Thomas Webster

Eminent Women of Modern Times.

It now remains to be seen whether the women of modern times have been worthy of note, or what they have in any way accomplished.

COUNTESS OF MONTFORT.

In the troublous times about the middle of the fourteenth century, when every petty prince in Europe was trying to overreach his immediate neighbor and grasp his lands, and when ties of blood seemed only to intensify feuds, there arose two claimants for the principality of Brittany. The Count of Montfort, half-brother of the last duke, and Charles of Blois, were the rivals; and each prosecuted his claim with vigor. The army of Charles laid siege to Nantz, in which Montfort happened to be, and from which he found it impossible to escape.

Here was a dilemma. The partisans of Montfort were without an efficient leader; and his chances of gaining what he claimed were exceedingly doubtful. In this crisis of his affairs, however, an unexpected diversion was made, which changed the current of fortune. His wife, Jane of Flanders, now Countess of Montfort, had hitherto limited her administrative abilities to the careful management of her domestic concerns; and, it is to be supposed, was not deemed capable of a thought beyond. The tidings of the virtual captivity of her husband roused in her a determination to defend what she considered to be his rights, since he was unable to defend them himself.

She was at the time residing at Rennes, the inhabitants of which she caused to be assembled, and made known the disaster which had befallen their sovereign. Her infant son she presented before them as the last of an illustrious line, which must become extinct unless his father's fortunes were retrieved; and she besought them to prove now, by actions, the attachment they had formerly professed for the count. Nor was her address in vain. The citizens, inspired by courage and eloquence, vowed they would fight under her standard alone, and live or die with her. The garrisons throughout Brittany followed the example of Rennes, and she found herself at the head of a respectable army; but, fearing that she was not sufficiently strong to cope with Charles, who was backed by the strength of France, she applied to Edward III, of England, for help. Then, having put the affairs of the province in the best possible position, she established herself at Hennebonne, where she awaited the issue of events; having first sent her son to England, that he might be out of danger.

In the mean time, Charles of Blois was not inactive. Hennebonne was, of itself, too important a fortress to be overlooked; and, besides that, the heroic countess was there. If he could take the city and make prisoner its defender, his cause would be gained. With both the count and his wife in his power, he would be sure of the succession. Accordingly, before the supplies which Edward was sending could reach Hennebonne, he laid siege to it; but did not find its capture so easy a matter as he had expected.

The besieged made frequent sallies, in which the enemy lost both men and reputation, though they were not compelled to raise the siege. On one of these occasions the return of the countess was intercepted, and she found it impossible to regain the fortress. Nothing daunted she commanded her men to disperse themselves over the country, while she made her own escape to Brest. As soon as was possible, she collected another and larger force, and, forcing her way through the enemy's camp, made good her entrance into the city, to the great joy of her almost discouraged partisans.

Subsequently, the re-enforcements expected from Edward not having yet arrived, it was thought the garrison would be obliged to capitulate, and negotiations were actually commenced. The countess, deeply mortified at the turn her affairs were taking, had mounted a high turret, and there remained, looking sadly out over the sea in the direction whence the long-expected, but now despaired of, supplies should have come. Perhaps there was still a slight hope in her heart that, even yet, the desired aid might be afforded. If so, that hope was destined to be realized. As she kept her position, gazing sorrowfully over the wide expanse of waters, she descried dark objects on the very verge of the horizon. The despairing look gave place to one of eager, hopeful watching. The objects increased in size as she strained the eye to determine what they really were. A favorable breeze was wafting them nearer, and presently they took a tangible form. "Sails! sails!" cried the delighted countess. "Behold the succors—the English succors. No capitulation!" The opportune arrival of the re-enforcements sent by Edward had saved the garrison. Charles was obliged to raise the siege. He had neither taken the city nor captured the countess.

Edward's six thousand gallant troops did the cause of the countess and her still besieged husband good service. They had not appeared upon the field at an earlier period in the struggle in consequence of contrary winds. But the delay itself had accomplished very much in bringing out the strong points in the character of the countess. She had proved to the world that she could not only collect an army, but do even more—efficiently command it.

Subsequently, the cause of Charles of Blois seemed to gain fresh strength, and his party greatly outnumbered that of Montfort, whose friends decreased as those of Charles increased. Edward again sent re-enforcements. The English fleet, having with them the countess, were met on the passage to Brittany by the enemy, and an action ensued, in which the countess behaved with the utmost courage, charging the foe as valorously as any other officer among them. A storm put an end to the bloody conflict, and the fleet, without further adventure, reached the shores of Brittany. Thenceforth the dispute of the succession became inextricably mixed up in the quarrel between England and France, becoming indeed a part of it; and we trace the career of the heroic Countess of Montfort no further.

ANNE ASKEW.

In the preceding sketch, it has been shown what a woman could—did, in fact—do and dare, as an ardent patriot and loving wife. The fortitude of Anne Askew was of a different stamp. She proved what she could endure for conscience' sake. The Reformation produced many women such as she; but her simple story must suffice, here, for all.

She was a young lady of high family, and exercised a remarkable influence, for one so young, over the ladies at the Court of Henry VIII; and even stood in the relation of a friend to the queen—no great passport to the favor of the monster Henry. Being possessed of considerable mental ability, she gave much of her attention to the study of the theological questions which were disturbing the peace of Europe at the time; and being also of an independent turn, and withal deeply pious, she dared to question Henry's dogma concerning the "real presence" of the body of Christ in the Sacrament. Henry was furious that a woman should dare to hold any tenet other than he allowed, or dispute one which he had decreed must be believed. The infamous Bonner was commissioned to confer with her respecting her religious views; and, finding her firm in her determination not to yield to either his dictates or those of the king, he pronounced her a heretic. His conduct in representing her as such was the more reprehensible, as, while refusing to give entire credence to the doctrine they wished to impose upon her, she told the bishop and wrote to the king that, "As to the Lord's-supper, she believed as much as Christ himself had said of it, ... and as much as the Catholic Church required."

But the king, though professing to be a reformer, would brook nothing which did not accord precisely with his own dogmatic utterances. Her presuming to write to him, when she did not submit to his dictation, he chose to construe as a fresh insult to himself.

Her youth (she was but seventeen), her beauty, and her innocence were no protection. The rack, and then the stake, were all that remained, unless she could be prevailed on to recant. This she gently but firmly refused to do.

The king was determined to root out the heresy—if it existed there—from the court; and those who knew him, knew that there was no cruelty of which he would not be guilty to accomplish his end. Wriothesley, the chancellor, waited on the unfortunate Miss Askew to examine her concerning the religious sentiments of the other ladies of the court; but, though bold in professing her own religious views, she was just as firm in refusing to implicate any of her former associates. Threatenings and promises were alike found useless. Then she was subjected to the most excruciating torture; but, though every limb was dislocated, the noble girl remained true to her friends and to her God. So enraged was the chancellor at her fortitude, that when the lieutenant of the tower refused to obey his order to screw the rack still more tightly, he seized the instrument himself, and wrenched it so violently as almost to tear the "body asunder." But her constancy was unshaken. Torture having failed, the poor, mangled body was thrust into a chair, and carried to the stake. A Catholic priest and two other persons were conducted with her to execution, all condemned in like manner for the violation of the king's mandates. Bound to their respective stakes, these victims of intolerant bigotry and unlimited tyranny awaited with patience the kindling of the fagots which were piled around. But they were to be still further tempted ere they were released from suffering. While they were thus publicly exposed in the most painful of positions, suffering all the physical agony it was possible to endure and live, a message was sent to them that, if they would even at that late period recant, their lives would be spared. But they refused to purchase life at such a price, and calmly met their doom, Miss Askew with as much fortitude as either of the others.

