the ship. Her life ebbed away so rapidly, that he
feared he must consign her to an ocean grave. But a kind Providence
ordered it, that her death did not occur till the ship anchored at St.
Helena. Her end was as peaceful as her life had been consistent and
exemplary.

"No shade of doubt or fear, or anxiety crossed her mind." So writes her
husband: "She had a prevailing preference to depart and be with Christ.
I am longing to depart! she would say; and then the thought of her dear
native land, to which she was approaching after an absence of twenty
years, and a longing desire to see her son George, her parents, and the
friends of her youth, would draw down her ascending soul, and constrain
her to say, 'I am in a strait betwixt two; the will of the Lord be
done.'

"In regard to her children she ever manifested the most surprising
composure and resignation, so much so that I was once constrained to
say, you seem to have forgotten the dear little ones we have left
behind. 'Can a mother forget'--she replied, and was unable to proceed.
During her last days she spent much time in praying for the early
conversion of her children.

"On the evening of the 31st of August, ... I sat alone by the side of
her bed, endeavoring to administer relief to the distressed body, and
consolation to the departing soul. At two o'clock in the morning,
wishing to obtain one more token of recognition, I roused her attention
and said, 'Do you still love the Saviour?' 'O yes,' she replied, 'I ever
love the Lord Jesus Christ.' I said again, 'Do you still love me?' She
replied in the affirmative, by a peculiar expression of her own. 'Then
give me one more kiss;' and we exchanged that token of love for the last
time. Another hour passed,--and she ceased to breathe."

"So fades the summer cloud away;
So sinks the gale when storms are o'er;
So gently shuts the eye of day;
So dies the wave along the shore."

Arrangements were made to carry the body on shore. The Rev. Mr. Bertram
from the Island came on board, and was led into the state-room where lay
all that was mortal of Mrs. Judson. "Pleasant," he says, "she was even
in death. A sweet smile of love beamed on her countenance, as if
heavenly grace had stamped it there. The bereaved husband and three
weeping children fastened their eyes upon the loved remains, as if they
could have looked forever."

The coffin was borne to the shore; the boats forming a kind of
procession, thei