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



III.

ELIZABETH HERVEY, OF BOMBAY.



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

On the evening of the first Sabbath in August, 1830, the windows of Park Street Church gave out a cheerful light; and he who entered saw congregated there an immense multitude of men and women. The pews, the aisles, the choir, were all filled, and deep interest was on all countenances and in all hearts. The occasion which drew this vast congregation was the setting apart 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 come together to hear their voices, to see their countenances, for the last time. Soon broke over that crowd of human beings the well-known hymn, sung by 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 missionaries were commended to God and to the word of his power; the blessing of Heaven was 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 of the church, were committed.

From the instructions given those beloved missionaries on that occasion we give 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 your native land, and to enter upon a course of evangelical labors for the benefit of distant heathens.

"On such an occasion, it is obviously proper in itself, as well as conformable to general usage, to address to you in public some considerations, in the form of advice and instructions, from those who have the superintendence of the mission with which you are to be connected. This is to you a solemn and eventful hour; and if, as we hope and believe, you have approached it with an earnest and truly benevolent desire to become heralds of divine mercy to your perishing fellow-men, it will be an hour always remembered with joy and gratitude in the future stages of your existence. If you partake of that holy, self-denying spirit which brought down the Son of God from heaven,—if you have any true sympathy with the apostles, who considered it as a great calamity to themselves if they were hindered in the work of preaching the gospel,—you will hereafter be able to say, with pure and indescribable delight, There was a period in our history when we publicly, in the house of God and in the presence of many Christian friends, devoted our lives to the service of Christ among the heathen. There was a time when the attachments to friends and country were dissolved, under the influence of that love which seeketh not its own, and which embraces, in its comprehensive regards, the suffering and the destitute of every clime.

"Congratulating you, therefore, on the possession of a temper which, if actually possessed, is of more value to you than all which this country or this world can furnish, we proceed to offer the following directions and remarks:—

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

"Without unnecessary loss of time, you will proceed to Bombay. Here a large and most interesting field invites your labor—interesting, not so much from any harvest which has been already gathered, nor because the precise period of ingathering can now be foreseen by human vision, as from the consideration that here the first mission of the Board was established; that here a noble and successful effort was made by our missionaries in pleading before governors the claims of the gospel; that here the first messengers of our churches cheerfully labored, till most of them have fallen asleep, their lives having been worn out by incessant exposure and toil; 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 of salvation is delivered and the Scriptures are printed and circulated, while multitudes of children are trained up to read, reflect, and reason.

"The Christian community sends you forth, dear brethren, as messengers from our churches to the heathen. In the name of our churches we bid you God speed. The very act of our sending you forth in the name of the church implies that we hold ourselves bound to the same cause. By these public services we are solemnly pledged to regard you as a part of ourselves, not the less dear certainly because distant, your very distance being occasioned by your attachment to the common interests of the church. You have a just claim upon your Christian brethren in America for their prayers, their sympathies, and such a supply of your temporal necessities as 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 would unanimously sustain us in expressing these reciprocal obligations.

"Still, brethren, you must be sensible that the manner in which these pledges shall be redeemed will depend much upon the grace which is vouchsafed from above. If the spirit of piety should become low in our churches; if jealousy should divide their efforts; if professed Christians should generally become more entangled with this world,—the missionary enterprise of the country will be enfeebled. We would not distress you with apprehensions of this kind further than is requisite to call forth your earnest, constant, and importunate prayers that God would not leave our churches to a retrograde movement, which, in the present circumstances of the world, would be a most deplorable event.

"Confiding in that Savior who gave himself for the church and who loves it with an everlasting love, we affectionately commend you to his protection and blessing. When he, as the great Shepherd, shall gather his sheep into one fold, may you, and we, and multitudes of heathens saved by your instrumentality, be numbered among his chosen; and to him shall be glory everlasting."

The next morning the missionaries, with their wives, embarked on board the ship Corvo, for Calcutta. On the wharf the hymn was sung and the prayer offered; and the vessel swung off from the wharf amid the prayers and tears of the spectators. The vessel had a safe passage, and all the attention of Captain 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 do good to others. Her young heart seemed set upon the work of benefiting her fellow-creatures; and she would make any sacrifice to confer happiness upon those around her. Though her heart had not been renewed and her mind made acquainted with the high and holy motives of the gospel, yet she recognized her obligations to others, and, while quite a child, endeavored faithfully to discharge them.

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

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

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

After her acquaintance with Mr. Hervey commenced, the question of a missionary life was laid out before her. She had often pondered upon it and prayed God to open the effectual door before her; and when the opportunity was presented, her heart warmly responded to the call from Heaven. That she had some trials and misgivings upon the subject cannot be doubted; but these 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 trial with unshaken firmness and devotion. Not long before they sailed for Bombay her husband preached a sermon, in which he gave expression to his own desires to promote the glory of God. In these expressions his heroic companion doubtless united; and though she could not publicly declare her own determination, doubtless her heart was united with his, not only in the social relations of life, but also in the firm and holy efforts for the elevation of our race. In that sermon, which we believe to have been the expression of the feelings of the fallen wife, Mr. Hervey says,—

"Besides the various objects in your own town and country which may have a claim on your charity, there are many millions of your fellow-creatures abroad who have a still stronger claim; stronger, because their woes are deeper 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 to you the unsearchable riches of Christ, and the inconceivable miseries of men who are living and dying without a knowledge of him, in such a light that every one of you should weep because you have not a thousand fold more wealth to give, ten thousand hearts to pray, and twice ten thousand hands to labor for their salvation! I have no doubt that such would be your feelings, if you could now see things in the light in which you will see them 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 of sinners perishing for want of that gospel which you possess, was something else than to heap together wealth to pamper 'the lusts of the flesh, the lusts of the eye, and the pride of life.' But the riches of Christ eternity will be too short to unfold; and I have neither time nor ability to present to your minds any thing like an adequate conception of the miseries of the heathen. That they are living and dying without the gospel, is enough to give 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 he left and what he submitted to in order to raise men to the riches of his everlasting 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 of his eye, and all the attributes of his name stand pledged for its final triumph. This cause he has intrusted, in a very important sense, to his disciples—beings in whose nature he came and suffered; and without their instrumentality it never did, and never will, go on.