Thus, amid smoke and flame, the pure spirit of Anne Askew was wafted, by attendant angels, to the paradise of God, whom she was not ashamed to honor before men. In all the struggle of the Reformation, what man exhibited more courage or greater strength of character or fortitude than this beautiful girl of but seventeen Summers? In what respect did she exhibit inferiority to those men associated with her in the trying year (1546) in which she earned her crown of martyrdom? There were many martyrs, but not one more steadfast.

ESTHER INGLIS.

The reign of Elizabeth has been styled the Augustine age of England. Under this queen's sanction, literature flourished more than ever before in that kingdom; and as a consequence her people became less barbarous, and men learned to look with less admiration upon the sword, and more respect on books. The influence of the encouragement given to men of letters by Elizabeth tells for good upon our literature, even after this lapse of time.

Among the personages eminent in this reign was Esther Inglis, who was exceedingly zealous, and industrious withal, in translating and transcribing the Scriptures into various languages, particularly French and Latin. Copies of these she presented to persons of distinction, one of which—a copy of the Psalms, and a rare specimen of calligraphy—she presented to the queen, who graciously accepted it, and subsequently had it deposited in the library of Christ's Church, Oxford.

She was pronounced by the most exacting critics to be the most accurate chirographist that had been known up to that period; nor has her peer been found since. She excelled even the celebrated Ascham and Davies, both in the number and variety of styles. Her copy of the Book of Proverbs is perhaps her most elaborate work of art, and is a marvel for the ingenious combination of writing, of which there are forty specimens, and fine pen-and-ink drawings. Every chapter, which is embellished both at the beginning and end with beautiful decorations, is written in a different hand, and there are variations of hand in some of the chapters. The book is entitled "Les Proverbes de Solomon, escrites in diverses sortes des lettres, par Esther Anglois, Francoise: A Lislebourge en Escosse, 1599," and is dedicated to the Earl of Essex. It is further ornamented by an exquisitely neat representation of the arms of the unfortunate nobleman, with all their quarterings, and by a pen-and-ink likeness of herself.

Several others of her works are carefully preserved in both England and Scotland; and some, as late 1711, were in the possession of her own descendants.

At the age of forty, she married a Scottish gentleman, named Kello, or, as we would spell it in these modern times, Kelly. The issue of this marriage was one son, named Samuel; and it was her grandson, Samuel Kelly, who was in possession of various portions of her works in the last century.

LADY PAKINGTON.

This celebrated lady, who flourished in the latter part of the seventeenth century, was the daughter of Lord Coventry, Keeper of the Great Seal, and the wife of Sir John Pakington. She was justly considered one of the celebrities of her day, and her society sought by the learned divines with whom she was contemporary. She was the well-known author of several works of merit, and the reputed author of others.

Ballard, who has given the world so many sketches of worthy and eminent women, with several other writers of note, claims that it was she who wrote the treatise entitled "The Whole Duty of Man;" and his reasoning is so much to the point, though quaint, that we simply append what he says of her, with his apt quotations from her writings, as a sufficiently clear delineation of the character and talents of this worthy woman. He writes:

"Yet hardly my pen will be thought capable of adding to the reputation her own has procured to her, if it shall appear that she was the author of a work which is not more an honor to the writer than a universal benefit to mankind. The work I mean is 'The Whole Duty of Man;' her title to which has been so well ascertained, that the general concealment it has lain under will only reflect a luster upon all her other excellencies by showing that she had no honor in view but that of her Creator, which, I suppose, she might think best promoted by this concealment. (The claims of other authors are not difficult to be disposed of.) If I were a Roman Catholic, I would summon tradition as an evidence for me on this occasion, which has constantly attributed this performance to a lady. And a late celebrated writer observes, that 'there are many probable arguments in "The Whole Duty of Man," to back a current report that it was written by a lady,' And any one who reads 'The Lady's Calling,' may observe a great number of passages which clearly indicate a female hand.

"That vulgar prejudice of the supposed incapacity of the female sex is what these memoirs in general may possibly remove; and as I have had frequent occasion to take notice of it, I should not now enter again upon that subject, had not this been made use of as an argument to invalidate Lady Pakington's title to those performances. It may not be amiss, therefore, to transcribe two or three passages from the treatise I have just now mentioned. 'But, waiving these reflections, I shall fix only on the personal accomplishments of the sex, and peculiarly that which is the most principal endowment of the rational nature—I mean the understanding—where it will be a little hard to pronounce that they are naturally inferior to men, when it is considered how much of intrinsic weight is put in the balance to turn it to the men's side. Men have their parts cultivated and improved by education; refined and subtilized by learning and arts; are like a piece of common which, by industry and husbandry, becomes a different thing from the rest, though the natural turf owned no such inequality. We may, therefore, conclude that whatever vicious impotence women are under, it is acquired, not natural; nor derived from any illiberality of God's, but from the ill-managery of his bounty. Let them not charge God foolishly, or think that by making them women, he necessitated them to be proud or wanton, vain or peevish; since it is manifest he made them to better purpose; was not partial to the other sex; but that having, as the prophet speaks, "abundance of spirit," he equally dispensed it, and gave the feeblest woman as large and capacious a soul as that of the greatest hero. Nay, give me leave to say further, that as to an eternal well-being, he seems to have placed them in more advantageous circumstances than he has done men. He has implanted in them some native propensions which do much facilitate the operations of grace upon them,'

"And having made good this assertion, she interrogates thus: 'How many women do we read of in the Gospel who, in all the duties of assiduous attendance on Christ, liberalities of love and respect, nay, even in zeal and courage, surpassed even the apostles themselves? We find his cross surrounded, his passion celebrated, by the avowed tears and lamentations of devout women, when the most sanguine of his disciples had denied, yea, foresworn; and all had forsaken him. Nay, even death itself could not extinguish their love. We find the devout Maries designing a laborious, chargeable, and perhaps hazardous respect, to his corpse; and accordingly it is a memorable attestation Christ gives to their piety by making them the first witnesses of his resurrection, the prime evangelists to proclaim those glad tidings, and, as a learned man speaks, apostles to the apostles.'

"There are many works of this lady besides 'The Whole Duty of Man,' enumerated in her biographies."

MRS. MARY WASHINGTON.

The material at hand is too meagre to admit of giving such a sketch of this lady as would afford any adequate idea of her character; and yet it is due to her memory, and to her nation, that there should be some tribute to her worth.

The mother of General Washington is as much the mother of the Great Republic as was Mrs. Susannah Wesley the mother of Methodism; for Washington owed the distinction to which he rose, and the high niche he occupies in the history of the world's heroes, to the early and careful training of his mother. Left a widow in a comparatively new and wild country, when her son George was but ten years old, she fully realized the very great responsibility resting upon her as sole remaining guardian of her children, and set herself to watch the bent of their inclinations, and to direct their energies into a proper channel. Respecting the influence she exerted upon them, her daughter-in-law, the wife of the President, many years afterward remarked: "You speak of the greatness of my husband. His dear mother ever looked well to the ways of her household. She taught him to be industrious by her example."

