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CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 JOHN M. ECHOLS 
 Collection on Southeast Asia 
 
3 1924 096 305 002 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of this book is in 
 the Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924096305002 
 
{Fanny Forester.) 
 
EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 $, gjBUmorial* 
 
 By WALTER N. WYETH, D. D., 
 
 PHILADELPHIA, PA. 
 
 I do not ask that Thou shouldst lift 
 My feet to mountain heights sublime, 
 
 So much as for the heavenly gift 
 Of strength, with which myself may climb ; 
 
 Making the power Thou madest mine 
 
 For using, by that use, divine. 
 
 Alice Cary. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA, PA. 
 
 Published by the Author. 
 
 1890. 
 
A- 1 A 
 
 3v 
 
 3T-H 
 
 To "The Temple Builders," 
 engaged in 
 Spreading the Gospel. 
 Very Sincerely, 
 The Author. 
 
 Electrotyped, Printed and Bound by Entered according to Act of Congress, 
 
 C. J. KREHEIEL & CO. in the year 1890, by W. N. WYETH, 
 
 Nos. 248 and 250 Walnut Street, in the Office of the Librarian of 
 
 CINCINNATI. Congress, at Washington. 
 
TT is with the gratification that attends success, and 
 with the pleasure which accompanies admiration of 
 the subject, that the author adds this volume, the third 
 of the series, to the Missionary Memorials already pub- 
 lished. The acceptance which the former ones have en- 
 joyed, and the completeness this one gives to the biog- 
 raphies of the trio of illustrious wives of Dr. Judson, as- 
 sure for it as large a circulation as that of the others. 
 Like those, it is an independent narrative ; yet proper 
 regard has been had for all the writings accessible con- 
 cerning the subject. The author would mention, with 
 peculiar admiration, the " Life and Letters of Emily C. 
 Judson," by Dr. A. C. Kendrick, in which are found au- 
 thentic letters and documents of much importance to the 
 biographer. 
 
 There is a charm to such a character as that of Emily 
 Chubbuck, and a lesson in her trying and eventful career 
 that is of great value to the young, especially such as 
 must cope with great difficulties if they would succeed 
 in life. Her life presents a fine example of superiority 
 to circumstances, and of loyalty and love for parents 
 that needs to be emphasized and followed. 
 
 The missionary element of this beautiful character 
 is worth noting, as showing how one with the right spirit 
 
IV PREFATORY NOTE. 
 
 may be effective for good, in some way, on any field. Her 
 development in this service came late but it was very rapid. 
 Her mind was immediately engrossed with family cares, 
 and this circumstance, with her coyness and illness, kept 
 her back from public work to some extent, yet she per- 
 formed much literary and spiritual labor in the mission, 
 and endeared herself to the native Christians. For the 
 time and opportunity given her she made a creditable 
 record in the service. The author trusts that his readers 
 will enjoy and be benefited by this story of heroism in 
 humble life. 
 
 W. N. W. 
 No. 854 Union Street, 
 
 Philadelphia, Pa., April 1, 1890. 
 
PAGE. 
 I. FOREGLEAMS — PLACE AND PERSON 7 
 
 II. Morning — Cloud and Sky, . . . . 15 
 
 III. Ephemera — Home and Health, . 2S 
 
 IV. New Arena — Schooling, "Trippings," ... 41 
 V. Authorship — A Friend in Need, . 54 
 
 VI. Charmed Watch— The Swift Secret, . . . 68 
 
 VII. Glimpses— New Attitudes, Old Paths, . . 80 
 
 VIII. Marriage — Adieus, Ocean, Orient, .... 95 
 
 IX: Settling — Green Turban's Den 107 
 
 X. Maulmain — Three Years There, . . ... 123 
 
 XI. "The Iron Cross" — Homeward Flight, 137 
 
 XII. Authorship Again — For Love and for Life, 150 
 
 XIII. Eventide — Preparing for Rest, . . . 162 
 
 XIV. Supplementary— " Madness of the Mission- 
 
 ary Enterprise," 175 
 
®o rescue wtrtwons actions frowt 
 
 the obltoton to tuhtch a want of recoro* 
 n»oMlo consign them. 
 
 Tacitus — " Use of History" 
 
EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 i. 
 
 goveQleam*— place and person. 
 
 Better to stem with heart and hand 
 The roaring tide of life, than lie 
 
 Unmindful, on its flowery strand, 
 Of God's occasions drifting by. 
 
 Whittier. 
 
 Those jewels saved in heaven, 
 
 And the garnered prayers and tears, 
 All good for which he's striven, 
 
 Through weary, toilsome years, 
 Up in that world of rest 
 
 His monument shall be ; 
 For the spring his finger pressed 
 
 Has moved eternity. 
 
 Emii,y C. Judson, 
 "Tribute to Rev. Daniel Hascall." 
 
 T^AME is sometimes dual. A person and a place be- 
 ■*- come united in reputation. While each may pos- 
 sess elements of superiority, and be mentioned alone, it 
 often occurs that one derives note from the other, and 
 that they are mutually helpful to a just renown. 
 
 The glen or height that impresses the observer as 
 being peculiarly a product of God's skillful hand be- 
 comes the producer of a mind that is capable of seeing 
 and describing it, and of giving wings to its name. 
 
 7 
 
8 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 Scenery is a nurse of genius, while genius reveals its 
 beauties to eyes not swift to discover nor strong to 
 compass them. Cooper had his Cooperstown; while 
 this picturesque village, nestling among the hills of 
 central New York, became famous through him. In 
 the same region of hills and lakes is Hamilton, of 
 many years and excellent name, the seat of a well- 
 known university and the nurse of piety and talent. 
 
 From University Hill, looking northward, the ob- 
 server has a full view, at the first glance, of the lovely 
 village of the plain. It is a fine mosaic of homes, 
 reaching on the right and on the left to the limits of 
 the plain, and variegated with abundant bristling ever- 
 greens and luxuriant maples. In summer its dwell- 
 ings are shielded from the sun by the most affluent 
 foliage. From the foot of the Hill it stretches north- 
 ward, having an air of newness as it advances, and 
 showing its growth most in the distance. It termi- 
 nates at Woodman's Pond, a lovely circular lakelet, 
 bayonetted about with pines and cedars, and just visi- 
 ble from the Hill, in which fowls and fishes play, and 
 the silent stars mirror themselves in unruffled beauty. 
 
 On the right and the left, grand and graceful 
 heights, like the extended arms of a giant, hold the 
 town within the plain ; approaching each other far to 
 the north and taking the lake into their embrace. On 
 their sunny slopes rest the quiet homes of contented 
 people, who follow the herd and turn the sod for a 
 moderate subsistence. At the base of each range a 
 brook runs southward, meandering to the east and the 
 west of University Hill and soon forming the Chenan- 
 go, a river that threads the beautiful valley of the same 
 
A MEMORIAL. 9 
 
 name, and with it widens and extends to the Susque- 
 hanna. 
 
 The sun has a cold atmosphere to withstand, and 
 great eminences to surmount. It is late in bringing 
 the day over the one summit, and early in its west- 
 ering beyond the other. The sky arches this little 
 world of Hamilton in something of an Arctic splen- 
 dor, with its bearings firmly fixed on the circumja- 
 cent hills. Viewed at the great range which the 
 position offers to the eye and which the magnitudes 
 presented require, the scene is surpassingly lovely 
 and impressive. It stills the tongue and awakens 
 reverie. 
 
 And reverie is increased as the observer turns and 
 looks upon the University buildings, in which, for gen- 
 erations, minds have been trained to do the world's 
 work ; and beyond the terrace upon which they stand, 
 to the " form sublime," the monster hill, in the shadow 
 of which they rest. This hill on the south, towering 
 almost to the path of the sun and well-nigh hiding his 
 winter march, contains immense supplies of rock and 
 other valuable deposits of nature. But the most cher- 
 ished treasures hidden in its bosom are the remains of 
 men who served their generation by the will of God 
 and here fell asleep. Here is the dust of Presidents — 
 Nathaniel Kendrick, Stephen W. Taylor, George W. 
 Eaton, Ebenezer Dodge — dust that gives sanctity to 
 the ground in which it reposes, and adds lustre to the 
 annals of the community. The cemetery, on the op- 
 posite side of the village, north, contains the remains 
 of many who, as counselors and supporters of the 
 workers on the Hill, form the complementary chapter 
 
IO EMIIvY C. JUDSON. 
 
 in the history of the locality. Some returning from 
 life's work elsewhere have found their resting place, 
 there. One of these, with whom this volume is special- 
 ly concerned, lies beneath a stone marked, with most 
 appropriate simplicity, 
 
 ©cat EmllB. 
 
 Inwood and Woodland Height, with the serpentine 
 path intervening and running from the buildings to 
 the plain, and the Spear Home, each with its beautiful 
 frontage and prominence, ranked among the old time 
 attractions. I^ate improvements and growths impart 
 to the several college eminences new grandeur and 
 beauty, and the outlook from either, or the onlook from 
 the town, gives to the beholder the thought of a pro- 
 vision for the ages. 
 
 On the farther side of these ranges, right and left, 
 are places of interest. Of some, age is the most notice- 
 able feature. Man has not found in all the opportunity 
 that fully enlists his powers, while Nature has proven 
 her independent force in stream and shrub and other 
 elements of life. Villages barely sustain their visibili- 
 ty away from the throbbing world; but old Earth re- 
 tains its identity, and thrives on. 
 
 This picturesque region of central New York, 
 bounded according to the fancy of the viewer, has 
 been a realm of intellect and a radiating center of 
 moral power for a long time. It was settled in seques- 
 tered clusters, where inviting streams proffered power 
 to the manufacturer and their sunny banks a margin 
 of soil to the husbandman. The settlers came from 
 the east, where school advantages were prominent, and 
 
A MEMORIAL. II 
 
 at once sought to create a corresponding atmosphere 
 in their respective communities ; and to this day not 
 the common school alone, but likewise institutions of 
 higher learning are found in proper distribution. 
 
 Hamilton is practically a center to this section. In 
 age, in the beauty of its situation and improvements, 
 and the character of its inhabitants from the first, it 
 has unquestioned eminence. A century ago the sin- 
 ewy New Englander found a home here, and from the 
 time of his settlement his name has not ceased to go 
 upon its annals, civil and religious. The town has 
 been a pulsating heart and an imparting brain to the 
 latitude and to the wide world. The sun has revealed 
 its attractiveness and drawn it out into the highest 
 expression, while itself has proved to be a sun of not a 
 little power and wideness of shining. 
 
 To this locality came, a century ago, robust men 
 of the Granite, Green Mountain and other men-pro- 
 ducing states. They came to plant for God and their 
 kind. 
 
 "They took fire from'Isaiah in bosom and brain, 
 And embroidered the age on whose border they stood." 
 
 The thought of a school for the training of youth to 
 perform superior service for the church and the world, 
 and of founding it here, first took possession of 
 their minds, and through them became a dominant 
 idea throughout the region. They moved slowly, yet 
 strongly. They gave a new atmosphere to the place ; 
 and those who breathed it drank early and deeply of 
 their spirit. 
 
 Very soon the hills round about became resonant 
 
12 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 with a new order of voices, which have not died away 
 but rather have increased in number ; and these have 
 resolutely announced the Great Commission to the 
 dwellers in the vales and on the hill-tops to this day. 
 The joyful sound widened out into all the country. 
 Old men began to dream dreams, such as they had not 
 dreamed aforetime ; young men saw visions, and sons 
 and daughters commenced to prophesy. A man of 
 Macedonia stood before them. Crying for help, he 
 kindled their sympathies. An enlarged vision of the 
 truth and a " famine of the word" occurred to the 
 mind simultaneously and with wonderful effect. The 
 first student in the new school, a spectre to some of 
 the saints and a glad fruition to others, went up to the 
 prophet's chamber that he might improve his gift of 
 prophesy.* 
 
 Was it strange that a rising missionary force, in a 
 period of missionary awakening, should deeply impress 
 the people of God? In the institution the nascent mis- 
 sionary was the ideal student, as the minister was the 
 ideal man. And how beautiful. upon the mountains 
 were the feet of them, as they proclaimed the good tid- 
 ings and called upon a recreant church to send them 
 on, over the seas, to the sunny climes of the Orient ! 
 
 Was it strange that woman's alert mind should be 
 reached by the teachings of her superiors, and reflec- 
 tion on the great truths in the foreground be awak- 
 ened? With her active sensibilities the doctrines con- 
 cerning the lost condition of the race, and the conse- 
 
 *Rev. Jonathan .Wade, D. D., so long an eminent missionary in the 
 East. He began his recitations, according to the undoubted tradition, in 
 the sleeping-room of Professor Daniel Hascall. 
 
A MEMORIAL. 13 
 
 quent duty of Christians to spread the Gospel, took 
 firm hold of her heart. She became "wise-hearted," and 
 spun and knitted and wove, and brought the varied 
 products of her fingers to the L,ord's treasury. Mean- 
 time the pioneer churches were revived under the new 
 missionary impulse, and rude temples became glorious 
 on account of the presence of the Shechinah. 
 
 What wonder, too, that woman's heart, even at that 
 early day, should be touched with a peculiar sympathy 
 for the work of missions as a personal privilege ! The 
 laborer was worthy of his help-meet, and the woman 
 was worthy to participate in his " hire." Besides, there 
 was a peculiar adaptedness in work for the heathen to 
 arouse woman's nature, and to cause her to lay her 
 energies under contribution and to risk her life in it ; 
 and this fact gave nerve to him who needed her spirit, 
 joined unto his own, when about to place himself on 
 the altar of missions. 
 
 Beyond the great ridge on the left, northward, lived 
 some upon whom focalized an unusual interest ; among 
 them a young woman in the very humblest life, a 
 bright but tremulous star in occultation. She event- 
 ually evinced such striking traits of mind that her 
 name came to be woven into a fadeless chaplet upon 
 which American readers delighted to bestow their 
 praises. Her native hills became vocal with the verses 
 of her girlish pen ; the scenes of her childhood and 
 first endeavors were rendered fascinating by her 
 characterizations of them, while herself, poetic sprite 
 that she was, became an object of sympathetic interest 
 through a brilliant though brief career. Her piety 
 pervaded her mental creations and savored her "expe- 
 
14 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 riences, whether in the buoyancy of health or "in the 
 land of her affliction." 
 
 This character, of exceptional prominence, had a 
 strange Providential leading, full of loving lessons and 
 severe strains, and culminating in a sphere of honor 
 and usefulness to which any pious heart might aspire 
 as the goal of life. To glance at the places where she 
 lived and labored, and to collect the beams of her shin- 
 ing for the enlightenment of the youth of to-day, is the 
 aim of this narrative. The girl and the woman, the 
 author and the missionary — all tried and tempered in 
 the school of adversity — will make up the instructive 
 " true story" herein given. 
 
A MEMORIAL. 15 
 
 II. 
 
 $$lovnixx& — cloud and sky. 
 
 Oft have I sat, in moonlit hours, 
 
 Beside the brook where sweet wild-flowers 
 
 Perfumed the evening air; 
 Low drooped the alders, as to trace 
 Soft mysteries on the water's face, 
 
 And I was free from care. 
 
 Lavinia R. Chubbuck. 
 
 Ill that He blesses is our good, 
 
 And unblessed good is ill; 
 And all is right that seems most wrong, 
 
 If it be His sweet will. 
 
 Faber. 
 
 EMII/V CHUBBUCK was a "child of genius and 
 song"; the first to awaken in her native hills an 
 echo of praise to the strains of poetry and the beau- 
 ties of prose, the creations of the place. Hers was a 
 launch in the life of letters that exemplified a true in- 
 dependence of mind, as to both the character of the 
 writing and its purpose. She was without anteced- 
 ents to support her, and had not a shadow of prestige 
 to make room for her ; while her surroundings were a 
 succession of obstacles that only the firmest fortitude, 
 with the helping hand of God, could surmount. She 
 stood alone in her community, in the solitude of her 
 originality and fight with fortune. 
 
 She was born August 22, 1817, one mile and a half 
 
l6 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 south of the village of Eaton, and five miles from 
 Hamilton, just beyond the range on the left. The lit- 
 tle house of her nativity early disappeared, and her 
 childhood was passed in another near by, built by her 
 grandfather, " stuck in the side of the hill," and cele- 
 brated by her own pen as " Underhill Cottage." It 
 was on a farm, with a trout-stream bordered by spotted 
 alders running through it. The public road passed 
 just above it, and its roof sloped down so nearly to 
 the ground on the upper side that one might believe 
 he could "step from the road to the tip of the 
 chimney." "Alderbrook " ran below it, and " Straw- 
 berry Hill" rose just beyond. It was half-hidden 
 in trees and shrubbery, with wild and cultivated vines 
 clambering over it, and the old red rose and other 
 sweet flowers of the age of simplicity exhaled their 
 fragrance at the doors and windows. Amid the 
 wilds of the glen, and along the murmuring stream, 
 which gave name to the heroine's best writings, the 
 entrancing "Alderbrook," the Chubbuck children spent 
 their guileless years, and wove a bond of local and 
 mutual attachment that never was in the least re- 
 laxed. 
 
 The parents, Charles and Lavinia R. Chubbuck, 
 came from New Hampshire to the above locality, in 
 1816. They brought with them four children, and 
 to this number several were added,, making them 
 " blessed " with children. They made their offspring 
 heirs to poverty and disease ; yet they endowed them 
 with some superior gifts, and gave them a heritage of 
 virtue amid the most exacting cares and the fiercest 
 fight with circumstances. Both were intelligent, but 
 

 
 
 ELJ&&& 
 
 ^4Jj* 
 
 ^ '4?'^ 
 
 *".* v 
 
A MEMORIAL. 17 
 
 in some of the essentials to prosperity they were un- 
 equally yoked. The fine intellect of the mother con- 
 tained the element of practical sagacity, but it could 
 not compensate for the lack of that needful quality in 
 the " head " of affairs ; hence the comforts they once 
 had were ere long wanting, and there was not the 
 worldly wisdom to restore them. Things continued 
 as they began ; schemes failed, and the greatest efforts 
 brought but the barest subsistence. 
 
 Emily came as the fifth child, "born for adver- 
 sity," and, while sustaining a fragile constitution of 
 her own, her time and place in the family brought 
 upon her heart and hands the frailties that had been 
 ripening in the older ones. Before she was fifteen 
 years of age she had seen two of her elder sisters 
 wither at the hearthstone, and had devoted to them 
 the sympathetic powers of her own fragile being. 
 L,ate in her career she embalmed them in an affection- 
 ate tribute entitled " My Two Sisters." The unity of 
 the family was strengthened, doubtless, by means of 
 the penury in whose relentless grip it was held. 
 Emily evinced such a tender attachment to each mem- 
 ber and such a sense of responsibility for all, that her 
 girlhood was almost buried beneath the burdens she 
 bore on their behalf. 
 
 Speaking of a period still earlier, she says : " I was 
 an exceedingly delicate child, and my mother was 
 often warned that she could ' have me with her but a 
 short time.' I remember being much petted and in- 
 dulged during my first years, and also being several 
 times prostrated for a week or more after a day's visit 
 with my little cousins. The first event of any impor- 
 
1 8 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 tance which I remember is the conversion of my sister 
 Lavinia, when I was about seven years of age." 
 
 When Emily was in her eleventh year, the family 
 removed to Pratt's Hollow, a small village some miles 
 to the northeastward, where there was a woolen 
 factory. The poverty of the family continued, and it 
 became necessary for this daughter, presumably better 
 able to work than were her weaker sisters, to improve 
 the opportunity for employment which the factory 
 presented, and for which, perhaps, the change had 
 been made. She says : " We were at this time very, 
 very poor, and did not know on one day what we 
 should eat the next, otherwise I should not have been 
 placed at such hard work. My parents, however, ju- 
 diciously allowed me to spend half my wages (the 
 whole was one dollar and twenty-five cents per week) 
 as I thought proper ; and in this way, with numerous 
 incentives to economy, I first learned the use of 
 money." Penury is a severe master, yet its discipline 
 in this case, beginning so early, may have wrought 
 in her the element of thrift that soon began to appear. 
 
 The work given to girls, in the woolen-mills of 
 fifty years ago, was the splicing of rolls; a monoto- 
 nous work, devoid of interest, requiring fingers and 
 not brains. And while it was satisfactory to those 
 whose thoughts would not rise above their wages, it 
 was drudgery to her, except as her mind was occupied 
 with the pleasant thought that she was acting loyally 
 toward those she loved, or with other thoughts equally 
 elevating. As servile toil it was debilitating ; and she 
 testifies that during the first summer her principal re- 
 membrances were of " noise and filth, bleeding hands 
 
A MEMORIAL. 19 
 
 and aching feet, and a very sad heart." She was too 
 delicate physically, and of too fine a mould mentally 
 and morally, to be insensible to the racket or in com- 
 fortable harmony with her surroundings. 
 
 And yet there was some compensation in the case ; 
 chiefly in the affluence of her own soul, which, even at 
 that early day, rose and regaled itself in the higher 
 sphere of thought and feeling. She could be superior 
 to her work without despising or neglecting it. She 
 could " mind her work," there was so little to be 
 "minded," and still have the use of her faculties for 
 such thinking as was congenial to her. However, 
 to rise above weariness and dejection in such a place 
 was not easy for a young girl who, like the flowers 
 she so much loved, required the open air and genial 
 sun. 
 
 The society in the factory, though not absolutely 
 bad, was not so favorable to her character as the nar- 
 row circumstances of her poverty-stricken home. She 
 says : " The girls were, most of them, great novel- 
 readers, and they used to lend their novels to me, 
 first exacting a promise that I would not tell my 
 mother and sister." The novels of that day which 
 were found in the small circulating libraries were 
 mostly of one cast : consisting of exaggerated exhibi- 
 tions of love, disasters or successes, and very natur- 
 ally and properly were considered corrupting in their 
 tendencies. The very term "novel" was felt to be 
 synonymous with corruption, and the young who in- 
 dulged in them secreted them from their parents. 
 
 The use of the imagination in alleviating the ex- 
 perience of rough realities in life is illustrated in this 
 
20 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 case. Emily says : " When I had finished one (novel), 
 I used to carry out the story, and imagine my favor- 
 ite character going on, on — but it always would end 
 in death. Of what avail, then, was the beauty? Of 
 what use the wealth and honor? At other times, 
 while at my work, I used to make a heroine of myself. 
 My uncle Jonathan (who was lost twenty years before 
 while on a voyage to India) would come home and 
 make me an heiress ; or my face, which people used 
 sometimes to praise, would become so beautiful as to 
 bewitch the whole world; or I should be a brilliant 
 poetess (my verses were greatly admired by my 
 brothers and sisters), and my name would be famous 
 while the world stood." 
 
 This girlish fancy was not only a relieving trait 
 in her hard life, giving lightness to an otherwise heavy 
 heart, but it likewise contained a foregleam of what 
 she actually would be. Hers was not the low appe- 
 tite for gross details in a story and the thrill that fol- 
 lows ; but, rather, a love for the realm of the imagina- 
 tion and a joy in peopling it with striking charac- 
 ters that should represent something true, beautiful, 
 and good. It was her mental "play-house" then, to 
 be enjoyed amid her toils ; it afterward became to her 
 a sphere of noble service. 
 
 The factory ran by water, but the severe weather 
 of that latitude often locked it in icy chains, and thus 
 made a cessation of work absolutely unavoidable. On 
 such occasions she aimed to occupy the " breathing 
 spells " in improving her education by the use of such 
 advantages as she had. Her journal states : " The ice 
 stopped the water-wheel, and the factory was closed 
 
A MEMORIAL. 21 
 
 for a few months. * * * * Entered the district 
 school, and, I believe, acquitted myself to the satisfac- 
 tion of everybody, my poor, sick sister especially. 
 She had taken great pains with my education while I 
 was at work in the factory, though, as we worked 
 twelve hours a day, and came home completely worn 
 out with fatigue, I was not a very promising subject." 
 A little later : — " The factory re-opened, and I left 
 school and returned to my old employment." 
 
 While Emily was yet quite young she came under 
 the almost exclusive care of her oldest sister, I^avinia. 
 The circumstance that led to this, added to intense 
 sisterly affection for her as a sweet, promising child, 
 was very sad, but also highly providential. Lavinia, a 
 young woman of remarkable natural endowments, was 
 brought to a bed of fatal illness, continuing perhaps 
 four years. With strong resolution she maintained her 
 place as the most responsible and serviceable daughter 
 in the family, after being confined to her room ; and 
 one of her self-imposed and most enjoyable trusts 
 was the guidance of little Emily. 
 
 With the hand of a mistress she taught the tiny 
 maiden to be "mistress of dust-brush and poker," 
 and she became the pet, nurse and companion of the 
 invalid. And when " certain rhyming propensities " 
 began to appear she took them in hand, selecting 
 subjects, checking excess, and warding off laughing 
 critics and evil prophets. She knew how not to 
 crush a child, and how to minister to one that had 
 " more ideas than language, and more feeling than 
 either." 
 
 " But it was in the matter of religious training that 
 
22 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 my sister made me most deeply her debtor," says 
 Emily in after years. " As her own religious charac- 
 ter developed and her faith strengthened, she set her- 
 self deliberately and earnestly to the task of enlighten- 
 ing my understanding and arousing my heart. She 
 may have had her hours of darkness and despond- 
 ency ; but I knew nothing of them, and always saw her 
 as a rejoicing, triumphant Christian." Her prayers at 
 midnight, for which she rose habitually, made a deep 
 impression on the " little satellite of a sister," who 
 strove to awake and to keep her sleepy eyes open 
 that she might hear them. " She opened the way to 
 Christ so simply and so clearly that my baby concep- 
 tions have been the teachers of my riper years." 
 
 The still hand and the silent voice continued a 
 formative power in Emily's life. The departed sister 
 seemed ever with her, a bright example of womanli- 
 ness, and whom to recall was to follow, as she fol- 
 lowed Christ, in matters of the greatest moment. 
 
 Emily's religious experience thus began early. 
 She states : " The first event of any importance which 
 I remember is the conversion of my sister L,avinia, 
 when I was about seven years of age. My little cot 
 was in her room ; and as she grew worse after her bap- 
 tism, the young members of the church were in the 
 habit of spending the night with her, partly in the 
 character of watchers, partly because of a unity of 
 interest and feeling. She and her visitors spent the 
 greater part of the night in conversation and prayer, 
 without any thought of disturbing so sound a sleeper 
 as I seemed to be. I was a silent, sometimes tearful, 
 listener when they talked ; and when they prayed I 
 
A MEMORIAL. 2$ 
 
 used to kneel down in my bed, and, with hands 
 clasped and heart uplifted, follow them through to the 
 end. I can not recall my exercises with any degree of 
 distinctness ; but I remember longing to go to heaven, 
 and be with Christ; some moments of ecstasy and 
 some of deep depression on account of my childish de- 
 linquencies. My sister used often to converse with me 
 on religious subjects ; and I remember on one occasion 
 her going to the next room and saying to my mother, 
 ' That child's talk is wonderful ! I believe if there is a 
 Christian in the world she is one .' For a moment I 
 felt a deep thrill of joy, and then I became alarmed lest 
 I should have deceived them. The effect was to make 
 me reserved and cautious." 
 
 Her memoranda date her conversion at about this 
 time ; yet the current of the new life seemed to disap- 
 pear beneath the sands, for the way was desert. For 
 the most part she was destitute of the atmosphere and 
 the attentions that such a delicate nature as hers re- 
 quires in order to its blossoming and abundant fruitage. 
 The only direct and effective influence noticeable was 
 the reflective power of her sister Lavinia's mind as she 
 neared the glorified state. She was fond of her, and 
 was affected by her conversations and fineness of spirit. 
 On one occasion, when the carding machine broke and 
 she had an afternoon to herself, she spent all her little 
 stock of money in hiring a horse and wagon to take 
 " poor I^avinia out driving." She says : — "We spread a 
 buffalo robe on a pretty, dry knoll, and father carried 
 her to it in his arms. I shall never forget how happy she 
 was, nor how Kate and I almost buried her in violets 
 and other wild spring flowers. It was the last time 
 that she ever went out." 
 
24 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 Again : This was the day of poor Lavinia's death (June 
 23, 1829). They released me from the factory four days 
 on this occasion, and O, how long they seemed to me ! 
 The first day she was in great agony, and I crept as much 
 out of the way as I could, and scarcely moved. The next 
 day she rallied, and took some notice of me ; but the wom- 
 en (very many neighbors had come in) appeared just as 
 busy and anxious as ever, and mother wept incessantly. 
 Everything appeared strange and unnatural about the 
 house, and I thought it must be unpleasant for her. She 
 kissed me and told me I must be a good girl; but her 
 voice sounded hollow and her lips were cold. I longed to 
 do something for her, and remembering her extreme fond- 
 ness for flowers, I went to a neighbor's and begged an 
 apron full of roses. When I returned the house was still 
 as death. I entered her room ; they were kneeling around 
 her bed, and no one took any notice of me. In a moment, 
 however, she beckoned to me with her finger, and when I 
 put the flowers on her bed she smiled. She tried again to 
 turn her eye upon me, but it would not obey her will. 
 She tried to speak, but her lips gave no sound. She lay 
 quietly a few moments, then suddenly exclaimed, ' Glory, 
 glory! my Father! Jesus! 'and never breathed again. 
 She was buried at Eaton, being a member of the church 
 there. 
 
 I/ate in the same year the family made another 
 change, on which hinged some new developments in 
 Emily's life. It was a removal to a farm in the vicin- 
 ity of Morrisville, the county seat. Here they had 
 " plenty of plain food," but suffered greatly from cold. 
 "The house was large and unfinished," she says, " and 
 the snow sometimes drifted into it in heaps. We were 
 unable to repair it, and the owner was unwilling. 
 Father was absent nearly all the time distributing 
 
A MEMORIAL. 25 
 
 newspapers ; and the severity of the winter so affected 
 his health that he could do but little when he was at 
 home. Mother, Harriet and I were frequently com- 
 pelled to go out into the fields and dig broken wood 
 out of the snow, to keep ourselves from freezing." 
 
 She was now about fourteen years of age, and 
 though she " went to the district school as much as 
 she could," circumstances were adverse to her devel- 
 opment, except for the fact that she was one whose 
 genius for advancement could not easily be repressed. 
 The spiritual side of her life, not less than the mental, 
 engaged her attention as opportunity for its improve- 
 ment was presented; and now such an opportunity 
 was at hand. And we can not do better than to intro- 
 duce some extracts from her own writing, showing her 
 experience ; for while they reveal the genuineness of 
 her exercises, the peculiarities of the narration give to 
 it some added relish. It was the first of the year 1830. 
 
 There was a revival of religion among the Methodists 
 in the immediate neighborhood, and one evening, at a 
 meeting, those who wished the prayers of Christians were 
 requested to rise. It was something new to me, and I 
 trembled so that I shook the seat, and attracted considera- 
 ble attention. A girl near me whispered that I had better 
 arise — she was sure she would if she felt as I did ; and a 
 class-leader came and took me by the hand, so that I suc- 
 ceeded in getting upon my feet. After this I attended all 
 the 'class-meetings, and thought it a great favor to get 
 talked with and prayed for. 
 
 A "three days' meeting" was commenced by the Bap- 
 tist church of Morrisville and we all attended. The revi- 
 val among the Methodists had previously prepared our 
 minds, and Harriet, especially, was deeply affected. This 
 
2 6 EMIIyY C. JUDSON. 
 
 meeting was followed by a similar one in the Presbyterian 
 church, not one hour of which was lost to Harriet and my- 
 self. A great many young persons were added to both 
 churches ; among the most joyful of whom was my sister 
 Harriet. They baptized her, while I looked on almost 
 broken-hearted. We joined two weekly Bible classes at 
 the village (a mile distant), and attended all the meetings 
 we could hear of, walking when father was away. When 
 he was at home, though ever so much fatigued and ill, he 
 was too happy to see us interested in religious things not 
 to go with us. I recollect feeling myself very heart-heavy, 
 because the revival had passed without my being convert- 
 ed. I grew mopish and absent-minded, but still I did not 
 relax my efforts. Indeed, I believe my solemn little face 
 was almost ludicrously familiar to worshipers of every de- 
 nomination, for I remember a Presbyterian once saying to 
 me, as I was leaving the chapel, after having, as usual, 
 asked prayers : " What ! this little girl not converted yet ! 
 How do you suppose we can waste any more time in pray- 
 ing for you?" 
 
