Ann Hasseltitie Judson
 
 ANN OF AVA 
 
 BY 
 
 ETHEL DANIELS HUBBARD 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY 
 
 JESSIE GILLESPIE 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 Missionary Education Movement of the 
 United States and Canada
 
 COPTIIOBT, 191 S, BT 
 
 MIS810XABY EDUCATION MOVEMENT or TH1 
 
 ONITID STATES AND CANADA 
 
 NEW TOBK
 
 STACK 
 ANNEX 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Ann Hasseltine Judson . . . Frontispiece 
 The Hasseltine Home .... Page 9 
 
 Harriet Newell " 25 
 
 Adoniram Judson ..... 33 
 
 The Caravan 39 
 
 Rangoon River Front ..... 77 
 
 The Golden Pagoda " 81 
 
 A Burmese House ..... 85 
 
 The Queen's Monastery . . . . 117 
 
 A Burmese Christian Home .... 135 
 
 A Burmese Cart 199 
 
 The Hopia Tree "241 
 
 2135393
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I NANCY HASSELTINE .... 1 
 
 II THE SHADOW OF COMING EVENTS . 13 
 
 III GIRL PIONEERS 21 
 
 IV A LONG GOOD-BY 35 
 
 V PERPLEXITIES ON EVERY SIDE . . 44 
 
 VI THE ISLE OF FRANCE .... 61 
 
 VII A HOME AT LAST 70 
 
 VIII " BY THE OLD RANGOON PAGODA " . 80 
 
 IX CHILDREN'S VOICES .... 94 
 
 X ANN'S DILEMMA 110 
 
 XI " THE EAST A-CALLIN' "... 129 
 
 XII THE GOLDEN CITY OF AVA . . .148 
 
 XIII THE HEROINE OF AVA .... 165 
 
 XIV PRISONERS IN A HEATHEN VILLAGE . 195 
 
 XV THE BRITISH CAMP . . . .217 
 
 XVI THE HOPIA TREE . 230
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 NANCY HASSELTINE 
 
 NANCY HASSELTINE came in 
 from her favorite walk by the river 
 and threw herself down in the big 
 chair by the front window. It was April, 
 and the air was intoxicatingly sweet with 
 sunlight and the fragrance of the damp 
 earth. Moreover, the river was riotously 
 blue and turbulent, true to its Indian 
 name, Merrimac, " the place of strong cur- 
 rents." 
 
 Nancy's cheeks flamed with color, her 
 brown eyes shone with the fire of spring, and 
 her curly hair was blown bewitchingly about 
 her face. There was not a prettier girl in 
 Bradford nor in all the valley of the Mer- 
 rimac than Ann, generally known as Nancy 
 Hasseltine, and none more popular. 
 
 There seemed to be no limit to her love 
 of good times and to her merry, laughing 
 
 [1]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 mood. She could bribe the bell-ringer at the 
 academy with a smile. At home she was the 
 life of the household. This last' winter had 
 been the gayest of all her sixteen years, 
 thanks to that same little unpainted academy 
 down the road, where more than eighty boys 
 and girls were gathered in school. 
 
 There were no high schools in Nancy's 
 day and no regular sessions of grammar or 
 primary school. A small, red schoolhouse 
 stood across the way from the meeting-house, 
 down near the frog pond and the alder 
 swamp. Sometimes the men of the town 
 would meet and vote to supply wood for the 
 school fire during one or two months. Then 
 school would keep, and the boys and girls 
 would have a brief chance at book-learning. 
 
 By and by, in the springtime of 1803, some 
 wise parents decided that something must 
 be done for the further education of their 
 children. Whereupon about thirty of the 
 " Inhabitants of the First Parish in Brad- 
 ford," so the records read, met together 
 and agreed to erect a building for an acad~ 
 emy! They subscribed for shares in the 
 building fund until fifteen hundred dollars 
 
 w
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 was pledged. John Hasseltine, Nancy's 
 father, gave a hundred dollars. 
 
 Then these enterprising New England set- 
 tlers went to work and built the academy, 
 completing it in just three months from the 
 time of the meeting in March. Early in 
 June the first term opened, at the time of 
 year when schools nowadays are getting ready 
 to close. 
 
 More than fifty pupils hastened to the 
 new academy from Bradford and other 
 Massachusetts towns, from Vermont, New 
 Hampshire, and even from South Carolina, 
 many of them traveling the long distance by 
 stage-coach. Nancy Hasseltine and her three 
 sisters were among the first pupils. 
 
 On the outside the building looked like a 
 small district schoolhouse, such as we see to- 
 day in the heart of the country. Inside were 
 two classrooms, one on the right for the 
 boys, another on the left for the girls. A 
 narrow corridor separated them and pro-* 
 jected somewhat in front. Above this pro^ 
 jection a square tower rose to the height of 
 a second story, culminating in an arched 
 belfry in which hung the bell. Of course
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 there was no dormitory, large or small, to 
 house the pupils from far away, so they 
 boarded around at the various farms. 
 
 The Hasseltine house, a few rods west of 
 the academy on the " Boston Road," was the 
 favorite resort of the boys and girls. Mr. 
 Hasseltine was so heartily in sympathy with 
 the young people that when he built his house 
 he finished a hall at the rear of the second 
 story to be used for their parties and enter- 
 tainments. 
 
 After the new academy was opened, 
 Nancy's hours outside school were packed 
 full of merrymaking. This last winter there 
 had been parties galore. The little village of 
 Bradford, deviating from the prim traditions 
 of New England, was a center of social gaiety. 
 
 Think not that studies were seriously 
 neglected, because, from the beginning, Brad- 
 ford Academy stood for high standards, al- 
 though in those early days the course of 
 study was not so complex and difficult as 
 it is thought to be in most schools to-day. 
 The pupils acquired their knowledge of Eng- 
 lish grammar by reading and parsing the 
 standard literature of the day, such as Pope's 
 
 w
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 Essay on Man and Paradise Lost. They 
 made a fine art of penmanship, map draw- 
 ing, and elaborate embroidery. Then, too, 
 they studied English history, geography, 
 arithmetic, and other branches; and grad- 
 ually the range of studies enlarged. 
 
 Fortunately for Nancy, she was as clever 
 as she was beautiful, and lessons came as 
 easily as fun-making. Moreover, with all 
 her love of activity, she was devoted to read- 
 ing. Any time a good book could beguile 
 her into the cozy corner by the fireplace. 
 Many lively discussions over their favorite 
 authors were carried on among Nancy, her 
 three sisters, and their mother, who was the 
 greatest reader of them all. Yet in those 
 festively gay months after Nancy's sixteenth 
 birthday in December, studies and reading 
 were pushed to the wall by a consuming in- 
 terest in party dresses and party happenings. 
 During that winter she outdid all her friends 
 in frivolity, and none among them suspected 
 the growing unrest in her soul. 
 
 With the coming of spring, however, the 
 inner restlessness would no longer be hushed 
 by gaiety. As the girl came indoors on that 
 
 [5]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 April afternoon, the pensive mood drew her 
 irresistibly within its control. Her eyes grew 
 big and dreamy with thought as she stretched 
 her lithe figure comfortably in the arm-chair 
 by the window, whence she looked out across 
 the green fields to the river with its dark blue 
 onrush of current. 
 
 Her three sisters, Abby and Mary and 
 Rebecca, had not yet come in from the 
 academy; and her father and mother were 
 busy out doors and in. Nancy ^was left 
 alone with her thoughts there in the west 
 room, which was deluged with the golden 
 sunshine of late afternoon in springtime. 
 In the evening there was to be a meet- 
 ing in the upper parish, and she fought 
 against her desire to go. Not for worlds 
 would she have her schoolmates know that 
 she had crept into a back seat at the meet- 
 ing the other night and had suddenly found 
 her face wet with tears. They should never 
 suspect that something was tugging at her 
 life deep down and making her most uncom- 
 fortable. She had been recklessly gay of 
 late just on purpose to cover up her real 
 feelings. More than once her friends at 
 [6]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 school had predicted that something dreadful 
 would happen to her unless she sobered down. 
 In the " very heart of her soul " she was 
 sobering down at a tremendous rate, though 
 they surmised it not. 
 