By her mild but firm management of her boy, she established a hold upon his affections, which strengthened instead of decreasing with years; and when, in the later part of his life, honors and distinctions were heaped upon him, he considered them rather as tributes to the worth of his mother than to his own. As was natural to so adventurous a spirit, George early manifested a predilection for the sea, and his elder brother encouraged him in thinking he might attain distinction as a gallant mariner. A midshipman's berth was procured for him, at the age of fifteen, on board of one of his majesty's ships, then off the coast of Virginia; and it seemed as if the ardent desire of his boyhood was about to be realized. But when all was ready, his mother gave expression to her disapproval of the expedition. Though sorely disappointed, he at once acquiesced, and yielded to the representations made by her. Nor did she expect him to give a ready acquiescence to her views without giving him valid reasons. She deemed him quite too young to be removed from the salutary restraints of home, and from the influences of its dearer ties. Years after, the colonists of Virginia and the North-west blessed the day upon which Mrs. Washington refused her consent to her son's entering the navy, and thus kept him to do them invaluable service in driving back from their territories the hostile Indians, or more hostile French. Though a genuine F.F.V., she was never arrogant in her demeanor. In her intercourse with those by whom she was surrounded, or with whom she came in contact, she was simple and unaffected, the model of a true lady and a Christian.

Even in old age, she still watched carefully over the interests of her son. During the Winter of 1777-1778, when the American soldiers were in such extremity at Valley Forge, she, as well as the wife of Washington, spent her time in preparing comfortable clothing for them. Her spinning-wheel and knitting-needles were rarely idle in those times of trial. A woman of proper discernment and good judgment, it is scarcely necessary to say that she disapproved of extravagance of every kind; and when the necessities of her country demanded the sacrifice of every thing not an absolute necessity, she was found foremost in setting an example of plainness of dress.

Lafayette, with his aids-de-camp, paid her a visit of congratulation on the occasion of Washington's successful passage of the Delaware, and found her dressed for their reception in a plain printed gown, with her knitting—probably a stocking for some needy soldier—lying on a table near her. Did the noble Frenchman and his companions deem their reception to have been less cordial than they would have thought it had she arrayed herself in costly satin and lace, and received them in idle state? Lafayette's own testimony of his appreciation of her remarkable worth answers for itself.

At a good old age she died, and her country still reveres her memory.

MRS. WESLEY.

Taylor, the historian, gives Mrs. Wesley quite a prominent position in his account of the work accomplished by her sons, and gives the following reason for doing so: "The mother of the Wesleys was the mother of Methodism." One who was so intimately connected with the leaders of the Reformation of the eighteenth century deserves a prominent position among the eminent women of modern history.

Mrs. Wesley was distinguished, from childhood, for rare mental ability; and, even at so early an age as thirteen, had made theology a favorite study. Arrived at mature years, she made practical use of the knowledge so carefully acquired in youth, and manifested unusual judgment and skill in the early training and general management of her very large family. She did not confine herself to the management of her domestic concerns alone, as many good mothers would have done, though she carefully superintended them, but also overlooked the studies of her children; and it was really her thorough training, and her subsequent counsels to John and Charles while at Oxford, which produced in them the bent of mind that finally resulted in the great Methodist movement.

Accustomed all her life to read with care the productions of the most eminent writers of her own and preceding times, and to reflect upon what she read, she was able to arrive at correct conclusions concerning questions of importance, whether they related to private matters or to the public well-being. She had no more dread of Mrs. Grundy than her sons had. Once she knew she was right, "Society" might either blame or praise, as it saw fit; she remained firm in the carrying out of the measure—true to her principles.

When her sons, John and Charles, collected the common and poorer people about them, and began preaching to them in the open fields, there was a fearful outcry. Old-time customs had been innovated. Clergymen of the Church of England had departed from accustomed usage, and from field or horseblock had proclaimed a full and free salvation through Christ to the very vilest of the land, if they would but comply with the conditions laid down by him. The Profession were aggrieved at such irregular proceedings. "Society" was scandalized that outcasts were bidden to the same feast upon the same conditions with those reputed decent. Even Samuel Wesley felt called upon to rebuke his brothers sharply for the reproach he considered they had brought upon the Church by their "intemperate zeal," But where was their mother meanwhile—she whose counsels experience had proved it best to follow? Examining the Scriptures, and the history of the primitive Church, to see wherein her sons had gone astray, that she might be in a position to convince them of their error, if she found them to be in it. Careful study, however, convinced her that they were only practicing the course followed by Christ and his apostles; and her determination was taken. She would not only encourage them by her letters, but sustain them and sanction their course by her presence. Accordingly, she went with her son John to Kensington Common, and stood by him while he preached to a congregation of about "twenty thousand people."

It was Mrs. Wesley who counseled John to ponder well what he did before he forbade laymen to address congregations; and her arguments on this point were so conclusive that they led him to alter his mind and make use of them as an agency for good in the Church, though previously he had considered such a proceeding a dangerous innovation.

During the life-time of her husband, it was her custom, in his absence, to allow those who chose to come to assemble in a room of the old rectory at Epworth, on Sunday, and either read them a sermon herself or have one of the elder children do it. Frequently, the office of reader devolved upon her daughter Emily.

No matter into what department of her life you inquire, she is still found the same active, energetic, and strong-minded woman. Nothing weak or puerile is found in her character. From girlhood to maturity, from maturity to gray hairs, she pursues the same steady, uniform course. Her life is consistent with the principles which she had laid down for her own self-government, and which she believed were deduced from the Word of God.

At seventy-two years of age, she closed a long career of usefulness, dying, as the Christian might be expected to die, in the triumphs of faith. Five of her daughters, and her son John, were permitted to stand at her bedside and witness her peaceful end, and to comply with a request made shortly before she died, that, as soon as the last struggle was ended, they should unite in singing a psalm of praise for her release.

Very appropriate were the lines of her son Charles on this occasion:

"In sure and steadfast hope to rise,

And claim her mansion in the skies,

A Christian here her flesh laid down—

The cross exchanging for a crown."

MRS. FLETCHER.

Miss Mary Bosanquet, afterward Mrs. Fletcher, may also be numbered among the great women of the eighteenth century. While yet unmarried, she identified herself with the Methodists; and as a consequence was subjected to bitter persecution, even to being excluded from her father's house, and forbidden to have any intercourse with the younger members of the family.

Circumstances led her to believe that it was her duty to exercise the talents given to her, in addressing public audiences, and she accordingly began speaking to such congregations as she chanced to have. Such a departure from established usage brought down upon her a storm of invective and abuse. Her family and friends felt aggrieved that she should have allowed her enthusiasm—as they termed it—to lead her into what they deemed such an indecorous proceeding; and for a time she found it exceedingly difficult to stem the tide of opposition raised against her. But her natural good sense and independence of character were greatly in her favor. Ultimately, without her having yielded to the pressure brought to bear upon her, she overcame all opposition, and her family became reconciled to her.

She preached in various parts of England with acceptance, as she had opportunity, from shortly after her conversion till her marriage; and then, as it would have been a violation of a canon of the Church of England—of which Mr. Fletcher was a minister—for a woman to occupy the pulpit of the church at Madeley, her husband had a large building erected, in close proximity to the rectory, for her especial use. Here, for the few years that he was spared to his wife, it was Mr. Fletcher's pleasure—though he had few equals in erudition—to listen to the gentle teachings of this amiable woman. Her eloquence was so very remarkable, that more than twenty years of public speaking had not in the least diminished the interest with which she was listened to. Crowds attended on her ministry, not from idle curiosity, but for edification.