 In the spring Emily commenced taking lessons 
 in rhetoric and natural philosophy ; also in English 
 composition, from a lady who " had read novels till her 
 head was nearly turned," and, what was much worse, 
 had imbibed infidel sentiments, and was quite forward 
 to introduce the prominent authorities to the youth 
 under her instruction. Emily was much injured by 
 her sentiments, and felt her confidence in the Bible 
 weakening and her religious impressions fading. This 
 woman " was a great admirer of the misanthropic school 
 of poetry ; Byron, especially, she was always repeating, 
 and used actually to rave over his Manfred. When 
 she mounted her stilts I always trembled," she con- 
 
A MEMORIAL. 27 
 
 tinues, "for though fond of being with her, I still feared 
 for her." 
 
 The seeming wisdom and affection of the person 
 made the snare more alluring to one of Emily's taste 
 and talent, and she was almost drawn into it. Only by 
 maintaining her devotional habits did she escape. This 
 constancy, with faithful attendance upon public wor- 
 ship and continuance in the Sunday school and Bible 
 class, was both an assurance of her safety and an evi- 
 dence that she had actually found the refuge in God and 
 loved it well. The partial paralysis produced by her 
 teacher's infidelity was more than counter-balanced by 
 supplies of Divine Grace. 
 
28 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 III. 
 
 (Bphemeva—HOME and health. 
 
 So in the Temple of the Ages, builded 
 Out of men's lives, it comes to every one 
 
 Some day to find there is no work so noble 
 As that which love hath done. 
 
 CARI.OTTA PERRY. 
 
 O happy earth ! O home so well beloved ! 
 What recompense have we, from thee removed ? 
 One hope we have that overtops the whole — 
 The hope of finding every vanished soul 
 We love and long for daily, and for this 
 Gladly we turn from thee and all thy bliss, 
 Even at thy loveliest, when the days are long, 
 And little birds break out in rippling song. 
 
 Ceua ThaxTEr — " Compensation" 
 
 AFTER a year on the farm the Chubbucks removed 
 ■ into the village of Morrisville. Failure at farm- 
 ing, though not surprising, affected domestic affairs 
 quite seriously, and again turned Emily to servile labor 
 away from home. The family took a little old house 
 on the outskirts of the place, which, she says, was " the 
 poorest shelter we ever had, with only two rooms on 
 the lower floor, and a loft, to which we ascended by 
 means of a ladder. We were not discouraged, how- 
 ever, but managed to make the house a little genteel, 
 as well as tidy. Harriet and I used a turn-up bedstead, 
 
A MEMORIAL. 29 
 
 surrounded by pretty chintz curtains, and we made a 
 parlor and dining-room of the room by day." And 
 thus having compelled grim Penury to yield something 
 agreeable, the children sought ways for earning pit- 
 tances to keep up the family. Some went to school, 
 but most of them to some manual employment. Har- 
 riet, who " had a knack at twisting ribbons and fitting 
 dresses," took in sewing; while Emily " got constant 
 employment of a little Scotch weaver and thread- 
 maker, at twisting thread." 
 
 In a few months a new academy opened in the vil- 
 lage and Emily became a pupil ; but she was still held 
 for a " tale " of work. "As soon as I came home at night,'' 
 she says, " I used to sit down to sew with Harriet; and 
 it was a rule never to lay the work aside until, accord- 
 ing to our estimation, I had earned enough to clear the 
 expenses of the day — tuition, clothing, food, etc." 
 
 After the first term of school closed she lost no 
 time in going again into the employ of the thread- 
 maker. Here, too, fingers were required and the mind 
 left free; and there she stood, solitary, all day long, 
 turning a little crank, and entertaining herself with 
 whatever occurred to the mind. The religious ele- 
 ment being uppermost in her being she readily turned 
 to the sentiments and books of the skeptical teacher ; 
 and she felt that she must have satisfaction in regard 
 to them. She puzzled her friends with arguments that 
 showed wrong tendencies ; drew the "Age of Reason " 
 from the town library and pored over it secretly, taking 
 notes. Her father discovered her notes and, pale and 
 trembling, showed them to her ; but she quieted his 
 mind as to the consequences. 
 
30 EMII.Y C. JUDSON. 
 
 Another year passes and the family makes another 
 change, to avoid suffering in the approaching winter. 
 This time a nice house was selected in a pleasant part 
 of the village, with a view to taking academy boarders. 
 A great number of boarders came, causing a great deal 
 of work. Emily again went to school, but she was 
 obliged, as before, to help at home. She would arise on 
 Monday morning at two o'clock and do the washing for 
 the family and boarders before nine ; and on Thursday 
 evening would do the ironing. Saturday, helped to do 
 the baking, in the half-day in which there was no 
 school. Took sewing of a mantua-maker, to fill up bits 
 and ends of time. Her class-mates were older then 
 herself, with one exception, and having been free to 
 study all their lives they had an advantage which 
 Emily felt keenly ; and in order to keep up with them 
 she robbed her sleeping hours, usually studying until 
 two o'clock in the morning, and then read French and 
 solved mathematical problems in her sleep. 
 
 Very naturally her health failed, and the question 
 arose as to what should be done with her. The mother 
 thought she might make millinery a lucrative business, 
 but she revolted. She was willing to do menial labor, 
 temporarily, in factory or thread-mill, but to devote her 
 life to making bonnets — this was something to which 
 the "divinity within" would not for an instant consent. 
 She was but fifteen years old, yet she had reached a 
 point where she must see her calling and decide for 
 herself. The readiest vocation to one inclined to books 
 was teaching, and this, then as ever, was a portal to 
 original literary pursuits. 
 
 But here was the old obstacle — pinching want at 
 
A MEMORIAL. 31 
 
 home, requiring her assistance ; with a felt need of bet- 
 ter qualification for teaching and inability to secure it. 
 Boarders had not proved profitable ; her father had lost 
 a mail-route by being underbid, and her health seemed 
 to be broken. Another year in school might kill her, 
 and she must think of something else. Her mother 
 spoke for a position for her at sewing, and as she was 
 expert with a needle she was able to make good terms. 
 But there was a revolt in her inmost being at the 
 thought, not of working with her hands but of being 
 severed from intellectual relations and pursuits. She 
 " cried all night.'' 
 
 Before resuming the thread of her religious experi- 
 ence, the reader must see her in the interesting role of 
 teacher — " school ma'am." It will thus be learned 
 what sort of "stuff" she was made of, and how to 
 account, in part, for the brilliant success she achieved. 
 
 It was not a trifling matter half a century ago for 
 a sensitive girl of fifteen to undertake the work of 
 teaching, particularly in the country. It was trying 
 to determine upon this occupation without qualified 
 friends to advise, and more so to hold it successfully 
 with few or none to sympathize. The people lived in 
 a rude way, and the teacher could not choose a home 
 from among them, but must board with all, subject to 
 weekly change and inequality of distances from her 
 work. There were scarcely any entertainments in 
 these homes, either intellectual or social, and in many 
 cases she must be completely engulfed in family af- 
 fairs, with no enjoyment except such as comes from 
 hearing stories of pioneer life, at evening time, with 
 the plucking of a few roses in the morning and walking 
 
32 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 back to school. The school-houses were constructed 
 as cheaply as possible, with no provision for persons 
 of taste, if, indeed, there was any thought for health — 
 for the lungs and spines of small or great. The loca- 
 tion must be central, even if in the middle of a farm, 
 and such a thing as grading, planting trees, or even 
 making doorsteps was scarcely contemplated. 
 
 Emily Chubbuck was determined to earn the means 
 with which to defray at least her share of the family's 
 expenses, and to do so by some kind of intellectual 
 effort. She had . taken fire from L,avinia's ambitious 
 nature. It would be a hardship at best, and the school 
 was the right arena, as she believed, for one of her 
 years and limited qualifications. People had not, as 
 yet, however, ceased to estimate fitness to " keep 
 school" as very largely physical; because the rustics 
 were to be " kept " as well as taught. But, not to an- 
 ticipate, the following items from her own inimitable 
 account best depict her initiation into her new vocation, 
 and some of her subsequent experiences. Beginning 
 April 6, 1832, when she was less than fifteen, her diary 
 states : 
 
 " Went to Mr. B., my academy teacher, and, after 
 some awkward hesitation, ventured to ask if he thought 
 me capable of teaching school. ' Yes,' said he, ' but 
 you are not half big enough.' He, however, gave me 
 a recommendation and promised to keep the matter 
 secret. 
 
 * * * " Told mother I wanted to make the 
 F — 's a visit, which she was pleased to hear, as they 
 lived on a farm, and she thought a little change would 
 do me good. 
 
A MEMORIAL. 33 
 
 * * * " Father carried me to the F — 's before 
 breakfast ; a drive of about two miles. As soon as he 
 had left me I inquired if their school was engaged. It 
 was ; but the J. district had not yet obtained a teacher, 
 they thought. I took a short cut across the lots, and 
 soon stood trembling in the presence of Mr. J. He 
 was a raw-boned, red-haired, sharp-looking man, in 
 cowhide shoes and red flannel shirt. ' Is your school 
 engaged? ' I timidly inquired. He turned his keen, gray 
 eye upon me, measuring me deliberately from head to 
 foot, while I stood as tall as possible. I saw at once 
 that it was not engaged, and that I stood a very poor 
 chance of getting it. He asked several questions ; 
 whistled when I told him my age ; said the school 
 was a very difficult one, and finally promised to con- 
 sult the other trustees and let me know in a week or 
 two. I saw what it all meant, and went away morti- 
 fied and heavy-hearted. As soon as I gained the 
 woods I sat down and sobbed outright. This re- 
 lieved me, and after a little while I stood upon my feet 
 again, with dry eyes and a tolerably courageous heart. 
 I went back, though with great shamefacedness, to 
 Mr. J., and inquired the way across the woods to Mr. 
 F.'s, which I reached soon after sunset. Here I found 
 my old friend, C. F. (the skeptical teacher), and others 
 of the family, very glad to welcome me ; and without 
 stating my errand I went to bed, too tired and anx- 
 ious to be companionable. 
 
 * * * " Told C. F. my errand, and she at once 
 volunteered to go to the trustees with me and do 
 what she could in my behalf. When we arrived at 
 Mr. D.'s she spoke of the Morrisville Academy, in- 
 
34 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 quired if they knew the principal, Mr. B , and 
 
 then presented my recommendation, which I had not 
 ventured to show the day before. Mr. D. was pleased ; 
 said he had heard of me, and did not know of any one 
 whom he should like so well for a teacher. He hoped 
 his colleagues had engaged no one, but did not know, 
 as Mr. B. was the acting tftpstee. To Mr. B.'s we 
 went, a frank, happy-looks >4' young farmer, with a 
 troop of children about him, and made known our 
 errand. ' Why, the scholars will be bigger than their 
 teacher,' was his first remark. 'Here, An't, stand up 
 by the school-ma'am and see which is the tallest; 
 An't is the blackest, at any rate,' he added, laughing. 
 He would not make any definite engagement with me, 
 but said I stood as fair a chance as anybody, and he 
 would come to the village next week and settle the 
 matter. ' You have got it,' said C. as soon as we were 
 out of the house. I was not so sanguine, but I was 
 too far from home to think of going further, and so I 
 had nothing to do but to wait. 
 
 * * * " Left the F.'s, and without seeing the 
 F — 's again, walked home, a distance of three miles 
 and a half. 
 
 * * * " M r b. made his appearance, and an- 
 nounced to mother (much to her surprise and a little 
 to her embarrassment) that he had come to engage her 
 daughter to teach school. We were told that they 
 never paid over six shillings (seventy-five cents) a 
 week, besides boarding; and though I could earn as 
 much with the milliner, and far more at twisting 
 thread, we were all very happy in the arrangement. 
 Mother had intended putting me with Miss B. only for 
 
A MEMORIAL. 35 
 
 want of something better, and now she was highly 
 pleased, particularly with the ability I had shown to 
 help myself. 
 
 - * * * "On the first Monday in May father took 
 me in his wagon to Nelson Corners. The school- 
 house was a little brown building on the corner, all 
 newly cleaned and in good repair. About twenty 
 children came, some clean, some pretty, some ugly, and 
 all shy and noisy. I got through the day tolerably 
 well, and after school went to Mr. B.'s. I was to 
 "board round," and so took my first week with the 
 leading trustee. 
 
 " The first evening at Mr. B.'s passed off tolerably 
 well ; but I was very timid and not very fond of visit- 
 ing, and I had neglected to provide myself with either 
 work or books. The B.'s were not a reading people ; 
 their whole library comprised only a Bible and a Meth- 
 odist hymn-book, and there was not a newspaper about 
 the house. I had been trained in habits of the sever- 
 est industry, and before the end of the week was com- 
 pletely miserable. I had no congenial society, nothing 
 to do, and I had intended, when I left home, to be ab- 
 sent six weeks. I was downright homesick, and after 
 the third day could neither eat rior sleep. On Satur- 
 day I closed my school at noon, and, without taking 
 leave of the B.'s, hurried away over the hills to Morris- 
 ville. I think there was no happier being on earth 
 than I when I bounded into the old dining-room ; and 
 I wept and laughed together all the evening. On 
 Monday morning father carried me back in his wagon, 
 and after that he came for me regularly every Satur- 
 day night, and left me at the school-house Monday 
 .morning." 
 
36 EMII,Y C. JUDSON. 
 
 After the usual term of three months the school 
 closed, and Emily returned home, feeling that though 
 she had filled her engagement creditably, she had been 
 much less industrious than in former periods; mean- 
 ing, doubtless, that not to hazard health and life in a 
 determined war with want was to be comparatively 
 idle. Her lack of advantages out of school hours was, 
 perhaps, the cause of some inactivity. Yet there were 
 other elements in her being than the intellectual, and 
 she had other thoughts than those on pedagogy. 
 
 During the year just reviewed she had a constant 
 experience with religion and a view of death, and was 
 much affected thereby. From the time of the revivals 
 in Morrisville she had been under the discipline of the 
 Spirit and was a pliant subject. 
 
 Prominent among the influences that had moulded 
 the girl-life of Emily were the conversion and death of 
 the two sisters already mentioned, and some circum- 
 stances related thereto. The Chubbuck home, so low- 
 ly, had ever been " the resort of very pious people, and 
 a favorite home for Hamilton students " ; and it was 
 more so after the daughters became Christians. Emily 
 was permanently impressed by several, whose society 
 was very improving. "We were," she says, "also well 
 supplied with choice books, a luxury which, even 
 in our deepest poverty, we never denied ourselves; 
 for we had been taught from our cradles to consider 
 knowledge, next after religion, the most desirable 
 thing, and were never allowed to associate with igno- 
 rant and vulgar children." 
 
 Her sisters charmed her by their personal and 
 Christian traits, and she had no inclination to look 
 
A MEMORIAL. 37 
 
 elsewhere for good society. The bond of sympathy in 
 her humble home was of the purest and strongest type; 
 rendered so by the precious power of the Christian re- 
 ligion. Her sister Harriet, six years her senior, "was 
 very beautiful in person and fascinating in manners, 
 and for a time was the pride of the family. After her 
 conversion, less than a year previous to her death, her 
 natural gayety was to a great extent subdued ; and so 
 beloved had she rendered herself that her death, which 
 was sudden, threw a gloom over the whole communi- 
 ty, and the funeral services were disturbed by sob- 
 bings from different parts of the house." 
 
 This sister was greatly exercised in reference to the 
 subject of missions and consecrated herself solemnly to 
 this cause — " had made a vow which nothing but death 
 could break." This fact she had in strict confidence 
 told to Emily, and it must have greatly influenced her 
 mind. And at about the same time, while splicing 
 rolls in the factory, she had received an impulse from 
 another source, described by herself as follows : 
 
 One day I took up a little, dingy, coarse newspaper — 
 the Baptist Register in its infancy — and my eye fell on the 
 words : " Little Maria lies by the side of her fond mother." 
 I had read about the missionaries, and my sister had told 
 me respecting them ; I knew, therefore, at once, that the 
 letter was from Mr. Judson, and that his little daughter 
 was dead. How I pitied his loneliness ! And then a new 
 train of thought sprung up, and my mind expanded to a 
 new kind of glory. " No," thought I, " though the Burmans 
 should kill him, I will not pity him ; and I — yes, I will be 
 a missionary." After this I had my romantic dreams of 
 mission life ; but they were of a different cast — of suffering 
 
38 EMII/V C. JUDSON. 
 
 and toil and pain ; and though they, like the others, ended 
 in death, somehow death in such an employment came 
 pleasantly. I read the " Pilgrim's Progress," and thought 
 of the golden city ; then I read the Bible more, and novels 
 less. 
 
 Years after the above occurrence she said to an in- 
 timate friend : " I have felt ever since I read the mem- 
 oir of Ann H. Judson, when I was a small child, 
 that I must become a missionary. I fear it is but a 
 childish fancy, and am making every effort to banish it 
 from my mind; yet the more I seek to divert my 
 thoughts from it, the more unhappy I am." Is there 
 the least unnaturalness in this experience ? — anything 
 in the mode of receiving a missionary conviction that 
 has not been common to those who have laid them- 
 selves on the altar of missions ? The fall of a soldier 
 on the field of missions has acted quickly and power- 
 fully, ofttimes, on the mind of such as were inquiring, 
 " L,ord, what wilt thou have me to do ? " and more than 
 once been the immediate means of decision in favor 
 of the foreign work. The very danger and suffer- 
 ings experienced have kindled sympathy and caused 
 recruits to fill the ranks. Even the sentiment of ro- 
 mance, in such as have at first been influenced by it, 
 has given way to a healthful spirit of obligation and 
 of consecration, instead of being an obstacle to it. 
 Awakening in any manner brings inquiry, and inquiry 
 leads to impressions of duty. 
 
 That Emily was not idly dreaming, and that she 
 had views of missionary work that were far from be- 
 ing visionary, is evident from the fact that she early 
 began to qualify herself for it, and without guide or in- 
 
A MEMORIAL. 39 
 
 structor. While standing alone in the thread-maker's 
 house, turning a little crank, she improved the soli- 
 tude and relieved the dull monotony by reflecting 
 upon the books she had been taught by the infidel 
 teacher to read. " If I was to be a missionary," she re- 
 flected, " which vocation I had never lost sight of, I 
 must understand how to refute all those infidel argu- 
 ments, and I now set about it with great earnestness." 
 While it was somewhat presumptuous for such a young 
 Christian, one who had not yet sought the support of 
 the church by uniting with it, to enter the atmosphere 
 of infidelity and steep her untrained mind in the argu- 
 ments of such lights as Voltaire, Rousseau, and others, 
 she, nevertheless, showed her sense of the need of 
 proper preparation for strife with the powers of dark- 
 ness. . Being apt and quick to learn, it is not improb- 
 able that she made too much headway to justify the 
 reader in smiling at her youthful venture. 
 
 A year later, after her first school was closed, she 
 had attained a girlish popularity which proved some- 
 what detrimental to her piety. She was not consci- 
 entious in the discharge of her religious duties, and be- 
 gan to like attention and praise. She had been under 
 the influence of the lady teacher mentioned, and was 
 intimate with some families of gay young people. Be- 
 sides, she gives no intimation of having enjoyed min- 
 isterial or other religious watchcare and counsel. 
 
 Still later by a few months she was again pursuing 
 her studies in the Academy, though, on account of her 
 attention to her personal appearance, she did not ad- 
 vance as rapidly as before. A dancing epidemic broke 
 out, and Emily easily became one of its victims. Then 
 
40 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 there followed a prospect of dissension and division 
 in the family, on account of her determination to learn 
 to dance. But when she saw that the matter was like- 
 ly to prove a serious grievance to her parents she 
 dropped it, and forever. 
 
 She was now in her sixteenth year. Independence 
 of mind had developed quite rapidly, and she even 
 thought, as she had her own fortune to make, that she 
 ought to obtain a boarding-place and follow her own 
 plans ; but her parents persuaded her to desist from 
 doing "so wild a thing." In her seventeenth and 
 eighteenth years she taught in Morrisville and Smith- 
 field. And meantime there was a resumption of her 
 religious thoughts and a renewal of early impressions, 
 with most important results. Her hope now became 
 a joyful one, and a purpose was formed in her heart to 
 consecrate her life to the service of the Lord. 
 
A MEMORIAL. 4 1 
 
 IV. 
 
 !£Ww 3Lr«WS— SCHOOLING, "TRIPPINGS." 
 
 Too much of joy is sorrowful, 
 
 So cares must needs abound ; 
 The vine that bears too many flowers 
 
 Will trail upon the ground. 
 
 AucE Carey. 
 
 O feeble, mighty human hand! 
 
 O fragile, dauntless human heart; 
 The universe holds nothing planned 
 
 With such sublime, transcendent art. 
 
 HEtEN Hunt Jackson. 
 
 TN the summer of 1834, her seventeenth year, she of- 
 ■*- fered herself to the Baptist church at- Morrisville 
 and was accepted. Rev. William Dean, D. D., a native 
 of that place and familiar with the youth of the com- 
 munity, as a school-teacher, was at this time serving 
 the church and awaiting his departure as missionary 
 to China. He says : " Before leaving the country I 
 had occasion to baptize some dozen or fifteen young 
 persons in my native town, and Emily Chubbuck was 
 among the number. In conversation, during her se- 
 rious impressions, she was not communicative, but in 
 answer to questions gave clear views of sin and her 
 sole trust in the atoning sacrifice of Christ for salva- 
 tion. In relating her experience before the church 
 she discovered her accustomed coy manner, but gave 
 
42 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 satisfactory proof that she had been renewed by the 
 spirit of God." 
 
 And now that she was fully the Lord's, her sense 
 of duty to His cause grew intense. She became sensi- 
 tively alive to the condition of the world He came to 
 redeem. In her tenth year she had " romantic dreams 
 of mission life," but these had disappeared like the 
 baseless fabric of a vision and she now stood on a foot- 
 ing of loyalty to Jesus Christ. The feeling of desti- 
 nation to be a missionary had changed from fancy to 
 conviction, yet at no time had it left her. 
 
 In the years immediately following, her literary as- 
 pirations were developing and coming into notice. 
 She had formed the purpose, partly from motives of 
 necessity, to earn the means for the comfort of her 
 parents and the education of the younger children, 
 and had planned the method — the use of her pen. 
 Mark, then, the genuineness of the missionary con- 
 viction, which abode with her while the desire to re- 
 alize her plans was struggling for supremacy and when 
 the incentives to a missionary career had few advo- 
 cates. For the most part her conflicting emotions 
 were hidden from public view. Yet "she never heard 
 a sermon preached, or opened her Bible to read, with- 
 out feeling condemned, conscious that her Savior's 
 requirements were in direct antagonism to her cher- 
 ished purposes." 
 
 When about twenty years of age her feelings be- 
 came so strong as to require relief — the relief that 
 comes by means of free communication with an- 
 other on the subject. She sought the leading min- 
 ister of the vicinity, one in whom she could confide 
 
A MEMORIAL. 43 
 
 as a friend, and whose judgment she had the high- 
 est reason to regard — the Rev. Nathaniel Kendrick, D. 
 D., pastor in Eaton and theological professor at Hamil- 
 ton. She could not go to him in person, so sensitive 
 and diffident was she, and she addressed him by letter. 
 The reply was characteristic of the times, when the 
 way was dark, and of a sage divine looking from his 
 retreat upon a delicate young woman who proposed 
 to go into the mazes of pagan darkness to teach the 
 Gospel. It was a recommendation to await the open- 
 ings of Providence ; a kind of advice that was even 
 more convenient and plausible then than the same is 
 now, but which generally serves in place of an adverse 
 opinion. 
 
 Such advice, coming from a source that com- 
 manded her highest respect, had the effect it was cal- 
 culated to have ; it quieted her feelings for the time, 
 yet without abating her conviction or desires as to the 
 missionary work. It enabled her to feel justified in 
 following the course upon which she had entered — to 
 pursue the calling of a teacher and to try her hand at 
 authorship ; and thus, if possible, to provide in part for 
 the support of the family. Her heart was specially set 
 upon the education of the younger children and the 
 purchase of a home for her parents. 
 
 That one in a family embracing two brothers older 
 than she and parents in good health, should take upon 
 herself such responsibility is evidence of want of confi- 
 dence in their management or capacity. It also shows 
 a full sense of the situation, beyond her years, with a 
 very fine filial and sisterly affection. It does more : 
 it proves that there were in her composition the ele- 
 
44 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 ments that heroines are made of, and that God had 
 raised her up for an important occasion. Holding her 
 back from another cherished purpose, for the time be- 
 ing, enabled her to show that there are various spheres 
 for heroines, and that fidelity in one is the best evi- 
 dence of fitness for another and higher. 
 
 A still further lesson derived from the trying or- 
 deal of this time is that of the possibility of becoming 
 equal to emergencies, rising superior to circumstances 
 and doing something noble in life. That the youngest 
 of the children (save one) should undertake to meet, 
 in large part, the expenses of a poor family, and she in 
 such delicate health much of the time as to compel oc- 
 casional relinquishment of her work, is something in 
 the line of energy for American youth to consider. 
 And when is added to this heavy task the project of 
 cultivating her gifts in a special way, and of making 
 the avails of such culture meet the demands for food 
 and shelter, the heroine stands forth an object of admi- 
 ration. 
 
 Emily had already passed from girlhood to young 
 womanhood, having reached her eighteenth year. 
 Two things had become firmly impressed on her mind: 
 that she must work for "dear life," her own and her 
 parents' living, and that teaching was the form of 
 labor to be permanently adopted. She had chosen 
 this calling as preferable to an}' other except that of a 
 missionary, and she could pursue it and still " wait for 
 the openings of Providence." Her choice and her des- 
 tiny seem to have been in harmony, and she faced the 
 future with both a serious and a satisfied mind. 
 
 She taught in Smithfield, an adjoining town on the 
 
A MEMORIAL. 45 
 
 north, in a private family, where her first school was 
 located, and also in Morrisville ; all the while being in 
 feeble health. As to experiences immediately subse- 
 quent, Dr. A. C. Kendrick, in the charming "Life and 
 Letters of Emily C. Judson," remarks : 
 
 During the summer of 1837 Emily had charge of a 
 school in Brookfield, where she presided over about an 
 hundred pupils. Repairing thence almost immediately to 
 Syracuse, she taught in this place until the following April. 
 There seems to have been need of her utmost exertions. 
 " Many family troubles during this winter "—thus runs her 
 brief record — " failure in stage-coach business, the family 
 removed to Hamilton, but returned in the spring ; home 
 lost, horses, coaches, etc., seized and sold at auction." Such 
 emergencies proved the genuine gold in Emily's character. 
 When all seemed crashing round her she stood and strug- 
 gled with unabated courage, cheered the desponding spirits 
 of her parents, aided with hand and counsel at home when 
 aid was possible, and by her constant labors in school-teach- 
 ing did all in her power to relieve the heavy burdens of 
 the family. Her self-sacrificing generosity overlooked en- 
 tirely her individual comfort. Her unrelaxed effort was 
 expended upon those to whom she owed her life, and whose 
 failing health and partially broken spirit caused them to 
 lean largely upon her. Meantime her acknowledged abili- 
 ty as a teacher was securing an increased demand for her 
 services in that calling. 
 
 There was no discharge from the war in which she 
 had enlisted, and the satisfaction derived from the no- 
 bility of the cause in which her heroic struggles were 
 put forth repaid her and caused her to love the serv- 
 ice. Honor for her parents was loyalty to the King; 
 and the more darkly the night set in about them, the 
 
46 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 more searchingly did her faithful arms reach for them. 
 Their fate was met by her free-will tribute of sacrifice 
 in a most marvelous union of the parents' trust with 
 the daughter's love. Experience in life usually con- 
 tinues about as it sets in; and the keen foresight of 
 Kmily Chubbuck settled down in this conviction. 
 She girded herself for a conflict with distress which 
 she knew that no other member of the family could 
 so successfully wage. And, being slender and frail in 
 body, she met the responsibility by the force of mind. 
 
 It was her aim to combine business and culture. 
 Teaching must be continued for the sake of the pay, . 
 though the maximum price was but " three dollars per 
 week and board." Then her mental life must be en- 
 larged ; a necessity to her as teacher, and as an aspir- 
 ant for the field of letters. She took the public school 
 at Hamilton, and while there occupied her evenings in 
 studying Greek, under a student from the Theological 
 Seminary. She next opened a school at Morrisville, 
 and there took private lessons in mathematics ; a sci- 
 ence in which she seemed expert when quite young. 
 
 Along with this work her fancy played, or labored 
 in disguise. Her mind, while practical, was also imag- 
 inative, and it would, therefore, work with books or 
 without them, and on almost any occasion or any- 
 where. Her moods seem never to have repressed her 
 buoyant activity, nor weariness in school duties to 
 have overcome the impulse to originate something of 
 a literary character. Her early development embraced 
 the talent for writing. Without guide or sympathizer 
 she began to produce in prose and verse, and, like all 
 young writers, sought a medium in the village paper ; 
 
A MEMORIAL. 47 
 
 an accommodating medium wherever found, and pecul- 
 iarly accessible to home talent. The sensitive twinges 
 of the "beginner," and the pliant nature of the mag- 
 nate of the types, combined to form a tender chapter 
 in village life in Emily's day. 
 
 She was now in her twenty-third year, and it could 
 but be expected that her trials would show their natu- 
 ral effects and Time its inevitable wear, for the former 
 began early and the latter does no relenting. She 
 wrote a friend at this time : " The world has given me 
 some heavy brushes ; disappointment has cast a shad- 
 ow over my path ; expectation has been often marred 
 and hope withered ; the trials of life have distilled their 
 bitterness ; care has spread out its perplexities. * * 
 Emily is changed." At the same time she adds : 
 "All this has served to nerve up my spirits to 
 greater strength, and add iron to my nature." Neces- 
 sity for a resolute bearing prevented the heart giving 
 way, even in the most trying moments. She felt 
 "obliged to wear a smile to cheer her mother and 
 sister." 
 
 Miss Chubbuck returns to Prattsville, where, as lit- 
 tle Emily of eleven summers, already beclouded, she 
 had spliced rolls, with " aching feet and a very sad 
 heart." She takes a school there. As showing her 
 clear perception of the situation and the conscious dis- 
 agreement of her character with that of the scholars, 
 she wrote the above friend: " Behold me, then, at the 
 head of a little regiment of wild cats. Oh, don't men- 
 tion it, don't! I am as sick of my bargain as — (par- 
 don the comparison, but it will out) — any Benedict in 
 Christendom. I am duly constituted sovereign of a 
 
48 EMILY C. JITDSON. 
 
 company of fifty wild horses, ' which may not be 
 tamed.' Oh, Maria, Maria, pity me ! But the half has 
 not yet been told you." Here is the heroine again, 
 at the head of her "regiment," fighting for the preser- 
 vation of a humble hearth and for daily bread. 
 
 This school was almost ungovernable. The former 
 teacher had been dismissed — an experienced one, and 
 a married man— and it seemed to her to be well-nigh 
 hopeless to expect a reformation in it. She accord- 
 ingly broke down, after some three months, and re- 
 mained unoccupied for about six months, when a way 
 opened to her most auspiciously. Hers was a case, 
 one of a larger number in this dark world than the 
 average person discovers, in which merit meets its 
 recognition in an unexpected time and manner. The 
 patient performance of duty, fidelity in the "few 
 things," was the straight road to promotion, as it now 
 proved. 
 
 Miss Chubbuck had now reached the time and oc- 
 casion for a change of scene. The new thread be- 
 longed to the web of her mysterious life, yet she had 
 not discovered it. As it often occurs, it was left to 
 another to point it out. Her genius could not be hid 
 from the discerning, and such an one was a young 
 woman of her own village who was securing an educa- 
 tion at the Utica Female Seminary, a noted institution 
 of its time. This friend had spoken of the position 
 and promise of her associate to the principal of the 
 school and secured her sympathy. 
 
