“Maulmain,August23, 1836.“I send you a little idol, that you may not forget what sort of gods they worship in this country, and your mother is sending you another. But, what is better, I send you a little book, called the ‘Only Son,’ which I took so much pleasure in reading that I want to have you read it through two or three times. I am afraid you will forget how much your mother loves you. This book will help you to remember. I am not much afraid that you will ever become like poorJonah, whose history you will find in the book. But when any companions shall attempt to persuade you to join them in doing some bad thing, remember poor Jonah, and remember his poor mother, and remember how dreadfully your own mother would suffer, and how she would go down to the grave in sorrow, if you should become a bad boy. You can not tell how much she loves you. She talks about you every day; and we never pray together without praying for you. And though it can not be that I should love you as much as your mother does, yet I love you very much, my dear George. And I am always sorry that I was so closely engaged in study, that I was able to spend but very little time with you, after we came up from Tavoy. When I think of that last pleasant, sad afternoon I carried you down to Amherst, and left you on board, theCashmere, I love you very much, and want to see you again. Perhaps we shall live to see you come out a minister of the Gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ. We sometimes pray that, if it be the will of God, it may be so.“Your little sister Abigail is a sweet, fat baby. You would love her very much if you were here. Pray for her, that she may live, and may become a child of God.”
“Maulmain,August23, 1836.
“I send you a little idol, that you may not forget what sort of gods they worship in this country, and your mother is sending you another. But, what is better, I send you a little book, called the ‘Only Son,’ which I took so much pleasure in reading that I want to have you read it through two or three times. I am afraid you will forget how much your mother loves you. This book will help you to remember. I am not much afraid that you will ever become like poorJonah, whose history you will find in the book. But when any companions shall attempt to persuade you to join them in doing some bad thing, remember poor Jonah, and remember his poor mother, and remember how dreadfully your own mother would suffer, and how she would go down to the grave in sorrow, if you should become a bad boy. You can not tell how much she loves you. She talks about you every day; and we never pray together without praying for you. And though it can not be that I should love you as much as your mother does, yet I love you very much, my dear George. And I am always sorry that I was so closely engaged in study, that I was able to spend but very little time with you, after we came up from Tavoy. When I think of that last pleasant, sad afternoon I carried you down to Amherst, and left you on board, theCashmere, I love you very much, and want to see you again. Perhaps we shall live to see you come out a minister of the Gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ. We sometimes pray that, if it be the will of God, it may be so.
“Your little sister Abigail is a sweet, fat baby. You would love her very much if you were here. Pray for her, that she may live, and may become a child of God.”
Prayer for Little George.
Prayer for Little George.
Prayer for Little George.
“Remember, Lord, my mother dear,Who lives in distant heathen land;By day and night wilt Thou be near,To guard her with Thy powerful hand.“And since another babe has come,To fill the place which once was mine,In mother’s arms to find a home,And soft on mother’s breast recline,“O, listen to me from Thy throne,And let a brother’s prayer prevail,To draw the choicest blessings downOn little sister Abigail.”
“Remember, Lord, my mother dear,Who lives in distant heathen land;By day and night wilt Thou be near,To guard her with Thy powerful hand.“And since another babe has come,To fill the place which once was mine,In mother’s arms to find a home,And soft on mother’s breast recline,“O, listen to me from Thy throne,And let a brother’s prayer prevail,To draw the choicest blessings downOn little sister Abigail.”
“Remember, Lord, my mother dear,Who lives in distant heathen land;By day and night wilt Thou be near,To guard her with Thy powerful hand.
“Remember, Lord, my mother dear,
Who lives in distant heathen land;
By day and night wilt Thou be near,
To guard her with Thy powerful hand.
“And since another babe has come,To fill the place which once was mine,In mother’s arms to find a home,And soft on mother’s breast recline,
“And since another babe has come,
To fill the place which once was mine,
In mother’s arms to find a home,
And soft on mother’s breast recline,
“O, listen to me from Thy throne,And let a brother’s prayer prevail,To draw the choicest blessings downOn little sister Abigail.”
“O, listen to me from Thy throne,
And let a brother’s prayer prevail,
To draw the choicest blessings down
On little sister Abigail.”
When his son, Adoniram Brown Judson,[54]born April 7, 1837, was almost a year old, Mr. Judson wrote to his ownmother and sister a letter in which, with playful tenderness, he alludes to both his children:
“Maulmain,March16, 1838.“I remember you in my prayers every day, and hope that you do not forget me, my wife, and dear little Abby and Adoniram. Yours of October 15, 1837, I received on the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Stevens in theRosabella, the 19th of last month. They gave me an account of their visit to Plymouth, and their interview with you both, and how you looked and what you said, and he remembered the exhortation to ‘preach the three R’s.’ He remarked, that my mother was the very picture of the venerable, andsheobserved that everything about the house was kept in remarkably nice order. And they both thought that, from your appearance and remarks, you were in the enjoyment of much religious feeling. How I wish I could see you once more! I send you a copy of the Burman New Testament, which may be a gratifying curiosity, if nothing more.“We have just carried Adoniram through the small-pox by inoculation. He had it very lightly, and is now quite recovered. He is one of the prettiest, brightest children you ever saw. His mother says he resembles his uncle Elnathan. Abby is growing fast. She runs about, and talks Burman quite fluently, but no English. I am not troubled about her not getting English at present, for we shall have to send her home in a few years, and then she will get it of course. She attends family and public worship with us, and has learned to sit still and behave herself. But Fen, or Pwen, as the natives call him, when he is brought into the chapel, and sees me in my place, has the impudence to roar out Bah (as the Burmans call father), with such a stentorian voice, that his nurse is obliged to carry him out again.“Many thanks, dear sister, for your last present of fifty dollars, which I have received. I am obliged to look after the rupees a little more carefully now than when I had no little ones to provide for.“I suppose you take theMagazine; so I do not introduce missionary affairs into my private letters.”
“Maulmain,March16, 1838.
“I remember you in my prayers every day, and hope that you do not forget me, my wife, and dear little Abby and Adoniram. Yours of October 15, 1837, I received on the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Stevens in theRosabella, the 19th of last month. They gave me an account of their visit to Plymouth, and their interview with you both, and how you looked and what you said, and he remembered the exhortation to ‘preach the three R’s.’ He remarked, that my mother was the very picture of the venerable, andsheobserved that everything about the house was kept in remarkably nice order. And they both thought that, from your appearance and remarks, you were in the enjoyment of much religious feeling. How I wish I could see you once more! I send you a copy of the Burman New Testament, which may be a gratifying curiosity, if nothing more.
“We have just carried Adoniram through the small-pox by inoculation. He had it very lightly, and is now quite recovered. He is one of the prettiest, brightest children you ever saw. His mother says he resembles his uncle Elnathan. Abby is growing fast. She runs about, and talks Burman quite fluently, but no English. I am not troubled about her not getting English at present, for we shall have to send her home in a few years, and then she will get it of course. She attends family and public worship with us, and has learned to sit still and behave herself. But Fen, or Pwen, as the natives call him, when he is brought into the chapel, and sees me in my place, has the impudence to roar out Bah (as the Burmans call father), with such a stentorian voice, that his nurse is obliged to carry him out again.
“Many thanks, dear sister, for your last present of fifty dollars, which I have received. I am obliged to look after the rupees a little more carefully now than when I had no little ones to provide for.
“I suppose you take theMagazine; so I do not introduce missionary affairs into my private letters.”
But Mr. Judson’s iron purposes were not melted in the ease and quiet of home life. He did not cease his efforts to save his poor Burmans. A few weeks after the birth of his son, he wrote:
“My days are commonly spent in the following manner: the morning in reading Burman; the forenoon in a publiczayatwith some assistant, preaching to those who call; the afternoon in preparing or revising something for the press, correcting proof-sheets, etc.; the evening in conducting worship in the native chapel, and conversing with the assistants or other native Christians or inquirers.”
