed by a responding people,—

"Jesus shall reign where'er the sun
Does his successive journeys run;
His kingdom stretch from shore to shore,
Till moons shall wax and wane no more."

Then was heard the solemn prayer of consecration, in which the missionarieswere commended to God and to the word of his power; the blessing of Heavenwas implored in their behalf; and to the care of Him who holds the winds,and who guides the dashing waves, the servants of God, the messengers ofthe church, were committed.

From the instructions given those beloved missionaries on that occasion wegive the following extract:—

"The time has arrived to which you have looked with expectation and desire,when, with the partners of your lives, you are to bid farewell to yournative land, and to enter upon a course of evangelical labors for thebenefit of distant heathens.

"On such an occasion, it is obviously proper in itself, as wellas conformable to general usage, to address to you in public someconsiderations, in the form of advice and instructions, from those who havethe superintendence of the mission with which you are to be connected. Thisis to you a solemn and eventful hour; and if, as we hope and believe, youhave approached it with an earnest and truly benevolent desire to becomeheralds of divine mercy to your perishing fellow-men, it will be an houralways remembered with joy and gratitude in the future stages of yourexistence. If you partake of that holy, self-denying spirit which broughtdown the Son of God from heaven,—if you have any true sympathy with theapostles, who considered it as a great calamity to themselves if they werehindered in the work of preaching the gospel,—you will hereafter be ableto say, with pure and indescribable delight, There was a period in ourhistory when we publicly, in the house of God and in the presence of manyChristian friends, devoted our lives to the service of Christ among theheathen. There was a time when the attachments to friends and country weredissolved, under the influence of that love which seeketh not its own,and which embraces, in its comprehensive regards, the suffering and thedestitute of every clime.

"Congratulating you, therefore, on the possession of a temper which, ifactually possessed, is of more value to you than all which this country orthis world can furnish, we proceed to offer the following directions andremarks:—

"The vessel in which your passage is taken will, with the favor ofProvidence, convey you to Calcutta, where you will probably have theopportunity of conferring with some of those venerable men who led the wayin the missionary enterprises of the last forty years. They are known andhonored throughout the world; and honors will thicken and brighten aroundtheir memory long after the mere politician, statesman, and warrior shallhave passed into oblivion.

"Without unnecessary loss of time, you will proceed to Bombay. Here a largeand most interesting field invites your labor—interesting, not so muchfrom any harvest which has been already gathered, nor because the preciseperiod of ingathering can now be foreseen by human vision, as from theconsideration that here the first mission of the Board was established;that here a noble and successful effort was made by our missionaries inpleading before governors the claims of the gospel; that here the firstmessengers of our churches cheerfully labored, till most of them havefallen asleep, their lives having been worn out by incessant exposure andtoil; and, finally, that here preparations have been made for future labor,with a view to the wants of many millions, in whose language the message ofsalvation is delivered and the Scriptures are printed and circulated, whilemultitudes of children are trained up to read, reflect, and reason.

"The Christian community sends you forth, dear brethren, as messengers fromour churches to the heathen. In the name of our churches we bid you Godspeed. The very act of our sending you forth in the name of the churchimplies that we hold ourselves bound to the same cause. By these publicservices we are solemnly pledged to regard you as a part of ourselves,not the less dear certainly because distant, your very distance beingoccasioned by your attachment to the common interests of the church.You have a just claim upon your Christian brethren in America for theirprayers, their sympathies, and such a supply of your temporal necessitiesas will enable you to prosecute your great work. We are confident that,if all the members of our churches were convened in one place, they wouldunanimously sustain us in expressing these reciprocal obligations.

"Still, brethren, you must be sensible that the manner in which thesepledges shall be redeemed will depend much upon the grace which isvouchsafed from above. If the spirit of piety should become low in ourchurches; if jealousy should divide their efforts; if professed Christiansshould generally become more entangled with this world,—the missionaryenterprise of the country will be enfeebled. We would not distress you withapprehensions of this kind further than is requisite to call forth yourearnest, constant, and importunate prayers that God would not leave ourchurches to a retrograde movement, which, in the present circ*mstances ofthe world, would be a most deplorable event.

"Confiding in that Savior who gave himself for the church and who loves itwith an everlasting love, we affectionately commend you to his protectionand blessing. When he, as the great Shepherd, shall gather his sheepinto one fold, may you, and we, and multitudes of heathens saved by yourinstrumentality, be numbered among his chosen; and to him shall be gloryeverlasting."

The next morning the missionaries, with their wives, embarked on board theship Corvo, for Calcutta. On the wharf the hymn was sung and the prayeroffered; and the vessel swung off from the wharf amid the prayers and tearsof the spectators. The vessel had a safe passage, and all the attention ofCaptain Spaulding was given to render the voyage pleasant and cheerful.

Mrs. Elizabeth Hervey, the wife of Rev. William Hervey, was born in Hadley,
Massachusetts, and was the daughter of Deacon Jacob Smith, a beloved
Christian and an estimable citizen.

During her early years she was remarkable for a prevailing desire to dogood to others. Her young heart seemed set upon the work of benefiting herfellow-creatures; and she would make any sacrifice to confer happiness uponthose around her. Though her heart had not been renewed and her mind madeacquainted with the high and holy motives of the gospel, yet she recognizedher obligations to others, and, while quite a child, endeavored faithfullyto discharge them.

When she became a Christian, this desire to do good assumed a new andmore divine form, and she exerted herself to lift up the race and adornhumanity. Her pastor, under whose ministry she was converted, says, "Doinggood was her delight and her life. The subject of missions, years beforeshe saw Mr. Hervey, was the great theme of her soul. She was alive to it atevery point, and her memory will long be cherished here."

In the years 1815 and 1816 a sweet and gentle revival of religionwas enjoyed in Hadley. Devoid of much of the excitement, the outwardexhibitions of feeling, which such occasions bring, the living heart of thepeople was touched, and in all the homes of the inhabitants was felt andrealized the heavenly results. In this revival Miss Smith became a child ofGod. Though amiable and outwardly virtuous, she became convinced that sheneeded a radical change such as she had never experienced. Still she madethe sinner's excuse and fled to the sinner's refuge. One useless habitafter another was given up, one sin abandoned, and one new step invirtue taken; but the wounded spirit found no rest. At length the crossappeared—the Savior's cross. She saw it—realized that by it she must besaved, if saved at all. With all a dying soul's deep earnestness she fledfor safety and laid hold on the everlasting hope. The great salvationbecame her life, and in firm hope she embraced the Lord Jesus Christ.

In 1816 she united with the Congregational church in Hadley, and during hersojourn in this country maintained a consistent walk and conversation. Shewas emphatically a growing Christian—one who advanced in holiness, as thesun grows brighter when the day advances.

After her acquaintance with Mr. Hervey commenced, the question of amissionary life was laid out before her. She had often pondered upon it andprayed God to open the effectual door before her; and when the opportunitywas presented, her heart warmly responded to the call from Heaven. Thatshe had some trials and misgivings upon the subject cannot be doubted; butthese were swallowed up in the desire to do good to her fellow-creatures.Though it required an effort to leave home and friends, she met the trialwith unshaken firmness and devotion. Not long before they sailed for Bombayher husband preached a sermon, in which he gave expression to his owndesires to promote the glory of God. In these expressions his heroiccompanion doubtless united; and though she could not publicly declare herown determination, doubtless her heart was united with his, not only in thesocial relations of life, but also in the firm and holy efforts for theelevation of our race. In that sermon, which we believe to have been theexpression of the feelings of the fallen wife, Mr. Hervey says,—

"Besides the various objects in your own town and country which may havea claim on your charity, there are many millions of your fellow-creaturesabroad who have a still stronger claim; stronger, because their woes aredeeper and their wants greater. I stand now to plead the cause of Christ,not in behalf of the suffering bodies of a few poor saints at Jerusalem,but in behalf of the undying souls of six hundred millions of poor,benighted heathen. O for the eloquence of an angel, that I might exhibit toyou the unsearchable riches of Christ, and the inconceivable miseries ofmen who are living and dying without a knowledge of him, in such a lightthat every one of you should weep because you have not a thousand fold morewealth to give, ten thousand hearts to pray, and twice ten thousand handsto labor for their salvation! I have no doubt that such would be yourfeelings, if you could now see things in the light in which you will seethem shortly. You would then see that the end of living in this world,which was redeemed with the blood of the Son of God, and which is full ofsinners perishing for want of that gospel which you possess, was somethingelse than to heap together wealth to pamper 'the lusts of the flesh, thelusts of the eye, and the pride of life.' But the riches of Christ eternitywill be too short to unfold; and I have neither time nor ability to presentto your minds any thing like an adequate conception of the miseries of theheathen. That they are living and dying without the gospel, is enough togive every believer in the Bible an affecting sense of their wretchedness.

"I have told you the story of the Lamb of God—pointed you to what heleft and what he submitted to in order to raise men to the riches of hiseverlasting love. He has gone back to heaven and taken his throne again;but he has left a cause on earth that is dear to him as the apple ofhis eye, and all the attributes of his name stand pledged for its finaltriumph. This cause he has intrusted, in a very important sense, to hisdisciples—beings in whose nature he came and suffered; and without theirinstrumentality it never did, and never will, go on.

"Thus he gives you all the privilege of being co-workers with him in savingthe heathen. If you are not permitted to go in person to carry them thegospel, yet you may be perhaps equally useful by your prayers, and byfurnishing the means for sending those who shall preach to them theunsearchable riches of Christ. If, then, you would elevate the degradedheathen to the purity of Christians, send them the gospel. If you wouldrescue them, not only from their present wretchedness, but from theirdarker prospects in the world to come, and inspire them with the high hopesof eternal salvation, send them the gospel. If you would see them at thelast day on the right hand of the Son of man, and hear their burstingpraises to God for your liberality and prayers, which helped to bring themthere, now show how high you value their souls by contributing to send themthe gospel, and by your fervent prayers that the blessing of the Lord mayaccompany your bounty and make it the means of their salvation.

"If other motives than those which have been presented were necessary toencourage you in this good work, I might prove to you that you will be thericher for every sacrifice you make to promote the cause of Christ; if notricher in temporal, yet certainly in spiritual blessings. I might say toyou, in the language of Him who cannot lie, who holds the elements in hishand and can command them to spare or destroy your wealth, to bless orblast the work of your hands, 'The liberal soul shall be made fat; and hethat watereth shall be watered also himself.' 'There is that scattereth,and yet increaseth; and there is that withholdeth more than is meet, but ittendeth to poverty.' Or, in the words of Him who gave up all his wealth andhis life for us, 'It is more blessed to give than to receive.'

"I have chosen to rest the cause which the Lord has now permitted me toplead in his name mainly on the one great argument in the text; for in thewhole compass of the universe there is not a motive to benevolent action socommanding as that. And I am persuaded it has not been presented to yourminds in vain. No, I have been addressing those who know the grace of ourLord Jesus Christ; who feel thankful for that grace; and whose hearts burnwithin them to spread it abroad through the whole world.

"Is there one here who wishes to be excused from this work? Why, mybrother, would you be excused? Look again. Is it no privilege to beallowed to do something to promote that cause for which patriarchs,prophets, apostles, and martyrs have prayed, and toiled, and died? Is itno privilege to help forward that cause which has engaged the hearts andhands of all the wise and good of every age? Is it no privilege tobe associated with the choicest spirits now on earth in promoting thesublimest, the most benevolent, the most godlike cause that ever did or canemploy the hearts and hands of men? Is it no privilege to labor, and pray,and give for the advancement of that cause which awakens the deepestinterest in the bosoms of all the heavenly host, and which is the occasionof their loudest and loftiest songs of praise? Is it no privilege to dosomething for Him 'who left the highest throne in glory for the cross ofdeepest woe,' in order to give men a place in the mansions of his love? Isit no privilege to be a coworker with the blessed God in rescuing soulsfrom a course of eternal sinning and suffering, and raising them toeverlasting holiness and happiness and glory? Is it no privilege to aid inforwarding the only cause for which the world was made and for which allnature stands? The man who does not esteem it a high privilege that he maydo something to promote such a cause may have the name, but cannot have theheart, of a Christian. If, then, any one desires it, let him be excused.The cause will go on. It has many friends, and is rapidly gaining more.It has Omnipotence for its support. Jesus 'shall have the heathen for hisinheritance, and the uttermost parts of the earth for his possession.' Hedid not 'humble himself and become obedient unto death' for nought. 'Heshall see of the travail of his soul and be satisfied.' 'All the ends ofthe earth shall see the salvation of our God.' 'The mouth of the Lord hathspoken it.'

"There is a mighty stir among the nations. The melting appeals from amongthe heathen have reached us from the four winds—'Come over and help us.'The person who addresses you expects, in a short time, if the Lord will, topreach the unsearchable riches of Christ to some of these distant heathen.He feels for the destitute in his own beloved land; but while he knowsthere are so many millions of immortal beings more destitute,—while heis to act under the commission, 'Go ye into all the world, and preach thegospel to every creature,' and while so few who are better qualified canthink it their duty to these unhappy beings,—he feels that 'woe will beunto him if he preaches not the gospel unto them!'"

Inspired with such feelings, and cherishing such views, our sister went outto declare the love of God on heathen soil. Like those who before her haddevoted themselves to the service of the Savior, she went forth not knowingwhither she went or through what scenes she would be called to pass.

But God in his divine providence was soon to call her home to glory; herwork was to be short, and her course quickly run. A few months only was shepermitted to do good as she desired ere death called her away to the restbeyond the grave. She fell an early victim to her own self-sacrificingdisposition. Shortly after her arrival at Bombay she was prostrated by thedysentery, which terminated her labors and her sorrows on the 3d of May,1831.

Her lonely husband, writing to the father of his deceased companion, givesthe following account of her dying hours:—

"Before this reaches you I trust, you will have heard of the goodness ofthe Lord in bearing us safely over all the dangers of the Atlantic andIndian Seas, in providing us friends in Calcutta who spared no pains tomake our stay in that city agreeable and happy, and in bringing us insafety to this, the destined field of our labors, our disappointments, ourdifficulties, and, as we expected when we left the shores of our nativeland, of our deaths. And although, since our arrival here, his afflictinghand has been laid heavily upon me, still I would speak only of hisgoodness. For when he afflicts and chastens his children, it is in lovingkindness and tender mercy. It is not for his pleasure, but for theirprofit, that they may be partakers of his holiness. But if he has been goodto me, he has been doubly so to your and my dear Elizabeth. Yes, God hasmade all his goodness to pass before her; for he has released her from allher sins and sufferings, and taken her to himself. 'O,' said she, 'howwill the intelligence rend the hearts of my dear parents and sisters!' Shepaused a moment, and then added, 'But they will be supported. They knowwhere to look for consolation.' Weep with me, my dear, dear parents, alittle moment, and then we will together review the painful but mercifulscene of her last sufferings.

"All that I have said above shows only the afflicting hand of God in thisdispensation, which has snatched from me thus early the dear companion ofmy wanderings and toils, the tender partner of my joys and sorrows, thebeloved wife of my heart; but in what remains to be said, will be seen hishand of goodness and mercy. In all her sufferings she was never heardto utter a single murmur or complaint, but was continually magnifying thegoodness of the Lord. 'I did hope,' said she, 'that I should be permittedto do something towards elevating the miserable and degraded femalesof India to a state of refinement and happiness; but since God decidesotherwise, his will be done. In this great conflict, some must fall as soonas they enter the field.' She repeated more than once a sentence which Dr.Woodbridge dropped in his address to her on the evening of our marriage,in substance as follows: 'If we hear that, like Harriet Newell, you havefallen a victim to the climate of India even before you have commenced yourlabors there, still we say to you, Go.' 'Now,' said she, 'tell my friends,tell my beloved pastor, tell the dear church in Hadley, that I do not, andnever have for a moment regretted that I came here. No; had I foreseen thishour, and all I have endured since I left America, I should have decidedjust as I did, if the path of duty had been as plain as it appeared to be.'During her sickness she often spoke of the love she felt towards the peopleof God. She was affected to tears at the kindness of her physicians andothers who attended her. She addressed the members of the mission whocalled to see her on the importance of living to God and of being faithfulin his service. She expressed an earnest desire that God would make herdeath the means of a revival of religion in all the members of the mission;and said, if such should be the case, she should consider her early removala greater blessing to the mission and to India than many years of her poorservice could be. The day before she died she requested me to read to herthe twelfth chapter of Isaiah. 'Yes,' said she with emphasis, 'God ismy salvation.' As I read along she repeated after me the third verse,emphasizing the word 'wells'—'with joy shall ye draw water out of thewells of salvation.' Some time afterward she wished me to read thefourteenth chapter of John, which she said afforded her much comfort. Sherepeated from time to time many striking texts of Scripture and parts ofhymns, which, as I could leave her only for a moment, I did not write down.Twice she repeated, and seemed to feel the full force of, that beautifuland sublime stanza of Watts,—

'Jesus can make a dying bed
Feel soft as downy pillows are;
While on his breast I lean my head,
And breathe my life out sweetly there.'

"One who stood near her said, 'O Death, where is thy sting? O Grave, whereis thy victory? The sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is thelaw.' With animation she exclaimed, in addition, 'But thanks be to God,which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.' Mr. Allen saidhe hoped the Savior would be with her as she walked through the dark valleyof the shadow of death. 'If this,' she said, 'is the dark valley, it hasnot a dark spot in it—all is light, LIGHT.'

"I said to her, 'My dear, your sufferings are great.' 'Don't,' said she,'don't mention them; they have been nothing—nothing.' After a severespasm, that seemed to convulse her whole frame, she exclaimed, 'O thepains, the groans, the dying strife! The spirit seems to be struggling andfluttering to get free from this cumbersome body.' She had, during most ofher sickness, bright views of the perfections of God. 'His awful holiness,'she said, 'appeared the most lovely of all his attributes.' At one timeshe said she wanted words to express her views of the majesty and glory ofChrist. 'It seems,' she said, 'that if all other glory were annihilated,and nothing left but his lone self, it would be enough—it would be auniverse of glory.'

"The day before her death she was asked if she wished to see her child.'Not now,' said she; 'I am too much exhausted. I fear it would overcome me.I will see him by and by.' After she had rested a while, she said now shewould see the babe. It was brought into the room. 'Let my husband,' shesaid, 'bring him to me.' I carried the child to her. She took it in onearm, and with the other embraced my neck. After a moment she looked up tothe spectators with a smile, and said, 'Here is my family—my treasure—myearthly all. I cheerfully resign them into the hands of God.' On themorning of the day she expired I asked if she wished to send any particularmessage to any of her friends. She replied she did, and asked me to writewhat she dictated.

"Thus, my dear parents, I have finished the account of our belovedElizabeth's last pains and joys in the flesh. Who can wish her back toearth? If any other one has reason to cherish such a wish, I have more. Butsevere as the stroke is upon me, I rejoice that her conflict with sin andsuffering is over, and she is with her Redeemer. To know that she departedthus, triumphing in God her Savior, must afford you, as it does me, greatconsolation in the midst of the affliction which the news of her death willproduce. But you, who knew her amiable disposition, her humble, prayerful,self-denying, holy life, have a better testimony that it is well with hernow, than her dying deportment, whatever it might be, could give. She livedunto the Lord, she died unto the Lord; and there can be no doubt that sheis now the Lord's.

"Last Sabbath evening Rev. Mr. Allen preached a sermon in the chapel, onthe occasion of her death, from Romans xiv. 8. Since then I have learnedthat one careless man appears to have been awakened by the account that wasgiven of her peaceful and triumphant death. Perhaps her prayers are aboutto be answered in a revival of religion here. The Lord grant that it may beso!"

When a beloved fellow-laborer dies at home; when the place of some dear oneis vacated by death; when the hand of labor ceases to move and the heartof sympathy ceases to beat,—all around are saddened by the event: gloomcovers the weeping church, and all who knew the fallen one bend in tearfulsilence over the grave. But when a missionary dies we can form no opinionof the feelings of those who are left in sorrow. Away from home and allthe endeared scenes of early life, they become more strongly and firmlyattached to each other. Between the members of the little band are formedthe most tender ties, the most hallowed relations; and when one onlydeparts, all hearts grieve and bleed as if the dearest earthly object hadbeen removed.

Mrs. Hervey was buried near the scene of her labors—on heathen soil. Thesolemn funeral service and the pang of death were calculated to deepen theimpression upon the minds of the converted and unconverted people; and thehymn, as it sent its mournful echo along the borders of the field of gravesand sounded like the song of an angel amid the homes of the living, turnedmany a thought forward to that haven where the saint shall break from therepose of death, and come forth to the resurrection of the just, a new andglorified form.

"Why do we mourn departing friends,
Or shake at death's alarms?
Us but the voice that Jesus sends
To call them to his arms."

Did we not have implicit confidence in the ways of God and in his specialprovidence,—did we not feel that he is too wise to err, too good tobe unkind,—our hearts would often faint as we hear of our devotedmissionaries falling into the grave ere they have been permitted to laborto any considerable degree for the conversion of the heathen. Did we notfeel perfectly satisfied in relation to the wisdom and mercy of the greatHead of the church, we might well fold our hands and ask, "Will God beangry forever?" But who does not know that Jehovah is able to accomplishmore by our deaths than we are able to accomplish by our lives? Who doesnot know that, from the very ashes of the tomb, he can send up a voicewhich will echo amid the shades of night and thrill the cold hearts ofdegraded men?

They who despond, as the tidings of woe come borne to us on almost everybreeze which sweeps across the ocean, have lost sight of Him who holds inhis hand the issues of life and the awful realities of death. These havedrawn their eyes from the immutable promises and the ever-present Helper,and fixed them on the tomb, and the corpse, and the pale mementoes ofmortality. They have ceased to reason like Christian men, and look at God'sprovidence through the misty vision of scepticism and doubt.

Men admit that certain laws control the world of planets, the world ofanimal life, the world of intellect and reason; but seem not to have theidea that the providences are all under God's control, and regulated byfixed and certain laws. The sparrow that flits from bush to tree, and themighty angel that wheels in everlasting circles around God's throne, arealike under divine protection. The feeblest insect which creeps upon theearth, and the highest archangel which ministers to God above, are equallysafe beneath the divine protection. The Being who holds the universe, whokeeps worlds in their places, is also employed to count the feathers of theyoung raven's wing, and number the hairs which cluster upon the human head.

Nor will God allow the places of the dead to remain long vacant. Theconversion of the world is in accordance with his unalterable will andpurpose; it was an article in the grand treaty of Calvary; and by allthat God is has he pledged himself to give "the heathen to his Son for aninheritance, and the uttermost parts of the earth for a possession." Hencewhen, in the accomplishment of his grand design, one after another who wentforth with high hope and joyful expectation is cut down, we may expect tosee others raised up ready to accomplish greater good than their fallenpredecessors.

