ANNA HINDERER, AND THE GOSPEL IN THE YORUBA COUNTRY

'The White Man's Grave' and 'No White Man's Land' are the ominous names that have been bestowed on several unhealthy countries where Europeans have been compelled to reside; but there were none, fifty years ago, more deserving of being so described than Ashantee, Dahomey, and the Yoruba country. Nothing but the prospect of growing rich rapidly would persuade a white man, unless he were a missionary, to live in any of those countries, and a European woman was almost unknown there.

One of the first white women to risk the dangers of the Yoruba climate was Anna Hinderer, to whom belongs the honour of being the first of her colour to visit Ibadan. It was not, however, a mere visit that she paid to this unhealthy West African town; for seventeen years she lived there with her husband, devoting herself almost entirely to educating the native children.

Her mother died when she was five years old, and it was probably owing to her own childhood being sad and lonely that Anna Martin, afterwards Mrs. Hinderer, early in life began to take an interest in the welfare of poor and neglected children. In 1839, when only twelve years of age, she went to live with her grandfather at Lowestoft, and soon made two lifelong friends. They were the Rev. Francis Cunningham, Vicar of Lowestoft, and his wife, who was sister of that noble Quakeress, Elizabeth Fry. The friendship began by Anna Martin asking Mrs. Cunningham to be allowed to take a Sunday School class. She feared that being only twelve years old her request would not be entertained, but to her great joy it was granted at once. A little later she went to live with the Cunninghams, and was never so happy as when assisting in some good work. When only fourteen years of age she started a class for ragged and neglected children, and eventually she had as many as two hundred pupils. Many other schemes for the happiness of children were suggested by her, and, with the aid of Mr. and Mrs. Cunningham, successfully carried out.

Anna Martin had long wished to be a missionary when she made the acquaintance of the Rev. David Hinderer, who had returned to England after labouring for four years in the Yoruba country, which stretches inland from the Bight of Benin almost to the Niger Territory, and is bordered on the west by Dahomey. Anna Martin was deeply interested in all that Mr. Hinderer told her of his little-known land, where lived some three million heathen, broken up into many tribes, but speaking one language. Before long the missionary asked Anna Martin to become his wife, and on October 14, 1852, they were married at the old parish church of Lowestoft.

Seven weeks after their marriage Mr. and Mrs. Hinderer started for Africa, and arrived at Lagos on Christmas Eve. Mrs. Hinderer had suffered greatly from sea-sickness throughout the voyage, and three weeks after her arrival at Lagos she had her first attack of African fever. It was a sharp one, and left her very weak, but as soon as she was sufficiently strong to travel they started in canoes for Abeokuta. This was indeed a trying journey for a young woman who had been accustomed to the comforts of a well-to-do English home; but she had, of course, made up her mind to bear hardships in her Master's service, and whether they were sleeping in a village or in a tent pitched by the river-side, with fires lighted to keep wild beasts at a distance, she made no complaint. Sometimes she was home-sick, but these natural fits of depression soon passed away.

On arriving at Abeokuta Anna Hinderer had another severe attack of fever, which, as she stated in her diary, edited many years later by Archdeacon Hone, and published with the title Seventeen Years in the Yoruba Country, left her so weak that she could hardly lift her hand to her head. Her husband was also down with fever; a missionary with whom they were staying died of it; and, a few weeks later, another missionary passed suddenly away. A more gloomy beginning to a young worker's missionary career there could scarcely have been, but Anna Hinderer was far from being disheartened, and was eager to reach their destination.

At last they arrived at Ibadan. Mr. Hinderer had made known that he was bringing her, and when the news, 'the white mother is come,' spread through the village, men, women and children rushed out to see her. Very few of them had ever seen a white woman, for, as already stated, Anna Hinderer was the first to visit Ibadan, and their curiosity was somewhat embarrassing. They followed her to her new home, and for days hung about in crowds, anxious to catch a glimpse of her.