“My days are commonly spent in the following manner: the morning in reading Burman; the forenoon in a publiczayatwith some assistant, preaching to those who call; the afternoon in preparing or revising something for the press, correcting proof-sheets, etc.; the evening in conducting worship in the native chapel, and conversing with the assistants or other native Christians or inquirers.”
With what genuine satisfaction must such a worker have looked back upon his work of a quarter of a century in Burmah!
“July20, 1838.“I have lately,” he writes, “had the happiness of baptizing the first Toung-thoo that ever became a Christian. I hope he will be the first-fruits of a plentiful harvest. God has given me the privilege and happiness of witnessing and contributing a little, I trust, to the conversion of the first Burmese convert, the first Peguan, the first Karen, and the first Toung-thoo. Three of them I baptized. The Karen was approved for baptism; but just then, brother Boardman removing to Tavoy, I sent the Karen with him, and he was baptized there.“There are now above a thousand converts from heathenism, formed into various churches throughout the country. And I trust that the good work will go on, until every vestige of idolatry shall be effaced, and millennial glory shall bless the whole land. The thirteenth day of this month finished a quarter of a century that I have spent in Burmah; and on the eighth of next month, if I live, I shall complete the fiftieth year of my life. And I see that mother, if living, will enter on her eightieth year next December. May we all meet in heaven.”
“July20, 1838.
“I have lately,” he writes, “had the happiness of baptizing the first Toung-thoo that ever became a Christian. I hope he will be the first-fruits of a plentiful harvest. God has given me the privilege and happiness of witnessing and contributing a little, I trust, to the conversion of the first Burmese convert, the first Peguan, the first Karen, and the first Toung-thoo. Three of them I baptized. The Karen was approved for baptism; but just then, brother Boardman removing to Tavoy, I sent the Karen with him, and he was baptized there.
“There are now above a thousand converts from heathenism, formed into various churches throughout the country. And I trust that the good work will go on, until every vestige of idolatry shall be effaced, and millennial glory shall bless the whole land. The thirteenth day of this month finished a quarter of a century that I have spent in Burmah; and on the eighth of next month, if I live, I shall complete the fiftieth year of my life. And I see that mother, if living, will enter on her eightieth year next December. May we all meet in heaven.”
Upon the completion of the fiftieth year of his life, andof his twenty-fifth year in Burmah, it is not strange that even his wiry physique should begin to give way beneath the strain. Disease fastened first upon his lungs, entailing loss of voice and intense pain. Allusions in his letters at this time indicate his declining health:
“On Passage from Maulmain to Calcutta,March3, 1839.“I had been subject to a cough several months, and some kind of inflammation of the throat and lungs, which, for a time, almost deprived me of the use of my voice; and lest the complaint should become confirmed consumption, I was advised to try a voyage to sea....March 11.For two days I have had a return of soreness, accompanied with some cough. I fear that the atmosphere of this place, loaded with dust and smoke, will bring on a relapse.“My last informed you that I was on a passage to Calcutta for my health, by the direction of a physician and the recommendation of the brethren at the station. I derived great benefit from the voyage; and my health continued generally to improve during my stay in Calcutta of three weeks, and on the return voyage, until the Sunday preceding my arrival here, when I made trial of my voice, by attempting to conduct Burmese worship in my cabin, with the only native convert on board. And though the effort was very small, I was dismayed to find, in the course of the afternoon, the old soreness of lungs and tendency to cough come on; and for three days I was rather worse than I had been for six weeks. Being at sea, however, I partially recovered from the relapse before I reached home, but am not so well as at my last date. It is a great mercy that I am able to use my voice in common conversation without much difficulty; but when I shall be able to preach again I know not. The approaching rainy season will probably decide whether my complaint is to return with violence, or whether I am to have a further lease of life. I am rather desirous of living, for the sake of the work and of my family; but He who appoints all our times, and the bounds of our habitation, does all things well; and we ought not to desire to pass the appointed limits.... My throat complaint, which seemed tobe nearly removed by a voyage to Calcutta, has returned with fresh violence since the commencement of the rains, three days ago. Some advise me to take another voyage, as before; but I have no heart to do so, thinking that the benefit will be but temporary. Others suggest a voyage home to America, and a residence there for a year or two; but to this course I have strong objections. There are so many missionaries going home for their health, or for some other cause, that I should be very unwilling to do so, unless my brethren and the Board thought it a case of absolute necessity. I should be of no use to the cause at home, not being able to use my voice. And lastly, I am in my fifty-first year. I have lived long enough. I have lived to see accomplished the particular objects on which I set my heart when I commenced a missionary life. And why should I wish to live longer? I am unable to preach; and since the last relapse, the irritation of my throat is so very troublesome that I can not converse but with difficulty, or even sit at the table, as I have done to-day, and prepare copy for the press. My complaint, it is said, is very much like that of which the late Mrs. Osgood died—not common pulmonary consumption, but something in the throat, which puzzled even her attending physicians, one of whom maintained, till near her death, that she was not in a consumption, and would recover.“My present expectation is, to use medicinal palliatives, and endeavor to keep along for a few months, until I see the present edition of the Bible completed, and then be ready to rest from my labors. But the very thought brings joy to my soul. For, though I am a poor, poor sinner, and know that I have never done a single action which can claim the least merit or praise, glory is before me, interminable glory, through the blood of the Lamb, the Lamb for sinners slain. But I shrink back again, when I think of my dear wife and darling children, who have wound round my once widowed, bereaved heart, and would fain draw me down from heaven and glory. And then I think, also, of the world of work before me. But the sufficient answer to all is,The Lord will provide.”
“On Passage from Maulmain to Calcutta,March3, 1839.
“I had been subject to a cough several months, and some kind of inflammation of the throat and lungs, which, for a time, almost deprived me of the use of my voice; and lest the complaint should become confirmed consumption, I was advised to try a voyage to sea....March 11.For two days I have had a return of soreness, accompanied with some cough. I fear that the atmosphere of this place, loaded with dust and smoke, will bring on a relapse.
“My last informed you that I was on a passage to Calcutta for my health, by the direction of a physician and the recommendation of the brethren at the station. I derived great benefit from the voyage; and my health continued generally to improve during my stay in Calcutta of three weeks, and on the return voyage, until the Sunday preceding my arrival here, when I made trial of my voice, by attempting to conduct Burmese worship in my cabin, with the only native convert on board. And though the effort was very small, I was dismayed to find, in the course of the afternoon, the old soreness of lungs and tendency to cough come on; and for three days I was rather worse than I had been for six weeks. Being at sea, however, I partially recovered from the relapse before I reached home, but am not so well as at my last date. It is a great mercy that I am able to use my voice in common conversation without much difficulty; but when I shall be able to preach again I know not. The approaching rainy season will probably decide whether my complaint is to return with violence, or whether I am to have a further lease of life. I am rather desirous of living, for the sake of the work and of my family; but He who appoints all our times, and the bounds of our habitation, does all things well; and we ought not to desire to pass the appointed limits.... My throat complaint, which seemed tobe nearly removed by a voyage to Calcutta, has returned with fresh violence since the commencement of the rains, three days ago. Some advise me to take another voyage, as before; but I have no heart to do so, thinking that the benefit will be but temporary. Others suggest a voyage home to America, and a residence there for a year or two; but to this course I have strong objections. There are so many missionaries going home for their health, or for some other cause, that I should be very unwilling to do so, unless my brethren and the Board thought it a case of absolute necessity. I should be of no use to the cause at home, not being able to use my voice. And lastly, I am in my fifty-first year. I have lived long enough. I have lived to see accomplished the particular objects on which I set my heart when I commenced a missionary life. And why should I wish to live longer? I am unable to preach; and since the last relapse, the irritation of my throat is so very troublesome that I can not converse but with difficulty, or even sit at the table, as I have done to-day, and prepare copy for the press. My complaint, it is said, is very much like that of which the late Mrs. Osgood died—not common pulmonary consumption, but something in the throat, which puzzled even her attending physicians, one of whom maintained, till near her death, that she was not in a consumption, and would recover.