"Thus he gives you all the privilege of being co-workers with him in saving the heathen. If you are not permitted to go in person to carry them the gospel, yet you may be perhaps equally useful by your prayers, and by furnishing the means for sending those who shall preach to them the unsearchable riches of Christ. If, then, you would elevate the degraded heathen to the purity of Christians, send them the gospel. If you would rescue them, not only from their present wretchedness, but from their darker prospects in the world to come, and inspire them with the high hopes of eternal salvation, send them the gospel. If you would see them at the last day on the right hand of the Son of man, and hear their bursting praises to God for your liberality and prayers, which helped to bring them there, now show how high you value their souls by contributing to send them the gospel, and by your fervent prayers that the blessing of the Lord may accompany your bounty and make it the means of their salvation.

"If other motives than those which have been presented were necessary to encourage you in this good work, I might prove to you that you will be the richer for every sacrifice you make to promote the cause of Christ; if not richer in temporal, yet certainly in spiritual blessings. I might say to you, in the language of Him who cannot lie, who holds the elements in his hand and can command them to spare or destroy your wealth, to bless or blast the work of your hands, 'The liberal soul shall be made fat; and he that watereth shall be watered also himself.' 'There is that scattereth, and yet increaseth; and there is that withholdeth more than is meet, but it tendeth to poverty.' Or, in the words of Him who gave up all his wealth and his 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 to plead in his name mainly on the one great argument in the text; for in the whole compass of the universe there is not a motive to benevolent action so commanding as that. And I am persuaded it has not been presented to your minds in vain. No, I have been addressing those who know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ; who feel thankful for that grace; and whose hearts burn within them to spread it abroad through the whole world.

"Is there one here who wishes to be excused from this work? Why, my brother, would you be excused? Look again. Is it no privilege to be allowed to do something to promote that cause for which patriarchs, prophets, apostles, and martyrs have prayed, and toiled, and died? Is it no privilege to help forward that cause which has engaged the hearts and hands of all the wise and good of every age? Is it no privilege to be associated with the choicest spirits now on earth in promoting the sublimest, the most benevolent, the most godlike cause that ever did or can employ 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 deepest interest in the bosoms of all the heavenly host, and which is the occasion of their loudest and loftiest songs of praise? Is it no privilege to do something for Him 'who left the highest throne in glory for the cross of deepest woe,' in order to give men a place in the mansions of his love? Is it no privilege to be a coworker with the blessed God in rescuing souls from a course of eternal sinning and suffering, and raising them to everlasting holiness and happiness and glory? Is it no privilege to aid in forwarding the only cause for which the world was made and for which all nature stands? The man who does not esteem it a high privilege that he may do something to promote such a cause may have the name, but cannot have the heart, 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 his inheritance, and the uttermost parts of the earth for his possession.' He did not 'humble himself and become obedient unto death' for nought. 'He shall see of the travail of his soul and be satisfied.' 'All the ends of the earth shall see the salvation of our God.' 'The mouth of the Lord hath spoken it.'

"There is a mighty stir among the nations. The melting appeals from among the 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, to preach the unsearchable riches of Christ to some of these distant heathen. He feels for the destitute in his own beloved land; but while he knows there are so many millions of immortal beings more destitute,—while he is to act under the commission, 'Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature,' and while so few who are better qualified can think it their duty to these unhappy beings,—he feels that 'woe will be unto him if he preaches not the gospel unto them!'"

Inspired with such feelings, and cherishing such views, our sister went out to declare the love of God on heathen soil. Like those who before her had devoted themselves to the service of the Savior, she went forth not knowing whither 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; her work was to be short, and her course quickly run. A few months only was she permitted to do good as she desired ere death called her away to the rest beyond the grave. She fell an early victim to her own self-sacrificing disposition. Shortly after her arrival at Bombay she was prostrated by the dysentery, which terminated her labors and her sorrows on the 3d of May, 1831.

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

"Before this reaches you I trust, you will have heard of the goodness of the Lord in bearing us safely over all the dangers of the Atlantic and Indian Seas, in providing us friends in Calcutta who spared no pains to make our stay in that city agreeable and happy, and in bringing us in safety to this, the destined field of our labors, our disappointments, our difficulties, and, as we expected when we left the shores of our native land, of our deaths. And although, since our arrival here, his afflicting hand has been laid heavily upon me, still I would speak only of his goodness. For when he afflicts and chastens his children, it is in loving kindness and tender mercy. It is not for his pleasure, but for their profit, that they may be partakers of his holiness. But if he has been good to me, he has been doubly so to your and my dear Elizabeth. Yes, God has made all his goodness to pass before her; for he has released her from all her sins and sufferings, and taken her to himself. 'O,' said she, 'how will the intelligence rend the hearts of my dear parents and sisters!' She paused a moment, and then added, 'But they will be supported. They know where to look for consolation.' Weep with me, my dear, dear parents, a little moment, and then we will together review the painful but merciful scene of her last sufferings.