The mission-house was not an attractive or comfortable place. It consisted of one room, 30 feet by 6. Anna Hinderer had to exercise her ingenuity in making it appear homelike. How she managed to do this we gather from the following extract from a letter written by Dr. Irving, R.N., who visited Ibadan shortly after they had settled down:—

'Mr. and Mrs. Hinderer at present live in such a funny little place; quite a primitive mud dwelling, where no two persons can walk abreast at one time. And yet there is an air of quiet domestic comfort and happiness about it that makes it a little palace in my eyes. It is unfortunate, however, for my temples, for in screwing in at one door and out at the other, forgetting to stoop at the proper time, my head gets many a knock. At one end, six feet square, is the bedroom, separated from the dining-room by a standing bookcase; my bedroom is at one end of this, formed by a sofa, and my privacy established by a white sheet, put across for a screen at bedtime.'

In a very short time Anna Hinderer became popular with the women and children, and set to work to learn the language. The boys being eager to learn English she would point to a tree, pig, horse, or anything near by, and the youngsters would tell her the Yoruba name for it. In return she told them the English name. But long before she had acquired anything like a useful knowledge of the language she managed to make the women and children understand that Sunday was a day of rest, and was delighted to see that many of them followed her example and gave up their Sunday occupations. The women were indeed deeply attached to her. If she looked hot they fanned her, and whenever they saw that she was tired they insisted upon her sitting down. When she had an attack of fever they were greatly distressed, and constantly inquiring how she was progressing.

Having at last acquired a fair knowledge of the Yoruba language, Anna Hinderer started a day school for children, and to nine little boys who were regular in their attendance she gave a blue shirt each, of which they were immensely proud. A little later she prevailed upon a chief to allow his two children to come and live with her. One was a girl six years of age, and the other her brother, two years younger. Throughout the day the little ones were very happy, but towards evening the girl wanted to go home. She was evidently frightened, and was overheard saying to her brother, "Don't stay. When it gets dark the white people kill and eat the black." Both, then, ran off home, but returned the following morning. A few days later the boy, in spite of his sister's warnings, stayed all night. The girl left him in great distress, and at daybreak was waiting outside the mission-house, anxious to see if he were still alive. Her astonishment on finding that he had been treated as kindly after dark as during daylight was great.

It was no easy task to manage a school of native children, but, nevertheless, the experience she had gained among the Lowestoft children made the task lighter than otherwise it would have been. 'Happy, happy years were those I spent with you,' she wrote to Mr. Cunningham, 'and entirely preparatory they have been for my work and calling.' She managed to impress upon her dusky little pupils that it was necessary to wash more than once or twice a week, and that they must keep quiet during school and service.

One day while her husband was preaching he referred to idols, and quoted the Psalm, 'They have mouths, and speak not.' No sooner had he said this than Mrs. Hinderer's boys burst into loud laughter, and shouted, in their own language, 'True, very true.'

Soon after their temporary church—a large shed covered with palm leaves—had been completed and opened there came a period of trial. Mrs. Hinderer's horse stumbled and fell upon her, and although no bones were broken she found later that she had received an injury which troubled her until her death. No sooner had she recovered from the shaking she had received, than her husband had a bad attack of fever. It was believed that he would die, but she nursed him day and night, and eventually had the great joy of seeing him recover. But soon she was seriously ill. Inflammation of the lungs set in, and for a time her life seemed to be drawing to a close, but she recovered, and was before long once more at work among the women and children.

It was about this time that Mrs. Hinderer wrote to her Lowestoft friends:—'You will not think me egotistical, but this I do think, if I am come to Africa for nothing else, I have found the way to a few children's hearts, and, if spared, I think I shall not, with God's blessing, find it very difficult to do something with them. My boys that I have now would never tell me an untruth, or touch a cowry or anything they should not. This is truly wonderful in heathen boys, brought up all their lives, hitherto, in the midst of every kind of deceit.'

After a stay at Abeokuta for the benefit of her health, Anna Hinderer returned to Ibadan, to find the new church and mission-house finished. The natives had taken great interest in the building of the mission-house, and, soon after the Hinderers' return, the head chief, accompanied by his wives and a host of attendants, came to see it. They received a cordial welcome, but so many people swarmed into the house that Mr. Hinderer began to fear it would collapse, and had to keep out scores who wished to enter. The chief found much to amuse him in this European-furnished house, and was immensely amused when for the first time he saw himself in a looking-glass. His wives were shown round by Mrs. Hinderer, and arriving at the bed-room they pointed to a washstand and asked its use. For reply Mrs. Hinderer poured out some water and washed her hands. Now the chief's wives had never before seen soap, and to dry their hands after washing was a proceeding of which they had never heard; therefore each became anxious to there and then wash their hands in European fashion. Water was splashed about the floor and wall, and when they wiped their hands the indigo dye from their clothes ruined the towel.

