No sooner was he gone, than she was seized with that deadly disease, called spotted fever.  What now would become of little Maria?  Through the tender mercy of God, on the very day the mother fell ill, a Burmese woman offered to nurse the babe.  Every day the mother grew worse, till at last the neighbors came in to see her die.  As they stood around, they exclaimed, in their Burmese tongue, “She is dead, and if the king of angels should come in, he could not recover her.” Their king of angels could not, but her KING of ANGELS could, for he can raise the dead.  But this dear lady was not dead, though nearly dead.

The Lord of life showed her mercy.  A friend entered the sick chamber.  It was Dr. Price, a missionary and a prisoner, but who had obtained leave from the king to visit the sick lady.  He understood her case, and he ordered her head to be shaved, and blisters to be applied to her feet.  From that time, she began to recover, and in a month, she had strength to stand up.  The governor, who had once been so slow to hear her complaints, now sent for her to his house.  He received her in the kindest manner.  What was her joy, when she foiled her husband there, not as a prisoner, but as a guest.  Many prayers had she offered up, during her long illness, and they were now answered.  The promise she had trusted in was fulfilled.  This was that promise:  “Call upon me in the day of trouble, and I WILL DELIVER THEE, and thou shalt glorify me.”

But still brighter days were at hand.  The King of Burmah had peace with the British, and had agreed to deliver the missionaries into their hands.  Glad, indeed, were they to escape from the power of the cruel monarch.  Little Maria and her parents, as well as Mary and Abby, were conveyed in a boat down the river to the place where the English army had encamped.  The English general received them with fatherly kindness, and gave them a tent to dwell in near his own.  What a fortnight they spent in that tent.  It was a morning of joy, after a night of weeping.  Little Maria was now, for the first time, dwelling with both her parents.

Soon afterwards she was taken to a new home in a town in Burmah, built by the English.  It was called Amherst[12].  Here the missionary might teach the Burmese to know their Saviour, without being under the power of the cruel Burmese king.

It seemed as if the little family, so long afflicted, were now to dwell in safety, and to labor in comfort.  But there is a rest for the people of God, and to this rest one of this family was soon removed.

The missionary determined to go to Ava, to plead with the king for permission to teach his subjects.  He parted from his beloved wife, little thinking he should never see her again.

During her husband’s absence, she watched with deep anxiety over her little Maria.  The child was pale, and puny, yet very affectionate and intelligent.  Whenever her mamma said, “Where is dear papa gone?” the little creature started up, and pointed to the sea.  She could not speak plainly, for she was only twenty months old.