So beneficial had Mrs. Fletcher's ministrations at Madeley been found to be, that on the death of her husband, and the appointment of a successor, the new rector, not wishing to retard the progress of true Christianity in his parish, requested her to continue to use the building erected for her convenience just as she had formerly done. Mrs. Fletcher accepted the invitation so cordially given, and for many years was an efficient co-laborer with the rector.

Nor did the public career of Mrs. Fletcher mar her efficiency in the management of her domestic concerns. Both at Laytonstone and at Madeley, she attended carefully to her household, overseeing every thing connected with what is technically termed the women's department, with particular scrupulousness. At last her long and active life was nearing its close. For thirty years she had mourned the loss of her venerated husband, of whom, in her seventy-sixth year, she thus makes mention in her journal:

"August 13, 1815.—Thirty years, this day, I drank the bitter cup and closed the eyes of my beloved husband, and now I am myself in a dying state." Then, in view of her own approaching end, she continues: "Lord, prepare me. I feel death very near. My soul doth wait and long to the bosom of my God." A little earlier in this year she had written: "O, I long that the year fifteen [1815] may be the best year of my life." With the great apostle she could say, "Having a desire to depart, and be with Christ." And now she was realizing the fulfillment of that longing desire. Her labors were about ended. Soon she was to enter into the Christian's promised rest. On the 9th of December, 1815, she closed her eyes to sublunary objects to open them in the paradise above. Rev. Mr. Dodson, who attended her funeral, said of her: "Her congregations were fully as large, after thirty years' labors, as when she first opened her commission among them."

Where is the clergyman of whom more can be said?

MISS CROSBY.

While Miss Bosanquet was still living at Laytonstone, she had associated with her two other ladies equally eminent for their earnest piety, and for the diligence with which they prosecuted every good work. It was their delight, among other things, to assist Miss Bosanquet in dispensing her munificent charities, which were so managed as to be given without ostentation. These two intimate friends of Miss Bosanquet were Miss Crosby and Miss Tripp. From the very commencement of a regularly organized movement among the Methodists, class and band meetings had been found very useful as a means of instructing the people who had united with these societies, and, in the capacity of class-leaders and band-leaders, these three ladies were perhaps unsurpassed in England.

By what some would perhaps call a mere accidental circumstance, Miss Crosby found herself, upon an occasion, in a position where she must speak to a congregation or send them home disappointed, and be guilty of what she deemed an omission of a duty clearly pointed out to her by Providence. She had given no intimation of any intention, on her part, of doing more than she usually did at this place—simply leading her ordinary class—and had designed doing nothing more, when, on her arrival there, she found nearly two hundred persons present anxious for instruction. To lead the class in the customary manner was impossible. She, therefore, after conducting the preliminary services, delivered a general address, dwelling particularly on the necessity of repentance, and presenting Christ as a compassionate Redeemer. This extempore address was attended with such beneficial results, that her friends insisted upon her exercising her very evident talent in this direction, and, though averse to any thing like forwardness, she did not feel that she was justified in refusing to comply with the wishes of those on whose judgment she relied. Wherever she went, success attended her efforts, and she traveled extensively throughout the kingdom, speaking sometimes to very large audiences.

Dr. Stevens, the celebrated American Methodist historian, thus sums up the work of a single year. "In that time," says he, "she traveled nine hundred and sixty miles to hold two hundred and twenty public meetings, and about six hundred select meetings, besides writing one hundred and sixteen letters, many of them long ones, and holding many conversations in private with individuals who wished to consult her on religious subjects." In this latter department of the Christian ministry she particularly excelled.

Like her friend, Mrs. Fletcher, she lived to a very old age; and at seventy-five, or nearly that, calmly composed herself for death, by a vigorous effort of the will closing her own eyes and mouth. Her demise occurred October 24, 1804.

ANN HASSELTINE.

The first wife of the Rev. Adoniram Judson was a brilliant exemplification of the truth of the position we have advanced—namely, that a woman may be endowed with intellectual powers of a high order; that she may assiduously cultivate those powers and employ them in advancing objects that commend themselves to her judgment outside of her own family circle; that she may become an active and efficient participator in affairs of a public nature, requiring of her wisdom, eloquence, and courage; and all this without her deteriorating in the slightest degree in any of the valuable qualities or attractive graces that characterize a truly womanly woman.

Mrs. Judson's history, as connected with the Burmese Mission, which her husband and herself were instruments in the hand of God in establishing, is too well known to require extended notice here. A few points, however, may be glanced at. Throughout the difficulties which beset them during the first year after their arrival at Calcutta, when there seemed to be no open door through which they might enter upon their destined work, and all their hopes of usefulness seemed doomed to disappointment, Mrs. Judson was as little disposed to succumb to these adverse circumstances as her husband.

The British East India Company did not favor Christian missions, and were at that time (1812) particularly unfriendly to American missionaries. They had spent but a few days in the congenial society of the venerable Dr. Carey's hospitable home, when they were ordered, by the Government, to leave the country and return to America. Hoping to be allowed to prosecute their work in some country not under the Company's jurisdiction, they solicited and obtained permission to go to the Isle of France. But before Mr. and Mrs. Judson were able to secure a passage there, they received a new order from the Government commanding them to embark on a vessel bound for England.

Just then they heard of a vessel about to sail for the Isle of France, and applied for a passport to go on her, but were refused. The captain, however, though knowing of the refusal, allowed them to embark. The vessel was overtaken by a Government dispatch, forbidding the pilot to conduct it further seaward, because there were persons on board who had been ordered to England. They were obliged to land; but finally the captain was induced to disregard orders so far as to allow Mrs. Judson to return to the vessel, and to convey her and their baggage to a point opposite a tavern, a number of miles down the river, Mr. Judson being left to make his way as best he could.

Let us imagine that refined and tenderly reared lady, landing from the pilot's boat, which he had kindly sent to take her ashore, alone, a stranger in a foreign land, uncertain of the character of the place in which she was obliged to seek shelter, and not knowing what might occur to prevent her husband rejoining her. Instead of weakly yielding to despondency, she promptly engaged a boat to go out after the vessel, to bring their effects ashore. Then, though impenetrable darkness so shrouded their future that she could not see how the next step was to be taken, she looked for light upon their pathway, and deliverance from their perplexities, to Him whom they served, and calmly trusted the issue to Him. Before night, Mr. Judson arrived at the place where his wife waited, in safety, as did also their baggage.

For three days they could see no way out of their difficulty. Then they received, from an unknown friend, the necessary pass. Hastening down the river at a point seventy miles distant, they found the vessel they had left, were received on board, and allowed to continue their voyage.

When they dropped anchor at the Isle of France, the dangers of the voyage, and the trials that had preceded it over, they were looking forward to a season of enjoyment in the society of their associate missionaries, Mr. and Mrs. Newell, who had accompanied them on the voyage from America, and had preceded them from Calcutta to the Isle of France. But disappointment deeper, sadder than any that had gone before, awaited them. Mrs. Judson says: "Have at last arrived in port; but O, what news—what distressing news! Harriet (Mrs. Newell) is dead. Harriet, my dear friend, my earliest associate in the mission, is no more. O death, could not this wide world afford thee victims enough, but thou must enter the family of a solitary few, whose comfort and happiness depended so much on the society of each other? Could not this infant mission be shielded from thy shafts?" "But be still, my heart, and know that God has done it. Just and true are thy ways, O thou King of saints!"