Anna Hinderer, although frequently in bad health, continued her work among the children with unabated enthusiasm, and in November, 1885, she had the joy of seeing eight of them baptized. Two months later the state of her health made it imperative that she should proceed to Lagos for a rest. Her husband accompanied her, but both were eager to get back to their work, and were absent for only a few weeks. But during that short time much had happened at Ibadan. The natives had begun to persecute the converts, and some had forbidden their children to attend the church or mission-school.

One girl who refused to give up attending church was shamefully treated. A rope was tied round her body, and she was dragged through the streets while the mob beat her with sticks and stoned her. As she lay bleeding and half dead the native idols were brought out and placed before her. 'Now she bows down,' the mob cried; but the girl answered. 'No, I do not; you have put me here. I can never bow down to gods of wood and stone who cannot hear me.' Eventually, after suffering ill-treatment daily, she ran away to Abeokuta.

For the next seven months Anna Hinderer continued without ceasing to teach the children, nurse those who were sick, and adopt any little girl-baby who had been deserted by her inhuman parents. Then Mr. Hinderer, after six months' illness, was stricken with yellow fever, and it became imperative that he should go to England for his health's sake. On August 1, 1856, Mr. and Mrs. Hinderer sailed from Lagos for home. And yet Anna Hinderer did not feel as if she were going home, but that she were leaving it, for Ibadan was beloved by her. Husband and wife were in bad health throughout the voyage, and the captain's parting words to the latter as she went ashore at England were:—'You must not come to sea again; it cannot be your duty. A few more voyages must kill you.' Nevertheless, two years later, Anna Hinderer and her husband, restored in health, were back at Ibadan.

Two years of hard work followed. The school was filled, the natives had ceased from persecuting the converts, and the prospects of missionary work were brighter than ever, when suddenly the news came that the fiendish King of Dahomey was marching on Abeokuta. Mr. and Mrs. Hinderer were at Abeokuta when the news arrived, and at once they hastened back to Ibadan, although there was a danger of being captured and tortured by the invading force. They reached Ibadan in safety, only, however, to find that the chief of that place was at war with the chief of Ijaye, a neighbouring town. The place was full of excitement and a human sacrifice was offered, the victim, prior to the ceremony, walking proudly through the town.

Anna Hinderer and her husband could at first have made their way to the coast, but they decided to remain with their converts and pupils. It was a bitter war, and soon the Hinderers were cut off from all communication with their fellow-missionaries in the Yoruba country. Supplies ran short, and they were compelled to sell their personal belongings to obtain food for themselves and the children. 'We sold a counterpane and a few yards of damask which had been overlooked by us;' runs an entry in Anna Hinderer's diary, 'so that we indulge every now and then in one hundred cowries' worth of meat (about one pennyworth), and such a morsel seems a little feast to us in these days.' Many of the native women were exceedingly kind to Anna Hinderer in the time of privation. The woman who had supplied them with milk insisted upon sending it regularly, although told that they had no money to pay for it.

For four years the Hinderers were almost entirely cut off from communication with the outer world, but they continued their labours unceasingly throughout this trying time. The girls' sewing class had, however, to be discontinued, for the very good reason that their stock of needles and cotton was exhausted. It was a time of great privation, but Anna Hinderer, although frequently compelled to endure the gnawing pangs of hunger, always managed to keep her native children supplied with food.

At last relief came. The Governor of Lagos had made one or two unsuccessful attempts to relieve the Hinderers, and in April, 1865, devised a means of escape. He despatched Captain Maxwell with a few trustworthy men, to cut a new track through the bush.

It was a difficult undertaking, but successfully accomplished, and one night, about ten o'clock, the Hinderers were surprised to see Captain Maxwell enter the mission-house. He brought with him supplies, and also a hammock for Mrs. Hinderer's use on the return journey.