 As the girl gazed dreamy-eyed and wistful 
 out toward the river, her mother lifted the 
 latch of the door. Quickly Nancy sprang to 
 her feet that her mother might not notice her 
 unusual thoughtfulness. The old restlessness 
 flashed back into her eyes, and her easy 
 bravado into her spirit and bearing. Mrs. 
 Hasseltine looked searchingly at her young- 
 est daughter, as she stood before her with 
 flushed face and wind-tossed curls, her slight 
 figure quivering with life. Her beauty was 
 like that of the April day, all glow and color 
 and promise. Mrs. Hasseltine drew the 
 girl into the warm, quiet kitchen where the 
 sunlight and firelight mingled their gleam 
 upon the low rafters. Together, mother and 
 daughter prepared the evening meal. The 
 teakettle swung on the crane humming its 
 steamy song, the potatoes snapped in the 
 ashes, and the smell of baked things came 
 from the deep, brick oven. As they worked, 
 
 m
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 they talked and they thought, and sometimes 
 their thoughts strayed far from their speech. 
 Nancy was still struggling with those phan- 
 toms which haunted her mind and whose 
 presence must be concealed. Her mother's 
 heart was filled with hopes and fears for her 
 youngest girl, who was so gay and sweet and 
 impetuous, like the tumultuous river in 
 springtime. 
 
 For Nancy the April days sped rapidly, 
 and joy and song were in the air, even though 
 a minor tune rang insistently in her heart. 
 One Sunday evening, Mr. Burnham, the 
 principal of the academy, came to make a 
 friendly call upon the Hasseltine family, as 
 was his frequent habit. He was a young 
 man, a Dartmouth student, who had taken 
 charge of the school in Bradford the year 
 before. There was something manly and 
 earnest about him which ^on the respect and 
 liking of his pupils and of people in general. 
 This Sunday evening, with Mr. and Mrs. 
 Hasseltine and the four girls, he was talk- 
 ing in very straightforward fashion. Finally 
 he made a remark which expressed Nancy's 
 inner mood so exactly that she could hardly 
 [8]
 
 The Hasseltine Home
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 conceal her embarrassment. He said that 
 sometimes people deliberately covered up 
 their real feelings because they were afraid 
 of becoming too serious. Nancy slipped out 
 into the garden under the fruit trees to 
 wrestle again with those troublesome thoughts 
 which would not let her alone. 
 
 That night and for days after, she thought 
 and thought until it seemed as if her brain 
 would burst with thinking. She wondered 
 if the Bible would help, but she could not 
 understand the Bible very well. God seemed 
 very far off and unapproachable. What 
 should she do? She was too unhappy to 
 pretend gaiety any longer, though not " for 
 the whole world," as she wrote in her diary, 
 would she have her schoolmates know that 
 she was disturbed by thoughts about God. 
 
 Frequently she shut herself in her room 
 to read the books Mr. Burnham had given 
 her and to try to pray. God still seemed 
 remote and stern to the troubled mind of 
 the girl, but gradually she began to realize 
 that Jesus Christ was real and human and 
 lovable. He could understand her perfectly, 
 and there was no fear in trusting her life 
 
 [9]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 to One who really knew and loved without 
 limit. All the hero-worship of her soul went 
 out to him in a great wave of loyalty. His 
 perfect friendliness revealed God in a new 
 light of infinite love and gentleness. The 
 heavy weight of unhappiness that had dragged 
 upon her spirits for so many weeks was fully 
 and finally lifted. 
 
 Nancy was sixteen when she became a 
 Christian, and sixteen also when with others 
 of her school friends she joined the little 
 church at Bradford. About the same time 
 her father and mother became church-mem- 
 bers. It was through Nancy, his favorite 
 daughter, that John Hasseltine acknowledged 
 himself a Christian. One summer evening 
 the girl had knelt in her open window and 
 the tears came as they often did in those 
 days. Her father was crossing the field to- 
 ward the house when he looked up and saw 
 Nancy in all her loveliness kneeling and 
 weeping. She was his idol, and as he looked 
 at her he said to himself, " If my child, so 
 sweet and innocent, weeps when she comes 
 to God in prayer, what will become of me ? " 
 Whereupon he walked out on his farm, threw 
 [10]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 himself down under an oak tree and prayed. 
 From that night he was willing to be known 
 as a Christian man. 
 
 During the lovely summer days of the 
 year 1806, when school was still in session, 
 nearly all the boys and girls in Bradford 
 Academy thought hard about serious things. 
 As a result, many of them became Christians. 
 The young principal, Mr. Burnham, was an 
 inspiration to them all. For a time, classes 
 were actually suspended that teacher and 
 pupils might talk and pray together and 
 consider diligently what each might do to 
 help bring the world to Jesus Christ. 
 
 During those same midsummer days, an- 
 other group of students in another New 
 England town was facing the same tremen- 
 dous question and facing it with even greater 
 definiteness of purpose. Through the " di- 
 vinity that shapes our ends," those forces at 
 work simultaneously at Bradford Academy 
 and Williams College were to blend some day 
 into one great student movement to reach 
 around the world. 
 
 Among those whose lives were touched by 
 the wonderful influence of Bradford Acad-
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 emy in those early days was a slender, flower- 
 like girl named Harriet Atwood. She was 
 one of the younger girls who had come the 
 year before, when twelve years old, from 
 her home across the river in Haverhill. In 
 the sweet, sunshiny afternoons of July and 
 August, Harriet and Nancy joined their 
 schoolmates in lazy strolls down the grassy 
 path which led from the academy into the 
 depths of the wood. Red berries, trailing 
 vines, and deep-scented ferns grew in the 
 shade of the forest trees. Upon a mossy 
 bank the boys and girls sat and talked, with 
 all the golden enthusiasm of youth, of the 
 years to come, and of the exploits they would 
 do when they were men and women grown. 
 With her brown eyes sparkling and her voice 
 quivering with eagerness, Nancy spoke of 
 service and heroism. Little Harriet, large- 
 eyed and serious, was already dreaming of 
 sacrifice. But the long summer days and 
 the " heart of the ancient wood " brought no 
 revealing hint of those thrilling experiences 
 which were to come even a few years hence 
 into the lives of Harriet Atwood and Nancy 
 Hasseltine. 
 [12]
 
 II 
 
 FOUR years passed, and summer days 
 came again to the valley of the 
 Merrimac. During the last week of 
 June a strange excitement stirred the little 
 village of Bradford, from the covered bridge 
 over the river unto the farthest farm on the 
 " Boston Road." In many a house busy 
 preparations were being made for dinner and 
 supper parties of varying size. At noon and 
 sunset time guests from near and far would 
 gather in the hospitable homes of Bradford 
 for the ample repasts for which New Eng- 
 land has always been famous. 
 
 With all the bustle and activity, a new 
 and thrilling interest occupied the minds of 
 the people. In the low-raftered kitchens and 
 out upon the green roadsides lively discussion 
 was carried on among young and old alike. 
 The cause of this unwonted excitement could 
 have been traced to the little parish meeting- 
 house which stood at the junction of the two 
 
 [13]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 roads, across the way from the Kimball 
 Tavern. So simple was it that no chimney 
 or steeple dignified its exterior, yet beneath 
 its humble gable roof a great, historic event 
 was even now being enacted. In the boxed 
 pews sat the black-robed ministers from the 
 churches of Massachusetts who had come to 
 Bradford for three long June days of de- 
 liberation concerning the problems of the 
 New England parish. On horseback, by 
 chaise and by stage-coach they had jour- 
 neyed, these " Church fathers," as they were 
 respectfully called. 
 
 On the second day profound astonishment 
 seemed to take possession of the twenty- 
 eight clergymen in the pews and to lay hold 
 also upon the townspeople who had gathered 
 in the galleries around the three sides. The 
 air was electric with interest. Down near the 
 front sat four young men upon whom all 
 eyes were fastened. They were young col- 
 lege men now in Andover Theological Semi- 
 nary. Early that morning they had walked 
 the ten miles to Bradford in order to present 
 to the Massachusetts ministers a momentous 
 proposition. Their written petition had just 
 [Ul
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 been laid upon the communion table, after 
 having been read in the clear, deep voice of 
 Adoniram Judson, the spokesman of the 
 group. A responsive thrill stirred the people 
 as the young man took his seat. It was a 
 bold project he had advocated, seeming 
 scarcely reasonable, yet the conviction of the 
 four students was contagious. 
 