The hearts of men are in Jehovah's hand. He moves upon the mind as he will,and takes those whom we least expect to lead on his hosts to the victoryover sin.

Years ago the question was, "Who will go?" but now the question is beingasked, "Who will stay at home and let me go?" "Who will resign his placein the missionary ranks, and let us go forth to do battle for the truth?"And we may expect this spirit to increase, until it shall be deemed thehighest glory of the Christian minister to be a missionary of the cross ofChrist.

Thanks be to God, the Church is arousing herself to her high duty, andalready many have gone forth. The places of Harriet Newell, of Ann H.Judson, of Sarah D. Comstock, of Harriet B. Stewart, of Sarah L. Smith, ofElizabeth Hervey, of Henrietta Shuck, of Sarah B. Judson, and of others whoare now quietly sleeping the long sleep of death, are filled. Others asfaithful have come on to do the work which they left unfinished, and tostand around the moral plants which they began to cultivate,

And thus it will continue. When the faithful, laborious, successfulmissionary women who are now the admiration of the church and the worldfall beneath the pressure of disease, toil, and time, a missionary Churchwill send out her daughters, who are reposing at home, to take the placesof those who depart; and never will Burmah, Syria, Ceylon, Turkey, andother dark places be deserted, until over all the earth shall echo the songof the ransomed and the jubilee of the redeemed.

HARRIET B. STEWART, OF THE SANDWICH ISLANDS.

Harriet Bradford Stewart labored as a missionary at the Sandwich Islands.Amid this beautiful cluster of green spots in the bosom of the sea herefforts for human good were put forth; and here was the scene of hersuccess, though not of her death.

The origin of the mission to the Sandwich Islands is somewhat peculiar.In 1809 two little boys shipped themselves on board of an American vesselbound for New York. They arrived at the great city, and, after residingthere awhile, were taken to New Haven, Connecticut. They were fatherless,motherless children, with none to care for them; and their destitute,helpless condition soon drew the attention and won the sympathy of theChristian public. In a short time one of these youths was converted to God.Opukakia became a believer in the religion of Christ, and to the believersof our own land gave evidence of having passed from death unto life.Interest in these boys soon led to solemn inquiry into the condition oftheir country. This inquiry resulted in the establishment of a school forthe instruction of heathen youth who were found in our land; and of theprivileges of this school these two boys gladly availed themselves.

Shortly after they were taken to Andover and made acquainted with aclass of young men who were about to graduate and go forth as heralds ofsalvation. Two members of that class soon determined on a missionary life,and selected these islands as the field of their labors. These young menwere Hiram Bingham, and his classmate, Mr. Thurston. Their services wereoffered to the Board, and in 1819 were accepted. They were ordained atGoshen, Connecticut, and, under very solemn and impressive services, setapart to the work of the ministry.

On the 15th of October, 1819, in the vestry of Park Street Church, inBoston, they, with others, were organized into a church of the LordJesus. On the 23d of October this church set sail for the place of itsdestination—to the field of labor in which it was to thrive and flourish.Solemn was the scene, as on the wharf stood a company of beloved ones, whowere leaving home and all the dear associations of youth for a barbarousnation. There, beneath the cool breath of autumn, they united in singing,—

"When shall we all meet again?
When shall we all meet again?
Oft shall wearied love retire,
Oft shall glowing hope expire,
Oft shall death and sorrow reign,
Ere we all shall meet again."

The voyagers were commended to the "God of ocean and storm" by Rev. Dr.Worcester; the apostolic benediction was pronounced; and the vessel gaylypursued her way down the harbor, and was soon lost from sight.

After the usual pleasures and annoyances of "a life on the ocean wave," thecompany were made glad by beholding in the distance the green hills of theislands on the soil of which they were to labor and pray. They found thepeople, not as Judson and Newell found those to whom they were sent withthe torch of truth, but ready to believe and embrace the gospel. Themessengers they sent ashore were greeted with shouts of joy, and theirwondering eyes turned to consuming idols and demolished temples. They founda nation without a religion, a government without a church, a court withoutan ecclesiastic. The people seemed sunk in barbarism. They had no schools,no books, no pens, no means of information. Gross darkness was over all thepeople, and the land was enveloped in appalling gloom.

Undismayed by the gross ignorance and encouraged by the abolition ofidolatry, the servants of God went to work. They distributed themselvesthrough the islands, and every where preached Jesus and the cross. Theeffects of their labors were so apparent that the American Board wereencouraged to send out repeated reinforcements; and in the progress oftime Mr. Stewart and his accomplished companion arrived at Hawaii on theirsacred mission. Perhaps there is no mission station on the globe, no sceneof missionary toil, where such glorious results have been accomplished, andsuch wonderful changes wrought, as at the Sandwich Islands. Mr. Bingham,speaking of the condition of the people at the time of his arrival amongthem, says, "The nation had, on our arrival, neither books, pen, norpencil, for amusem*nt or business, or for acquiring information orcommunicating thought. They sat, like Turks or tailors, on mats spread onthe ground; dipped their fingers in the dish to eat their fish, poi, anddog flesh, without knife, fork, or spoon. They stretched themselves at fulllength on the mats to play cards or otherwise kill time. Their water theydrank from a gourd shell; and awa, the juice of a narcotic root, chewedby others and mixed with water in the chewers' mouths, they drank, as theirfathers had done, from a cocoa-nut shell, for the same purpose that otherintoxicating drinks and liquors are taken."

That the nobles as well as the common people were thus degraded anduncivilized, we are referred to a description, given by the same writer, ofthe king, who, with the royal family, was invited on board the vessel whichconveyed out the missionaries, "They came off in their double canoes, withwaving kahalis and a retinue of attendants. His majesty, according to thetaste of the times, having a maio, or narrow girdle, around his waist, agreen silken scarf over his shoulders, instead of coat, vest, and linen,a string of beads on his otherwise naked neck, and a feather wreath, orcorona, on his head,—to say nothing of his being destitute of hat, gloves,shoes, stockings, and pants,—was introduced to the first company of whitewomen whom he ever saw."

But the speedy change from drunkenness to sobriety, from ignorance tocomparative intelligence, from theft and falsehood to honesty and truth,from shameless indecency to purity and chastity, from the violation ofthe whole ten commandments to the sacred observance of these ten, frombarbarism to civilization and refinement, from brutish idolatry to the holyservice of God, was astonishing even to those through whose instrumentalityit was brought about.

Thirty years ago there was no church, no school house, no seminary oflearning, no regard for the Sabbath, no thought of the great Jehovah: nowall of these are found. The church tower lifts itself to heaven; the schooland the seminary are sending abroad their instructions; the Sabbath isregarded by the mass of the people; and Jehovah is worshipped in spirit andin truth by thousands. During the year 1840 there were four thousand onehundred and seventy-nine additions to the church in the five islands; andsince then conversions have been multiplied and converts have increased.The Bible has been printed, and edition after edition given to theperishing inhabitants, until thousands of them are rejoicing in the hopewhich it inspires. The whole temporal and spiritual condition of the peoplehas changed. Christianity has made men of beasts, and lifted up the wholegovernment in the scale of being.

Perhaps we can convey no better idea of the change which a few years' laborproduced in the Sandwich Islands than by giving an extract of a letter,written by Rev. C. S. Stewart about the time of the death of his wife. Itis a beautiful and thrilling description of a Sabbath in an island where,a few years before, was nothing but idol worship, heathen rites andceremonies, and ignorant superstitions.

"At an early hour of the morning, even before we had taken our breakfast onboard ship, a single person here and there, or a group of three or four,enveloped in their large mantles of various hues, might be seen wendingtheir way among the groves fringing the bay on the east, or descending fromthe hills and ravines on the north towards the chapel; and by degrees theirnumbers increased, till in a short time every path along the beach and overthe uplands presented an almost unbroken procession of both sexes and ofevery age, all pressing to the house of God.

"Even to myself it was a sight of surprise; not at the magnitude of thepopulation, but that the object for which they were evidently assemblingshould bring together so great a multitude, when at this very place, onlyfour years ago, the known wishes and example of chiefs of high authority,the daily persuasions of the teachers, added to motives of curiosity andnovelty, could scarce induce a hundred of the inhabitants to give anirregular attendance on the services of the sanctuary. But now,—

'Like mountain torrents pouring to the main,
From every glen a living stream came forth:
Prom every hill in crowds they hasten down
To worship Him who deigns in humblest fane,
On wildest shore, to meet the uprightin heart,'

"The scene, as looked on from our ship, in the stillness of abrightly-gleaming Sabbath morning, was well calculated, with itsassociations, to prepare the mind for strong impressions on a nearer view,when the conclusion of our own public worship should allow us to go onshore. Mr. Goodrich had apprised us that he found it expedient to hold theservices of the Sabbath, usually attended at all the other stations at nineo'clock in the morning and at four in the afternoon, both in the fore partof the day, that all might have the benefit of two sermons and yet reachhome before nightfall; for

'Numbers dwelt remote,
And first must traverse many a weary mile
To reach the altar of the God they love.'

"It was near twelve o'clock when we went on shore. Though the serviceshad commenced when we landed, large numbers were seen circling the doorswithout; but, as we afterward found, from the impossibility of obtainingplaces within. The house is an immense structure, capable of containingmany thousands, every part of which was filled except a small area in frontof the pulpit, where seats were reserved for us, and to which we made ourway in slow and tedious procession, from the difficulty of finding a spoteven to place our footsteps without treading on the limbs of the people,seated on their feet as closely almost as they could be stowed.

"As we entered, Mr. G. paused in his sermon till we could be seated.I ascended the pulpit beside him, from which I had a full view of thecongregation. The suspense of attention in the people was only of momentaryduration, notwithstanding the entire novelty of the laced coats, co*ckedhats, and other appendages of naval uniform. I can scarce describe theemotions experienced in glancing an eye over the immense number, seatedso thickly on the matted floor as to seem literally one mass of heads,covering an area of more than nine thousand square feet. The sight wasmost striking, and soon became, not only to myself, but to some of myfellow-officers, deeply affecting.

"With the exception of the inferior chiefs having charge of the districtand their dependants, of two or three native members of the church and ofthe mission family, scarce one of the whole multitude was in any other thanthe native dress—the maro, the kihee, and the simple tapa, of theirprimitive state. In this respect, and in the attitude of sitting, theassembly was purely pagan; totally unlike those of the Society Islands; asunlike as to one at home. But the breathless silence, the eager attention,the half-suppressed sigh, the tear, the various feeling—sad, peaceful,joyous—discoverable in the faces of many, all spoke the presence of aninvisible but omnipotent Power—the Power that can alone melt and renew theheart of man, even as it alone brought it first into existence."

Turning from the changes which have been wrought in these islands,—onwhich we have, perhaps, lingered too long already,—we turn to one throughwhose efforts a part of this work has been accomplished.

Harriet B. Tiffany was a native of Stamford, Connecticut. She was born onthe 24th day of June, 1798. Her parents were honorably descended from anillustrious line, and Harriet inherited many of the noble qualities ofher ancestors. Her youth was passed mostly in Stamford, Albany, andCooperstown, in which places she endeared herself by many acts of kindnessto all who knew her, and grew up to womanhood cherished and loved by allwho came within the circle of her influence. In 1819 she passed throughthat mysterious change which is denominated regeneration. Repeatedafflictions, the death of friends, and her own sickness led her to feel theneed of a strong arm and a firm hope. Feeling the emptiness of earth, thevanity of human life, even in its best estate, she turned to Him who cangive support to the soul in the hours of its dark night and guide it amidthe gloom. By faith she saw the crucified One, and rested her sorrows andgriefs on Him who was able to bear them. She was changed from darkness tolight, from sin to holiness, from death to life.

The great subject of a missionary life was presented to her view, connectedwith a proposal to accompany Rev. C.S. Stewart to the Sandwich Islands ashis assistant and companion. With trembling anxiety she submitted the caseto the wise discretion of her Father in heaven: on earth she had none.As may be supposed, it was no easy thing for a young lady of high andhonorable connections, who had always been surrounded with friends andeducated in the circle of refinement and luxury, to leave all these. Therewere tender ties to be riven, fond associations to be broken up, dearfriends to part with, and a loved home to leave behind; and when themomentous question was brought distinctly before her mind, it required astrong faith, a firm dependence on God, an entire submission to his will toinduce her to take the solemn and important step; but, believing herselfcalled upon by God, she decided in his favor, and lost sight of thesacrifice and self-denial of the undertaking.

She resolved to go—to go, though home was to be abandoned, friends to beleft, loved scenes deserted, and a life of toil to be endured. She resolvedto go—to go, though she might pass through a sea of tears, and at lastleave her enfeebled body upon a couch that would have no kind friends tosurround it when she died. She resolved to go, though she should find insavage lands a lowly grave.

She was married to Mr. Stewart. in the city of Albany, on the 3d of June,1822. Mr. Stewart had already been appointed as a missionary, and was togo out to the Sandwich Islands under the care of the American Board. Theysailed in company with a large number of others who were destined for thesame laborious but delightful service. The sun of the 19th of November wentdown on many homes from which glad spirits had departed on their errand ofmercy to a dying world; and on that day the eye of many a parent gazedupon the form of the child for the last time. Nor could a vessel leaveour shores, having on her decks nearly thirty missionaries, without beingfollowed by the prayers of more than the relatives of those who haddeparted. There was mingled joy and sorrow throughout the churches of NewEngland, as the gales of winter wafted the gospel-freighted vessel to herdistant destination.

They arrived, in April of the following year, at Honolulu; and, after aresidence of a few days, located themselves at Lahaina, a town containingabout twenty-five thousand inhabitants, who were mostly in a degradedcondition. Here they found but few of the conveniences of life, and wereobliged to live in little huts, which afforded but slight shelter from thescorching heat or the pelting rain. In these miserable tenements did thechild of luxury and wealth reside, and in perfect contentment perform theduties of her station. She suffered, but did not complain; she laboredhard, but was not weary; and, cheerful in her lot, smiled even at herprivations and sorrows.

In 1825 her health began to fail. Unable longer to labor for her perishingheathen sisters, she sailed for England in order to enjoy medical adviceand care; but instead of improving by the voyage, she continued to decline,until the hopelessness of her case became apparent. She embarked forAmerica in July, 1826, her residence of a few months in England havingrendered her no permanent benefit. In her low state the voyage was anything but agreeable; and she arrived among her friends the mere shadow ofwhat she was when, a few years before, she had gone forth in the flush ofyouth and the vigor of health.

For a time after her arrival strong hopes were cherished that shemight recover. The balmy breezes of her own native valley, the kindcongratulations of friends, the interest and excitement of a return to thescenes of youth gave color to her cheek and life to her step. But in theearly part of 1830 the prospect of returning health was dashed, and Deathappeared in all his terror. Long was her last sickness—so long that shegroaned to depart and be with Christ. For many months she suffered andstruggled on a weary bed, until the spirit call was heard, and golden gateswere opened, and the ransomed one entered in. During this sickness she wassustained by the grace of God. Death found her ready, and led a willingvictim down into the sepulchre, who exclaimed, as she entered it, "O Death,where is thy sting? O Grave, where is thy victory?"

Racked with pain and tortured by disease she murmured not, but, as each newcup of sorrow was put to her lips, meekly replied, "The cup which my Fatherhath mingled, shall I not drink it?" She was a remarkable instance ofChristian submission and resignation under sufferings, and left behind her,to surviving friends, the joyful evidence that she had passed away to rest.

"Spirit, leave thy house of clay;
Lingering dust, resign thy breath;
Spirit, cast thy cares away;
Dust, be thou dissolved in death.
Thus the mighty Savior speaks
While the faithful Christian dies;
Thus the bonds of life he breaks,
And the ransomed captive flies."

Since the death of Mrs. Stewart at Cooperstown, the work of civilizationand reformation in the Sandwich Islands has been rapidly progressing. Thefaith of the Church has been strong and confident, and she has exertedherself to save those islands from barbarism and ignorance. In her holystrength, and with her high commission, she has sent out her servants armedwith the whole Christian armor. These men and women have preached Jesus andthe cross with wonderful success. Struggling against the tide of obstaclesand the barriers which sin raised in their pathway, they have advanceduntil they have caused an entire change in the customs and the religion ofthe people.

Nor have the natives been unwilling to render their assistance. They havecooperated with the missionaries, and nobly exerted themselves to bring theislands under Christian influences. Their efforts to erect temples in whichthey and their children may worship the only living and true God illustratethe zeal with which they toiled to accomplish good. Speaking of the largestone church at Honolulu,—a church which cost twenty thousand dollars,and required the labor of many men for six long years to finish it,—Mr.Bingham says, "In the erection of this stately edifice, the active men,among about one thousand communicants of that church, having divided intofive companies, labored by rotation many days and weeks with patience andzeal."

Of the labor given to the erection of a house of worship at Kealakekua, thesame work furnishes us with the following particulars:—

"The stones were carried upon the shoulders of men forty or fifty rods. Thecoral for making the lime they procured by diving in two or three fathomwater and detaching blocks, or fragments. If these were too heavy for thediver to bring up to his canoe with his hands, he ascended to the surfaceto take breath, then descended with a rope, attached it to his prize, and,mounting to his canoe, heaved up the mass from the bottom, and, when thecanoe was thus laden, rowed it ashore and discharged his freight. By thisprocess they procured about thirty cubic fathoms, or seven thousand sevenhundred and seventy-six cubic feet. To burn this mass, the church membersbrought from the mountain side, upon their shoulders, forty cords of wood.The lime being burned, the women took it in calabashes, or large gourdshells, and bore it on their shoulders to the place of building; also sandand water for making the mortar. Thus about seven hundred barrels each oflime, sand, and water, making about two thousand barrels, equal to threehundred and fifty wagon loads, were carried by women a quarter of a mile,to assist the men in building the temple of the Lord, which they desired tosee erected for themselves and for their children—a heavy service, whichthey, their husbands, fathers, sons, had not the means of hiring nor teamsto accomplish. The latter had other work far more laborious to perform forthe house. The sills, posts, beams, rafters, &c., which they cut in themountains, six to ten miles distant, they drew down by hand. The posts andbeams required the strength of forty to sixty men each. Such a company,starting at break of day, with ropes in hand, and walking two or threehours through the fern and underbrush loaded with the cold dew, made fastto their timber, and, addressing themselves to their sober toil for therest of the day, dragged it over beds of lava, rocks, ravines, and rubbish,reaching the place of building about sunset."

Mr. Conn gives the following amusing account of the industry andwillingness of the people in church building at Waiakea, Hilo: "I haveoften gone with them to the forest, laid hold of the rope, and draggedtimber with them from morning to night. On such occasions we usually, onour arrival at the timber to be drawn, unite in prayer, and then, fasteningto the stick, proceed to work. Dragging timber in this way is exceedinglywearisome, especially if there be not, as is often the case, a fullcomplement of hands. But what is wanting in numbers is often suppliedin the tact and management of the natives, some of whom are expert inrallying, stimulating, and cheering their comrades, by sallies of wit,irony, and, if the expression is allowable, of good-natured sarcasm. Themanner of drawing is quite orderly and systematic. They choose one of theirnumber for a leader. This done, the leader proceeds to use his vocal powersby commanding all others to put theirs to rest. He then arranges his menon each side of the rope, like artillerists at the drag rope. Every manis commanded to grasp the rope firmly with both hands, straighten it, andsquat down, inclined a little forward. The leader then passes from rear tofront, and from front to rear, reviewing the line to see that every mangrasps the rope. All is now still as the grave for a moment, when thecommander, or marshal of the day, roars out in a stentorian voice, 'Kauo,draw!' Every one then rises, and away dashes the timber, through thicketand mud, over lava and streamlet, under a burning sun or amidst drenchingrain. No conversation is allowed except by the marshal, who seems to feelit his privilege, during his incumbency, to make noise enough for all."

In this toilsome way most if not all the houses for the public worship ofGod have been erected; and most of them being of enduring materials, theywill stand for many years as monuments of the devotion, self-sacrificingindustry, and sincere piety of the Sandwich Island Christians. A peoplehaving this spirit, and animated with such a love for Christ and hisworship, could not fail in being successful while armed with gospel truth.Before such noble workmen all obstacles will vanish, all barriers willbe broken down, all opposition will be overcome. Were the members of thechurch in Christian lands willing to make such sacrifices and perform suchlabors, a half century would not roll away ere the voice of the missionarywould be heard in every valley and on every hill top of the globe. Were theChristians of one single denomination willing to lay hold upon the "dragrope" of Christian missions, and emulate the conduct of the poor, degradedSandwich Islanders, in their efforts to build temples of worship, theywould see the car of salvation moving on gloriously, and, ere long, wouldlisten to the shout of a redeemed world.

The Christians of these islands seem to resemble the early disciples ofour dear Savior. Their simple and unostentatious piety, their firm, manlydevotion to truth, and steady resistance to error, their willingness toleave all for Christ, reminds us of the disciples of Antioch and Rome, whoperilled life and happiness to prove their devotion to the cross. Perhapsnowhere in our times have converts from heathenism to Christianitydisplayed more of the primitive spirit, and developed more of the primitivevirtues, than the once despised, idolatrous, blinded inhabitants of theSandwich Islands. The language of each heart seems to be,—

"Jesus, I my cross have taken,
All to leave and follow thee;
Naked, poor, despised, forsaken,
Only thou my leader be."

In the language with which Mr. Bingham closes his full and valuablehistory, we close this sketch of the Sandwich Islands and of one of themost intelligent and gifted females ever sent to them:—

"A nation has been raised from blank heathenism to a rank among enlightenednations, to the enjoyment of letters and laws, of Christianity and the hopeof heavenly glory. Whatever troubles may yet assail them, there is groundto rejoice that the foundation of the spiritual temple of Jehovah has therebeen firmly laid, and its superstructure commenced, which is to rise infuture generations. The builders there and elsewhere have many adversaries;but the benignant Lamb shall overcome them. His servants must bemultiplied, and many a heart, constrained by the love of Christ, will befound to say,—

'The voice of my departed Lord, "Go teach all nations,"
Comes on the night air, and awakes my ear.'

"If the American Board and its friends and laborers have not done too muchfor that nation in a generation past,—and who will say they have toiled orexpended too much?—those who are on the Lord's side, grateful for what theLord has wrought there, will be encouraged to attempt and expect the sameor 'greater things than these' for other nations, till in every tongue theyshall harmoniously hymn the Messiah's praise, and earth's ransomed millionsshall swell the strain which these converted islanders have recentlylearned and gratefully adopted:—

'E ke Ola, Lua ole!
E ukuia kou make e:
Lanakila kou aloha;
Nau 'na mamo, e maha 'i:
Make oe i mau ohua—
Nou ko makou mau naau;
Nou ka ikiaka;—Nou na uhane;—
Nou ka nani oia mau.'