It was somewhat of a surprise to the gallant officer to find that the missionaries for whom he had performed a difficult and dangerous journey were by no means anxious to return with him. It was the more surprising as it was plain that both were in very bad health. Mr. Hinderer declared that he could not possibly leave his mission at seven hours' notice, but he joined the captain in urging his wife to go, assuring her that it was her duty to do so. At last she was prevailed upon to avail herself of the means of escape. She was overcome with grief at leaving her husband shut up in Ibadan, and her distress was increased by her inability to say 'good-bye' to the little native children to whom she had acted a mother's part. They were asleep, and to have awakened them would have been unwise, for there would certainly have been loud crying, had the little ones been told that their "white mother" was leaving them. Their crying would have been heard beyond the mission-house compound, and the news of Mrs. Hinderer's approaching departure would have spread through the town, in which there were probably spies of the enemy.

Seven hours after Captain Maxwell arrived he began his dangerous return journey, his men carrying Mrs. Hinderer in the hammock. They proceeded by forced marches, keeping at the same time a sharp look-out for the enemy, who would, they knew, promptly kill any Christian who fell into their power. On several occasions they suddenly found themselves so close to the enemy that they could hear their voices, but, fortunately, they were not discovered. On the third day, however, they heard that their departure had become known to the enemy, who was in hot pursuit. It was a terribly anxious time for the invalid missionary, but Captain Maxwell and his men were determined that she should not be captured. Silently and without halting once, even for food, they hurried on hour after hour, and finally arrived at Lagos, having done a six days' journey in less than three and a half. So carefully had Captain Maxwell's men carried Anna Hinderer that she was little the worse for the journey, and after a few days' rest sailed for England. Two months later her husband followed.

In the autumn of the following year Anna Hinderer and her husband returned to Ibadan, where they were received joyfully. Anna Hinderer resumed her work with all her former enthusiasm and love, although she found before long that she had not sufficient strength to do all that she had done formerly.

Two years later the chiefs of the neighbouring tribes decided to expel all white men from their territory, and they urged the Ibadan chiefs to adopt a similar policy. The only white people in Ibadan were the missionaries, and these they refused to expel. Announcing their decision to the Hinderers, the chiefs said: 'We have let you do your work, and we have done ours, but you little know how closely we have watched you. Your ways please us. We have not only looked at your mouths but at your hands, and we have no complaint to lay against you. Just go on with your work with a quiet mind; you are our friends, and we are yours.'

Another two years of hard work followed. The schools were flourishing, and among the pupils were children of the little ones whom, many years previously, Anna Hinderer had taken into her home and cared for. The chiefs continued to be friendly, and only one thing was wanting to make Anna Hinderer perfectly happy. Frequent attacks of fever had so weakened her that she began to feel that the work was beyond her strength. Her husband, too, was never free from pain. They recognised that they could not live much longer in Africa. Gladly they would have remained and died at Ibadan, but for the knowledge that their work could now be better carried on by younger missionaries. So with a sad heart Anna Hinderer bade farewell to the people among whom she had bravely toiled for seventeen years. She had lost the sight of one eye, and the specialist whom she consulted in London assured her that had she remained much longer in Africa she would have become totally blind.

Although in a very weak state of health Anna Hinderer was not content to remain idle, and in her native county of Norfolk began to interest herself in factory girls and other children of the poor. She was always cheerful, and few people knew how much she was suffering from the effects of years of hard work and privation in a pestilential country. She died on June 6, 1870, aged forty-three; and when the sad news reached Ibadan there was great sorrow in the town, and the Christian Church which she had helped to plant there forwarded to her husband a letter of consolation and thankfulness for the work which she had done among them.

ANN JUDSON, PIONEER WOMAN IN BURMA

Ann Judson was not only the first American woman to enter the foreign mission field, but also the first lady missionary, or missionary's wife, to visit Rangoon. She was the daughter of Mr. John Hasseltine, of Bradford, Massachusetts, and was born on December 22, 1789. When nearly seventeen years of age she became deeply impressed by the preaching of a local minister, and decided to do all in her power towards spreading the Gospel. Sunday Schools had been started in America about 1791, but they were very few. Bradford did not possess one, and probably it was not known there that such schools existed anywhere. Ann Hasseltine, being desirous of instructing the children in religious knowledge, adopted the only course which occurred to her as likely to lead to success; she became a teacher in an ordinary day school.