 In the summer of 1806 this " bold project " 
 had first crystallized into a serious purpose. 
 Almost simultaneously with the religious 
 awakening at Bradford Academy, five Chris- 
 tian students in Williams College had framed 
 a far-reaching resolution. One hot day in 
 August they went, according to habit, into 
 a maple grove to pray together. The sky 
 blackened with the approach of a thunder- 
 shower, and they hastened to a near-by hay- 
 stack for protection. There in the storm 
 they talked about the vast old continent of 
 Asia, concerning which they had read and 
 studied. They told tales of the ignorance 
 and wretchedness of its people, whereupon 
 Samuel Mills for the first time unfolded his 
 darling scheme of sending missionaries to 
 those heathen lands, perhaps even offering 
 
 [15]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 their own lives for the great service. He 
 grew more and more enthusiastic as he talked, 
 until finally he exclaimed with a vehemence 
 none of them ever forgot, " We can do it if 
 we will!" Under his leadership a secret so- 
 ciety called the " Brethren " was organized 
 in Williams College, and those initiated 
 united in the purpose to go themselves as 
 missionaries to the non- Christian world. Af- 
 ter graduation, some of the " Brethren," in- 
 cluding Samuel Mills, went to Andover 
 Seminary to study for the ministry. There 
 they found kindred spirits in Samuel Xewell 
 from Union College, Samuel Nott from Har- 
 vard, and Adoniram Judson from Brown 
 University, all of whom joined the order of 
 the " Brethren." 
 
 Everywhere he went Adoniram Judson 
 became a recognized leader. He was bril- 
 liant, forceful, imaginative, and an indomi- 
 table worker. At Brown he had led his 
 class, and at Andover he had received an 
 offer dazzling to the ambition of a young 
 theologue. He had been invited to become 
 associate pastor of the largest church in 
 Boston and in all New England as well. But 
 [16]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 no, his aspiration reached far beyond Boston 
 and the bounds of his country, even to the 
 ancient East, whither no missionary from 
 America had yet been sent. Thither he would 
 go, and to a people who had never heard the 
 name of Christ he would proclaim the Mas- 
 ter whom he was learning to serve with 
 passionate loyalty. 
 
 In the Bradford meeting-house this June 
 day in 1810, Adoniram Judson with the 
 three " Samuels," his companions, boldly 
 asked to be sent by the churches of Massa- 
 chusetts on a mission to the heathen world! 
 Never yet had a missionary gone from 
 America to those countries beyond the seas, 
 months and months away. American sailors 
 who had touched the coasts of India, Burma, 
 and Africa brought home tales of the awful 
 degradation and savagery of the inhabitants. 
 Most people thought it was an insane notion 
 to dream of converting them to the Christian 
 religion. 
 
 Conflicting ideas battled in the minds of 
 the ministers. Upon first, and even second, 
 thought the undertaking sounded " wild and 
 romantic " ; yet upon the faces of the young 
 
 [17]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 men they read clear-eyed conviction. They 
 were confident that the voice of God had 
 spoken. * We would better not try to stop 
 God," said one of the ministers. The as- 
 sembly waited, hushed and uncertain, listen- 
 ing intently, as each of the young men told 
 why he believed it his duty to give up home 
 and friends and go on the long, perilous jour- 
 ney to the heathen world. As in modern 
 business meetings, decision was referred to 
 a committee of three who were to report on 
 the morrow. 
 
 On Friday, the 29th of June, the commit- 
 tee appeared before the council and an- 
 nounced its verdict. They recommended that 
 the purpose of the young men be approved, 
 and, furthermore, that a foreign missionary 
 board be organized in America to insure the 
 support of the young volunteers and those 
 who should follow their example. They even 
 suggested its name, a long unwieldy one, 
 the " American Board of Commissioners for 
 Foreign Missions." Without a protest the 
 report was adopted. It was a breathless mo- 
 ment for the four young men, who had hardly 
 dared to dream such a victory possible. 
 [18]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 Every one present recognized that it was 
 their tremendous earnestness which had won 
 the day. 
 
 The session was dismissed for noon inter- 
 mission. A group of ministers, Adoniram 
 Judson in their midst, strolled up the road 
 past the academy to Deacon Hasseltine's 
 house, where they were invited to dine. In 
 the west room the table had been laid for 
 the noon dinner-party. The Hasseltines had 
 a widespread reputation for hospitality which 
 the tempting array of pies and cakes and 
 other eatables amply justified. 
 
 To Nancy, the youngest daughter of the 
 household, fell the task of serving her father's 
 guests. As she watched them coming up the 
 path from the gate, her flashing eyes revealed 
 her interest in the day's unusual event. At 
 twenty she was even more beautiful than the 
 girl of sixteen, for a sweet thoughtfulness 
 tempered the old laughing gaiety of eyes and 
 mouth. Her cheeks were flushed with the 
 heat and excitement of the day, her soft curls 
 clustered about her fair neck. Of all the 
 varied beauty of the day in June nothing 
 was so wondrous fair as the girl Nancy.
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 As the guests entered the room a pair of 
 keen, fearless brown eyes met hers, and their 
 gaze lingered as if spellbound. From the 
 moment Adoniram Judson and Nancy Has- 
 seltine looked into each other's eyes a great 
 and wonderful experience was born in the 
 lives of both. 
 
 During the meal, Adoniram Judson, noted 
 for his ready wit and social grace, was un- 
 accountably silent. For some reason he 
 seemed strangely preoccupied with his plate. 
 Nancy, who had heard of his eloquent speech, 
 his daring proclamation of his beliefs, mar- 
 veled at his stubborn silence. As she cut the 
 pies on the broad window-sill she cast a 
 furtive glance at the young man who was 
 the hero of the hour, but who could not be 
 persuaded to talk. Little did she dream 
 that his thoughts were forcibly diverted from 
 the absorbing theme which his companions 
 still discussed, and that deep down in his 
 mind he was composing a sonnet in honor of 
 the loveliest girl he had ever seen. 
 
 [20]
 
 Ill 
 
 GIRL PIONEERS 
 
 ONE day, about a month after the 
 eventful gathering in the meeting- 
 house, the Boston stage-coach 
 brought to Bradford a certain small piece of 
 mail destined to become of large importance 
 in the lives of two people. It was a letter 
 carefully sealed with wax and in fine, firm 
 handwriting, addressed to Miss Nancy Has- 
 seltine. As the girl broke the seal joy and 
 fear mingled for one fleeting instant upon her 
 face. 
 
 For many days the letter lay unanswered, 
 but Nancy went about the house and along 
 the grassy highways of Bradford with the 
 light of a great wonder shining in her eyes. 
 Persistently, however, she feigned indiffer- 
 ence and deliberately postponed reply to the 
 letter. Finally, her sister, exasperated by her 
 procrastination, said to her, " Have you an- 
 swered that letter of Mr. Judson's? " " No," 
 retorted Nancy with a toss of her brown 
 curls. "Then if you don't, I shall," re- 
 sponded the older sister. 
 
 [21]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 The threat had the desired effect, and in 
 course of time a letter written and sealed by 
 Nancy Hasseltine reached Adoniram Judson 
 at Phillips Hall, Andover. That letter 
 brought an interesting challenge to the young 
 man who all his life had pushed his way 
 through every obstacle to the goal of his 
 ambition. In her girlish perversity and in 
 her real perplexity, Nancy had written a 
 cool, discouraging reply to his eager letter. 
 Adoniram Judson perceived her dilemma, for 
 with his fine sense of honor he realized keenly 
 the tremendous sacrifice he was demanding of 
 the girl he loved in asking her to become his 
 wife. 
 
 He might have offered her a comfortable 
 home in the city of Boston as the wife of one 
 of its leading clergymen. There her beauty 
 and intelligence would have shone in con- 
 spicuous brightness. Instead, he was invit- 
 ing her to share the uncertain lot of the first 
 missionary from America to the mysterious 
 regions of southern Asia. It was perfectly 
 reasonable to expect suffering and privation, 
 even persecution and death. Yet he believed 
 Ann Hasseltine was capable of just that high 
 
 WJ
 
 Ann of A 
 
 heroism which such a life demanded. That 
 glad belief drew his steps confidently to- 
 ward Bradford during those wonderful sum- 
 mer days which were bringing deep heart- 
 searchings to the young man and woman. 
 
 On her part, Nancy was struggling with a 
 question which no woman in America had 
 yet been called upon to face. Should she 
 marry the man who was consuming her 
 thoughts and go away from her father's 
 house to a distant land probably never to 
 return? " Xo," said nearly every one whose 
 advice was sought, or who proffered an opin- 
 ion unasked. " It is altogether preposterous 
 for a woman to consider such a rash under- 
 taking." " It is utterly improper," said one ; 
 " It is wild and romantic," said another. Mr. 
 Kimball, the father of one of Nancy's school 
 friends, declared that he would tie his daugh- 
 ter to the bedpost before he would let her go. 
 But the girl Nancy, with her old independ- 
 ent spirit deepened by a new sense of duty, 
 followed the call of God, regardless of un- 
 sympathetic comments. 
 
 There were a few people who stood by her 
 and encouraged her to dare all and go. 
 