“My present expectation is, to use medicinal palliatives, and endeavor to keep along for a few months, until I see the present edition of the Bible completed, and then be ready to rest from my labors. But the very thought brings joy to my soul. For, though I am a poor, poor sinner, and know that I have never done a single action which can claim the least merit or praise, glory is before me, interminable glory, through the blood of the Lamb, the Lamb for sinners slain. But I shrink back again, when I think of my dear wife and darling children, who have wound round my once widowed, bereaved heart, and would fain draw me down from heaven and glory. And then I think, also, of the world of work before me. But the sufficient answer to all is,The Lord will provide.”
The voyage to which allusion is made in the foregoing extracts was begun February 19, 1839; it was thought that a trip to Calcutta would restore his health. After an absence of nearly two months, during which he had a delightful visit with the English Baptists of Calcutta and Serampore, he returned to Maulmain, his health somewhat improved. The sadness of this separation from the faithful wife and mother, whom he left behind at Maulmain, was intensified by the apprehension that he might die on the voyage. Mrs. Judson writes:
“As soon as you left the house, I ran to your dressing-room, and watched you from the window. But you did not look up—oh, how I wished you would! Then I hastened to the back veranda, and caught one last glimpse of you through the trees; ... and I gave vent to my feelings in a flood of tears.
“Then the children came around me, asking to go to the wharf, and the womenlookedtheir wishes; and though I said ‘no’ to the little ones, I could not deny the others. After they were gone, I took all three of our darlings into your own little room, told them why you had gone away, and asked Abby Ann and Adoniram if they wished me to ask God to take care of papa, while he was gone. They said ‘yes’; and so I put Elnathan down on the floor to play, and, kneeling beside the other two, committed you and ourselves to the care of our heavenly Father.... How sweet is the thought that, when you go into the presence of God, you always pray for me, and for our dear children. We have family worship mornings in the sleeping-room. Abby and Pwen[55]kneel, one on each side of me, and after I have read and prayed I teach them the Lord’s prayer. I make them repeat it distinctly, only two or three words at a time. They both sit at the table with me, Pwen occupying his beloved father’s place. But these things do not beguile my loneliness. Oh, when shall I see you again, here, in your old seat?
“Your little daughter and I have been praying for you this evening. She is now in bed, and I am sitting by my study-table, where I spend all my time after evening worship, except what is devoted to the children. I wish, my love, that you would pray for one object in particular—that I may be assisted in communicating divine truth to the minds of these little immortals.... At times the sweet hope that you will soon return, restored to perfect health, buoys up my spirit; but perhaps you will find it necessary to go farther, a necessity from which I can not but shrink with doubt and dread; or you may come back only to die with me. This last agonizing thought crushes me down in overwhelming sorrow. I hope I do not feel unwilling that our heavenly Father should do as He thinks best with us; but my heart shrinks from the prospect of living in this sinful, dark, friendless world without you. But I feel that I do wrong to anticipate sorrows. God has promised strength only forto-day; and, in infinite mercy, He shuts the future from our view. I know that there is small ground for hope; few ever recover from your disease; but it may be that God will restore you to health, for the sake of His suffering cause.Ido not deserve it; and I have often wondered that I should have been so singularly blessed as to possess that heart, which is far more precious than all the world beside. But the most satisfactory view of our condition is to look away to that blissful world, where separations are unknown. There, my beloved Judson,weshall surely meet each other; and we shall also meet those loved ones who have gone before us to that haven of rest.
“After worship at the chapel, several of the native Christians came in; and we all mingled our tears together. They each in turn committed their absent pastor (father, they called you) to God, and prayed for your restoration to health, and speedy return to us, with a fervor which I felt at the time must prevail.”
VERSES WRITTEN BY MR. JUDSON FOR HIS CHILDREN DURING THIS VOYAGE.
VERSES WRITTEN BY MR. JUDSON FOR HIS CHILDREN DURING THIS VOYAGE.
VERSES WRITTEN BY MR. JUDSON FOR HIS CHILDREN DURING THIS VOYAGE.
Prayer to Jesus.
Prayer to Jesus.
Prayer to Jesus.
“Dear Jesus, hear me when I pray,And take this naughty heart away;Teach me to love Thee, gracious Lord,And learn to read Thy holy word.”
“Dear Jesus, hear me when I pray,And take this naughty heart away;Teach me to love Thee, gracious Lord,And learn to read Thy holy word.”
“Dear Jesus, hear me when I pray,And take this naughty heart away;Teach me to love Thee, gracious Lord,And learn to read Thy holy word.”
“Dear Jesus, hear me when I pray,
And take this naughty heart away;
Teach me to love Thee, gracious Lord,
And learn to read Thy holy word.”
Another.
Another.
Another.
“Come, dearest Saviour, take my heart,And let me ne’er from Thee depart;From every evil set me free,And all the glory be to Thee.”
“Come, dearest Saviour, take my heart,And let me ne’er from Thee depart;From every evil set me free,And all the glory be to Thee.”
“Come, dearest Saviour, take my heart,And let me ne’er from Thee depart;From every evil set me free,And all the glory be to Thee.”
“Come, dearest Saviour, take my heart,
And let me ne’er from Thee depart;
From every evil set me free,
And all the glory be to Thee.”
For Abby Ann.
For Abby Ann.
For Abby Ann.
“Look down on little brother dear,Safe may he sleep while Thou art near,Preserve his life to know Thy love,And dwell at last in heaven above.”
“Look down on little brother dear,Safe may he sleep while Thou art near,Preserve his life to know Thy love,And dwell at last in heaven above.”
“Look down on little brother dear,Safe may he sleep while Thou art near,Preserve his life to know Thy love,And dwell at last in heaven above.”
“Look down on little brother dear,
Safe may he sleep while Thou art near,
Preserve his life to know Thy love,
And dwell at last in heaven above.”
A Morning Prayer.
A Morning Prayer.
A Morning Prayer.
“My waking thoughts I raise to Thee,Who through the night hast guarded me;Keep me this day from every ill,And help me, Lord, to do Thy will.”
“My waking thoughts I raise to Thee,Who through the night hast guarded me;Keep me this day from every ill,And help me, Lord, to do Thy will.”
“My waking thoughts I raise to Thee,Who through the night hast guarded me;Keep me this day from every ill,And help me, Lord, to do Thy will.”
“My waking thoughts I raise to Thee,
Who through the night hast guarded me;
Keep me this day from every ill,
And help me, Lord, to do Thy will.”
Duty to Others.
Duty to Others.
Duty to Others.
“Love others as you love yourself;And as you would that theyShould do to you, do you to them,That is the golden way.”
“Love others as you love yourself;And as you would that theyShould do to you, do you to them,That is the golden way.”
“Love others as you love yourself;And as you would that theyShould do to you, do you to them,That is the golden way.”
“Love others as you love yourself;
And as you would that they
Should do to you, do you to them,
That is the golden way.”
The Dying Child.
The Dying Child.
The Dying Child.
“‘O, grant that Christ and heaven be mine:What can I want beside?Hark! hear ye not that voice divine?“My daughter, Christ and heaven are thine!”And see! the glorious portals shine!’She sweetly sang, and died.”
“‘O, grant that Christ and heaven be mine:What can I want beside?Hark! hear ye not that voice divine?“My daughter, Christ and heaven are thine!”And see! the glorious portals shine!’She sweetly sang, and died.”