 In keeping with a method adopted sometimes, and 
 to a limited extent, Miss Chubbuck was admitted to 
 the full privileges of the school, under agreement to 
 
A MEMORIAL. 49 
 
 pay when she should have completed her course and 
 obtained the means by teaching. This was an incal- 
 culable advantage to her, and, after such serious strug- 
 gles, was fully appreciated. A Christian family, Mr. 
 and Mrs. Sheldon and daughters, were in charge of the 
 several departments, and they at once took a decided 
 interest in their brilliant pupil, while the daughters 
 formed an ardent attachment for her, which continued 
 through life. 
 
 With this special improvement in her opportunities 
 there still remained the inexorable realities beneath 
 the roof-tree of her real home, thirty miles away. The 
 members of the family became doubly dear to her 
 through her anxiety and efforts on their behalf. Her 
 heart was with them ever. And as she gained in men- 
 tal power, which was readily estimated by her compar- 
 ative standing in school, and was the more assured by 
 the ease with which she mastered difficult problems, 
 the suggestion of original writing occurred to her 
 again with renewed force. Putting the two together — 
 the love for her pen, and the needs at home — she 
 felt that she must enter the arena of authorship; 
 though, very likely, in a small way. She consulted 
 Miss Sheldon, and then, by letter, her friend, already 
 introduced, Mrs. Bates : " I have always shrunk from 
 doing anything in a public capacity, and that has added 
 a great deal to my school-teaching troubles. But, O, 
 necessity ! necessity ! Did you ever think of such a 
 thing as selling brains for money? And then, such 
 brains as mine. Do you think I could prepare for the 
 press a small volume of poems that would produce the 
 desired — I must speak it — cash ? * * * I some- 
 
5° EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 times think of home, and then I want to be with my 
 parents and dear Kate ; I sometimes think, too, of the 
 past — a few past years. O Maria, how did I live ?" 
 
 The second term she renewed her studies with such 
 substantial hope as to justify some plans for writing. 
 The publication of a volume of poems was abandoned, 
 and by the advice of Miss Sheldon she began to use 
 some time in writing other matter for the press. It 
 was now not a play of pen with types, but a serious 
 drive for dollars and cents ; though careful to prepare 
 nothing that would be objectionable to the most deli- 
 cate moral sense. Her first production was " Charles 
 L,inn ; or, How to observe the Golden Rule,"— a small 
 book for children, and a success in its way, flattering to 
 herself and her friends. 
 
 Miss Chubbuck, now an author, was before the pub- 
 lic to be praised or to be impaled, according as, not 
 merit only but charity or caprice might dictate. What 
 if the weight of popular expression should be adverse ? 
 What then would become of the sensitive fledgling, 
 who was just trying her wings, and what would be- 
 come of that home before which the wolf continually 
 lay? 
 
 The encouragement was quite gratifying, and the 
 more so in that the appearance of her book was fol- 
 lowed by an appointment as assistant instructor in the 
 department of composition in the Seminary. But it 
 was soon seen that she had undertaken too much. She 
 broke down. She writes to her sister : " This morning 
 I had a mammoth tooth extracted, and the rest are now 
 dancing right merrily in commemoration of the event ; 
 so you must not wonder if my ideas dance in unison. 
 Kate, you may be sick for aught I know — ' dreadful 
 
A MEMORIAL. 51 
 
 sick '; but scarce a particle of pity will selfishness allow 
 me for you, for know that I too am an invalid. I am 
 growing rich ' mighty fast,' I can assure you ; rich alike 
 in purse and brain, by — doing nothing. Do you not 
 envy me ? I wrote you that I could pay my way this 
 term, study French, draw, and be allowed the use ol 
 oil paints. Well, first I dropped oil painting — it was 
 too hard for me ; then I threw aside drawing to save 
 my nerves, and at last French was found quite too 
 much. Afterwards I wrote a little, but have of late 
 been obliged to abandon the pen entirely. What is to 
 become of me I do not know." Such is the strain of 
 the oppressed student, which, repeated along the years, 
 makes the whole indigent student-class kin. 
 
 Turning again to the motives that sustained the 
 exertions of this frail prodigy, we find her saying : 
 " Were I certain of the most unparalleled success, with- 
 out any other inducement than fame, I should lay down 
 my pen forever, or take it up only for my own amuse- 
 ment. Necessity at present urges ine to this exertion, 
 and when the necessity is past, then is the work past 
 also." 
 
 Only two weeks pass, after the above writing, and 
 she is nervously going over the list of her efforts and 
 of the various periodicals to which she is appealing for 
 space. How justly flattered by the prompt appearance 
 of a contribution to the famous Knickerbocker Maga- 
 zine! How chagrined by the non-appearance of other 
 productions in other monthlies ! Such is the experi- 
 ence of young writers, and Miss Chubbuck could not 
 be an exception, in an editor's choices, on the ground 
 of either poor health or " necessity." But " Charles 
 Ivinn " was an almost phenomenal success, and the 
 
52 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 heart that went pit-a-pat from fear, when the manu- 
 script was given to the printer, was now jubilant, as 
 fifty-one dollars came to her empty purse. 
 
 As with other authors, writing was work, not play. 
 The enjoyment of the pen was attended and followed 
 by a "throbbing head and tingling nerves." In com- 
 mon with many, perhaps the majority of the " Knights 
 of the quill," she had inspired moments, and these must 
 be used, at whatever cost. Then there was the never- 
 failing incentive, stronger than motives of self-preser- 
 vation — the case of necessity at "the loggery." So, 
 whether by noonday sun or midnight lamp, every par- 
 ticle of inspiration must be utilized. Dr. Kendrick 
 gives the following incident, as one of many : 
 
 " As Miss Sheldon was at one time passing through 
 the halls, near midnight, a light streaming from Emi- 
 ly's apartment attracted her attention, and, softly open- 
 ing the door, she stole in upon her vigils. Emily sat 
 in her night-dress, her papers lying outspread before 
 her, grasping with both hands her throbbing temples, 
 and pale as a marble statue. Miss Sheldon went to 
 her, whispered words of sympathy, and gently chided 
 her for robbing her system of its needed repose. 
 Emily's heart was already full, and now the fountain 
 of feeling overflowed in uncontrollable weeping. ' O, 
 Miss Sheldon,' she exclaimed, ' I must write ! I must 
 write! I must do what I can to aid my poor par- 
 ents.' " 
 
 Her hopefulness greatly increased upon the gener- 
 ous reception that her first book enjoyed, and now her 
 pen flew at the top of its speed. She also widened her 
 plans, sending for her sister Kate in order to give her 
 the advantages of the school. That snug sum that 
 
A MEMORIAL. 53 
 
 " Charles Linn " brought so promptly may have turned 
 her head. A piece upon which she relied was de- 
 clined, and she was dejected ; and Kate, instead of 
 being supported, had an invalid on her- hands for a 
 considerable time. 
 
 Miss Chubbuck ended her twenty-fifth year with a 
 womanly character fully formed, and with caresses and 
 honors thickening upon her. Several productions had 
 been accepted by different publishers, and, though times 
 were hard, hope ran high. She now contemplated the 
 procurement of a permanent home for her parents, and 
 in a few months she did so. Her biographer, in re- 
 ferring to this circumstance, says : 
 
 Miss Chubbuck spent the summer vacation with her 
 parents in Hamilton, and while there performed an act 
 which showed her readiness, in meeting the claims of duty, 
 to go to the utmost limit warranted by prudence. She pur- 
 chased for her parents the house and garden occupied by 
 them in the village, for four hundred dollars, the debt to be 
 discharged in four annual payments. It was an humble 
 home ; but as the precious fruit of a daughter's love it was 
 to them more than a palace ; and small as seems the sum 
 to the eye of wide-spreading wealth, who shall say that the 
 favor of Him who blessed the widow's mite did not rest 
 upon the offering ? She subsequently increased her in- 
 debtedness by nearly one-half the original sum in repair- 
 ing and enlarging the premises. Emily felt that she was 
 taking a step of some hazard, and calculating largely on 
 the " coinable " capacities of her brain ; but filial love could 
 not take counsel of cold-blooded prudence in such a case ; 
 and having indulged in about the only kind of luxury in 
 which she ever allowed herself, and furnished her aged 
 parents with a home, she went back to Utica with fresh 
 incentives to intellectual toil. 
 
54 BMII,Y C. JUDSON. 
 
 V. 
 &nth0V&ttip— A FRIEND IN NEED. 
 
 Nature creates merit and fortune brings it into play. 
 
 L,a Rochefoucauld. 
 
 Not in thy hand thy future life is hid, 
 
 But in His hand who rules the restless sea ; 
 
 Not in a " star " rests that supreme decree ; 
 
 But in His hand who guides that star amid 
 
 The hosts of -heaven. He hides thy future way, 
 
 But leads thee, step by step, from day to day. 
 
 E. H. KEEN. 
 
 A "SEMINARY magazine, such as is now regarded 
 - as a needed exponent of school-life and work, 
 was at this time "agitated" and brought into being, 
 with Miss Chubbuck as its editor. It ran its full course 
 in one year, and brought no cash to the needy mistress 
 of its columns. At the same time she had a valuable 
 experience in connection with it ; she was supreme in 
 her realm, and was sure that she would suffer no dejec- 
 tion from " rejected manuscripts." She assumed various 
 guises and performed literary feats in many a role. 
 Meantime her little books were gaining in popular fa- 
 vor, even surpassing her expectations ; but there was 
 one feature of her enterprise that thus far did not real- 
 ize handsomely — the financial. No amount of hopeful- 
 ness could make her labor yield according to calcula- 
 tion, and ultimately the books wound up their " little 
 day"; at least, before she was enriched by them. 
 
A MEMORIAL. 55 
 
 The dear ones at Hamilton were justly proud of the 
 token of Emily's love — their home — and every day re- 
 newed the gratitude of their hearts. She also derived 
 great satisfaction from her investment, on account of 
 the happiness it gave them, and hoped that her wisdom 
 would finally appear to her credit. Yet there was the 
 skeleton, the debt, constantly before her eyes, but with 
 its repulsive features kept from their view. "Tell 
 father," she writes to her sister, "there is but little 
 hope of getting any money just now toward my pay- 
 .ment on the place, but he must not be discouraged. I 
 expect a windfall of some sort or other, though I can 
 not for the life of me tell what, or where it is to come 
 
 from. 
 
 " ' The darkest day, 
 (I^ive till to-morrow), will have passed away! ' " 
 
 That ghost, however, would not down at her smile 
 nor at her bidding. " The debts which she had in- 
 curred hung upon her as a heavy weight; and the 
 expedients to which she was driven by the desperate 
 state of her affairs proved mostly failures. Her arti- 
 cles sent to different journals were returned, or thrown 
 silently, and probably unread, under the editor's table. 
 Nothing but the irrepressible buoyancy of a most elas- 
 tic nature prevented her heart from utterly sinking, 
 and it needed all the encouragements of sympathizing 
 friendship, and all the stimulus of necessity to prevent 
 her from renouncing forever the baffling pursuits of 
 authorship." 
 
 Her religious life at this time does not appear, to 
 any marked degree. She is so perplexed and embar- 
 rassed by posing before the critical world as an author, 
 
56 EMII<Y C. JUDSON. 
 
 and by the disappointments resulting from it, that the 
 better elements of her life do not come to the surface. 
 Still, it will be observed that she was free from every 
 form of complaint that might have been construed as 
 murmuring against Providence. The hand of Wisdom 
 was all the while heavy, yet she sinned not nor charged 
 God with folly. Though far from being reconciled to 
 men (publishers in particular), her reconciliation to 
 God was undisturbed. In all states and moods her 
 mind was trustful, her pen devout and playful ; and to 
 abide in a Savior's love amid such repeated wrecking^ 
 is an evidence of decided piety, requiring no proof of a 
 demonstrative sort. Her experience, in fact, was qual- 
 ifying her, by a process of induration, for something 
 further, and was prophetic of its coming. 
 
 A new and an exciting circumstance now awaits 
 the young writer, as yet scarcely dignified by the name 
 of author. Though her career was full of the unex- 
 pected, yet she was quite certain as to one thing — that 
 her luck would be ill luck. She had a smile from 
 Fortune in being admitted to the Seminary, but the 
 monotony of hardships continued. Her piety, though 
 remaining unalloyed, was but partially manifest during 
 the time in which her powers were centered upon her 
 "maiden efforts," and her mind excited in reference to 
 the attitude of the reading world towards them. How- 
 ever, a serious concern as to her success did not quench 
 the love of Christ in her heart, nor obliterate her mis- 
 sionary impressions. 
 
 The time had come for an " opening of Provi- 
 dence," and such an one as she did not anticipate. 
 While alternating between hope and despair, the most 
 
A MEMORIAL. 57 
 
 to be expected was regular employment as an obscure 
 or anonymous writer, and such an engagement she now 
 had as contributor to the Columbian Magazine. But a 
 surprising sun-burst awaited her. It came as light 
 generally comes, while in the way of fidelity, and while 
 testing an honorable method of income. 
 
 In the spring of 1844 she, with her bosom friend, 
 Miss Anable, made a trip to New York, trie " empori- 
 um of trade and the city of sights." Broadway was 
 then the great street of this country, and an opportu- 
 nity of strolling on its sidewalks and peering into its 
 marvelous show-windows was as the dawn of a new 
 day in the life of the observing school-girl. The beau- 
 tiful goods on exhibition charmed her eye and imaged 
 themselves on her mind^ so that the " show " remained 
 with her long after she returned to her home. But to 
 see them was not enough ; she must possess some of 
 them, else her trip would lack its supreme satisfaction. 
 To get them — ah, that was the tug ! 
 
 In about two months after her return her fertile 
 mind reached a contrivance for obtaining the goods, 
 that promised a little, though but a little success. She 
 could not use the money that was imperatively de- 
 manded for other things, but there were her brains ! 
 — yes, the same that had failed to find a market many 
 a time. Another trial might be made, and hope and 
 desire combined to start her faculties into intense ac- 
 tivity. We will quote her admiring biographer : 
 
 The Evening Mirror was at this time flourishing in 
 New York, under the editorial conduct of George P. Morris 
 and N. P. Willis. In June, after her return, while the 
 splendors of the metropolis were still fresh in her fancy, 
 
58 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 with her own timid figure stealing along Broadway beside 
 that of her more world-experienced friend, Emily, in an 
 hour of frolic sportiveness, addressed a letter, half-playful, 
 half-serious, to these gentlemen, intimating her great de- 
 sire to become the possessor of one of those " balzarines" 
 and " neapolitans " which the shops of Broadway paraded 
 in tempting luxuriousness, and delicately hinting that she 
 would like to make the columns of the Mirror the means 
 of procuring the funds which the shop-keepers were im- 
 pertinent enough to ask in exchange for their commod- 
 ities. The letter purported to come from a country maid- 
 en making a brief sojourn in the city, and bore the sug- 
 gestive signature of Fanny Forester. Its elegant playful- 
 ness attracted the attention of the editors of the Mirror. 
 " The dip of their divining rod," as Mr. Willis felicitously 
 expressed it, " detected the neighborhood of genius." They 
 saw under its light and sportive garb indications of a vig- 
 or and force of intellect that might raise their possessor to 
 a high place in the walks of literature. They were indeed 
 a little mystified by the latter, and at a loss to determine 
 whether the writer was really the naive and unsophistica- 
 ted child of nature that she gave herself out for, wantoning 
 in the creations of a genius that was just revealing itself 
 to her virgin consciousness, or a veteran and wily spinster, 
 a practical magazinist, who had trained herself to that last 
 perfection of art which shows as perfect artlessness. 
 
 The letter thus had its desired and designed effect. 
 It stands to her credit as a piquant and cogent writer 
 of pleasantry that it was not thrown aside, as anony- 
 mous or nom de plume communications generally are. 
 It did not gain acceptance by recommendation, nor by 
 the magnetism of the authqr's personal presence, nor by 
 the hope that the paper might catch unawares some 
 famous "man scribbler.'' The Mirror was not in need. 
 
A MEMORIAL. 59 
 
 It yielded to the tempting offer and struck a bargain 
 through the promise of a racy article which the letter 
 with innocent furtiveness conveyed. Then Mr. Willis' 
 " divining rod " revealed the presence of genius, while 
 his heart moved with a pulsation of sympathy, not so 
 much for one in want as for one seeking a fair oppor- 
 tunity in literary life. It was a clear case of honest ap- 
 peal and generous response. The Mirror " walked 
 willingly into the lady's noose." 
 
 Miss Chubbuck now appeared as " Fanny Forester," 
 little realizing how long and how far the name would 
 go. She " conjured a new bonnet and dress out of her 
 inkstand"; but this was merely the beginning, as it was 
 the least, of her conjurations at the same fount. Her 
 sketch of herself and her friend who accompanied her 
 to New York, " a most spirited and dramatic delinea- 
 tion of assumed characters and relations," opened a way 
 for her to the readers of popular fiction throughout 
 the country. The worst, though not the hardest, was 
 over. The blind stroke for " something to wear " proved 
 the fortunate one, such as in other departments of 
 effort many an obscure toiler would like to know 
 how to make. She found a friend who was able and 
 glad to give her prestige ; who also " devoted himself 
 to the cultivation of her talents and fame with a gener- 
 ous ardor, which she repaid with a profound sense of 
 1 indebtedness as to the ' foster-father ' of her intellect." 
 They did not meet till after the lapse of a year from the 
 time the correspondence began, and they met but once : 
 
 She almost literally " awoke one morning and found 
 herself famous." The path to competence and fame opened 
 itself attractively before her. Ere she was aware of it, ere 
 
60 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 she began to dream of it, the name of Fanny Forester was 
 echoed through the country, and her praises were on 
 every tongue. The timid, trembling girl, who had shrunk, 
 like the sensitive plant, from the breath of public notice, 
 dreading the very applause which she courted, was now 
 the cynosure of all eyes — the admired of all admirers. Ap- 
 plications soon came in from the publishers of the popular 
 magazines for the aid of her attractive pen and the prestige 
 of her name, at the highest current prices in this depart- 
 ment of literature. 
 
 The budding of fame imposes a trying ordeal upon 
 a Christian. If one, consciously posing before the 
 world with that bewitching bud before the eye, does 
 not neglect the sweet flowers of devotion, the case will 
 be worth noting. Especially is it difficult for a young 
 woman who has pined, for years, for a pen of power, to 
 resist the unintended flattery of such a man as Na- 
 thaniel P. Willis. He tells Miss Chubbuck that she is 
 more gifted than she thinks ; that he will serve her 
 and her reputation to the best of his means and abil- 
 ity ; that she is more readable than any other female 
 writer in this country. It is true that the number of 
 writers then was quite small ; but so, also, was the num- 
 ber of appreciative readers and publishers. And that 
 she should fail to feel the force of such avowed admira- 
 tion, and to pique herself on the vast benefits of the 
 proffered friendship, is not for a moment to be imag- 
 ined. In fact, that her head should be turned— turned, 
 at least temporarily, from a mission to besotted hea- 
 then to a life of literary activity and, companionship, 
 does not give sufficient occasion for persons of like 
 nature to throw stones. 
 
A MEMORIAL. 6 1 
 
 It appears, however, that authorship had been re- 
 garded by her as, in large degree, a business expedi- 
 ent. Her head was not so " turned " that she relaxed 
 her faithfulness in the work of teaching. She did not 
 resign her position ; she simply added writing, as she 
 found opportunity. She was determined to pay her 
 debts, and to earn the money with which to do it — 
 debts made not in self-ministration, but for the sole 
 purpose of procuring a home for her parents, which 
 could not be secured in any other way. The nobility 
 of her aim is well characterized by the graphic pen of 
 Dr. Kendrick: 
 
 She made no parade of her benevolence or her exer- 
 tions. She silently resolved and then resolutely — almost 
 doggedly — worked, scarcely half aware, herself, either of the 
 depth of her sensibility, or of the extent and sternness of 
 her toils and sacrifices. The only true heroism is uncon- 
 scious heroism — that which performs prodigies of love 
 under the simple impulse of duty-^and this was hers. Let 
 now the majority of those calling themselves Christians, 
 bearing in mind the above facts, read over her sketches, 
 and observe the spirit which they breathe, and the lessons 
 which they inculcate, and then ask themselves if they can 
 give as good an account of their hours of relaxation from 
 the sterner purposes of life. Dress, party-going, frivolous 
 conversation, even the most of lighter reading — place over 
 against these the truth and purity of Emily's delightful 
 sketches ! She was exhausting the springs of youth in 
 behalf of the sinking energies of age, but never by a 
 moment's compromise of moral principle. 
 
 To those leading an aimless life let this shining ex- 
 ample of ldve, loyalty, nobility, come with the radiance 
 peculiarly its own. 
 
62 EMILY C. JTJDSON. 
 
 Miss Chubbuck had now gained substantial recog- 
 nition ; such an espousal as thousands of the unknown 
 are pining to obtain, and many of whom need only a 
 literary spouse to usher them into Fame. The acci- 
 dental " sights " in Broadway, the balzarine and the ne- 
 apolitan, were the slight instrumentality by which the 
 young writer secured the attention desired. But for 
 them her merits might have remained long in the keep- 
 ing of a few admiring, though powerless friends. And 
 now that Mr. Willis had attentively considered the ini- 
 tiatory letter, had suspected the author to be a " regular 
 contributor " to some of the leading magazines, and had 
 said something about her, besides giving her space in 
 his paper, her market as an author was well established. 
 In such devious ways and on such slender threads is 
 found the key to many a powerful mind. 
 
 The Mirror's acceptance of her articles awakened 
 in others a desire to have contributions from the same 
 pen. Very soon Graham and Godey, proprietors of 
 popular magazines of that day, sought her aid. A New 
 York "lion" went out to the center of the state to 
 trace and behold the prodigy ; at the time a difficult 
 and not very frequent proceeding. She at once became 
 the observed of observers, the admired of admirers ; 
 and had she lost her self-poise the blame would not 
 have rested upon herself. 
 
 This first blast of Fame was quite trying to one so ' 
 delicately constituted, mentally and physically, as was 
 Emily Chubbuck. Added to the strains she was al- 
 ready experiencing, it was too much. In a few months 
 she returned to Hamilton, and was there seized with a 
 fever, which kept her from seminary duties for a con- 
 
A MEMORIAL. 63 
 
 siderable period. On returning to Utica she was still 
 feeble, and as the spring came on her friends believed 
 that its usual rigor, in that latitude, rendered it unwise 
 for her to remain there. They therefore interceded 
 for accommodations for her in the milder climate of 
 Philadelphia, and found them in the pleasant home of 
 Rev. A. I}. Gillette, a " born gentleman " and a cordial 
 Christian. 
 
 This step, though made necessary by feeble health, 
 was another one upward in social distinction, to be fol- 
 lowed by still another. From a penniless roll-picker 
 in Pratt's Hollow, she had advanced to the place of an 
 invited guest in a cultivated family in the city of Broth- 
 erly I^ove. She enjoyed the associations and took in 
 the advantages with much relish and profit, as evinced 
 in her correspondence : "I am growing better and bet- 
 ter every day, and promise myself a delightful time. I 
 think I shall like the city better than I do New York 
 — all but the white blinds ; them I can not endure. It 
 seems all the time as though somebody was poking 
 white sticks in my eyes. "When I am in walkable or- 
 der, and little Jemmy Gillette gets well, Mrs. G. and I 
 will measure the pavements at a great rate. The weath- 
 er yesterday and to-day is like June. You will be able 
 to judge something about it when I tell you that (such 
 a cold body as I am) I sit all the time at the open 
 window.'' 
 
 Philadelphia ranked New York in literary men, and 
 they were not blind to the new stars that appeared. 
 Some of them had derived pleasure, if not profit, from 
 her writings. One, at least, had drawn from the silent 
 corner of his editorial sanctum a number of her articles 
 
64 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 that he had not before recognized, and had published 
 them so soon as her nom de guerre attained popularity. 
 The irritation caused her by this disposition to take ad- 
 vantage of her success, and the " hearing " concerning 
 the matter that she had given him by letter, made their 
 meeting somewhat embarrassing. Disturbances be- 
 tween author and publisher were a new kind.of troubles 
 to her, but with trembling, blundering and " stumbling 
 against big words," she finally felt that she had prop- 
 erly impressed him. Among others who paid her their 
 respects were Rufus W. Griswold, Joseph C. Neal and 
 Horace B. Wallace, well-known literary characters, who 
 received her to their friendship and sympathy. 
 
 After a number of weeks delightfully passed in 
 Philadelphia she returns north, stopping a fortnight in 
 Brooklyn, where for the first and only time she had in- 
 terviews with Mr. Willis. Their meeting was one of 
 the rare occasions which only literary friends can ap- 
 preciate. It was the richer because of the circum- 
 stance that the one was a giver and the other a receiv- 
 er, and that he who risked his own prestige to help a 
 meritorious girl to gain her place was now, so soon, 
 permitted to welcome her to his own proud eminence, 
 and she to rejoice with him and in him. It was a fine 
 example of the blessedness of giving, in a department 
 of life where the example is too seldom seen.* 
 
 *The poet Stoddard, in concluding his paper on N. P. Willis in the 
 January Lippincotl, 1890, says : Beyond and above all other editors and 
 authors whom I chanced to know in my early years, Willis was the most 
 watchful for and the most considerate towards young writers— the most 
 appreciative and generous, and, better than all this, the most helpful. 
 His papers were always open to them, and his pen always ready to 
 praise them. He discovered— if the phrase be not too strong— Bayard 
 Taylor, whose juvenile verse I saw in the Home Journal, and the gen- 
 
A MEMORIAL. 65 
 
 Going on to Utica she resumed her work in the 
 Seminary with invigorated health. About twelve 
 months had elapsed since the Mirror made her name 
 "comable by praises," and she had already done con- 
 siderable " coining." Her pseudonym, incidentally ap- 
 pended to her first letter, had acquired a talismanic 
 power, and those who had cast aside the communica- 
 tions of "Emily Chubbuck" were now glad to publish 
 them as the productions of "Fanny Forester." Her 
 friends were beginning to feel a degree of fear lest the 
 effect of popular applause should prove deleterious to 
 her, so sensitive was she to both praise and blame. 
 And one of her nearest friends, one of her first teach- 
 ers in the Seminary, but at this time the wife of Presi- 
 dent Nott, of Union College, addressed her on the sub- 
 ject. Her reply showed that while she was. not un- 
 mindful of the peril she was encountering, she possessed 
 strength of character, and took a rational view of hu- 
 man merit and applause. She says : 
 
 " These newspaper puffs are accidental and ephem- 
 eral things, and while I will not despise them, because 
 in their way they are an advantage to me, do not, I 
 beg of you, think that I am such a simpleton as to be 
 'spoiled' by them. As to the attentions I have received 
 since I have been gone, they have certainly put me a 
 
 tlewomen who wrote over the pen-names of Fanny Forester, F,dith May 
 and Grace Greenwood.— The Home Journal. 
 
 Green forever be the grave of such a man ! — one who does not con- 
 clude that an aspiration for a place in the field of literature is a reason 
 for suppressing the aspirant. Youth of genius are mostly modest and 
 exceedingly sensitive, and it will never be known how much talent has 
 remained undeveloped nor how many bright spirits have been quenched 
 by the merciless dash of unsympathetic souls. The course oflyavinia 
 Chubbuck in shielding her defenceless little sister, Emily, is in point. 
 
66 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 little more at ease with myself, but I do not believe 
 that you will say they have been disadvantageous. In 
 sober truth, Heaven has blessed me (as a balance for 
 the romance which I am not going to disclaim) with a 
 sort of mathematical genius, a dollar-and-cent way of 
 estimating things, which, when necessary, takes the po- 
 etry out of them in a twinkling. Will you not give me 
 credit for some common sense at bottom ? * * L,et 
 me entreat you, however, once for all, never to be for a 
 moment troubled about all this fol-de-rol stuff's turning 
 my brain. Were you in my place you would see it 
 with different eyes from what you do. Things very 
 pretty to look at become smoke when you touch them. 
 Now, / am touching them, and I laugh to find what 
 painted bits of butterflies' wings might have seemed 
 wondrously attractive, if, half a dozen years ago, I 
 could have foreseen that it was to be my lot to catch 
 them." 
 
 Those who discover the semblance of self-confi- 
 dence in the above extract will not fail to discern also 
 the fine grains of "common sense at bottom." And 
 they will bear in mind that the prudent admonition 
 she received came from one admired if not revered, and 
 hence produced the flutter manifest throughout her 
 lengthy letter, and the apparent acerbity of some of 
 her language. A little volatility in youthtime, as in 
 her case, is but the presage of an important element 
 of character. 
 
 The sudden transition from poor, plodding Emily 
 Chubbuck to the famous Fanny Forester was a great 
 strain for human nature to endure ; and that the hero- 
 ine of this narrative was not overstrained thereby will 
 
A MEMORIAL. 67 
 
 become evident when it is seen how she turned from 
 the laurels so honorably won to a career that was cer- 
 tain to bring trials with which she was not familiar 
 and of the severest nature. From literary eminence to 
 religious consecration is a long step ; and in taking it 
 she proved that piety held the supreme seat in her 
 heart. 
 
68 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 VI. 
 
 GHxavmsb gaiety— the swift secret. 
 
 Elevation is to merit what dress is to a handsome per- 
 son.— La Rochefoucauld. 
 
 " Nothing in the world is single ; 
 All things by a law divine 
 In one another's being mingle : — • 
 Why not I with thine ?" 
 
 THE summer of 1845 was a memorable one in Miss 
 Chubbuck's life. She had returned from Philadel- 
 phia with new mental animation and with lips wet with 
 Castalian dew. Having just come down from the 
 mount, how could it be otherwise than that she should 
 seem transfigured, from the company and the atmos- 
 phere enjoyed? But her mind was still without the 
 sound body so much needed, and on this account the 
 minor and more laborious duties of her station were 
 entrusted to other hands. 
 
 The coveted vacation came, and with it an oppor- 
 tunity of spending her time in recreating at Hamilton 
 and in parts adjacent to that healthful center. But 
 Nature gives to a person only one constitution, and 
 when impaired it is not readily renewed. She was 
 still frail. Her friend Willis had advised a total change 
 of sky, and had proffered his services to aid in carrying 
 out any plan she might adopt. Also, the American 
 consul to Genoa had opened the way for her to accom- 
 
A MEMORIAL. 69 
 
 pany his family to Italy; and this opportunity she 
 seriously thought of accepting. She had come to feel 
 that since her earnings enabled her to travel, it might 
 be highly beneficial to take an extended trip and spend 
 some time in a milder climate, " where the oranges 
 grow, and they have roses in the winter time." 
 
 The autumn came on. Every thought of going 
 abroad had been abandoned, but it seemed to be unwise 
 for her to remain in the rigorous New York climate. 
 The expedient most deserving consideration was that 
 to which she had resorted in the winter previous ; and 
 having received an invitation to the hospitable home of 
 Mr. Gillette, for a second term, she went to Philadel- 
 phia in October, to spend the fall and winter. 
 
 This change, so pleasant in some respects, was full 
 of foreboding. If every year she must go away from 
 home and employment to seek health, how long will it 
 be ere this coUrse will be of no avail ? Then who will 
 take up the responsibilities that fall from her hands ? 
 
 There is no evidence, however, that Miss Chubbuck 
 was overcast with gloom at the prospect. Her hopeful 
 and determined mind carried her above the clouds. 
 But interest on debts does not stop to give one time for 
 recuperation. She must in some way keep up her men- 
 tal habits and labors, in order that interest might be 
 kept down. And while active with her pen, her literary 
 friends were again beguiling some of her hours by their 
 attentions, and doing everything practicable to make 
 her sojourn pleasant and profitable. 
 