'O Redeemer, matchless, glorious,
Let thy anguish be repaid;
Reigning, make thy love victorious;
In thy seed be satisfied:
Thou wast slain, blessed Lamb, to win us;
Let us live and die for thee;
Worthy thou of all within us;
Thine shall endless glory be.'"

SARAH L. SMITH, OF SYRIA.

There are some spots on earth more hallowed than others. There areconsecrated cities and towns, from which, as we approach them, we seemto hear a voice, saying, "Put off thy shoes; for the spot whereon thoutreadest is holy ground."

Such are the places in which Christ our Savior lived, and preached,and suffered while incarnate. Such are the places where his immediatesuccessors, the apostles and martyrs, contended so earnestly for the faithdelivered to the saints. Jerusalem, Bethany, Bethlehem, Corinth, Ephesus,Antioch, and Rome will be associated forever, in the minds of Christians,with the early progress and triumphs of our holy religion; and the pioustraveller will never visit those places without feeling his bosom thrillwith tender and intense emotions.

On this account the mission in Syria is one of peculiar interest. Foundedalmost within sight of Calvary, it is surrounded with many scenes of dearand hallowed interest; and it requires but little effort of the imaginationto recall the song of the infant church, as it arose from vale and glen,vibrating on the air and echoing back from hoary Lebanon. It was with themission in this place that the amiable, talented, and beloved subject ofthis article was connected.

Sarah Lanman Huntington was the daughter of Jabez Huntington, Esq. Shewas born in Norwich, Connecticut, on the 18th of June, 1802, and in thatbeautiful town passed through the period of childhood. She was educatedwith missionary sympathies and feelings. All the circ*mstances under whichshe was placed were calculated to invest the holy enterprise with sacredpleasantness. In her father's house she never heard a word of reproachbreathed forth against the cause itself or the devoted men and womenengaged in it. She traced her descent from the famous John Robinson, ofLeyden, whose blood came flowing down through a long missionary line untilit coursed in her veins. Her grandfather was a member of the American Boardof Commissioners for Foreign Missions; and all her relatives on the side offather and mother were active promoters of the work of God.

Under such influences Sarah grew up, believing that it was far morehonorable to do good to man, to be the means of reclaiming the wandererfrom the path of duty, or to bring a sinner back to God, than to found anempire, or establish a throne, or conquer an army of steel-clad warriors,or lead in triumph captive kings and princes. Before her conversion, shewas aware of the divine character of the work which had just commenced; anddoubtless her young heart responded to the appeals made by the death ofHarriet Newell and the life of Ann H. Judson.

During the first twelve years of her life there appears to be nothingunusual in her history. She was like other thoughtful and pleasant girlsof her age, and spent her time in the amusem*nts and pursuits of youth.At school she was industrious, studious, but not remarkably rapid in herprogress; at home she was fondly loved and cherished; but in the minds ofher parents she never appeared to be a prodigy or a genius.

At the age of twelve she became the subject of the Spirit's influence. Hermind was drawn to divine things and her heart touched by the finger ofGod. On the 10th of August, 1820, she realized for the first time theblessedness of full and free forgiveness. The Savior was precious to hersoul, and holy duties were pleasant and delightful. She had passed from thedeep waters of conviction, and gladly placed her feet on the Rock of Ages,where she stood immovable. Her joy knew no bounds. Liberated from sin, freefrom the dreadful weight of guilt and condemnation, pardoned by God andloved by Christ, she deemed no praises too exalted, no trials too severe toendure in return. She immediately recognized the great principle that "weare not our own," and acted upon it; and life became from that hour devotedto holy employments and useful pursuits.

Writing to one of her friends about this time, she says, "All is changed.I am in a new world of thought and feeling. I begin to live anew. Even ourbeautiful Norwich has new charms, and, in sympathy with my joyousness,wears a new, a lovelier, aspect."

The vows which she made, as she passed through the "strait gate" andentered the kingdom of heaven, did not consist of words alone. They wereengraven on her heart and carried out in her life as well as recorded onhigh. Ceaselessly she sought out ways in which she might do good to thebodies and the souls of her fellow-creatures; and what her hands foundto do, she did with her might. In 1827 she formed a plan to benefit theMohegan Indians, who lived a few miles from Norwich. These Indians were theremnant of a once mighty tribe; and the proud blood of some of their rudechieftains of former times coursed through the veins of these tatteredand ragged descendants. From hut to hut she visited among these degradedchildren of the forest; started a Sabbath school, of which she and anotheryoung lady were the sole teachers; provided books for those who could read;and in many ways conferred benefits upon them. Not satisfied with this, shedetermined to build a church and secure the services of a missionary; andfor this purpose wrote to several of her influential friends, to securetheir coöperation and sympathy. For aid in her work of benevolence she alsoapplied to the legislature of Connecticut and to the general government.To a considerable extent she was successful, and obtained the esteem andgratitude of that forlorn and oppressed people.

The manner in which she visited among the people gives us an insight intothe character of the woman, and furnishes us with a clew to her futuresuccess. She usually rode from Norwich on horseback, and, taking a littlegirl with her into the saddle, passed from house to house, using the childas guide, interpreter, and adviser. When she met in the road a few raggednatives or a knot of men and women she would stop her horse and converse awhile with them, and slip a tract into the hand of each, and with a smilepass on. In this way she gained the confidence and love of the poor peoplewho lived in ignorance and degradation within sight of the towers andtemples of New England towns and cities.

At times the mind of Miss H. was much exercised in relation to a missionin the western part of our own country. The gathering thousands who werepouring in from every quarter of the world, the future influence of thewest upon the nation, the wide field of usefulness there presented, wereall inducements for her to go forth and labor amid the mountains and on thebroad prairies which extend towards the shores of the Pacific Ocean.

The idea of laboring in the west was abandoned in 1833, during which yearshe resolved to accompany Rev. Eli Smith to his field of toil in Syria.The opportunity presented by the offer of Mr. Smith was what Miss H. mostearnestly desired. Her heart was set on doing good; and no spot on earthcould have been selected more in accordance with her tastes and feelings.The long-cherished purpose could now be accomplished; and, after dueconsultation with her friends, she was married on the 21st of July, in themidst of her associates, at Norwich.

On the 29th of August the parting between child and parents took place, andMrs. Smith left the home of her infancy forever, and, after visiting thefriends of her husband in Boston, embarked from that place for Malta, onthe 21st of September, in the brig George, commanded by Captain Hallet.

The scene on board the vessel was peculiarly solemn. After the missionarieshad arrived and the people had assembled on the deck and on the wharf, allunited in singing that grand hymn,—

"Roll on, thou mighty ocean;
And, as thy billows flow,
Bear messengers of mercy
To every land below."

Rev. Dr. Jenks then led in prayer, commending the servants of God to thegracious care of Him who sitteth on high; after which the brig was loosenedfrom her moorings and floated down the harbor, while the little cluster ofmissionaries on board sung sweetly the beautiful hymn of Heber,—

"From Greenland's icy mountains,
From India's coral strand."

The sorrowful friends remained standing upon the wharf until the vesselwhich contained the loved ones had faded from sight, and with its preciousfreight was far out upon the deceptive ocean.

After a fine voyage of fifty-four days the missionaries landed at Malta,and proceeded to Beyroot, via Alexandria. They arrived at Beyroot on the28th of January, 1834. The sketch of their voyage, given by Mrs. Smithherself and found in her published memoir, is of intense interest. Theobjects of interest were so numerous, the mind of the voyager so wellprepared to appreciate them, that a journey on land could scarcely havebeen more delightful. The heaving Atlantic; the calm, bright Mediterranean;the Azore Islands; the long coast of Africa; the Straits of Gibraltar; thestay at Malta; the visits to convents, temples, and other places of resort;the city of Alexandria; the Mahometan Sabbath; the grave of Parsons; thepassage to Beyroot, and the safe arrival,—were all calculated to enlistthe feelings of such a woman, with such a mind, as Mrs. Smith, She arrivedat her new residence at Beyroot on the 28th of January, 1834. The town liesat the foot of the "goodly mountain," Lebanon, and, to the approachingtraveller, presents a scene of beauty seldom equalled. Descending gentlyfrom the south, the whole town seems like one vast garden, with houses halfcovered by the thick foliage, and cottages of Oriental style, of brown oryellow appearance, peeping through the overhanging trees, or standing inthe centre of a well-cultivated spot, like a temple in the heart of a city.Away beyond is Lebanon, stretching its sunny ridges from north to south,and lifting its peaks until they bathe their foreheads in the clouds. Onits sides are seen the cottage, and here and there a cluster of humanhabitations, forming little villages, which delight the eye and give beautyto the prospect. Every thing, to a native of Europe or America, is uniqueand strange, and has an air of richness and productiveness which surpriseswhile it charms. The birds, the beasts, the insects are, to a lover ofnatural beauty, sources of study and profit; and the refined mind couldscarcely find a more delightful spot as a field of missionary exertion.

The inhabitants did not correspond with the outward scenery. Though thepeople kindly welcomed them, the missionaries found a wide difference inthe habits and customs of the European and the Arab; and brought intoconnection with the latter, as they were every hour of the day, thecontrast was continually before the mind.

Besides this, the missionary cannot live on the same equality with thepeople as can other classes of European or American residents. The tradercan close his doors and have his family circles sacred from the intrusionof officious, meddlesome natives; but this course would defeat the veryobject which the missionary has in view. It would shut him out from theconfidence and sympathy of those whose hearts he wished to reach. It wouldplace between him and the heathen a barrier which would be insurmountable.So our sister found it at Beyroot. She had no house which she couldproperly call her own; for at times, while she was least prepared and whilevisits were least desirable, her house would be invaded by a company offive or six women, who would remain a long time, asking questions andprying into a hundred things which did not concern them.

And yet Mrs. Smith felt that these annoyances must be endured withcheerfulness; and when patience was almost wearied out, and time whichbelonged to herself and her family was taken up by such persons, shewould console herself that such privations and trials were parts of themissionary work, which must be endured cheerfully for the sake of Jesus.

The manners, customs, and dresses of the people at Beyroot served to remindthe Christian of the times of Christ, and led back the imaginationthrough the lapse of eighteen hundred years to the thrilling events whichtranspired throughout the Holy Land.

So few are the improvements made in art and agriculture that one can easilyfancy himself in the middle of the first century, gazing upon the peoplewho from apostolic lips listened to the words of life and salvation; andunder this almost irresistible impression the solemnity of Gethsemane andCalvary gathers over the soul, and throws a divine enchantment over thelife and labors of the men of God. So our sister felt, as the Orientalcostumes passed before her, as she looked out from her window upon thesides of the snow-covered Lebanon.

The situation of Mrs. Smith was not at all like that of many other devotedservants of God. She was not compelled to break up the fallow ground, or bethe first to drop the Seed into the soil. Others had preceded her—they hadprepared the way—they had erected the kindly shelter—they had opened theheathen mind to receive light and truth. Hence, on her arrival, she foundall the comforts and conveniences of a civilized community—she found amost beautiful and romantic residence, a land teeming with all the hallowedassociations of sacred history.

Called by God, not to the dungeons of Ava, not to the damp andmonster-covered banks of the Irrawaddy, but to a more congenial field oflabor, she toiled on in it with pleasure.

Mrs. Smith spent most of the time in her school, which was commenced soonafter her arrival, and for a while was "the only schoolmistress in allSyria." The school house, which was erected upon a plan of her own, wasfilled by a large number of children of Egyptian, Arabian, and Turkishparents, who, under the care of their faithful teacher, made considerableprogress. To instruct the little, ignorant children, explain to them themysteries of science, and lead them upward to the God who made them, was atask for which she was well adapted. Being an ardent lover of the beautifuland grand in nature, she made the green fields, the blooming vineyards, thehigh, towering mountain all subservient to the purposes of instruction. Herresidence among the Mohegans prepared her for her duties in Syria, and gaveher the advantage of an experience which she could have acquired nowhereelse. In the Sabbath school she was also most happily employed ininstructing the fifteen or twenty children who attended in the path ofholiness. Under her labors the school gradually and constantly increased,and a visible change for good was observed among the pupils. Her kindnessand affection won the hearts even of the Moslem parents, who, in repeatedinstances, disobeyed the direction of their priests, and kept theirchildren under her care after the school had been condemned.

One of the most pleasant circ*mstances connected with the missionary lifeof Mrs. Smith was her visit to the Holy Land in 1835. From early childhoodshe had regarded with a feeling of veneration the city of Jerusalem. Thatwas the city in which many of the Savior's miracles were done; there he hadhealed the sick, cast out devils, raised the dead, and performed many otherwonderful works; there was the temple; there the scene of trial, and thestreets along which the cross was borne; there, near at hand, was theGarden of Gethsemane, the Mount of Olives, and on the other side ofthe city the Hill of Calvary on which the Savior was crucified. When,therefore, she found herself on her journey to the most noted spot in thewide world, emotions of solemn and pleasing interest crowded upon her mind.As she passed along, one object of interest after another presented itself.Tyre and Sidon were seen; and the spot whereon Sarepta once stood wascrossed. Her feet traversed the mountains of Galilee, and stood upon thesummit of Carmel, Gerizim, Tabor, Hermon, Lebanon, Olivet, and Calvary. Shevisited the spots where tradition tells us the Savior perished and wherehis sufferings were endured; and doubtless her imagination brought backthe scenes of the past, and she might have heard the low, silvery tones ofmercy and grace as they flowed from the lips of "Him who spake as never manspake."

After visiting the prominent places of the Holy Land, our missionaryreturned again to her station at Beyroot, where she labored with untiringdiligence until June, 1836, when, her health failing, she set sail with herhusband for Smyrna, with the delusive hope of regaining it. At this pointher sufferings commenced. The vessel in which they sailed was old anduncomfortable; the crew and some of the passengers were any thing butagreeable; and horrid profanity was heard instead of prayer and praise. Thefifth night after leaving Beyroot the vessel was wrecked on the north sideof the Island of Cyprus, and the voyagers escaped with their lives. Aftermany hardships and much danger they landed on a sandy shore in an almostdestitute condition, and, after continuing on the island some days,obtained passage towards the place of their destination. The vessel onboard which they sailed was a Turkish lumberman, and in no way adapted tothe conveyance of passengers. But, submitting to stern necessity, they madethe best improvement of the circ*mstances under which they were placed. Ofthe voyage Mr. Smith says, "The wind was high, and, being contrary to thecurrent, raised a cross and troublous sea. The vessel was terribly tossed,and, being slightly put together, threatened to founder at almost everyplunge. Mrs. Smith, besides rolling to and fro for want of something tosupport her against the motion, was writhing under violent seasickness,which, instead of allaying, served only to increase her cough. She had somefears that she should not survive the night; and for a time I did not knowwhat would be the end of her sufferings."

They arrived at Smyrna in thirty-three days after they left Beyroot. Hereher strength gradually failed. The consumption which was wasting her bodyand drawing her down to the grave made visible advances; and on the 30thof September, 1836, she died in the triumphs of faith, at Boojah, a quietlittle village about five miles from Smyrna.

In her sickness she gave the most cheering illustrations of the power ofthe Christian faith to subdue fear and disarm death. Her mind was lifted upabove the sufferings of her lot, and she held constant intercourse with theSavior of her soul. To a great extent she was free from pain, and enabledto converse with her husband upon the prospect before her. She waited fordeath with pleasure, and was ready at any hour to depart and be with Jesus.To die was gain, unspeakable gain; and she knew it well. Hence, when herphysician and friends would whisper words of hope, she would plainly tellthem that her work was done, her mission fulfilled, and the sand of herglass almost run out. It gave her more pleasure to look forward to ameeting with the loved men and women who had departed than to contemplatean existence on the earth, where storms will disturb the fairest prospect,and clouds will shut out the rays of the noonday sun.

On the Sabbath before her death she sung, in company with her husband, thehymn,—

"Thine earthly Sabbaths, Lord, we love;
But there's a nobler rest above;
To that our longing souls aspire
With cheerful hope and strong desire."

At twenty minutes before eight o'clock she died, with a countenance allilluminated with smiles, which, after she ceased to speak, played uponher features, and by their silent eloquence whispered to every beholder,"Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear noevil."

On the following day, as the tidings spread through Smyrna that the saintedwoman was at rest, the flags of the American vessels in the harbor wereseen lowering to half mast, and that upon the dwelling of the consul wasshrouded with the drapery of death.

On the 1st of October she was carried to the grave. The service of theEnglish church was read beside the corpse, and in one common grief thepeople stood bending over it, while the beautiful hymn of Dr. Watts wassung:—

"Unveil thy bosom, faithful tomb;
Take this new treasure to thy trust;
And give these sacred relics room
To slumber in the silent dust."

The tidings came echoing across the deep, and in our homes the story ofdeath was told; and sadness filled the pious heart as the thought thatanother servant of God, another heroine of the church, had fallen at herpost, a martyr in the cause of truth. The American Board of Commissionersfor Foreign Missions felt deeply the loss which had been sustained, andmourned for one whose piety, intellect, and labors were abundant.

Here endeth the missionary toils of two years and four months; and,uttering words of peace to the fallen, we bid farewell to her memory untildeath shall call us to join the blessed throng of the ransomed whose namesare recorded on high.

"Who would not wish to die like those
Whom God's own Spirit deigns to bless?
To sink into that soft repose,
Then wake to perfect happiness."

ELEANOR MACOMBER, OF BURMAH.

Almost all the heroines who have gone forth from the churches of Americato dot heathen soil with their lowly graves have been attended by somestronger arm than that of weak, defenceless woman. Many of them have hadhusbands on whom they relied for support and protection, and to whom theycould turn with the assurance of sympathy in hours of anguish and gloom.

But Miss Macomber went out attended by no such kind companion. She resolvedon a missionary life, without the offer of marriage being connected withit. No husband helped her decide the momentous question; and when sheresolved, it was to go alone. Impelled by the Christian's high and holymotives, she determined on a course which would involve her in a thousandperplexities and load her with a thousand cares. With none to share thesecares and perplexities, with no heart to keep time with the wild beatingsof her own, she crossed, a friendless woman, the deep, dark ocean, and onsoil never trodden by the feet of Christian men erected the banner of thecross.

Eleanor Macomber was born at Lake Pleasant, Hamilton county, New York. Hereher childhood and youth were passed, and here was her mind prepared forthat career of usefulness which in after years made her an ornament to hersex, to the church, and to the world.

From Lake Pleasant she removed to Albany, where her heart was brought intosubjection to the divine will and her mind impressed with the great truthsof revelation. She became a convert to the religion of the cross. Shebecame a convert to tears, to prayers, to self-denying labors, to a lifeof sacrifice and devotion. Her piety was from henceforth of the highestcharacter, and all her daily deportment gave evidence of her love to theSavior.

In 1830 she was sent out by the Missionary Board, of the Baptistdenomination, as a teacher among the Ojibwas, at Sault de Ste. Marie, inMichigan. This was her first missionary work, and she continued engaged init nearly four years, when, in the mysterious providence of God, her healthfailed, and she was obliged to return to her friends. But the great Head ofthe church, in removing her from one field of labor, was only preparing herfor another. In 1836 she became connected with the Karen mission, and amore extended field of usefulness was thrown open before her. She sailedfrom this country in the ship Louvre, and arrived in Maulmain in the autumnof the same year.

After her arrival she was stationed at Dong-Yahn, about thirty-five milesfrom Maulmain. Here she lived and labored almost alone, doing the greatwork which was assigned her. In the midst of discouragements she faintednot, but performed labors and endured afflictions almost incredible. Whenshe arrived at the scene of her future labors her heart was affected atwhat she saw. Vice and sin reigned triumphant. The most odious, disgusting,and blasphemous crimes were committed. On every hand intemperance andsensuality were observable. She immediately commenced in their midst theworship of God. On the Sabbath the people were drawn together to hearabout the blessed Jesus; and the story of the cross was told with all thesweetness of woman's piety. During the week her house was thrown openfor morning and evening prayers. A school was soon gathered under herpersevering labors: ten or twelve pupils gathered into it.

Mr. Osgood, who accompanied Miss Macomber from Maulmain to her field oflabor, and whose duty required him to leave her there, an unprotectedstranger, in the midst of a brutal, drunken community of heathenbarbarians, writes as follows of her place of toil and her feelings on herarrival:—

"We ascended the Salwen River about twenty-five miles, and slept in ourboats the first night. On the morning of the next day, December 20, weprocured a guide and proceeded overland, following the line of the ZuagabenMountains, to the house of one of the chiefs, about ten miles. The chiefand most of the inhabitants were absent, attending the burning of a Burmanpriest. I immediately despatched a messenger for him, and in the mean timetook up lodgings in his house, to wait his return. Two or three men andseveral females and children spent the greater part of the afternoon andevening with us, hearing sister M. read from the books which have alreadybeen written in their language. We, however, soon found that we had arrivedin a most unpropitious time; for almost every man in the vicinity was in astate of beastly intoxication.

"On the morning of the 21st, as the chief did not arrive, we concluded toreturn about half way to the river, with a view to exploring the country,and in hopes of meeting the chief on his return, and holding a conferencewith him and several other principal men relative to the objects of themission. Having proceeded as far as we intended, and waited some time invain for his arrival, I concluded to go in person and endeavor to prevailupon him to return, as my business would not allow of protracted absencefrom home. On arriving at the place of the feast we found a large concourseof people, consisting of Burmans, Peguans, Karens, and Toung-thoos, whowere assembled upon an extensive plain to pay the last tribute of respectto a Burman priest that had been some months dead and was now to be burned.The body was mounted upon an immensely large car, decorated according toBurman custom, to which were attached ropes, made of grass, three or fourhundred feet long. With these the car was drawn about the plain, levelling,in its course, every obstacle.

"After some little search we found the chief men, the objects of ourpursuit, but so completely drunk that all attempts to induce them to returnwith us were entirely fruitless. We immediately returned to the house ofthe chief where we had lodged the previous night. In the evening the chiefreturned, but so intoxicated as to be entirely unfit for business.

"We rose early on the morning of the 22d to take advantage of the effectof the night's rest upon our host, and obtained the privilege of a fewminutes' conversation. He gave us permission to build in any place we sawfit to select; but before I had fixed upon a place he was again missing.After selecting a place and making the necessary preparations for building,I prepared to return to Maulmain. Until this time our dear sister Macomberhad borne the trials of the journey and the prospect of being leftalone without the least appearance of shrinking; but when the moment ofseparation came, the thought of being left, without a friend in the midstof a drunken people, and even in the house of a man completely besottedwith ardent spirits, and at a distance of thirty miles or more from anycivilized society, with scarcely a sufficient knowledge of the language tomake known her wants, was too much for the delicate feelings of a femaleto endure; and she could only give vent to the emotions of her heart bya flood of tears. She soon, however, recovered her self-possession, andresolved to cast herself upon the merciful protection of her heavenlyFather, and to pursue what seemed to her to be the path of duty."