To her sorrow for her friend and her anxiety at the uncertainties of their situation, was added, while on the island, a severe attack of illness. But when a field supposed to be accessible to missionaries was determined upon, though only partially recovered, she cheerfully prepared to brave new dangers and the repetition of former trials. They sailed for Madras; and, on their arrival there, found but one ship in the harbor ready for sea, and that not bound for their desired port, but for Burma. They had intended going to Burma when they first arrived in India, but had been dissuaded from so doing by the representations of their friends that the country was altogether inaccessible to missionaries. They dared not remain long in Madras, lest the officials of the East India Company should send them back to America. Thus, every other way being closed up against them, they were obliged to turn their faces toward that country in which they became so eminently useful.

The voyage was one of discomfort and peril. When they arrived at Rangoon, then the capital of Burma, Mrs. Judson was so weak that she had to be carried in an arm-chair from the landing. Thankful to have at last found a resting-place, they as quickly as possible established themselves in the house they were to occupy.

As soon as Mrs. Judson's health was sufficiently restored, they gave their attention to the study of the Burmese language. It is worthy of remark, that although Mrs. Judson charged herself with the entire management of family affairs, in order that Mr. Judson might not be interrupted in prosecuting the study of the language, yet she made more rapid progress in acquiring it than he did. Subsequently, she studied the Siamese language also, and translated a Catechism and one of the Gospels into that tongue. As soon as she was able to make herself understood, she diligently endeavored to impart the knowledge of the truth, as it is in Jesus, to those who would listen to her instructions. Though they were attentive and inquisitive, it was long before fruit appeared; but undiscouraged, she, with prayer and faith, continued to sow beside all waters.

Mrs. Judson was surprised at the native intelligence and reflecting minds possessed by some of the Burmese women. The case of a woman named May-Meulah is given as an instance of this:

"Previous to the arrival of the missionaries in her country, her active mind was led to inquire the origin of all things. Who created all that her eyes beheld? she inquired of all she met, and visited priests and teachers in vain; and such was her anxiety, that her friends feared for her reason. She resolved to learn to read, that she might consult the sacred books. Her husband, willing to gratify her curiosity, taught her to read, himself. In their sacred literature she found nothing satisfactory. For ten years she prosecuted her inquiries, when God in his providence brought to her notice a tract written by Mr. Judson in the Burmese language, which so far solved her difficulties, that she was led to seek out its author. From him she learned the truths of the Gospel, and, by the Holy Spirit, those truths were made the means of her conversion."

Mrs. Judson's politic mind seeing the probable importance to the mission of making friends in high places, she procured an introduction to the wife of the viceroy, and, while visiting her, met the viceroy also. After giving an interesting account of the visit, she adds: "My object in visiting her was, that if we should get into any difficulty with the Burmans, I could have access to her, when perhaps it would not be possible for Mr. Judson to have an audience with the viceroy."

Thus studying, teaching, and planning; laboring with her hands, and enduring pain, sickness, and sorrow; unsolaced by Christian society, except her husband's,—three anxious years passed.

In their course, her first-born had come to warm her heart with a new love, and, for a few brief months, to delight them with the unfolding of his baby graces. Then death entered, and bore away their darling, and left hearts and home more lonely than before.

The arrival of additional missionaries from America—Mr. and Mrs. Hough—in the Autumn of 1816, for a time greatly cheered and encouraged them. But fresh trials were in store for them. Mr. Judson had embarked for the province of Arracan; and when they were daily looking for his return, a vessel arrived from the port to which he had sailed, bringing the disheartening tidings that neither he nor the vessel in which he had sailed had been heard of there. While, tortured by suspense on Mr. Judson's account, new terrors alarmed the mission family. Mr. Hough was ordered to the court-house, and detained there for days under a threat that "if he did not tell all the truth in relation to the foreigners, they would write with his heart's blood." Not understanding the language of his accusers, he was unable to plead his own cause, and he had no male friend to do it for him. Had Mrs. Judson, in this extremity, allowed herself to be absorbed in her own sorrow, or yielded to timidity, Mr. Hough would probably have suffered a long and rigorous confinement, if indeed he had escaped with his life. But undaunted by the odium, or even danger, that might accrue to herself, she, in violation of court etiquette, presented herself at the palace with a petition in Mr. Hough's behalf. The viceroy, without manifesting any displeasure at the breach of etiquette, ordered Mr. Hough to be set at liberty.

Six months of painful suspense passed, and yet no tidings of Mr. Judson. That dreadful scourge, the cholera, was raging, and they were alarmed by rumors of war. Mr. Hough resolved to remove his family to Bengal, and urged Mrs. Judson to accompany them. She says: "I have ever felt resolved not to make any movement till I hear from Mr. Judson. Within a few days, however, some circumstances have occurred which have induced me to make preparations for a voyage. There is but one remaining ship in the river; and if an embargo is laid on English ships, it will be impossible for Mr. Judson—if he is yet alive—to return to this place." Therefore she yielded to the solicitations of Mr. and Mrs. Hough, and embarked with them. But, reviewing all the conditions of the case as the vessel slowly made its way down the river, it became clear to her mind that whatever were the dangers of her position at Rangoon, yet there was her post of duty. Once convinced of what was duty, this heroic woman was not to be deterred from it by dangers, however formidable. Her resolution was taken; and, having prevailed upon the captain to send a boat up the river with her, she returned alone to the mission-house. The wisdom of her decision was proved in a short time by the safe return of Mr. Judson. Later, when failing health necessitated a change of climate, Mrs. Judson showed herself as well adapted to moving gracefully in cultivated and refined society as she was to contending with adversity and danger in a heathen land.

Her eloquent appeals, both in England and America, in behalf of the perishing millions of the East, and her history of the Burmese Mission, prepared during her visit to the United States, stirred up missionary zeal in the heart of Protestant Christendom, and gave an impetus to the cause of missions that has gone on accelerating to the present time.

In the mean time, other missionaries had arrived in Burma, among whom was Dr. Price, the fame of whose skill in medicine reached the ears of the king; and Dr. Price was ordered to Ava, then the capital. Dr. Price obeyed the summons; and Mr. Judson, anxious to make another effort to procure toleration for the Christians, accompanied him. The king received them kindly, determined to retain Dr. Price at Ava, and urgently insisted upon Mr. Judson's remaining also. Rejoiced to find the king so favorably disposed toward the Christians, Mr. Judson resolved to accept the invitation, but represented that he must return to Rangoon for his wife.

A few days after Mrs. Judson arrived from America, they therefore left Rangoon, and commenced a mission at Ava; which soon became to them the theater of such martyr-like sufferings and exalted heroism as to do justice to which would require a volume. Erelong, the war so long feared between the British and the Burmese actually broke out. The Englishmen at Ava were all seized and imprisoned, and with them Mr. Judson and Dr. Price. In vain the missionaries protested that they were not Englishmen. Identical with the latter in language, religion, manners, dress, etc., and receiving their funds through an English house, the Burmese could not, or would not, understand that they belonged to another nation.