 Meantime a gracious Providence had mapped out a 
 new and surprising course for her, and already had 
 been leading her in a way that she knew not, and in 
 
70 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 paths she had not seen. She was suddenly aroused by 
 such a presentation as was very rare in her day, and 
 was by no means even a possible thing in her mind. 
 While thoroughly engaged in authorship and in busi- 
 ness relating to it, with a coterie of admirers about her 
 who could scarcely speak to her of anything else, and 
 thus was oblivious to the missionary aspiration of her 
 early days, what should shock her out of her new 
 dreams but the return of that " old love "! A great 
 missionary had returned to this country, arriving at 
 about the time she went to Philadelphia ; and what oc- 
 curred soon afterward we will permit the graphic pen 
 of Dr. Kendrick to relate : 
 
 In December, Dr. Judson, being in Boston, was request- 
 ed to attend a series of missionary meetings in Philadel- 
 phia, and Rev. Mr. Gillette, Emily's host, went on to Boston 
 to secure his presence. On their way between New York 
 and Philadelphia a slight railroad accident detained them 
 two or three hours, and to relieve the tedium of the delay, 
 Mr. Gillette-seeing a volume of the newly published " Trip- 
 pings in Author Land " in the hands of a friend, borrowed 
 it and handed it to Dr. Judson. He hesitatingly took it, 
 the title not promising a work specially to his taste ; but 
 carelessly opening it he soon found his attention riveted 
 by the grace of the style, and the truth and sprightliness of 
 the narrative. On Mr. Gillette returning to him, he in- 
 quired who was the author of the book, adding that it was 
 written with great beauty and power, reiterating, emphat- 
 ically, " with great beauty and power." He asked if the 
 lady was a Christian, and being informed that she w,as, 
 said : " I should be glad to know her. A lady who writes 
 so well ought to write better. It is a pity that such fine 
 talents should be employed on such subjects." Mr. Gillette 
 
A MEMORIAL. 71 
 
 replied that he would soon be able to make her acquaint- 
 ance, as she was then an inmate of his own house. " Is 
 she a Baptist?" asked Dr. Judson ; and being answered 
 affirmatively, he renewedly expressed his desire to see and 
 converse with her, as it was a pity that talents so brilliant 
 should not be more worthily employed. They arrived in 
 (or out of) due time at Philadelphia, and Dr. Judson was 
 welcomed to the house of Mr. and Mrs. W. S. Robarts, who 
 became warm personal friends, as they were already active 
 friends of the mission cause. 
 
 Promptly on the next day he came over to Mr. Gil- 
 lette's. Emily (in her morning dress) was submitting to 
 the not very poetical process of vaccination. As soon as it 
 was over, Dr. Judson conducted her to the sofa, saying that 
 he wished to talk to her. She replied half playfully that 
 she should be delighted and honored by having him talk 
 to her. With characteristic impetuosity he immediately 
 inquired how she could reconcile it with her conscience to 
 employ talents so noble in a species of writing so little 
 useful or spiritual as the sketches which he had read. 
 Emily's heart melted ; she replied with seriousness and 
 candor, and explained the circumstances which had drawn 
 her into this field of authorship. Indigent parents, large- 
 ly dependent on her efforts — years of laborious teaching 
 — books published with but little profit, had driven her to 
 still new and untried paths in which at last success unex- 
 pectedly opened upon her. Making this employment 
 purely secondary, and carefully avoiding everything of 
 doubtful tendency, she could not regard her course open to 
 serious strictures. It was now Dr. Judson's turn to be soft- 
 ened. He admitted the force of her reasons, and that even 
 his own strict standard could not severely censure the 
 direction given to filial love. He opened another subject. 
 He wished to secure a person to prepare a memoir of his 
 recently deceased wife, and it was partly, in fact, with this 
 
72 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 purpose that he had sought Emily's acquaintance. She 
 entertained the proposition, and the discussion of this 
 matter naturally brought them much together during the 
 ensuing few days. The consequences of the coming to- 
 gether of -two persons respectively so fascinating were 
 what has often occurred since the days of Adam and Eve. 
 They became mutually interested. 
 
 The reader is now confronted with a case of 
 "love"; one that contains all the principal features 
 which awaken interest — one enveloped by the glamour 
 of romance, and yet characterized by the veriest reality. 
 In any other sphere than that of foreign missions it 
 might have been believed that this "unexpected" 
 thing also would happen; but here it is a marvel. 
 Under the severest of providential afflictions the most 
 distinguished missionary of the age returns to his na- 
 tive land. Under a previous bereavement he had lived 
 nearly eight tedious years without a child or any rela- 
 tive for solace or society, and much of the time in a 
 solitude which he felt to be enforced upon him for 
 purposes of spiritual discipline. His solitariness was 
 so severe that it became a crucial test of his power of 
 endurance. Dwelling apart in the densest jungle, he 
 seemed neglected pf God and men. Even the tigers 
 came and looked upon him and walked away. 
 
 After such an experience it was evident that he 
 could live without a home, while he could testify from 
 his inmost soul that it is not good for man to be alone. 
 Nothing remains, however 1 , to indicate that he was 
 thinking of remarriage at the time he went to Phila- 
 delphia. After two such wives as Ann Hasseltine and 
 Sarah Boardman it would seem that Heaven should 
 
A MEMORIAL. 73 
 
 regard him as having been abundantly crowned here, 
 and would ask him to await his further coronation till 
 he should enter the Paradise he was already nearing. 
 But God's thoughts are not as our thoughts, neither 
 His ways as our ways. Accident and incident com- 
 bined to reveal his will. 
 
 Dr. Judson did not return to this country wife-hunt- 
 ing, nor to see his friends, nor to obtain rest. He was 
 here because of the sorrows of St. Helena and for the 
 sake of motherless children. Had there been no chil- 
 dren there in the death-ship, he would have cleared 
 that port straightway for the harbor of Maulmain. 
 And, accordingly, when here, he spared no diligence to 
 adjust the affairs of his family, that he might return 
 speedily to the land of darkness to which he had giv- 
 en his heart. His continuance here during the later 
 months of his stay was merely a stroke of wisdom, for 
 the increase of missionary interest, and that alone. 
 
 Having been blessed with those wonderful wives, 
 who impersonated just the excellences he desired, 
 he was disciplined to discover and prepared to ap- 
 preciate the highest traits in woman, of whatever 
 kind. He could not expect to find all in any one, but 
 he required that those found should be positive and 
 give promise of service in some way in the work to 
 which he had consecrated his life. He was not in peril 
 of being overreached in a matrimonial bargain; and 
 his mind was sufficiently alert to observe his equal or 
 counterpart whenever she might appear. Not search, 
 but discernment, brought him, a suitor, to the feet of 
 Fanny Forester. 
 
 She, on the other part, was too finely made to be 
 
74 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 insensible to the presence of a superior character, and 
 to the points of fellowship, if an\, between him and 
 herself: Each being known to be free to marry, the 
 suggestiveness of circumstances was almost inevitable. 
 And then, she, at least, had been rallied by some and 
 advised by others in respect to possible alliances. She 
 had considered the matter — and why not ? — and had 
 even taken counsel of her excellent friend, Mr. Willis, 
 who replied in the serious tone of one deeply interested. 
 He said : " You ask me whether you shall marry for 
 convenience. Most decidedly, no ! What convenience 
 would pay you for passing eighteen hours out of every 
 twenty-four for the rest of your life, within four walls, 
 in company with a person not to your taste ? I judge 
 of you by myself. I would not pass one year thus for 
 any fortune on earth. The private hours of one single 
 month are too precious for any price but love. Think 
 how little of the day poverty can touch, after all. Only 
 the hours when you are out of your chamber. But 
 the moment your chamber door is shut on you alone, 
 all comparison between you and the richest is at an 
 end. Iyet the majority of women marry for conven- 
 ience if they will ; but you are brimful of romance, 
 and delicacy, and tenderness, and a marriage without 
 love, for you, would be sealing up a volcano with a 
 cobweb. You must love — you must and will love pas- 
 sionately and overpoweringly. You have as yet turned 
 but one leaf in a volume of your heart's life. Your 
 bosom is an altar on which there is a fire newly lit 
 — lit by the late and sudden awakening of your gen- 
 ius. Your peculiarity is, that your genius has its altar 
 on your heart, and not, like other people's, in the brain. 
 
A MEMORIAL. 75 
 
 Take care how you throw away the entire music and 
 beauty of a life for only a home that will grow hate- 
 ful to you. I warn you that you must love sooner or 
 later." 
 
 With this presentation of the subject, concerning 
 which inquiry was made, coming from a friend whose 
 opinion was powerful and final, coming, too, previ- 
 ously to the time of meeting Dr. Judson, it is certain 
 that Miss Chubbuck could not have been actuated 
 supremely by any other than the motive her friend 
 had so impressively commended. As a purely domes- 
 tic affair, there was only love that could prevail; be- 
 cause the difference in ages was about thirty years, 
 and their habits of life and the experiences that deter- 
 mine character were a full hemisphere apart. Their 
 circumstances — the father of a considerable family, yet 
 to be reared, and the maid who had cared for children 
 only in the school-room — had been very unlike. Their 
 spheres of labor were the length of the earth's diame- 
 ter asunder and essentially dissimilar. In case of mar- 
 riage one vocation must be surrendered to the other, 
 with all the odds on the side of the man's. She must 
 marry for love, or not at all. 
 
 Religiously and denominationally they were one at 
 heart; yet the cause which was consuming him had 
 occupied her attention but slightly, for a time, dazed as 
 she was by the new atmosphere into which she had 
 been ushered. However, her early sympathy with 
 missions and her longing to engage in them were still 
 traceable in her memory, and the mention of the needs 
 and privations abroad still affected her heart. The 
 difference between her suitor's and her own interest in 
 
76 EMIIvY C. JUDSON. 
 
 the work for the heathen was mainly that of degree. 
 She needed no reconciling to such a cause. 
 
 When Dr. Judson discovered the germs of piety 
 and the latent interest in missions that she very natu- 
 rally revealed in the course of their interviews, he felt 
 free to cherish the admiration for her that had already 
 taken possession of his mind. And when he felt the 
 fascinating power of her genius he became convinced 
 that she might be greatly useful in the missionary 
 enterprise, which requires diversified gifts ; as he said 
 on first reading her "Trippings" — "a lady who writes 
 so well ought to write better." Circumstances, like- 
 wise, admitted of and, in some respects, called for mar- 
 riage, and so, without waiting for the usual period of 
 widowerhood to elapse, he came forward with a pro- 
 posal and urged it like a man of business. 
 
 This was a surprise ; not less to themselves than to 
 others. But it was a very natural, very ingenuous 
 movement. As she once said concerning the origin of 
 her poetry — "it whistled itself." And when once made, 
 the proposition was to be pushed to a successful result. 
 Dr. Judson was not the man to stop in sight of a 
 prize ; and Emily Chubbuck was not the woman to be 
 insensible to the honor he sought to bestow upon her. 
 But he was thoroughly honest in the terms of the pro- 
 posal. Concealing nothing, varnishing nothing, he told 
 all. "He painted to her the glories and the deformi- 
 ties of the Orient; its moral desert in a wilderness of 
 luxuriant beauty. He set forth the toils and privations 
 of the missionary's lot, and over against this the privi- 
 lege of being a reaper in the great moral harvest of the 
 world; the blessedness of those who turn many to 
 
A MEMORIAL. 77 
 
 righteousness ; the glory of that coming world whence 
 faith already draws many a presaging token of bliss." 
 
 She, on the other hand, was equally ingenuous; and 
 the sober view of her spiritual condition that she en- 
 tertained added a charm to her modesty. She knew 
 piety by experience, and fully appreciated the impor- 
 tance of a very large measure of it in one who should 
 presume to labor for the heathen. "She weighed her 
 spiritual deficiencies— her want of that deep consecra- 
 tion so imperatively demanded in one who lays hands 
 on the sacred ark of the missionary cause. She had 
 declined from her earlier consecration, and the path 
 which she once sought the privilege of treading, it 
 now, as she afterwards declared, 'seemed like death 
 for her to enter.' " 
 
 The insertion of the following note, just here, will 
 be pardoned by every one who remembers his own 
 trysting-place and the letters following: 
 
 January 20, 1846. 
 
 I hand you, dearest one, a charmed watch. It always 
 comes back to me'and brings its wearer with it. I gave it 
 to Ann when a hemisphere divided us, and it brought her 
 safely and surely to my arms. I gave it to Sarah during 
 her husband's life-time, (not then aware of the secret,) and 
 the charm, though slow in its operation, was true at last. 
 
 Were it not for the sweet sympathies you have kindly 
 extended to me, and the blessed understanding that " love 
 has taught us to guess at," I should not venture to pray 
 you to accept my present with such a note. Should you 
 cease to guess, and toss back the article, saying, " Your 
 watch has lost its charm ; it comes back to you, but brings 
 
 not its wearer with it" O, first dash it to pieces, that it 
 
 may be an emblem of what will remain of the heart of 
 Your devoted A. Judson. 
 
78 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 The reader may be shocked by the statement that 
 their engagement was made within a month from the 
 time of their first meeting. It opened the opportunity 
 for testing the trite remark, " Marry in haste and re- 
 pent at leisure"; and the testing changed the senti- 
 ment, showing that it is possible to contract a marriage 
 hastily and wisely, while it has been seen, many times, 
 that a slow and much protracted courtship has ended 
 in failure to marry, or in a disastrous marriage. The 
 aims of the Christian life and the lofty aims, especially, 
 of the true missionary were a security against the in- 
 fluences that sometimes prevail. Besides, they had the 
 intelligence to discern the best emotions and the con- 
 science to follow them. 
 
 Under these conditions their marriage did not re- 
 solve itself into a question of taste, nor one of time. 
 Each was qualified to appreciate and most fully to 
 sympathize with the other, and so to fulfill the law of 
 love. They were counterparts to each other, and could 
 make a domestic history replete with rare experiences 
 and in harmonious pursuits. This they found out for 
 themselves ; and having reached a satisfactory conclu- 
 sion without taking "Mrs. Grundy" into their counsels, 
 they felt that they could also settle the matter of time 
 without her help. 
 
 However, the same high considerations were in- 
 volved in a prompt marriage that actuated them in the 
 steps already taken. There were motherless children 
 on the other side of the sea ; and since Emily had de- 
 cided to assume the post of motherhood to them, the 
 sooner she should do so the better. There was also the 
 work laid down by Dr. Judson. Who would presume 
 
A MEMORIAL. 79 
 
 to take up the master's tools, and who that had not a 
 sufficient task of his own ? After devoting to it more 
 than thirty years, the best of his life, without the least 
 felt drawing toward any other, his heart was exclusive- 
 ly enlisted in it. He must return to it with all the 
 expedition that the proprieties of the case, the claims 
 of friends and churches in this country, would admit. 
 Miss Chubbuck's engagement, it will be inferred, 
 took place before the public had opportunity to dis- 
 cuss the possibility or the propriety of it. They were 
 the more dumfounded on that account when told of it. 
 No one lost or won in reputation by prophesying, 
 though the nimble tongue that is ever ready to predict 
 such a circumstance when one goes into new society, 
 may have gained a little in prestige. The Baptist 
 denomination might have been chargeable with nap- 
 ping, had not the acquaintance and courtship been so 
 brief. Yet, after the engagement became known there 
 was no napping until everybody's opinion had been 
 given. 
 
SO EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 VII. 
 
 ffllintp&e&—NEW ATTITUDES, OLD 
 PATHS. 
 
 Then bring thy heart, thy life, thy soul, thy all, 
 To One who drank for thee the wormwood and the gall. 
 
 Mary M. Bowen. 
 
 " Measure thy life by loss instead of gain ; 
 Not by the wine drunk, but by the wine poured forth ; 
 For love's strength standeth in love's sacrifice, 
 And whoso suffers most hath most to give." 
 
 MISS CHUBBUCK was now.before the country in 
 a new attitude. Her startling decision had run 
 through the entire circuit of her readers and admirers 
 with an electrical thrill. The effect at first was uni- 
 formly one of surprise, and then of varying impres- 
 sions as to the fitness of the whole affair. The pillars 
 in the mission cause trembled lest the literary sprite 
 that was about to cross the threshold of the temple 
 would prove insufficient for the solemn responsibilities 
 she was to assume. The wiseacres thought they saw 
 the end of Dr. Judson's usefulness. And the literary 
 men, caring for none of these things, saw Fanny For- 
 ester sacrificing hosts of admirers in order to take up 
 the cause of a race incapable of admiring anything 
 beautiful and good. And Mr. Wallace voiced the feel- 
 ing of the selfish world in expressing the wonder, — 
 
A MEMORIAL. 8r 
 
 " if people will be missionaries, that they do not select 
 ' some decent place.' " 
 
 She was sensitive to criticism, especially that which 
 came from her friends; such friends, particularly, as 
 had helped her in the hour of need and lifted her name 
 out of obscurity. These, seemingly, had a claim to the 
 enjoyment of a pen they had so neatly feathered. Their 
 verdict on her genius had proven to be a clear indorse- 
 ment of their wisdom ; then why should she not regard 
 their opinion in this matter above her own? Why go 
 to heathendom when they expressed the conviction 
 that she would thus throw herself away? 
 
 Ah ! there is a wisdom not according to this world. 
 The natural heart discerns it not, neither regards it. 
 Miss Chubbuck had long before received the things 
 of the Spirit, and her spiritual sense awakened quickly 
 at the word of one who had already proved to the 
 world that the best type of greatness is compatible 
 with service to the lowly, and in that service shines 
 with greatest lustre. Between the two calls she was 
 bound to be loyal to that which expressed the mind 
 of Him who came not to be ministered unto, but to 
 minister and to give His life a ransom for many. 
 
 The judgment of the churches was more deserving 
 of consideration than that 'of the world, and it doubt- 
 less entered into her deliberations as far as the case 
 justified. She was respectful but determined. She 
 wanted the favor of her friends, and, of course, wished 
 them to coincide with her plans. What was her joy 
 when Miss Sheldon favored her "wild-looking project" 
 and, with thoughtful kindness, wrote to her parent^ for 
 the purpose of preparing their minds to hear of it spe- 
 cifically — to "soften the matter," as she said. 
 
82 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 The time had come for her to resign her place in 
 "society," so far as it might interfere with her new 
 duties and the preparation for them. This brought a 
 test to bear, to which she was fully equal. She proved 
 that, though thought to be fond of gay society, and 
 though willing to heighten such an impression rather 
 than to correct it, she had no taste for it. She had 
 practiced a similarly innocent deception, of an opposite 
 nature, in respect to her religion; innocent, except in 
 its effects on her own heart. She had been nicknamed 
 at school " the little saint," and in her determination 
 to show that she was not what she was taken to be 
 she did what produced " a low state of religious feel- 
 ing." She was not thoroughly understood, and by 
 some was much misunderstood. 
 
 That she was more fully a Christian than it has 
 been supposed, is evident from the gleam that comes 
 from the above confession. Others saw the marks of 
 piety which she thought to deny lest she might be 
 a hypocrite. Her fugitive articles for the New York 
 Baptist Register, and some other minor writings bore 
 a savor of piety that justified her name as a Christian 
 of a high type; but it was "painful to be praised for 
 such things," she said. 
 
 The number is not small that will discover evidence 
 of the real Christian in the manner in which she cared 
 for those who had given her being and rearing. And 
 how far the honoring of her father and mother con- 
 tributed to make it well with her in respect to her new 
 relationship, perhaps neither she nor any one else ever 
 estimated. It would be highly beneficial, however, for 
 every young daughter to regard her example and re- 
 member " the first commandment with promise." 
 
A MEMORIAL. 83 
 
 One qualification for the missionary life is the 
 sense of its difficulties and a humble spirit in the one 
 about to enter upon it. And it could not for a mo- 
 ment be thought that such a veteran as Dr. Judson 
 would fail to acquaint her with all she needed to 
 know ; while the question of personal fitness would 
 be revolved in her own heart. She says: "I have 
 not taken this step without a great, great deal of 
 thought, and I would not take it but that I believe the 
 blessing of God is in it. I must acknowledge, indeed, 
 that I have little of the proper missionary spirit. Per- 
 haps it will increase ; I hope so. I would gladly be 
 useful, and this has influenced me very much in my 
 decision." 
 
 Her literary friends, though dissatisfied with her 
 decision, passed high encomiums on her general char- 
 acter, touching points that they had not expected to be 
 called upon to consider, and such as pertained immedi- 
 ately to her new sphere. Mr. Wallace had written : 
 " If you should ever be placed in circumstances to call 
 it forth, the world will find that there is stuff for a her- 
 oine hidden behind your partial development by litera- 
 ture." In this unconscious prophecy he voiced the 
 sentiment of the entire coterie of those who had but 
 just come to know her, as well as that of the numerous 
 friends who had seen her manner of life. She had 
 endured enough to gain the gift of endurance. She 
 says to her most intimate friend and adviser: "Even 
 you can not dream of half that I have borne." - 
 
 Miss Chubbuck was now left to her own thoughts 
 — to the mental seclusion of one who is "engaged.'' 
 The transition from the whirl of magazine people to 
 
84 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 the exclusive society of a suitor, and the equally sud- 
 den change from his constant visitations to solitari- 
 ness in her chamber was quite an experience to pass 
 through in thirty days. Dr. Judson was a man of 
 despatch, and a man in demand. When he had closed 
 his contract with her, and his engagements with the 
 churches, he went to Washington, bearing within his 
 heart the joyous hope of a renewed domestic life. The 
 tender and beautiful letters he wrote her immediately 
 after his departure have sometimes, but rarely, been 
 equaled. Her heart was additionally wrought upon by 
 this means, and he found in her his full complement 
 as a correspondent, and a "better half" indeed. 
 
 The pen she had been using was now resting, as 
 she gave herself to a contemplation of the future. A 
 great service was before her, from which there could 
 be no discharge except by death. There were friends 
 to be conciliated, and extensive preparations to be 
 made. And after securing the desired composure of 
 mind, heroine that she really was, she became anxious 
 to meet the new conditions at once. What should she 
 say to the many, and to the few? How explain her 
 course to those to whom she had committed herself 
 for study and teaching? How produce satisfaction in 
 that dependent family at Hamilton ? 
 
 Fortunately she was detained by the severity of 
 the winter from going north, for a few weeks. This 
 circumstance enabled her to notify her friends as to 
 the engagement, and by the lapse of time to enable 
 them to attain some degree of quietness, and to pre- 
 pare to greet her without indiscreet and harmful re- 
 marks. But, being fully committed, she was impatient 
 
A MEMORIAL. 85 
 
 for whatever fray might be awaiting her, that she 
 might end it, and for the adjustment of her affairs 
 preparatory to departure for the East. 
 
 On the 17th of February (1846) she proceeded to 
 New York, and thence to Utica. In New York she was 
 entertained by the Colgates ; a Baptist half-way house 
 of the old hospitable type. She was now traveling as 
 a prospective missionary. O, the change in eighteen 
 months ! — from the gay American metropolis to "grim 
 Burmah"! from balzarines to barbarians! — the first 
 transition in the mind of the unformed missionary. Is 
 the young novelist dreaming! Is she taking up the 
 glories of the Orient for the warp of a new story, or 
 is she designing a romance of personal reality? She 
 passes one night and rises to address her affianced as 
 follows : " There is something so unreal (sometimes) 
 in the position in which I find myself that reflection 
 becomes absolutely painful ; and I am half tempted to 
 doubt my own identity. But, like the old woman of 
 the nursery rhyme, I hope home will dissipate the 
 mist. They will make it all real when I get to Utica, 
 for they seem to think it a very proper thing for me to 
 become a missionary. I thought it a very nice thing, 
 too, when I went to my room last night and laid my 
 head upon my pillow, perfectly happy. Things were 
 reversed. The bugbears haunted me in the day-time, 
 and at night they fled." 
 
 She proceeded to Utica without delay, and was 
 once more at home among the teachers and pupils at 
 the Seminary, who already felt a deep interest in her 
 new plans, and proposed to assume the main responsi- 
 bility for her outfit. It was their first experience with 
 
86 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 missionary departures, no doubt, and the delightful 
 subject in hand and the freshness of the enterprise 
 conspired to furnish them an enjoyable entertainment. 
 How ready were the unskilled "girls "to "lend a 
 hand"! — how they flew to and fro to provide raiment 
 and comforts for the singer who was to go away over 
 the sea! 
 
 Early in March Emily went to Hamilton for such 
 an experience as she had never had at home. She was 
 now a bird spoken for and captured. Already she felt 
 the bars of her cage, but loved them well. With a new 
 development of affection she met her friends, feeling 
 that she was another and another's. She could not 
 enter into family affairs in just the way she had done. 
 The broaching of her new plans and the consideration 
 of them were to engross the time. Dr. Judson came 
 on presently, and the formation of acquaintance entered 
 largely into the visit. All felt honored by the pros- 
 pective relationship ; Dr. Judson not less than the fam- 
 ily, because the parents of a " child of genius and of 
 song" are rare and respected. " The loggery," as Em- 
 ily named their domicile, was made sacred, first by the 
 hard-earned money she had put into it, and further by 
 the presence of the great missionary of the age. 
 
 Glances at a few of her letters will serve to show 
 the modest, sensible views that she entertained: 
 
 To Mr. Wallace: "I am a great admirer of great- 
 ness — real, genuine greatness; and goodness has an 
 influence which I have not the power to resist. I be- 
 lieve the reason that I have never loved before (for I 
 think that I have a somewhat loving nature) is, that 
 I never saw the two so beautifully combined in one 
 
A MEMORIAL. 87 
 
 person. My good Doctor's hair is as black as the 
 raven's wing yet ; but if it were not, if he were riiany 
 years older, it would be all the same ; I would go with 
 him the world over. There is a noble structure with- 
 in, singularly combining delicacy and strength, which 
 will afford me protection and shelter in this world — a 
 place where my own weak nature may rest itself se- 
 curely — a thing that will never grow old, and that I 
 shall love in eternity. * * * * Do you think 
 that I am carried away by a foolish enthusiasm — a 
 false zeal? Or do you think that I have made a 
 sober, common-sense estimate, of things, and decided 
 wisely?" 
 
 To Mrs. Nott: "I fancy that you will be pretty 
 sure that no common man could have made a mission- 
 ary of me ; and no common man would have had the 
 independence to choose me." 
 
 To Dr. Judson : " You freed me from a glittering 
 coil which was growing irksome to me, and you are to 
 be my spiritual teacher." 
 
 From Mr. Wallace : " Your choice is worthy of you. 
 It commends itself to my highest sympathy and admi- 
 ration. You may recollect that I said to you, at the 
 time when I could not be suspected of a design to flat- 
 ter, that Dr. Judson was one of my heroes ; that good- 
 ness, such as his, was the highest type of greatness — 
 far surpassing all such ambition as is founded on views 
 that are limited by this world, and beating down the 
 rivalry of such fame as has in it any admixture of van- 
 ity, It produces no wonder in me, but the highest 
 interest and delight, to know that your spirit is so 
 finely sensitive to the lofty attractions that belong to 
 
88 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 a character and career so disinterested — so sublime. 
 That which first engaged my regard and curiosity in 
 relation to you was the fascinating delicacy of thought 
 and feeling which your writings displayed; what 
 struck me most, in approaching you more nearly, 
 and placed my respect upon a higher and surer basis, 
 was the superiority which your nature insensibly al- 
 ways displayed to the interests and excitements of 
 literary reputation. That 'pettiness of fame' which 
 is the glory of so many, seemed to excite your aver- 
 sion; and that which, in other cases, is the coveted 
 result of authorship, seemed to be to you the only 
 annoying and painful part of it." 
 
 After ten days at Hamilton — his first visit to that 
 classic village, so entrancing in its natural loveliness, 
 and so honored as the main educator of missionaries — 
 Dr. Judson journeyed eastward to attend to personal 
 affairs, and to the ford's business which required 
 haste. Miss Chubbuck returned to Utica, and the 
 preparation for her departure very soon became the 
 engrossing subject of all minds in the institution. She 
 had " softened the matter " with the folks at home, and 
 was beyond that sensitive point which stands in the 
 way of a daughter's free communication of her love 
 affairs to her parents. Dr. Judson had been present, 
 and by his manly bearing rendered relief in her em- 
 barrassment. 
 
 Her engagement was an event involving peculiar 
 consequences to the Chubbucks. After the surprise 
 it gave, came not a little solicitude on account of its 
 bearing upon the interests of the family. As their 
 main dependence she was now to be missed,, and how 
 
A MEMORIAL. 89 
 
 to meet the deficiency thus created was a problem to 
 be studied. No one could fill her place, because there 
 was no one among them having a genius for remuner- 
 ative work or for commanding resources. She had 
 gone beyond the point of present supplies and had 
 devised a way of reducing expenses by buying a home 
 for them. Very naturally other members of the family 
 had not become disciplined in care and tact to the 
 same extent if at all. How was she to be spared? 
 Must not the home be lost, and parents and children 
 be scattered? 
 
 These questions troubled herself as well as the 
 others. Her expected departure from the country, so 
 far from relieving her of the responsibility served to 
 intensify the sense of it, and to arouse the heroic ele- 
 ments of her being. Immediately upon her engage- 
 ment she writes to Miss Sheldon: "I have several 
 debts at Utica, and I am anxious to get back and see 
 about them. I do not know exactly my resources, but 
 I know they are in a pretty bad state. For this reason 
 I have declined going on to Washington, and am very 
 anxious to return to Utica. I do not even know just 
 how much is due on my place. I shall have enough to 
 make out my April payment, but beyond that I am 
 very destitute. I shall collect all my ' Fanny Forester' 
 stories, and make as good a bargain as I can." 
 
 Dr. Judson sympathized most heartily in these 
 trials, and he so far retracted his "rather ungallant 
 exhortation," made at their first meeting, as to en- 
 courage her to trust to him for help and to continue 
 writing books. From his chamber in Mr. Colby's 
 house, Boston, after a "good cry," (having sent off his 
 
90 EMIIvY C. JUDSOJST. 
 
 two sons crying, to Worcester, the day before,) he 
 writes: "My pecuniary arrangements are such that 
 we shall have an ample sufficiency for all our pur- 
 poses, and enough to furnish your parents with what 
 they may think necessary; so that you can write as 
 much or as little as you choose ; and if you take any 
 remuneration you can have the pleasure of presenting 
 it, through the mission treasury, as an expression of 
 gratitude to Him who gave his life for you, and is 
 now preparing your seat and your crown." 
 
 Miss Chubbuck, now at Utica, is busy with her 
 friends preparing for the voyage. School days are 
 changed to preparation days. Morning bells have the 
 tone of wedding bells. Those who had sat in awe be- 
 fore the teacher now clustered at her feet to do her 
 service. She was strangely affected by the new condi- 
 tions which had come to pass. She wrote : "I have been 
 through with a terrible scene to-day. I was induced 
 to go into the school-room for an hour, and such sob- 
 bings ! I haven't got the tears out of my eyes yet." 
 
 A month passes and Dr. Judson returns from the 
 eastern states and makes a visit at Utica. He and 
 Miss Chubbuck proceed thence to Hamilton and make 
 a more complete and satisfying visit there, looking at 
 the homes and haunts of her girlhood. It is the 
 month of May, in which Alderbrook and the Chenan- 
 go Valley put on their new verdure and charm the 
 beholder in a way and to a degree surpassing the 
 reader's imagination. A paragraph from Dr. Ken- 
 drick's "I^ife and letters " will indicate how our hero- 
 ine availed herself of the last opportunity to trace her 
 own trippings and to introduce the hero of her heart 
 
A MEMORIAL. 91 
 
 to scenes entirely new to him, but which were hence- 
 forth to enter into his own experience : 
 
 Dr. Judson and Emily visited together her early home 
 in Eaton. Dr. Judson had read her description of Under- 
 bill Cottage in the " Trippings," and he remembered the 
 invitation there given to the reader to come and survey its 
 beauties, with herself for his cicerone, when it was sur- 
 rounded by the laughing beauty of spring. This invita- 
 tion he now felt irresistibly inclined to accept, and Emily, 
 probably, was not disposed to recall it. They visited the 
 hallowed spot together ; took tea in Underhill Cottage ; 
 and wandered at leisure by the stream which, fringed with 
 alders, gave to the subsequent collection of her sketches 
 its graceful and appropriate name. Fancy may be excused 
 for lingering a moment on the scene in which two such 
 spirits — the one full of the warm affections, the fresh hopes, 
 the bright fancies of youth and youthful genius — the other 
 that of one who had filled a hemisphere and a half century 
 with his deeds of sublime Christian devotion, but whose 
 genial character time had but touched with a mellow grace 
 — in which they together 'visited the spot which had wit- 
 nessed the early joys and sorrows of the fair and gifted 
 being who was soon to lay her hand in his, and share his 
 fortunes on the other side of the globe. What memories 
 of the past, what visions, chastened yet joyful, of the future, 
 throng upon those spirits, both of which have drunk deep 
 of the cup of sorrow, and know well the stern realities of 
 life, and yet both of which possess within a permanent 
 well-spring of joy and hope, such as God bestows only on 
 the favored few ! With what touching pathos did Emily 
 recount the childish memories with which each scene was 
 associated — the memories of joys — O how sweet ! and of 
 griefs — O how bitter ! 
 