“‘O, grant that Christ and heaven be mine:What can I want beside?Hark! hear ye not that voice divine?“My daughter, Christ and heaven are thine!”And see! the glorious portals shine!’She sweetly sang, and died.”
“‘O, grant that Christ and heaven be mine:
What can I want beside?
Hark! hear ye not that voice divine?
“My daughter, Christ and heaven are thine!”
And see! the glorious portals shine!’
She sweetly sang, and died.”
In a letter written to his mother and sister after his return to Maulmain, he betrays the fact that he was still far from perfect convalescence:
“Maulmain,August9, 1839.“On this day I enter my fifty-second year. Fifty-one years have rolled over my head, twenty-six of which have been spent in this heathen land. I believe I write you more frequently than I used to. I am not so much driven in my studies as formerly, and the weakness and irritability of my lungs, though much better, do not yet suffer me to use my voice in public. Add to which that I have a family of young children growing up around me, so that my mind has become more domesticated, and returns with more readiness and frequency to the scenes of my own childhood. Twenty-seven years and a half have passed since we parted in Plymouth and in Boston, during which time my father and brother, and his family, and my first family, have all been swept away by death. You two only remain, and my present family, whom you have never seen. I sometimes feel concerned for my three little children, from the fact that I was advanced in life when they were born, and can not, therefore, expect to live to see them grown up and happily settled before I shall be removed. Even if my present complaint should not terminate in consumption, I can hardly expect to hold out many more years in this climate; so that I have the prospect of leaving them fatherless in the very bloom of youth, when they will especially need a father’s support and care. However, I endeavor daily to commend them to God, and trust that, when I come to die, I shall be enabled to avail myself of the command and promise, ‘Leave thy fatherless children; I will preserve them alive; and let thy widows trust in me’ (Jer. xlix. 11).“Abby Ann has begun to go to school with Julia Osgood to Mrs. Simons, who, with her husband, is here from Rangoon, expecting a war with Burmah, and has set up an English school. Abby attends every forenoon, and just begins to read words of one syllable. Adoniram says, ‘I want go school’; but he stays at home, and deports himself like a little man. Elnathan has been very ill. We thought we should lose him; but he is now better, and begins to be bright and playful.“I do wish you could call in and make us a visit. We would try to make you so comfortable that you would not wish to return to old Plymouth. However, it is of little consequence where we spend the short remnant of life. Heaven is before us. Let us pray much, and live devoted to God, and we shall soon be united in that happy world where there is no dividing sea.“Can’t you give me some account of your house, and furniture, and neighbors, and street, so that I can form a little idea how you are situated? I have tried to glean some particulars from the Stevenses; but transient passers can not be expected to give much satisfactory information. And when you write, leave a good place for the wafer of your letter, as you see I do; otherwise there are sometimes words which I can not make out. I shall be glad when any of the little ones shall be able to conjure out a scrawl to their grandmother and aunt. Pray for them, that they may be early converted to God. Perhaps mother will add a line with her own hand when you write. Dear mother, I wish I could make you some return for all the trouble I once gave you.Yours ever,A. Judson.”
“Maulmain,August9, 1839.
“On this day I enter my fifty-second year. Fifty-one years have rolled over my head, twenty-six of which have been spent in this heathen land. I believe I write you more frequently than I used to. I am not so much driven in my studies as formerly, and the weakness and irritability of my lungs, though much better, do not yet suffer me to use my voice in public. Add to which that I have a family of young children growing up around me, so that my mind has become more domesticated, and returns with more readiness and frequency to the scenes of my own childhood. Twenty-seven years and a half have passed since we parted in Plymouth and in Boston, during which time my father and brother, and his family, and my first family, have all been swept away by death. You two only remain, and my present family, whom you have never seen. I sometimes feel concerned for my three little children, from the fact that I was advanced in life when they were born, and can not, therefore, expect to live to see them grown up and happily settled before I shall be removed. Even if my present complaint should not terminate in consumption, I can hardly expect to hold out many more years in this climate; so that I have the prospect of leaving them fatherless in the very bloom of youth, when they will especially need a father’s support and care. However, I endeavor daily to commend them to God, and trust that, when I come to die, I shall be enabled to avail myself of the command and promise, ‘Leave thy fatherless children; I will preserve them alive; and let thy widows trust in me’ (Jer. xlix. 11).
“Abby Ann has begun to go to school with Julia Osgood to Mrs. Simons, who, with her husband, is here from Rangoon, expecting a war with Burmah, and has set up an English school. Abby attends every forenoon, and just begins to read words of one syllable. Adoniram says, ‘I want go school’; but he stays at home, and deports himself like a little man. Elnathan has been very ill. We thought we should lose him; but he is now better, and begins to be bright and playful.
“I do wish you could call in and make us a visit. We would try to make you so comfortable that you would not wish to return to old Plymouth. However, it is of little consequence where we spend the short remnant of life. Heaven is before us. Let us pray much, and live devoted to God, and we shall soon be united in that happy world where there is no dividing sea.
“Can’t you give me some account of your house, and furniture, and neighbors, and street, so that I can form a little idea how you are situated? I have tried to glean some particulars from the Stevenses; but transient passers can not be expected to give much satisfactory information. And when you write, leave a good place for the wafer of your letter, as you see I do; otherwise there are sometimes words which I can not make out. I shall be glad when any of the little ones shall be able to conjure out a scrawl to their grandmother and aunt. Pray for them, that they may be early converted to God. Perhaps mother will add a line with her own hand when you write. Dear mother, I wish I could make you some return for all the trouble I once gave you.
Yours ever,A. Judson.”
The native Christians at Maulmain were glad enough, after an interval of ten months, to hear again the voice of their beloved teacher, though he still spoke in feeble accents.
Mrs. Judson writes to his mother:
“I have during the past year suffered deep anxiety and gloomy foreboding on account of my dear husband’s health. But God has been merciful beyond our fears, and so far restored him that he was able to preach last Lord’s day, the first time for about ten months. His discourse was short, and he spoke low. I felt exceedingly anxious respecting his making the attempt, but he has experienced no ill effects from it as yet. How pleased you would have been to see the joy beaming from the countenances of the dear native Christians as they saw their beloved and revered pastor once more take the desk! He applies himself very closely to study, though he is still far from well. He takes coldvery easily, and still feels a slight uneasiness in the chest and left side. But he is so much better than he was, that I am comforted with the hope that he will soon be entirely restored to health.”
“I have during the past year suffered deep anxiety and gloomy foreboding on account of my dear husband’s health. But God has been merciful beyond our fears, and so far restored him that he was able to preach last Lord’s day, the first time for about ten months. His discourse was short, and he spoke low. I felt exceedingly anxious respecting his making the attempt, but he has experienced no ill effects from it as yet. How pleased you would have been to see the joy beaming from the countenances of the dear native Christians as they saw their beloved and revered pastor once more take the desk! He applies himself very closely to study, though he is still far from well. He takes coldvery easily, and still feels a slight uneasiness in the chest and left side. But he is so much better than he was, that I am comforted with the hope that he will soon be entirely restored to health.”