Mrs. Judson was not allowed to leave her own house till the third day; a guard having been placed around it, and no one allowed to enter or leave it but at the penalty of life. She obtained egress at last, by causing the governor to be informed that she wished to visit him with a present. The guard were then ordered to allow her to pass. Her plea for their release was without effect; but she was directed to an officer with whom she might arrange with regard to making them more comfortable. By paying a considerable sum of money to this man, she obtained a promise that their sufferings should be mitigated.

The Governor gave her an order for her admittance to the prison, but she was not allowed to enter. She saw Mr. Judson at the door, whither he crawled to speak with her. But even this sad communing was cut short by a rude order to Mrs. Judson to "depart, or they would pull her out." She was, however, allowed to supply the prisoners with food, and mats to lie upon.

This was the beginning of a long series of such visits to the prison—of efforts for the comfort of the prisoners, and appeals in their behalf to jailers, petty officers, magistrates, governors, or members of the royal family.

She was subjected to all manner of extortion and annoyance, being repeatedly brought before the authorities on the most absurd charges. The fear that her husband would be put to death so haunted her, that she was willing to meet the most exorbitant demands, hoping thereby to conciliate his persecutors.

After she had succeeded in effecting some slight improvement in their condition, all was reversed by a disastrous battle; the success of the British being visited upon the prisoners, by the withdrawal of all the little comforts Mrs. Judson had at so much cost and trouble obtained for them. When they were dragged from one city to another, she followed, renewing the same wearing round of toiling, pleading, paying, to procure some alleviation of their misery.

The estimation in which she was held by those acquainted with the facts, may be seen by the following, written by one of Mr. Judson's fellow-prisoners:

"Mrs. Judson was the author of those eloquent and forcible appeals to the Government which prepared them by degrees for submission to terms of peace, never expected by any who knew the haughtiness and inflexible pride of the Burmese Court.

"And while on this subject, the overflowings of grateful feelings, on behalf of myself and fellow-prisoners, compel me to add a tribute of public thanks to that amiable and humane female, who, though living at a distance of two miles from our prison, without any means of conveyance, and very feeble in health, forgot her own comfort and infirmity, and almost every day visited us, sought out and administered to our wants, and contributed in every way to alleviate our misery.

"When we were all left by the Government destitute of food, she, with unwearied perseverance, by some means or other, obtained for us a constant supply.

" ... When the unfeeling avarice of our keepers confined us inside, or made our feet fast in the stocks, she, like a ministering angel, never ceased her applications to the Government until she was authorized to communicate to us the grateful news of our enlargement, or of a respite from our galling oppressions.

"Besides all this, it was unquestionably owing in a chief degree to the repeated eloquence and forcible appeals of Mrs. Judson, that the untutored Burman was finally made willing to secure the welfare of his country by a sincere peace."

The war being over, Mr. Judson determined to remove into one of the provinces ceded to the British; and the new town of Amherst was selected as their place of residence.

The natives converted to Christianity through the instrumentality of the missionaries, had been dispersed during the war; and many of them now gathered to Amherst, to enjoy again the instructions of their beloved teachers. Their prospects now seemed highly encouraging; and Mr. Judson departed on a journey by which he hoped to advance the interests of the mission, leaving Mrs. Judson engaged with her characteristic energy in carrying forward arrangements to facilitate their work.

But never more were that clear head, ready hand, and sympathetic heart to aid or encourage him in his labors, or succor him in the hour of calamity. Her work was done.

A fever seized her, and her constitution, undermined by the exhausting sufferings, mental and physical, through which she had passed during the war, was not able to withstand the violence of the disease. There, without husband or kindred to receive her frail infant from her paralyzing arms, or to speak words of love or comfort in her dying ears, she battled with the last enemy, and terminated her singularly eventful and useful life.

In 1848, more than twenty years after her death, a writer in the Calcutta Review thus speaks of her:

"Of Mrs. Judson, little is known in the noisy world. Few, comparatively, are acquainted with her name—few with her actions; but if any woman, since the first arrival of the white strangers on the shores of India, has, on that great theater of war stretching between the mouth of the Irrawaddy and the borders of Hindoo Koosh, rightly earned for herself the title of a heroine, Mrs. Judson has, by her doings and sufferings, fairly earned the distinction—a distinction, be it said, which her true woman's nature would have very little appreciated. Still, it is right that she should be honored by the world. Her sufferings were far more unendurable, her heroism far more noble, than any which in more recent times have been so much pitied and so much applauded.... She was the real heroine. The annals in the East present us with no parallel."

SARAH HALL BOARDMAN JUDSON.

Who so worthily followed in the footsteps of the first Mrs. Judson, arrived in India with her first husband, the Rev. George D. Boardman, while Mr. Judson and his fellow-sufferers were still prisoners in Ava. They remained in Calcutta till the close of the war, and some time after, preparing themselves by the study of the Burmese language, etc., for their subsequent career of usefulness in Burma.

After they had joined the other missionaries at Amherst, Maulmain was determined upon as the scene of their future labors, and thither they repaired. The dangers that encompassed their new residence were such as in the presence of which even stout hearts might have been excused for quailing. The mission-house was a slight structure of bamboos, constituting scarcely any obstruction to assailants disposed to effect an entrance, and in such close proximity to the jungle that the slumbers of the missionaries were frequently disturbed by the howling of the wild beasts, whose lairs had so recently given place to human habitations. Maulmain was then a new city that had suddenly sprung into existence within the territory ceded to the British.

They had been settled in their new abode but a few weeks, when it was entered in the night by robbers, who overhauled all their effects, and carried away most of their valuables while they slept.

Mrs. Boardman, speaking of the event, says: "After the first amazement had a little subsided, I raised my eyes to the curtains surrounding our bed, and, to my indescribable emotion, saw two large holes cut, the one at the head and the other at the foot of the place where my dear husband had been sleeping. From that moment I quite forgot the stolen goods, and thought only of the treasure that was spared. In imagination I saw the assassins, with their horrid weapons, standing by our bedside, ready to do their worst had we been permitted to wake. O, how merciful was that watchful Providence which prolonged those powerful slumbers of that night, not allowing even the infant at my bosom to open its eyes at so critical a moment!"

After the robbery, a guard was sent from the English barracks to protect the missionaries in case of another visit from the marauders. One of the guard narrowly escaped death from a wild beast, which, rushing out of the jungle, leaped upon him while he was seated upon the veranda of the mission-house. Happily there was help at hand, and the animal was frightened away before the man had sustained serious injury.

Do we find Mrs. Boardman, while thus continually exposed to attacks of ravenous beasts and fierce banditti, deploring her situation, or expressing a desire to relinquish their work and return to the security and comfort of civilized life? On the contrary, she characterizes the months in which these events were transpiring as among the happiest of her life, because she felt that they were in the path of duty.

Afterward, in order to the further extension of missionary operations in the country, it was judged advisable for Mr. and Mrs. Boardman to leave the infant Church and the schools they had so successfully established at Maulmain, to the care of the other missionaries, and to proceed themselves to Tavoy. Accordingly, they sundered the ties that bound them to their first Indian home, and to the natives in whose conversion they had been instrumental, and again devoted their energies to breaking up new ground.

At Tavoy, after overcoming various obstacles and discouragements, they succeeded in establishing schools, and were cheered by indications of prosperity and some conversions among the natives.

The conversion of a Karen having attracted Mr. Boardman's attention to that interesting tribe, he, though scarcely recovered from a dangerous illness, made a tour among them with very gratifying results. It required no small amount of courage and of exalted devotion to the cause in which they were engaged to make Mrs. Boardman willing to be left, with her two little ones, among the natives in such a place, and with no better protection from outside dangers than a bamboo hut, her mind, at the same time, distressed by sad forebodings as to the probable consequence to her husband's feeble health of the exposures, toils, and dangers inseparable from his journey. But she was equal to this and to sorer trials which yet awaited them at Tavoy. Some of these were consequences of the rebellion of the Tavoyans against the British.

It was fortunate for Mr. and Mrs. Boardman that they, at that time, resided in a place occupied by a British force; small though the force was, yet to its presence they were probably indebted for their exemption from aggravated sufferings, if not from death itself.

From a letter of Mr. Boardman's we take some extracts. He says: "On Lord's-day morning, the 9th instant, at four o'clock, we were aroused from our quiet slumbers by the cry of 'Teacher, master, Tavoy rebels!' and ringing at all our doors and windows. We were soon awake to our extreme danger, as we heard not only a continual report of musketry within the town, but the balls were frequently passing over our heads and through our house; and, in a few moments, a large company of Tavoyans collected near our gate, and gave us reason to suspect they were consulting what to do with us. We lifted our hearts to God for protection, and Mrs. Boardman and little George were hurried away through a back door to a retired building in the rear. I lay down in the house (to escape the bullets), with a single Burman boy to watch and communicate the first intelligence."

On the kind invitation of Mrs. Burney, the wife of the English resident, who happened to be absent, they sought shelter from the storm of bullets in the Government-house. Mr. Boardman continues: "We had been at the Government-house but a short time, when it was agreed to evacuate the town and retire to the warf—a large wooden building of six rooms. Our greatest danger at this time arose from having, in one of the rooms where many were to sleep, and all of us were continually passing, several hundred barrels of gunpowder, to which, if fire should be communicated accidentally by ourselves, or mischievously by others, we should all perish at once. But, through the kind care of our Heavenly Father, we were preserved alive, and nothing of importance occurred until the morning of Thursday, a little before daybreak, when a party of five hundred advanced upon us from the town, and set fire to several houses and vessels near the warf. But God interposed in our behalf, and sent a heavy shower of rain, which extinguished the fire, while the Sepoys repelled the assailants."

Mrs. Boardman's biographer says: "What could be more appalling to the stoutest heart than the situation of Mrs. Boardman and her helpless family? Forced to flee from her frail hut, by bullets actually whizzing through it, and to pass through the town amid the yells of an infuriated rabble, her path sometimes impeded by the dead bodies of men who had fallen in the conflict; driven from the shelter of the Government-house, again to fly through the streets to the warf-house, and there, with three or four hundred fugitives crowded together, to await death, which threatened them in every form; hearing over their heads the rush of cannon balls, and seeing from burning buildings showers of sparks falling, one of which, if it reached the magazines under their roof, was sufficient to tear the building from its foundations, and whelm them all in one common ruin; or, if they escaped this danger, to know that hundreds of merciless barbarians, with knives and cutlasses, might, at any moment, rush into the building and destroy them,—can the female heart, we are ready to ask, endure such fearful trial? Yes: her mind was stayed by a 'courage not her own;' ... its calmness was that of a child who, in its utter helplessness, clings to its father's arm."

Her distress was aggravated by the alarming illness of her little boy, caused by the foul air of the warf-house and the absence of accustomed comforts; but, by the blessing of God upon her watchful care, it was spared to her.

"With what transports of joy did that suffering company hail the sight of the thin blue smoke that heralded the arrival of a steamer from Maulmain! Amid what distracting fears for her husband, left in the revolted city, her infant and herself, did Mrs. Boardman decide to go on board the steamer returning to Maulmain! And with what gratitude and joy did she, after several days of painful suspense, welcome to the same city her husband, and hear the tidings of the triumph of British power and the restoration of tranquillity!"

The rebellion being suppressed, Mr. Boardman set about repairing the mischief it had wrought. Their house had been cut to pieces, and their books, clothing, furniture, etc., carried off, mutilated, or destroyed. He gathered up such fragments as remained, and made the best arrangements in his power for future comfort and usefulness. Illness and other causes detained Mrs. Boardman for some time at Maulmain; but, before Winter, she had returned, and they were again engaged in their "loved employ," and were greatly strengthened and encouraged by seeing the good seed they had so faithfully sown amid opposition and discouragement, bringing forth fruit in the conversion of the heathen. But, even while rejoicing in these triumphs of the truth, Mrs. Boardman could not conceal from herself the conviction that a greater sorrow than any she had yet known was coming upon her. She had already twice experienced the agony that wrings the hearts of bereaved parents. Of their three children, two had been taken from them by death,—their first-born, a lovely and promising little girl of two years and eight months; and, afterward, their second son, a beautiful babe of eight months. But all the suffering and sorrow that she had yet endured seemed as nothing in comparison with that which now threatened to overwhelm her. Her beloved husband, who had been her comfort and solace under previous bereavements, was now himself too evidently passing away.

Ardently affectionate in her nature, she suffered intense anguish of spirit; but instead of giving way to rebellious repinings, the poor bruised heart carried its sorrows to the Great Healer, and in his strength she girded herself with fresh courage to do all that might yet be done.

When her dying husband could not be dissuaded from employing the last remnant of his ebbing life in another visit to his beloved Karens, we find her taking her place beside his portable couch, that his sufferings might receive every possible alleviation; that he might lack no tender attention that the most devoted love could give.

They arrived at their destination on the third day, and found awaiting them nearly a hundred natives, more than half of whom were applicants for baptism. The place prepared for the accommodation of Mr. and Mrs. Boardman and their little boy, was a room five feet wide and ten feet long, so low that Mrs. Boardman could not stand upright in it, and so insufficiently inclosed as not to shelter the sufferer from the cold and damp of the night air, or the scorching rays of the sun by day. Those who have known what it is to watch beside dying loved ones, witnessing suffering that they were powerless to relieve, can imagine the anguish that Mrs. Boardman endured in seeing her husband so near his end in that miserable place, destitute of the little comforts so needful in sickness. But with heroic determination she repressed her own sorrow, lest it might incapacitate her for assisting him while rallying his expiring energies for one more effort in his Master's cause. The poor worn body, though, was found unequal to the task assigned it by the zealous spirit, and he was forced to admit that his work was done.

Mrs. Boardman, speaking of their return journey, in which they were accompanied by large numbers of the sorrowing native converts, says: "But at four o'clock in the afternoon, we were overtaken by a violent shower of rain, accompanied by lightning and thunder. There was no house in sight, and we were obliged to remain in the open air, exposed to the merciless storm. We covered him with mats and blankets, and held our umbrellas over him, all to no purpose. I was obliged to stand and see the storm beating upon him till his mattress and pillows were drenched with rain. We hastened on, and soon came to a Tavoy house. The inhabitants at first refused us admittance.... After some persuasion, they admitted us into the house, or rather veranda; for they would not allow us to sleep inside, though I begged the privilege for my sick husband with tears.... The rain still continued, and his cot was wet, so that he was obliged to lie on the bamboo floor. Having found a place where our little boy could sleep without danger of falling through openings in the floor, I threw myself down, without undressing, beside my beloved husband."