 [it]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 Among them was her sister Abigail, that 
 tall, self-possessed girl who afterwards be- 
 came principal of Bradford Academy and 
 retained that position for forty years. Abby 
 and Nancy were great chums, understanding 
 each other easily, even though they were quite 
 unlike in temperament, perhaps because of 
 that very fact. Abigail was teaching school 
 in Beverly and late in the summer her young 
 sister went to visit her. While there Nancy 
 wrote the following letter, in the rather pon- 
 derous English used in her time, to her old 
 school friend, Lydia, who lived near her in 
 Bradford : 
 
 Beverly, September 8, 1810. 
 " I have ever made you a confidant. I 
 will still confide in you and beg for your 
 prayers that I may be directed in regard to 
 the subject which I shall communicate. I 
 feel willing, and expect, if nothing in provi- 
 dence prevents, to spend my days in this 
 world in heathen lands. Yes, Lydia, I have 
 about come to the determination to give up 
 all my comforts and enjoyments here, sacri- 
 fice my affection to relatives and friends, and 
 [24]
 
 Harriet Newell
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 go where God, in his providence, shall see 
 fit to place me. My determinations are not 
 hasty or formed without viewing the dangers, 
 trials, and hardships attendant on a mission- 
 ary life. Nor were my determinations formed 
 in consequence of an attachment to an earthly 
 object; but with a sense of my obligation to 
 God, and with a full conviction of its being 
 a call of providence, and consequently my 
 duty. My feelings have been exquisite in 
 regard to the subject. Now my mind is 
 settled and composed, and is willing to leave 
 the event with God none can support one 
 under trials and afflictions but he. In him 
 alone I feel a disposition to confide." 
 
 There was another girl friend of the old 
 academy days who must be told the great 
 news of her engagement and missionary pur- 
 pose. So, one October morning after her 
 return to Bradford, Nancy went through 
 the covered bridge which led across the Mer- 
 rimac into Haverhill, up the hill to the town 
 square and on to the house of Harriet At- 
 wood. Harriet had just passed her seven- 
 teenth birthday, and Nancy would be twenty- 
 
 [25]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 one in December. To her little friend Nancy 
 confided her expectation of becoming the 
 wife of a missionary to India. Harriet's big, 
 brown eyes grew misty with wonder and sym- 
 pathy. In her diary that night she wrote 
 these words in a style which resembled 
 Nancy's : 
 
 " How did this news affect my heart ! Is 
 she willing to do all this for God; and shall 
 I refuse to lend my little aid in a land where 
 divine revelation has shed its clearest rays? 
 I have felt more for the salvation of the 
 heathen this day than I recollect to have felt 
 through my whole past life. . . . What can 
 I do, that the light of the gospel may shine 
 upon them? They are perishing for lack of 
 knowledge, while I enjoy the glorious privi- 
 leges of a Christian land. Great God direct 
 me! Oh, make me in some way beneficial to 
 their immortal souls ! " 
 
 In less than a month that same little diary 
 of Harriet's bore this entry: 
 
 " Sleep has fled from me and my soul is 
 enveloped in a dark cloud of troubles! Oh
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 that God would direct me; that he would 
 plainly mark out the path of duty and let 
 me not depart from it." 
 
 In that short interim, Samuel Newell, one 
 of the missionary volunteers, had come into 
 Harriet's life; and by night and by day the 
 thoughts of the girl were dream-haunted. 
 
 The winter passed and the spring days 
 came again. One April evening while Har- 
 riet was visiting her sister in Charlestown, 
 she came back from Boston to find a letter! 
 Just a slip of paper with a few strokes of the 
 pen upon it, but what agitation that can pro- 
 duce in a girl's inner being! She broke the 
 seal and read the words and the name she 
 had expected, yes, dreaded to see. To Har- 
 riet, as to Nancy, had come the great testing 
 of love and loyalty. 
 
 Through the tears which dimmed her eyes 
 Harriet wrote a few days later in her diary: 
 
 ' The important decision is not yet made. 
 I am still wavering. I long to see and con- 
 verse with my dear mother! So delicate is 
 my situation that I dare not unbosom my 
 heart to a single person. What shall I do? 
 
 [27]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 Could tears direct me in the path of duty, 
 surely I should be directed My heart 
 aches: I know not what to do! "Guide 
 me, O Thou great Jehovah." I shall go 
 home on Tuesday. Perhaps my dear mother 
 will immediately say: Harriet shall never go. 
 Well, if this should be the case my duty 
 would be plain. I cannot act contrary to 
 the advice and express commands of a pious 
 mother." 
 
 When Tuesday came, Harriet mounted 
 the stage-coach which traveled between Bos- 
 ton and Haverhill and came again to her 
 mother's house in the town square. Before 
 crossing the Merrimac the stage lumbered 
 through Bradford along the " Boston Road," 
 past the academy and the Hasseltine house. 
 The youngest and fairest daughter of that 
 Bradford household and the slender, brown- 
 eyed girl of Haverhill were destined not 
 many months hence to leave the sunny farms 
 of New England, even the dear home people 
 around the family hearth and go out across 
 two oceans to the mysterious land of southern 
 Asia and spend their lives among its pagan 
 people. 
 [28]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 Harriet found her mother already pre- 
 pared for the solemn question which was in- 
 vading their home. In his stress of mind, 
 Samuel Newell had made a confidant of 
 Nancy Hasseltine, and she had been the 
 bearer of his troubled request to Harriet's 
 mother. With tears in her eyes that loyal 
 Christian woman replied, ' I dare not, I 
 cannot speak against it." Thus, when Har- 
 riet came home that April day, Mrs. Atwood 
 was ready to trust the great decision to her 
 daughter's conscience. Since her father's 
 death, three years before, Harriet had clung 
 with increasing affection to her mother. Now, 
 a wonderful, new love was surging up in her 
 life, transforming her from a girl into a 
 woman and supplying her with purpose ir- 
 resistible. Samuel Newell had drawn out the 
 deepest love of her maiden heart. Yet not 
 alone for the sake of her lover did she decide 
 upon the difficult life of a missionary, but 
 because she was determined down to the 
 depths of her pure soul to go wherever God 
 should lead her. 
 
 In June, Harriet and Samuel were com- 
 pelled to part for nine long months as the 
 
 [29]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 young man was going to Philadelphia to join 
 his friend Gordon Hall in the study of 
 physics and medicine by way of further 
 preparation for their missionary work. It 
 was a lonely heart that was left behind in the 
 house in Haverhill. Nancy Hasseltine would 
 have been a great comfort, but Nancy was 
 away on a long visit in Salem. 
 
 Early in the winter Nancy had said good- 
 by to Adoniram Judson as he had set forth 
 on a far longer journey than the stage route 
 to Philadelphia. He had sailed on the ship 
 Packet for England, having been sent to 
 London by the directors of the new American 
 missionary society to confer with the older 
 English society as to some possible combina- 
 tion between the two organizations. 
 
 In those days a voyage to Europe was a 
 snail-like process consuming two months of 
 time. Letters traveled even more slowly, so 
 that Adoniram Judson could well-nigh come 
 again to the valley of the Merrimac before 
 Nancy would hear of his arrival on the 
 English shore. Hence it was many weeks 
 before the news reached Bradford of the 
 exciting adventures which befell the young 
 [30]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 man on his trip across the Atlantic. His 
 ship was captured by a French privateer and 
 he was taken prisoner to Bayonne, France. 
 For six weeks he was detained there, although 
 early in his captivity he had been released 
 from prison on parole and allowed to board 
 in an American family in the city. It was 
 the 6th of May before he reached London, 
 and in June, his business completed, he sailed 
 on the ship Augustus for New York. The 
 last of August brought him to his father's 
 home in Plymouth and to that other home 
 on the banks of the river in Bradford. 
 
 The return of Adoniram Judson with his 
 message from England was the signal for 
 another meeting of the men who had gathered 
 in the Bradford church a year and more ago. 
 On the 18th of September, the "Church 
 fathers," now the officers and members of 
 the new missionary society, assembled in the 
 town of Worcester, Massachusetts. Ado- 
 niram Judson, slight of build, even boyish 
 in appearance, but with piercingly bright 
 eyes and resonant voice, stood forth and 
 announced his decision. A joint missionary 
 enterprise between England and America 
 
 [31]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 had been disapproved by the leaders in Lon- 
 don, but the London Missionary Society was 
 willing to adopt the American volunteers as 
 its missionaries and promptly send them 
 forth to their distant posts of service. Con- 
 sequently, and here Adoniram Judson ex- 
 hibited his tremendous power of determina- 
 tion, if the American society refused his 
 appointment, he would become a missionary 
 of the English organisation. Samuel Nott 
 announced a similar resolve. 
 