But the laborer did not long toil in vain. In less than one year, a churchof natives, converted through her instrumentality, was formed and placedunder the care of Rev. Mr. Stephens. The people changed beneath theinfluence of divine grace. Intemperance, sensuality, and other vicesgradually disappeared; and morality, solemnity, virtue, and religion tooktheir places. The Sabbath day was respected; and in the jungle and thicketthe voice of prayer was often heard. Jesus and the cross received thought;and the great idea of salvation by grace was pondered and believed.

In a few months the little church planted through her instrumentalitynumbered more than twenty persons, who continued faithful in the dutiesand practices of the disciples. Her feelings towards the little band ofChristians gathered by her in the very wilderness of sin are represented ashaving been very strong and earnest. Her language was, when speaking of thechurch,—

"For her my tears shall fall,
For her my prayers ascend,
To her my toils and cares be given,
Till toils and cares shall end."

She was an intelligent missionary. Her mind was of superior order, andreason held even balance. Her zeal for the truth was not a blind, headlongenthusiasm, which sparkles, and glitters, and comes to an end, but a zealfounded on the wants and woes of a perishing world. She measured the depthsof heathen degradation and estimated the worth of souls, and went to workcalmly, philosophically, and earnestly.

The faith which she carried forth was well studied and fully understood.She had a reason to give for the hope which was in her and which she sofondly cherished. She was able to defend it—to develop its glories—toshow its superiority to any and all the forms of heathenism. The kindnessof her own heart led her not only to appreciate the superior excellence ofthe gospel, but also to feel most deeply for the degraded Karens. Toweringfar above them in the majesty of intellect and the grandeur of thought, shesought to inspire them with feelings kindred to her own. Her high ambitionwas, to lift the race from its fallen position, save the people fromtheir prevalent vices, enlighten the minds of the young, and improve andregenerate the hearts of all.

She thought it not inconsistent with her true dignity, as a womanpossessing a high order of intellect, to bring her mind into contact withthe most degraded of the human family, if by so doing she could be themeans of saving some and improving others. Hence she studied to dogood. The energies of her mind were placed under contribution to furnisharguments by which the heathen mind might be convinced and the heathenheart subdued. She met the strongest objections to the new faith; sheanswered the questions of the cavilling priest; she reasoned with thecommon people from the law and the gospel, until enough were converted toform a church of our Lord Jesus.

She was a laborious missionary. All our missionaries are laborers. Thework itself compels toil; and it cannot be avoided. But few go into it withan idea of ease and personal aggrandizement; and that few are disappointed.The great enterprise is in itself a hardship; and however cheerfully itmay be borne for Jesus and a dying world, it cannot be carried on withoutimmense labor and sacrifice on the part of the missionaries.

But the noble woman of whom we write was in labors more abundant. Sheeven went beyond what was expected of a most faithful servant of God: sheexerted herself to an extent which but few others have done, and gathereda reward in proportion to her labors. Others have suffered more and hada more checkered life; but none have put forth greater exertions toaccomplish a given result.

Indeed, the spectacle of a weak, friendless, lone woman removing fromMaulmain to Dong-Yahn, and there, with no husband, no father, no brother,establishing public worship, opening her house for prayer and praise, andgathering schools in the midst of wild and unlettered natives, is one fullof moral grandeur. The idea of performing such a work alone, the idea of adefenceless woman going into a besotted nation, among a drunken, sensualpeople, and lifting them up to the privileges of a refined faith, a purereligion, is an idea worthy of an angel. This idea entered the mind of oursubject, became a part of herself, and was carried out in her life.

Not content with sitting down and teaching all who came to her, she wentout to the surrounding tribes, and, for miles around, preached salvationto the dying. In these excursions she was generally attended by one or twoconverts, who formed her escort and guard, and performed that part of thelabor which could not be brought within the province of woman. In thisheroic and romantic manner she travelled from place to place, fordingrivers, crossing deep ravines, climbing high hills and mountains, enteringthe dwellings of the poor, sitting beside the bed of the dying, rebukingthe sinful, and every where preaching the doctrines of salvation.

The spectacle was one which affected even the heathen heart; and thisestimable woman was respected and loved even by those who scorned thegospel and hated Christ. She had "a more excellent way;" and thatexcellence was exhibited in every step of her progress. As she approachedthe towns and villages, on her excursions of mercy, she was often met byenthusiastic crowds, who welcomed her with joy, and led her to the homes ofthe dying, and besought her aid. Most females would have fainted under hertoils and turned back from the amount of work to be performed; but giftedwith wisdom and strength from on high, endowed with powers not her own,she continued until a church was gathered and the foundation laid for aprosperous mission.

She was a pious missionary. Doubtless much of the success which crownedthe efforts of Miss Macomber must be attributed, not to the brilliancyof her intellect, not to the vigor of her mind, not to the vast laborperformed, but to the piety of her heart. It was this which induced herto go out; she had no other motive in leaving home and all the joys ofkindred and native land. It was this that induced her to plant the crosswhere the name of Jesus had not been preached; to go alone, a friendlesswoman, in the midst of savages; to brave sickness, disease, and deathitself, in order to utter notes of salvation which should fall on dyingears like strains from heaven. It was this which sent her, like an angel ofmercy, to the homes of the weary, to the abodes of sickness, to the hovelsof want, to dens of crime, to whisper rebuke in one place and consolationin another.

She gave ample evidence that her heart had been baptized in the HolySpirit; that her mind had come into contact with the great truths ofrevelation; that she had been to the cross and received an impulse from thespectacle of death there witnessed; that her heart had bled at scenes ofwoe which every where abound on heathen soil; that, in the majesty ofhumble faith and trust in the Divinity, she had resolved to die in the holywork to which God and the church had assigned her.

We not unfrequently behold the most lovely exhibitions of piety inChristian communities. We see religion doing its holy work in the lives ofits professors; we contemplate instances of piety and devotion which seemto be more of heaven than earth; but never can be witnessed in Christianlands those sublime trophies of godliness which we find on shores which arecovered with heathen abomination. We must leave home, we must cross theocean, we must follow Harriet Newell through all her sufferings, until shefinds an early grave. We must follow Ann H. Judson to the dungeons of Ava,to the damp, cold prisons of the East, to her home of suffering anddeath. We must trace the course of Miss Macomber from Maulmain to hernew residence at Dong-Yahn; we must see her on her excursions into thesurrounding province, and listen to her teachings as around her a rudegroup gather to hear of Jesus.

Here is piety in its most lovely form. Here is godliness in its most divineattire. Here is pure religion, which is undefiled before God. In thesecases we see what cannot be witnessed at home, and what thousands of piouswomen would shrink from as impracticable and impossible.

Amid such scenes as these Miss Macomber seems to rise above the measure ofa human being, and gain a likeness to Him who went about doing good. Sheappears superior to the infirmities of humanity, because she was engaged inan employment so nearly resembling that of her divine Master, and performedit with so much of the excellence and beauty of his spirit and grace.

Perhaps no better description of Miss Macomber as a laborer in the vineyardof her Lord can be given than she herself furnishes in her printedletters, which are found scattered through the missionary magazines of thedenomination to which she belonged.

"DONG-YAHN, April 15, 1837.

"A line to you the last of December left me at this place, in the houseof a Karen chief, waiting the building of my own, and giving what littlereligious instruction my knowledge of the language would admit. I have nowthe happiness to inform you that the excitement, which I then attributedwholly to novelty, proved to be a gracious influence of the Holy Spirit. Anumber of these poor, dark heathen, who were then bound in Satan's doublechain, (idolatry and drunkenness,) have been liberated and brought into theglorious liberty of the gospel of Christ, and are now rejoicing in hope ofthe glory of God. Ten have been baptized, four men and six women; and anumber of others, I trust, will ere long seek the blessed privilege. Manyare still inquiring, and some, I trust, earnestly seeking. But manyare opposing, reviling, and persecuting; and a few are indifferent andunconcerned.

"The progress of the work has been deeply interesting to all who have beenacquainted with it, and particularly so to myself. Never were the powerand mercy of God more manifestly displayed, and never did his saving graceshine through a more feeble instrumentality. But God can work according tohis will; and, blessed be his name, the heathen shall be given to his Son.

"Our first baptism was on the 12th of January. Chung-pau, a man ratheradvanced in years, but of a sound, good mind, and who has thus farmanifested a most devoted spirit, had from the first listened with uncommoninterest; and I think I shall never forget the sensations it gave me whenhe would come and sit down by me, and, with a countenance which bespoke asoul awakened to the interest of eternal realities, would ask, 'What is itto believe? What can I do to believe? I want to escape hell and obtainheaven. I wish to trust in Jesus Christ. What shall I do?' O, what would Ihave given in that moment for an easy use of the language! But I said whatI could; and the Spirit taught him as man could not.

"On the 21st of January brother Osgood came up again, and had the happinessto baptize six more; viz., Ah-wah and wife, Bah-mee and wife, and Ko-peeand wife; and Mr. Judson baptized three of the chief's daughters on the16th of March, one only about twelve years old. All gave good evidence of agracious change, and have since manifested a growing devotion to thecause. A number of others of the chief's children, I trust, have been madepartakers of divine grace, and will ere long enter the visible church. Oneof those baptized was married; and although her husband made no objectionsto her baptism, yet he immediately left her. She has two young children,whom her father has added to his eleven; and it is truly interesting to seethe care he personally takes of them. Bah-mee has also been turned off byhis widowed mother without a spoonful of rice for his family, (wife and twochildren;) and yet I hear not a hard or murmuring word. They seem to takeit as a thing of course, that, if they will be disciples, they mustsuffer persecution.

"When I consider these and many other things which these dear Christiansmeet with, I cannot but admire the power of divine grace, and find newcause to bless God for light and civilization.

"The men baptized all expressed a great desire to devote their future livesto the service of God in making known his great salvation to those who wereignorant of it. They have uniformly manifested the same spirit ever since,and have been very useful so far as they knew. I have spared no pains ingiving them every opportunity in my power for religious instruction; andtheir progress has been truly pleasing. The chief and Bah-mee both readPeguan well, and Burman some; and have now learned to read and writetheir own language. The former is about forty, of respectable talents andconsiderable influence. Bah-mee, who I think is an uncommonly able man, isabout thirty; was in the priest's office three years, but left them someyears ago; and when I came here was fast pursuing the drunkard's road withall the others. Ko-pee is but little over twenty, but has a wife and twochildren. He knows nothing of letters, but possesses a quick, discerningmind, and a lovely disposition. He is learning to read; and I am makinggreat efforts to have the old man (Chung-pau) learn to read. I hope to getthem all to Maulmain during the rains, that they may have better advantagesfor religious instruction, and that those who can may get a good knowledgeof Burman books. They all understand considerable of the language; and itwill be long before there will be books to any extent in their own. It hasall the time seemed to me an indication of designs of great mercy towardsthis people that men of such qualifications should be called just at thecommencement of labors amongst them; and I trust that God will so directthat they may accomplish much for the salvation of their countrymen and theglory of his name.

"I have had two or three Burman assistants constantly, who not only go outin the vicinity, accompanied by some of the Karens, and preach daily,but make excursions of four or five days in the villages, amongst themountains, preaching the gospel to Toung-thoos, Peguans, or Burmans, asthey happen to meet with them. I have made it my personal business to gowith some of them; so that I have visited all the families within six orseven miles once or twice. I trust that these labors, though feeble, havenot been in vain. I can speak but little of the language; but keeping aKaren with me, who is accustomed to my broken speeches, I give him ideaswhich he explains; and have been comforted and happy in the work, thoughattended with much fatigue and exposure.

"These things have not gone forward without opposition, as you will readilysuppose. Besides all that would be expected from a numerous and deeplyinterested priesthood, we have had the fierce and violent opposition of ayoung prophet, who started up just before my arrival, and is located abouta mile from me. He renounces a little of Boodhism and adds some otherthings; is unlettered and of no marked character; and yet he has many verydevoted adherents. It is believed, however, by the best judges that he willbe of short continuance. He effectually evades every effort to make himhear the gospel. His followers do not permit us to ascend the ladder intohis house; and I have been out sometimes two or three days in succession,and have not been permitted to enter more than ten or twelve houses. It wasfatiguing and painful to be exposed to the sun or hot air so long, andto find a seat as I could on the ground; but I was never comfortless orunhappy, assured that I was going at the bidding of Him who exposed hislife unto death for a guilty world.

"We have had morning and evening worship from the first, and four or fiveexercises on the Sabbath, usually in Peguan, interpreted into Karen.I often ask questions at the close. A school has been sustained by myteacher, who, though very incompetent, has done very well. We have about adozen scholars, as none will come who are opposed to us."

The following letter was written at Dong-Yahn February 5, 1838, andpublished shortly afterwards in this country:—

"The work of God is still going on here. Three men requested baptismlast Sabbath, and a number more will soon come forward. This is the moreencouraging, as, just now, there is an unusual effort of the adversary toput the cause down. It is the season for funeral festivals; and for fifteenor twenty days they have been in constant celebration, which of courseattracts much attention. But the priests, not finding their coffers so wellfilled as usual, have seemed to make an effort as for life; and there is noend to the fog of worthless stuff which comes from them. It would seem thatthere was very little else said or done than what their violence calledforth. No one of the Christians can go abroad but they hear from everyquarter 'Jesus Christ,' by way of contempt; and all who attend ourmeetings receive the same treatment unless they join the rabble. So thatwhen any of them decide to come out and face the whole, which to a heathenis mountainous, there is strong evidence that divine grace has takenpossession of their hearts.

"One woman had made up her mind to come forward, but said she feared shecould not endure to be cast off, not only by her parents and relatives, butby the whole village, as they had told her they would do. So she concludedto wait and see how her mind was when the others were baptized.

"Have been absent considerably of late, wishing to visit all the villagesjust about the mountain. Found ten or twelve places of some importance:this, however, is the largest and most important, except Tun-pah-tine,where we have one convert, and where I spent four days last week. There aresome encouraging indications there; but the chiefs will not yet consentto my building a zayat. I am trying to get some of the converts to go andbuild there; but they are so timid and deficient in energy that, if left tothemselves, I do not know that they would ever go out of their own village;though they never hesitate to go wherever I direct them. But in this case Iwish them to take some responsibility.

"We have now an applicant for baptism from Puh-ong, a young man who hassome excellent qualifications for usefulness. There are also two or threeencouraging cases in Tun-loh, five or six miles distant, as also in someother directions; but the future is unknown.

"Our meeting is beginning to attract more attention, so that our room isoften crowded; consequently I have engaged the chief to put on an additionof a few feet, which will be done this week.

"All the Christians seem to be getting on well, Bah-mee is my principalpreacher. He certainly does admirably, considering what he was a year ago;but I find it necessary to see him, look over every subject, and give himall the ideas I wish to have advanced.

"There are constant rumors of robberies on the river, which of courseprevent our doing any thing here."

Under date of July 30, 1838, we find the following article:—

"I still find much comfort and encouragement in trying to lead Karens inthe path of knowledge and salvation. At the same time, I have constantcause to mourn over their defects and errors, which require not a littlewatchfulness and anxiety; but even in this I find a pleasure, having theassurance that I am not alone.

"In regard to the state of things at Dong-Yahn, Ko My-at-yaw, whom I leftin charge, informs me that about all remain as when I left. The three orfour who were rather hopeful still seem to be inquiring; opposition isabout the same. There has been another attempt to burn the house, butunsuccessful. I have very little expectation that it will stand tillmy return; but this is but a secondary cause of anxiety. Their seemingdetermination to go down to eternal death causes me, at times, exquisitepain. O, when will they turn and live?

"The native Christians have generally, from the first, appeared remarkablyfirm and steadfast; and although some cases have required discipline, yetnot one has had the appearance of contemplated or wilful sin. One poorold man alone, twelve or fifteen miles off, was overcome, by the longsolicitation of a numerous family and under peculiar circ*mstances, so asto eat in a feast made to appease evil spirits; but he immediately camedown here, confessed, and appeared truly humbled; said he did not forgetGod any moment, or cease to love him; but to be at peace with friends, heate. I directed him to return and prove his sincerity by a future uprightwalk, and when we all returned, at the close of the rains, we would consulttogether on his case. There have been some other similar cases in regard todrinking—an evil which I fear more than all others.

"Agreeably to our earnest prayer, there seems to be an opening amongst thePgwos at Bassein. I have prepared an assistant (Telaw) and family to goover to Rangoon two or three times; but they have been providentiallyprevented. We now wait with anxiety to hear from that quarter in regard topolitical affairs."

In November of the same year she writes as follows: "I may have mentionedthat there had been attempts to burn the house and zayat at Dong-Yahn whenwe were in it. Since the rains ceased the attempt has been again repeatedand considerable damage done; but I understand the chief thinks he canrepair it for the dry season with but little expense; and I expect to buildbefore another season, as the house was of the kind which usually lasts buttwo years. I thought it probable that the first attempt was in consequenceof the increase of our number—brother and sister Brayton being then there;but now believe it was owing to a settled enmity to the gospel of Christ.

"Should not the power of God be displayed in changing the hearts of theperpetrators, or they be found out, I expect to be annoyed all the comingseason, and have but little hope of keeping a house standing. Still, thecause is God's; the hearts of men are in his hands. He can subdue them; andI believe he will, and that the gospel will yet triumph at Dong-Yahn. Ithas already done wonders; and the time cannot be far distant when the enemywill be put to silence. Two or three of the assistants have just returnedfrom there, and give the most cheering accounts of the attention of numbersto the word. They say that the three or four inquirers appear well, andtalk of being baptized. The chief, who remains there constantly, is verymuch encouraged, and appears truly devoted to the cause of Christ. KoMy-at-yan is also there; rather old and feeble, but a faithful laborer.

"I am not a little comforted in seeing the zeal and increased efficiencywith which the natives go to their work since leaving school, (about sixweeks ago.) Ko Chung-paw, Telaw, and Bah-mee have been out in differentdirections, and bring pleasing accounts. They spent three weeks in one townon a branch of the Dah Gyieng. They say they every where met with Karens;but they are very much scattered and very poor, having lately emigratedfrom the Shyán country, three or four days over the mountains. The Karens,to an individual, listened well, though Boodhists; and many expressed adesire to receive further instruction, so as to become Christians. An agedpriest, highly esteemed among them, and who does not conform to all thecustoms of the Burman priests, would not release them short of two days, soanxious was he to hear. They left the Testament and other Burman books, andKo Chung-paw gave him his eyeglasses. The old priest sent me presents anda request to visit them. I attempted to visit that region last season; butreports of robberies on the rivers prevented. It is not more than fouror five tides from here. The assistants have just been sent to make themanother visit, and to tell them that, if they wish for instruction, theymust build a zayat."

At the close of the same year our laborious missionary gives to hersupporters and patrons the following summary view of the Dong-Yahn station,with which she was connected, and in the prosperity of which she was somuch interested:—

"I shall ever rejoice in what I have witnessed of the power of divine graceamongst the heathen. A number of precious souls have been rescued fromSatan's power; and one, I trust, has gone home to heaven, though notpermitted to join the church below.

"The native Christians here now number twenty-three, twelve of whomhave been baptized the present year. A few are still inquiring; but themultitude are going on the broad way to eternal death.

"During the dry season the assistants visited, more than once, all thevillages about these mountains; and I think, from what I could judge byspending most of the time with them, the truth was faithfully declaredand the way of life made plain. At Tunpuhtine and Puhaung some have beengathered in; at Tunlopun are some hopeful cases, as well as at Pahleen andPompeah.

"Evening and morning worship has been kept up all the time, and worship onthe Sabbath, with Sabbath schools, &c.

"Bah-mee, whom I selected for the purpose from amongst the first converts,and who has thus far justified my expectations, has been my principal meansof communication with the people. I have taken unwearied pains withhim, giving him every means in my power for instruction; and I am dailycomforted in seeing that it has not been in vain. He is much engaged aboutthe vicinity we lately visited, on a branch of the Dah Gyieng, and I trusthis labors there have been blessed. But experience has often shown thatnatives, however efficient with teachers, are but children if left alone.

"Ko Chung-paw, two years ago, was fast going down the declivity of life inall the darkness of heathenism; but a ray of heavenly light darted acrosshis path, arrested his attention, and soon kindled to a flame. Now, I maysay, he is a 'burning and a shining light;' one to whom we often point as awitness of the power and purity of the religion of Jesus Christ."

Miss Macomber died in April, 1840. The closing scenes of her life were fullof sadness and full of glory. Her death was deeply lamented by those whoknew her worth; and many of the Dong-Yahn women came to her funeral,crying, "The mamma is dead! the mamma is dead!" and with wails of sorrowsurrounded her grave. They had listened to her counsels, they hadexperienced her kindness, they had partaken of her hospitality; and, thoughmany of them did not love the Savior, they mourned the fall of his servant.Their nation had sustained an irreparable loss; and they came to pay theirlast tribute of respect to the ashes of the departed. The last hours ofMiss Macomber are thus described by Rev. S. M. Osgood, who was at Maulmainat the time of her death. The account, from the pen of one who witnessedthe whole scene, will be read with deep interest. Mr. Osgood says,—

"It becomes my painful duty to announce to you the death of our dear sisterE. Macomber, who died with jungle fever on the evening of the 16th instant,after an illness of nine days aged thirty-nine years.

"On the 9th of March Miss Macomber came down from Dong-Yahn with brotherStevens, and on the morning of the 10th left us again, with a view to visita body of Pgwo Karens, residing high up one of the rivers. She had alsoa particular reference to spending the hottest part of the season on theriver, having suffered much from the extreme heat at Dong-Yahn during thehot season last year. On the 4th instant she returned from this excursion,having enjoyed excellent health and a peculiarly pleasant season in laborfor the good of the souls of the Karens, many of whom listened with muchinterest, and were 'almost persuaded to be Christians.'

"She arrived here late in the evening, and appeared quite well, with theexception of a slight cold, which she said she had taken that evening.On Sunday, the 5th, she complained of headache, but not so severe as toprevent her attendance upon the usual religious exercises of the day; andon Monday, after spending some hours with me in the bazaar, she left,and started on her return to Dong-Yahn. Before she arrived, however, herillness grew more violent, and, though it subsequently abated for a time,became again so decided that on the following Wednesday she was removed tothis place by Christian Karens for the purpose of obtaining medical aid.Nothing remarkable or alarming was then discovered in her symptoms; andDoctor Charlton, the medical gentleman who was called in, expressed thefullest confidence that her disease would yield to the ordinary course oftreatment, and that she would soon be able to resume her labors. But shethought otherwise; and although she did not express any conviction duringtwo or three of the first days that the disease would prove fatal, sheafterwards told me repeatedly that she had not from the first had the leastexpectation of recovery.

