d the dispensary. He gave medicine which was certainly very strong,
and we put mustard plasters on her legs. By the evening she was sensible
enough to take some food, but for a week there was serious illness, and
it was a long time before I could ask my poor friend why she had done
this thing. She had left me a letter to read in the event of her death,
but of course I never read it. We were very much together, but I had not
thought her unhappy; indeed the only reason she ever gave me for so
hating her life was, that she could not learn Malay, and did not think
she should be any use as a missionary. This despondency was known to me,
but I had no idea it cut so deep. Miss J---- had a great deal of quiet
fun--she often amused us by her clever and somewhat caustic remarks. But
Sarawak was too monotonous a life for her. When, some weeks afterwards,
she had quite regained the balance of her mind, she went to Singapore,
and became a very useful member of society for many years before she
died. I never felt that I could judge her, for I had so much more to
occupy my mind and interest my heart than my companion. There was baby
in the first place, and the responsibilities of the school and mission
naturally fell to my share. No doubt it requires an even temperament to
live contentedly without society, and with only such excitement as daily
duties and the beauties of nature afford. Yet these are full of infinite
happiness, and we were not without friends, although we had no company:
the little party at Government House, as it was then called, were very
agreeable and uniformly kind. It is, however, a common mistake to
imagine that the life of a missionary is an exciting one. On the
contrary, its trial lies in its monotony. The uneventful day, mapped out
into hours of teaching and study, sleep, exercise, and religious duties;
the constant society of natives whose minds are like those of children,
and who do not sympathize with your English ideas; the sameness of the
climate, which even precludes discourse about the weather,--all this,
added to the distance from relations and friends at home, combined with
the enervating effects of a hot climate, causes heaviness of spirits and
despondency to single men and women. Married people have not the same
excuse; for besides duty and nature, they have "one friend who loves
them best," and that ought to be enough for the most exacting
temperament. I say nothing about the comforts of religion--the