 The unyielding purpose of the young men 
 proved the needed spur to action and the 
 American Board of Commissioners for For- 
 eign Missions then and there appointed its 
 first missionaries, Adoniram Judson, Samuel 
 Newell, Samuel Nott, and Gordon Hall. 
 For a second time victory was scored by 
 means of the bold consecration of the mis- 
 sionary volunteers. 
 
 The autumn days deepened into winter; 
 and hope and dread stirred the lives of Nancy 
 and Harriet, Adoniram and Samuel. The 
 time of their departure was drawing nigh. 
 In January an exciting message came from 
 Samuel Newell and Gordon Hall in Phila- 
 [32]
 
 Adoniram Judson
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 delphia. In two weeks the ship Harmony 
 was to sail from that city to Calcutta and the 
 government would permit missionaries to take 
 passage. A second war with England was 
 threatening, and if they did not sail at once 
 ports might be blockaded and departure long 
 deferred. 
 
 Should they go? It was a terrific question 
 which pressed for immediate answer upon 
 the officers of the young mission board. Only 
 a small sum of money was in the treasury, 
 not enough to pay the passage fees. Was 
 it reasonable to expect that the actual de- 
 parture of missionaries for a heathen country 
 would attract attention and awaken sym- 
 pathy to such an extent that gifts of money 
 would be forthcoming? Should they boldly 
 venture and bravely trust? Long and anx- 
 iously they prayed and deliberated, seeking 
 to discern the right. At last the vote was 
 cast, and the verdict was the missionaries 
 shall go! 
 
 To the Hasseltine and Atwood homes came 
 the word that Nancy and Harriet must soon 
 take their marriage vows and say farewell, 
 perhaps forever, to their childhood homes. 
 
 [33]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 The piercing winds of a New England 
 winter swept through the valley of the Mer- 
 rimac and along the snowy highways of 
 Bradford, when, on the 5th of February, a 
 group of people gathered in the west room 
 of the Hasseltine house. A strange hush 
 fell upon the little company, and tears were 
 close to the eyes of every guest. Harriet 
 Atwood sat by the side of Samuel Newell, 
 her betrothed, a sad seriousness resting 
 upon her. But the center of interest 
 was the radiant, beautiful face of Nancy 
 Hasseltine as she gave her hand and heart 
 in marriage to the missionary, Adoniram Jud- 
 son, whom, less than two years before, she 
 had first met in this very room. Her brave, 
 unfaltering eyes shone with a wonderful light 
 as Pastor Allen gave the two young people 
 his blessing, called them " his dear children," 
 and spoke lovingly of the labors they were to 
 perform. 
 
 From that night the girl Nancy, popular, 
 clever, beautiful, became the woman resource- 
 ful and heroic, who was destined to be known 
 in three continents as Ann Hasseltine Jud- 
 son, the heroine of Av&, 
 [34]
 
 IV 
 A LONG GOOD-BY 
 
 A r THOUGH it was a bitterly cold 
 day in February the streets of Salem 
 were well filled with people. In- 
 voluntarily on such a day one would hover 
 near the cheery kitchen fireplace with its 
 savory warmth. Instead, the people of this 
 seacoast town seemed to be drawn forth, as 
 by the spell of a Hamelin piper, toward one 
 enchanted spot, the white meeting-house 
 known as Tabernacle Church. From neigh- 
 boring towns sleighs brought bundled, shiver- 
 ing folk along the snowy roads to Salem. 
 From Andover, a delegation of students, 
 boys and young men, walked the entire six- 
 teen miles in the freezing cold of early morn- 
 ing, returning on foot late in the afternoon. 
 But cold and weariness were speedily for- 
 gotten in the great and absorbing interest 
 which centered in the day's events in Taber- 
 nacle Church. 
 
 On this sixth day of February, 1812, five 
 young men were to be ordained as Christian 
 
 [35]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 ministers and commissioned by the Church 
 of America as its first missionaries to a 
 heathen country. In imagination people pic- 
 tured the separation from home, the long 
 voyage across the gray, wintry ocean, and 
 the possible hostility and persecution of the 
 savage inhabitants of those distant regions. 
 Every heart felt a throb of sympathy with 
 those dauntless young people who had al- 
 ready left their homes and were soon to de- 
 part from their native land perhaps forever. 
 Near the front of the church, before the 
 distinguished clergymen from Boston, Salem, 
 and other towns, knelt five volunteers for 
 missionary service, Adoniram Judson, Samuel 
 Newell, Samuel Nott, Gordon Hall, and a 
 new recruit, Luther Rice. A hand of fatherly 
 blessing was laid upon each youthful head 
 bowed in willing consecration to God and 
 obedience to his call. Kneeling there before 
 the elder ministers, these young men in their 
 purity and earnestness resembled Sir Gala- 
 had as he knelt before his superior knight, 
 Sir Launcelot, to receive the " high order 
 of knighthood." For a more perilous quest 
 than that of Sir Galahad for the Holy Grail, 
 [36]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 they vowed their allegiance as knights of the 
 great King whose Round Table is in very 
 truth the whole, round world. 
 
 During the dedication service many eyes 
 turned from the young missionaries to linger 
 lovingly upon a girlish figure kneeling rever- 
 ently by the side of a boxed pew near the 
 front. A scoop bonnet, the fashion of the 
 day, covered her brown curls and partly 
 shielded the brave, beautiful face of Mrs. 
 Adoniram Judson, the bride of a single day. 
 On her long visit in Salem, Nancy Hassel- 
 tine had become well known in town. More- 
 over, in her school-days, stories of her gaiety 
 and beauty had drifted through the country- 
 side, stories which reached a high climax 
 in the announcement of her decision to go as 
 a foreign missionary, an unprecedented ca- 
 reer for an American woman. A solemn joy 
 seemed to radiate through her kneeling figure 
 during the service which sacredly sealed her 
 marriage vows. 
 
 Another girlish face tugged hard* at the 
 heartstrings of the people. It was that of 
 Harriet Atwood, the young woman who 
 within a few days would become the bride 
 
 [37]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 of Samuel Xewell and go with him across 
 the great seas to a new home in the far 
 East. She was a fragile flower of girlhood, 
 apparently unfitted for storm and tempest; 
 but those who looked into the depths of her 
 sad, brown eyes read there the indomitable 
 purpose dwelling in her frail body. 
 
 At the close of that memorable day, Sam- 
 uel Nott, Gordon Hall, and Luther Rice 
 took their departure for Philadelphia, expect- 
 ing to sail in a few days on the Harmony 
 for Calcutta. The others lingered in Beverly 
 and Salem, waiting for wind and tide to 
 favor the sailing of the brig Caravan from 
 the port of Salem bound for the coast of Asia. 
 
 Already the little boat was rocking at its 
 moorings out in the harbor. Compared with 
 the gigantic steamships which cross the ocean 
 to-day, she was a baby craft of perhaps five 
 hundred tons' burden. The Mayflower was 
 about one third the size of the Caravan, while 
 the Titanic was one hundred times larger. 
 On board, her crew were receiving freight 
 and provisions for the long voyage around 
 the Cape of Good Hope to India. 
 
 On shore, four people looked anxiously 
 [38]
 
 The " Caravan
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 each day out toward the black masts of the 
 ship which was to bear them away from 
 everything dear and familiar into experiences 
 which God alone knew. Enough that he 
 knew and would provide for the whole, un- 
 certain future of their lives! 
 
 On Monday, the 17th of February, a ter- 
 rific storm fell upon Salem, almost burying 
 the town in snow. The next day dawned 
 bleak and cold, with a presage in the air of 
 coming events. Before the forenoon was 
 past the desired and dreaded summons be 
 came a reality. A message was brought to 
 the Judsons and Xewells requesting them to 
 go on board at once, that the ship might be 
 ready to sail with the first friendly breeze. 
 
 The inevitable " last things " were hastily 
 collected and carried down to the wharf. The 
 sleigh stood at the door and the long, long 
 good-bys must be said. Down through the 
 snowy streets of Salem to the end of the 
 lowest wharf in town the missionaries were 
 driven, thence to be transferred by the cus- 
 tom-house boat to the Caravan out in the bay. 
 
 It was a dreary, frigid day, but neverthe- 
 less a number of friends gathered at the end 
 
 [39]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 of the pier to show their sympathy with the 
 young missionaries and their brave purpose. 
 During the two weeks of waiting for the 
 Caravan to sail, interest in the new under- 
 taking had mightily deepened. Even those 
 opposed could not check their hearts' impulse 
 to lavish kindness upon the missionaries and 
 their youthful brides. A purse of fifty dol- 
 lars was left at the door one day with the 
 label, " For Mr. Judson's private use." Best 
 of all, money for outfits and salaries had been 
 almost miraculously provided. On January 
 twenty-seventh only twelve hundred dollars 
 was in the treasury of the new mission board. 
 Within three weeks more than six thousand 
 dollars had been freely given, and by the time 
 the two ships Harmony and Caravan sailed 
 the needs of the missionaries were supplied 
 for a year in advance. 
 