"On Saturday, the 11th instant, she, with the greatest composure, attendedto the settlement of her temporal affairs, and then seemed to feel thather work was done. Her mind was perfectly clear and calm to the last; andduring her whole illness she was a lovely example of Christian fortitude,patience, and resignation. Her faith was unwavering; and consequently shewas enabled to look forward to the period of her dissolution with evidentpleasure, and with the fullest conviction that death was but the door toendless bliss. I asked her if she felt any reluctance to die; and shereplied, 'I have not the least. It is a pleasure to think of dying. I shallsee much of what I have recently thought a little of—the glory of God andthe love of Christ. When I think of the dear Karen disciples I feel forthem, and would be willing to stay with them a little longer; but if it isthe Lord's will that I should leave them, I have nothing to say. Tell myfriends I am not sorry that I came to this country or that I came alone. Ihave suffered for nothing which they could have supplied me with. I havefound kind friends to take care of me.' She appeared upon the whole ratheranxious to die, and to die soon. The morning before her death, althoughnone of us thought she was so near her end, she was heard to pray, 'O myMaster, take me to thyself this day.' While in the agony of death she said,'Why cannot I be released?' But when one remarked, 'The Lord's time is thebest time,' she replied, 'Yes;' and after a few minutes more she quietlyfell asleep in Jesus.

"The dear Karen Christian disciples have suffered a great loss, which theymost deeply feel. Brother Stevens and I visited them a few days subsequentto her death and found them overwhelmed with grief, but at the same timeresolved to trust in the Lord and go forward. They are a lovely band, andapparently as well grounded in the principles of religion as could beexpected of any so recently converted from heathenism."

Thus parted with earth one of the most devoted servants of God. She hasgone up on high to receive her reward. By her death the heathen lost a mostfaithful friend, the Missionary Union lost a most devoted laborer, and thecause of Christ parted with a most zealous advocate.

And shall we weep? No; death has gained no victory. God and the Christianhave triumphed over death and the grave.

"Well we know her living faith
Had the power to conquer death;
As a living rose may bloom
By the borders of the tomb."

Her life was short, and her sun went down while it was yet day. But shortas her stay on earth was, she was enabled to do much good; and in eternitymany will rise up to call her blessed.

SARAH D. COMSTOCK, OF BURMAH.

The Burman empire has witnessed the death scene of some of the mostillustrious women who have ever lived. It is the graveyard in which theirbodies have been laid to rest after the spirits have departed. It willcontinue to be a spot of melancholy interest as long as the ashes ofdeparted saints are deemed of value by the Christian world; and thosegraves will remain the silent pledges that Burmah will never be abandoned,as a field of missionary exertion, until missionary exertion shall be nolonger necessary. The soil in which such choice spirits find rest, thegroves in which they seek shelter, the flower which blossoms, and the treewhich waves its branches over them, are all sacred in the estimation ofthose who love God and delight in the glory of his kingdom. Senseless asthey are, they assist in forming a shelter for honored dust, over whichmonuments of marble, with letters of gold and silver, are not worthy torise. When Mrs. Comstock died another name was added to the gloriouscatalogue of the fallen—not fallen, but ascended. Another grave was made,from which, on the morning of the resurrection, will come forth a glorifiedone, to shine in the crown of the Savior forever.

Sarah Davis Comstock was a native of Brookline, Massachusetts. She was thedaughter of Robert S. Davis, of the Baptist church in that place. In thehouse of her father her youthful days were passed, and there she receivedthe mental and moral education which fitted her to labor for the souls ofthe heathen. In early life she found the Savior, and during her residencein America gave full evidence of a pious, self-denying spirit.

Previous to his sailing for the East, Mr. Comstock selected her for hiscompanion, and with a martyr spirit she determined to bear the sacrificeand endure the toil. She was married to Mr. C., and in the act gave herselfnot only to him, but to the cause of Christ—to all the sufferings incidentto a life in Burmah.

They, in company with several other elected missionaries, were publiclyconsecrated to the work in June, 1834, and sailed immediately for theirfield of labor. The services of consecration, on the 28th of June, occurredin the Baldwin Place Church, in Boston, and were of thrilling interest.Meetings had been held during the day in another church, at which Rev. Mr.Wade and the converts from heathenism, Ko Chet-thing and Moung Sway-moung,had spoken. Indeed, the whole of the previous week had been given tomissionary exercises and missionary sympathy; and when the evening of theSabbath came, the spacious church was densely crowded with an eager andholy throng. Rev. Dr. Wayland delivered an eloquent address of more than anhour's length; after which the missionaries were instructed by Dr. Bolles,secretary of the American Baptist Board, under whose patronage they were tobe sent out. When their instructions had been given, Mr. Wade replied inbehalf of his brethren and sisters who were so soon to leave our shores.The whole scene was one of deep interest; and many were the prayers offeredto God in behalf of that company of devoted Christians. In these delightfulservices Dr. Comstock, father of Rev. Grover S. Comstock, one of themissionaries, and Rev. Dr. Wisner, secretary of the American Board,participated; and in the crowded house there were several missionariesconnected with other denominations, who looked on with thrilling interestand satisfaction. One who witnessed the scene and heard the addresses whichwere given speaks of the occasion as follows:—

"At seven o'clock, notwithstanding the weather, that spacious building wascrowded to excess, above and below; hundreds were standing through thewhole service and hundreds retiring from the house because there was noteven a place to stand. To be present among those thousands on such anoccasion, once in a life, were to stamp that life with an impression towhich language is not equal. What, then, must have been felt by each ofthese missionaries, by their relatives and friends, by those angels whor*joice over one sinner that repenteth, and whose prophetic thoughts wouldconnect this preparatory hour with the repentance of myriads in a distantclime, and age after age?

"We did not wonder, therefore, to hear Dr. Wayland's address open with aconfession of the inadequacy of speech to do justice to the thoughts andfeelings that fill the soul to overflowing at such an hour. And whilelistening to his lofty, bold, beautiful, and we may add emphaticallyscriptural delineation of the objects, qualifications, and duties ofa Christian missionary,—a delineation that made every other object andcharacter than that of the Christian dwindle into utter insignificance inthe comparison,—we felt as did Peter on the mount of glorious vision: 'Itis good to be here.' And the thought more than once occurred to us, Howwould the late venerable Baldwin have enjoyed this scene!

"We were struck by the remark of Mr. Wade, that, while he regarded theprayers of Christians in this country as indispensable to the success ofthe mission, he could not but fear that prayers such as he had sometimesheard would avail them or their offerers little. The fervor of love,the expectancy of hope, and the persevering constancy of faith were thespiritual qualities wanted. Could they not be obtained?

"In the farewell of Ko Chet-thing and Moung Sway-moung there was asimplicity and pious warmth that went to the heart. They were grateful forthe unspeakable blessings of the gospel sent to them when in darkness, andhappy alike that they had been permitted of God to see the land where theseed grew; that they were now about to return to plant and rear the treeof the gospel in Burmah; and that they could hope hereafter to meet theirChristian friends of America in heaven."

The closing hymn, which was sung by the choir and congregation with fineeffect, was written for the occasion by one of the sweetest writers amongAmerican poets.

Native land!—in summer smiling,—
Hill and valley, grove and stream;
Home! whose nameless charms beguiling,
Peaceful nursed our infant dream;
Haunts! to which our childhood hasted,
Where the earliest wild flowers grew;
Church! where Christ's free grace we tasted,
Graved on memory's page,—Adieu!

Mother! who hast watched our pillow
In thy tender, sleepless love,
Lo, we dare the crosted billow;
Mother, put thy trust above.
Father! from thy guidance turning,
O'er the deep our way we take;
Keep the prayerful incense burning
On thine altar, for our sake.

Brothers! sisters! more than ever
Are our fond affections twined,
As that hallowed bond we sever
Which the hand of Nature joined.
But the cry of Burmah's anguish
Through our inmost hearts doth sound;
Countless souls in misery languish;
We would fly to heal their wound.

Burmah! we would soothe thy weeping;
Take us to thy sultry breast;
Where thy sainted dust is sleeping
Let us share a kindred rest.
Friends! this span of life is fleeting;
Hark! the harps of angels swell;
Think of that eternal meeting,
Where no voice shall say, Farewell!
Mrs. L. H. Sigourney.

On the morning of Wednesday, July 2, the good ship Cashmere, CaptainHallet, bore them from our shores, some of them to return no more. Therewere on board Mr. and Mrs. Comstock, Mr. and Mrs. Dean, Mr. and Mrs.Vinton, Mr. and Mrs. Howard, Mr. and Mrs. Wade, Mr. and Mrs. Osgood,Miss Gardener and the Eastern converts, all belonging to the Baptistdenomination; together with Dr. Bradley and wife and Miss White, belongingto the stations of the A.B.C.F.M.

The morning dawned in beauty and loveliness; and, as the sun rolled up thesky, a crowd of people were seen assembling on the wharf. Soon from thedeck of the vessel was heard the melodious but firm voice of Rev. Dr.Sharp, in prayer to God, pleading for those who were now to committhemselves to the perils of the deep. Hymns were sung, kind words werespoken, Christian greetings were exchanged, and farewell embraces given;and, amid sobs, and tears, and prayers, the vessel swung off from hermoorings. As she floated out gently into the harbor the vast crowd on shorecommenced singing the hymn of Bishop Heber,—

"From Greenland's icy mountains,
From India's coral strand."

This hymn was scarcely finished, and the last echo was yet upon the air,when from the ship was heard another song. Voices which seemed divineunited in another hymn, and, as holy stillness gathered over the people,they heard repeated by the departing missionaries the lines of Rev. S.F.Smith:—

"Yes, my native land, I love thee;
All thy scenes, I love them well."

Such hymns, sung under such circ*mstances, by such men and women,must have produced joy and rapture among the ransomed spirits on high; anddoubtless Jesus, man's ascended Savior, looked down upon his followers withdivine approval.

The Cashmere anchored before Amherst on the 5th of December, and themissionaries were warmly greeted by Dr. Judson and his associates. Afterremaining awhile at Amherst and Maulmain, Mr. Comstock and wife proceededto the province of Arracan, which was to be the field of their labors; andon the 26th of February, 1835, it being the Sabbath, they performed theirfirst missionary duty in Arracan. On the 4th of March they arrived at KyoukPhyoo, from which place Mr. Comstock writes an interesting letter, giving adescription of the field of labor in which he and his companion were to beengaged. The interest of this sketch will be increased by a perusal of thatdescription in the language of the author himself:—

"As this province is a new field of labor, perhaps a short account of itwill not be uninteresting. It is situated on the eastern shore of the Bayof Bengal, and extends from 15 deg. 54' to 20 deg. 51' north latitude. Itswidth is very variable. At the northern part of the province it is aboutninety miles wide, while the width at the extreme southern point is but twoor three miles. Probably the average width is something less than fiftymiles. It is bounded on the north by the Province of Chittagong, on theeast by the Burman empire, and on the south and west by the Bay of Bengal.An extensive range of mountains is the boundary between Arracan and Burmah,over which are several passes—one to Ava, one to Prome, another toBassein, &c. Only the first is very much travelled. By this we are onlysix or eight days' journey from Ava. A good deal of this province ismountainous, and much of the rest is jungle or uncultivated land. Thepeople live in small villages, which are scattered over the whole province.The population, according to the government census, I do not exactly know;but it must be something less than two hundred and fifty thousand. It isvery difficult, however, to ascertain the population, as the people willdeceive all they can, to avoid taxes, which were very oppressive under theBurman government, and are not very light now. A great deal of itinerantlabor must be performed here, as the inhabitants are so scattered; and muchmust be done by tracts. Two or three laborers besides brother Simonsand myself should enter this field as soon as may be. The province issubdivided into four subordinate jurisdictions, called districts. Thenorthern one, Akyab, is the largest. Here is brother Fink, with his nativechurch; and here, I believe, brother Simons intends to settle. The Ramreedistrict is the next in size. It consists of Ramree Island, about fortymiles long, and on an average about fifteen wide, extending from 18 deg.51' to 19 deg. 24' north latitude of Cheduba Island, lying a short distanceto the south-west of Ramree, which is eighteen miles long and fourteenwide, and of several smaller islands. There are in the district threehundred and seventy-four villages and about seventy thousand inhabitants.This is the field of labor I occupy. Kyouk Phyoo is on the northern pointof Ramree Island; and, though not as central or as large as some otherplaces, is, on some accounts, a very desirable station."

In his labors Mr. C. found a valuable help in Mrs. C., who with unreserveddiligence devoted herself to the duties of her station in different partsof Arracan. Though not exposed to the trials and dangers which attendedthe efforts of the first missionaries, yet in labors abundant and faithunwavering she certainly was.

There is mentioned of her a most beautiful incident which occurred whenabout to part with her children, who were to visit America to commence acourse of instruction not to be obtained in Burmah. When the vessel wasabout to sail, and Mr. Kincaid, who was to conduct them to this country,was ready to go on board, Mrs. Comstock took her two children and led themforth towards the ocean which would soon part her from them forever, and,kissing the cheek of each, committed them to the care of Him who holds thestorms in his hand and controls the tempests as he will. It cost a strugglesuch only as a mother's heart can feel and realize; and, as she kissed themfor the last time and gave them to her husband, she turned her streamingeyes to heaven and exclaimed, "O Jesus, I do this for thee!"

It was the last time. The vessel spread her canvas to the gales of heaven,and the children of the devoted woman were wafted from her, to see her faceno more; and when next they meet, it will be before the great white throne,where the secrets of all hearts will be revealed, and where the Savior willplace upon the head of his servant a crown of glory, and declare, in thehearing of an assembled world, "This, beloved disciple, I do for thee!"

It will be a delightful recompense for all the trials, inflictions, andsufferings of a missionary life, and will more than compensate the mostself-sacrificing of all earth's children for the most toilsome labors, themost severe trials. Far happier will be he whose brow is encircled withsuch a crown than he who in this life is hailed as a royal emperor and ledin chains of gold from throne to throne, from kingdom to kingdom.

One of our poets has thrown this beautiful incident into rhyme. One verseof his poem we repeat:—

"One burning kiss, one wild good by;
Put off, put off from shore!
In mercy to the mother fly,
And swiftly waft them from her eye,
For she can bear no more!
She knelt and cried, as o'er the sea
Faded their forms like sunset ray,
'O Savior, I do this for thee!'
And, sobbing, turned away."

The faith of Mrs. Comstock was strong. She believed that the efforts ofChristian philanthropy would be attended by the desired blessing, and thatArracan would lift up its hands to God and implore the love of Jesus uponher prostrate sons. In a letter from Ramree, written only a few monthsbefore her death, she wrote as follows: "I believe these hills and valesof Arraean will yet leap at the 'sound of the church-going bell,' and thehundreds and thousands of her children will be seen coming up from everycity, village, and hamlet, with united heart and voice, to the worship ofthe great Jehovah. It may not be in my day; but my children may see it.God grant that they may be privileged in hastening it on. We see but littlefruit of our labors, i.e., so far as converts are concerned, but see theseed germinating. It is not dead—it will yet spring up; yes, this veryseed we are now sowing will spring up and yield a glorious harvest."

With this confident expectation she labored on until the hand of death cameto close her labors and lead her away to her infinite reward. In whateverpart of Arracan she was, she was zealous to do the will of her Master, andseemed governed by a firm determination to glory in nothing but the crossof Jesus. Whether at Kyouk Phyoo, at Akyab, or at Ramree, or any of theother spots of toil and denial, she was faithful to the great workassigned her. She never lost sight of the object to accomplish which shehad been sent out to a heathen land.

She departed this life on the 28th of April, 1843. Her disease was themalignant dysentery, which is peculiar to the climate. Her two children,lovely little boys, followed her to the grave; and in three months theywere laid to rest by her side. About two hundred inhabitants of the Ramreedistrict attended her funeral; and when the disconsolate husband had goneto his deserted home they remained and poured forth their sorrow over thenew-made grave. Her death exerted a deep and powerful influence on theminds of the natives; and some were led to prepare to meet God by seekingthe mercy of his Son.

The touching account of the death of his companion we give in Mr. C.'sown words: "For several months past Mrs. Comstock had been blessed withunusually good health; and we had repeatedly spoken with gratitude of thegoodness of God in granting us so long an exemption from sickness. Wehoped, too, that we should be permitted to labor more vigorously anduninterruptedly for the good of the heathen than we had been able to do.She had just completed a Book for Mothers, which, I think, was greatlyneeded, and will, I trust, prove very useful. She was contemplating a workfor children, and had begun to inquire for scholars to attend during therains, just at hand. We had, too, already decided to spend a month or twoearly in the cold season at Cheduba, and then take a tour of a month to Avaand the villages on the way thither. Our prospects for the future appearedto be unusually encouraging; and we fondly hoped that we should bepermitted to see many turning unto the Lord in Arracan. We did not,however, forget that death might destroy all our plans, and often conversedtogether freely on the probability that one of us might be called speedilyinto eternity. She had no fear of death nor any anxiety as to the timeor manner of her departure, but only spoke of it as affecting our futurecourse.

"She was taken ill on Saturday, April 22. Our English doctor was thenabsent from Ramree; but, had he been here, we should not, probably, havethought it necessary to call him, as Mrs. C. had prescribed for manysimilar cases with entire success. On Monday I saw that her disease wasvery severe and obstinate, and asked her if I had not better call theMussulman doctor who is left in charge here when the English one is absent.He came Tuesday morning. He prescribed for her, but wished the Englishdoctor sent for; and I despatched a messenger for him. He arrived early onWednesday morning, and faithfully and assiduously tried every remedy toarrest the disease, but in vain. On Friday evening, the 28th, at eighto'clock, she very suddenly expired. Occasionally there were slight symptomsof amendment; and I fondly hoped, to the very last, that she might recover.A minute or two before her death she took some nourishment, and remarkedthat she thought she should soon regain her strength. I trusted that itmight be so, and stepped on to the veranda to say to the native Christiansthat there was still a little reason to hope. I heard her speak, andhastened to her just in time to see her sink back upon her pillow, and.without a struggle or even a gasp, breathe her last.

"The body was immediately surrounded by weeping and wailing heathen women,who felt that they had lost a friend. Such indeed was the case; for Mrs.C. truly pitied and loved the women of Arracan, and was never happier thanwhen telling them of the Savior. On the day after her death, as the newsspread in the town, men, women, and children (more of the last two) beganto crowd to my house; and it was estimated that about two thousand werehere during the day. Their expressions of attachment to my dear wife and ofsorrow for her loss were deeply affecting. 'How kindly she always spoke tome when she met me!' 'She always gave us medicine when we were sick.' 'Shewas truly a good woman.' 'She came here to die, far from her native land,with no mother or sister near her, because she pitied us.' Expressionssimilar to these were made and listened to with many tears. I remarkedonce, 'What crowds are pressing to the house! Are all from the town?' Abystander replied, 'Yes; as the news spreads all will be here, for shewas greatly beloved.' Another added, 'Many tears will be shed in Ramreeto-day.'

"I was surprised and deeply affected to witness such manifestations offeeling among the heathen towards a Christian missionary. They more firmlyconvinced me that she had not lived in vain, but had exerted an extensiveand salutary influence, which, I doubt not, will be powerfully felt inpreparing the way of the Lord here. Her labors, too, I trust, will provethe means of salvation to many souls. She was a most conscientious andlaborious missionary. The rains before last she had a school, to whichshe devoted a good deal of time; translated the Scripture Catechism,administered medicine to the sick, conversed with the women who were dailycalling at the house, and taught her own children, besides attending tohousehold duties. She was from daylight till nine o'clock at eveningconstantly engrossed with labors and cares. As far as her own feelings wereconcerned, she would have delighted uniformly to be as active and busy asshe then was.

"She was not, however, always called to such constant and severe labor, butuniformly did what she could. Whenever women came to the house she felt ither duty to leave all and go and tell them of the Savior; and I recollectthat in a few instances, when she was so engaged that she could not at oncego to them, and they left without hearing of Christ, she was very muchgrieved on account of it. If I was not at hand, she conversed with themen, too. Towards evening, when she could be out, she might often befound seated on a rice mortar, with half a dozen women around her, in theadjoining villages. Attention to the sick, also, demanded a good dealof her time and thought. I have known her to give medicine to twentyapplicants in a day. She was always anxious to accompany me in my tours tothe villages during the cold season; but circ*mstances usually preventedit. She would have prepared more works for the press but for a feelingof extreme self-depreciation, which led her to think that she was notcompetent to prepare a book fit to be printed. The Scripture Catechism andMother's Book are both, I think, calculated to do much good. She not onlylabored faithfully, but prayed fervently, and with tears, for the salvationof the heathen. She has, however, entered into her rest; her labors andprayers have ceased; and I am left alone to train my children up for Godand to do what I can to win the heathen to Christ. The Lord has thusdecided; and he does all things well. I am enabled to say, in sincerityI trust, 'Thy will be done.' I have lost a most affectionate and amiablewife, my children have lost a kind and faithful mother, and a prayerful anddiligent laborer is lost to the cause of missions; but I will not repine ormurmur. The Lord is as rich in mercy as he is infinite in wisdom; and lethim do what seemeth good in his sight. I need not ask the sympathy andprayers for the members of the Board and other friends, for I feel assuredthat I shall have them. Pray, not only that my affliction may be greatlysanctified to my spiritual good and to the good of other friends and othermissionaries, but also that the death of my dear wife may be made the meansof life to many souls in Arracan. Several appear tender, and seem to recallthe instructions she has given them."

Mr. Comstock did not long survive her. In about one year from the time hiswife was taken from her toils his earthly joys and sorrows closed, and hewent up on high. Borne down by anxiety, care, and affliction, he died April24, 1844. He was the third son of Rev. Oliver C. Comstock, of Michigan.He graduated at Hamilton Institution in 1827. For a while he studiedand practised law in the city of Rochester, where he was becoming verysuccessful as a counsellor. But God had another station for him tooccupy—a wide field of usefulness for him to fill. In the winter of 1831he was led to view himself as a sinner and embrace Jesus as his Savior.He became a member of the First Baptist Church, and was baptized by hisvenerated father. Soon he became convinced that the Christian ministrydemanded his exertions and powers. He soon removed to Hamilton and enteredthe theological class, and at once commenced preparing himself forlabors in Burmah, and soon went forth to do the will of God in wild anduncultivated regions. But his afflictions were many—his toils great—hisyears few. He died ere the desire of his heart had been realized. Heascended to heaven ere the field given him to cultivate was seen blossomingas the rose.

Called by God, he left the path to earthly honor and distinction andentered the scorned and despised service of the crucified One, and in thatservice found an early grave. He saw his beloved companion go down to thetomb; he saw two darling babes laid beside her; and, panting for the lovedones, he himself went down into the sepulchre.

Here ends the record of a family sacrificed on the altar of Christianbenevolence; a record written with tears of sorrow and anguish, yetgleaming with signs of glory; a record which even the cold cynic mightrespect, and the stoic read with emotions of wonder and admiration.