When she had been engaged in this and other Christian work about four years, she made the acquaintance of Adoniram Judson, a young man who had recently been accepted for work in the East Indies, by the newly formed American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions. Before they had known each other many months, Judson asked Ann Hasseltine to become his wife and accompany him to India. He did not conceal from her that in all probability her life as a missionary's wife would be full of hardships and trials, but, after considering the matter for some days, she promised to marry him, providing that her father gave his consent. Judson wrote to Mr. Hasseltine, and after stating that he had asked his daughter to become his wife, and that she had consented, continued: 'I have now to ask whether you can consent to part with your daughter early next spring, to see her no more in this world; whether you can consent to her departure for a heathen land, and her subjection to the hardships and sufferings of a missionary life; whether you can consent to her exposure to the dangers of the ocean; to the fatal influence of the southern climate of India; to every kind of want and distress; to degradation, insult, persecution, and perhaps a violent death. Can you consent to all this for the sake of Him who left His heavenly home and died for her and for you; for the sake of perishing immortal souls; for the sake of Zion and the glory of God? Can you consent to all this, in the hope of soon meeting your daughter in the world of glory, with a crown of righteousness brightened by the acclamation of praise which shall redound to her Saviour from heathens saved, through her means, from eternal woe and despair?'

Mr. Hasseltine gave his consent, and on February 5, 1812, his daughter was married to Adoniram Judson. It had now become known throughout the United States that Mrs. Judson intended to accompany her husband to the mission field, and in all quarters her intention was denounced. She was accused of being both imprudent and lacking in modesty. These attacks caused Ann Judson considerable pain, but they did not weaken her determination to accompany her husband. They sailed for India on February 12, and landed at Calcutta on June 18. On the voyage they had for fellow passengers some Baptist missionaries, and the result of their intercourse with them was that ten days after their arrival at Calcutta they were baptised. By this step they lost the support of the Board of Commissioners who had sent them out, but aid was soon sent them by the American Baptists.

Missionary work in India was almost at a standstill when the Judsons arrived at Calcutta. The East India Company had issued an order, withdrawn, however, in the following year, forbidding missionaries to carry on their work in the Company's territory. The Judsons received notice to depart before they had been in the country many months, and were undecided where to go. They were anxious to settle in Rangoon, but everyone assured them that Lower Burma was not yet ripe for missionary work. The Burmese were described to them as little better than fiends, and stories were told of Europeans who had met with torture and death at their hands.

Nevertheless, the Judsons sailed for Rangoon, and in July, 1813, were ascending the Rangoon River, delighted with their first glimpse of the country. On either side of the mighty river was dense jungle, extending far inland. Here and there along the banks were small fishing villages, with quaint little wooden huts built on tall poles to prevent their being flooded or invaded by tigers, cheetahs or snakes. Near every village were several pagodas whose spires rose above the jungle; and there were many pagodas standing far from any habitation.

As the Judsons drew near to Rangoon they saw on the hill, near by, the great Shway Dagon Pagoda with its tall, gilded spire shining in the sun with a brilliancy that was dazzling. But soon they turned from gazing at the Mecca of the Burmese Buddhists to view the town, a big collection of bamboo and mat huts protected by forts with guns, which the people fondly believed would utterly destroy any foreign fleet which dared to ascend the river. Many trading vessels were riding at anchor off the city, and canoes of various sizes and design were passing to and from them. It was a busy scene, made bright by the gorgeous turbans of the rowers, and the brilliant attire of high officials.

Mr. and Mrs. Judson landed at Rangoon not only unmolested, but with a friendly greeting from the natives. These swarmed round them smiling pleasantly, and exhibiting none of the appearances of atrocity-perpetrators. The women were greatly interested in Mrs. Judson, and when she smiled at them they laughed merrily. This unexpectedly pleasant reception greatly cheered the Judsons, and made them eager to begin work. But before they could do this they had to learn the Burmese language, not a word of which they knew. They could not obtain an interpreter, for the reason that no one, with the exception of a few merchants, understood English. The European merchants who at that time lived in Burma were, with scarcely an exception, men of poor character. A missionary was the last person these men would welcome or help.