92 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 While under the charm of the sequestered vale, 
 and while recalling the sad circumstances and also the 
 joyous experiences of early days, as contained in the 
 first part of this narrative, it will be instructive to 
 dwell a moment upon the literary affairs of Miss Chub- 
 buck at this time. From being a young scribbler 
 before the old hearth-fire, amidst the family circling 
 before it, ("shivering on one side while toasting the 
 other,") and from the humiliation that was absolute- 
 ly oppressive, she has risen to rank and recognition 
 among the popular writers of the time. Now she has 
 her writings on hand, when about to leave the country 
 for a permanent residence, and the disposition of them 
 to good advantage becomes a new and unexpected 
 source of anxiety. 
 
 Various publishers were snatching and shaping 
 them for immediate, catch-penny purposes. A pict- 
 ure of a female with her name beneath it was embla- 
 zoned on the cover of an abridged copy, exciting Dr. 
 Judson's humor and her ire. Like other popular 
 writers, in similar circumstances, she determined to 
 seek benefit through the law. But better counsels 
 prevailed, especially Dr. Judson's sober suggestion that 
 the multiplication of editions and parts of books might 
 enable her to be more useful ; to " soften and cleanse 
 and prepare, it may be, for higher and more spiritual in- 
 fluences." He united his efforts to hers in an earnest 
 endeavor to make a speedy adjustment of her literary 
 relations, so that she might leave the country at peace 
 with all, and with her writings in remunerative hands. 
 After various futile attempts a satisfactory arrange- 
 ment was effected, Mr. N. P. Willis rendering assist- 
 
A MEMORIAL,. 93 
 
 ance by giving introductions to the leading printing 
 firms. 
 
 The settlement of claims against her property in 
 Hamilton was also effected, Dr. Judson assisting. He 
 wrote her: " You can arrange for the purchase of the 
 additional lot, if you please, for $300, before I come, 
 and for the fence at $50. I shall be able to let you 
 have as much of the sum appropriated for your outfit, 
 that is, $200, as you may wish. The $300 for myself 
 I have declined." 
 
 She showed the utmost cordiality toward Dr. Jud- 
 son's children, and desired to assist in every way prac- 
 ticable in their rearing and education. To this end 
 she proposed to take the daughter back to Burmah, 
 and there give her religious nurture and intellectual 
 training; actuated by a wish to make her father the 
 more happy and to subserve the greatest good of the 
 child. She said in a letter to him, previous to their 
 marriage : " She is your only daughter ; you love her 
 so much, and it will be so hard for the little creature 
 to stay behind. And you may be assured that she 
 shall not lack for any good which I am capable of 
 exerting. I know the point where I should be most 
 likely to fail; but I would pray most earnestly to 
 exert a healthful, religious influence. And how I 
 should love to have the training of her active little 
 mind ! I would pursue a regular system of instruc- 
 tion ; give daily book lessons, besides the other lessons 
 which we could extract from things about us. It 
 would be something of a task, certainly, but a very 
 agreeable one, and one which, doubtless, would con- 
 tribute to my own improvement. * * * * Dare 
 
94 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 not trust Abby with me, eh? Ah! you don't know 
 how wise and dignified I can be when occasion 
 requires it. Not one of my pupils was surprised at 
 the news of my purpose to become a missionary." * 
 
 *Abby, it is known, did not return to Burmah. Arriving in this 
 country just at the close of her tenth year, she was placed in good hands, 
 was educated, and has been a teacher of high character. She is now at 
 the head of Judson Institute, Minneapolis, Minn. 
 
A MEMORIAL. 95 
 
 VIII. 
 
 ^Xawiagt— ad/bus, ocean, orient. 
 
 I thank thee for the languid years 
 
 Of loneliness and pain, 
 When flesh and spirit sowed in tears, 
 
 But scattered not in vain ; 
 For trust in God and faith in man 
 
 Sprang up beneath the rain. 
 
 * » » * 
 
 Lord, keep me closer at thy side 
 
 As life the sweeter grows, 
 Lest I forget in this content 
 
 The thorns beneath the rose. 
 
 Rose Terry Cooke — " Thanksgiving." 
 
 THE time for the consummation of her marriage 
 hastened on. As she contemplated the new rela- 
 tion, with its honors and opportunities, she could but 
 wish that Time would not be tardy, and that she might 
 be relieved from the embarrassments of her fame, and 
 be sheltered under the strong name of her " good Doc- 
 tor." On the other hand, there were the old home, 
 and the " old folks at home." Far hence the day of 
 parting and tears ! The mention of the ship, she said, 
 " sent her heart down into her shoes." 
 
 The day was reached. It was in the bonny month 
 of June, her favorite season, of which she had written 
 in glowing numbers ten years before : 
 
96 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 " "Tis June — 'tis gladsome, gorgeous June, 
 The rich, warm flush of summer noon 
 Rests on the golden hills." 
 
 The flowers were out in full, bedecking the village, 
 and with their beauty responding to the inviting rays 
 of the sun. Nature did the decorating for the memo- 
 rable nuptial occasion, and thus, with its affluence, 
 came to the relief of the family. The arrangements 
 were simple, as befitted the event; the company pri- 
 vate, consisting only of the family, and Miss Sheldon 
 and Miss Anable, of Utica, whom the bride regarded 
 as fulfilling the oifice of sisters to her in an eminent 
 degree. The venerable Dr. Nathaniel Kendrick, who 
 had known her missionary aspirations from their ori- 
 gin, and who at this time was languishing under a 
 fatal disease, arose from his couch, a few steps away, 
 and went in and performed the rite which determined 
 one of the closest and sincerest ' marriage bonds ever 
 formed. 
 
 The bridal day', which was June 2, 1846, naturally 
 extended to a bridal occasion of some days' duration. 
 " Dr. Judson and his bride spent three or four days 
 with her parents, exchanging greetings with their 
 numerous friends, and accepting their hospitalities. 
 It was to many a memorable occasion. Mrs. Judson's 
 quiet dignity and simplicity of manner, the joy of sat- 
 isfied and happy love sparkling in her eye, yet tem- 
 pered by the shadow of her near and final parting from 
 those whom she loved, lent to her an added charm ; 
 while Dr. Judson, with renovated health and buoyant 
 spirits, casting off all reserve, gave loose rein to his 
 matchless powers of captivation, and made himself 
 
A MEMORIAL. 97 
 
 the life and soul of many delighted circles." — {Ken- 
 drtck.) 
 
 The first Sabbath of their new life was spent in the 
 city of Utica, and embraced some peculiar and delight- 
 ful experiences. They were amid the scenes of Mrs. 
 Judson's seminary and church-life for the six previous 
 years, where supports for her courage and stimulus for 
 her endeavors had been received, and where they were 
 now the observed of all observers ; she in the flush of 
 her triumph over circumstances, and he the modest 
 victor on heathen fields, in the realm of language, liter- 
 ature and religion. Curiosity gave way to honor, and 
 criticism to cordial, Christian affection. 
 
 A circumstance rendering the day a hallowed one 
 to Mrs. Judson, was the baptism of her "most intimate 
 and sympathizing friend," Miss Anable, who had been 
 a Presbyterian. Because of her sisterly regard for his 
 wife, with other reasons, Miss Anable desired Dr. Jud- 
 son to administer the ordinance. He complied with 
 the request, immersing her in the Mohawk river, and 
 forward, which he believed to be the original and 
 proper way. This was the only baptism he ever 
 administered in America. 
 
 In her farewell to the churches with which she had 
 been connected, Mrs. Judson thus refers to the one at 
 Utica : 
 
 " There is another church with which I have a 
 more intimate connection — the one whose commenda- 
 tion I bear to a strange people in a strange land, but 
 worshiping no strange God. There are to me no 
 dearer ones on earth than a little circle at Utica, with 
 whom I have hoped and feared, rejoiced and wept and 
 
98 EMII.Y C. JUDSON. 
 
 prayed. God grant that I may join that same circle 
 above ! that the tremulous voice which thousands of 
 times has borne a confession of our sins and iollies up 
 to our Intercessor I may hear again in songs of praise ; 
 that when the thin, gray hairs are brightened, and the 
 heavy foot made swift and light, I may return heaven- 
 ly love for the counsels to which I have so often list- 
 ened. I do not ask to be remembered there, for I 
 know that parting in person can not mar the union of 
 spirit, and when my hand is strong, and my heart is 
 light, when Christ confers upon me any peculiar bless- 
 ing, I shall think that Deacon Sheldon and those 
 who love him and me are praying for me." 
 
 What a blessing for a young missionary to carry 
 away — the benediction of such a godly man and the 
 remembrance of his intercessions at a throne of grace ! 
 If churches would but search out the sensitive, suscep- 
 tible, pining hearts in their membership, and if, indi- 
 vidually, they would bear them in prayer continually 
 and within their hearing, there would be more deacon 
 Sheldons to be gratefully remembered, and more hero- 
 ines made for heathen climes. 
 
 Mrs. Judson had bidden adieu to Hamilton, and it 
 was left to the " little circle at Utica" to complete the 
 home outfit and to speed her on the way. Her part- 
 ing, as well as her position, was, in some degree, re- 
 lieved of its painful nature by the company of another 
 lady. Miss I^ydia Lillybridge, who had been associated 
 with her in teaching in the Seminary, was designated 
 as a missionary associate. The little party, an object 
 of more intense interest than a similar company would 
 be now, took final leave of teachers, pupils and Chris- 
 
A MEMORIAL. 99 
 
 tian friends at Utica, after a few days, and proceeded 
 eastward. 
 
 Mrs. Judsort was brought to face some things that 
 were quite trying to her. Her husband took her to 
 his paternal home, and to Ann Hasseltine's old home 
 at Bradford, where she met Abby and the remaining 
 friends of the pioneer heroine. The atmosphere was 
 still laden with the incense of that wonderful life that 
 went out in Burmah, and fragrant though it was, there 
 was a felt sense of oppressiveness in the poet heroine 
 as she meekly drew the inevitable comparison. But she 
 could plead that she had not sought the other's place 
 nor her prerogatives, and this fact dulled the sting. A 
 parting with Abby, and the tears of him whose heart 
 she was obligated to cheer ; the freshness of the sorrow 
 at St. Helena, and the beautiful virtues of her whom 
 she was expected to memorialize ; the anticipated mis- 
 sionary meeting at Boston, at which she must appear 
 as " the successor of two such women " — these were 
 circumstances calculated to test the heroine of the 
 woolen factory and the country school and New York 
 snows in a new way, and which . might well have 
 called forth some deserved charity. 
 
 The formalities of the farewell receptions could not 
 altogether assure her as to the degree of popular re- 
 gard. Whether the people were through with their 
 criticisms on Dr. Judson because of his choice, and 
 how she was viewed in comparison with the dead, she 
 could not certainly decide. How frequently she may 
 have wiped away the furtive tear no one knows. But 
 it is clear that to have her husband to herself, and to 
 stand firmly at his side, amid his toils, and perform 
 
IOO EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 the part of one designated and pledged to aid in 
 the conversion of the heathen, in the use of her 
 own talent — this would be absolute felicity when 
 contrasted with the unsolved compliments of farewell 
 recognitions. 
 
 Receiving attentions became a tax that must be 
 paid. Something was due to the denomination, and 
 more to her husband, who was one of its greatest rep- 
 resentatives, and who was entitled to all they were 
 receiving from it. Hence she endured patiently ; and 
 two days before sailing wrote her sister as follows : " I 
 meant to have written you before, but if you could 
 know what a siege I have had ! I have been crowded 
 almost to death with company- Sometimes my hand 
 has been so swollen with constant shaking that I have 
 not been able to get on a glove, and I have been 
 obliged to use my left hand." 
 
 Before the embarkment, those literary persons who 
 had fostered her genius, and who were so chagrined 
 because she "would be a missionary," would throw 
 herself away, not even •' selecting a decent place," 
 made haste to unite with the churches in bestowing 
 upon her attentions and gifts. Such men as Willis, 
 Prescott, Longfellow and Bancroft, the latter at the 
 time a member of the President's Cabinet, were among 
 the givers. The following from Mr. Willis deserves a 
 place in these pages : 
 
 Washington, June 26, 1846. 
 
 Your letter enclosing the money for books I received 
 
 only yesterday from Boston, with two forwardings, and 
 
 to-day comes this, written as you left Utica. I re-enclose 
 
 the money, for the books can be had without it. I spoke 
 
A MEMORIAL. IOI 
 
 to Secretary Bancroft at a party last night, and he was, 
 of course, proud of the opportunity to present you with 
 his books, and so will be Prescott and I,ongfellow — and 
 myself. I shall make you up a box of books from my 
 own stores to take with you, and I shall be in Boston 
 when you sail, and see you, with a tearful God-speed, off 
 the shore. Will you write me at what time precisely 
 you will be in Boston ? 
 
 In view of what was said and felt, and of what may 
 be thought by some at this day, concerning the fitness 
 of her marriage and appointment, another paragraph 
 from the above letter is given, showing the sentiments 
 of the writer after mature reflection : 
 
 The more I think of your marriage, the more I think 
 you are doing the best for your happiness. Your husband 
 has a prodigal largeness of nature, and the kindest and 
 most affectionate of hearts ; and you required a trying 
 and unusual destiny to fill the capabilities of which late 
 years have seen the dangerous formation. Both for your 
 heart and your peculiar mind, therefore, Providence has 
 sent you the needful scopd, and you will be happy. Dr. 
 Judson's errand abroad will soon draw on your volcanic 
 enthusiasm, and the vent will be healthful to soul and 
 body. With love satisfied and talents employed, change 
 of climate and improved health, you will bless God for a 
 merciful direction of your destiny. 
 
 The woman was no ordinary person who, in the 
 opinion of such a keen observer, " required a trying 
 and unusual destiny to fill the capabilities of her 
 nature." Could a more sententious phrase be formed 
 to express, though indirectly, the "stuff" necessary to 
 a missionary character? The calling to the missionary 
 work consists, in part, in an aptitude for the grave 
 
102 BMIIvY C. JUDSON. 
 
 responsibilities and crucial severities of the field. If 
 Mrs. Judson had been long spared for the service, in 
 connection with her husband, she would have proven 
 that the tribulations of her early days were both pro- 
 phetic and preparatory to heroic endeavors of a high 
 order. 
 
 To close these references a paragraph from that 
 "refined, high-bred, delicate and manly" gentleman, 
 Mr. H. B. Wallace, who was one of the first to recog- 
 nize Emily's genius, is here adduced to show how her 
 choice reflected credit upon herself. He was made a 
 party to "the secret" very early, and in acknowledg- 
 ing the confidence reposed in him, he said : 
 
 Your choice is worthy of you. It commends itself to 
 my highest sympathy and admiration. You always seemed 
 to me to be too exalted and heaven-like for the mere affec- 
 tion ot ordinary persons ; and not to be waited upon by 
 them with any feelings but such as are blended with some- 
 thing of worship. You may recollect that I said to you, 
 at a time when I could not be suspected of a design to 
 flatter, that Dr. Judson was one of my heroes ; that good- 
 ness, such as his, was the highest type of greatness — far 
 surpassing all such ambition as is founded on views that 
 are limited by this world, and beating down the rivalry 
 of such fame as has in it any admixture of vanity. It 
 produces no wonder in me, but the highest interest and 
 delight, to know that your spirit is so finely sensitive to 
 the lofty attractions that belong to a character and career 
 so disinterested— so sublime. * * * * I shall 
 come to mingle my best and brightest omens with the 
 " might of the world's good wishes " that will attend your 
 going. 
 
A MEMORIAL. 103 
 
 The ship Faneuil Hall, "beautiful and comfort- 
 able," is riding in Boston harbor, laden with commod- 
 ities for the East. The state-rooms are being chosen, 
 and she is to sail on the first of July. Mrs. Judson 
 visits her cabin and is pleased with its furnishings. 
 
 The departure was delayed to July nth, when, 
 amid the adieus of hundreds drawn to the city and to 
 the wharf, more by the character of the missionaries 
 than by the rarity of a missionary embarkation, the 
 canvass was given to the breeze. 
 
 The ocean seems to have presented no terrors to 
 Mrs. Judson; or, if it did, her friends were not per- 
 mitted to know of the fact. Her mind was alert to 
 learn something from the untried element, trusting 
 herself to the protection of Him who made it. She 
 even enjoyed its deep and frightful movements; her 
 heart bounding, like the vessel upon its mighty waves. 
 She received the experience as a poet and romance 
 writer might have been expected to do, and gave her 
 friends the benefit of it, as a different mind, lacking 
 sensibility and power of depicting an ocean scene, 
 could not have done. Her imagination and academy 
 studies were a means to exhilaration and profit from 
 the voyage. Her lengthy letter to the Columbian 
 Magazine, written en -voyage, is one of the finest and 
 fullest in the ocean literature of her time. Not the 
 deep only, but also the inhabitants of the deep, and 
 the feathered tribes which play upon it, and the chang- 
 ing heavens in the various latitudes — all came under 
 the descriptive power of her versatile pen. 
 
 It seems that St. Helena, upon which was buried 
 the sainted one whom she had engaged to memorialize, 
 
104 EMIIvY C. JUDSON. 
 
 did not lie exactly in the ship's path, yet the vessel 
 sailed sufficiently near to it to make it seem a present 
 object and to revive the scenes of the death and burial, 
 that continued to affect her deeply. And there she 
 penned a poetic soliloquy of a high degree of merit, in 
 which she expressed her feelings and paid honor to the 
 departed. * 
 
 The voyage was not without its storms and perils, 
 nor did Mrs. Judson escape seasickness and other ills. 
 Dr. Judson, in referring to the experiences of the way, 
 said : " She suffered indeed less from seasickness than 
 we had apprehended ; but the cold air of the sea, dur- 
 ing most of the voyage, has not been congenial to her 
 temperament and constitution." She makes no allu- 
 sion to these ills, but is absorbed in the glories of Old 
 Ocean, as he performs his feats in her presence. She 
 says : " There is a deal of fun rn a heavy gale like this, 
 during the first day, but it becomes a rack after a 
 while. * * * This gale has probably been the 
 grandest sight that we shall have the pleasure of be- 
 holding. The sea lashed into perfect fury, rising and 
 sinking in strange contortions, wresting our little float- 
 ing nut-shell from the hands of the crew, to leap, and 
 plunge, and wrestle, as though born of the mad bil- 
 lows which bellow as they rise, and, bursting, cover it 
 with their foam." (Off Cape Good Hope.) 
 
 After about four and a half months of prosperous 
 sailing, Dr. and Mrs. Judson, with Miss L,illybridge 
 and other new missionaries, landed at Amherst, a his- 
 toric locality in foreign mission affairs, of perpetual 
 interest. Mrs. Judson had just the mind for seeing the 
 country — " queer, ridiculous, half-beautiful, half-fright- 
 
 * Memorial of Sarah B. Judson, page 170. 
 
A MEMORIAL. 105 
 
 ful, exceedingly picturesque Burmah." It was worth 
 one salary to have the old empire fully seen and im- 
 pressively described. Her first letter to her sister Kate 
 draws back the curtain and exposes Burmese life as it 
 was first met and needed to be known forty years ago. 
 Subsequent letters continue the detailed statement 
 of commonplace things, which every reader loves to 
 know, and they are so piquant as to take away the 
 stigma of dullness that rests upon much of the mis- 
 sionary literature of her time. 
 
 Amherst, however, was not the destined abiding 
 place and field of the missionaries ; it had long since 
 been given up as less promising than other places. 
 And after spending a very few days here, sufficient 
 only for a visit and a revival of precious memories 
 and scenes of twenty years before, things were in readi- 
 ness for departure to Maulmain, twenty-five miles up 
 the Salwen. 
 
 "Our boat," says Mrs. Judson, "was very much 
 like a long watering-trough, whittled to a point at each 
 end, and we were all nestled, like a parcel of caged 
 fowls, under a low bamboo cover, from which it was 
 not easy to look out. But the shore, alongside which 
 we were pushed up stream by the might of muscle, 
 was brilliant with its unpruned luxuriance of verdure, 
 and birds, and flowers. 
 
 "Here some strange tree dropped its long trailers 
 to the water; there the white rice-bird, or a gayer 
 stranger, with chameleon neck and crimson wing, 
 coquetted with its neighbor, and the wealth of green, 
 bending below ; and then followed rich blossoms of 
 new shapes and hues, and bearing new names, some 
 in clusters, and some in long, amber wreaths, stained 
 
106 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 here and there with lemon and vermilion, and all bear- 
 ing that air of slumberous richness characteristic of the 
 Indian climate. Our oarsmen were Amherst Chris- 
 tians, who seemed as wild with joy as the birds them- 
 selves, (not that they were particularly bird-like in any 
 other respect,) and there was laughing and chattering 
 enough to make any heart merry. The first, being a 
 universal language, I had no difficulty in understand- 
 ing, but the latter sounded to me even more outlandish 
 than their gaudy patsoes (wraps), bare, bra,wny shoul- 
 ders, and turbaned heads appeared to the eye." 
 
 After some hours of such up-stream travel, Maul- 
 main was reached, the capital of the newly acquired 
 British territory. It had already enjoyed the presence 
 and civilizing influence of English residents, and thus 
 was a very moderately heathen city. It also had been 
 favored with missionary labors, quite constantly, for 
 nearly twenty years ; hence it was a comparatively 
 favorable place at which to introduce to heathendom a 
 young wife of cultivated tastes. Here, too, was Dr. Jud- 
 son's established residence and work, and, consequent- 
 ly, the home in the view of Mrs. Judson at the time of 
 her engagement and marriage. To this place she had 
 voyaged, with some trembling and tears on the way 
 in view of her new responsibilities ; and now, with the 
 semi-circumference of the globe between her and her 
 former ties, she assumes the post of mother and teacher. 
 She meets Henry and Edward, henceforward her sons ; 
 and she finds a new grave at which to weep — the grave 
 of little Charlie, who here passed away at the time 
 his parents were nearing St. Helena, on their way 
 to America. 
 
A MEMORIAL. 107 
 
 IX. 
 
 fettling— green turban's den 
 
 The earth shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord, as the 
 •waters cover the sea. — Isaiah ii : 9. 
 
 Ply the lever, pioneers ! 
 
 Many a waiting angel cheers ; 
 
 Christ above is interceding, 
 
 Here the Holy Ghost is pleading, 
 And the promise of Jehovah 
 Stands upon His blessed book. 
 Mrs. E. C. Judson — "Song of Maulmain." 
 
 IT was November 30, 1846, and but two days after 
 anchoring at Amherst, that Mrs. Judson stepped 
 into Maulmain, one of the places that had haunted her 
 visions and aroused her sympathies in early years. It 
 was now a place .to be known and an arena for her 
 powers. Unlike missionaries before her, she came to 
 a church and an occupied home; not to unbroken 
 pagan soil, nor with a husband as unskilled as herself 
 in means of intercourse. In these particulars her 
 advantages were much better than those of sister 
 missionaries. 
 
 Dr. Judson, some days after settling, writes : " I have 
 set up housekeeping in my old house ; and it seems 
 like home, notwithstanding the devastation that death 
 and removal have made. Emily makes one of the 
 best of wives and kindest mothers to the children that 
 
108 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 ever man was blessed with. I wish you were here to 
 make one of the family; but I suppose that can not 
 be." 
 
 Mrs. Judson must have had a keen sensitiveness to 
 the experiences of her husband in returning to his old 
 home after the changes of a year and a half, which 
 included a round trip to the United States, meetings 
 and partings, death and marriage, the separation of his 
 children, with the ocean rolling between them, and the 
 loss of the ideal wife and mother who here bore his 
 children, and who for ten years and more was the 
 light of his rude dwelling. It required an effort for 
 even so strong a man as Dr. Judson to rise above his 
 feelings, notwithstanding the fact that the blessing 
 which had flown, brightening as it took its flight, was 
 so well compensated for in the one that had come. 
 Yes, the new wife must bear a share of the affliction. 
 Her husband writes to the sons at Worcester, Mass. : 
 
 " I can hardly realize that I am sitting in the old 
 house where we all lived together so long ; and now 
 your mamma, yourselves, your sister Abby Ann, and 
 little Charlie are gone. It is now evening. I am 
 writing in the hall where I used to sit and study when 
 your mamma had gone down to the coast with Captain 
 and Mrs. Durand. Your new mamma has just put 
 your little brothers Henry and Edward to bed. They 
 lie in the room where you used to sleep before you 
 removed to the corner room. Henry is singing and 
 talking aloud to himself; and what do you think he 
 is saying? Your new mamma just called me to listen: 
 ' My own mamma went away — away in a boat. And 
 then she got wings and went up. And Charlie, too, 
 
A MEMORIAL. IO9 
 
 went up, and they are flying above the moon and 
 stars.' " 
 
 A delicious pain attends such domestic pleasant- 
 ness, and Fanny Forester was a person to sip the 
 sweetness and taste the bitterness of it. She assumed 
 her duties in a womanly way, yet with extreme mod- 
 esty. In contemplating attendance upon a woman's 
 meeting, shortly after her settlement, she speaks of 
 " the awkwardness inseparable from my (her) appear- 
 ance in a company of matrons, where I feel as though 
 I had no right to be. I shall be thankful, my dear 
 Mrs. Stevens, for any advice you or the loved sisters 
 who will meet with you to-day, can give me ; for I 
 know that I am utterly unfitted for this sweet burden 
 which God has laid upon my heart and hands. Please 
 ask them for their prayers." 
 
 With the opening of the new year, 1847, she was 
 thoroughly installed in her home and work. Her jour- 
 nal is full of humorous entries, such as a poet just 
 entering upon housekeeping might be expected to 
 make. For example : " It seems to me as though I do 
 nothing but get up, turn around and then go to bed 
 again! I believe there never was such a novice in 
 housekeeping; and then the children, and the lan- 
 guage, and the thousand and one other botherations ! 
 I expected to make a rush at the language, take it by 
 storm, then get a parcel of natives about me and go to 
 work in ' true apostolic style.' * * * This taking 
 care of teething babies, and teaching darkies to darn 
 stockings, and talking English back end foremost to 
 teetotum John, in order to get an eatable dinner, is 
 really very odd sort of business for Fanny Forester. 
 
I IO EMII,Y C. JUDSON. 
 
 I wonder what my respectable friends of the anti-F. F. 
 school would say, if they could see my madamly airs. 
 But I begin to get reconciled to my minute cares. I 
 believe women were made for such things; though, 
 when I get settled, I hope to put in a mixture of high- 
 er and better things, too. But the person who would 
 do great things well, must practice daily on little ones ; 
 and she who would have the assistance of the Almighty . 
 in important acts, must be daily and hourly accustomed 
 to consult His will in the minor affairs of life. * * 
 O, how I rejoice that I am out of the whirlpool! Too 
 gay, too trifling for a missionary's wife! That may 
 be ; but, after all, gayety is my lightest sin." 
 
 Scarcely was the family housed in Maulmain ere 
 the question of removal to Rangoon began to be con- 
 sidered, in earnest. Dr. Judson could not forget his 
 first mooring place, a third of a century before ; and 
 though at this time there was not a missionary in that 
 place, no church, no certainty of toleration, yet he be- 
 lieved that there were souls there " groping in the dark 
 and feeling after the truth," and his soul yearned for 
 their salvation. It was the capital of Burmah proper, 
 which lay just across the gulf of Martaban, west, and 
 Stretched away to the north. After about six weeks in 
 Maulmain he went to Rangoon on a reconnoitering 
 expedition, leaving Emily to her first experience of 
 his absence : " All alone, and so lonely ! My life is one 
 continued heart-ache, for I continually feel as though 
 he was dead. My family worship is broken by tears, 
 for it is his business ; and when I attempt to bless the 
 food at meals, my voice sometimes utterly fails. Alone, 
 with the children about me, and trying to fill his place, 
 I feel widowed indeed." 
 
A MEMORIAL. Ill 
 
 She tooK great interest in the projected removal to 
 Rangoon, yet only because she felt that her husband 
 was needed there more than in Maulmain. To her it 
 involved new sacrifices. In a letter to Mrs. Gillette, 
 of Philadelphia, she said: "Were we to settle down 
 in this house with the comforts we should be able to 
 secure, the pleasant English and missionary families 
 about us, although in a very different condition from a 
 pastor's family at home, my taste would be gratified, 
 and I should, as far as the things of this world are con- 
 cerned, be perfectly happy. But that is not to be. My 
 conscience will not allow me to remain in delightful 
 Maulmain while there is the slightest hope of my hus- 
 band being able, by going to a place of danger and pri- 
 vation, to do anything for the miserable nation, at the 
 door of which we are standing. I am not myself made 
 for great things, but when I see his heart turning that 
 way, I can say ' go,' and when the trials come, I know 
 I can cheer and comfort him. As soon as I can get a 
 few words of the language — a couple of months, per- 
 haps — we shall put off to Rangoon, and there wait an 
 opportunity to creep into Ava." 
 
 This is the same spirit that characterized Sarah 
 B. Judson — anywhere for souls. She had surrendered 
 home and country, fame and fortune, and she would 
 not now stop to compare the degrees of comfort or 
 discomfort in selecting a place of abode, but base all 
 calculations on the probabilities of usefulness to the 
 heathen. In this movement, so soon after settlement, 
 there was already a certainty that a change to Ran- 
 goon would bring a loss of congenial society — English, 
 
112 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 missionaries and an interesting native church — while 
 it might involve persecution and death, on account of 
 the opposition of the intriguing priesthood and the 
 despotic, pagan government, to the new religion. 
 
 In February, 1847, about three months after arriv- 
 ing at Maulmain, Mrs. Judson had the not uncommon 
 experience of housekeepers — an experience of moving. 
 Her husband had searched all Rangoon for a suitable 
 house, aided by his former acquaintance with the place, 
 and had succeeded only in obtaining an unsuitable one. 
 For it the owner demanded 100 Rs. (rupees) per month, 
 but finally concluded to take 50 Rs.- — $300 a year for 
 the upper part of a brick house, having but few lights 
 and gloomy as a prison ! He shrank from taking her 
 into such a den, fearing that she might pine and die 
 there. They, however, accepted the situation, and it 
 so awakened in Mrs. Judson the sense of the uncouth, 
 of the awful, the ugly, the ludicrous, that she seems to 
 have been carried above all feeling of horror at the 
 prospect of living in such a den, and to have turned . 
 upon it with a pen of pleasantry, if not of poetic jus- 
 tice, and to have given her friends an example of de- 
 scriptive writing seldom excelled. 
 
 This house was called " Green Turban's Den" for 
 the owner, and also named "Bat Castle" by Mrs. Jud- 
 son, for reasons found in her description of it. It must 
 have been satisfying to her to find an opportunity, at 
 once, for showing to friends her real domestic life in 
 India, with some of her pets. The following letter to 
 her sister will stand well in the best descriptive writ- 
 ings from the East, and will be much enjoyed. 
 