Thus they passed the last night of his life; and, before another night, it was but a lifeless corpse that the attendants were bearing back to her now desolate home.

In her grief and loneliness, her heart doubtless yearned for the soothing sympathy of her kindred and friends in her native land. Who would have censured her, if in view of what had been achieved among the natives since their coming to Tavoy, and of all the trials and toils and dangers of her Indian life, it had seemed to her that her work was accomplished; and that it would then be no desertion of duty for her, with her little boy to educate, to return to America? If, during the first sad days of her bereavement, such thoughts flitted through her mind, they did not long find lodgment there. Soon the native converts began to come to her, as of old, with their difficulties and perplexities, and inquiries for instruction. The duty of responding to these appeals forbade the indulgence of engrossing sorrow, and caused her to realize that, when work for the Master was pressing on every hand, and one of the laborers had fallen in the field, his fellow-laborers, instead of relaxing their efforts, should feel it imperative on them, if possible, to redouble their diligence.

Thenceforward her labors became more onerous than they had been during Mr. Boardman's life; and they continued so, even after the arrival of the new missionaries, Mr. Mason and his wife, who of necessity were chiefly occupied with the study of the language. In one of her letters of this period she says:

"Every moment of my time is occupied, from sunrise till ten in the evening. It is late bed-time, and I am surrounded by five Karen women.... The Karens are beginning to come to us in companies; and with them, and our scholars in the town, and the care of my darling boy, you will scarce think I have much leisure for letter-writing."

Later, she writes: "The superintendence of the food and clothing of both the boarding-schools, together with the care of five day-schools under native teachers, devolves wholly on me."

She also made difficult journeys through the wild jungles to the Karen villages, to strengthen, encourage, and instruct the poor natives; thus performing efficiently, though informally, the work of an evangelist.

After her marriage with Dr. Judson, and her consequent return to Maulmain, she was still busily engaged in conducting schools, Bible-class, etc., besides attending to her family. She also learned the Peguan language, into which she translated the New Testament, a Life of Christ, and several tracts. In Burmese she had previously become proficient, and she translated "Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress" into that language. A number of the hymns prepared for the use of the mission were also from her pen.

At Maulmain she was exposed to fewer vicissitudes and dangers than at Tavoy, so that the intrepid aspect of her character became less conspicuous; but her life was filled up with increased maternal responsibilities and domestic cares, added to other arduous labors of the same class with those which she had previously discharged with so much sound judgment, and in which she exhibited so happily the ability to influence and govern those under her control, and at the same time to win their love and reverence for herself. One of her biographers says of her:

"Sweetness and strength, gentleness and firmness, were in her character most happily blended. Her mind was both poetical and practical. She had a refined taste, and a love for the beautiful as well as the excellent."

In early life she wooed the Muses with respectable success; and though the stern labors of mature years left her little leisure for the indulgence of poetic fancies, yet the last expression of her love committed to writing flowed from her pen in numbers of touching grace and tenderness.

Her constitution having been broken down by her incessant toils, a voyage to America was recommended in order to recuperate it. On the voyage thither, when between the Isle of France and St. Helena, she died, and was buried on the latter island.

We have selected these two gifted Christian women as representative missionary women, who, though brilliant examples, did not excel many others in the host of devoted women who have gone out from Great Britain and America into the dark places of the earth, on the same godlike errand.

We have already mentioned the honored names of several philanthropic ladies, whose works praise them throughout Europe and America. The list might be extended indefinitely, but we have space for but a few.

THE MISSES CHANDLER.

The National Hospital erected for the Paralyzed and Epileptic (England) owes its origin to the humane efforts of two sisters, Joanna and Louisa Chandler. These ladies, finding that among all the charitable institutions existing in London there was not one into which a poor paralyzed man would be admitted, conceived the idea of establishing a hospital for that particular class of sufferers. Though only in moderate circumstances, they devoted two hundred pounds of their own means to the object. For five years, they received no assistance; but their continued appeals at length attracted public attention. Various philanthropic gentlemen and ladies became interested in the enterprise. The necessary funds were collected mainly by the exertions of Miss J. Chandler and the ladies who had associated themselves with her, and the hospital became an accomplished fact.

The same persevering energy, directed by sound judgment and practical business talent, was conspicuously displayed by Miss Adaline Cooper, in her efforts for the improvement of the condition and morals of the costermongers of Tothill Fields, Westminster. Among the degraded, they as a class were regarded as the most degraded. But, strong in her faith in the power of kindness, she went in among them, and commenced day and night schools, a Sunday-school, a mothers' meeting, and a temperance society. Through these appliances she influenced the women and children, but the men stood aloof. The more desperate even threatened to drive her and her assistants away; but she was not to be intimidated. She erected a handsome building for a Costermongers' Club; and constructed a dwelling-house large enough to accommodate fifty or sixty families. The entire expenditure for these purposes amounted to nearly nine thousand pounds.

Soon after the Club was formed, a large number of the members, perceiving the benefit of abstinence, signed the pledge. She formed a Bible-class for their improvement, and established a penny-bank for the Band of Hope.

In reward of her labors, she had the satisfaction of seeing a marked reformation in both their morals and circumstances. Very many of these poor people, the very name of whose calling had been a synonym for dishonesty and kindred vices, became sober, industrious, and honest men and women.

Sketches innumerable of other women of very great merit, particularly of those who have enriched our literature during the present century, might be added, did the limits of so small a volume permit; which it does not. It must suffice, therefore, to mention the names of a few of these, while the names of many others equally meritorious must necessarily be omitted.

First, we write Mrs. Browning, a name surrounded by a halo of glory from the scintillations of her own genius.

Charlotte BrontÉ, Miss Mulock, Mrs. Wood, and Mrs. Oliphant form a brilliant galaxy, but scarcely outshine others in the same department.

Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe has made her mark upon her age, and is not likely to be forgotten while the War of Secession is remembered.

The sweet strains of the sisters Cary will linger long in the ears and hearts of the lovers of song.

The name of the gentle Swede, Fredrika Bremer, will live as long as the language in which she writes shall be spoken or read; while Mary Howitt, her translator, is, through these beautiful translations, and her own inimitably chaste and home-like stones, endeared to both English and American hearts.

Mrs. Willard will bear a favorable comparison with any other American historian, let him be ever so famous.

Mrs. Moodie and her gifted sisters, Mrs. Trail and Miss Strickland, have acquired a world-wide reputation by their pens.

Which of our living authors possesses a more terse or vigorous style than Gail Hamilton? And where are more self-sacrificing spirits to be found than in those bands of lady missionaries, worthy successors of Harriet Newell and Ann Hasseltine Judson, who every year leave our coasts to carry the Gospel to heathen lands?

Large numbers of clever women are attracting the attention of the thinking people of both England and America, not only as public speakers and leaders of much-needed reforms, but for the honorable position to which they have attained in literary and scientific circles and in the arts. The scenes, however, in which they are the active participants are still transpiring; and therefore these women, some of them both honorable and great, in the best and highest acceptation of the terms, can not just at the present be classed among the women of history. But though they are not far enough back in the past to be placed in this category, they are furnishing the materials for both an instructive and an interesting one in the future; and that future, too, not very far distant. All honor to the brave, the good, and true among them.

THE END