 The west wind, which throughout the day 
 had given promise of departure to the long- 
 delayed ship, died away at dusk, and thus 
 removed all hope of sailing that night. From 
 the deck of the Caravan the surrounding 
 scene was desolation itself. The sky was 
 ominously black and dark, stormy waters 
 [40]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 stretched away seaward. On shore, dim lit- 
 tle lights spoke tantalizingly of home. But 
 within, the cabin of the Judsons presented 
 a sharp contrast to the dolefulness without. 
 Adoniram and Ann Judson, Samuel and 
 Harriet Newell, and two young men friends 
 who were spending the night on board, talked 
 exultingly together of their high hopes for 
 a great work to be achieved in Christ's name 
 in the needy countries of the ancient East. 
 They sang hymns from an old singing-book 
 long since forgotten, and they prayed in the 
 " quietness and confidence " which was their 
 daily strength. Ann Judson, shiny eyed and 
 triumphant, sang and talked with almost her 
 usual animation. Somewhat quieter than the 
 others was the youngest of their number, 
 Harriet Newell. Her thoughts clung wist- 
 fully to the mother away over the snowy 
 fields in Haverhill town. Late in the evening 
 she wrote her a letter to be sent back by the 
 pilot-boat on the morrow: 'Here am I, 
 my dear mother, on board the brig Caravan 
 in a neat little cabin. ... I have at length 
 taken leave of the land of my forefathers and 
 entered the vessel which will be my place of 
 
 [41]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 residence till I reach the desired haven. 
 Think not, my dear mother, that we are now 
 sitting in silent sorrow, strangers to peace. 
 O, no; though the idea that I have left you, 
 to see you no more, is painful indeed, yet I 
 think I can say that I have found the grace 
 of my Redeemer sufficient for me his 
 strength has been made perfect in my weak- 
 ness. We have been engaged in singing this 
 evening, and can you believe me when I tell 
 you that I never engaged in this delightful 
 part of worship with greater pleasure? . . . 
 I never shall repay you, my dear mother, 
 for all the kindness and love you have shown 
 me thus far in life. Accept my sincere thanks 
 for every favor, and O, forgive me for so 
 often causing you pain and anxiety. May 
 the Almighty reward you a hundred-fold for 
 your kindness to me. And now, my dear 
 mother, what more shall I say but ask you 
 to pray for me and engage other Christians 
 to do the same. ... It is late I must re- 
 tire dear mother, adieu." 
 
 The following morning, the 19th of Febru- 
 ary, a little after sunrise, the Caravan spread 
 [48]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 her sails to the wind and steered her course 
 straight out to sea. The tall chimney at the 
 entrance of the harbor was a landmark long 
 to be distinguished as it traced a black perpen- 
 dicular against the snowy New England hills. 
 But by and by it vanished into dim space and 
 the great, gray ocean was all around. 
 
 [43]
 
 PERPLEXITIES ON EVERY SIDE 
 
 INSIDE a musty old tavern made of mud 
 and straw, on the banks of the Hoogly 
 river in India, a young woman waited 
 in lonely suspense. The desolateness of her 
 attitude might have revealed her a stranger 
 in a strange land, even had her brown hair 
 and fair skin not marked her instantly as 
 different from the richly brunette women of 
 India. In beauty, however, she belonged 
 among the loveliest in that land of lovely 
 women, and the sad anxiety in her eyes added 
 a softened appeal to her charm. 
 
 For the first time since she landed in India 
 five months before, Ann Judson found her- 
 self alone and unprotected among the strange, 
 dark people of the country, with their 
 stranger tones and gestures. Where her hus- 
 band was and when he would come, she did 
 not know. They had been separated sixteen 
 miles up the river when they received the 
 government order to leave the ship in which 
 they had taken flight from Calcutta two days 
 [44]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 previously. Here she was, without escort, 
 with only a few rupees in her purse, only a 
 few words of the language at her command, 
 the old thatched tavern her only place of 
 refuge, and even its hospitality uncertain. 
 Her father's house in Bradford seemed mil- 
 lions of miles away, as if it were upon an- 
 other planet, and her girlhood life in the 
 New England village almost like another 
 existence. 
 
 This was the solid reality of missionary 
 experience of which she had vaguely dreamed 
 in the early days of her engagement to Ado- 
 niram Judson. ' These are the trials which 
 attend a missionary's life and which I antici- 
 pated," she said to herself, " and which, with 
 God's help, I am ready to meet." 
 
 It was a series of disappointing adventures 
 which had led up to Ann's desolate situation 
 in the river tavern. When our American 
 missionaries landed in Calcutta in June, 
 1812, the East India Company had promptly 
 turned its hostile eye upon them and deter- 
 mined to force them out of the country. This 
 company was a trading corporation which at 
 that time controlled Great Britain's policy in 
 
 [45]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 India. Its officials had no welcome for mis- 
 sionaries, because it was feared that any 'at- 
 tempt to interfere with the idolatrous religion 
 of the native peoples would breed rebellion to 
 British rule. Moreover, a large revenue 
 poured into the treasury of the company from 
 protection given to idol worship, so that the 
 heathen religion was financially profitable. 
 A year later, by the efforts of some Christian 
 gentlemen in England, the charter of the 
 East India Company was amended in its 
 passage through Parliament to insure tolera- 
 tion to missionaries in India. 
 
 In 1812, however, the little groups of 
 American pioneers arriving by the Caravan, 
 and six weeks later by the Harmony, felt the 
 full brunt of government opposition, ag- 
 gravated by the hostile relations then exist- 
 ing between England and America because 
 of the second war between the two countries. 
 
 Upon landing in India the Judsons and 
 Newells had been invited to Serampore to 
 visit the English Baptist missionaries until 
 their companions should arrive by the Har- 
 mony and locations for the new missions be 
 determined. William Carey, the first Eng- 
 [46]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 lish foreign missionary, with his colleagues, 
 Marshman and Ward, had, by persistent 
 struggle, built up a wonderful missionary 
 enterprise in the town of Serampore on the 
 Ganges, fifteen miles from Calcutta. 
 
 Here the newcomers spent ten happy, ab- 
 sorbing days observing the customs of the 
 country and trying to decide, with the help 
 of the older missionaries, where they would 
 settle. Burma had been the land of desire 
 for Adoniram Judson since his student days 
 at Andover, when he had read Col. Symes's 
 Embassy to Ava, and his imagination had 
 responded to its glowing pictures of Oriental 
 life. But Burma was a forbidden territory 
 to missionaries, so said Dr. Carey, because 
 of the cruel despotism of its government and 
 brutal savagery of its inhabitants. Two 
 Englishmen had attempted a mission there, 
 but had abandoned it as hopeless. Dr. 
 Carey's son, the only missionary then in 
 Burma, had been obliged to take refuge for 
 fifty days on an English frigate, and his re- 
 turn to the country had been on precarious 
 terms. Burma presented a dismal prospect; 
 but where should they go to escape the hos- 
 
 [47]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 tility of the East India Company and find 
 a people who would listen to their message? 
 
 One July afternoon their deliberations met 
 with a vigorous interruption. An official 
 messenger arrived at Serampore bearing a 
 summons for Mr. Judson and Mr. Newell 
 to present themselves immediately at the 
 police office in Calcutta. There, an order 
 from the Governor-general was read to them, 
 commanding them to return to America upon 
 the very ship on which they had come, the 
 Caravan, then making ready for her west- 
 ward voyage. Captain Heard had been re- 
 fused a clearance from port unless he gave 
 security that his missionary passengers would 
 be taken on board. What should they do? 
 It was insufferable to think of going home 
 before their work was even begun. The dis- 
 appointment and humiliation were over- 
 whelming, but the belief that God had sent 
 them and meant them to remain was un- 
 shaken. 
 
 There seemed to be but one way of escape, 
 to seek some other heathen country, out- 
 side the jurisdiction of the East India Com- 
 pany. So, with sudden, desperate purpose 
 [48]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 they asked permission to embark for the Isle 
 of France. The Isle of France, now Mauri- 
 tius, was five thousand miles southwest, near 
 Madagascar. Their request was granted, and 
 on the fourth day of August Samuel Newell 
 and his frail wife sailed away from all their 
 friends in a small ship bound for Port Louis, 
 in the Isle of France. The vessel could 
 accommodate but two passengers, and the 
 Newells were chosen to go because Har- 
 riet's frail health made a home an urgent 
 necessity. 
 