A MEMORIAL 113 
 
 Bat Castle (Rangoon), March. 15, 1847. 
 Dear Kitty: 
 
 I write you from walls as massive as any you read of 
 in old stories, and a great deal uglier — the very eye-ball and 
 heart-core of an old white-bearded Mussulman. Think of 
 one in an immense brick house with rooms as large as the 
 entire "loggery," (our center room is twice as large, and 
 has no window,) and only one small window apiece. When 
 I speak of windows, do not think 1 make any allusion to 
 glass — of course not. The windows (holes) are closed by 
 means of heavy board or plank shutters, tinned over on 
 the outside, as a preventive of fire. The bamboo houses 
 of the natives here are like flax or tinder, and the foreign- 
 ers, who have more than the one cloth which Burmans 
 wrap about the body, and the mat they sleep on, dare live 
 in nothing but brick. Imagine us, then, on the second 
 floor of this immense den, with nine rooms at our com- 
 mand, the smallest of which (bathing-room and a kind of 
 pantry) is, I think, quite as large as your dining-room, 
 and the rest very much larger. Part of the floors are of 
 brick, and part of boards ; but old " Green Turban " white- 
 washed them all, with the walls, before we came, because 
 the Doctor told him, when he was over here, that he "must 
 make the house shine for madam." He did make it shine 
 with a vengeance, between white-washing and greasing. 
 They oil furniture in this country, as Americans do mahog- 
 any ; but all his doors and other wood-work were fairly 
 dripping, and we have not got rid of the smell yet ; nor, 
 with all our rubbing, is it quite safe to hold too long on 
 the door. The partitions are all of brick, and very thick, 
 and the door-sills are built up, so that I go over them at 
 three or four steps. Henry mounts and falls off, and Ed- 
 ward gets on all fours, and accomplishes the pass with 
 more safety. The floor overhead is quite low, and the 
 beams, which are frequent, afford shelter to thousands 
 
114 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 and thousands of bats, that disturb us in the day-time 
 only by a little cricket-like music, but in the night — Oh, 
 if you could only hear them carouse ! The mosquito cur- 
 tains are our only safeguard ; and getting up is horrible. 
 The other night I awoke faint, with a feeling of suffoca- 
 tion ; and, without waiting to think, jumped out on the 
 floor. You would have thought " old Nick " himself had 
 come after you, for, of course, you believe these firm friends 
 of the ladies of the broomstick incipient imps. If there is 
 nothing wickeder about them than about the little spar- 
 rows that come in immense swarms to the same beams, 
 pray what do they do all through the hours of darkness, 
 and why do they circle and whrz about a poor mortal's 
 head, flap their villainous wings in one's face, and then 
 whisk away, as if snickering at the annoyance ? We have 
 had men at work nearly a week trying to thin them out, 
 and have killed a great many hundreds, but I suppose 
 their little demoniacal souls come back, each with an at- 
 tendant, for I am sure there are twice as many as at first. 
 Everything, walls, tables, chairs, etc., are stained by them. 
 Besides the bats, we are blessed with our full share of 
 cockroaches, beetles, spiders, lizards, rats, ants, mosquitoes 
 and bed-bugs. With the last the wood-work is all alive, 
 and the ants troop over the house in great droves, though 
 there are scattering ones beside. Perhaps twenty have 
 crossed my paper since I have been writing. Only one 
 cockroach has paid me a visit, but the neglect of these 
 gentlemen has been fully made up by a company of black 
 bugs about the size of the end of your little finger — name- 
 less adventurers. Emily. 
 
 Dr. Judson, two weeks previous, had also regaled 
 his friends with an account of the bats, mentioning, 
 especially, a raid made upon them: "We have had a 
 grand bat hunt yesterday and to-day — bagged two 
 
A MEMORIAL. 115 
 
 ♦ 
 
 hundred and fifty, and calculate to make up a round 
 thousand before we have done. We find that in hiring 
 the upper story of this den we secured the lower moi- 
 ety only, the upper moiety thereof being pre-occupied 
 by s. thriving colony of vagabonds, who flare up 
 through the night with a vengeance, and the sound of 
 their wings is as the sound of many waters, yea, as the 
 sound of your boasted Yankee Niagara ; so that sleep 
 departs from our eyes and slumber from our eyelids.. 
 But we are reading them some lessons which we 
 hope will be profitable to all parties concerned."* 
 
 From the foregoing account it will readily be in- 
 ferred that housekeeping in Bat Castle was not entire- 
 ly such as the ordinary woman enjoys. Mrs. Judson's 
 surroundings and experiences provoked something 
 else than mirth, at least occasionally. Though she may 
 be said to have had the novelty of the young wife's 
 housekeeping, it is evident that she would have pre- 
 ferred it in limited quantity. With the chirp of the bats 
 there came the moans of sick children, her own illness- 
 es and those of Dr. Judson, and the domestic training 
 of quite a number. 
 
 Miss Lillybridge remained in Maulmain, and she 
 was without her company and sympathy. Dr. Judson 
 engaged with zeal in the work of completing the dic- 
 tionary, and she undertook the preparation of the 
 Memoir of Sarah B. Judson. To accomplish the latter 
 work she was compelled to suspend, for a short time, 
 
 ^In the exhibition of " Burtnan Curios," in December, 1889, by Mrs. 
 Ingalls, the queen of the voracious White Ants of India was shown. She 
 has the form, color and size of a large grub-worm. The importance of 
 her regency is seen in the fact that if found and destroyed her millions of 
 subjects disappear within one or two hours. 
 
Il6 BMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 the study of the native language. It was important 
 that the book appear at once, and so, sick or well, she 
 wrought upon the manuscript with remarkable dili- 
 gence. And, as proof of her ability also, it is stated 
 that she "completed the work in six weeks after com- 
 mencing the examination of the papers." 
 
 In removing from Maulmain, from a partially civil- 
 ized community to one in which the suspicions and 
 rapacity of the despotic government knew no bounds, 
 the missionaries had stored the most and best of their 
 goods, believing that they would be safer in that city 
 than in Rangoon. They left them in two places ; the 
 more valuable portion, it seems, with Rev. E. A. Ste- 
 vens, a most sympathizing friend and an eminent mis- 
 sionary of that day. What was their grief to learn, very 
 soon, that these best things — best clothes and most val- 
 uable goods, many of them presents from dear friends 
 in America — through the work of an incendiary had 
 been reduced to ashes. Such tidings are not particu- 
 larly enjoyed by a woman, especially not by one who is 
 in a foreign land and unaccustomed to such losses. 
 
 Another trial of a serious nature was the low state 
 of the cause. One-third of a century had passed since 
 Dr. Judson undertook to plant the good seed of the 
 Gospel in Rangoon; and what was there now to be 
 found as the fruit and reward of his travail of soul? 
 About twenty nominal Christians, and not one-half of 
 them in a good spiritual condition. He found four 
 who united with himself and wife in renewing the 
 covenant and forming a new church. And now, such 
 was the jealousy of the government, he must appear 
 simply as "a minister of a foreign religion, ministering 
 
A MEMORIAL. 117 
 
 to foreign residents in the place, and as a dictionary 
 maker, laboring to promote the welfare of both coun- 
 tries." If he tries to save anybody, he must do so 
 secretly. 
 
 The fitness of Mrs. Judson for her position now 
 appears. While her husband is cast down by the pros- 
 pect, she comes to his rescue. He walks up and down 
 her room with clouded face, while she lays the assur- 
 ances of the Divine Word upon his mind and heart. 
 At last, being nearly exhausted in resources, she 
 turned upon him with a quotation which she learned 
 before she could read, and afterwards wrote every- 
 where, sometimes at the top of the page when prepar- 
 ing a story " on whose success more depended than its 
 readers ever dreamed." He listened : 
 
 " Beware of desperate steps ; trie darkest day, 
 (Live till to-morrow), will have passed away." 
 
 "'I declare,' said he with energy, and his whole 
 face brightening, ' if I could only believe in transmi- 
 gration, I should have no doubt that we had spent ages 
 together in some other sphere, we are so alike in every- 
 thing. Why, those two lines have been my motto ; I 
 used to repeat them over and over in prison, and I 
 have them now, written on a slip of paper, for a book- 
 mark.' He stood a few moments, thinking and smil- 
 ing, and then said: 'Well, one thing you didn't do: 
 you never wrote "Pray without ceasing" on the cov- 
 er of your wafer box.' 'No, but I wrote it on my look- 
 ing-glass.'" The woman who can adroitly lead her 
 husband away from the Slough of Despond has at 
 least one important qualification to be a missionary's 
 wife. 
 
Il8 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 Mrs. Judson suffered considerably from want of 
 good food. At one time she said she was " within an 
 inch of starvation." No good bread. "Make it? What 
 shall I make it of? — or a biscuit, or pie, or anything 
 good? And when it is made of nothing, what shall I 
 bake it in?" 
 
 During the rains she suffered much in various 
 ways. Being obliged to sit directly before the window 
 in order to see, she was seriously affected by the damp 
 air. Dr. Judson suffered rheumatism, and she was ut- 
 terly prostrated ; not able to sit up an hour at a time 
 for six weeks. The wooden ceiling was covered with 
 a green mould. Yet, with her table at the side of her 
 couch, she went on with the memoir, writing a few 
 lines at a time, lying down in the intervals. 
 
 While so ill, and so hungry for a "bite" that she 
 might relish — " changing the milk woman often, but 
 only to get the same mixture of buffalo's milk, water 
 and something else" — the doctor insisted that she 
 must have something she could eat, else she would 
 starve. The Bazaar-man and the cook fixed up a meal 
 that she relished greatly, and on being urged to tell 
 what the meat was, replied with laughter, "Rats!" 
 
 By the middle of June troubles of many kinds -had 
 settled upon the mission. It was watched by the gov- 
 ernment aiid plotted against by Catholic priests. Both 
 Dr. and Mrs. Judson were seriously ill, and sickness 
 and funeral processions were the order of the day 
 throughout the town ; " the constant tap-tap of nailing 
 up coffins in the night was dreadful," and the music 
 and screeching of the mourners still more horrible. 
 To this add the severe sickness of both of the boys, 
 
A MEMORIAL. 119 
 
 and it will be understood why Mrs. Judson was met 
 by her husband "with red eyes and voice all tremu- 
 lous with weeping" as he declared that he had never 
 before looked on so discouraging a prospect. But she 
 had seen occasions of darkness before, and now the 
 heroism cultivated amid the distresses of her home-life 
 in New York served a good purpose, and seems to 
 have been superior for the moment to that of the one 
 on whom she leaned for strength. She calmly shared 
 with him, also, the disappointment experienced in not 
 obtaining provision of means with which to make 
 another expedition to Ava, the capital of the Empire, 
 to obtain toleration from the government. This project 
 was supreme in his mind, and entered into the whole 
 plan of removal to Rangoon. He now began to think 
 of returning to Maulmain. 
 
 While in Rangoon Mrs. Judson had some rare ex- 
 periences with the reminiscences of early mission work. 
 Here was the beginning of American missions, just one 
 third of a century previous. Of Rangoon, of the first 
 baptism, the intrepid Ann Hasseltine Judson, whose 
 name had been passed in loving reverence around the 
 Christian world, the death of the only child, the almost 
 fatal cruise of her husband for health, protracted to a 
 year and devoid of the means of sending back a sylla- 
 ble of intelligence, and the various contentions for a 
 foothold for the Gospel — all had been among her early 
 readings, and had inspired her, when but eleven years 
 of age, with a missionary spirit. Now she goes over 
 the old field of trial and triumph, and lives, for the 
 hour, with those into whose inheritance of love and 
 suffering she has entered. 
 
120 EMII<Y C. JUDSON. 
 
 She visited the waters that were parted by the bap- 
 tism of the first Burman convert, at that memorable 
 sunset. "I could not," she wrote, "if I were to at- 
 tempt it, give anything like an insight into my feelings 
 as I stood under the shadow of the cocoa and lime 
 trees on the banks of that beautiful pool, and gazed 
 down into the clear waters. How angels must have 
 rejoiced over that penitent ! the first link in a precious 
 chain which is to reach down to the remotest times !" 
 
 She also visited the site of the old mission house. 
 The building had been torn down after the war, and 
 the place was now covered by a garden of betel, so 
 thickly planted that one could with difficulty make his 
 way among the long creepers that climbed above the 
 head. Dr. Judson, conducting her through the grounds, 
 found it somewhat difficult to identify all the points. 
 Mrs. Judson describes the visit with pathetic emotion : 
 
 A plainly dressed, sober-faced, middle-aged Burman had 
 been regarding our movements for some time with curios- 
 ity, and he now ventured on a remark. 
 
 " I am looking for a good well from which I drank 
 water many years ago," was the reply. "It was close by 
 my house and was bricked up.'' 
 
 " Your house ! " repeated the man with astonishment. 
 
 " Yes, I lived here formerly." 
 
 The Burman turned his eye on the tall betel vines with 
 a kind of wondering incredulity, and then back upon our 
 faces. 
 
 " It was in the reign of Bo-dan-parah," (the fourth king 
 from the present reigning monarch.) 
 
 If, my dear Mr. Bright, some modern looking person 
 should walk into your parlor and announce himself as the 
 " Wandering Jew," I doubt whether your smile and shrug 
 
A MEMORIAL. 121 
 
 would be quite so significant as were those of our new 
 friend. There was the well, however, a proof against im- 
 posture ; and the next moment it was evidently so regard- 
 ed by the Burman, for he led the way to it without speak- 
 ing. It was a large, square well— the bricks all green with 
 moss, or silvered by lichens — almost as good as new, and 
 quite superior to anything in the neighborhood. It could 
 not be looked upon without some emotion ; and the man 
 stood by us, listening to all our remarks as though he 
 hoped to hear something he might understand ; and when 
 we went away he followed a little, and then stood and 
 gazed after us in wondering silence. 
 
 Another of our visiting places was the but half-inclosed 
 neglected English grave-yard. The first child of Europe- 
 an parents born in Burtnah had been buried there ; and 
 there was a strong tie between the mouldering little one 
 and ourselves. Over the grave of little Roger stood, but 
 slightly broken, the rude brick monument which was built 
 thirty-three years ago ; and a tall azalia, very much like 
 those which perfume the forests of our New York, had 
 grown out from the base, almost overshadowing it. It was 
 strange to stand and muse beside that little grave, with 
 one parent by my side, and the other so irrecoverably a 
 being of the past. Oh, how she had wept there ! — and 
 how human she grew ! — she whom I had formerly only 
 wondered at — -while my own tears started in sympathy. 
 
 One might almost envy the romance of Alderbrook 
 for the delicious melancholy of that hour, were there 
 first a capacity, like hers, to entertain it. It was of 
 brief continuance, however, and her seven month's stay 
 in Rangoon but an episode in her eventful career. The 
 time was well occupied in training her household, and, 
 after writing the memoir, in qualifying herself for 
 reaching the benighted souls about her. But that city 
 
122 EMII/ST C. JUDSON. 
 
 did not yet present the open door to the Burman em- 
 pire that Dr. Judson hoped for, and he sorrowfully 
 turned away, and with his family went back to Maul- 
 main. At the time of this writing, however, Rangoon 
 contains fully 4,750 Baptists; more in proportion to 
 population than the average American city. It also 
 has schools, printing-houses, and other elements of 
 civilization, 
 
A MEMORIAL. I23 
 
 X. 
 plttttlntrtin— THREE YEARS THERE. 
 
 "It may be in a diviner care, 
 
 Transfigured and made pure, 
 The harvest, which we deemed wholly lost, 
 Waits, perfect and mature. 
 And the faint heart that now defeated grieves 
 May yet stand smiling 'mid abundant sheaves." 
 
 IT was early in September when the Judsons arrived 
 again in Maulmain to take up the thread of toil 
 there'so recently dropped. At that time there were in 
 the place twenty-four missionaries, male and female. 
 So large a collection in one town, in that day of felt 
 scarcity of laborers, was not only strange, but a griev- 
 ance to Dr. Judson, in which his wife shared. . They 
 had been ready to carry the Gospel to Ava also, but 
 were hindered, for some wise reason, and now they 
 quieted down to the routine of home-life and study, 
 awaiting the leadings of Providence. 
 
 As the year came to a close, on December 24, 1847, 
 they became the happy parents of a daughter. It was 
 Mrs. Judson's first-born, and the event gave her a 
 thrill of delight. While it enkindled in her heart grat- 
 itude to God for the precious gift, it likewise stirred 
 the spirit of song, and was the occasion of one of her 
 most beautiful poems. To a poet of her class a babe 
 is a poem, lacking only versification. And so deeply 
 was the fountain moved at this time that its finest 
 
124 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 sparkle was given forth. The little one took her place 
 in the Family Record as Emily Frances, while for the 
 pleasure of the reading world she was immortalized as 
 " My Bird." The following are the lines : 
 
 MY BIRD. 
 
 Ere last year's moon had left the sky, 
 A birdling sought my Indian nest, 
 
 And folded, O, so lovingly ! 
 
 Her tiny wings upon my breast. 
 
 From morn till evening's purple tinge 
 In winsome helplessness she lies; 
 
 Two rose leaves, with a silken fringe, 
 Shut softly on her starry eyes. 
 
 There's not in Ind a lovelier bird ; 
 
 Broad earth owns not a happier nest ; 
 O God, thou hast a fountain stirred, 
 
 Whose waters nevermore shall rest ! 
 
 This beautiful, mysterious thing, 
 This seeming visitant from heaven, 
 
 This bird with the immortal wing, 
 To me — to me Thy hand has given. 
 
 The pulse first caught its tiny stroke, 
 The blood its crimson hue, from mine ; 
 
 This life, which I have dared invoke, 
 Henceforth is parallel with thine. 
 
 A silent awe is in my room ; 
 
 I tremble with delicious fear ; 
 The future, with its light and gloom, — 
 
 Time and Eternity are here. 
 
 Doubts — hopes in eager tumult rise 
 Hear, O my God ! one earnest praj 
 
 Room for my bird in Paradise, 
 And give her angel plumage there, 
 
 prayer : 
 
c? 
 
 :<£. 
 
 {Mrs. T.A. T. Hanna, Phi/a.) 
 
A MEMORIAL. 125 
 
 It is seen that each line is not only fraught with a 
 very delicate sentiment, but also contains a most ten- 
 der appreciation of the honors and responsibilities of 
 motherhood. In reading it, one can but wish that 
 every mother were a Christian poet. And as this 
 "Bird" is followed in her career to the present time, 
 and is found happily domesticated as a pastor's wife, 
 and chirping amid a full nest of birds of her own, it is 
 seen how the impress of the hand that was removed, 
 and the contact of the heart that was stilled when she 
 was less than seven years of age, determined even then 
 the character of this beautiful mother. 
 
 It is a great gratification to the author to be able to 
 give a picture of Mrs. Hanna, as she appeared at about 
 the age of twenty-two. With only a little more ma- 
 tured look now, her appearance is the same as then. 
 
 The year 1848 dawned auspiciously upon thejud- 
 son home. All were quite well, and, except- that Dr. 
 Judson was still stinging under his disappointment in 
 not getting to the heart of the Burman Empire, were 
 quite happy. Their home, after returning to Maul- 
 main, was fixed at some distance from the chapel, in 
 order that Dr. Judson might keep aloof from pas- 
 toral concerns and attachments, and thus render it 
 easy for him to leave if the way should open for him 
 to go to Ava. Then, as the prospect seemed to close 
 entirely, they removed to their former home; the 
 same that was occupied by the family when the second 
 wife was living. 
 
 Mrs. Judson's life in Rangoon, brief as it was, re- 
 sulted in the writing of the Memoir of Sarah B. Jud- 
 son, which has had an influential place in missionary 
 
126 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 annals. It was written in the style peculiar to the 
 author, and had a large circulation. And though this 
 work and the illness of herself and family stood in the 
 way of constant study of the language, yet she enjoyed 
 some opportunity for learning it, and had the faculty 
 of acquiring it rapidly. In Maulmain, life flows on 
 with added family cares, and new efforts to accomplish 
 something bearing directly on the progress of the 
 mission. 
 
 She was now dwelling near the Burman church, 
 and though her husband did not again assume the full 
 pastorate she was privileged, as the health of the family 
 permitted, to conduct prayer-meetings of native females 
 and class exercises in the Scriptures. To this labor 
 she added a special work — the completion of her pred- 
 ecessor's series of Scripture Questions on historical 
 parts of the New Testament. And Dr. Judson ex- 
 pressed the hope that "the young romancer" might 
 yet "come to some good." 
 
 Doubtless she was still annoyed by adverse opin- 
 ions as to her fitness for her position. The state of 
 missionary sentiment in America was not yet such as 
 to preclude unfavorable criticism, even without occa- 
 sion. She had done well for the time and opportunity 
 granted; still a sister missionary, Mrs. Brayton, took 
 up her cause, as is evident from the following extract 
 of a letter to her, acknowledging her thoughtful kind- 
 ness, dated nearly two years after her marriage : 
 
 " I fully appreciate your kindness in ' advocating 
 my cause,' but, after all, my dear sister, of what conse- 
 quence are the opinions of men ? Why should I spend 
 the few precious hours allotted me here in trying to 
 
A MEMORIAL. 127 
 
 convince people away in America that I am a good 
 missionary? If I walk humbly and prayerfully before 
 God, try to do all the good in my power, and leave my 
 reputation in His hands, I am not afraid that I shall 
 suffer. But for this trust I should scarce have vent- 
 ured to put myself in a position to be criticised, as I 
 very well knew I was doing when I consented to come 
 to Burmah. Formerly I used the little talent that 
 God had given me for what I believed a legitimate 
 object, and I can but believe I was blessed in so doing. 
 As soon as that object was accomplished, He opened a 
 wider field of usefulness, and I entered it. That I am 
 unfit for the work I very well know ; that I may be 
 fitted for it I daily pray. But will it fit me any better 
 — shall I be any more diligent and prayerful, if I dis- 
 tract my mind and divide my attention between what 
 Americans think of me, and what Burmans think of 
 my Savior? No, no, my dear sister. Though many 
 may think ill of me, I already have more credit than I 
 deserve, and my little, small, insignificant self is not 
 worth the ink that would be wasted on a vindication, 
 explanation, or whatever you may choose to call it." 
 
 Just as this biography was being sent to the print- 
 ers, the author received the following extract of a let- 
 ter from Mrs. Wade to Mrs. O'Brien, in this country, 
 incidentally giving the view of one of the wisest and 
 most experienced of missionaries : 
 
 Tavoy, February 25, 1847. 
 My own beloved Sister: 
 
 * * * Brother Judson returned to us with improved 
 
 health, and had gone to Rangoon, when Mr. Wade went to 
 
 Maulmain to take our sweet little girls (Mr. Mason's) to 
 
128 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 sister Brayton, who is to take them home. Mr. Wade was 
 pleased 'with our new sister Judson, as all the friends are at 
 Maulmain, as far as I have been able to learn. Her health 
 has been our greatest cause for anxiety, but Mr. Wade says 
 she looks pretty well now. As it regards her age, people 
 at home can not know how unwise it would have been for 
 him to have brought a wife of a "suitable age" to this 
 country, to be obliged to speak a new language and adapt 
 herself to such a strange people. Our beloved brother 
 knew what he was doing, and I think time will prove that 
 he chose wisely. 
 
 Her facility in learning and in using the dialect of 
 the natives has been mentioned as remarkable; and 
 this is further indicated by the earliness at which she 
 employed it for their benefit. It is said that " she 
 entered with hearty sympathy into her husband's dry 
 dictionary labors, and not only solaced his hours of 
 relaxation, but aided with her acute suggestions in 
 resolving many a knotty word-problem ; while she her- 
 self attained a practical mastery of the Burmese lan- 
 guage, and even an elegance in writing it, entirely 
 beyond what could have been anticipated from the 
 exceeding slenderness of her health, and her engross- 
 ing domestic cares." 
 
 As the year 1848 drew to a close, thick clouds gath- 
 ered about her home. Of these she was not so fully 
 conscious as were others, because they were occasioned 
 by her own illness ; a circumstance less serious to her 
 view, obviously, than to others. A pony was pur- 
 chased and exercise in the saddle was tried as a rem- 
 edy, but only for one week. Then she declined very 
 rapidly. A trip to Tavoy was next tried. But after a 
 
A MEMORIAL. 129 
 
 week, in which she did not go out, nor realize any 
 essential change for the better, she returned to Maul- 
 main "in a serious plight." After some time, in which 
 much attention was given by friends to her state and 
 needs, she partially recovered and felt quite hopeful 
 for the future. 
 
 For nearly five months she had been unable to 
 read aloud or to talk continuously, and as the native 
 tongue is retained only by using the voice, she lost 
 very much in the language. This was an occasion of 
 grief to her, but she had learned not to expect to 
 make rapid headway, and to submit to the divine 
 pleasure. Her journal contains full statements of her 
 religious experience, and shows a simple type of piety, 
 unmistakably genuine and progressive. 
 
 In May, 1849, she felt able to resume literary labor, 
 and did so, though, doubtless, working beyond her 
 strength. She completed some notes to the memoir, 
 on which she bestowed more time, proportionately, 
 than on the body of the book, took a short lesson in 
 Burmese daily, and resumed the charge of the native 
 female prayer-meeting. The women were much de- 
 lighted to notice the improvement of her health, and 
 were anxious that she should begin the Bible-class 
 again ; thus proving their attachment to her, and their 
 appreciation of her services. She had promised them 
 a translation of portions of "Pilgrim's Progress" not 
 yet given them, and they were anxiously inquiring 
 for it. 
 
 As the following year, 1849, was closing, there was 
 a change of solicitude from the husband to the wife. 
 It was now her turn to be deeply anxious, and to 
 
130 EMILY C. JUBSON. 
 
 acknowledge an occasion of alarm. Dr. Judson had 
 taken a violent cold, and this was followed by an 
 attack of the fever of the country, of a very grave 
 character ; so grave, indeed, that during the months in 
 which it was protracted he was often heard to say 
 that, compared to it, he had never been ill in India 
 before. In January (1850) he and Mrs. Judson made 
 a trip down the coast to Mergui, by steamer, in hope 
 of relieving him, but it furnished no permanent change. 
 Next they spent a month at Amherst, also without 
 benefit. A change of house was tried, but it brought 
 no relief. 
 
 Thus for months Dr. Judson continued to fail, 
 until " one evening his muscular strength gave way, 
 and he was prostrated on the bed, unable to help him- 
 self. The Doctor now became alarmed, and said the 
 only hope for him was a long voyage." Mrs. Jud- 
 son, thus writing, was confronted by more serious cir- 
 cumstances than she had yet met. It was the only 
 decline which nothing seemed to check, and death was 
 imminent, except as it might be averted by sea air. 
 A voyage must be taken, and without her, as her situ- 
 ation made it necessary for her to remain at home. 
 The separation would thus cause, the deepest solicitude 
 on the part of each. He would be anxious concerning 
 her, while she would be distressed by hjs detention, 
 because she could not be company for him, nor assist- 
 ance, nor be able to hear from him for a long time 
 after his departure. 
 
 Mrs. Judson was now weary and cast down ; never 
 so heavy-hearted in her life before. Naturally confid- 
 ing and disposed to lean upon her friends for sym- 
 
A MEMORIAL. 13 ! 
 
 pathy, she had reached an occasion when one of her 
 "old friends" would have been indeed a ministering 
 angel, notwithstanding the neighborliness of sister 
 missionaries. Her husband must go, must go ! — no 
 one could say whether to return, while the probability 
 that he would not arose almost to a certainty. She, a 
 wife of less than four summers, already began to see 
 the weeds of widowhood coming upon her. 
 
 Dr. Judson had been ill for five months when, one 
 evening, as he attempted to reach his cot his back 
 gave way and he was unable longer to stand on his 
 feet. His case was now desperate, and the plan of 
 putting to sea must be carried out. Passage was en- 
 gaged on the French bark Aristide Marie, bound for 
 the Isle of Bourbon, and he was carried aboard April 
 3d, with Mr. Ranney, of the mission, for his compan- 
 ion and nurse, and also a faithful Bengalee servant who 
 had been in the family two years. Arrangements for 
 his comfort were as complete as possible. 
 
 By a conflict of authorities the vessel failed of 
 being towed out of the river for some days. Mrs. Jud- 
 son went on board with him and continued there, min- 
 istering to his comfort throughout the day. At dark 
 she returned to her saddened home, to stay with the 
 children. Next day, finding that the vessel had 
 dropped down but a little distance, she obtained a boat 
 and overtook it and spent another day with him. The 
 third day, also, she went, finding him not so well as on 
 previous days, yet compelled to leave him at night ; as 
 she then supposed, finally. On the morning of the 
 fourth day she was so distressed with anxiety that she 
 again took a boat and reached the vessel at about two 
 
132 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 o'clock in the afternoon. She found him unable to 
 speak except in whispers, and she felt like coinciding 
 with the natives that she had sent to fan him, in their 
 importunity to have him taken ashore. Still, the phy- 
 sician's orders must be obeyed, and again she bade him 
 adieu, and for the last time. It was dark. The deep 
 shadows of the night were but a figure of the real 
 shadows upon her heart. The lips that ''moved to 
 say some word of farewell," gave no sound. 
 
 After six days the vessel cleared the river, and the 
 pilot was able to leave it to go on its way. By him 
 word was returned to Mrs. Judson from the invalid, 
 that "there was something animating in the touch 
 of the sea breeze," and that he believed it to be the 
 will of God that he should recover. But the cloud on 
 her heart did not depart with the little gilding he gave 
 to it. That last sad parting, "without a word, and 
 almost without a thought, so entirely had pain ab- 
 sorbed every faculty," could not be forgotten. The 
 cloud did not rise. 
 
 On the 1 2th, nine days after embarkation, he 
 reached the end of toil and suffering. His last words, 
 like those of his beloved Ann, were in the language 
 of the people of his heart — the Burmese. He said to 
 the servant : " Take care of poor mistress," and soon 
 expired. It seeming best to bury soon, a strong plank 
 coffin was promptly made, several buckets of sand 
 poured into it to make it sink, and all that was mor- 
 tal of Adoniram Judson was committed to the deep. 
 
 " Poor mistress," now poor indeed, could only have 
 painful imaginings as to the scenes upon the Aristide 
 Marie. Nor were her forebodings to be removed or 
 
A MEMORIAL. 133 
 
 in anywise answered by early tidings. Vessels were 
 comparatively few in the Indian Ocean then ; ports 
 were not numerous nor easily entered, and a passing 
 vessel available for exchanging the news and mails 
 was a rarity. 
 
 When Mrs. Judson returned from the ship to her 
 darkened home on that last sad evening she was fully 
 conscious of the main facts as to his condition, and 
 could but be convinced as to the nature of the mes- 
 sage that would be brought to her after some months 
 — how many, she had no means of determining. The 
 next day was the Sabbath ; and such a Sabbath in the 
 once bright and happy home of the Judsons ! The 
 father and husband was gone ; the morning light was 
 gloom, the sound of preparation for the joys of the 
 day was muffled, and the music of the children's voices 
 seemed to be keyed to a sepulchral note. And was 
 not this the first of unnumbered Sabbaths of darkness, 
 not of light, as formerly ? 
 
 Monday brought its accustomed toil and turbu- 
 lence, but no husband from his Sunday work to share 
 the yoke. Nor was there the semblance of rainbow 
 in her darkened sky. There was no hope that he 
 would come bounding over the threshold at eventide, 
 driving out the gloom and bringing back the children's 
 glee. Nor was there any promise for the succeeding 
 day ; nor for the day subsequent to that. The children 
 might ask when papa would come, but the question 
 would only add to the consciousness of inability to 
 answer. It was night ! — all the while, night ! 
 
 On the tenth day of his departure, borne from home 
 on a litter, his lifeless body was lowered to the bottom 
 
134 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 of the sea ; and ten days thereafter she gave birth to a 
 lifeless form that was lowered to its little bed in the 
 ground. While hope that she should again receive her 
 husband had about expired with the day on which 
 she last left him, there was another hope — the hope 
 that springs gladsome, if not immortal, in woman's 
 breast — that she might have one to bear his image 
 and name. 
 
 Between solicitude for him who was drifting away, 
 farther and farther, and the anxious expectancy of the 
 near event at home, her tender heart was truly tried. 
 The child's coming could bring only an abated joy in 
 the father's absence ; and if he should never return, it 
 would be but a half-joy through life. 
 
 God ordered the event in a wise way, though it 
 wounded her heart most severely. She was suscepti- 
 ble to conflicting emotions in an unusual degree, and 
 never more so than on this occasion. And ere long she 
 gave expression to her feelings in one of the finest 
 strains of domestic verse of which she was author. 
 The "given name" of the child had been selected in 
 honor of her father, Charles Chubbuck, and his still, 
 natal day gave rise to the following beautiful lines: 
 
 ANGEL CHARLIE. 
 
 He came — a beauteous vision — 
 
 Then, vanished from my sight, 
 His wing one moment cleaving 
 
 The blackness of my night ; 
 My glad ear caught its rustle, 
 
 Then, sweeping by, he stole 
 The dew-drop that his coming 
 
 Had cherished in my soul. 
 
