she found nothing satisfactory.  For ten years she prosecuted her inquiries, when God in his providence brought to her notice a tract written by Mr. Judson in the Burmese language, which so far solved her difficulties, that she was led to seek out its author.  From him she learned the truths of the gospel, and by the Holy Spirit those truths were made the means of her conversion.  “She became an ornament to her profession, and her daily walk and conversation would shame many professors in Christian countries.”

Christians in America, was Mrs. Judson’s time thrown away, when she was leading Burmese females to the knowledge of the truth as it is in Jesus?

One of the most splendid buildings in the empire is a pagoda at Rangoon, in which is enshrined a relic of Gaudama.  At this pagoda, a yearly feast is celebrated which lasts three days, and draws people together from all parts of the country.

Mrs. Judson says—­“If Dr. Young could have seen the devotion of this people to their idolatry, he might well have exclaimed, ’O for a heathen zeal in Christian hearts!’ Even while I am writing my ears are stunned with the noise and confusion of preparation for an approaching festival.  Could you, my dear sir, but once witness this annual feast, could you behold the enthusiasm of their devotions, you would readily admit that nothing short of an Almighty arm could break down these strong barriers, and cause the introduction of the gospel.”

The pagoda itself is thus described by Dr. Malcom.

“Two miles from Rangoon stands the celebrated pagoda called Shooda-gon.  It stands upon a small hill surmounted by many smaller pagodas, and many noble trees.  The hill has been graduated into successive terraces, sustained by brick walls; and the summit, which is completely leveled, contains about two acres.

“The two principal approaches from the city are lined on each side, for a mile, with fine pagodas, some almost vieing for size with Shoodagon itself.  Passing these, on your way from the city, you come to a flight of time-worn steps, covered by a curious arcade of little houses of various forms and sizes, some in partial decay, others truly beautiful.  After crossing some terraces, covered in the same manner, you reach the top and passing a great gate, enter at once this sad but imposing theatre of Gaudama’s glory.  One’s first impressions are, what terrible grandeur; what sickening magnificence; what absurd imagery; what extravagant expenditure; what long successions of devotees to procure this throng of buildings of such various dates; what a poor religion which makes such labors its chief meritoriousness!  Before you, stands the huge Shoodagon, its top among the clouds, and its golden sides blazing in the glories of an eastern sun.  Around are pompous zayats, noble pavements, Gothic mausoleums, uncouth colossal lions, curious stone umbrellas, graceful cylindrical banners of gold-embroidered muslin hanging from lofty pillars, enormous stone jars in rows to receive offerings, tapers burning before the images, exquisite flowers displayed on every side filling the air with fragrance, and a multitude of carved figures of idols, griffins, guardians, &c.