"All that I have said above shows only the afflicting hand of God in this dispensation, which has snatched from me thus early the dear companion of my wanderings and toils, the tender partner of my joys and sorrows, the beloved wife of my heart; but in what remains to be said, will be seen his hand of goodness and mercy. In all her sufferings she was never heard to utter a single murmur or complaint, but was continually magnifying the goodness of the Lord. 'I did hope,' said she, 'that I should be permitted to do something towards elevating the miserable and degraded females of India to a state of refinement and happiness; but since God decides otherwise, his will be done. In this great conflict, some must fall as soon as 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 have fallen a victim to the climate of India even before you have commenced your labors 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, and never have for a moment regretted that I came here. No; had I foreseen this hour, and all I have endured since I left America, I should have decided just 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 people of God. She was affected to tears at the kindness of her physicians and others who attended her. She addressed the members of the mission who called to see her on the importance of living to God and of being faithful in his service. She expressed an earnest desire that God would make her death 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 removal a greater blessing to the mission and to India than many years of her poor service could be. The day before she died she requested me to read to her the twelfth chapter of Isaiah. 'Yes,' said she with emphasis, 'God is my salvation.' As I read along she repeated after me the third verse, emphasizing the word 'wells'—'with joy shall ye draw water out of the wells of salvation.' Some time afterward she wished me to read the fourteenth chapter of John, which she said afforded her much comfort. She repeated from time to time many striking texts of Scripture and parts of hymns, 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 beautiful and 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, where is thy victory? The sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the law.' With animation she exclaimed, in addition, 'But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.' Mr. Allen said he hoped the Savior would be with her as she walked through the dark valley of the shadow of death. 'If this,' she said, 'is the dark valley, it has not 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 severe spasm, that seemed to convulse her whole frame, she exclaimed, 'O the pains, the groans, the dying strife! The spirit seems to be struggling and fluttering to get free from this cumbersome body.' She had, during most of her sickness, bright views of the perfections of God. 'His awful holiness,' she said, 'appeared the most lovely of all his attributes.' At one time she said she wanted words to express her views of the majesty and glory of Christ. '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 a universe 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 she would see the babe. It was brought into the room. 'Let my husband,' she said, 'bring him to me.' I carried the child to her. She took it in one arm, and with the other embraced my neck. After a moment she looked up to the spectators with a smile, and said, 'Here is my family—my treasure—my earthly all. I cheerfully resign them into the hands of God.' On the morning of the day she expired I asked if she wished to send any particular message to any of her friends. She replied she did, and asked me to write what she dictated.

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

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

When a beloved fellow-laborer dies at home; when the place of some dear one is vacated by death; when the hand of labor ceases to move and the heart of sympathy ceases to beat,—all around are saddened by the event: gloom covers the weeping church, and all who knew the fallen one bend in tearful silence over the grave. But when a missionary dies we can form no opinion of the feelings of those who are left in sorrow. Away from home and all the endeared scenes of early life, they become more strongly and firmly attached to each other. Between the members of the little band are formed the most tender ties, the most hallowed relations; and when one only departs, all hearts grieve and bleed as if the dearest earthly object had been removed.

Mrs. Hervey was buried near the scene of her labors—on heathen soil. The solemn funeral service and the pang of death were calculated to deepen the impression upon the minds of the converted and unconverted people; and the hymn, as it sent its mournful echo along the borders of the field of graves and sounded like the song of an angel amid the homes of the living, turned many a thought forward to that haven where the saint shall break from the repose of death, and come forth to the resurrection of the just, a new and glorified 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 special providence,—did we not feel that he is too wise to err, too good to be unkind,—our hearts would often faint as we hear of our devoted missionaries falling into the grave ere they have been permitted to labor to any considerable degree for the conversion of the heathen. Did we not feel perfectly satisfied in relation to the wisdom and mercy of the great Head of the church, we might well fold our hands and ask, "Will God be angry forever?" But who does not know that Jehovah is able to accomplish more by our deaths than we are able to accomplish by our lives? Who does not know that, from the very ashes of the tomb, he can send up a voice which will echo amid the shades of night and thrill the cold hearts of degraded men?

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

Men admit that certain laws control the world of planets, the world of animal life, the world of intellect and reason; but seem not to have the idea that the providences are all under God's control, and regulated by fixed and certain laws. The sparrow that flits from bush to tree, and the mighty angel that wheels in everlasting circles around God's throne, are alike under divine protection. The feeblest insect which creeps upon the earth, and the highest archangel which ministers to God above, are equally safe beneath the divine protection. The Being who holds the universe, who keeps worlds in their places, is also employed to count the feathers of the young 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. The conversion of the world is in accordance with his unalterable will and purpose; it was an article in the grand treaty of Calvary; and by all that God is has he pledged himself to give "the heathen to his Son for an inheritance, and the uttermost parts of the earth for a possession." Hence when, in the accomplishment of his grand design, one after another who went forth with high hope and joyful expectation is cut down, we may expect to see others raised up ready to accomplish greater good than their fallen predecessors.

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 victory over sin.

Years ago the question was, "Who will go?" but now the question is being asked, "Who will stay at home and let me go?" "Who will resign his place in 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 the highest glory of the Christian minister to be a missionary of the cross of Christ.

Thanks be to God, the Church is arousing herself to her high duty, and already 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, of Elizabeth Hervey, of Henrietta Shuck, of Sarah B. Judson, and of others who are now quietly sleeping the long sleep of death, are filled. Others as faithful have come on to do the work which they left unfinished, and to stand around the moral plants which they began to cultivate,

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



IV.

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 her efforts for human good were put forth; and here was the scene of her success, 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 vessel bound for New York. They arrived at the great city, and, after residing there 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 the Christian 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 believers of our own land gave evidence of having passed from death unto life. Interest in these boys soon led to solemn inquiry into the condition of their country. This inquiry resulted in the establishment of a school for the instruction of heathen youth who were found in our land; and of the privileges of this school these two boys gladly availed themselves.

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

On the 15th of October, 1819, in the vestry of Park Street Church, in Boston, they, with others, were organized into a church of the Lord Jesus. On the 23d of October this church set sail for the place of its destination—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, who were leaving home and all the dear associations of youth for a barbarous nation. 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 gayly pursued her way down the harbor, and was soon lost from sight.

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

Undismayed by the gross ignorance and encouraged by the abolition of idolatry, the servants of God went to work. They distributed themselves through the islands, and every where preached Jesus and the cross. The effects of their labors were so apparent that the American Board were encouraged to send out repeated reinforcements; and in the progress of time Mr. Stewart and his accomplished companion arrived at Hawaii on their sacred mission. Perhaps there is no mission station on the globe, no scene of missionary toil, where such glorious results have been accomplished, and such wonderful changes wrought, as at the Sandwich Islands. Mr. Bingham, speaking of the condition of the people at the time of his arrival among them, says, "The nation had, on our arrival, neither books, pen, nor pencil, for amusement or business, or for acquiring information or communicating thought. They sat, like Turks or tailors, on mats spread on the ground; dipped their fingers in the dish to eat their fish, poi, and dog flesh, without knife, fork, or spoon. They stretched themselves at full length on the mats to play cards or otherwise kill time. Their water they drank from a gourd shell; and awa, the juice of a narcotic root, chewed by others and mixed with water in the chewers' mouths, they drank, as their fathers had done, from a cocoa-nut shell, for the same purpose that other intoxicating drinks and liquors are taken."