A MEMORIAL. - 135 
 
 Oh, he had been my solace 
 
 When grief my spirit swayed, 
 And on his fragile being 
 
 Had tender hopes been stayed ; 
 Where thought, where feeling lingered 
 
 His form was sure -to glide', 
 And in the lone night watches 
 
 'Twas ever by my side. 
 
 He came ; but as the blossom 
 
 Its petals closes up 
 And hides them from the tempest, 
 
 Within its sheltering cup, 
 So he his spirit gathered 
 
 Back to his frightened breast, 
 And passed from earth's grim threshold, 
 
 To be the Savior's guest. 
 
 My boy — Ah, me ! the sweetness, 
 
 The anguish of that word ! — 
 My boy, when in strange night dreams 
 
 My slumbering soul is stirred ; 
 When music floats around me, 
 
 When soft lips touch my brow, 
 And whisper gentle greetings, 
 
 Oh, tell me, is it thou ? 
 
 I know, by one sweet token, 
 
 My Charlie is not dead ; 
 One golden clue he left me, 
 
 As on his track he sped. 
 Were he some gem or blossom, 
 
 But fashioned for to-day, 
 My love would slowly perish 
 
 With his dissolving clay. 
 
 Oh, by this deathless yearning, 
 
 Which is not idly given ; 
 By the delicious nearness 
 
 My spirit feels to heaven ; 
 
136 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 By dreams that throng my night-sleep, 
 
 By visions of the day, 
 By whispers when I'm erring, 
 
 By promptings when I pray ; — 
 
 I know tljis life so cherished, 
 
 Which sprang beneath my heart, 
 Which formed of my own being 
 
 So beautiful a part ; 
 This precious, winsome creature, 
 
 My unfledged, voiceless dove. 
 Lifts now a serapH's pinion, 
 
 And warbles lays of love. 
 
 Oh, I would not recall thee, 
 
 My glorious angel boy ! 
 Thou needest not my bosom, 
 
 Rare bird of light and joy ; 
 Here dash I down the tear-drops, 
 
 Still gathering in my eyes ; 
 Blest — Oh ! how blest ! — in adding 
 
 A seraph to the skies ! 
 
A MEMORIAL. 137 
 
 XI. 
 
 "®He gvcn Wvo**"— homeward 
 
 FLIGHT. 
 
 I thank Thee, gracious Lord, 
 
 For the divine award 
 Of strength that helps me up the heavy heights 
 Of mortal sorrow, where, through the tears forlorn, 
 My eyes get glimpses of the authentic lights 
 
 Of love's eternal morn. 
 
 Alice Cary. 
 
 AS days wore away, lengthened to weeks, and then 
 - to months, Mrs. Judson became increasingly fa- 
 miliar with some of the exigencies of missionary life.. 
 Especially did she become schooled in the hardest of 
 all tasks, waiting — waiting for tidings from a husband 
 in quest of health. Her situation was not less trying 
 than was that of Ann H. Judson at Rangoon in 1818, 
 when the same one was drifting over the Bay of Ben- 
 gal, near to death's door and equally unable to hear or 
 to be heard from ; and not less was she in direct and 
 faithful performance of duty. But to her was given 
 the eminent faculty of poesy, and she was able to ver- 
 sify some of the trials of a missionary career, thus 
 showing them in a real and impressive light, and add- 
 ing to the literature of missions. The following to her 
 mother, composed during this terrible ordeal of wait- 
 ing, is confessedly highly poetic, and is an instructive 
 epigram of human experience : 
 
138 EMILY c. juqsoN. 
 
 SWEET MOTHER. 
 
 The wild south-west monsoon has risen, 
 On broad, gray wings of gloom, 
 
 While here from out my dreary prison 
 I look as from a tomb ; 
 
 Alas! 
 My heart another tomb. 
 
 Upon the low, thatched roof the rain 
 
 With ceaseless patter falls ; 
 My choicest treasures bear its stain, 
 
 Mould gathers on the walls — 
 Would Heaven 
 
 'Twere only on the walls ! 
 
 Sweet mother, I am here alone, 
 
 In sorrow and in pain ; 
 The sunshine from my heart has flown, 
 
 It feels the driving rain ; 
 Ah, me ! 
 
 The chill, the mould, and rain. 
 
 Four laggard months have wheeled their round 
 
 Since love upon it smiled ; 
 And everything of earth has frowned 
 
 On thy poor stricken child 
 Sweet friend, 
 
 Thy weary, suffering child. 
 
 I'd watched him, mother, night and day, 
 Scarce breathing when he slept, 
 
 And as my hopes were swept away 
 I'd in his bosom wept ! 
 
 Oh, God ! 
 How had I prayed and wept ! 
 
 They bore him from me to the ship, 
 
 As bearers bear the dead ; 
 I pressed his speechless, quivering lip, 
 
 And left him on his bed, — 
 Alas! 
 
 It seemed a coffin bed. 
 
A MEMORIAL. 139 
 
 Then, mother, little Charley came, 
 
 Our beautiful, fair boy, 
 With my own father's cherished name, — 
 
 But Oh, he brought no joy, — 
 My child 
 
 Brought mourning and no joy. 
 
 His little grave I may not see, 
 
 Though weary months have sped 
 Since pitying lips bent over me, 
 
 And whispered, " He is dead." 
 Ah, me ! 
 
 'Tis dreadful to be dead ! 
 
 I do not mean for one like me, 
 
 So weary, worn and weak ; 
 Death's shadowy paleness seems to be, 
 
 E'en now, upon my cheek ; 
 His seal 
 
 On form, and brow, and cheek. 
 
 But for a bright-winged bird like him, 
 
 To hush his joyous song, 
 And prisoned in a' coffin dim, 
 
 Join Death's pale, phantom throng — 
 My boy 
 
 To join that grizzly throng ! 
 
 Oh, mother, I can scarcely bear 
 
 To think of this to-day ! 
 It was so exquisitely fair, — 
 
 That little form of clay — 
 My heart 
 
 Still lingers by his clay. 
 
 And when for one loved far, far more, 
 
 Come thickly gathering tears, 
 My star of faith is clouded o'er ; 
 
 I sink beneath my fears, 
 Sweet friend, 
 
 My heavy weight of fears. 
 
140 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 Oh, should he not return to me, 
 Drear, drear must be my night ; 
 
 And, mother, I can almost see, 
 B'en now, the gath'ring blight ; 
 
 I stand 
 As stricken by the blight. 
 
 Oh, but to feel thy fond arms twine 
 Around me once again ! 
 ' It almost seems those lips of thine 
 
 Might kiss away the pain ; 
 
 Might soothe 
 This dull, cold, heavy pain. 
 
 But, gentle mother, through life's storms 
 
 I may not lean on thee ; 
 For helpless, cowering little forms 
 
 Cling trustingly to me, — 
 Poor babes ! 
 
 To have no guide but me ! 
 
 With weary foot and broken wing, 
 With bleeding heart and sore, 
 
 Thy dove looks backward sorrowing, 
 But seeks the ark no more ; 
 
 Thy breast 
 Seeks never, never more. 
 
 Sweet mother, for the exile pray 
 That loftier faith be given ; 
 
 Her broken reeds all swept away, 
 That she may lean on Heaven ; 
 
 Her soul 
 Grow strong in trust of Heaven. 
 
 All fearfully — all tearfully, 
 
 Alone and sorrowing, 
 My dim eye lifted to the sky, 
 
 Fast to the Cross I cling, — 
 Oh, Christ! 
 
 To thy dear cross I cling. 
 
A MEMORIAL. 141 
 
 The summer wore away, and the hour of Mr. 
 Ranney's release from his enforced, protracted voyage 
 came to a close. Nearly five months had elapsed since 
 the shadows of the Burman mountains had ceased to 
 fall upon Dr. Judson, who loved them for the sake of 
 the souls they sheltered. Now it is known that he is 
 no more, and the shadows are all her own, deepened by 
 a sense of bereavement such as few are capable of ex- 
 periencing. Her almost constant illness, that had re- 
 duced her to a skeleton, and the sickness of the family 
 and its cares, had rendered the summer distressful in- 
 deed; and all now culminated with "the last blow," 
 the loss of her "guide." " I can think of nothing," she 
 writes, " and see nothing, but the black shadows that 
 have fallen upon my own heart and life." 
 
 Four years, in which to become a bride and twice a 
 mother, to sail half way around the globe, guide a 
 home and motherless children in heathen cities, to 
 pass twice through the shadow of death, write a book, 
 learn a language and translate considerably for native 
 Christians, conduct Bible-class and prayer-meetings for 
 the natives, care for a husband whose life is going out 
 — this is much in the time and for the day in which it 
 was done. 
 
 A cultivated woman in a heathen land, patiently 
 performing duty, exemplifying before the eyes of the 
 indolent and vicious the virtues of industry and chari- 
 ty, and looking well to the ways of her household, is 
 a gift to the country of inestimable value. And when 
 to all this is added the character of missionary, an- 
 other element of good comes into the reckoning; its 
 exact worth being determined by the place she fills 
 and the need she supplies. 
 
142 EMItY C. JTJDSON. 
 
 Mrs. Judson had a very difficult station. As the 
 wife of the pride of the American churches, and the 
 successor of "two such women," she must meet a' very 
 unusual demand. As a stepmother, she must be blame- 
 less. As an intellectual woman, she must instruct the 
 ignorant and supply literary helps when required ; and 
 with it all she must maintain her old friendships, and 
 gratify the loved in America with full and frequent de- 
 scriptions of the East. Her fame as an author had lost 
 its charm, and now she must sustain the loves and 
 cares of home-life, using her pen when it would serve 
 the purpose. 
 
 In the height of her career as a story-writer she 
 drew an artless and truthful picture of "The Unuse- 
 ful," in the character of Nora May lie, which conclud- 
 ed in the following words : "She cheered, she encour- 
 aged, she smoothed difficulties, she soothed peevish- 
 ness, and softened heartlessness ; her loving spirit 
 stealing unobserved on all, and distilling its own dews 
 over the whole household." Such is the really useful; 
 under the popular ban because it is not other than 
 it is. In writing the sketch, Mrs. Judson defended a 
 class that is not much appreciated in the great busi- 
 ness world, where material things have such suprema- 
 cy. One can easily imagine that she was feeling the 
 sting of some "practical" person's remarks, and per- 
 haps wrote in self-defense. 
 
 From the present view-point there can scarcely be 
 a shadow of doubt as to her usefulness in India during 
 the illnesses of her family, and particularly in the clos- 
 ing months of Dr. Judson's grand but painful career. 
 Though sometimes too weak to lift her own babe, she 
 
A MEMORIAL. 143 
 
 had a valiant spirit that imparted strength to others 
 by its own potent contact. She had learned the art 
 of cheering friends amid the severities of a New York 
 climate and the obstinate "pressure of poverty. She 
 could give an artiste's touch to grotesque and even 
 horrid things, trick a dungeon into a drawing-room, 
 and dull the edge of pain. 
 
 How can any one read her full and affecting ac- 
 count of her husband's last days and not feel that she 
 saw the best of the experience and spoke only of that; 
 filled his soul with good cheer for the final conflict ; 
 kept her own woes in the background, and sent him 
 away in lively hope of health or heaven ? What better 
 in such an hour than such an angel of sympathy ? He 
 had no need of a preacher to stand over him and labo- 
 riously strive to justify the ways of God, or vindicate 
 eternal providence. A song was preferable to a ser- 
 mon, and the buoyant songster to the sermonizer. 
 And the disposition that caused the youthful Emily to 
 run a mile " as fleetly as her small feet would carry 
 her," to get a pinafore of roses to shower upon the 
 death-bed of her sister I,avinia was the same that in 
 its maturity brightened up the "blessing" of her In- 
 dian home when about to take his flight. 
 
 Her youthfulness was not a misfortune in this dark 
 hour. She was not too young for Dr. Judson, who 
 needed her compensating buoyancy in his increasing 
 debility. It was to her that he spoke those triumphant 
 words that seldom fail to draw tears, no matter how 
 often read : " I suppose they think me an old man, and 
 imagine it is nothing for one like me to resign a life so 
 full of trials. But I am not old — at least in that sense ; 
 
144 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 you know I am not. O, no man ever left this world 
 with more inviting prospects, with brighter hopes or 
 warmer feelings — warmer feelings," he repeated, and 
 burst into tears. His face was perfectly placid, even 
 while the tears broke away from the closed lids, and 
 rolled, one after another, down to the pillow. 
 
 The part that Mrs. Judson had in that victory may 
 not be recognized by all, as, doubtless, it was not by 
 herself; yet the hand that smoothes the pillow and 
 lays the roses upon it is not the least of the benedic- 
 tions of a dying hour, especially in a heathen land. 
 
 After months of suspense and loneliness the heavy 
 tidings came, by way of Calcutta. They were com- 
 municated by a Scotch clergyman of that city, who 
 was himself painfully anticipating this stroke upon the 
 general cause of missions in the East, and who accom- 
 panied the news with heartiest expressions of sorrow 
 and sympathy. She likewise was favored with the 
 extraordinary condescension of the Lord Bishop of Cal- 
 cutta, who some time afterward was in Maulmain, and 
 called to offer his condolence on her great loss, pre- 
 senting her also with a copy of the Bible. 
 
 The first question of a serious, practical nature, 
 incident to widowhood, occurred to her immediately 
 and with special pressure — what to do ! Dr. Judson 
 had expressed the wish that in case of his death she 
 should return to America with the children ; and this 
 course would naturally be considered before any other. 
 But she viewed the situation calmly, and took time to 
 consider. Although the future was dark, and her heart 
 heavy, she had formed the usual attachment for the 
 object to which she had consecrated herself. Those 
 
A MEMORIAL. 145 
 
 repulsive creatures whom she was trying to benefit 
 assumed a certain attractiveness the moment she 
 thought of leaving them; and they manifested the 
 deepest interest in her as a guide and instructor. 
 
 But the advice of the missionaries, and the circum- 
 stances of the case, finally formed the verdict in favor 
 of return. Her grief at the decision was mitigated only 
 by a conviction of its reasonableness. In a letter to 
 her friend Miss Anable, to whose arms she was only 
 too glad to fly, especially when in trouble, she ex- 
 presses her feelings as follows : " My heart is here — I 
 love the missionaries, love the work, and love the pre- 
 cious Christians that have been accustomed to gather 
 round me for prayer and instruction. They sobbed 
 like so many children when I announced my purpose 
 of returning. My knowledge of the language is too 
 important to be thrown away, and my knowledge of 
 the character and habits of the people is probably, 
 (from peculiar circumstances) greater than that of 
 many who have been longer in the field. But the 
 state of my health and the good of the children require 
 a sacrifice of feeling which, from your distance, you 
 will be unable to appreciate." 
 
 Again, to the same, after the lapse of three months : 
 " Weary and desolate — weary, worn and desolate — Oh, 
 Anna Maria, my path is mantled by the very 'black- 
 ness of darkness.' I am on the eve of embarkation ; 
 one day more, and I leave my loving, sympathizing 
 friends here, to plunge into the midst of strangers. 
 How well fitted I am for the long and lonely voyage 
 you will imagine when I tell you that I have not been 
 able to enter the nearest mission house since that fatal 
 
146 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 April but once, and then (two weeks since) it brought 
 on a relapse, from which I am still suffering. My Cal- 
 cutta friends write me kindly — tenderly even — and 
 though they are strange friends, God may see fit to 
 turn their hearts toward me — I don't know. It is bet- 
 ter, of course, to look altogether above the world, but 
 that is scarcely possible while in it. O, for the rest of 
 the people of God ! I sometimes feel that it would be 
 delightful to share his grave — but then, the children !" 
 
 Two days after writing in this strain Mrs. Judson, 
 "with aching heart and tearful eye, bade adieu to 
 Maulmain, the scene of her happiest and wretchedest 
 hours." She had seen much in four years. She had 
 lived in both Rangoon and Maulmain. Ann never saw 
 Maulmain ; Sarah never saw Rangoon. On the other 
 hand, Emily never saw Ava nor Oung-pen-la ; neither 
 did she thread the jungles with an expiring husband. 
 But she lived in Bat Castle, the "Green Turban's 
 Den," and saw her dying husband borne away to the 
 voracious sea, with no hope of meeting him again in 
 this world. She toiled, had patience, did not faint, 
 and He who holds the seven stars in his right hand 
 knows her works. 
 
 On the 22d of January, 1851, she commenced the 
 long voyage to America — herself, three children, and a 
 Burmese servant girl. Early in February she reached 
 Calcutta, by way of which city, though out of the way, 
 home-going, as .well as coming, generally must be 
 done. There she experienced the customary deten- 
 tion of some weeks ere an English or American vessel 
 could be secured. But it was for her profit, and might 
 have been for her pleasure had she not " grown more 
 
A MEMORIAL. 147 
 
 and more poorly every day," and been prevented from 
 visiting Serampore and becoming acquainted with the 
 missionaries and their work there. In Calcutta she 
 received every kindness needed, and, on Dr. Judson's 
 account, a donation of three thousand rupees ($1,500) 
 from gentlemen of different religious sects. This "Jud- 
 son Testimonial" she used iu defraying her expenses 
 to America. She embarked February 24th on the ship 
 Tudor for London ; one-half of the above amount 
 being required for passage thus far. Dr. Kendrick 
 briefly and happily mentions the voyage as follows: 
 "The captain was unweariedly attentive; her fel- 
 low-passengers courteous and respectful; and a Mrs. 
 Thomas especially, though a brilliant woman of the 
 world, yet, by her unaffected sympathy and warm- 
 heartedness, as well as by her intelligence, won a 
 large place in the heart of the stricken widow. Mrs. 
 Thomas' husband was not with her, and Mrs. Judson 
 wrote for her — as an address to him in his absence — the 
 little poem, ' Alone upon the deep, love.' She gazed 
 sadly upon the receding shores of India ; caught for 
 the last time ' the spicy breezes ' that blow from those 
 groves of balm and islands clothed with eternal sum- 
 mer, and once more the Southern Cross looked down 
 upon her — but with a deeper, sadder meaning than 
 when she first gazed on it through the glowing atmos- 
 phere of hope. Its strange, blended lesson of severity 
 and kindness she thus sweetly interpreted " : 
 
 TO THE SOUTHERN CROSS. 
 
 Sweet empress of the southern sea, 
 Hail to thy loveliness once more ! 
 
 Thou gazest mournfully on me, 
 As mindful we have met before. 
 
148 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 When first I saw the Polar Star 
 
 Go down behind the silver sea, 
 And greeted thy wild light from far, 
 
 I did not know its mystery. 
 
 My Polar Star was by my side, 
 The star of hope was on my brow ; 
 
 I've lost them both beneath the tide, — 
 The cross alone is left me now. 
 
 Not such as thou, sweet Thing of stars, 
 Moving in queenly state on high ; 
 
 But wrought of stern, cold iron bars, 
 And borne, ah me! so wearily! 
 
 Yet something from these soft, warm skies 
 Seems whispering "Thou shalt yet be blest!" 
 
 And gazing in thy tender eyes, 
 The symbol brightens on my breast. 
 
 I read at last the mystery 
 That slumbers in each starry gem; 
 
 The weary pathway to the sky — 
 The iron cross — the diadem. 
 
 After pleasantly voyaging for three months, in. 
 which time she had gained greatly in health — had 
 recovered her appetite and the complexion of her 
 better days — the ship reached Cape Town. The heavy 
 gales encountered, during which she and others were 
 shut up in darkened cabins, proved a benefit to her. 
 The passengers said that the fairies had changed her. 
 And this improvement was partly due to the care of 
 the captain. " His attentions to us who have no pro- 
 tectors," she says, "are not merely the attentions of a 
 courteous, gentlemanly commander, but the thought- 
 ful watchfulness of a brother or husband." This kind- 
 ness, and the society of Mrs. Thomas, gave her a great- 
 ly increased regard for the English people. 
 
A MEMORIAL. 149 
 
 The Tudor remained in port at Cape Town a few 
 days, giving Mrs. Judson an opportunity to go ashore 
 and enjoy the society of the foreign residents there. 
 She speaks of " getting ready for a dinner party, three 
 miles out of town, at the fashionable after-dark hour"; 
 a relief to the severities of the months previous, that 
 must have been very beneficial to her mind and, 
 therefore, to her general health. 
 
 The vessel weighed anchor about the first of June 
 and reached London about the middle of August, when 
 she found her health greatly improved, as she sup- 
 posed, while " the sallow Indian cheeks of her children 
 were beginning to glow with English roses." Here 
 she remained a little more than one month; and 
 though taking quiet lodgings in a retired quarter of 
 the city, the large-hearted English who were in sym- 
 pathy with missions, and with herself and family in 
 particular, took her under their own care and made 
 her stay delightful. 
 
 On the 20th of September she sailed from Liver- 
 pool in the steamer Canada, and reached Boston early 
 in October, a little more than five years after she had 
 left that city for the East. 
 
150 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 XII. 
 
 $,ttthov#Hip &$ain— for love and 
 
 FOR LIFE. 
 
 Everywhere in life the true question is, not what we gain, 
 but what we do.— Carlyi<E. 
 
 " Seldom can the heart be lonely 
 If it seek a lonelier still ; 
 Self-forgetting, seeking only 
 Emptier cups of love to fill." 
 
 ANEW era in Mrs. Judson's singular history now 
 begins, and it is the last. The changes in her 
 inner life were by no means the least of those she had 
 experienced. Some can realize how such an overturn- 
 ing of plans and habits as she had passed through would 
 affect heart and mind. There was the sudden interrup- 
 tion of her literary work, the surprising, embarrassing 
 offer of marriage, the hasty consummation of her nup- 
 tials, the early departure from the country, the sea voy- 
 age with its novelties and severities, the immediate in- 
 stallment as mother of a family, and in a land where 
 there were few conveniences and few sympathizers, 
 the repulsive aspects of heathenism — sickness, deaths, 
 return — all in five years ! Not the least of these was 
 the transition from one land to another, and back 
 again ; the repeated breaking up of domestic life after 
 the feelings had become as firmly settled as the place 
 of residence was thought to be. Such experience is 
 
A MEMORIAL. 151 
 
 distracting, and sometimes strands the subject of it, 
 particularly one in whom the affections predominate. 
 When she touched again the shore of her native 
 land she had to recover from the effects of five years 
 of absence. And, with other changes, she now found 
 herself at the head of a family of six children. The 
 three oldest, who were left in this country by their 
 father, Dr. Judson, were now committed to her care, 
 while the three younger, with the Burmese girl, con- 
 tinued with her. How her own lines, written in her 
 solitary situation in Maulmain, must have recurred to 
 her: 
 
 " — helpless, cowering little forms 
 
 Cling trustingly to me, — » 
 
 Poor babes ! 
 
 To have no guide but me." 
 
 But she was promptly offered a home for Adoniram 
 and Elnathan by Dr. Bright, of New York, and she 
 arranged for the education of the oldest daughter, 
 Abby, by Miss Anable, of Philadelphia, formerly of 
 Utica, one of the most competent teachers in the 
 country. She then proceeded with the rest of the 
 family to Hamilton, where her parents still lived. It 
 was, in her own words, 
 
 " With weary foot and broken wing, 
 With bleeding heart and sore," 
 
 that the songstress now perched again amid the 
 boughs of the old roof-tree. But her sorrows were 
 not without the compensating joys of the welcome. 
 After a month with her friends at Hamilton she 
 turned again to the serious, the labor-side of her life. 
 She was not yet ready for rest, present or eternal, not 
 
152 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 being through with toil nor with sickness. The Chris- 
 tian world wanted a Life of Dr. Judson, and the sooner 
 it could be furnished the better. Her help in produc- 
 ing it was indispensable, though so competent a person 
 as Dr. Francis Wayland had been engaged to write it. 
 To perform her part of the work it seemed necessary 
 that she go to Providence, Rhode Island, where she 
 should be in the immediate society of the author, and 
 remain there until it had been thoroughly planned, if 
 not completed. 
 
 In making the journey she felt it to be very desir- 
 able to go by way of Philadelphia and visit friends 
 there. Accordingly she set out in November, and 
 after'a brief sojourn in that city where her health and 
 her reputation had been so well cherished she reached 
 the city of Providence by the time winter had begun, 
 and took lodgings for herself and the three children 
 brought from India. 
 
 Her duties were of a very taxing nature : Writing 
 in all directions for letters, documents and reminis- 
 cences, which work, attended as it was with delays and 
 unsatisfactory replies, must have been exceedingly try- 
 ing. She might have written a book in one-half the 
 time required for compiling one, as principal or as 
 assistant. " Armed with documents, she went to work, 
 reading, selecting, copying, digesting, commenting, 
 and where her own knowledge availed, filling out the 
 deficient materials, thus pioneering the path of the 
 biographer. The industry and judgment with which 
 she performed her task were alike remarkable. So ill 
 that she could write but a few hours a day, and then 
 suffering from a pain in the side which made writing a 
 
A MEMORIAL. I53 
 
 torture, she wrought steadily on, bending into shape 
 and preparing for use the intractable materials." Dr. 
 Wayland gave her a very high commendation for her 
 work. 
 
 While engaged with Dr. Wayland in preparing the 
 Memoir, Mrs. Judson was necessarily concerned, also, 
 in the care and culture of her family, in maintaining 
 correspondence with her private friends and the friends 
 of missions, and in battling with the insidious disease 
 that was slowly but surely ma-king its conquest over 
 her system. And when the heaviest of her work on 
 the biography was done she began to give attention to 
 what seemed important to her financial interests — the 
 preparation of some of her own writings for the press. 
 
 She first made a collection of her earlier poems, 
 and of some later ones, the fugitive scintillations of 
 the girl-mind and the product of maturer days. While 
 she did not entertain an exalted opinion of her poetry, 
 nor pique herself upon her popularity, she felt that 
 there was a possible market for her wares, and that 
 the exigencies of her family demanded an effort to 
 realize from them. The volume was modestly en- 
 titled " An Olio of Domestic Verses." And she says 
 that several of the pieces were written at the age of 
 twelve, a large number at about sixteen, and very few 
 of the later ones were intended to go beyond the fam- 
 ily circle. By acts of partial friendship they had been 
 preserved, and " meeting them unexpectedly, after an 
 interval well calculated to sweep things so trivial from 
 memory," and after all their struggles for existence, 
 she thought she might be pardoned for giving them a 
 chance. They were a " spontaneous growth," and she 
 
154 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 claimed, with the boy of school memory, " I didn't 
 whistle, sir; it whistled itself." The writer has pos- 
 sessed a copy of the Olio ever since it appeared, and 
 has read, and reread it with great delight. It contains 
 as genuine " veins " as any book of poems. 
 
 Pending the completion of the Olio, Mrs. Judson 
 settled the vexed question of a place of permanent 
 residence. The main considerations pointed to Hamil- 
 ton, the home of her parents, the locality of her fond- 
 est associations, a seat of superior schools, and a retreat 
 from the confusion and the contingencies as to health 
 that are experienced in the cities. But how could " the 
 loggery " .accommodate so many — the Chubbucks and 
 Judsons? The necessity for more room gave occasion 
 for a new purchase. She bought a commodious home 
 on the main street, in the best part of the town; the 
 residence of Dr. A- C. Kendrick when professor in 
 Madison University. 
 
 Hither came the family, as now constituted, viz., 
 the mother, Henry, Edward, Emily Frances, and the 
 Burmese girl. The other three children were else- 
 where, being cared for and educated. In June, her 
 memorial month, even in her own death, Mrs. Judson 
 took possession of the new home and commenced 
 housekeeping ; expecting that this would be the gath- 
 ering place of the entire family, and that here she 
 should spend the remainder of her life. Her parents, 
 for whom she had expended the vigor of her girlhood, 
 and who had rested on her heart as a sweet burden 
 during all the intervening time, were now stooping 
 low by the weight of years, and needed her even more 
 than ever before. She was only too glad that they 
 
A MEMORIAL. 155 
 
 had one to lean upon, though the staff had been weak- 
 ened through the preying of unconquerable, life-long 
 disease. 
 
 In August (1852) the Olio was given to the public, 
 and in September a second edition. It had a good 
 start, aided by special efforts to circulate it in the town 
 and the University. But when the region of her ac- 
 quaintance was supplied the best of her field was ex- 
 hausted; and this fact, taken with the small royalty 
 paid to authors, accounts for the smallness of her in- 
 come from the sales. The Alderbrook was still sell- 
 ing, and the Memoir of Sarah B. Judson had been 
 made over to her by the Missionary Union. Also, she 
 had a small income from Dr. Judson's estate. But she 
 had declined to accept the customary allowance of the 
 Board for the widows of missionaries, and all her 
 sources of supply were insufficient to meet the ex- 
 penses of her now large family. 
 
 Thus she was still confronted with her old " des- 
 tiny" — eating bread in the sweat of her face, and sup- 
 plying it to others by the same means. She was 
 familiar with an aching head, late hours, rejected man- 
 uscripts and tears of disappointment, and she could 
 not reasonably anticipate the rising of any ghost that 
 she had not at some time downed. So she buckled 
 up the armor and launched anew into authorship. She 
 first prepared a volume which she believed would pro- 
 mote the cause of missions, while it might yield her 
 something for her work. The public had not ceased 
 to criticise and bemean the foreign mission enterprise, 
 and she was in a very suitable state of mind to reply 
 to some of the critics who were ventilating their opin- 
 
156 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 ions in the leading periodicals of the day. This vol- 
 ume was designed for such persons. 
 
 Its leading chapter, " The Kathayan Slave?' which 
 depicts the incredible brutality practiced in the death- 
 prison at Ava, during the imprisonment of Dr. Judson, 
 gives name to the book. Then follows the ' ' Madness 
 of the Missionary Enterprise," a lofty, overwhelming 
 answer to the sneers of the Unitarian Review, Edin- 
 burgh Review, New York Express, Boston Transcript, 
 and other pretentious " reviewers " of the mission cause 
 in the East. The latter was first written for The Mac- 
 edonian, a bright, little monthly which many remem- 
 ber. It is stated that it drew its inspiration from the 
 tomb of Ann H. Judson, beside which it was composed 
 during a month's stay at Amherst with her sick hus- 
 band. "It is a most beautiful and eloquent plea for 
 missions — an argument of masculine cogency, distilled 
 in the alembic of a woman's heart." Other parts of 
 the book have a similar intent and adaptedness, verse 
 alternating with prose, and the whole constituting an 
 entertaining and informing little volume that deserved 
 a wider circulation than it obtained. 
 
 Of the poetic pieces included in "The Kathayan 
 Slave" one will take rank among the most pathetic 
 contributions to the literature of missions — " Mee 
 Shway-ee." It versifies the sad, dreadful history of that 
 little slave-child who was rescued by " a messenger of 
 Jesus," and shows one direction that loving mission- 
 ary effort takes. The circumstances giving rise to the 
 poem deeply affected Mrs. Judson, and it being one of 
 her most rhythmical productions she taught it from 
 her bed of sickness to her little daughter, " My Bird," 
 
A MEMORIAL. 157 
 
 who still bears in memory and heart its touching sen- 
 timents of pity and love. As it is out of print it is 
 here given, for the pleasure of the reader: 
 
 MEE SHWAY-EE. 
 
 In the tropic land of Burmah, 
 
 Where the sun grows never old, 
 And the regal-browed palmyra 
 
 Crqwns her head with clouds of gold, 
 On a strange, wild promontory, 
 
 Close beside the rushing sea, 
 Listening ever to the billows, 
 
 Dwelt poor little Mee Shway-ee. 
 
 But along the sandy sea-shore, 
 
 Or amid the foliage green, 
 Stringing rows of crimson berries 
 
 Was the maiden never seen 
 Never twined she her black tresses 
 
 With the golden mazalee ; 
 For a wild and woe-marked slave-child 
 
 Was poor little Mee Shway-ee. 
 
 And when in the hush of twilight 
 
 Rose a startling eldritch cry, 
 Answered by the gray-winged osprey, 
 
 Plunging seaward from the sky, 
 Then the village wives and maidens, 
 
 As they glanced from roof to sea, 
 Whispered of a human osprey, 
 
 And poor writhing Mee Shway-ee. 
 
 But a messenger of Jesus — 
 
 Him who, centuries ago, 
 Bared his bosom to the arrow 
 
 Winged by human guilt and woe, 
 And then said, " Go preach my gospel ! 
 
 Lo ! I'm evermore with thee " ; — 
 One who served this blessed Jesus, 
 
 Found poor, trembling Mee Shway-ee — 
 
158 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 Found her wan and scarred and bleeding, 
 
 Mad with agony and sin ; 
 So love's arms were opened widely, 
 
 And the sufferer folded in. 
 Tender fingers soothed and nursed her, 
 
 And 'twas wonderful to see 
 How the winning glance of pity 
 
 Tamed the elf-child, Mee Shway-ee. 
 
 For beneath those drooping eyelids 
 
 Shone a human spirit now, 
 And the light of thought came playing 
 
 Softly over lip and brow ; 
 But her little footstep faltered, — 
 
 Beamed her eye more lovingly, — 
 And 'twas known that death stood claiming 
 
 Gentle, trusting Mee Shway-ee 
 
 But to her he came an angel, 
 
 Throned in clouds of rosy light — 
 Came to bear her to that Savior 
 
 Who had broke her weary night; 
 And with smiles she sought His bosom ; 
 
 So, beside the rushing sea, 
 ' Neath the weeping casuarina, 
 
 Ivaid they little Mee Shway-ee. 
 
 It can not be doubted that Mrs. Judson's ability as 
 a writer was of great importance to the cause of mis- 
 sions. She occupied a sphere of service in which la- 
 bor was much needed in her time, and is still needed. 
 And she did not play with the subject; she compre- 
 hended it, and her writing was " argument running 
 molten in a tide of holy passion." Her talent helped 
 to form the diversity of gifts demanded then and now. 
 Which kind is most serviceable, it is not in man to 
 determine. 
 
. A MEMORIAL. 159 
 
 In connection with her writing in behalf of mis- 
 sions she performed another piece of work that drew 
 heavily upon her heart. It was, probably, her last trib- 
 ute of a literary character to the Chubbuck family. It 
 was a labor of love, answering alike the requirement 
 of her affections and sense of justice to the memory of 
 the loved and lost, and more especially the desires of 
 her mother, who had such a proper pride in her chil- 
 dren. It was a memorial of Lavinia, the flower of the 
 family, and of her younger sister Harriet, scarcely less 
 remarkable. The materials of a Life of the former 
 had once been gathered, and lost. Twenty-four years 
 had passed since her death. Emily, her protege, had 
 reached .the eminence toward which she had been led 
 by her judicious instructions; she had attained posi- 
 tion in both the literary and religious world, had com- 
 passed the hemisphere and returned, had seen the glo- 
 ries and the deformities of different continents, and 
 now was back in the mother-nest, thinking over the 
 hard experiences of other years and the virtues of 
 those absent from the body and present with the Lord. 
 
 On a bright June morning in 1853 — June, of course, 
 to tally with events — the little horse and wagon, so 
 familiar to students and town people, drew up to the 
 door. Mrs. Judson, with her mother and sister Kate, 
 took seats for a drive. " Simple Susey," their "dumb 
 friend," was able, through some encouragement, to meet 
 the draft made upon her by the great hill (known in 
 the first part of this book as the "range on the west") 
 which intervened between Hamilton and " Log City," 
 as Eaton was called in olden times. .The village church, 
 the first sanctuary that Mrs. Judson's childhood feet 
 
l6o EMII.Y C. JUDSON. 
 
 ever entered, was passed, then the stream in which her 
 parents and I,avinia were baptized, and soon the old 
 grave-yard, their objective point, was reached and en- 
 tered. Changes required some searching for the grave. 
 When found, and while the little party was sorrowing 
 anew, a promise was evoked that the writer in the fam- 
 ily would yet bring out the shining life of the one who 
 had lain there a quarter of a century. It was done; 
 and with it was coupled an account of her sister Har- 
 riet, equally promising, who died two and a half years 
 later than Lavinia. 
 
 In the year following this visit Mrs. Judson pro- 
 duced the little volume entitled " My Two Sisters," and 
 it was published by Ticknor, Reed & Fields, of Bos- 
 ton. It was one of those domestic offerings that show 
 the very heart's blood, but which do not survive the 
 family. It is so very touching, and even instructive, 
 that one who is interested to read it through feels quite 
 disposed to linger by it and partake of its sweet melan- 
 choly and heavenly influence. The reference to it here 
 is the more justified by the fact that those two sisters 
 were filled with the missionary spirit, and necessarily 
 had an influence in favor of missions. Mrs. Judson 
 says that there was something in the subject suited 'to 
 the enthusiasm and resoluteness of Lavinia's character, 
 as well as to her elevated faith, her warm love and her 
 high views of Christian duty; and that her prayers 
 "have most assuredly fallen back in floods of balm on 
 aching brows and troubled hearts." And of Harriet, 
 that she was as familiar with the literature of missions, 
 then in circulation, as with the geography and history 
 of her own country. Both longed for the work of sav- 
 
A MEMORIAL. l6l 
 
 ing the heathen, and did something toward forming 
 Emily's convictions respecting the same work. Why 
 should not these binary stars be embalmed in a mis- 
 sionary memorial, since they helped to make mission- 
 aries, as have many others whose shining is too far 
 from public view to be recognized? 
 
 In counting all the precious boons 
 
 For which thanksgiving feasts are spread, 
 
 O let us not forget that chief 
 
 Among our treasures are our dead. 
 
 Let us give thanks that they have lived, 
 And on our lives such radiance poured, 
 
 That with the sunshine of the past 
 Our later, lonelier years are stored. 
 
 And that, removed from longer share 
 
 In these brief festivals of earth, 
 We feel their living presence still, 
 
 The angels of our home and hearth. 
 
 A light surpassing sun or star, 
 A breath more sweet than bursting flowers, 
 
 The ministry of souls beloved, 
 Gone hence, and yet forever ours. 
 
 O Father! let our dearest thanks 
 
 Be for the feast immortal said ; 
 That death has set heaven's lamps aflame, 
 
 And Thou art nearer through our dead. 
 
 — Mrs. F. C. Mace. 
 
1 62 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 (Bventibz — preparing for rest. 
 
 Day dawns before, but o'er the stream 
 Heaven's morning shines ; then how will seem 
 The way so short, its woes a dream ! 
 
 E. L,. E. — " Stepping Heavenward." 
 
 THIS Memorial has thus far compassed about thir- 
 ty-six most eventful years, to June 1853. Yet, some 
 features of Mrs. Judson's character remain to be pre- 
 sented, and also the doings and experiences of the 
 closing period and her joyful release from earth. It 
 was a period of preparation for departure ; setting her 
 house in order, for she had the assurance that soon 
 she should die. 
 
 Her estate, though not large, required careful man- 
 agement. The interests of her family and parents de- 
 pended upon it. It was not sufficient that she care for 
 them through her life-time ; she must also provide for 
 their support, if possible, after her busy brain should 
 cease its earthly activity. The parents, now old and 
 feeble, were more incapable than ever of meeting 
 their own wants, while the Judson children must be 
 reared and educated ere they would be prepared for 
 self-support. To make the necessary provision, en- 
 feebled by consumption as she was, required a regird- 
 ing of the mental powers that had served her so well 
 in' darker days. 
 
A MEMORIAL. 163 
 
 Her possessions consisted of the home and her lit- 
 erary writings, with the copyright of Dr. Wayland's 
 Memoir of Dr. Judson. To meet the responsibilities 
 mentioned, all must be made available to those depend- 
 ent on them. And with death staring her in the face 
 she began the work of final preparation. She first 
 gave attention to the forthcoming Memoir. Illness in 
 the family of Dr. Wayland, together with her famil- 
 iarity with the subject and personal interest in the 
 work, made it necessary for her to do the proof-read- 
 ing and to aid in the superintendence of the publica- 
 tion. In about three months from the time the revis- 
 ion began, the work came from the press in two large 
 volumes. The sale had already begun by subscrip- 
 tion, and she was permitted to enjoy an income from 
 it in the last months of her life. 
 
 The fame of Dr. Judson had excited in different 
 publishers a desire to participate in the pecuniary ben- 
 efits derivable from it. Mrs. Judson, on arriving in 
 this country, found a Iyife already in circulation. She 
 declined to recognize it, even though offered fifty dol- 
 lars on each one thousand copies sold, knowing that 
 it was not authentic and could not become standard. 
 And now, as the Wayland Memoir, prepared under the 
 auspices of the Missionary Union, was coming before 
 the public, another work appears, in one volume, that 
 seems likely to interfere greatly with her revenue. It 
 aroused the combative elements of her nature, and 
 gave her occasion to show that a poet and missionary, 
 not less than others, could contend for her interests, 
 even from a sick-bed. It led to trouble between the 
 publisher and his critics, which was not ended when 
 
164 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 she passed away. A great many copies were disposed 
 of, but it is doubtful whether its circulation interfered 
 with that of the larger work. 
 
 In three or four months after the broil began, Mrs. 
 Judson, by advice of her trusted counsellors, Drs. 
 Bright and Wayland, undertook an abridgment of the 
 Memoir, for more popular circulation, but rapidly fail- 
 ing health admonished her to desist the task. By her 
 request the work was carried on to completion by 
 Mrs. H. C. Conant. 
 
 From this time, February, 1854, nothing whatever 
 appears from her pen. Her work, properly so-called, 
 was done; and of this fact she became conscious as 
 soon as her friends. She would not strive to pass the 
 appointed limit of labor and life for even so good 
 an object as the embalmment of her husband's noble 
 deeds in a popular biography. She had contemplated 
 death for so long a time, and was so certain of its near- 
 ness now, that her mind readily yielded its accustomed 
 activities when it appeared. "Be it as God wills," said 
 she ; " I would not interfere if I could." 
 
 For two months a brother conducted her corre- 
 spondence, by her dictation. Her mind continuing to 
 be clear, she maintained the care of the children, and 
 did so judiciously and affectionately, not discriminat- 
 ing in favor of her own child in any of her bestow- 
 ments. Every matter of interest to her predecessor's 
 children awakened her profoundest sympathies. While 
 she had the power she performed the duty of corre- 
 sponding with the absent ones in respect to both their 
 temporal and eternal interests ; and her letters show a 
 deep insight of human nature and clear understanding 
 
A MEMORIAL. 165 
 
 of spiritual realities. She rejoices with them when 
 they rejoice in a hope in Christ, and speaks tenderly to 
 them respecting their trials. She advises them as to 
 tempers and temptations, and with a clear conception 
 of the attributes of "the man Christ Jesus" she was 
 able to commend them to His helpful sympathy. 
 
 The separation of the children had been partially 
 made some time previous to this last summer, and the 
 older ones were living and being educated elsewhere. 
 With patient attention to the case of each, Mrs. Jud- 
 son determined their several homes, that their circum- 
 stances might be the best possible after she should die. 
 Edward obtained a cordial and comfortable home in 
 the family of Ebenezer Dodge, D. D., late president of 
 Madison University, where he received care, and train- 
 ing for ten years. He became an instructor in the 
 University, and subsequently the projector of the 
 great and successful enterprise of the Judson Memorial' 
 Church, New York City. His own mother left him 
 in the tender hands of others at Maulmain, when she 
 made her last voyage for health, ending in the harbor 
 of St. Helena and the haven of Eternal Rest. His 
 step-mother, also departing, fitted him out and saw 
 him take his course toward his new home, peering 
 from its wooded inclosure on the University heights, 
 escorted by his little brother and tiny half-sister. The 
 trio of children walked hand in hand to the appointed 
 corner where they were to part, crossing and recross- 
 ing the street to postpone the moment of parting, as 
 they feared that they should not see each other any 
 more; Two came back, and Edward, "a little sickly, 
 lonesome boy," as he says, was met at the door by the 
 
166 EMII/V C. JUDSON. 
 
 good Professor, "who just opened those great arms of 
 his and folded me in." It was but a small domestic 
 scene, of which others than the family took no note, 
 yet it expressed much — the wise provision of one 
 whose heart's blood had been given, from her youth, 
 in securing homes for those she loved, and whose fore- 
 sight in this instance may have determined the rise of 
 one of our most useful and honored men. 
 
 Emily Frances, her own daughter and Heaven's 
 best benediction upon her Burman home, was provided 
 for with equal prudence and love. Her life-long and 
 accomplished friend, Miss Anable, of Philadelphia, was 
 chosen to rear and educate her; a privilege she full}' 
 honored, for the love she bore to the child and to the 
 distinguished mother. After a few years the toil-worn 
 father of Mrs. Judson and his equally toil-worn help- 
 meet passed away, and their comfortable home was 
 left to the remaining daughter, Kate, who at this writ- 
 ing continues to occupy it. 
 
 As already intimated, Mrs. Judson became owner 
 of the Memoir of her husband. Through the marked 
 generosity of its author the copyright had been pre- 
 sented to her, and it added very greatly to her income. 
 Dr. Wayland, in declining an invitation to lecture, 
 said: "I am engaged in Dr. Judson's Memoir, which 
 takes all my time. I am doing it for the widow and 
 the orphan, and they need it." He afterward said : 
 " It has taken a year of my time when years begin to 
 grow few." 
 
 In closing her business, Mrs. Judson remembered 
 the cause of missions to the heathen and gave it the 
 supreme place in her will. The orphanage of seven 
 
A MEMORIAL. 167 
 
 children and the exile of the native Burman girl in her 
 home were calculated to touch her heart when about 
 to go from them forever. To properly honor her af- 
 fections and to maintain her loyalty to the object to 
 which she had consecrated her life, called for scrupu- 
 lous if not perplexing thought. The natural inclina- 
 tion to bestow upon children more than necessary 
 seems to have been resisted; not permitted to come 
 before the blessed privilege of doing for those who 
 were in a sadder condition than that of orphans — 
 who were lost. Her heart and her judgment were in 
 singular unanimity in the final disposition. 
 
 She provided a life annuity for her parents, ample 
 for their necessities. Also devised that the children 
 should receive amounts sufficient for their support and 
 education, until their schooling should be completed, 
 whether literary or professional, or both. In this no 
 discrimination was made in favor of her own daughter. 
 All shared alike. To the Burman servant she gave a 
 sum considerably more than sufficient to pay her pas- 
 sage back to her home in India. Then the Mission- 
 ary Union was to receive the residue. At that time 
 there was prospect of good returns from the publish- 
 ers of the various books to which reference has been 
 made; but this income has no doubt greatly diminished. 
 
 By turning to the Treasurer's reports we find that 
 her benevolence while living was by no means stinted. 
 Such entries as the following are indicative of a con- 
 secration of definite returns to the missionary work : 
 " Mrs. E. C. Judson, for money received from publish- 
 ers of the Memoir of Sarah B. Judson, $132.12." Ditto, 
 the following month, $112.77. Again, $517.83. The 
 
l68 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 first two gifts were made from Maulmain, in the sor- 
 row and uncertainty of her first months of widowhood. 
 She seems to have had the full development of the 
 Judson characteristic, viz. : Once for the heathen, al- 
 ways and all for the heathen. It is probable that she 
 gave more to the Missionary Union than it ever ex- 
 pended on her account, besides the support rendered 
 by advocating the missionary enterprise in her writ- 
 ings. 
 
 The time for her removal from the land of her 
 affliction came steadily, but not so speedily as her 
 friends supposed it would. True, she had wasted away 
 until she seemed as one dead, and her faculties had lost 
 their cunning. The Spring brought no revival of 
 strength nor renewal of vitality ; yet it gratified her 
 life-long love for sunshine and flowers, the emblems of 
 the glorified life to which she was going. While the 
 "outward man "was perishing, the inward was being 
 renewed. Though constantly losing physical ability, 
 she was continually gaining spiritual strength; so that 
 when her death was announced as very near, she 
 quickly rallied from the slight shock it gave her, as 
 she thought of helpless parents and her " little Emmy," 
 and was very soon perfectly composed She was weary. 
 For a life-time she had not been free from care, toil and 
 pain, and now she saw the release. 
 
 She had been fitted by her sufferings to look prop- 
 erly upon death and heaven. " It is not," she said, "the 
 pearly gates and golden streets of heaven that attract 
 me ; it is its perfect rest in the presence of my Savior. 
 It will be so sweet after a life of care and toil like mine 
 — though a very pleasant one it has been, and I am 
 
A MEMORIAL. 169 
 
 only weary of the care and toil because I have not 
 strength to endure them. This lack of strength is 
 dreadful. I have been wasted to a mere skeleton, and 
 suffered the most excruciating pain, but it was nothing 
 in comparison with my present sufferings." Further : 
 "I. have not one pain to spare. I feel sure that God 
 will never send a pain that I do not really need to fit 
 me for the rest I hope to enjoy in heaven." 
 
 She had been ill during so much of her life that 
 she had seen occasion to cultivate the more necessary 
 virtues ; and these were brought as nearly to perfec- 
 tion as they are ordinarily found to be in this world. 
 She triumphed over the fear of the grave, and over the 
 pain of separation from dependent ones. I,ike one 
 going to a far country, expecting to be followed, but 
 only after a protracted period, she was anxious to make 
 the most possible of existing opportunities for in- 
 dulging the affections and preparing for the separation. 
 Each morning she insisted on being dressed and car- 
 ried down stairs, in order to enjoy the society of the 
 loved while permitted to live. 
 
 At length her favorite month arrived — " gladsome, 
 joyous June." She had wished to die in this month, 
 and confidently expected to do so. God had shown 
 his regard for her, his suffering saint, by revealing to 
 her the time of this event. His secret is with them 
 that fear Him. The first day of June was one of the 
 loveliest ever known in the lovely village of Hamilton. 
 Birds and flowers vied with each other for supremacy, 
 and, in her own words, " the rich, warm flush of sum- 
 mer noon rested on the golden hills" 
 
 In the morning she was aroused by her sister, who 
 
170 EMIIyY C. JUDSON. 
 
 inquired, "Emily, do you know that it is June?" 
 "Yes; my month to die." "She was dressed," the 
 account continues, "and carried down stairs as usual; 
 but in the afternoon one of her terrible attacks of 
 suffocation came on, occasioned by the utter wasting 
 of her lungs. She lingered until ten in the evening 
 in great agony; the pain then subsided, and after a 
 few minutes, sweetly and tranquilly, without a groan 
 or the movement of a muscle, she breathed out her 
 life on the bosom of her sister.'' 
 
 On the following morning, Saturday, announcement 
 of the event was made in the University chapel, ac- 
 companied with a general invitation to the students to 
 visit the bereaved home during the day and take a 
 final view of the deceased. It was fitting that those 
 whose appreciation of such a character was being cul- 
 tivated should have this opportunity ; and one by one 
 the mournful company, who had heard of her in terms 
 of praise, or seen her in weeds in the sanctuary on 
 Sabbath mornings, filed to and from the home she had 
 rendered so precious by her earnings and her beautiful 
 death. The institution felt that the genii of the local- 
 ity had lost their star. 
 
 The Sabbath came, dawning in splendor and still- 
 ness. Her pew was vacant. Early in the afternoon, 
 after a brief service at the home, a procession of 
 friends bore the remains northward, along the walk on 
 the west side of the main street, beneath the maples 
 and before the beds of flowers that regaled the living 
 and seemed to bedeck the dead. Reaching the cem- 
 etery, the body was lowered to its bed in the lot the 
 deceased herself had provided ; then the company re- 
 
A MEMORIAL. 171 
 
 turned and entered the church to complete the obse- 
 quies. The large house was full, floor and galleries. 
 The family pew and those adjoining were occupied by 
 the relatives and immediate sympathizers — the Judson 
 children, Miss Anable, Dr. Peck, Corresponding Secre- 
 tary Missionary Union, and others. Rev. George W. 
 Eaton, D. D., president of the Theological Seminary, 
 preached a most appropriate and impressive sermon, 
 on the words "But some have fallen asleep." He 
 gave a succinct review of the noble career of Mrs. 
 Judson, with which he had been fully conversant, and 
 paid a just tribute to her many virtues. 
 
 A short time previous to her death she had ordered 
 to be placed on her lot in the cemetery a simple, neat 
 head-stone, to be inscribed 
 
 dftg Dusbano 
 
 and 
 2lngel Gbarles. 
 
 At the side oi this simple cenotaph, after her burial 
 there, loving hands erected a similar stone, and upon 
 it placed the expressive words, 
 
 ©ear BmtlB. 
 
 Students and visitors to Hamilton will continue to 
 seek the quiet spot where the dust of Fanny Forester 
 reposes and flowers bloom. There, too, they will find 
 the graves of the parents for whose lives she gave her 
 youthful powers, and who early followed her to the 
 L,and of Rest. 
 
 Hamilton rejuvenates year by year, sloughing off 
 the old and putting on the new. June comes at her 
 appointed times and decorates these humble graves, 
 
172 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 with the faithfulness of one loving and loved. The 
 community has changed again and again ; the Univer- 
 sity and even its name, have changed ; Alderbrook is 
 barely a name ; but Nature maintains her identity and 
 Heaven its reality. Others have come upon the stage 
 of intellectual action and justly obtained recognition, 
 while Emily Chubbuck, in common with others of 
 great merit, is cherished by. the diminishing number 
 who remember what she did, or by those who may 
 stumble upon a copy of the "Alderbrook " or the 
 " Olio." 
 
 More than one-third of a century has passed since 
 that beautiful Sunday on which Hamilton people 
 thought of little except the life and character of her 
 whom they were memorializing. They have since 
 followed other distinguished persons to their graves, 
 and she has receded from view ; yet equally long has 
 she been developing in the perfect life, amid unfading 
 glories. Many of the excellent 'of the earth, not re- 
 nowned, have followed her from the same church, and 
 the stream along which they walk and the fruits they 
 gather, and the light and love they enjoy, are a thou- 
 sand-fold more satisfying than perpetual remembrance 
 on earth. 
 
 There is, however, a reproductiveness in a good life 
 which adds a charm to history. The seeds of kindness 
 find a lodgment in so many places that results are 
 perpetuated, and he is a poor observer who does not 
 discover them. Moreover, they are very ungrateful, 
 and losers of a fine inspiration, who, knowing of them, 
 fail to so enshrine them as to assure their permanent 
 benefits in this world. The good fruit will be greater 
 as the memorials are better preserved. 
 
A MEMORIAL. 173 
 
 The author can scarcely keep back the statement 
 that his admiration for the character of Mrs. Judson, 
 strengthened by his stay at Hamilton during her last 
 years, was a motive of some prominence to the writing 
 of this biography. He hopes to bring it to the atten- 
 tion of the youth of this country for their study. 
 Such an example of love and loyalty, and of superior- 
 ity to circumstances, must not be allowed to pass into 
 oblivion. Many a despairing child of misfortune see- 
 ing it may take heart again. 
 
 And thus, when character has been made, there 
 will be readiness for the world's work and opportunity 
 to obtain its highest immunities. The cause of God 
 and of man is constantly demanding true power. When 
 ready to do good service, the door will open. Good 
 missionaries are made of those who have quality ; not 
 of such as may be conformed to a particular pattern. 
 With the right discipline they will seize an occasion, 
 meet circumstances, and bring something to pass. 
 Had Mrs. Judson been favored with health and time, 
 her record might not have been surpassed among the 
 women on the field. She took hold of the language 
 with zeal and zest, and made rapid headway in acquir- 
 ing it; was able, after a short time, to render Dr. 
 Judson aid on his dictionary, and to write Burmese 
 elegantly. Her sympathy with missionary work is 
 best conveyed in her own lines: 
 
 To loose the prisoned flutterer's wing, 
 Touch the degraded spirit's spring, 
 To give a songster to the sky, 
 A voice to swell the choir on high, — 
 Oh, if there be for man a bliss, 
 Above what angels feel, 'tis this ! 
 
174 EMILY C. JUDSON. 
 
 A very just and appreciative estimate of her char- 
 acter was given in the Missionary Magazine, after her 
 death, undoubtedly from the pen of the accomplished 
 Secretary, Dr. Solomon Peck. The following is an 
 extract : 
 
 Not only was her choice of a missionary life made from 
 a sense of religious duty, and with entire simplicity of aim, 
 but it must be said — in justice to her memory and on the 
 testimony of those best situated to form an intelligent 
 judgment — that for it she had evident aptitude and quali- 
 fication. The comparative brevity of her term of service, 
 and the quiet uniformity of labor in which her husband 
 was for the most part engaged, prevented as full a dis- 
 closure of these qualities as might have been made under 
 different circumstances. But she endeared herself to her 
 missionary associates, and her name is still mentioned 
 with gratitude by Burmese of her own sex, who were ob- 
 jects of her affectionate and Christian solicitude. And no 
 one who compares her earlier with her later writings can 
 fail to see how the great enterprise, to which her life was 
 at length given, at once, heightened their tone and lent 
 increased weight and force to her pen. 
 
 Her departure was tranquil, as it had been long ex- 
 pected. Her work was done — in the judgment of man, 
 we must believe, and, we may hope, in the sight of Him 
 whose favor she counted the supreme good of her soul — 
 well done. 
 
A MEMORIAL. 175 
 
 XIV. 
 
 gxtpplementctvig— "madness of the 
 
 MISSIONARY ENTERPRISE." 
 
 " Year by year, and sun by sun, 
 Grows the work of Christ begun ; 
 
 Heart by heart, and soul by soul, 
 Speeds the bright Millennial goal ; 
 
 Land by land, and sea by sea, 
 Yields the shout of victory.'' 
 
 THIS tribute of honor will be most fittingly concluded 
 by giving parts of the article on the " Madness of the 
 Missionary Enterprise"; the first and the last para- 
 graphs, omitting the main, the satirical and argumen- 
 tative portions. Let it be remembered that fully forty 
 years of triumph and trophy have elapsed since they were 
 written. Mrs. Judson's day was one of faith ; ours one of 
 sight. How well she honored the draft upon her faith the 
 following will indicate: 
 
 As I stood not long since in the shadow of the 
 Hopia tree, overlooking the mouldering ashes of one 
 who, in the words of the early Jerusalem church, had 
 " hazarded her life for Christ," and as I thought of all 
 she had suffered, all she had done and dared, the words 
 of her reviewer rushed upon my mind with almost 
 overpowering force. Boodhistic temples and pagodas 
 still decorate the little promontory on which her grave 
 is made ; and monks, with shaven crowns and trailing 
 yellow robes, still promenade the streets, and are rev- 
 
176 EMILY C. JTJDSON. 
 
 erenced as oracles by the blinded idolaters of Amherst, 
 while all that remains to tell of her is this grassy 
 mound and this mildewed, mossy marble. And may 
 it not, after all, be true that her sacrifice was vain — 
 that " the enterprise was uncalled for," — "that she had 
 
 better have remained at home?" 
 
 ****** 
 
 Is this wise? — is it reasonable? — will it do any 
 good ? — inquires the stranger ; and while he sits down 
 to doubt and cavil and search for lions in the way, the 
 unquestioning child goes away and does the Father's 
 bidding. That which is madness and folly in the eyes 
 of one, is regarded by the other as but a simple, affec- 
 tionate, trustful act of obedience to Him who has the 
 right to control and the power to protect. They have 
 no fears of what the end may be when He who sees 
 the end from the beginning is directing them. They 
 have not to experiment, and question, and tread doubt- 
 fully along the tangled wilderness of life. They have 
 a great, unerring Guide, and it is their glory to follow 
 His voice and cling to His hand through whatever He 
 shall choose to lead them ; to believe, to trust, to re- 
 joice in Him, even in the midst of temporary afflic- 
 tions. And thus it is that they shrink not from the 
 privations and dangers and difficulties incident to His 
 service, feeling it their highest honor to be permitted 
 to suffer for His sake. Oh, the love of Christ ! the love 
 of Christ! this it is which constitutes the spirit and 
 essence of missionary devotion; and to those who 
 have never drunk from the delicious fountain, who 
 have not yet been made subjects of that wondrous 
 prayer, "As thou hast loved me," it may well be 
 looked upon as infatuation. 
 
A MEMORIAL. 177 
 
 But " what has been the fruit of all these labors 
 and sufferings — of all these privations, sacrifices, sick- 
 nesses and deaths?" Nothing to become the ground 
 of boasting, certainly ; but enough to make all heaven 
 rejoice. Simply the maturing of a few early clusters 
 of grapes, where only the thorn-tree grew ; the gather- 
 ing of a few golden sheaves from the arid soil which 
 never bore even a blade of grass before. And this is 
 surely worth the labor, if only as the precursor of a 
 more bountiful harvest. But this is not all that has 
 been done. Behold the rivers of water on their fertil- 
 izing course through the desert ; look upon the shores 
 and fields laid in long, rich furrows by the gospel, 
 plow-share, or stirred. and leveled, and wetted with the 
 dews of heaven, waiting for the sower's coming ! And 
 there are panting hearts, and extended hands, and 
 ready feet, waiting, even as the Master wills it, to scat- 
 ter the seed or gather in the harvest. 
 
 Ay, go traverse America from the borders of fair 
 New England to the sounding shores of the Pacific ; 
 count, if they can be counted, the various missionary 
 organizations that have sprung up within the last half 
 century. Go watch the movements of the thousands 
 and tens of thousands of churches by which Christen- 
 dom is bespangled, and see with what simultaneous 
 action they step forth to the support of the mighty 
 enterprise. Nay, look even at the female sewing cir- 
 cle, the Sunday school contribution, the infant's penny 
 box ; for know that such are the tiny rills which feed 
 the measureless ocean. Go catch the watchword, "To 
 every creature! To every creature!" which sounds 
 forth a simultaneous shout from missionary societies 
 
178 BMII.Y C. JUDSON. 
 
 of every evangelical sect; for this one point admits of 
 no jarring or discord. Go to the records of the, Bible 
 Society and number the tribes and nations who have 
 already received the Word of God in their own tongue ; 
 then turn to these same nations and see them quiver- 
 ing like the leaves of November before the invisible 
 power which is stealing so irresistibly over them. Go, 
 on a holy Sabbath morning, and follow the course of 
 the sun, as he rises on the easternmost port of China, 
 till he climbs over the rocky hills of the far West to 
 garnish the infant spires of Oregon and California. 
 And what changes have not fifty — thirty — ten — nay, 
 five years wrought throughout that Sabbath track ! 
 How the music of the church-bells thrills upon the 
 Christian's heart, as on, from port to port, he takes his 
 joyous way! How few and inconsiderable the spots 
 from which the voice of prayer and praise ascends not, 
 and in which that "Light of the world," a Christian 
 church, has not been kindled. 
 
 "And what may reasonably be expected to be the 
 fruit?" Ah! that is a theme to stir the golden harps of 
 heaven anew, and make the wide earth vibrate to the 
 joyful harmony. It looks forward to a time when the 
 great family of man shall be united in one holy brother- 
 hood; and there shall be no more war, no more oppres- 
 sion and cruelty, no sinning and no woe. So shall the 
 crimson stain be wiped from the brow of the nations ; 
 and the lamb and the dove shall nestle in the shadow 
 of the Cross — their peaceful emblems. Then shall the 
 strong protect the weak, and the greatest and most 
 powerful become voluntary servants of the lowly ; for 
 the highest type of greatness will be to benefit man- 
 
A MEMORIAL. 179 
 
 kind. This is no poetical illusion — no fair Utopian 
 fancy; nor even a half-formed expectation based on 
 man's weak reason. The believing child knows as 
 certainly as he knows there is a God in heaven that 
 the mission enterprise can not fail until it usher in 
 that Sabbath of the world — the Christian Jubilee. And 
 he knows that in that day of Eden purity, and more 
 than Eden elevation, when the lamb and the lion shall 
 lie down together, and Holiness shall be inscribed even 
 on the bells of the horses — when the empire of the 
 Son of God shall extend " from sea to sea and from 
 the rivers unto the ends of the Earth " — there will be 
 in the history of the past no brighter page than the 
 humble tracery of these small beginnings. And when, 
 at last, the heavens are rolled together as a scroll, and 
 the earth disappears from among her sister planets, 
 the fruits of this enterprise shall give richness to the 
 bloom of heaven; and transmuted to enduring jewels, 
 shall glow with resplendent brilliancy in the crown of 
 man's Redeemer. 
 
BKTWNEDTOS^ 
 
 CONSERVATION 1995