In a letter to a fellow-missionary he refers playfully to the birth of another son at the close of 1839. “Master Henry[56]came into notice the last day of the year; but there was no earthquake or anything,” and he alludes to the infant Henry in a letter of affectionate counsel to George, who was now twelve years old:
“Your letter of January 9 gave us great pleasure, as it furnished proof of your proficiency in learning and of affectionate remembrance. Truly we remember you every day, especially in our prayers. Every morning we come around the family altar, your mother and myself, your sister Abby Ann, and your brothers Adoniram and Elnathan—Henry is too young to attend—and it is our earnest prayer that all our children mayearlybecome partakers of divine grace. I hope you will never neglect the duty ofsecret prayer. Never let a morning or evening pass without going into some room or place by yourself, and kneeling down and spending five or ten minutes at least in praying to God, in the name of Jesus Christ. Pray earnestly that you may have a new heart, and become a child of God, and that you may have satisfactory evidence that such is your happy state.“You observe in your letter that you are sometimes disturbed by frightful dreams, and we hear in other ways that your health is rather delicate. I warmly recommend you to rise every morning between light and sunrise, and take a quick walk of a mile or more, and to the top of some hill, if there be one in the vicinity that will suit your purpose; and in the winter, when you may not be able to walk, get some equivalent exercise in cutting wood or some other work. This is the course that, with some intermissions and with various modifications, I have pursued for thirty-five years; and tothis, under God, I ascribe the good health and the long life I have enjoyed in this unpropitious climate. Your mother frequently accompanies me over the Maulmain hills, and she enjoys much better health than she did at Tavoy, where she took no exercise, scarcely. Do, my dear George, take this matter into serious consideration. You may not like it at first. You will, perhaps, feel tired and sleepy for a few days, but when you become a little used to it, you will enjoy it exceedingly. You will find your appetite improving, your health becoming firm, and your repose by night undisturbed. I have now given you the two best pieces of advice in my power. The first relates to your soul, the second to your body. Follow them, and be virtuous and happy. I hope to hear that you have professed religion, and devoted yourself to the ministry. Who knows but that I shall live to introduce you into missionary work in this country, where your own father labored, and where his remains are entombed. Follow your father, my dear George; and we will all, ere long, be so happy in heaven together, even in the presence of the dear, lovely, glorious Saviour, the Friend of sinners, who died for us.”
“Your letter of January 9 gave us great pleasure, as it furnished proof of your proficiency in learning and of affectionate remembrance. Truly we remember you every day, especially in our prayers. Every morning we come around the family altar, your mother and myself, your sister Abby Ann, and your brothers Adoniram and Elnathan—Henry is too young to attend—and it is our earnest prayer that all our children mayearlybecome partakers of divine grace. I hope you will never neglect the duty ofsecret prayer. Never let a morning or evening pass without going into some room or place by yourself, and kneeling down and spending five or ten minutes at least in praying to God, in the name of Jesus Christ. Pray earnestly that you may have a new heart, and become a child of God, and that you may have satisfactory evidence that such is your happy state.
“You observe in your letter that you are sometimes disturbed by frightful dreams, and we hear in other ways that your health is rather delicate. I warmly recommend you to rise every morning between light and sunrise, and take a quick walk of a mile or more, and to the top of some hill, if there be one in the vicinity that will suit your purpose; and in the winter, when you may not be able to walk, get some equivalent exercise in cutting wood or some other work. This is the course that, with some intermissions and with various modifications, I have pursued for thirty-five years; and tothis, under God, I ascribe the good health and the long life I have enjoyed in this unpropitious climate. Your mother frequently accompanies me over the Maulmain hills, and she enjoys much better health than she did at Tavoy, where she took no exercise, scarcely. Do, my dear George, take this matter into serious consideration. You may not like it at first. You will, perhaps, feel tired and sleepy for a few days, but when you become a little used to it, you will enjoy it exceedingly. You will find your appetite improving, your health becoming firm, and your repose by night undisturbed. I have now given you the two best pieces of advice in my power. The first relates to your soul, the second to your body. Follow them, and be virtuous and happy. I hope to hear that you have professed religion, and devoted yourself to the ministry. Who knows but that I shall live to introduce you into missionary work in this country, where your own father labored, and where his remains are entombed. Follow your father, my dear George; and we will all, ere long, be so happy in heaven together, even in the presence of the dear, lovely, glorious Saviour, the Friend of sinners, who died for us.”
Mrs. Judson’s health also began to fail. She was attacked by the disease which finally terminated her life at St. Helena. The children, too, were all sick, so that a sea voyage was needed for the very preservation of the family. Mr. Judson reluctantly decided to embark with his wife and four children for Calcutta. The imperative reasons for the voyage he states to the Corresponding Secretary:
“I have been in great distress for several months, and think I have not written a letter to America, except one to my mother and sister, since the beginning of the year. Early in March, Mrs. Judson fell into a decline, and became quite confined to her bed. Three of the children had been, for some months, ill; and the two eldest were repeatedly at the point of death. The physicians, missionary brethren, and all my friends in Maulmain, became clamorous that I should try a voyage, as the only remaining means of saving the livesof the greater part of my family. But, extremely reluctant to incur the expense and encounter the breaking up which a voyage would occasion, I suffered myself to be beguiled by transient symptoms of convalescence, until, having lost two opportunities, and seeing most of my family in absolutely desperate circumstances, I consented to embrace the present opportunity, and embarked on the 26th ultimo.”
“I have been in great distress for several months, and think I have not written a letter to America, except one to my mother and sister, since the beginning of the year. Early in March, Mrs. Judson fell into a decline, and became quite confined to her bed. Three of the children had been, for some months, ill; and the two eldest were repeatedly at the point of death. The physicians, missionary brethren, and all my friends in Maulmain, became clamorous that I should try a voyage, as the only remaining means of saving the livesof the greater part of my family. But, extremely reluctant to incur the expense and encounter the breaking up which a voyage would occasion, I suffered myself to be beguiled by transient symptoms of convalescence, until, having lost two opportunities, and seeing most of my family in absolutely desperate circumstances, I consented to embrace the present opportunity, and embarked on the 26th ultimo.”
The voyage was short, but boisterous.
“We had been out only four days,” says Mrs. Judson,“ when we struck on shoals, and for about twenty minutes were expecting to see the large, beautiful vessel a wreck; and then all on board must perish, or at best take refuge in a small boat, exposed to the dreary tempests. I shall never forget my feelings, as I looked over the side of the vessel that night, on the dark ocean, and fancied ourselves with our poor sick, and almost dying children, launched on its stormy waves. The captain tacked as soon as possible, and the tide rising at the time, we were providentially delivered from our extreme peril.”
“We had been out only four days,” says Mrs. Judson,“ when we struck on shoals, and for about twenty minutes were expecting to see the large, beautiful vessel a wreck; and then all on board must perish, or at best take refuge in a small boat, exposed to the dreary tempests. I shall never forget my feelings, as I looked over the side of the vessel that night, on the dark ocean, and fancied ourselves with our poor sick, and almost dying children, launched on its stormy waves. The captain tacked as soon as possible, and the tide rising at the time, we were providentially delivered from our extreme peril.”