"Patriots have toiled, and in their country's cause
Bled nobly; and their deeds, as they deserve,
Receive proud recompense. We give in charge
Their names to the sweet lyre. The Historic Muse,
Proud of the treasure, marches with it down
To latest times; and Sculpture, in her turn,
Gives bond in stone and ever-during brass
To guard them and immortalize her trust.
But fairer wreaths are due, though never paid,
To those who, posted at the shrine of Truth,
Have fallen in her defence."

HENRIETTA SHUCK, OF CHINA.

The Celestial empire has become an object of great interest. Its vastextent, its swarming inhabitants, its peculiar customs, its steadyresistance of modern inventions, and its obstinate defiance ofChristianity, all draw upon it the gaze of the Christian world. The timewas when China was barred and bolted against the truth; when on her soilcould be found no teacher of the true faith; when a high wall separatedthe ignorant inhabitants from the rest of the world. But the wall has beenthrown down; the obstacles in the way of Christianity have in many casesbeen removed; and China is open to the footsteps of the man of God.

Following the leadings of divine Providence, good men of variousdenominations have planted mission stations within the hallowed enclosuresof the proud monarch of that great empire, and in the midst of superstitionand abomination planted the saving cross.

The station to which Mrs. Shuck belonged was under the control of theBaptist Missionary Convention. It was at Macao, a beautiful peninsula, fourmiles in length, peopled with about forty thousand Chinese and Portuguese.Mrs. Shuck describes the climate as delightful and the situation ofthe place beautifully romantic. Though destitute of many of the dearassociations connected with stations in and about Palestine, yet to a mindlike that of Mrs. S. there was much in the wild beauty of the scenery andthe strange customs of the people to interest and please; and all herletters give evidence that in that spot she found a home where she couldlabor with pleasure to herself and profit to others around her.

But she was not destined to spend all her days at Macao. The providence ofGod soon suggested a removal to Hong Kong, forty miles east of Macao. Herown health seemed to require such a step, as the unprotected state of thepeninsula was fast wearing her into the grave. Certain advantageous offerswere also made, and a prospect of increased usefulness presented to herhusband; and in 1842 Mr. Shuck bade farewell to his old field of labor, andentered upon one where the prospect of success was much more abundant.

The maiden name of Mrs. Shuck was Henrietta Hall. Her father was Rev.Addison Hall, a faithful, devoted minister of the gospel. Her mother wasdaughter of Colonel Elias Edmonds, of Virginia. They were both remarkablefor intelligence and piety, and were universally esteemed. They weremembers of the Moratico Baptist Church, having been received by Rev. S. L.Straughan.

On the 28th of October, 1817, Henrietta was born in the beautiful littlevillage of Kilmarnock, but a few miles from the rolling waves of ChesapeakeBay. Her early days were spent near this beautiful spot, where she wasknown as a frank, amiable, kind-hearted girl. Her youth was passed with herparents, who exerted themselves to expand her mind and improve her heart.To the fond hearts of the parents she was an object of tender solicitudeand care, and they longed to see her brought to the feet of the Lord Jesus.

In 1831 extensive revivals were enjoyed throughout the country, and inthese revivals Virginia largely shared. It was during this year that MissHall was converted. A camp meeting was being held near her birthplace, inwhich her father was much interested; and feeling that moral and religioustraining was much more important than intellectual culture, he sent for hisdaughter, who was attending school at Fredericksburg, to return home andenjoy the privileges of the work of grace. She came, not thinking of thechange which was soon to take place in her moral character. Young andhappy, she put far off the evil day; and the awful conviction that she wasa sinner had not produced any serious impression upon her mind. But God'shand was in her timely return, and his grace had marked her as one of itschoicest subjects. She no sooner commenced attending the meeting than shebegan to feel the force of truth and hear the voice of the Spirit and themonitions of the Holy Ghost. Under the solemn presentation of the sinner'slost condition, young Henrietta began to realize that she was lost withouta Savior. The fact was before her mind day and night, and she found norest. True, she had lived on earth but a short time, and, when comparedwith others, had committed but few sins; but these few were aggravated andoverwhelming. God she had not loved; Christ she had not embraced. She hadviolated the wise and holy law of the universe, and, to complete the workof woe, had rejected the blood of the Son of God. She had a view of sin asGod presents, it in his word; and when she saw herself as a sinner, thecontemplation was crushing and terrible. But these feelings of deep anguishdid not long continue. God heard her cries of penitence, and for the sakeof Christ forgave all the past, and caused joy, like a deep, strong tide,to flow into her soul. Her rapture was as ecstatic as her sorrow had beenoppressive; and on the listening ear of her sister penitents she poured thestory of her change from death to life.

She was baptized on the 2nd of September, 1831, by Rev. J. B. Jeter. It wasa holy spectacle. The youthful candidate for the sublime ordinance was notyet fourteen years of age; and, as she descended the bank and entered theflood, a deep and awful silence gathered over the crowded shores. The voiceof mirth and profanity was hushed; and to many a heart came the spirittone, "This is the way; walk ye in it." As she came up out of the water acheerful smile was seen playing upon her countenance, which told of sweetand precious peace and delightful communion with her Maker. The pastorwho administered the ordinance, the church which received her to itsfellowship, the anxious parents, have had no reason to regret the importantstep then taken; and though they must have seen her baptized with fear andtrembling lest she should in her youth be deceived and eventually return tothe cold and heartless service of the world, yet they commended her to thatBeing who is able and faithful to keep all who are committed to his care.Nor did the world with its curling lip and contemptuous tone ever tell howthe youthful disciple witnessed a good profession and afterwards denied it.

A few months after her baptism Henrietta was called to part with herbeloved mother, who died in December of the same year. To the youngChristian this bereavement was full of sorrow and full of blessing. Whileit deprived her of a mother's counsels and prayers, while it took from herone to whom she had looked for maternal sympathy and encouragement, ittaught her the uncertainty of life, threw her more upon herself and on herSavior, placed a greater weight of care upon her, and thus fitted her forthe duties which she afterwards performed so faithfully as a missionary ofthe cross.

In the early part of 1835, or the latter part of the year preceding, MissHall became acquainted with her future husband, who had recently decided tobecome a missionary in the East. He made, with an offer of marriage, theproposal of a missionary life. She had not then reached her eighteenthyear, and was a young, freehearted girl, who knew but little of toil oranxiety. Her extreme youth caused her to hesitate; and she accepted theproposal only when it appeared to be a solemn and imperious duty. Hermind wandered forward to the parting with her dear parent and other fondfriends; to the tender farewell at sailing; to long years of labor, perhapsof suffering, in China; to a rude home there, and perhaps a grave. Thenfollowed the prospect of usefulness; the hope of saving souls from deathand doing a work of benevolence on soil not before cultivated by theChristian laborer. And perhaps with these were some vague and romanticnotions about a missionary life and a missionary home. Youth is fond ofnew and strange objects; and our heroine doubtless became attracted by thenovelty and romance of the life she was to live. Strange were it not so inthe ardor and inexperience of youthful piety; and the fact that romancecasts its sombre shadow over the pious missionary female, as she leaveshome and native land, detracts but little from the admiration with which wegaze upon her lofty career. The oldest, most prudent, man seldom fails ofbeing interested in such enterprises by their novelty; and should we castaway all around whom it gathers its strange witchery, few would be left totoil for human good. He who moves above all such motives must have a mindperfectly trained and a heart perfectly alive to the glory of God. After adue consideration of the subject, Miss Hall decided to go forth a servantof her Master. She was married to Rev. J. Lewis Shuck on the 8th ofSeptember, 1835. The service was performed by Rev. H. Keeling, in the cityof Richmond. On the 10th Mr. S. and Rev. R. D. Davenport were consecratedto the work of God in one of the Baptist churches in the same city, andsoon after embarked for Boston, one to sail for China and the other forSiam. The vessel in which passage had been engaged for Mr. and Mrs. Shuckwas the Louvre, which was to carry out a large delegation of missionaries.They sailed on the 22d of September, a beautiful day, on which Natureseemed to have bestowed her charms in profusion. On board were elevenordained ministers, who were leaving, home to do good in distant lands.Among these was Rev. Howard Malcom, D. D., who went out at the request ofthe Baptist Triennial Convention to visit the stations of that denominationand advise and encourage the toilers in the East. The large number ofministers on board, one of them having long been an esteemed pastor of aflourishing church, drew together an immense crowd of pious people, whocame to exchange parting tokens and give the parting hand to the faithfulbrethren and sisters who were about to fulfil the command of our ascendedSavior—"Go ye into all the world and preach the gospel to every creature."The wharf was crowded with people; and the rigging of vessels in the harborwas filled with strong men, who looked with strange feelings upon a sightthe like of which is seldom witnessed. The hour arrived. The ship swung offfrom her moorings and floated down the harbor. One sail after another wasthrown out to the breath of heaven; and in beautiful style the vessel wasborne onward and soon lost from sight. The spectators slowly and sadlyreturned to their homes, praying the God of ocean and storm to keep theprecious cargo safe from danger.

To Mrs. S. the voyage was not a pleasant one. A violent seasicknesscommenced as soon as she left the Harbor of Boston and continued a longtime. This was succeeded by sickness of other kinds, and the whole voyagewas spent in suffering. In her published letters to her friends she givesthrilling descriptions of her sorrow, and declares that while she did notdream of half the suffering which she had experienced, yet the same voyagewould she take again, were there no other way to reach her field of labor.Admirable woman! Worn down with sickness and scarcely able to hold thepen, she writes the sentence at a time when we would suppose she would beshrinking back and ready to faint.

On the 4th of February, 1836, anchor was cast at Kedgeree, nearly a hundredmiles below Calcutta. At night they all disembarked and for the first timeslept on heathen soil. From Kedgeree they sailed along to Amherst, wheresleep the forms of Mrs. Judson and her babe in the silence of the grave.What were the feelings of Mrs. Shuck as she stood there over the spot sodear to every pious heart, or plucked a small branch of the "hopia tree" tosend home to her sire, we do not know; but doubtless her mind was filledwith sad forebodings and awful thoughts. "Am I to sleep in such a grave? beburied away from home, with such a tree as this to wave over me?" "Am I tofall in China, and see my friends no more? Have I looked upon the shores ofAmerica for the last time?" Questions like these must have been suggestedto her as she stood with her husband beside the grave of Burmah'sproto-martyr.

After stopping a while at Maulmain and Singapore, the missionaries arrivedat Macao in November, 1836, and here commenced immediate preparation toengage in the gospel work. Their first son was born shortly before theirarrival at Macao. They called him Lewis, for his father. On the 29th ofOctober the second son was born, who was named Ryland Keeling. With thesetwo babes around her, the labor of the mother was materially increased andessentially changed. Her own family required more of her care, and gave herless time and opportunity to do good abroad. Yet, with her family asit was, she is said to have found much time for the usual purposes ofmissionary life, and was zealously engaged in plans for the spiritualimprovement of those around her.

While at Macao her heart was cheered by hearing that God was pouring outhis Spirit in her own dear land; that he was converting sinners, and amongthem some who had been her intimate friends. Her own sisters were led togive their hearts to God; and when the intelligence crossed the deep,and was told in the hearing of the sad and perhaps almost discouragedmissionary, her joy knew no bounds. It was as a cup of cold water to onedying with thirst; and the letter which brought the tidings was read overand over again, and frequently bathed in tears of joy. Her letters to hersisters express her deep interest in their spiritual welfare. She pleadswith them by the love of Jesus that they be faithful to the Savior of theirsouls and walk worthy of Him who has bought them with his own blood. Todo this, she urges them to study the word of God, and be constant in thecloset, and meditate much upon spiritual things, and watch and guardthe heart from temptation and sin. Nor does she forget to recommend thecultivation of a missionary spirit, but, with all the eloquence of asister's love, urges them to do good as they have opportunity.

In January, 1837, Mr. Shuck baptized the first man who had been convertedthrough his agency. His name was Ah Loo. [+] For about a year previous[Footnote +: The baptism of Ah Loo is thus described by Mr. Shuck: "Atseven o'clock this evening we repaired to the water; and although thenatural sun was not permitted to attest this first baptismal scene inChina, yet the effulgence of the Sun of Righteousness shone upon us; and ifever we felt his genial rays, it was then. Contrary to our expectations, wedid not go half so far as we anticipated, but stopped upon the beach at asuitable place, within a few rods-of a large Portuguese fort with mountedramparts. Here, in broken sentences, we united our hearts in prayer to Godthat he would forgive—our weakness and many imperfections, and grant ushis smile and heavenly grace now and during our whole lives. Then handingmy cap and cane to Mrs. Shuck, who stood on the bank, the only earthlywitness of the joyful event, I had the privilege of burying with Christ inbaptism this willing convert from heathenism, being the first Chinese thatwas ever baptized within the confines of this vast and idolatrous empire."]to his baptism he lived as cook in the mission family. During the yearhe became greatly attached to those whom he served, and would let noopportunity pass without showing his gratitude. They, of course, instructedhim in the principles of the Christian religion. He was a willing learner,and soon gave evidence of being a changed, regenerated man. Yet themissionary was cautious, and for a long time held back his disciple; but atlength, convinced of the genuineness of his conversion, led him down intothe flowing tide and baptized him. This event was an occasion of great joyto our sister, who, with her husband, had done so much to enlighten thepoor idolatrous Chinaman. Ah Loo maintained a constant walk for a longtime; but at length, temptation proving too powerful for him, he wasovercome, and sinned against God. This fall was full of sorrow to themissionaries, as his conversion had been full of joy and hope; and when thenews came that he had disgraced his high profession and wronged his blessedSavior, they bowed their hearts in sadness, and prayed to Heaven that thewanderer might yet be restored and the straying child brought back to theFather's arms.

In 1841 Mrs. Shuck gave birth to a beautiful little daughter, who wascalled Henrietta Layton, for her mother, and a family by the latter namewho had been exceeding kind to them during all their residence at Macao. Tojustify her course in conferring this name instead of one selected from hernumerous friends in America, she relates numberless instances of kindnesson the part of the family alluded to; instances of kindness without whichthe missionary family would have been put to considerable inconvenienceand perhaps acute suffering. In 1842 Mr. Shuck removed to Hong Kong. Theprovidence of God clearly indicated this as the path of duty; and thoughthe separation with pleasant acquaintances at Macao was trying, the stepwas cheerfully taken. A beautiful spot was selected for a chapel, and moneyraised with which to erect it; and the divine blessing manifestly attendedevery step. To complete the work, Mr. Shuck made great sacrifices andpractised great self-denial. He employed his own funds, expended his ownmeans, to complete the work; and deemed it no sacrifice, though he wasoften deprived of the comforts of life. He was well aware that God wouldprosper him; and though he knew not how, he rested in the confident hopethat he would ultimately receive at the hand of God far more than he hadexpended in his service,

The health of Mrs. S., instead of improving, seemed to fail at Hong Kong,and no means which were taken could restore it. Physicians were consultedand journeys made, but all to no purpose. The hand of disease was laidheavily upon her sinking system; and day by day her eye became more dim andher cheek more bloodless. Still she labored on, and counted it her meat anddrink to do the will of her divine Master. Her language was,—

"Shall I be carried to the skies
On flowery beds of ease,
While others fought to win the prize
And sailed through bloody seas?"

Mrs. S., according to her biographer, seemed to have premonitions ofher death. For a whole year previous to the occurrence of the event theconviction was deepening in her mind that her race was well nigh run andher days nearly finished. The idea that something was soon to arrive, andthat something to be of importance to her, weighed upon her mind. Filledwith emotions which such a presentiment was calculated to produce, she madepreparation for the grave. She endeavored to have her family arrangementsmade so that she could depart at a moment's notice. She was also ledto prayer and self-consecration; and her heart, as well as her familyarrangements, was in order. The premonitions which many persons supposethey have are generally the results of an excited fancy, and as often provefalse as true. Every person may find in his or her daily life many eventswhich appear mysterious; and should importance be attached to them, weshould be rendered miserable. Many are alarmed at the breaking of a mirrorthe crowing of a bird at midnight, the sudden extinguishing of a lamp bythe wind, and other things equally as simple. These common occurrences areto them omens of approaching evil, and they allow them to have all theinfluence of reality. Whether they prove true or false, they are sourcesto the superstitious of unhappiness. With Mrs. S. there appeared to be anindefinable impression, which might have arisen from the precarious stateof her health and from the fact that the period of her fifth confinementwas rapidly hastening, and it was doubtful if she could endure the trialsof such an occurrence in her weak and debilitated condition. But, whatevermay have been the cause of her forebodings, they were acted upon as facts:and had she known of her death with absolute certainty, she could not havemade more temporal and spiritual preparation for it.

At three o'clock on the morning of the 27th of November, 1844, she died.The evening previous to her death was spent in prayer with her husband andchildren. Early on the night of the 26th, the long-expected and dreadedevent announced itself by the premonitory symptoms. The physician wassummoned, and the dear friends anxiously awaited the result. But nature wasunable to sustain the fearful burden imposed upon it, and gradually gaveway until the hour mentioned, when the spirit was released and all wasover.

"Vital spark of heavenly flame,
Quit, O, quit this mortal frame;
Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying,
O, the pain, the bliss, of dying!
Cease, fond nature, cease thy strife,
And let me languish into life."

It was hard for the husband to give up his companion under such tryingcirc*mstances, and harder still to have her die without the utterance of asingle expression; but who that knew her life would doubt the character ofthe thoughts which crowded thick and fast upon her mind as the time ofher departure was at hand? Religion was her life; and the last words sheuttered were of high and holy import. A few hours before she died shecalled her husband to her couch and asked him to kneel in prayer. He didso, and to every expression of love to Jesus she responded by the warmpressure of his hand. We cannot doubt the evidence which such a saintgives; and though the last hour may be spent in a silence which nothingdisturbs but the sobs of friends, we can leave the cold clay in the tomb,with the sweet consolation of knowing that the ransomed spirit has fledto a land of holy rest. We can say,—

"How blest the righteous when she dies,
When sinks a weary soul to rest!
How mildly beam the closing eyes!
How gently heaves th' expiring breast!"

The funeral of Mrs. Shuck was attended from her late home, and she wasborne to the grave by the European police corps, who volunteered theirservices for the occasion. There have been cases in which missionary womenhave died and had only one to follow them to the grave. On some occasionsthe husband has prepared the shroud, made the coffin, dug the grave, andfollowed the corpse to the tomb, accompanied only by a weeping, motherlesschild, or by the unseen One, who said, "Lo, I am with you always, even untothe end." But on this occasion there were many mourners. A large companyfollowed to the grave in which her remains were placed. The religiousservice on the occasion was performed by Rev. Mr. Devan. At the grave Rev.Mr. Brown offered prayer and made appropriate remarks to the crowd whoassembled.

Thus mysteriously departed on the passage of death a most worthy andbeloved wife, a fond mother, and a faithful Christian. There were manycirc*mstances connected with her death to make it a sad one. Her husbandwas not the only sufferer by the dreadful bereavement. Five motherlesschildren were left among strangers in a strange land; and from many whohad experienced her kindness went up a wail of lamentation over her earlygrave.

One who knew her well, and who labored for Jesus and the dying heathenin the same land, [Footnote: Rev. William Dean.] writes of her asfollows: "She was married to Rev. Mr. Shuck in 1835, and in September ofthe same year sailed with her husband, in company with a large number ofmissionaries, for the East. They remained in Singapore four months,where their eldest son was born, and in September, 1836, arrived inChina. They remained in Macao till March, 1842, when they removed toHong Kong. While at Macao they were allowed to prosecute the study oflanguage, the instruction of youth, and teaching the people. On theirarrival at Hong Kong they were prepared to renew their labors on anenlarged scale and without restraint. Chapels were erected, assembliescollected, and schools gathered from the Chinese; and while her husbandlabored among the former, Mrs. Shuck instructed the latter. Shepossessed considerable knowledge of the written language, and stillgreater familiarity with the colloquial of the Chinese, and devotedjoyfully and successfully her acquirements, time, and talents to theinterests of the mission. During the last year of her life a new schoolhouse had been erected and a school gathered under her care of twentyChinese boys and six girls, besides her own four children; making, inall, thirty under her supervision. In this work she took the greatestinterest, and all the time and strength which could be spared from thecare of her family and the culture of her own children were joyfullydevoted to the instruction of the children of the heathen. Her prospectsof usefulness had never been greater, and her heart had never been moreencouraged, than during the last year of her life. But in the midst ofher highest hopes, while children were seeking instruction, the heathenwere inquiring the way to Christ, and the general prospects of themission were brightening, and herself in comfortable health and activelife, she was cut down in a single night, and her family overwhelmedwith grief and the mission again overshadowed with gloom.

"Under the influence of a secret conviction that her end was near, she had'set her house in order,' and was prepared for the event; while, atthe same time, she prosecuted her daily duties with her accustomedcheerfulness, and laid out plans for labor which would have required a longlife to perform.

"It is a matter of devout gratitude to the wise Disposer of all events,that, just before the death of Mrs. Shuck, her particular friends, Dr.and Mrs. Devan, should become members of her family; and now the fivemotherless children may find in Mrs. Devan one so well qualified andso sincerely desirous of supplying, to the extent of her power, theirirreparable loss. Mrs. D. will also act as the superintendent of the schoolfor Chinese children. The friends of the mission will unite their prayersthat life may be preserved and health and grace may be adequate to theresponsibilities and duties of the station she is by such a mysterious andpainful providence so unexpectedly called to occupy.

"Mrs. Shuck left her father's house and native land in her eighteenth year,and, by thus giving the freshness of her youth to the cause of Christ andthe good of the heathen, has left us the best proof of the purity of herfaith and the sincerity of her piety. During her eight years' residencein China she has done much for the happiness of her family and to aid herhusband in his work, besides giving much direct instruction to thosearound her. Her house was ever open to the stranger, and her heart eversympathized with the needy and afflicted, and her hands were diligentlyemployed in acts of kindness and charity."

Let us now draw the veil over the scene, and bow our hearts to the superiorwisdom of Him who cannot err; and, while we lament for the early fallen,may we pray the Lord of the harvest to send forth new laborers into hisvineyard. The heathen are not yet converted, the world is not yet redeemed,the throne of Satan is not yet overturned.

"O'er the realms of pagan darkness
Let the eye of pity gaze;
See the kindreds of the people
Lost in sin's bewildering maze!
Darkness brooding
O'er the face of all the earth."

Impressed by the terrible aspect of the world, let the contemplation ofmissionary biography urge us on to missionary labors and missionary piety,until the voice of joy and praise shall resound from pole to pole.

SARAH B. JUDSON, OF BURMAH.

Ralph and Abiah Hall lived in quiet Alstead, New Hampshire. On the morningof November 4, 1803, their first child was born. They named her Sarah, inmemory of a deceased relative. While in her youth the parents removed fromNew Hampshire to Massachusetts, and established themselves in Salem, wherethe younger days of our subject were spent. Of her childhood but littlecan be said. She was like other children, and spent her time in a childishmanner; and connected with her early years were but few circ*mstances ofany special interest.