 Four months longer Adoniram and Ann 
 Judson lingered in Calcutta, living in daily 
 dread of summary dismissal from the coun- 
 try. Mr. Rolt, an English gentleman, re- 
 lieved somewhat their embarrassing predica- 
 ment by offering the hospitality of his home. 
 There, in his spacious English house, while 
 waiting for a way out of their dilemma, the 
 greatest of their many perplexities assailed 
 them. 
 
 They were confronted by a troublesome 
 problem which could not be evaded, and 
 which pressed daily upon their minds for so- 
 lution. On shipboard, while making the long 
 
 [49]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 voyage of four months from America to 
 India, they had first grappled with the ques- 
 tion of the Baptist belief as distinguished 
 from that of the Congregationalists, and Mr. 
 Judson's old convictions had become strangely 
 disturbed. At first Mrs. Judson took the 
 opposite side in argument and declared with 
 her old independence, " If you become a 
 Baptist, I will not." 
 
 During the first weeks on shore the ques- 
 tion was silenced by the more urgent demand 
 for home and shelter. But in the long sum- 
 mer days in Calcutta, in the seclusion of Mr. 
 Rolt's library, the subject recurred with 
 painful insistence, and they resolved to deal 
 conscientiously and thoroughly with its 
 claims. The result was that they felt them- 
 selves compelled by conviction to withdraw 
 from the Congregationalists, with whom their 
 lot had been cast since childhood, and to join 
 the Baptists. 
 
 In those days communions were more 
 sharply divided than to-day, and to change 
 from one to another usually meant a heroic 
 act of conscience. Especially for the pioneer 
 missionaries was it a difficult and brave de- 
 [50]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 cision. They could hardly expect the con- 
 tinued support of the Congregationalists, nor 
 could they confidently look to the Baptists 
 for financial aid, since that denomination was 
 not organized for missionary activity. Where 
 should they turn? Supporters and friends 
 would be likely to misinterpret their action. 
 Even their own families, when removed by 
 so great a distance, might find their decision 
 hard to understand and accept. Hardest of 
 all they would probably have to be separated 
 in future work from their companions, those 
 old schoolmates and friends who had come to 
 India with them. "A renunciation of our 
 former sentiments has caused us more pain 
 than anything which has ever happened to us 
 through our lives," wrote Mrs. Judson in a 
 home letter. 
 
 One happy surprise came to relieve their 
 downcast condition. To the amazement of 
 all his associates, Luther Rice quietly an- 
 nounced his intention to join the Baptists. 
 In the secrecy of his own thoughts he had 
 been dealing with the question, and his con- 
 clusion was thus reached independently of 
 outside influence. It was a great solace to 
 
 [51]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 the Judsons in their lonely outlook to have 
 the assurance of his companionship in their 
 new mission, wherever it might be. 
 
 Another strong encouragement came from 
 the splendid generosity of the missionaries at 
 Serampore. They held a consultation and 
 agreed to supply funds for the American 
 missionaries out of their own treasury in case 
 money did not arrive from America when 
 needed. They would advance the sums re- 
 quired, and if the American societies could 
 reimburse them, well and good, if not, they 
 would count it a gift to the cause of Christ. 
 
 Mr. Rolt was unfailing in his interest and 
 sympathy with the young people who had 
 come so many thousands of miles from home 
 on a mission of good-will, and had met such a 
 frosty reception at the hands of government 
 authorities. They continued to be his guests 
 until late in November, when one day, about 
 Thanksgiving time at home in New England, 
 a startling order was brought to the house in 
 Calcutta. Mr. and Mrs. Judson and Mr. Rice 
 were commanded by the government to em- 
 bark at once for England upon a vessel of 
 the East India Company. Their names were 
 [62]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 published in the newspaper lists of passengers 
 on the England-bound ship. All hope of es- 
 cape seemed to be cut off this time, but the 
 two young men and one young woman were 
 not ready to acknowledge themselves beaten 
 by the whole East India Company, so again 
 they tried to circumvent its order. 
 
 By some means Mr. Judson and Mr. Holt 
 discovered that a ship named the Creole 
 would sail in two days for the Isle of France. 
 They applied to the chief magistrate for a 
 passport, but he refused them. They then 
 asked the captain if he would take them on 
 board without a pass. He replied: "There 
 is my ship, do as you please." With Mr. 
 Rolt's assistance they secured coolies to carry 
 their baggage, and at midnight " stole like 
 criminals " through the deserted streets of 
 Calcutta, through the gates of the dockyards, 
 which, contrary to night rules, opened to 
 admit them, and on board the forbidden ves- 
 sel. The next morning the Creole sailed out 
 of Calcutta harbor, down the Hoogly river 
 toward the Bay of Bengal and the open sea. 
 
 For two days all was well on shipboard, 
 but toward evening of the second day, a 
 
 [53]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 government dispatch overtook them forbid- 
 ding the pilot to proceed since there were 
 passengers on the ship who had been ordered 
 to England. The pursued passengers must 
 needs leave the vessel at once, even in the 
 darkness of evening, so the two young men 
 entered a small boat to go on shore to a 
 tavern about a mile away. The captain, with 
 the gallantry born of the sight of a lovely 
 woman in distress, bade Mrs. Judson spend 
 the night on the ship, where their baggage 
 also would be allowed to remain. It would 
 be quite safe for her he assured her, even 
 though an officer should come to search the 
 boat. 
 
 Through the night and the next day the 
 Creole lay at anchor waiting for orders. 
 When evening came, Mrs. Judson also was 
 forced to depart hurriedly for land. The 
 owner of the ship heard of its detention and 
 went to police headquarters to inquire the 
 reason. There he was informed that " it was 
 suspected there were persons on board whom 
 the captain had been forbidden to receive." 
 The ship could not proceed until it was 
 proved that no such parties were among the 
 
 m
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 passengers. Mrs. Judson hastened on shore 
 in a small boat while the pilot wrote a cer- 
 tificate that the suspected people were not 
 on the ship. 
 
 At the tavern Mrs. Judson found her hus- 
 band and Mr. Rice and in tense anxiety 
 they consulted as to their next move. What 
 should they do? Escape on the Creole was 
 now hopelessly blocked without a passport. 
 Return to Calcutta would be but a confes- 
 sion of defeat. Where was the way out of 
 this labyrinth of perplexities? Mr. Rice de- 
 cided to start for Calcutta at once, to make 
 one more effort to secure a pass. Mr. and 
 Mrs. Judson spent the night and the next 
 day at the tavern, watching in vain for a 
 message from the ship where their baggage 
 still remained, and dreading lest every 
 European in sight was spying upon their 
 movements. Mr. Rice came back from Cal- 
 cutta to report another refusal. The owner 
 of the ship was in high dudgeon because his 
 vessel was delayed so long on their account. 
 " Perplexed on every side, yet not unto 
 despair," because, as Harriet Newell once 
 said: "He who takes care of the ravens will 
 
 [55]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 not forsake his own children in the hour of 
 their affliction." 
 
 Another uneasy night at the tavern and 
 in the morning a disquieting message from 
 the captain of the Creole! He was per- 
 mitted to sail, but they must remove their 
 baggage from the ship at once. It seemed 
 unwise to linger longer at the tavern, so 
 they decided to journey on to another little 
 Indian inn sixteen miles down the river. It 
 would be hazardous for the two men to show 
 themselves on the prohibited vessel, so Mrs. 
 Judson went alone on board the Creole and 
 made arrangements for the transfer of their 
 baggage. As she could find no small boat, 
 she asked the captain if the baggage might 
 be left where it was until the next tavern was 
 reached. Not only did he readily consent, 
 but invited Mrs. Judson to make the journey 
 herself on his vessel, saying that the river 
 trip in a small craft would be exceedingly 
 unpleasant. 
 
 Again she hurried on shore to notify her 
 
 companions of this change of plan. For the 
 
 second time Mr. Rice set out for Calcutta to 
 
 secure passage, if possible, for Ceylon. Mr. 
 
 [56]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 Judson hired a boat for his own transporta- 
 tion down the river to the tavern appointed. 
 Meanwhile, Mrs. Judson returned to the 
 Creole in the pilot's boat which he had 
 courteously sent on shore for her use. It 
 was an exciting and dangerous chase after 
 the ship which had slipped rapidly down 
 stream with the tide. The river was rough 
 because of the high wind, and the tropical 
 sun blistering in its rays of heat. The 
 native rowers hoisted a sail so large that 
 repeatedly it tilted the boat on one side. 
 To allay the fears of their fair lady passen- 
 ger they kept repeating, " Cutcha pho annah, 
 sahib, cutcha pho annah" " Never fear, 
 madam, never fear." 
 
