“You are right, sir,” replied the missionary; “there is no situation so trying, so perilous, and I may say, so weary to the mind and body, as that of a female missionary.  She has to encounter the same perils and the same hardships as her husband, without having the strength of our sex to support them; and what is more painful than all, she is often left alone in the Mission-house, while her husband, who has left her, is proceeding on his duty, at the hourly peril of his life.  There she is alone, and compelled to listen to all the reports and falsehoods which are circulated; at one moment she is told that her husband has been murdered; at another, that he is still alive.  She has no means of hearing from him, as there is no communication throughout the country; thus is she left in this horrible state of suspense and anxiety, perhaps for many weeks.  I have a letter from a brother missionary which is in my writing-desk, wherein the case in point is well portrayed; I will get it, and read that portion to you.”  Mr. S. went to the other end of the room, and came back with a letter, from which he read as follows:—­

“Having been detained among those distant tribes for nearly two months, report upon report had been circulated that the interpreters and guides, as well as myself, had all been murdered.  On my arrival within forty miles of the station, I was informed that all doubt upon the subject had been removed by a party of natives who had passed the Mission station, and who pretended an acquaintance with all the particulars of the massacre.  We had been traveling the whole day, and night had come on; I was most anxious to proceed, that I might relieve the mind of my dear wife, but the earnest remonstrances of my little party, who represented it as certain death to all of us to cross the plains, which were infested with lions and other savage beasts who were prowling in every direction, at length induced me to wait till the next day.  But scarcely had day begun to dawn when I sallied forth, without either arms or guide, except a pocket compass, leaving my fellow-travelers to bring on the wagon as soon as they should arouse from their slumbers.  This impatience had, however, well-nigh cost me my life; for having to wade through many miles of deep sand with a vertical sun over my head, I had not accomplished half the journey before my strength began to fail, and an indescribable thirst was induced.  Nevertheless, I reached the Mission in safety, and with truly grateful feelings to the Preserver of men.  A few minutes prior to my arrival, the wife of one of my brother missionaries, little imagining that I was at hand and alive, had entered our dwelling, to apprise my wife of the latest intelligence, confirming all that had been said before respecting my fate, and to comfort her under the distressing dispensation.  At this affecting crisis, while both were standing in the center of the room, the one relating, the other weeping, I opened the door, bathed in perspiration, covered with dust, and in a state of complete exhaustion.  ‘Oh, dear!’ cried our friend; ‘is it he—­or is it his spirit?’ I must, my dear sir, leave to your imagination the scene that followed.”