When the family arrived at Serampore, just above Calcutta, they hired “a nice, dry house on the very bank of the river.” But though the sea air had naturally revived the invalids, as soon as they came fairly under the hot climate of Bengal they all suffered a relapse. What was to be done? They met at Calcutta a pious Scotch sea captain whose vessel was going to the Isle of France, and from thence to Maulmain. He made the kind proposal to take the whole family on such terms that this circuitous course would cost them no more than to go directly to Maulmain. They dreaded the voyage in the month of August, which is a very dangerous month in the Bay of Bengal, but there seemed to be no other alternative. So Mr. Judson accordingly accepted Captain Hamlin’s kind offer, and decided to set sail for that island, to which he had repaired nearly thirty years before when he had been driven from Bengalby the East India Company. But before leaving Serampore the fond parents were compelled to lay in the grave the form of little Henry, their youngest child. Mr. Judson thus describes this mournful event in a letter to his mother and sister:
“Serampore,August1, 1841.“I wrote you on the 24th ultimo. Perhaps this letter will go by the same conveyance. Wife went down to Calcutta, for a few days, to do a little business, leaving the two younger children with me. On the 27th dear little Henry’s disorder took an unfavorable turn. He had derived less benefit from the voyage and change than the other children, being too young to have his mind engaged and diverted, which greatly contributes to bodily recovery; and being considered less dangerously ill than the others, had, perhaps, less attention paid him than was desirable. His disorder had continued to hold on, though at times greatly mitigated. On the 28th he grew worse, and I wrote down for his mother, and in the evening began to despair of his life. On the 29th the doctor gave him up; and my only prayer was, that he might not die before his mother arrived. Oh, what heavy hours now passed! She arrived with the other children in the night, about two o’clock, and sprang to the cradle of the little sufferer, and could not think that he was really in a dying state. I let her take her own way, and she contrived to give him a little wine and water, which, however, could be of no avail; and when morning came, the marks of death on the countenance were too visible for even the unwilling mother to refuse to acknowledge. We spent the day hanging over our dying babe, and giving him some liquid, for which he was always calling, to relieve his burning thirst. When I said, ‘Henry, my son,’ he would raise his sinking eyelids, and try to stretch out his little arms for me to take him; but he could not bear to be held more than a moment before he would cry to be laid down again. Oh, how restless did he spend his last day, rolling from side to side, and crying out, ‘Nahnee,’ his imperfect pronunciation ofnaughty, by which term he was in the habit of expressing his disapprobation or dissatisfaction. Inthe afternoon he became convulsed for a few moments, and our hearts were rent to witness the distortion of his dear little mouth and face. After that he was more quiet; but toward evening he probably had some violent stroke of death, for he suddenly screamed out in great pain. In the evening he had another turn of convulsion. His mother lay down by his side, and, worn out with fatigue, fell fast asleep. About nine o’clock I had gone into another room, and was lying down, when a servant called me. He began to breathe loud, indicative of the closing scene. I let the mother sleep—sat down by his side, and presently called, as usual, ‘Henry, my son’; upon which he opened his eyes, and looked at me more intelligently and affectionately than he had been able to do for some time; but the effort was too great, and he ceased to breathe. I instantly awoke his mother; he then gave two or three expiring gasps, and it was all over. I stripped the little emaciated body, and washed it, while his mother, with the help of a servant, made a suitable gown; and by eleven o’clock he was laid out in the same cradle in which he died. For a few days Elnathan had been ill with a severe cough and fever, and my attention had been divided between the two. After poor Henry was quiet, we turned all our attention to the others. The two elder children were much better. Next morning we had a coffin made, in which we placed our dear child; and sometimes, when other avocations permitted, looked at him through the day. And oh, how sweet was his dead face! though there was an expression of pain lurking in some of the features. At night a few of our friends came together, and we carried the coffin to the mission burial-ground, where, after a prayer by Mr. Mack, the body was deposited in its final resting-place. Farewell, my darling son Henry. While thy little body rests in the grave, I trust that thy spirit, through the grace of Jesus Christ, is resting in Paradise. We intend to order a small monument erected with this inscription: ‘The grave of Henry Judson, youngest son of the Rev. A. Judson, of Maulmain, who died July 30, 1841, aged one year and seven months.’“Elnathan was very ill last night, and is not much better to-day. We tremble for him. The vessel in which we are going to the Isle of France, we hear, is to remain a few days longer, so that I will add a further line before leaving.“Calcutta,August 6. We have come down to this place with a view to embarking; but the vessel is still detained. Elnathan appears to be very ill, with a complication of complaints. We are in great distress about him. The two elder children continue better.“In haste, yours affectionately,A. Judson.
“Serampore,August1, 1841.
“I wrote you on the 24th ultimo. Perhaps this letter will go by the same conveyance. Wife went down to Calcutta, for a few days, to do a little business, leaving the two younger children with me. On the 27th dear little Henry’s disorder took an unfavorable turn. He had derived less benefit from the voyage and change than the other children, being too young to have his mind engaged and diverted, which greatly contributes to bodily recovery; and being considered less dangerously ill than the others, had, perhaps, less attention paid him than was desirable. His disorder had continued to hold on, though at times greatly mitigated. On the 28th he grew worse, and I wrote down for his mother, and in the evening began to despair of his life. On the 29th the doctor gave him up; and my only prayer was, that he might not die before his mother arrived. Oh, what heavy hours now passed! She arrived with the other children in the night, about two o’clock, and sprang to the cradle of the little sufferer, and could not think that he was really in a dying state. I let her take her own way, and she contrived to give him a little wine and water, which, however, could be of no avail; and when morning came, the marks of death on the countenance were too visible for even the unwilling mother to refuse to acknowledge. We spent the day hanging over our dying babe, and giving him some liquid, for which he was always calling, to relieve his burning thirst. When I said, ‘Henry, my son,’ he would raise his sinking eyelids, and try to stretch out his little arms for me to take him; but he could not bear to be held more than a moment before he would cry to be laid down again. Oh, how restless did he spend his last day, rolling from side to side, and crying out, ‘Nahnee,’ his imperfect pronunciation ofnaughty, by which term he was in the habit of expressing his disapprobation or dissatisfaction. Inthe afternoon he became convulsed for a few moments, and our hearts were rent to witness the distortion of his dear little mouth and face. After that he was more quiet; but toward evening he probably had some violent stroke of death, for he suddenly screamed out in great pain. In the evening he had another turn of convulsion. His mother lay down by his side, and, worn out with fatigue, fell fast asleep. About nine o’clock I had gone into another room, and was lying down, when a servant called me. He began to breathe loud, indicative of the closing scene. I let the mother sleep—sat down by his side, and presently called, as usual, ‘Henry, my son’; upon which he opened his eyes, and looked at me more intelligently and affectionately than he had been able to do for some time; but the effort was too great, and he ceased to breathe. I instantly awoke his mother; he then gave two or three expiring gasps, and it was all over. I stripped the little emaciated body, and washed it, while his mother, with the help of a servant, made a suitable gown; and by eleven o’clock he was laid out in the same cradle in which he died. For a few days Elnathan had been ill with a severe cough and fever, and my attention had been divided between the two. After poor Henry was quiet, we turned all our attention to the others. The two elder children were much better. Next morning we had a coffin made, in which we placed our dear child; and sometimes, when other avocations permitted, looked at him through the day. And oh, how sweet was his dead face! though there was an expression of pain lurking in some of the features. At night a few of our friends came together, and we carried the coffin to the mission burial-ground, where, after a prayer by Mr. Mack, the body was deposited in its final resting-place. Farewell, my darling son Henry. While thy little body rests in the grave, I trust that thy spirit, through the grace of Jesus Christ, is resting in Paradise. We intend to order a small monument erected with this inscription: ‘The grave of Henry Judson, youngest son of the Rev. A. Judson, of Maulmain, who died July 30, 1841, aged one year and seven months.’
“Elnathan was very ill last night, and is not much better to-day. We tremble for him. The vessel in which we are going to the Isle of France, we hear, is to remain a few days longer, so that I will add a further line before leaving.
“Calcutta,August 6. We have come down to this place with a view to embarking; but the vessel is still detained. Elnathan appears to be very ill, with a complication of complaints. We are in great distress about him. The two elder children continue better.
“In haste, yours affectionately,A. Judson.
“In haste, yours affectionately,A. Judson.
“In haste, yours affectionately,A. Judson.
“In haste, yours affectionately,
A. Judson.
“August 13.We are still waiting the moving of the vessel, but shall positively go on board the 16th. Elnathan is much better, so that we hope the danger of losing him is past. The other children continue to improve. Farewell for the present.“P. S.—I enclose a small lock of poor dear Henry’s hair. We are very sad whenever we think of that bright, sweet boy. It was the will of God that he should be taken from us; so we must be resigned, and I hope that he is now waiting to welcome us to the Paradise where, we trust, he has safely arrived. Two vessels have just come in from America, but we have got nothing from you. Perhaps there may be a letter or some box which will be forwarded to Maulmain.”
“August 13.We are still waiting the moving of the vessel, but shall positively go on board the 16th. Elnathan is much better, so that we hope the danger of losing him is past. The other children continue to improve. Farewell for the present.