Up to her sixteenth year she seems to have had but few convictions of sin.The great subject of the soul's salvation, if presented at all, made slightimpression upon her mind and heart. The warnings and invitations of thegospel were alike unheeded, and she lived until this period in sinfulthoughtlessness. In 1820 she found hope in the Savior, and on the 4th ofJune made a public profession of religion, and in the presence of a greatcongregation gave herself away to God and to his people. The solemn, awfulstep she fully realized; and when she was led down into her baptismalsepulchre, and buried there, her heart was fully given up to God. Thevenerable and departed Dr. Bolles administered the ordinance, and receivedher by the impressive rite of "fellowship" to the First Baptist Church inSalem, of which he was then pastor.

At that time the missionary spirit was beginning to pervade the churches ofAmerica and exert its holy influence upon the minds of the members. YoungSarah Hall caught the holy enthusiasm. Just converted, fresh from thepublic vows of consecration, the anxious question, "Lord, what wilt thouhave me to do?" upon her lips, she was in the exact frame of mind bestadapted to be moulded by holy zeal for a dying race.

The feelings which struggled in her soul found utterance through thecolumns of the Christian Watchman in various prose and poetic effusions.These articles do not exhibit any extraordinary poetic merit. They hardlydo credit to her real abilities. Bearing the marks of haste, these earlyproductions never gave any peculiar pleasure to the authoress; but for deepfeeling and pathos they are remarkable. They seem to be the outgushings ofa soul stirred up with holy enthusiasm and flowing out in channels of itsown formation. She evidently wrote, not for the severity of the critic, butfor the warm heart of the Christian; not to awaken feelings of admiration,but to kindle up the flame of divine animation; not to win fame forherself, but to inspire others with love for the perishing.

One of these poems was the instrument in bringing her into an acquaintancewith George D. Boardman, her future husband. The poem was upon the deathof Coleman, whose fall in a distant land, ere he had buckled the armor on,produced feelings of sadness in the hearts of all American Christians.Boardman saw it, and his soul was moved by it. Who the writer was he didnot know, but determined to discover, if possible, what heart kept timewith the wild beatings of his own. The first verse of that poem runs asfollows:—

"'Tis the voice of deep sorrow from India's shore;
The flower of our churches is withered, is dead!
The gem that shone brightly will sparkle no more,
And the tears of the Christian profusely are shed.
Two youths of Columbia, with hearts glowing warm,
Embarked on the billows far distant to rove,
To bear to the nations all wrapped in thick gloom
The lamp of the gospel—the message of love.
But Wheelook now slumbers beneath the cold wave;
And Coleman lies low in the dank, cheerless grave:

Mourn, daughters of Arracan, mourn!
The rays of that star, clear and bright,
That so sweetly on Chittagong shone,
Are shrouded in black clouds of night;
For Coleman is gone!"

Mr. Boardman at once determined to discover the writer of these thrillinglines, and in a short time was enabled to trace them to the pen of MissHall. Ere he had seen her who was to be the companion of his arduouslabors, the sharer of his success, and the attendant of his dying bed, heseems to have sought for the youthful authoress with a kind of intuitionthat God had fitted her to be his companion. Nor was he disappointed on anacquaintance with his young friend. He found her in possession of an activemind, a warm heart, and an agreeable person. He made proposals to herimmediately, and requested her company to the heathen world. To suchan enterprise all her friends were averse. To Mr. Boardman they had noobjection; but the idea of sending out the flower of their family to witherand die on heathen soil they could not endure. The parents were oppressedwith sorrow at what they considered the wild and romantic notions of theirchild, and for a long time withheld all consent, and steadfastly resistedevery movement towards a missionary life. And when the daughter did gaintheir permission, it came like water wrung from the solid rock. These piouspeople did not understand the claim which God has upon the services of allhis children; they did not understand the honor and glory of having a childin heathen lands laboring for the salvation of the dying; they did not knowwhat a halo of light would in after years be thrown around the name of herwho was about to embark on the perilous voyage; and when she left them theylooked upon her as buried out of their sight.

Probably much of Miss Hall's enthusiasm in the missionary work was caughtfrom Mrs. Judson, who visited this country in 1823. They became acquaintedshortly after the arrival of Mrs. J., and continued correspondence as longas she remained in America; and when she sailed forth again, to return nomore, no prayer of greater fervency was offered for her safety and successthan was breathed forth by young Sarah Hall, who was so soon to follow herillustrious example in scenes of trial and self-devotion.

George D. Boardman and Sarah Hall were married in Salem, by Rev. LuciusBolles, D.D., on the 3d day of July, 1825. Her personal appearance wasgood. Though not positively handsome, her countenance was agreeable andprepossessing. She usually wore a pleasant smile; and an air of franknessand ingenuous openness was a peculiar characteristic. She was affable andcourteous, with sufficient dignity and grace. We may, however, suppose herhusband to have been more attracted by her intellect and heart than by theoutward ornament of person.

The vessel which conveyed Mr. and Mrs. Boardman to the "shades of moraldeath" sailed from Boston in 1825; and in due time the missionaries arrivedin Calcutta. Here they remained nearly two years, employed in missionarywork and doing good as they had opportunity. On the 17th of April, 1827,they entered Amherst, and found there the grave of Ann H. Judson and thebending form of her bereaved husband. That good man's trials were not at anend. His dear daughter Maria was dying; and Boardman's own hand formed herlittle coffin, and dug her grave, and supported the trembling form of thefather, when his child, the daughter of the sainted mother and wife, waslaid to rest.

While at Calcutta, the union of husband and wife was cemented by the birthof the first child—a daughter, whom they called Sarah Ann. The occurrenceof this event, while it withdrew the devoted mother from the labors andtoils of her missionary life, awakened in her bosom feelings which hadnever been stirred there before. A new world of thought and action wasbefore her mind; and, to use her own language, she "was another creature."On his arrival at Amherst Boardman conferred with the other missionaries,who, after mature deliberation, advised him to commence labors at Maulmain,about twenty-five miles from Amherst, to which place he proceeded with hislittle family. Soon a bamboo house was erected for him, and his work ofself-denial and suffering commenced. They were annoyed in various ways bythe natives, and several times were plundered by the hordes of robbers thatdescended from the mountains at night and assaulted every dwelling whichpromised considerable booty. Their house was pillaged in this manner but ashort time after they arrived at Maulmain. One night they went to sleep asusual, after committing themselves to the care of Him whose eyes are neverclosed to sleep. Awaking at midnight, Mrs. B. found the lamp, which hadbeen left burning, extinguished, and in the dim moonlight the furniture ofthe room appeared to be in confusion. To light the lamp was but the work ofa moment, on which a fearful scene was presented. Every thing of value hadbeen taken away, and all that remained was in terrible confusion. Duringthis robbery Mr. Boardman was painfully awake to every thing whichtranspired; while his wife, wearied with toil, slept as sweetly as if thevillains who had caused such havoc had been kind attendants on errands ofmercy. And providential was it that she did not awake. While some werecarrying away the property, others stood over the prostrate forms of thesleeping family, ready to murder them if they awoke. Boardman knew itall—he knew that fierce eyes were watching him—that the uplifted weaponwas ready to drink his blood. A single movement on the part of the sleeperswould have brought down that weapon and hurried them from the scene oftheir labors to the bar of Him who had sent them forth to do his work,declaring, "Lo, I am with you alway."

In the early part of 1828 it was deemed advisable for Mr. Boardman toremove to Tavoy, about one hundred and fifty miles south of Maulmain; and,in accordance with certain instructions from the Board, he took up hisresidence there in April. On his arrival he found the "whole city given toidolatry." On every hand were the melancholy evidences of heathen worship,heathen superstition, and heathen cruelty. Gaudama was worshipped by allthe people, and upwards of two hundred priests ministered at the varioustemples. The faithful missionary commenced his labors immediately on hisarrival: his zayat went up within sight of the great pagoda, and daily hesat at the door to instruct the passing population. While at Tavoy, Mrs.Boardman was employed with her domestic duties, and with the instruction ofthe children who could be gathered into the school, which was commenced ontheir arrival. We deem the cares of one's own family enough to employ allthe time of a female in this country; but the labors of Mrs. B., in herfeeble state of health, were augmented, not merely by the children of theboarding school, but also by the care and instruction of the school itself.Uncomplainingly she performed her arduous labors, while day after day herhealth grew poorer and her cheek paler. It was at Tavoy that Ko Thah-byuwas "buried with Christ by baptism." In his early days he had been a verywicked man. His path was stained with blood, and to all around he gaveevidence of his ferocious, bloodthirsty nature. He was converted atMaulmain, and removed with Mr. B. to Tavoy. After his baptism he was a mostfaithful and devoted laborer. His nature seemed to be entirely changed.From being one of the most ferocious and dreadful tyrants, he becamegentle, humble, forgiving, and merciful. His case presents us with awonderful instance of what the gospel can do to soften the savage natureand bring even the most stubborn heart into sweet and willing subjection toour dear Redeemer. He was made a preacher of the gospel which had performedsuch wonders on his heart, and to the day of his death continued a faithfuland devoted minister of the Lord Jesus.

While at Tavoy, a second child was born to this missionary family. Theycalled him George, for his father. He yet lives—perhaps to bear the gospelforth to those who swarm around his father's grave.

At Tavoy, too, little Sarah died, when nearly three years old. This child,the first born, seems to have twined its affections sweetly and tenderlyaround the mother's heart. She was indeed a lovely child. "Her bright-blueeyes and rosy cheeks," her amiable disposition and obedient deportment,won the kindness of all around her. She inherited the warm heart of hermissionary mother, and fond hopes were cherished that she might live tofill her mother's place on heathen ground. But God's ways are not as ourways. He removed the lovely flower, and blasted in an hour all the fondexpectations of her parents. In his infinite wisdom he saw the hinderancethe little one would be to his laboring servant, and in kindness took herto his own arms.

When children die in this loved land they depart in the midst of tears andsighs; kind friends sympathize and pray; the voice of sorrow is heard alongthe line of many dwellings; and in many families is uttered the voice ofgrief. At such times and under such circ*mstances the hand of friendshipand benevolence will be stretched out to assist and perform the little actsof charity which at such an hour come with sweet fragrance to the partingand weary spirit. But when little Sarah closed her eyes in death but fewtears were seen, but few hands of sympathy held out. The broken-heartedmother herself washed the cold form of the dead child and arrayed the palebody in its little shroud.

On the mind of Mrs. Boardman this affliction exerted a most salutaryinfluence. She had admired and adored her child. She loved the preciousgift more than the gracious Being who had bestowed it, and, wrapped up inits possession, imagined it could not be taken from her arms. But whenGod removed the loved and lovely one she began to feel how deeply she haderred, and forthwith restored her supreme affection to the great Creator.Her attention was called from the vain and transitory things of earth; shesaw the narrow limit of human life more plainly than ever; she learned thelessons of mortality; and her sad bereavement became to her torn heart aninestimable blessing. Besides this, the idea that their little family had arepresentative in heaven was unutterably precious; and she feared less thathour when her own labors would be done and that reward entered upon whichis prepared for all who obey God and love his Son Jesus Christ.

To Mrs. Boardman another child was also given, which was called JudsonWade Boardman—a trio of as illustrious names as ever were engraved on therecords of the church militant. He lived but a short time, descending tothe grave leaving another vacant place in the mother's heart.

In 1828 Mr. Boardman determined to leave Tavoy for a while and visit theKaren villages in the interior. He was accompanied by Ko Thah-byu and someother converted Karens. They had heard of him by means of persons who hadvisited Tavoy for business and pleasure, and religious books and tracts hadbeen distributed among the people who had never heard a sermon or seen thepale face of the missionary. As he passed through their villages he wasevery where met with kindness. Food was brought and many valuable presentsgiven him. At one village they found a zayat which the people had put upfor them; and here they tarried and preached and explained the gospelseveral days. Many were converted; God's Spirit was poured out; and ere Mr.B. left the place several came and requested the ordinance of baptism. Thismatter, however, was prudently deferred, that the converts might "learn theway of the Lord more perfectly." He found the people in gross darkness: heleft them with beams of light from the cross strong upon them. He foundthem without the word of God—without the Sabbath—without the way ofsalvation: he left them in the possession of all these good gifts, and atthe end of nine days returned to his family at Tavoy, again to labor andsuffer in the cause of his Master.

One of the most exciting incidents which occurred at Tavoy during the stayof Mr. B. was a rebellion, which commenced on the 9th of August, 1829. TheEnglish had withdrawn most of their soldiers from Tavoy and quartered themat Maulmain. Almost the whole force at the former place consisted of ahundred Sepoys, commanded by a man who, at the moment of the revolt, was,believed to be in the agonies of death. On the 9th, at midnight, themissionary family were aroused by horrid cries around their rude dwelling.Boardman sprang from his bed, and, bending his ear to the open window,heard the cry, "Teacher, Tavoy is in arms! Tavoy is in arms!" In an instantthe ready mind of the missionary comprehended the difficulty and thedanger. He at once aroused his family, and began to prepare for resistanceor flight as the case might require. After a time the insurgents wererepulsed, and, retiring to a distance, took refuge in rear of the missionbuildings; consequently the station was placed between the two contendingparties; and over the heads of the little band the balls whistled, carryingdeath to hated foes. In the morning the Sepoys were driven from the cityand took refuge in the Government House, to which place the missionaryfamily repaired, seizing for this a momentary quiet. Their situation herewas terrible. The house was crowded with women and children: soon it becameunsafe, and the whole party retired to a vacant building, having six rooms,on the margin of the river. Into this house, containing more than a hundredbarrels of powder, were three hundred persons crowded together; whilewithout were heard the wild and frantic yells of the savages, thirsting forblood. On the morning of the 13th Mr. Burney, the civil superintendent, whowas away at the time of the outbreak, returned. To him the whole peoplewere indebted for their safety and their lives. Under his management theSepoys rallied and advanced upon the city, and, after several desperateconflicts, succeeded in driving the insurgents from it and capturingseveral of the leaders in the revolt. The overwhelming number of the foewas not proof against the superior skill of the English; and when thevessel which had been sent to Maulmain for help returned, Major Burney wasin quiet possession of the town.

Mrs. Boardman immediately embarked for Maulmain; to which place her husbandsoon followed her, taking with him all the scholars in the school who werewilling to go. They remained at M. until the mission house was repaired andquiet restored.

From this period up to the time of her husband's last sickness we find butlittle in the history of Mrs. Boardman of a marked character. She laboredon under discouragements and difficulties and amid sickness and sorrow.Often did her own system give way; and more often did her child utter thewail of sickness and distress, and plead for rest and quiet which could notbe granted. During this interval Mr. B. made repeated journeys from Tavoyto Maulmain, and was busily engaged in the great object of his life. He sawto some extent the fruits of his toil; and on his abundant labors Heavenplaced the broad seal of divine approbation. One after another yielded tothe force of truth and bowed in homage to the cross of Christ. He did notdie, like Coleman and Wheelock, ere he had seen the heathen eye overflowwith tears, the heathen heart burst with rapture into life, and the heathenknees bowing, not before Gaudama, but before Jehovah.

During the year 1830 it became evident to all that Mr. Boardman must die.The disease contracted in consequence of sleeping on the cold ground andbeing exposed to the damp fogs of night came on slowly but surely, andall hope of recovery took its flight. Feeling himself that he should soondepart, he called the converts around him and instructed them in the way oflife. Others who had not been baptized he prepared for the ordinance.Three days were devoted to the examination, and eighteen were accepted ascandidates for the holy service. The missionary was unable to rise from hisbed; and many of the questions which he desired to put to these personswere first given to his wife, who, sitting on the bed beside him, put herear to his lips and caught the sound as it struggled for utterance. On the20th of December the baptism took place under circ*mstances of thrillinginterest. The candidates, with the administrator, and the sick teacher,borne on a little cot upon the shoulders of the Karens, passed along to afine lake, into which Moung Ing descended and immersed the young disciples.It was a sight of interest to God and angels; and doubtless they bent overthe scene with holy satisfaction. As they went to the place and as theyreturned the wicked idolaters jeered and scoffed, and heaped theirmaledictions upon the head of the dying Boardman, who in a short time wasto be far beyond the reach of injury and insult.

The administration of the Lord's supper followed the baptismal service, towhich the little church of twenty-seven members sat down, eighteen of themfor the first time. The bread was broken by the trembling, dying hand ofMr. Boardman, who was performing the deed for the last time.

In January, 1831, Mr. and Mrs. Mason arrived at Tavoy, having been sent outto reënforce the mission, and were immediately conducted to the residenceof their dying fellow-laborer. The meeting of the two devoted men and theirwives must have been of deep and solemn interest. One was fresh from theland of his birth, ready to engage with zeal in the Master's work; theother had fought the fight, had kept the faith, had finished the course,and was about to receive the robe of victory and the crown of glory.

Wishing to make one more effort in the cause of his Savior, Mr. Boardmandetermined to visit the village where a short time before he had preachedseveral days and where several persons had been converted. These he wishedto gather into the fold, and, ere his departure, see them buried in theliquid grave. He went forth with his newly-arrived associates and his ownfamily. A company of Karens carried Mr. Boardman on a bed and Mrs. B. in achair. After a journey of three days they arrived at the place and foundthe villagers in anxious expectation. They had erected a church on thebanks of a lovely stream and prepared accommodations for the missionaries.After the converts had been properly instructed, they were baptized by Mr.Mason. Thirty-four submitted to the ordinance and were added to the littleband of believers. The journey and the effort made to commune with thepeople were too much for the exhausted frame, and the good man began tosink rapidly. Carefully they took him up to remove him to the boat whichwas to convey him to the river; but as they passed along, the anxious wife,who watched the countenance of her husband, saw a change. Death had stampedhis signet on those pale features; and, when they arrived at the waterside, all that remained of Boardman was a cold, inanimate corpse. Thevoyage down the river was a sorrowful one. Every cheek was flowing downwith tears and every heart was bleeding with anguish.

At Tavoy they were met by the sad disciples, headed by Moung Ing, theconverted Burman. Slowly they bore forward the dead body of the man of God,and laid it down in the mission house in which he had so often discoursedof Jesus. Around him in that hallowed spot gathered a company more preciousto God than ever assembled around the bier of a fallen emperor; there wentup to heaven a wail of sorrow as heartfelt as ever was uttered over thegrave of son or sire; and the death was as full of sadness and importanceas could have been the demise of a laurelled chieftain or a titled senator.True, the throng who came out to see that pale form and marble brow werenot gathered from the proud and great of earth. No king came weeping to thehouse of death; no noble cortége came in sackcloth and stood as mournersthere; but the elect of God, the fruits of missionary labor on heathensoil, the converted sons and daughters of darkness, were the sincere,humble, faithful mourners.

They buried him in lowly pomp—the pomp of death. All the Europeanresidents of the place and crowds of natives to whom he had endearedhimself followed him to his burial. They laid him down on the right side ofhis first born, and returned home to weep, and many to forget. But therewas one who could never forget—no, never. The object of her early lovehad been stricken down, and in lonely widowhood she was left to bewailhis loss. But, though cast down, she was not forsaken. The Savior was herportion; and in this hour of trial she leaned on him. In her terriblevisitation she saw the traces of Jehovah's care; and, committing herselfand her fatherless child to him, her soul rested in hope.

During the time which elapsed between the death of Mr. Boardman and hermarriage with Dr. Judson the afflicted widow labored with all her might todo the will of her Master. Not content with instructing the lisping childand tender youth, she travelled from village to village with her littleboy and a few attendants. Wherever she went she was met with kindness. Thedeath of the white teacher had unsealed even the wild heart of heathenism;and the widow was an object of universal interest. It is doubtful if atany period of her life she exhibited more lovely traits of character, oraccomplished a greater amount of good in an equal space of time, than whilemoving along her tearful way from the grave of one husband to the marriagechamber of another.

After having remained a widow four years, Mrs. B. was, in April, 1834,united in marriage to Dr. Judson. The parties were well acquainted witheach other, and both understood the wants and privations of a missionarylife. This new marriage was a new proof of devotion to Christ and hiscause; and when Mrs. B. a second time gave herself to a missionary husband,it was a new and sublime token of her determination to live a missionarylife. Had she been so disposed, she might have returned to the home andfriends of her youth; but, with a full conception of all that would awaither, she again gave herself, for life, to Jesus and the perishing heathen.

Her little George, who had been to her torn and lacerated heart such asource of comfort, began to fail; and his mother determined to send him toAmerica. But how could she part with her darling one? How could she beholdhim borne away to a distant land, to see her face no more? But with thesame submission which she had ever manifested she bowed to this newbereavement, and kissed the cheek of her child and sent him away. It was atrial for which she had prepared herself; and it proved almost equal toany which had preceded it. But, knowing the importance of the step, shecheerfully acquiesced with the fortitude of a Christian.

It was not alone on heathen minds that Mrs. Judson produced a pleasantinfluence. The English residents at Tavoy, Maulmain, and Calcutta rememberher with affectionate interest. Many of them have in their houses or abouttheir persons the tokens of her kindness; and not a few can look back tohours of sickness and affliction when a gentle hand smoothed the pillow anda kind voice whispered in the ear words of hope and heaven. Often did shemeet in the praying circle with those who, like her, were far from home,and exhort them to love and serve God; and in obedience to her kindinstructions many sought and found the Savior. For a prayer meeting ofmothers she wrote a beautiful hymn, which appeared in a journal in ourcountry, which is truly touching and beautiful. It is as follows:—

"Lamb of God, enthroned on high,
Look on us with pitying eye
While we raise our earnest cry
For our babes to thee.

Once thy followers infants spurned;
But thy bosom o'er them yearned,
Nor from Canaan's daughters turned
Thy all-pitying eye.

Thou didst give our spirits rest,
"When with sin and grief oppressed,
In thy gentle, loving breast:
Shelter, then, our babes.

Breath divine they breathe, and wear
God's own image; yet they bear
Sin and guilt a fearful share:
Pity them, we pray.

Guide and guard them here below,
As through dangerous paths they go;
Be their joy'mid earthly woe—
Thou, their heavenly Friend.

When, to call thy children home,
Robed in glory thou shalt come,
For these little ones make room,
Lamb of God, we pray."

Her union with Dr. Judson was a happy one. Four little babes were born untothem ere the mother was called to try the realities of that world wherethere are no separations. In the care and culture of these much of her timewas necessarily spent; and so excessive and fatiguing were her labors thatshe soon began to sink under them. After the birth of her last child, whichwas born in December, 1844, it became evident to her husband that he wassoon to be left alone. The wasting disease made its appearance, and thepale form bowed beneath it. Her kind and experienced physicians, as a lastresort, recommended a voyage to America; and, after much consideration andprayer, she determined to turn her back on Burmah and once more visit theland of her nativity. A passage to this country was immediately secured;and, in company with her husband, she set sail in the early part of 1845.They had no sooner embarked than her health began to amend; and when theyreached the Isle of France Dr. Judson determined to return to hislabors, and leave his companion to visit America alone. They made theirarrangements to part—the one to labor and faint, the other to greet kindfriends in an often-remembered land. On the Isle of France the beautifulpoem, commencing,—

"We part on this green islet, love,"—

was written—a poem as affecting and heart-touching, when the circ*mstancesare recounted, as any one ever written.