Having settled down in their home, Mr. and Mrs. Judson began to learn the Burmese language, a difficult task, considering that they had neither dictionary nor grammar to assist them. Mrs. Judson, having to buy food and superintend her servants, soon learnt a few Burmese sentences, but her husband was learning the language scientifically, with the intention of eventually translating the Bible into Burmese. When both knew sufficient Burmese to make themselves understood, they engaged teachers to help them with their studies.

Two years passed, and Mr. and Mrs. Judson were still learning the language. In September, 1815, a son was born to them, but to their great grief he died eight months later, through want of medical attention. When the child was buried, some forty Burmese and Portuguese followed the body to the grave.

In December, 1815, Mr. and Mrs. Judson began to make known to the people the Gospel they had come to Burma to preach. Until then they had wisely refrained from doing so, knowing that mistakes they might make in their speech would bring ridicule upon their religion. But now that they were confident of their knowledge of the language they started hopefully on the work of winning converts.

SARAH JUDSON, PIONEER WOMAN IN BURMA

The boy or the girl who does not at an early age announce what he or she intends to be when 'grown up,' must be a somewhat extraordinary child. The peer's son horrifies his nurse by declaring that he intends to be an engine-driver when he is 'grown up,' and the postman's wife hears with not a little amusement that her boy has decided to be Lord Mayor of London.

These early aspirations are rarely achieved, but there are some notable instances of children remaining true to their ambition and becoming, in time, what they had declared they would be.

Sarah Hall, when quite a little child, announced her intention of becoming a missionary, and a missionary she eventually became. She was born at Alstead, New Hampshire, in 1803, her parents being Ralph and Abiah Hall. They were refined and well-educated, but by no means wealthy, and Sarah would have left school very young, had not the head-mistress, seeing that she was a clever child, retained her as pupil teacher. Quiet, gentle, and caring little for the amusements of girls of her own age, her chief pleasure was in composing verse, much of which is still in existence. The following lines are from her 'Versification of David's lament over Saul and Jonathan,' which was written when she was thirteen years of age:—

The beauty of Israel for ever is fled,
And low lie the noble and strong:
Ye daughters of music, encircle the dead
And chant the funereal song.
Oh, never let Gath know their sorrowful doom,
Nor Askelon hear of their fate;
Their daughters would scoff while we lay in the tomb,
The relics of Israel's great.

At an early age, as already stated, she expressed a wish to be a missionary to the heathen, and the wish grew stronger with increasing years. But suddenly it became evident to her that there was plenty of work waiting for her close at hand. 'Sinners perishing all around me,' she wrote in her journal, 'and I almost panting to tell the far heathen of Christ! Surely this is wrong. I will no longer indulge the vain, foolish wish, but endeavour to be useful in the position where Providence has placed me. I can pray for deluded idolaters and for those who labour among them, and this is a privilege indeed.' She began at once to take an active part in local mission work; but while thus employed her interest in foreign missions did not diminish, and the death of the two young missionaries, Wheelock and Colman, who went to Burma to assist Mr. Judson, made a deep impression on her. Wheelock, while delirious from fever, jumped into the sea and was drowned, and Colman, after a time, died at Arracan from the effects of the unhealthy climate. On hearing of Colman's death she wrote 'Lines on the death of Colman,' the first verse of which is:—

'Tis the voice of deep sorrow from India's shore,
The flower of our Churches is withered and dead,
The gem that shone brightly will sparkle no more,
And the tears of the Christian profusely are shed.
Two youths of Columbia, with hearts glowing warm,
Embarked on the billows far distant to rove,
To bear to the nations all wrapped in thick gloom,
The lamp of the Gospel—the message of love.
But Wheelock now slumbers beneath the cold wave
And Colman lies low in the dark, cheerless grave,
Mourn, daughters of India, mourn!
The rays of that star, clear and bright,
That so sweetly on Arracan shone,
Are shrouded in black clouds of night,
For Colman is gone!

