was not till he had turned away, and was going down the steps that he burst into a flood of tears.  I hurried to my room; and on my knees, with my whole heart gave him up to God; and my bursting heart was comforted from above....  My reason and judgment tell me that the good of my child requires that he should be sent to America; and this of itself would support me in some little degree; but when I view it as a sacrifice, made for the sake of Jesus, it becomes a delightful privilege....  I cannot but hope he will one day return to Burmah, a missionary of the cross, as his dear father was....  This is in some respects the severest trial I ever met with.”

It would be delightful to accompany the dear boy in his perilous journey to the Father-land, and to transcribe the yearning and affectionate letters of his mother, both to him, and to those to whose charge he was entrusted—­they could not but heighten our opinion of her excellence in the maternal relation, as well as of the great sensibility of her heart; but we are warned that our pages are swelling to too great a number.  Ours is but a sketch, an outline; those who would see the full length portrait of our heroine, must consult the glowing canvass of her biographer and successor, “Fanny Forrester.”

Her next trial was, to see her beloved husband suffering with a severe cough, which she feared would end in pulmonary consumption.  To avert this dreaded result, he was obliged to leave her and try a long sea-voyage.  The account of their parting, and her touching letters during his absence would greatly enrich our little sketch, had we room to copy them.  We must find a place for one short extract from the letters.

“Your little daughter and I have been praying for you this evening....  At times the sweet hope that you will soon return, restored to perfect health, buoys up my spirit, but perhaps you will find it necessary to go farther, a necessity from which I cannot but shrink with doubt and dread; or you may come back only to die with me.  This last agonizing thought crushes me down in overwhelming sorrow.  I hope I do not feel unwilling that our Heavenly Father should do as he thinks best with us; but my heart shrinks from the prospect of living in this dark, sinful, friendless world, without you....  But the most satisfactory view is to look away to that blissful world, where separations are unknown.  There, my beloved Judson, we shall surely meet each other; and we shall also meet many loved ones who have gone before us to that haven of rest.”

Her fears were not realized; in a few months Mr. Judson was restored to her and the suffering mission cause in greatly improved health.

CHAPTER XV.

ILLNESS OF HER CHILDREN.—­DEATH OF ONE OF THEM.—­HER MISSIONARY LABORS, AND FAMILY CARES.—­HER DECLINING HEALTH.—­POEM.—­HER LAST ILLNESS AND DEATH.