But, on putting out to sea again, the disease returned with new symptomsof alarm, and continued to increase until September 1, 1845, when she diedwithin sight of the rocky Island of St. Helena.

Thus a second time was the venerable Judson bereaved of his dear companion,and in the midst of strangers called upon to surrender up the remains ofthe loved one to corruption and decay. They buried her where the hero ofLodi and Austerlitz slept, and a long train of mourners followed her to thetomb. The flags of the vessels in the harbor were seen waving at half mast,and signs of woe were observed in all directions.

She died in holy triumph, feeling that her labors were done, her toilsfinished, her race ended, and her warfare accomplished. To the husband whosat beside her when her last breath was drawn she said, just before sheexpired, "I ever love the Lord Jesus;" and with her hand in his, her soulleaning for support on the almighty arm, she sunk to rest. The sight whichSt. Helena saw that day was a sad one—more sad than when the leader of thedefeated armies of France was laid to rest beneath its soil.

Perhaps this sketch of Mrs. J. cannot be brought to a close moreappropriately than by the introduction of a beautiful extract from anaddress made by a distinguished statesman of New England at a missionaryconvention in Philadelphia—an address which contains a beautiful referenceto the fallen missionary, to the labors of those who are now on heathensoil, and to the sufferings of our Lord Jesus Christ while on earthperforming his labor of love and fulfilling his mission of grace to fallenman:—

"It is undoubtedly true that you are sometimes called upon to makesacrifices in your work of love. You sometimes feel that you are makingsacrifices. It may be comparatively so; but really, if you look at it asit is, you will find it no very great sacrifice. Here are our brethrenwho have left their homes and friends, who have gone among strangers andheathens. We have heard the story of their deprivations, of their labors,of their sorrows, of their chains, and of their imprisonment. Many of themmourn over departed happiness; many of them have fallen in the great work,and now sleep in heathen lands; many of them have gone down to the bottomof the great deep, where the seaweed is their winding sheet, the coraltheir only tombstone. One sleeps in Helena till the sound of the lasttrumpet arouse her; and when she comes up she will be attended by a retinueten thousand times more pompous and more splendid than ever surrounded themaddened emperor who had his grave in that island. His tomb was there,and after a few years, when it was opened, his military dress was wrappedaround him as when he was laid there; but the star upon his bosom, theemblem of his glory, the pride of his life,—it was corroded and black,a true representation of human glory, of the glory of a conqueror and animperial murderer. But when the grave shall open, and that loved sisterJudson shall come forth, there will be no corroded stars over that heart.But those who are there, as I said before, have certainly made sacrificescompared with us, with the brethren and friends they left behind; but whenthey look in another direction, when they turn their eyes to the greatfield, they feel fully compensated. They may live upon rice and milk, andoften not have enough of that. Their frail tenements are broken down by thestorms; and they are exposed to the roaming tigers, who may spring upon andrush through the thin walls of their habitations. They may be imprisonedfor a while and racked by the chains of tyranny. Yet never have they beencompelled to exclaim, as did that Savior who came to his own and his ownreceived him not, when a Pharisee proposed to be his follower, 'The birdsof the air have nests and the foxes have holes; but the Son of man hath notwhere to lay his head.' Think of that, ye heralds of the cross,—think ofthat, brethren in foreign lands,—the Being who made the world, while herein the flesh, declaring that the birds which he had made had nests, andthe foxes he had created had holes, where they could rest and sleep insecurity, but no place on this earth he had made where he could quietly laythat majestic, godlike head! Sometimes you feel as though your friends hadforsaken you. Go to Gethsemane; see there that Master who but a shorttime before, with the twelve surrounding the table, had told them of theapproaching trials and dangers: urged to rashness, the unthinking Peter haddeclared that, although all others might forsake him, he would not. He goesinto that lonely garden, separating himself from his disciples; but hetakes Peter, with two others, and asks them to watch here a while, whilehe goes yonder and prays. And then that traitor Judas had gone to make hisbargain; and the Savior knew the bands were hunting him. O, think of thathour and that garden! Think of the agony of that Savior's heart, which madehim say, 'My heart is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death'! Think ofthe agony, when the blood from the pores of his skin dropped down onGethsemane's garden, and when he came up to the judgment hall the noisyrabble insulting him; his followers abandoning him; the man who two shorthours before had said to him, 'that though all others forsake thee, I willnot,' uttering curses in his hearing and denying that he ever knew him;then the scarlet robe and that crown of thorns! O, has earth ever witnessedsuch a spectacle as that? And then that cowardly Roman governor, though heknew he was innocent, yielded him up to the hands of a vociferous, noisy,and infuriated mob; and he was by him condemned to an ignominious death. Inthe service of such a Master, who of his followers would talk of sacrifice?And then the consummation upon the cross, when all the powers of darknesson earth and hell were defeated! Three days, and on the morning of thefirst day of the week that buffeted, that down-trodden, and crucifiedSavior burst the shackles of the tomb, laid the monster Death at his feet,and rose a triumphant conqueror over the grave."

MARY E. VAN LENNEP, OF TURKEY.

The maiden name of Mrs. Van Lennep was Mary Elizabeth Hawes. She was bornin the beautiful city of Hartford, Connecticut, April 16, 1821. She was thedaughter of Rev. Dr. Hawes, who has so long and so honorably filled one ofthe pulpits of that place, and who, with all his contributions for humangood, has given no richer treasure to a fallen world than the one heresigned in the person of his lovely and accomplished child.

Born of gifted parents, Mary Elizabeth inherited much of her father'spenetration and judgment, and much of the virtue and excellence of hermother, under whose training hand she grew up to womanhood.

In the memoir prepared by that mother something like justice is done thevirtues and labors of her child; while the part she performed in the earlyculture of the mind and heart is modestly omitted. While the fair portraitof female excellence, as seen in the life of her daughter, is drawn withgreat distinctness, we are not told who laid the basis of that excellence,and who with ceaseless vigilance guarded the young mind from error and sin.We are hardly reminded, in the whole volume, of a mother's solicitude,tears, prayers, warnings, and counsels. It shall be ours to say, that allthe daughter was reflects back with mild and gentle light upon the mother'smemory.

The childhood of Mary E. was spent mostly in Hartford, where her advantageswere great. Her parents were qualified, mentally and morally, to give hersuitable instruction. Favored by God with literary and pecuniary ability,they lavished both upon their child, and brought her under all thosewholesome influences which were so well adapted to cultivate her abilitiesand expand her mind. Besides this, the company with which she mingled inher father's house was of the highest order. Her home was the centre ofdelightful associations. She met there the minister of God, the missionaryfrom heathen shores, the gifted and the good, and from all these obtainedmany lessons of wisdom. Perhaps she could not have been placed under morefavorable circ*mstances for the development of an amiable and lovelycharacter than those which clustered around her early years. Unlike someyoung people who are obliged to struggle against adverse and unpropitiouscirc*mstances, and who urge their way to usefulness and happiness under theheavy pressure of want and embarrassment, Miss Hawes had every current inher favor, and the whole tide of circ*mstances conspired to make her whatshe afterwards became.

In early youth she was distinguished for numerous traits of character whichadorn and elevate the young man or woman and render them deserving ofesteem. While yet a child she was remarkable for her veracity and honesty.Her mind seemed to dread a wicked or deceitful thing; and in all herintercourse with her parents and her young associates there was a noblefrankness which opened to her the hearts of all. The earliest lessons ofher childhood were calculated to impress her mind with the enormity of allfalsehood and the value of truth; and as she grew up to womanhood she wasdistinguished for this endearing virtue.

Gentleness of disposition was another characteristic of Miss Hawes. Sheseemed formed to weep with those who weep, to sympathize with those whowere distressed, to administer consolation to the torn heart of affliction.When by the bedside of the dying, or in the homes of bereavement andsorrow, her hand was gentle and her voice mild and musical. There was asweet and unobtrusive kindness of manner, a mild and touching sympathy,which won the heart of the sufferer and introduced her at once to the innertemple of the wounded spirit.

She early became familiar with the Holy Bible. Time which many youngpersons give to foolish and vain reading was spent over the book of God;and, when young in life, she was more familiar with the history and poetryof the Old Testament than are many persons at an advanced age. Her youngmind seemed to enter with intense interest and delight into the scenesdescribed by patriarchs and prophets and so beautifully discoursed upon bythe sweet singers of Israel.

While in her tenth year Mary E. was called to part with a brother youngerthan herself. Notwithstanding her extreme youth, she received thisaffliction with all the philosophic calmness of mature life. While herfather and mother were weeping around the bedside of the dying boy, whiletheir hearts were almost broken by this new stroke of divine Providence,the little daughter clung around them, and in their ears whispered words ofpeace and hope. The hymns of consolation which they had taught her to singshe now rehearsed to them; and many a word of confidence in God which theyhad uttered in bar hearing she now called up from the depths of memory, tocomfort their hearts and mitigate their sorrows. Her conduct at such anhour was a restoring cordial to the wounded hearts of the parents, whofound in the heavenly mindedness of one child consolation for the loss ofanother.

Shortly after the death of this brother Mary became in heart and life aChristian. She passed through that mysterious change which some denominate"regeneration;" which she described by the expression, "I have found God."The cautious father waited long ere he advised his child to make a publicprofession of the religion of Christ. She was very young, and liable to bedeceived; and he wished her to examine well the foundation of her hope,and see whereon it was built. He could not endure the idea that she shouldenter the church without a saving, evangelical change, and substitute thesprinkling of water for the baptism of blood. Hence from time to time hedeferred the subject until his doubts all vanished; until the correct,consistent deportment of his child subdued the fears of parental fondness;until the world became impressed with the religious character of the youngdisciple. Then he led her to the altar, broke to her the bread of life, andwelcomed her to the tribes of God.

From this time her life was one of true, consistent piety. That cautiousfather never to the day of her death had occasion to regret the unionformed between her and the people of God. To her young Christian associatesshe was a pattern of excellence, and to her many an eye was turned for agood and faithful example. Nor were the expectations formed of her at alldisappointed. She lived no dubious life; hers was not a strange, erraticpiety. Brighter and brighter grew her sun, until it set, at noon, in aflood of light and glory.

No sooner Was she a member of the church than she began to feel theimportance of being a faithful laborer in the vineyard of God. The falseviews which so many have of the church relation she did not cherish. Shedid not regard the church as a place of rest and repose—a spot where shewould be free from temptation, trials, and toils. On the contrary, sheclearly saw the obligations which are laid upon a servant of God, anddetermined to discharge them to the best of her ability. To her youngfriends she stated her own feelings, and urged them to love the same Saviorand embrace the same religion. With all the ardor of a young convert, andall the enthusiasm of a soul inspired by the hopes of heaven, she presentedto their minds the value of faith in Christ and the necessity of a newheart, and, by all the arguments and motives within her reach, besoughtthem to love and serve God.

Nor was she satisfied with this alone. She labored with her hands andcontributed of her money to advance the glory of God. Impressed with theimportance of missions, she formed a society among her young associates tosew and knit for the purpose of providing clothing for the families whowere abroad. For this circle of children, which convened from time to time,she prepared work and furnished employment until a box was ready, and,under the direction of older friends, sent to a missionary who was laboringfor God in distant China.

As she grew older, her missionary interest increased. The claims of a dyingworld were spread out before her, and her heart burned to be on heathensoil where the gospel had never been preached and where the story of Christhad never been told. She felt for dying men as she saw them, in all thedegradation of heathenism, bowing down to wood and stone and worshippingthe lifeless images which can neither see nor speak. The sunken conditionof heathen females, denied their legal and moral rights, deprived of theadvantages which elevate the other sex, drew her attention and claimed hersympathy. The missionary concert was regularly attended; the MissionaryHerald was regularly read; the missionary contribution was regularly paid.

In the Sabbath school she was a devoted and successful laborer. Her placein the class was occupied except in cases of necessity; and for thechildren committed to her trust she felt deep and anxious solicitude. Oftenin her closet and in the place of social prayer did she commend them to thegracious care of God and pray that they might all be members of the fold ofChrist.

There were two circ*mstances which had powerful influence upon herreligious life and character, and which, to some extent, seem to have givena direction to after years.

The first was a season of sickness by which Miss H. was brought to theborders of the grave. This occurred in the summer of 1841. The season ofsickness became an inestimable blessing. It gave her time for reflectionsuch as she seldom obtained, and led her to feel the vanity of human lifeand the emptiness of earthly pleasures and joys. She saw in her own wastingform and pallid cheek the evidences of mortality, and, realized thenecessity of securing treasure in the heavens, where sickness and deathwill never disturb the visions of peace.

The second circ*mstance was the revival which occurred in thecongregation with which she was connected in the same year of her illness.That revival was deep, powerful, all-pervading. The Church fell upon herbended knees before the throne of God; the wayward disciple came, withtears and penitence, and besought forgiveness of God and the Church. Theold man, with his white locks and streaming eyes, asked, "What shall I doto be saved?" The, young and gay were turned from sin and vanity and ledto seek an interest in the world's only Savior. The whole city felt theinfluence of the work of grace; and the sceptic, in amazement, asked, "Whatdo these things mean?"

On one communion occasion about one hundred united with that one church,most of whom were young in years and strong in heart. The prayers of God'speople were answered; the labors of the church were crowned with the divineblessing; and a season such as causes joy in heaven among the angelic hostswas enjoyed.

This revival was like a purifying fire to our subject. As a matter ofcourse, she became deeply interested in its progress and results. Led toprayer and effort, she realized the worth of souls, the value of religion,the bliss of heaven, and the horror of despair; and, as one young associateafter another gave her heart to God, the young disciple was full of joy.

In 1843 Miss Hawes was called seriously to decide upon a missionary life.She well knew the trials of such a life. In her father's house she hadoften met with those who had tried "the life of danger and death," andhad returned broken down with disease and sorrow. She had listened to thenarration of their labors, their sufferings, and their success, and wasbetter prepared to judge of the privations and pain to be experienced thanmost who depart on such errands of mercy.

But the decision was soon made. When it became evident to her mind that shecould be more useful in Turkey than in America, when it was settled thatduty to God and a dying world required her to leave home and native land,when Jesus seemed to beckon her away, the question was soon settled, andsettled in such a manner as to involve a separation from loved friends anda removal from all the enjoyments of a civilized country.

On the 4th of September, 1843, Miss Hawes was married to Rev. Henry J. VanLennep: and, amid familiar scenes and countenances, the father gave hisdaughter to her missionary husband, to the toils and sacrifices of amissionary life. The pious and happy couple immediately started on a shortpleasure tour previous to sailing for the East, where they were to laborand die. The time which intervened between the joyful marriage service andthe sad departure was crowded with incidents of a thrilling character; andthe month was one of excitement, anxiety, and care.

Mr. Van Lennep was a missionary under the patronage of the American Boardof Commissioners for Foreign Missions. He was destined for Turkey, to whichOriental clime he was about to take his fair companion. In him Miss Hawesfound a tender and devoted husband, who, when her sickness came and wearyhours were appointed unto her, watched over her with the most considerateattention, and deprived himself of rest and sleep that he might cheer hissick and dying companion, whom he had taken from a home of plenty, ease,refinement, and luxury, and removed to a cheerless and lonely spot, tolabor with him for the perishing.

It required no slight effort for Mrs. Van Lennep to part with so manyfamiliar scenes and go forth to return no more. There was her mother, whomshe tenderly loved, and whose declining years she had hoped to comfort andcheer. How could she leave that parent? How could she say "Farewell,"and do it with the consciousness that she should gaze upon that mildcountenance and that loved form no more? How could she take that hand whichhad led her up to womanhood,—a hand which wiped her brow when sick andsuffering, and wet her throbbing temples when pained with fever,—howcould she grasp it for the last time?

Then there was her Sabbath school class, over which she had prayed andwept, and to the members of which she had imparted instruction so often andso tenderly.

There was also the house of God, in which she had so often heard the musicof a father's voice; the Sabbath bell, which had so often called her to thetemple and the place of prayer; the organ, whose tones had often thrilledher soul as she sat with the worshipping assembly, chanting the praise ofGod. How could she leave all these? The separation cost an effort such asthose only know who have made the trial.

She sailed from Boston, in company with her husband and father, in the barkStamboul, on the 11th of October, 1843. The Stamboul was a fine vessel; andour missionaries were well accommodated on board. The gentlemanly officersand crew omitted nothing which could render the situation of the femalevoyager pleasant and comfortable as a "life on the ocean wave" would allow.Besides this, the kindness of friends had provided every little comfort andconvenience which could be needed; and the trunks and boxes of Mrs. VanLennep were stored with articles which her Hartford and Boston friends hadgathered for her use. She went out, not as Mrs. Newell went, on a cold,severe day, with but few comforts, with but few conveniences, with but fewfriends to: bid her farewell, with no sermon, no song, no prayer on thedeck; but every thing which money could purchase or the ingenuity offriends devise was brought forward to add to her comfort. Before theStamboul sailed a service was held on board, which was attended bydeeply-interested friends. The missionaries, the passengers, the crew werecommitted to the care of God. The parting hymn rose on the breeze, echoedover the waves, and its sad strains died away on the hearts of thelisteners. The parting hand was given; and as kind friends left the deckthe ropes were loosed, and in noble style the vessel swept out into theharbor, and the mother and child gazed upon each other for the last time.

"Ye who, forsaking all,
At your loved Master's call,
Comforts resign,
Soon will your work be done;
Soon will the prize be won;
Brighter than yonder sun
Ye soon shall shine."

Most of the voyage was spent by Mrs. Van Lennep in preparing herself forfuture usefulness and in the study of those languages which she would mostneed. She enjoyed the passage more than any other lady on board, and was ondeck in some scenes of peril which made even the hearts of strong men totremble.

More than any thing else did our subject miss the privileges of theSabbath. The daughter of a clergyman, she had been reared beneath theshadow of the Christian temple, and taught from infancy to love and reverethe day of rest. And though upon shipboard she heard the song of praise,the solemn prayer, and the interesting discourse from the same lips whichled the devotions at home, yet the church-going bell, the pealing organ,and the countenances of early associates were not found on the ocean. Allwas strange and wild as the tempest itself.

On the Sabbath day, November 5th, the eyes of the voyagers were greetedwith a view of that noble monument which rises from the blue waters of theMediterranean-the Rock of Gibraltar. They looked upon it as the rising sunglanced lines of light all around it and painted it with gorgeous beauty,making even its very barrenness appear, attractive.

Whoever has sailed along the shores of the Mediterranean Sea will rememberthe many objects of interest which present themselves on every side. Thereare seen convents which have stood for ages, braving change and time, fromwhose turrets the vesper bell has sounded forth over the waters, callingthe ghostly father and the young recluse from the cell and the cloister tomingle in the devotions imposed by the Holy Mother Church; castles frowningfrom bare and beaten rocks, reminding one of other days, when feudal strifeand knightly warfare demanded such monuments of barbarism to prove that"might makes right;" beautiful gondolas, with richly-dressed Orientals,manned with slaves, and propelled by the broad, flat paddle, reminding oneof the songs which cast their witchery around the knights of yore, and fromthe blue bosom of the sea gave back the melodious echo; the highlands,clad in beauty and arrayed in all the verdure of perpetual summer; villasstanding amid groves of trees in full blossom, and cultivated slopeswhich extend to the very billows of the sea; ruined temples, monasteries,convents, cathedrals, standing like some relics of the past, fit emblems ofthe decaying faith once taught within them.

About the 1st of December, the Stamboul, with its precious freight, arrivedat Smyrna; and when the new year with all its hallowed emotions came,they were comfortably located in their new home, surrounded with everycirc*mstance to make them happy. Their home stood near the sea shore, andfrom its verandas they could look far out upon the waters and behold thepassing vessels as on the busy voyage they sped to and fro. In the gardensweet roses bloomed, and the orange and lemon gave delicious fragrance andmore delicious fruit.

They here found the former associates of Mr. Van Lennep, who received themwith the greatest kindness; and their residence in Smyrna soon becamedelightfully pleasant. One who loved the wonders of Nature, and couldappreciate the goodness of God in the works of his hands, the scenes ofnatural beauty every where spread out, could not fail to be attracted byso many displays of divine wisdom and power. To go from our cold, austereclimate, our bare fields and rock-ribbed mountains, to dwell amid theluxurious vineyards and gardens of the south of Europe, seems like beingtransported from a cheerless desert to a blooming paradise. Our beautifulthings are not connected with our climate or our unproductive fields, butwith our free institutions, our systems of education, our public morality,our well-regulated government, our well-administered laws, and theindustry, intelligence, and religious habits of the people. Our fields andvineyards, our rich groves and beautiful scenes, are our churches, ourschools, our colleges, our asylums for the poor, for the blind, for theinsane. These constitute the pride and glory of the land of the Pilgrims.The glory of the East arises from the natural beauty of the country; fromthe adornments of Nature; from the skill and care of God.

Early in August, 1844, she was afflicted with dysentery, which increasedupon, her gradually until all hope of life was taken away. Finding that shecould not live, she gave her time to meditation and prayer. The idea ofleaving earth and parting with her husband, and being buried in a strangeland, though terrible in some respects, did not alarm her. She wished tolive for her husband, for Jesus, for the souls of sinners; but if it wasthe will of God she was ready—ready to die at anytime and be buried in anyplace. During her sickness, her husband, alarmed at the prospect of hisloss, used all means to restore her wasting health; he remained by herbedside, and with the most tender care endeavored to mitigate her sorrowsand lift her soul above the pains of sickness. He could not endure the ideaof a separation at the moment when she seemed most useful and best preparedto labor with success. He had taken her from home, from loved scenes, todie amid strangers; and the responsibility of his position made him, inthat period of anguish, a most tender nurse and a most faithful watcher.

Her last hours were spent in a manner which gave the brightest evidence ofher future bliss to all who saw her. With a firm hope in the merits of thecrucified One, she descended into the waters of the dark, deep Jordan,whose billows broke upon the shores of human life with such melancholymoanings. There was no fear; her soul was stayed on God; and a divine handlifted her heart in the last conflict.

About one o'clock, September 27, she breathed her last, and the spirit tookits everlasting flight from the abodes of flesh and the tenements of men.Her last words were, "O, how happy!" and earth was exchanged for heaven.She felt the tender and confiding spirit of that beautiful and touchinghymn of Wesley, and repeated it with dying voice and a countenance allradiant with smiles:—

"Jesus, lover of my soul,
Let me to thy bosom fly."

THE END.