We may imagine the intolerable agony of Mrs. Judson when the faithful disciple returned with the sad news of his master’s fate.  Retiring to her room, she tried to find consolation in casting her dreadful burden of fear and suspense on her covenant God.  But soon her retirement was invaded by the magistrate of the place, who ordered her to come out and submit to an examination.  Of course she was obliged to obey, but before doing so she destroyed every writing she possessed, letters, journals, everything, lest her correspondence with her British friends should confirm the suspicions of their persecutors.  When the magistrate had satisfied himself with the examination, he placed a guard of ten ruffians about the house, with orders that no one should enter or leave it on pain of death.

Taking her four little Burman girls into an inner room she barred the door, and obstinately refused to come out, although the guard, bent on tormenting her, threatened to break the door down if she did not.  She prevented this outrage by a threat to complain of their conduct in the morning to higher authorities, but in revenge they bound her two Bengalee servants fast in the stocks in a most painful posture.  By bribes and promises she at length induced them to release the servants; but their dreadful carousings, and horrid language, combined with her suspense in regard to her husband’s fate, rendered that long night one of unmitigated wretchedness.

In the morning, Moung Ing, whom she had sent to the prison, returned with the intelligence that all the white foreigners were in the death-prison chained with three pairs of fetters each to a pole, to prevent their moving!  “The point of anguish now was,” she says, “that I was a prisoner myself, and could make no efforts for their relief.”  She earnestly but vainly begged the magistrate to allow her to go and state the case to some government officer; she even wrote a letter to the queen’s sister, who was civil, but afraid to interfere in their behalf.  “The day,” she says, “wore heavily away, and another dreadful night was before me.  I endeavored to soften the feelings of the guard, by giving them tea and segars for the night; so that they allowed me to remain inside my room, without threatening as they did the night before.”  But, haunted by the idea of her dear husband’s tortures, which she was neither permitted to share nor alleviate, she of course passed another night of anguish.

The next day she sent a message to the governor of the city, to allow her to visit him with a present.  This was successful, and the guards had orders to permit her to go into town.  She was pleasantly received, stated the situation of the teachers, and assured the governor that being not Englishmen but Americans, they had nothing to do with the war.  She was referred to a head officer with whom she might consult as to the means of making the prisoners more comfortable; but their release was out of the question.