“P. S.—I enclose a small lock of poor dear Henry’s hair. We are very sad whenever we think of that bright, sweet boy. It was the will of God that he should be taken from us; so we must be resigned, and I hope that he is now waiting to welcome us to the Paradise where, we trust, he has safely arrived. Two vessels have just come in from America, but we have got nothing from you. Perhaps there may be a letter or some box which will be forwarded to Maulmain.”
Bidding farewell to the newly-made grave, Mr. and Mrs. Judson, with their sick children, embarked on board theRamsay, Captain Hamlin. The voyage to the Isle of France occupied about six weeks, and as the monsoon was drawing to a close, the storms were very frequent, sudden and severe. Mr. Judson writes under date of August 22, 1841:
“Dear Mrs. H.: We are on board theRamsay, pitching most fearfully. We have been lying several days waiting for the weather, and have now got up anchor, so that I am writing a line or two to send back by the pilot.”
“Dear Mrs. H.: We are on board theRamsay, pitching most fearfully. We have been lying several days waiting for the weather, and have now got up anchor, so that I am writing a line or two to send back by the pilot.”
And Mrs. Judson thus records their experience:
“Could you now look on our dismasted vessel you wouldindeed say, she is a ‘ship in distress.’ For the last three days we have had the most frightful squalls I ever experienced; and yesterday two top-masts, a top-gallant mast, and the jib-boom, with all their sails, were torn away, causing a tremendous crash. For the last two nights I have not closed my eyes to sleep, and I find it quite impossible to sleep now. I have, therefore, taken my pen, though the vessel rolls so that I fear my writing will be quite illegible. Do not infer from anything I have said that I am suffering from terror; my wakefulness has been occasioned only by bodily discomfort, arising from the violent tossing of the vessel. I thank God that I feel perfectly calm and resigned; and I can leave myself and my dear family in His hands, with a feeling of perfect peace and composure.”
“Could you now look on our dismasted vessel you wouldindeed say, she is a ‘ship in distress.’ For the last three days we have had the most frightful squalls I ever experienced; and yesterday two top-masts, a top-gallant mast, and the jib-boom, with all their sails, were torn away, causing a tremendous crash. For the last two nights I have not closed my eyes to sleep, and I find it quite impossible to sleep now. I have, therefore, taken my pen, though the vessel rolls so that I fear my writing will be quite illegible. Do not infer from anything I have said that I am suffering from terror; my wakefulness has been occasioned only by bodily discomfort, arising from the violent tossing of the vessel. I thank God that I feel perfectly calm and resigned; and I can leave myself and my dear family in His hands, with a feeling of perfect peace and composure.”
But this voyage, severe as it was, proved very beneficial to the invalids, and, after spending a month in Port Louis, they returned to Maulmain, where they arrived on December 10, in greatly improved health.
Captain Hamlin declined to receive any compensation for the passage from Calcutta to Maulmainviathe Isle of France, although a fair charge for the double voyage would have been two thousand rupees, or about one thousand dollars. The four hundred rupees which Mr. Judson sent him, merely as an expression of his gratitude, were returned, the noble sailor saying that he considered it a privilege to have been able to show some kindness to the servants of Christ. Mr. Judson wrote at once to the Board, suggesting that they should send to the captain a formal letter of thanks, together with a present, “say of a set of the ‘Comprehensive Commentary,’” to be addressed to Captain Thomas Hamlin, Jr., Greenock, Scotland. The following interesting incidents relating to this voyage found their way into a pamphlet, compiled by “John Simpson, Minister of the Gospel, Greenock”:
“After remaining about four weeks in Bombay, theRamsaysailed for Maulmain, in Burmah, and from thence to Calcutta. During these passagessome favorable impressions seemed to have been produced in the minds of the crew; and on their arrival at Calcutta they conducted themselves with greater propriety than at any of the former ports; here they regularly attended the floating chapel. Whilst the ship was at Calcutta, the captain paid a visit to the Baptist missionary establishment at Serampore. There he fell in with the indefatigable missionary, Dr. Judson, from Burmah, who was at Serampore with his family for the improvement of their health. As theRamsaywas shortly to sail for the Island of Mauritius, and from thence to Maulmain—Dr. Judson’s residence—Captain Hamlin kindly offered them a passage, in the hope that it would be conducive to the object they had in view. Having accepted the offer thus generously made to him and his family, Dr. Judson felt a strong desire to be useful to the seamen, in whose dangers he was about to share. He made it a matter of prayer to God that he might be instrumental in turning some of them from the error of their ways; and, before going on board, expressed a conviction that God Had heard him, and that He would answer him in communicating His grace to some, if not to all, of the crew. After putting to sea, worship was conducted by Dr. Judson and the captain alternately; but on the Sabbaths the whole of the services were conducted by the doctor. Possessing all his mental vigor, and his ardent love for souls having suffered no abatement, he availed himself of these opportunities, in addition to private instruction, to promote the great end he had in view, and for which he had so earnestly prayed, previously to his embarking on board theRamsay. His manner of address was of the most touching description, and seldom failed in making the big tear roll down the weather-beaten cheeks of his hardy auditors. It soon became apparent that he was not laboring in vain, nor spending his strength for nought. Before their arrival at the Mauritius, three of the seamen gave pleasing evidence of being converted to God. During their stay at the Mauritius, public worship was held on board every Sabbath, and was well attended, both by seamen and landsmen. Religion was in a languid state amongst the inhabitants generally. There were, however, a few who seemed concerned for the advancement of Christ’s kingdom, and by them it had been in contemplation to fit up a seaman’s chapel. They had even gone so far as to make application to the late benevolent governor, Sir Lionel Smith, for the use of an old ship lying there, belonging to Government; the application had been favorably received; still nothing had been done toward effecting the object they had in view, till the captain of theRamsay, hearing how matters stood, set about raising subscriptions toward fitting up the said vessel as a Bethel; he likewise presented another memorial to the governor, but was obliged to leave at this time, without seeing the work accomplished.“Leaving the Island of Mauritius, their next port of destination was Maulmain, in Burmah. On the passage, the usual religious services were attended to; and, in addition to the ordinary meetings, an extra one, for prayer and exhortation, was held every Wednesday evening, and conducted by the seamen who had professed the name of Christ. This meeting was the means of effecting much good. Amongst other things which came before their minds was the subject of baptism. By a diligent perusal of the word of God, and the instructions of Dr. Judson, the new converts were convinced that baptism by immersion was the Scriptural mode, and that it was their duty, as believers in Christ, to be baptized in His name. Hence they determined, with the captain—who had doubts regarding the truth of infant baptism, before his leaving home—to be baptized on the first convenient opportunity after reaching Maulmain. Accordingly, on the first Sabbath after their arrival, the captain, mate, and two of the seamen, together with a Burmese female, were ‘buried with Christ by baptism,’ in presence of a large assemblage of natives and others, who appeared to take a deep interest in all the solemn services that were attended to. The ordinance was administered by Dr. Judson.“At Maulmain there are two Baptist churches—one for the natives, which is supplied by Dr. Judson; the other for Europeans, etc., which is supplied by assistant missionaries. Both churches were in a flourishing condition. The missionary work was being zealously prosecuted, and many of the heathen were renouncing their idols and embracing the Saviour. The labors of the missionaries had been eminently successful among the Karen tribe. Whilst at Maulmain, the captain and mate paid a visit to one of the villages of these interesting people. On their arrival they found the chief—who acts also as their spiritual teacher—with nearly the whole of the villagers, busily engaged in their rice-fields. On thegongbeing sounded, which was the signal for the arrival of the missionaries, they flocked into the native chapel; and, after greeting affectionately their teachers, they turned to the captain and mate, and asked their chief, ‘Do these men love Christ?’ Being answered in the affirmative, they received them with much cordiality, and, on their departure, loaded their boat with fruit, etc., etc.“TheRamsayremained at Maulmain eight weeks, during which time the intercourse of the crew with the Christians on shore was of the most pleasing description. The evening before they sailed from this place, Dr. Judson delivered a farewell address on board theRamsay, which produced a deep and solemn impression. All were melted into tears, as was the case with Dr. Judson himself. He alluded to the providential manner in which he had been brought amongst them, the many happy and profitable hours he had spent in their society, the converting graceof God which they had all been privileged to witness, and some to experience; and those who professed the faith he exhorted ‘that with purpose of heart they would cleave unto the Lord’; and those who had still held out against the entreaties of melting mercy he besought to be reconciled to God. After engaging in solemn prayer for all on board, and giving them his parting blessing, he retired, whilst, like Paul’s Christian brethren at Ephesus, ‘they sorrowed most of all for the words which he spake, that they should see his face no more.’”