These lines were read by George Dana Boardman, a young man, twenty-four years of age, who had just been appointed to succeed Colman at Arracan. He obtained an introduction to Sarah Hall, and in a short time they became engaged. They were married on July 3, 1825, and thirteen days later sailed for Calcutta, where they landed on December 2. The war in Burma prevented their proceeding to Rangoon, so they settled down at Calcutta, to study the Burmese language with the aid of Mr. Judson's books. At this they were engaged almost continuously until the spring of 1827, when they sailed for Amherst, in Tenasserim, a newly built town in the recently acquired British territory, to which Mr. Judson had removed with his converts soon after the conclusion of the war.

The Boardmans' stay at Amherst was, however, short. Towards the end of May they were transferred to another new city—Moulmein. A year before their arrival the place had been a wide expanse of almost impenetrable jungle; now it had 20,000 inhabitants. Wild beasts and deadly snakes abounded in the jungle around the city and, across the river, in the ruined city of Martaban, dwelt a horde of fiendish dacoits, who occasionally made a night raid on Moulmein, robbing and murdering, and then hurrying back to their stronghold. The Boardmans had been settled in their bamboo hut barely a month when they received a visit from the dacoits. One night Mr. Boardman awoke, to find that the little lamp which they always kept burning was not alight, and suspecting that something was wrong he jumped out of bed and lit it again. The dacoits had entered, and stolen everything they could possibly carry off. Looking-glasses, watches, knives, forks, spoons, and keys had all disappeared. Every box, trunk, and chest of drawers had been forced open, and nothing of any value remained in any of them. This was the first home of their own that the Boardmans had ever had, and to be robbed so soon of practically everything they possessed was indeed hard. They had, however, the satisfaction of knowing that the dacoits had not, as usual, accompanied robbery with murder. But that the dacoits would have murdered them had they awoke while they were plundering was plain. Two holes had been cut in the mosquito curtain near to where Mr. and Mrs. Boardman and their one-year-old child lay, and by these holes dacoits had evidently stood, knife in hand, ready to stab the sleepers if they awoke. It was a great shock to Mrs. Boardman, who was in bad health, but soon she was joining her husband in thanking God for having protected them.

After the robbery the officer commanding the British troops stationed two sepoys outside the mission house, and some idea of the dangers which surrounded the Boardmans may be formed from the fact that one day the sentry was attacked by a tiger.

But, exposed as the Boardmans were to perils of this kind, they continued their work among the rapidly increasing population, and met with considerable success. Many native Christians, converted under Mr. Judson at Rangoon, lived at Moulmein, and consequently the Boardmans' work was not entirely among the unconverted. Indeed, before long nearly all the native Christians in Burma were residing at Moulmein, Amherst having declined in public favour. When the majority of the inhabitants of Amherst migrated to Moulmein the missionaries accompanied them, and soon nearly all the missionaries to Burma were working in one city. Neither the missionary board in America nor Mr. Judson considered this to be wise, and some of the missionaries were removed to other places, Mr. and Mrs. Boardman being sent to Tavoy, some 150 miles south of Moulmein. The dialect of the people of Tavoy differed considerably from Burmese, and the Boardmans had practically to learn a new language. As the written characters of both languages were the same, the task was not very difficult, and before long the missionaries were preaching the Gospel to the Tavoyans.

Soon after they had settled down some Karens invited Mr. Boardman to visit them. Their country was not far away, but the missionary could not as yet leave Tavoy. The Karens, however, told him something that excited his curiosity. A foreigner passing through the land had given them a book, and told them to worship it. They had done so. A high-priest had been appointed, and he had arranged a regular form of worship, Mr. Boardman asked the Karens to let him see the book, and they promised to bring it to him. Soon a deputation, headed by the high-priest, attired in a fantastic dress of his own designing, arrived at Tavoy with the book, which was carefully wrapped up and carried in a basket. On having the book handed to him Mr. Boardman saw that it was a Church of England Prayer-book. He told the Karens that although it was a very good book it was not intended to be worshipped, and they consented to give it to him in exchange for some portions of Scripture in a language they could read. It was never discovered who gave the Prayer-book to the Karens, but it may be taken for granted that they misunderstood the donor's meaning. This book was afterwards sent home to the American Baptist Missionary Society.