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

But the speedy change from drunkenness to sobriety, from ignorance to comparative intelligence, from theft and falsehood to honesty and truth, from shameless indecency to purity and chastity, from the violation of the whole ten commandments to the sacred observance of these ten, from barbarism to civilization and refinement, from brutish idolatry to the holy service of God, was astonishing even to those through whose instrumentality it was brought about.

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

Perhaps we can convey no better idea of the change which a few years' labor produced 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. It is a beautiful and thrilling description of a Sabbath in an island where, a few years before, was nothing but idol worship, heathen rites and ceremonies, and ignorant superstitions.

"At an early hour of the morning, even before we had taken our breakfast on board 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 wending their way among the groves fringing the bay on the east, or descending from the hills and ravines on the north towards the chapel; and by degrees their numbers increased, till in a short time every path along the beach and over the uplands presented an almost unbroken procession of both sexes and of every age, all pressing to the house of God.

"Even to myself it was a sight of surprise; not at the magnitude of the population, but that the object for which they were evidently assembling should bring together so great a multitude, when at this very place, only four years ago, the known wishes and example of chiefs of high authority, the daily persuasions of the teachers, added to motives of curiosity and novelty, could scarce induce a hundred of the inhabitants to give an irregular 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 a brightly-gleaming Sabbath morning, was well calculated, with its associations, to prepare the mind for strong impressions on a nearer view, when the conclusion of our own public worship should allow us to go on shore. Mr. Goodrich had apprised us that he found it expedient to hold the services of the Sabbath, usually attended at all the other stations at nine o'clock in the morning and at four in the afternoon, both in the fore part of the day, that all might have the benefit of two sermons and yet reach home 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 services had commenced when we landed, large numbers were seen circling the doors without; but, as we afterward found, from the impossibility of obtaining places within. The house is an immense structure, capable of containing many thousands, every part of which was filled except a small area in front of the pulpit, where seats were reserved for us, and to which we made our way in slow and tedious procession, from the difficulty of finding a spot even 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 the congregation. The suspense of attention in the people was only of momentary duration, notwithstanding the entire novelty of the laced coats, cocked hats, and other appendages of naval uniform. I can scarce describe the emotions experienced in glancing an eye over the immense number, seated so 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 was most striking, and soon became, not only to myself, but to some of my fellow-officers, deeply affecting.

"With the exception of the inferior chiefs having charge of the district and their dependants, of two or three native members of the church and of the mission family, scarce one of the whole multitude was in any other than the native dress—the maro, the kihee, and the simple tapa, of their primitive state. In this respect, and in the attitude of sitting, the assembly was purely pagan; totally unlike those of the Society Islands; as unlike 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 an invisible but omnipotent Power—the Power that can alone melt and renew the heart of man, even as it alone brought it first into existence."

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

Harriet B. Tiffany was a native of Stamford, Connecticut. She was born on the 24th day of June, 1798. Her parents were honorably descended from an illustrious line, and Harriet inherited many of the noble qualities of her ancestors. Her youth was passed mostly in Stamford, Albany, and Cooperstown, in which places she endeared herself by many acts of kindness to all who knew her, and grew up to womanhood cherished and loved by all who came within the circle of her influence. In 1819 she passed through that mysterious change which is denominated regeneration. Repeated afflictions, the death of friends, and her own sickness led her to feel the need of a strong arm and a firm hope. Feeling the emptiness of earth, the vanity of human life, even in its best estate, she turned to Him who can give support to the soul in the hours of its dark night and guide it amid the gloom. By faith she saw the crucified One, and rested her sorrows and griefs on Him who was able to bear them. She was changed from darkness to light, from sin to holiness, from death to life.

The great subject of a missionary life was presented to her view, connected with a proposal to accompany Rev. C.S. Stewart to the Sandwich Islands as his assistant and companion. With trembling anxiety she submitted the case to 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 and honorable connections, who had always been surrounded with friends and educated in the circle of refinement and luxury, to leave all these. There were tender ties to be riven, fond associations to be broken up, dear friends to part with, and a loved home to leave behind; and when the momentous question was brought distinctly before her mind, it required a strong faith, a firm dependence on God, an entire submission to his will to induce her to take the solemn and important step; but, believing herself called upon by God, she decided in his favor, and lost sight of the sacrifice and self-denial of the undertaking.

She resolved to go—to go, though home was to be abandoned, friends to be left, loved scenes deserted, and a life of toil to be endured. She resolved to go—to go, though she might pass through a sea of tears, and at last leave her enfeebled body upon a couch that would have no kind friends to surround it when she died. She resolved to go, though she should find in savage 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 to go out to the Sandwich Islands under the care of the American Board. They sailed in company with a large number of others who were destined for the same laborious but delightful service. The sun of the 19th of November went down on many homes from which glad spirits had departed on their errand of mercy to a dying world; and on that day the eye of many a parent gazed upon the form of the child for the last time. Nor could a vessel leave our shores, having on her decks nearly thirty missionaries, without being followed by the prayers of more than the relatives of those who had departed. There was mingled joy and sorrow throughout the churches of New England, as the gales of winter wafted the gospel-freighted vessel to her distant destination.

They arrived, in April of the following year, at Honolulu; and, after a residence of a few days, located themselves at Lahaina, a town containing about twenty-five thousand inhabitants, who were mostly in a degraded condition. Here they found but few of the conveniences of life, and were obliged to live in little huts, which afforded but slight shelter from the scorching heat or the pelting rain. In these miserable tenements did the child of luxury and wealth reside, and in perfect contentment perform the duties of her station. She suffered, but did not complain; she labored hard, but was not weary; and, cheerful in her lot, smiled even at her privations and sorrows.

In 1825 her health began to fail. Unable longer to labor for her perishing heathen sisters, she sailed for England in order to enjoy medical advice and care; but instead of improving by the voyage, she continued to decline, until the hopelessness of her case became apparent. She embarked for America in July, 1826, her residence of a few months in England having rendered her no permanent benefit. In her low state the voyage was any thing but agreeable; and she arrived among her friends the mere shadow of what she was when, a few years before, she had gone forth in the flush of youth and the vigor of health.

For a time after her arrival strong hopes were cherished that she might recover. The balmy breezes of her own native valley, the kind congratulations of friends, the interest and excitement of a return to the scenes of youth gave color to her cheek and life to her step. But in the early part of 1830 the prospect of returning health was dashed, and Death appeared in all his terror. Long was her last sickness—so long that she groaned to depart and be with Christ. For many months she suffered and struggled on a weary bed, until the spirit call was heard, and golden gates were opened, and the ransomed one entered in. During this sickness she was sustained by the grace of God. Death found her ready, and led a willing victim 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 new cup of sorrow was put to her lips, meekly replied, "The cup which my Father hath mingled, shall I not drink it?" She was a remarkable instance of Christian 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 civilization and reformation in the Sandwich Islands has been rapidly progressing. The faith of the Church has been strong and confident, and she has exerted herself to save those islands from barbarism and ignorance. In her holy strength, and with her high commission, she has sent out her servants armed with the whole Christian armor. These men and women have preached Jesus and the cross with wonderful success. Struggling against the tide of obstacles and the barriers which sin raised in their pathway, they have advanced until they have caused an entire change in the customs and the religion of the people.

Nor have the natives been unwilling to render their assistance. They have cooperated with the missionaries, and nobly exerted themselves to bring the islands under Christian influences. Their efforts to erect temples in which they and their children may worship the only living and true God illustrate the zeal with which they toiled to accomplish good. Speaking of the large stone 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 into five companies, labored by rotation many days and weeks with patience and zeal."

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

"The stones were carried upon the shoulders of men forty or fifty rods. The coral for making the lime they procured by diving in two or three fathom water and detaching blocks, or fragments. If these were too heavy for the diver to bring up to his canoe with his hands, he ascended to the surface to 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 the canoe was thus laden, rowed it ashore and discharged his freight. By this process they procured about thirty cubic fathoms, or seven thousand seven hundred and seventy-six cubic feet. To burn this mass, the church members brought from the mountain side, upon their shoulders, forty cords of wood. The lime being burned, the women took it in calabashes, or large gourd shells, and bore it on their shoulders to the place of building; also sand and water for making the mortar. Thus about seven hundred barrels each of lime, sand, and water, making about two thousand barrels, equal to three hundred 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 to see erected for themselves and for their children—a heavy service, which they, their husbands, fathers, sons, had not the means of hiring nor teams to accomplish. The latter had other work far more laborious to perform for the house. The sills, posts, beams, rafters, &c., which they cut in the mountains, six to ten miles distant, they drew down by hand. The posts and beams 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 three hours through the fern and underbrush loaded with the cold dew, made fast to their timber, and, addressing themselves to their sober toil for the rest 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 and willingness of the people in church building at Waiakea, Hilo: "I have often gone with them to the forest, laid hold of the rope, and dragged timber with them from morning to night. On such occasions we usually, on our arrival at the timber to be drawn, unite in prayer, and then, fastening to the stick, proceed to work. Dragging timber in this way is exceedingly wearisome, especially if there be not, as is often the case, a full complement of hands. But what is wanting in numbers is often supplied in the tact and management of the natives, some of whom are expert in rallying, stimulating, and cheering their comrades, by sallies of wit, irony, and, if the expression is allowable, of good-natured sarcasm. The manner of drawing is quite orderly and systematic. They choose one of their number for a leader. This done, the leader proceeds to use his vocal powers by commanding all others to put theirs to rest. He then arranges his men on each side of the rope, like artillerists at the drag rope. Every man is commanded to grasp the rope firmly with both hands, straighten it, and squat down, inclined a little forward. The leader then passes from rear to front, and from front to rear, reviewing the line to see that every man grasps the rope. All is now still as the grave for a moment, when the commander, or marshal of the day, roars out in a stentorian voice, 'Kauo, draw!' Every one then rises, and away dashes the timber, through thicket and mud, over lava and streamlet, under a burning sun or amidst drenching rain. No conversation is allowed except by the marshal, who seems to feel it 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 of God have been erected; and most of them being of enduring materials, they will stand for many years as monuments of the devotion, self-sacrificing industry, and sincere piety of the Sandwich Island Christians. A people having this spirit, and animated with such a love for Christ and his worship, could not fail in being successful while armed with gospel truth. Before such noble workmen all obstacles will vanish, all barriers will be broken down, all opposition will be overcome. Were the members of the church in Christian lands willing to make such sacrifices and perform such labors, a half century would not roll away ere the voice of the missionary would be heard in every valley and on every hill top of the globe. Were the Christians of one single denomination willing to lay hold upon the "drag rope" of Christian missions, and emulate the conduct of the poor, degraded Sandwich Islanders, in their efforts to build temples of worship, they would see the car of salvation moving on gloriously, and, ere long, would listen to the shout of a redeemed world.

The Christians of these islands seem to resemble the early disciples of our dear Savior. Their simple and unostentatious piety, their firm, manly devotion to truth, and steady resistance to error, their willingness to leave all for Christ, reminds us of the disciples of Antioch and Rome, who perilled life and happiness to prove their devotion to the cross. Perhaps nowhere in our times have converts from heathenism to Christianity displayed more of the primitive spirit, and developed more of the primitive virtues, than the once despised, idolatrous, blinded inhabitants of the Sandwich 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 valuable history, we close this sketch of the Sandwich Islands and of one of the most intelligent and gifted females ever sent to them:—

"A nation has been raised from blank heathenism to a rank among enlightened nations, to the enjoyment of letters and laws, of Christianity and the hope of heavenly glory. Whatever troubles may yet assail them, there is ground to rejoice that the foundation of the spiritual temple of Jehovah has there been firmly laid, and its superstructure commenced, which is to rise in future generations. The builders there and elsewhere have many adversaries; but the benignant Lamb shall overcome them. His servants must be multiplied, and many a heart, constrained by the love of Christ, will be found 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 much for that nation in a generation past,—and who will say they have toiled or expended too much?—those who are on the Lord's side, grateful for what the Lord has wrought there, will be encouraged to attempt and expect the same or 'greater things than these' for other nations, till in every tongue they shall harmoniously hymn the Messiah's praise, and earth's ransomed millions shall swell the strain which these converted islanders have recently learned 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.'"



V.

SARAH L. SMITH, OF SYRIA.



There are some spots on earth more hallowed than others. There are consecrated cities and towns, from which, as we approach them, we seem to hear a voice, saying, "Put off thy shoes; for the spot whereon thou treadest 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 immediate successors, the apostles and martyrs, contended so earnestly for the faith delivered 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 pious traveller will never visit those places without feeling his bosom thrill with tender and intense emotions.

On this account the mission in Syria is one of peculiar interest. Founded almost within sight of Calvary, it is surrounded with many scenes of dear and hallowed interest; and it requires but little effort of the imagination to 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 the mission in this place that the amiable, talented, and beloved subject of this article was connected.

Sarah Lanman Huntington was the daughter of Jabez Huntington, Esq. She was born in Norwich, Connecticut, on the 18th of June, 1802, and in that beautiful town passed through the period of childhood. She was educated with missionary sympathies and feelings. All the circumstances under which she was placed were calculated to invest the holy enterprise with sacred pleasantness. In her father's house she never heard a word of reproach breathed forth against the cause itself or the devoted men and women engaged in it. She traced her descent from the famous John Robinson, of Leyden, whose blood came flowing down through a long missionary line until it coursed in her veins. Her grandfather was a member of the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions; and all her relatives on the side of father and mother were active promoters of the work of God.

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

During the first twelve years of her life there appears to be nothing unusual in her history. She was like other thoughtful and pleasant girls of her age, and spent her time in the amusements and pursuits of youth. At school she was industrious, studious, but not remarkably rapid in her progress; at home she was fondly loved and cherished; but in the minds of her 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. Her mind was drawn to divine things and her heart touched by the finger of God. On the 10th of August, 1820, she realized for the first time the blessedness of full and free forgiveness. The Savior was precious to her soul, and holy duties were pleasant and delightful. She had passed from the deep 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, free from the dreadful weight of guilt and condemnation, pardoned by God and loved by Christ, she deemed no praises too exalted, no trials too severe to endure in return. She immediately recognized the great principle that "we are not our own," and acted upon it; and life became from that hour devoted to 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 our beautiful 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" and entered the kingdom of heaven, did not consist of words alone. They were engraven on her heart and carried out in her life as well as recorded on high. Ceaselessly she sought out ways in which she might do good to the bodies and the souls of her fellow-creatures; and what her hands found to do, she did with her might. In 1827 she formed a plan to benefit the Mohegan Indians, who lived a few miles from Norwich. These Indians were the remnant of a once mighty tribe; and the proud blood of some of their rude chieftains of former times coursed through the veins of these tattered and ragged descendants. From hut to hut she visited among these degraded children of the forest; started a Sabbath school, of which she and another young lady were the sole teachers; provided books for those who could read; and in many ways conferred benefits upon them. Not satisfied with this, she determined to build a church and secure the services of a missionary; and for this purpose wrote to several of her influential friends, to secure their cooeperation and sympathy. For aid in her work of benevolence she also applied to the legislature of Connecticut and to the general government. To a considerable extent she was successful, and obtained the esteem and gratitude of that forlorn and oppressed people.

The manner in which she visited among the people gives us an insight into the character of the woman, and furnishes us with a clew to her future success. She usually rode from Norwich on horseback, and, taking a little girl with her into the saddle, passed from house to house, using the child as guide, interpreter, and adviser. When she met in the road a few ragged natives or a knot of men and women she would stop her horse and converse a while with them, and slip a tract into the hand of each, and with a smile pass on. In this way she gained the confidence and love of the poor people who lived in ignorance and degradation within sight of the towers and temples of New England towns and cities.

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

The idea of laboring in the west was abandoned in 1833, during which year she 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. most earnestly desired. Her heart was set on doing good; and no spot on earth could have been selected more in accordance with her tastes and feelings. The long-cherished purpose could now be accomplished; and, after due consultation with her friends, she was married on the 21st of July, in the midst of her associates, at Norwich.

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

The scene on board the vessel was peculiarly solemn. After the missionaries had arrived and the people had assembled on the deck and on the wharf, all united 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 the gracious care of Him who sitteth on high; after which the brig was loosened from her moorings and floated down the harbor, while the little cluster of missionaries 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 vessel which contained the loved ones had faded from sight, and with its precious freight 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 the 28th of January, 1834. The sketch of their voyage, given by Mrs. Smith herself and found in her published memoir, is of intense interest. The objects of interest were so numerous, the mind of the voyager so well prepared to appreciate them, that a journey on land could scarcely have been more delightful. The heaving Atlantic; the calm, bright Mediterranean; the Azore Islands; the long coast of Africa; the Straits of Gibraltar; the stay at Malta; the visits to convents, temples, and other places of resort; the city of Alexandria; the Mahometan Sabbath; the grave of Parsons; the passage to Beyroot, and the safe arrival,—were all calculated to enlist the feelings of such a woman, with such a mind, as Mrs. Smith, She arrived at her new residence at Beyroot on the 28th of January, 1834. The town lies at the foot of the "goodly mountain," Lebanon, and, to the approaching traveller, presents a scene of beauty seldom equalled. Descending gently from the south, the whole town seems like one vast garden, with houses half covered by the thick foliage, and cottages of Oriental style, of brown or yellow appearance, peeping through the overhanging trees, or standing in the 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. On its sides are seen the cottage, and here and there a cluster of human habitations, forming little villages, which delight the eye and give beauty to the prospect. Every thing, to a native of Europe or America, is unique and strange, and has an air of richness and productiveness which surprises while it charms. The birds, the beasts, the insects are, to a lover of natural beauty, sources of study and profit; and the refined mind could scarcely find a more delightful spot as a field of missionary exertion.

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

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

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

The manners, customs, and dresses of the people at Beyroot served to remind the Christian of the times of Christ, and led back the imagination through the lapse of eighteen hundred years to the thrilling events which transpired throughout the Holy Land.

So few are the improvements made in art and agriculture that one can easily fancy himself in the middle of the first century, gazing upon the people who from apostolic lips listened to the words of life and salvation; and under this almost irresistible impression the solemnity of Gethsemane and Calvary gathers over the soul, and throws a divine enchantment over the life and labors of the men of God. So our sister felt, as the Oriental costumes passed before her, as she looked out from her window upon the sides of the snow-covered Lebanon.

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

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

Mrs. Smith spent most of the time in her school, which was commenced soon after her arrival, and for a while was "the only schoolmistress in all Syria." The school house, which was erected upon a plan of her own, was filled by a large number of children of Egyptian, Arabian, and Turkish parents, who, under the care of their faithful teacher, made considerable progress. To instruct the little, ignorant children, explain to them the mysteries of science, and lead them upward to the God who made them, was a task for which she was well adapted. Being an ardent lover of the beautiful and grand in nature, she made the green fields, the blooming vineyards, the high, towering mountain all subservient to the purposes of instruction. Her residence among the Mohegans prepared her for her duties in Syria, and gave her the advantage of an experience which she could have acquired nowhere else. In the Sabbath school she was also most happily employed in instructing the fifteen or twenty children who attended in the path of holiness. Under her labors the school gradually and constantly increased, and a visible change for good was observed among the pupils. Her kindness and affection won the hearts even of the Moslem parents, who, in repeated instances, disobeyed the direction of their priests, and kept their children under her care after the school had been condemned.

One of the most pleasant circumstances connected with the missionary life of Mrs. Smith was her visit to the Holy Land in 1835. From early childhood she had regarded with a feeling of veneration the city of Jerusalem. That was the city in which many of the Savior's miracles were done; there he had healed the sick, cast out devils, raised the dead, and performed many other wonderful works; there was the temple; there the scene of trial, and the streets along which the cross was borne; there, near at hand, was the Garden of Gethsemane, the Mount of Olives, and on the other side of the 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 the wide 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 was crossed. Her feet traversed the mountains of Galilee, and stood upon the summit of Carmel, Gerizim, Tabor, Hermon, Lebanon, Olivet, and Calvary. She visited the spots where tradition tells us the Savior perished and where his sufferings were endured; and doubtless her imagination brought back the scenes of the past, and she might have heard the low, silvery tones of mercy and grace as they flowed from the lips of "Him who spake as never man spake."

After visiting the prominent places of the Holy Land, our missionary returned again to her station at Beyroot, where she labored with untiring diligence until June, 1836, when, her health failing, she set sail with her husband for Smyrna, with the delusive hope of regaining it. At this point her sufferings commenced. The vessel in which they sailed was old and uncomfortable; the crew and some of the passengers were any thing but agreeable; and horrid profanity was heard instead of prayer and praise. The fifth night after leaving Beyroot the vessel was wrecked on the north side of the Island of Cyprus, and the voyagers escaped with their lives. After many hardships and much danger they landed on a sandy shore in an almost destitute condition, and, after continuing on the island some days, obtained passage towards the place of their destination. The vessel on board which they sailed was a Turkish lumberman, and in no way adapted to the conveyance of passengers. But, submitting to stern necessity, they made the best improvement of the circumstances under which they were placed. Of the voyage Mr. Smith says, "The wind was high, and, being contrary to the current, raised a cross and troublous sea. The vessel was terribly tossed, and, being slightly put together, threatened to founder at almost every plunge. Mrs. Smith, besides rolling to and fro for want of something to support her against the motion, was writhing under violent seasickness, which, instead of allaying, served only to increase her cough. She had some fears that she should not survive the night; and for a time I did not know what would be the end of her sufferings."

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

In her sickness she gave the most cheering illustrations of the power of the Christian faith to subdue fear and disarm death. Her mind was lifted up above the sufferings of her lot, and she held constant intercourse with the Savior of her soul. To a great extent she was free from pain, and enabled to converse with her husband upon the prospect before her. She waited for death 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 her physician and friends would whisper words of hope, she would plainly tell them that her work was done, her mission fulfilled, and the sand of her glass almost run out. It gave her more pleasure to look forward to a meeting with the loved men and women who had departed than to contemplate an 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, the hymn,—

"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 all illuminated with smiles, which, after she ceased to speak, played upon her features, and by their silent eloquence whispered to every beholder, "Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil."

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

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

"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 of death was told; and sadness filled the pious heart as the thought that another servant of God, another heroine of the church, had fallen at her post, a martyr in the cause of truth. The American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions felt deeply the loss which had been sustained, and mourned 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 until death shall call us to join the blessed throng of the ransomed whose names are 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."



VI.

ELEANOR MACOMBER, OF BURMAH.



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

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

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

From Lake Pleasant she removed to Albany, where her heart was brought into subjection to the divine will and her mind impressed with the great truths of revelation. She became a convert to the religion of the cross. She became a convert to tears, to prayers, to self-denying labors, to a life of sacrifice and devotion. Her piety was from henceforth of the highest character, and all her daily deportment gave evidence of her love to the Savior.

In 1830 she was sent out by the Missionary Board, of the Baptist denomination, as a teacher among the Ojibwas, at Sault de Ste. Marie, in Michigan. This was her first missionary work, and she continued engaged in it nearly four years, when, in the mysterious providence of God, her health failed, and she was obliged to return to her friends. But the great Head of the church, in removing her from one field of labor, was only preparing her for another. In 1836 she became connected with the Karen mission, and a more extended field of usefulness was thrown open before her. She sailed from this country in the ship Louvre, and arrived in Maulmain in the autumn of the same year.

After her arrival she was stationed at Dong-Yahn, about thirty-five miles from Maulmain. Here she lived and labored almost alone, doing the great work which was assigned her. In the midst of discouragements she fainted not, but performed labors and endured afflictions almost incredible. When she arrived at the scene of her future labors her heart was affected at what she saw. Vice and sin reigned triumphant. The most odious, disgusting, and blasphemous crimes were committed. On every hand intemperance and sensuality were observable. She immediately commenced in their midst the worship of God. On the Sabbath the people were drawn together to hear about the blessed Jesus; and the story of the cross was told with all the sweetness of woman's piety. During the week her house was thrown open for morning and evening prayers. A school was soon gathered under her persevering labors: ten or twelve pupils gathered into it.

Mr. Osgood, who accompanied Miss Macomber from Maulmain to her field of labor, and whose duty required him to leave her there, an unprotected stranger, in the midst of a brutal, drunken community of heathen barbarians, writes as follows of her place of toil and her feelings on her arrival:—

"We ascended the Salwen River about twenty-five miles, and slept in our boats the first night. On the morning of the next day, December 20, we procured a guide and proceeded overland, following the line of the Zuagaben Mountains, to the house of one of the chiefs, about ten miles. The chief and most of the inhabitants were absent, attending the burning of a Burman priest. I immediately despatched a messenger for him, and in the mean time took up lodgings in his house, to wait his return. Two or three men and several females and children spent the greater part of the afternoon and evening with us, hearing sister M. read from the books which have already been written in their language. We, however, soon found that we had arrived in a most unpropitious time; for almost every man in the vicinity was in a state of beastly intoxication.

"On the morning of the 21st, as the chief did not arrive, we concluded to return 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 conference with him and several other principal men relative to the objects of the mission. Having proceeded as far as we intended, and waited some time in vain for his arrival, I concluded to go in person and endeavor to prevail upon him to return, as my business would not allow of protracted absence from home. On arriving at the place of the feast we found a large concourse of people, consisting of Burmans, Peguans, Karens, and Toung-thoos, who were assembled upon an extensive plain to pay the last tribute of respect to 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 to Burman custom, to which were attached ropes, made of grass, three or four hundred 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 our pursuit, but so completely drunk that all attempts to induce them to return with us were entirely fruitless. We immediately returned to the house of the chief where we had lodged the previous night. In the evening the chief returned, but so intoxicated as to be entirely unfit for business.

"We rose early on the morning of the 22d to take advantage of the effect of the night's rest upon our host, and obtained the privilege of a few minutes' conversation. He gave us permission to build in any place we saw fit 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 Macomber had borne the trials of the journey and the prospect of being left alone without the least appearance of shrinking; but when the moment of separation came, the thought of being left, without a friend in the midst of a drunken people, and even in the house of a man completely besotted with ardent spirits, and at a distance of thirty miles or more from any civilized society, with scarcely a sufficient knowledge of the language to make known her wants, was too much for the delicate feelings of a female to endure; and she could only give vent to the emotions of her heart by a flood of tears. She soon, however, recovered her self-possession, and resolved to cast herself upon the merciful protection of her heavenly Father, 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 church of natives, converted through her instrumentality, was formed and placed under the care of Rev. Mr. Stephens. The people changed beneath the influence of divine grace. Intemperance, sensuality, and other vices gradually disappeared; and morality, solemnity, virtue, and religion took their places. The Sabbath day was respected; and in the jungle and thicket the 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 instrumentality numbered more than twenty persons, who continued faithful in the duties and practices of the disciples. Her feelings towards the little band of Christians gathered by her in the very wilderness of sin are represented as having been very strong and earnest. Her language was, when speaking of the church,—

"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, and reason held even balance. Her zeal for the truth was not a blind, headlong enthusiasm, which sparkles, and glitters, and comes to an end, but a zeal founded on the wants and woes of a perishing world. She measured the depths of heathen degradation and estimated the worth of souls, and went to work calmly, 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 so fondly cherished. She was able to defend it—to develop its glories—to show its superiority to any and all the forms of heathenism. The kindness of her own heart led her not only to appreciate the superior excellence of the gospel, but also to feel most deeply for the degraded Karens. Towering far above them in the majesty of intellect and the grandeur of thought, she sought to inspire them with feelings kindred to her own. Her high ambition was, to lift the race from its fallen position, save the people from their prevalent vices, enlighten the minds of the young, and improve and regenerate the hearts of all.

She thought it not inconsistent with her true dignity, as a woman possessing a high order of intellect, to bring her mind into contact with the most degraded of the human family, if by so doing she could be the means of saving some and improving others. Hence she studied to do good. The energies of her mind were placed under contribution to furnish arguments by which the heathen mind might be convinced and the heathen heart subdued. She met the strongest objections to the new faith; she answered the questions of the cavilling priest; she reasoned with the common people from the law and the gospel, until enough were converted to form a church of our Lord Jesus.

She was a laborious missionary. All our missionaries are laborers. The work itself compels toil; and it cannot be avoided. But few go into it with an idea of ease and personal aggrandizement; and that few are disappointed. The great enterprise is in itself a hardship; and however cheerfully it may be borne for Jesus and a dying world, it cannot be carried on without immense labor and sacrifice on the part of the missionaries.

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

Indeed, the spectacle of a weak, friendless, lone woman removing from Maulmain to Dong-Yahn, and there, with no husband, no father, no brother, establishing public worship, opening her house for prayer and praise, and gathering schools in the midst of wild and unlettered natives, is one full of moral grandeur. The idea of performing such a work alone, the idea of a defenceless woman going into a besotted nation, among a drunken, sensual people, and lifting them up to the privileges of a refined faith, a pure religion, is an idea worthy of an angel. This idea entered the mind of our subject, 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 went out to the surrounding tribes, and, for miles around, preached salvation to the dying. In these excursions she was generally attended by one or two converts, who formed her escort and guard, and performed that part of the labor which could not be brought within the province of woman. In this heroic and romantic manner she travelled from place to place, fording rivers, crossing deep ravines, climbing high hills and mountains, entering the dwellings of the poor, sitting beside the bed of the dying, rebuking the sinful, and every where preaching the doctrines of salvation.

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

She was a pious missionary. Doubtless much of the success which crowned the efforts of Miss Macomber must be attributed, not to the brilliancy of her intellect, not to the vigor of her mind, not to the vast labor performed, but to the piety of her heart. It was this which induced her to go out; she had no other motive in leaving home and all the joys of kindred and native land. It was this that induced her to plant the cross where the name of Jesus had not been preached; to go alone, a friendless woman, in the midst of savages; to brave sickness, disease, and death itself, in order to utter notes of salvation which should fall on dying ears like strains from heaven. It was this which sent her, like an angel of mercy, to the homes of the weary, to the abodes of sickness, to the hovels of want, to dens of crime, to whisper rebuke in one place and consolation in another.