she had incurred our displeasure, her tender heart seemed ready to burst; and she could not rest for a moment until she had said she was ‘sorry,’ and obtained the kiss of forgiveness.  She had learned to obey us implicitly....  If either of us were ill, she would stroke our foreheads with her little soft hand, and kiss us so affectionately!  Her love to her little brother George was unlimited.  From the day of his birth till the day but one before she died, he was her idol....  Three days before she died, she was lying uneasily in a large swing cradle, and George was in the same room crying.  We thought it might soothe the little sufferer, for he also was very ill, to lay him down beside Sarah.  The proposal delighted her; with smiles she threw open her little arms and for the last time held her darling brother in her fond embrace.  So great was her gratification at this privilege, that she seemed to forget her own pains.

“Little Sarah spoke English remarkably well for so young a child, and Burmese like a native; she could also say some things in the Hindostanee and Karen, and what seems a little singular, she never confounded two languages, but always spoke pure English to us, and pure Burmese to Burmans.  This discrimination continued as long as she had the powers of speech.  She had learned the Lord’s prayer and several little hymns.  Dr. Judson’s lines on the death of Mee Shawayee she knew by heart in Burmese, and used to chant them for half an hour at a time....  These things may seem very trivial to you, but I muse upon them by the hour together; and it is only when I call my cooler judgment into action, that I can make myself believe they are uninteresting to any person on earth.  I love to think of my sweet bud of immortality expanding so beautifully in my own presence; and fancy I can judge in some small degree of the brilliancy of the perfect flower, from these little developments.

“A few hours before she died, she called us to her, kissed us, and passed her dear hand, still full and dimpled as in health, softly over our faces.  The pupils of her eyes were so dilated that she could not see us distinctly, and once, for a moment or two, her mind seemed to be wandering; then looking anxiously into my face, she said:  ’I frightened, mamma!  I frightened!’ ...  Oh with what feelings did I wash and dress her lovely form for the last time, and compose her perfect little limbs; and then see her—­the dear child that had so long lain in my bosom—­borne away to her newly-made grave.  My heart grew faint when I thought that I had performed for her my last office of love; that she would never need a mother’s hand again.

My dear husband performed the funeral service with an aching, though not desponding heart.  The grave is in our own enclosure, about fifteen rods from the house—­a beautiful retired spot, in a grove of Gangau-trees.  Near it is a little Bethel, erected for private devotion.  Thither we have often repaired; and we trust that God, who in his infinite wisdom had taken our treasure to himself, often meets us there.”