On July 8, 1829, Mrs. Boardman was plunged into grief by the death of her little daughter, aged two years and eight months. Other troubles followed quickly. One night Mrs. Boardman was awakened by hearing some native Christians shouting, 'Teacher, teacher, Tavoy rebels!' The inhabitants of Tavoy had revolted against the British Government, and had attempted to seize the powder magazine and armoury. The Sepoys had driven off the rebels, who were, however, far from being disheartened. They burst open the prison, set free the prisoners, and began firing on the mission house. Bullets passed through the fragile little dwelling-place, and the Boardmans would soon have been killed had not some Sepoys fought their way to their assistance, with orders to remove them to Government House. As Mrs. Boardman with her baby boy in her arms hurried through the howling mob of rebels she had several narrow escapes from being shot, but fortunately the whole of the little party from the mission house reached Government House in safety. The Governor of Tavoy was away when the rebellion broke out, and as the steamer in which he had departed was the only means of rapid communication between Tavoy and Moulmein, the little British force settled down to act on the defensive until reinforcements arrived. Soon it was found that Government House would have to be evacuated, and eventually the British and Americans took shelter in a six-room house on the wharf. In this small house the whole of the white population, the soldiers, and the native Christians were sheltered. The rebels, strongly reinforced, attempted to burn them out, but a heavy downfall of rain extinguished the flames before much harm had been done.

At last, to the great relief of the defenders, the governor's steamer was seen approaching. The governor was considerably surprised to find the natives in revolt. Immediately after his arrival he sent his wife and Mrs. Boardman aboard the steamer, which was to hurry to Moulmein for reinforcements. Mrs. Boardman begged to be allowed to remain and share the danger which was threatening both the whites and the native converts, but the governor firmly refused to allow her to do so.

As soon as the rebellion was quelled Mrs. Boardman returned to Tavoy and resumed her work, but troubles now came upon her quickly. On December 2, 1830, her baby boy died, making the second child she had lost within twelve months. Her husband, too, was in very weak health, although still working hard. On March 7, 1831, he reported that he had baptized fifty-seven Karens within two months, and that other baptisms would soon follow. But the latter he did not live to see, for he died of consumption three weeks after writing his report.

The Europeans at Tavoy considered it natural and proper that, now Mrs. Boardman was a widow, she should, return to America, and they were somewhat surprised when she announced her intention of remaining at Tavoy. 'My beloved husband,' she wrote, 'wore out his life in this glorious cause; and that remembrance makes me more than even attached to the work and the people for whose salvation he laboured till death.' As far as possible she took up the duties of her late husband, and every day from sunrise until ten o'clock at night she was hard at work. Her duties included periodical visits to the Karen villages. This was a most unpleasant work for a refined woman, and from the fact that she scarcely ever alluded to these visits we may conclude that she found them extremely trying. But, as there was no man to undertake the work which her late husband had carried on with conspicuous success, she knew unless she did it herself a promising field of missionary enterprise would be uncared for.

Preaching, teaching and visiting was not, however, the only work in which the young widow engaged. She translated into Burmese the Pilgrim's Progress.

Adoniram Judson and Mrs. Boardman had known each other from the day the latter arrived in Burma, and the former, as the head of the missionaries in that country, was well aware of Mrs. Boardman's devotion to duty. On January 31, 1834, he completed his translation of the Scriptures, and on April 10 he and Mrs. Boardman were married.

Mrs. Sarah Judson's home was now once more in Moulmein, and into the work there she threw herself at once heart and soul. She superintended schools, held Bible classes and prayer meetings and started various societies for the spiritual and physical welfare of the women. Finding that there was a large number of Peguans in Moulmein, she learnt their language, and translated into it several of her husband's tracts.

Until 1841 her life was peacefully happy, but in that year a period of trouble began. Her four children were attacked with whooping-cough, which was followed by dysentery, the complaint which in Burma has sent many thousands of Europeans to early graves. No sooner had the children recovered from this distressing illness than Mrs. Sarah Judson fell ill with it, and for a time it was feared that she was dying. As soon as she was able to travel Mr. Judson took her to India, in the hope that a complete rest at Serampore would give her back her strength. She returned in fairly good health, but in December, 1844, she grew so weak that Mr. Judson decided to have his first furlough, and take her home to America. On the voyage she grew worse, and died peacefully while the ship was at anchor at St. Helena. She was buried on shore, and Adoniram Judson, a widower a second time, proceeded on his journey to America.