“After remaining about four weeks in Bombay, theRamsaysailed for Maulmain, in Burmah, and from thence to Calcutta. During these passagessome favorable impressions seemed to have been produced in the minds of the crew; and on their arrival at Calcutta they conducted themselves with greater propriety than at any of the former ports; here they regularly attended the floating chapel. Whilst the ship was at Calcutta, the captain paid a visit to the Baptist missionary establishment at Serampore. There he fell in with the indefatigable missionary, Dr. Judson, from Burmah, who was at Serampore with his family for the improvement of their health. As theRamsaywas shortly to sail for the Island of Mauritius, and from thence to Maulmain—Dr. Judson’s residence—Captain Hamlin kindly offered them a passage, in the hope that it would be conducive to the object they had in view. Having accepted the offer thus generously made to him and his family, Dr. Judson felt a strong desire to be useful to the seamen, in whose dangers he was about to share. He made it a matter of prayer to God that he might be instrumental in turning some of them from the error of their ways; and, before going on board, expressed a conviction that God Had heard him, and that He would answer him in communicating His grace to some, if not to all, of the crew. After putting to sea, worship was conducted by Dr. Judson and the captain alternately; but on the Sabbaths the whole of the services were conducted by the doctor. Possessing all his mental vigor, and his ardent love for souls having suffered no abatement, he availed himself of these opportunities, in addition to private instruction, to promote the great end he had in view, and for which he had so earnestly prayed, previously to his embarking on board theRamsay. His manner of address was of the most touching description, and seldom failed in making the big tear roll down the weather-beaten cheeks of his hardy auditors. It soon became apparent that he was not laboring in vain, nor spending his strength for nought. Before their arrival at the Mauritius, three of the seamen gave pleasing evidence of being converted to God. During their stay at the Mauritius, public worship was held on board every Sabbath, and was well attended, both by seamen and landsmen. Religion was in a languid state amongst the inhabitants generally. There were, however, a few who seemed concerned for the advancement of Christ’s kingdom, and by them it had been in contemplation to fit up a seaman’s chapel. They had even gone so far as to make application to the late benevolent governor, Sir Lionel Smith, for the use of an old ship lying there, belonging to Government; the application had been favorably received; still nothing had been done toward effecting the object they had in view, till the captain of theRamsay, hearing how matters stood, set about raising subscriptions toward fitting up the said vessel as a Bethel; he likewise presented another memorial to the governor, but was obliged to leave at this time, without seeing the work accomplished.
“Leaving the Island of Mauritius, their next port of destination was Maulmain, in Burmah. On the passage, the usual religious services were attended to; and, in addition to the ordinary meetings, an extra one, for prayer and exhortation, was held every Wednesday evening, and conducted by the seamen who had professed the name of Christ. This meeting was the means of effecting much good. Amongst other things which came before their minds was the subject of baptism. By a diligent perusal of the word of God, and the instructions of Dr. Judson, the new converts were convinced that baptism by immersion was the Scriptural mode, and that it was their duty, as believers in Christ, to be baptized in His name. Hence they determined, with the captain—who had doubts regarding the truth of infant baptism, before his leaving home—to be baptized on the first convenient opportunity after reaching Maulmain. Accordingly, on the first Sabbath after their arrival, the captain, mate, and two of the seamen, together with a Burmese female, were ‘buried with Christ by baptism,’ in presence of a large assemblage of natives and others, who appeared to take a deep interest in all the solemn services that were attended to. The ordinance was administered by Dr. Judson.
“At Maulmain there are two Baptist churches—one for the natives, which is supplied by Dr. Judson; the other for Europeans, etc., which is supplied by assistant missionaries. Both churches were in a flourishing condition. The missionary work was being zealously prosecuted, and many of the heathen were renouncing their idols and embracing the Saviour. The labors of the missionaries had been eminently successful among the Karen tribe. Whilst at Maulmain, the captain and mate paid a visit to one of the villages of these interesting people. On their arrival they found the chief—who acts also as their spiritual teacher—with nearly the whole of the villagers, busily engaged in their rice-fields. On thegongbeing sounded, which was the signal for the arrival of the missionaries, they flocked into the native chapel; and, after greeting affectionately their teachers, they turned to the captain and mate, and asked their chief, ‘Do these men love Christ?’ Being answered in the affirmative, they received them with much cordiality, and, on their departure, loaded their boat with fruit, etc., etc.
“TheRamsayremained at Maulmain eight weeks, during which time the intercourse of the crew with the Christians on shore was of the most pleasing description. The evening before they sailed from this place, Dr. Judson delivered a farewell address on board theRamsay, which produced a deep and solemn impression. All were melted into tears, as was the case with Dr. Judson himself. He alluded to the providential manner in which he had been brought amongst them, the many happy and profitable hours he had spent in their society, the converting graceof God which they had all been privileged to witness, and some to experience; and those who professed the faith he exhorted ‘that with purpose of heart they would cleave unto the Lord’; and those who had still held out against the entreaties of melting mercy he besought to be reconciled to God. After engaging in solemn prayer for all on board, and giving them his parting blessing, he retired, whilst, like Paul’s Christian brethren at Ephesus, ‘they sorrowed most of all for the words which he spake, that they should see his face no more.’”
Soon after Mr. and Mrs. Judson and their three children returned to Maulmain, Henry Hall Judson[57]was born July 8, 1842. He was named after the little boy whom they had left in his lonely grave at Serampore.
About this time Mr. Judson heard of the death of his venerable mother, who departed this life at Plymouth, Mass., in the eighty-third year of her age. His father and brother Elnathan had died before; and his sister Abigail was now left alone at Plymouth.
And now there was pressed upon Mr. Judson a great task, and one from which he had long shrank. The Board at home urgently desired him to undertake the compilation of a Burman dictionary. His heart longed to be engaged in direct individual work, winning souls to Christ. He had no relish for the seclusion which the work of translation required. Years before, he had written:
“In regard to a dictionary, I do not see how I can possibly undertake it. And if you consider my situation a moment, you will, I am persuaded, be of my opinion.... Must this population of twenty thousand be left to perish without any effort to save them, except what is made by a few very inefficient native assistants? Ought there not to be a preaching missionary in this great, growing place?”
“In regard to a dictionary, I do not see how I can possibly undertake it. And if you consider my situation a moment, you will, I am persuaded, be of my opinion.... Must this population of twenty thousand be left to perish without any effort to save them, except what is made by a few very inefficient native assistants? Ought there not to be a preaching missionary in this great, growing place?”
But no one else seemed qualified for this task, and the failure of his voice imperatively forbade his preaching. And so, with the utmost reluctance, he turned toward a workwhich was to occupy a large part of his time during the rest of his life. Under date of April 17, 1843, he writes, “I am chiefly occupied in the Burman dictionary, at the repeated suggestion of the Board,” and he addressed the following letter to the Corresponding Secretary: