r. Judson to Mrs. Hasseltine we learn, that when he
parted from his wife, she was in good health and comfortably situated,
with happy prospects of a new field of missionary labor, and the
expectation of seeing her husband again in three or four months at
farthest. His last letter from her was dated the 14th of September. She
says, "I have this day moved into the new house, and for the first time
since we were broken up at Ava, feel myself at home. The house is large
and convenient, and if you were here I should feel quite happy.... Poor
little Maria is still feeble.... When I ask her where Papa is, she
always starts up and points toward the sea. The servants behave very
well, and I have no trouble about anything except you and Maria. Pray
take care of yourself.... May God preserve and bless you, and restore
you again to your new and old home is the prayer of your affectionate
Ann." Another letter from a friend confirmed the statement with regard
to his wife's health, though it spoke unfavorably of that of the child.
"But," continues Mr. Judson, "my next communication was a letter with a
black seal, handed me by a person, saying he was sorry to inform me of
the death of the child. I know not whether this was a mistake on his
part, or kindly intended to prepare my mind for the real intelligence. I
went to my room, and opened the letter with a feeling of gratitude and
joy, that at any rate the mother was spared. It began thus: 'My dear
Sir,--To one who has suffered so much and with such exemplary fortitude,
there needs but little preface to tell a tale of distress. It were cruel
indeed to torture you with doubt and suspense. To sum up the unhappy
tidings in a few words--_Mrs. Judson is no more_.' At intervals,"
continues Mr. Judson, "I got through the dreadful letter and proceed to
give you the substance, as indelibly engraven on my heart." After
adding that her disease was a violent fever, which baffled the skill of
the physicians and after eighteen days carried her to the grave, he
continues: "You perceive I have no account whatever of the state of her
mind in view of death and eternity, or of her wishes concerning her
darling babe, whom she loved most intensely. I will not trouble you, my
dear mother, with an account of my own private feelings--the bitter,
heart-rending anguish, which for some days would not admit of
mitigation, and the comfort which the Gospel subsequently afforded, the
Gospel of Jesus Christ which bring