 Safely at last they came alongside the 
 large vessel, hastened on board, and soon 
 stopped opposite the uninviting old tavern 
 to which Mrs. Judson must go alone. Again 
 the pilot offered his boat to convey her on 
 shore. There, with all speed, she arranged 
 for another boat to go out to the Creole to 
 remove their baggage. Finally, the neces- 
 sary business done, she turned hesitatingly 
 toward the thatched tavern which must har-
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 bor her, welcome or not, until her husband 
 should arrive. 
 
 Longer than it has taken us to recount 
 these adventures, did Ann Judson have to 
 watch and wait for the coming of her hus- 
 band. Several hours dragged by before he 
 appeared at the entrance of the tavern and 
 eagerly sought his wife. Thankfully the two 
 greeted each other, their relief at their mutual 
 safety overcoming for a time anxiety for 
 the future. 
 
 Quickly, however, they began to strain 
 every nerve of thought to find a way out of 
 their present dilemma. Should they, after 
 all, return to Calcutta and face the worst, 
 or should they confide in the tavernkeeper 
 and seek his assistance? Anything seemed 
 preferable to a retreat to the city which had 
 exiled them, so they asked the innkeeper if 
 he could help them secure a passage to 
 Ceylon? He replied that a captain who was 
 a friend of his was due on the morrow, and 
 that very likely he might take them on his 
 ship bound for Madras. Encouraged by this 
 possibility and by the safe arrival of their 
 baggage, they waited two days at the tavern, 
 [58]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 during which time Mr. Rice rejoined his 
 companions. On the third day the looked- 
 for vessel anchored directly opposite the 
 tavern. The innkeeper went on board to 
 intercede on behalf of his fugitive guests, but 
 returned with the refusal of the captain to 
 receive them as passengers. Thereupon they 
 resolved to interview the stubborn captain 
 themselves and beg for leniency. With this 
 slender hope in mind, they sat down to sup- 
 per when a letter was handed to them! 
 They felt as if an actual miracle had been 
 wrought when they found that the letter 
 contained a pass from the chief magistrate 
 for embarkation on the Creole for the Isle 
 of France. ' Who procured this pass for 
 us, or in what way, we are still ignorant: 
 we could only view the hand of God and 
 wonder." Thus wrote Mrs. Judson in a 
 long home letter detailing her many ad- 
 ventures. 
 
 Then followed a frantic pursuit of the 
 Creole, which they feared might be already 
 out at sea, since she had three days' start. 
 It was just possible that she might be an- 
 chored at Saugur, seventy miles down stream, 
 
 [59]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 at the entrance of the Hoogly river. At any 
 rate, they must make the venture and hasten 
 the pursuit. As soon as darkness fell the 
 three fugitives hurried into a small boat and 
 pushed out against the tide for their race to 
 safety. All that night Mrs. Judson watched 
 with wide-open eyes by the side of her hus- 
 band, who slept peacefully until morning. 
 
 The next day wind and tide sped them on 
 their way, and by nightfall Saugur was in 
 sight with the masts of many ships at anchor. 
 Was the Creole among them, or had she al- 
 ready crossed the invisible boundary between 
 river and bay and sailed beyond recall ? With 
 eager eyes they scanned the boats and, joy 
 to behold there was the Creole in their 
 midst! For two days she had been anchored 
 at Saugur waiting for members of her crew. 
 " I never enjoyed a sweeter moment in my 
 life than that when I was sure we were in 
 sight of the Creole" wrote Ann Judson to 
 the Hasseltine house in Bradford. 
 
 [60]
 
 VI 
 THE ISLE OF FRANCE 
 
 SOMETIMES it happens that the love- 
 liest scene in nature becomes the back- 
 ground of the most woful tragedy. 
 The Isle of France, for natural beauty, was 
 among the most charming of the islands of the 
 Indian Ocean. Blue, blue sky was reflected 
 in the waters of the reef-bound harbor, and 
 filmy clouds brooded upon the summits of the 
 mountains. Gleaming springs flashed like 
 quicksilver down the shadowy mountainsides, 
 and the scarlet and blue blossoms of the 
 climbing plant hung from the dark cliffs. In 
 the woods and valleys grew lemon and orange 
 trees, date and coco palms, and a tangle of 
 brightly-colored, fragrant flowers. 
 
 It was this setting of tropical verdure which 
 Saint Pierre chose for his tragic and true 
 tale, Paul and Virginia. It was in the city 
 of Port Louis, at the foot of the moun- 
 tain which sheltered in a rock-bound vale the 
 cabin of Paul and Virginia, that, one hun- 
 dred years later, Samuel and Harriet Newell 
 
 [61]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 met the tragedy of their young lives. Here, 
 also, Ann and Adoniram Judson came too 
 late to succor their friends in their hour of 
 need. 
 
 In January, 1813, after nearly two months 
 of contrary winds and rough seas, the Creole 
 sailed into the harbor of Port Louis and 
 dropped anchor. On deck Mrs. Judson stood 
 with fier husband and Mr. Rice, gazing at 
 the fairyland scene before them, wondering 
 if there at last they would find the home 
 they had sought so many months in vain, 
 wondering too, how soon they would greet 
 Samuel and Harriet Newell and with them 
 compare adventures of the past and pros- 
 pects for the future. As they lingered on 
 the ship waiting for some means of trans- 
 portation to shore, a young man came on 
 board to welcome them, but so slow and 
 reluctant was his step, so changed and hag- 
 gard his face, they scarcely recognized their 
 old friend, Samuel Newell. Before he could 
 speak Ann Judson read the tale which his 
 sorrowful, beseeching eyes revealed. Har- 
 riet, his own beloved Harriet had left him 
 alone in the world. In broken snatches, 
 [6*]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 then and later, he told his friends of his 
 bitter loss. 
 
 The ship on which the Newells had taken 
 passage from Calcutta the August before 
 had been battered unmercifully by winds and 
 waves, so that the voyage lengthened into 
 three anxious months. Far out on the Indian 
 ocean a baby girl was born in the little cabin 
 on the ship's deck and given her mother's 
 name, Harriet Atwood. For a few days 
 joy and hope abounded in the hearts of the 
 parents, but speedily cold and rain fell upon 
 the ill-fated ship, and the baby, unable to 
 endure the exposure, died in her mother's 
 arms. After the child's death Harriet showed 
 the first signs of the fatal disease which 
 rapidly consumed her life. 
 
 When at length the dreadful voyage was 
 over and the belated ship came to port, a 
 British surgeon and a Danish physician min- 
 istered to the sick wife, but to no avail. 
 Gradually her strength waned until the last 
 flicker of hope for her recovery vanished. 
 Night and day Samuel Newell sat by the 
 bedside of his dear one trying to catch every 
 precious word she spoke. Her thoughts 
 
 [63]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 seemed to dwell with perfect restfulness upon 
 Christ and heaven, recurring sometimes to 
 her mother across the seas in the Atwood 
 homestead in Haverhill. ' Tell my dear 
 mother," she said, " how much Harriet loved 
 her. Tell her to look to God and keep near 
 to him and he will support and comfort her 
 in all her trials. Tell my brothers and sisters, 
 from the lips of their dying sister, that there 
 is nothing but religion worth living for. 
 Tell them, and also my dear mother, that 
 I have never regretted leaving my native 
 land for the cause of Christ." 
 
 One afternoon in November, the blindness 
 of death sealed Harriet's brown eyes, and 
 there, in the little mud-walled cottage, she 
 quietly breathed her last. Throughout that 
 awful night Samuel Newell watched beside 
 his dead, a Negro servant his only companion 
 in the silent house. In a land of strangers, 
 without one friend to weep with him, he fol- 
 lowed the body of his wife to the graveyard 
 of Port Louis, where, in the heathy ground, 
 under an evergreen tree which suggested her 
 New England home, was buried the young 
 woman who was the first American to give 
 [64]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 her life for the cause of Christ in the non- 
 Christian world. 
 
 Ann Judson's thoughts turned mournfully 
 toward that burial spot which was the symbol 
 of her welcome in the Isle of France. Who 
 could have thought that death would so 
 speedily claim one of their little band, whose 
 lives were all the more precious to one another 
 because they were so few in number and so 
 immeasurably far from home? With but 
 small assurance that this far-away island was 
 to be their permanent home, the Judsons 
 settled themselves in Port Louis and waited 
 for some unmistakable signs of God's guid- 
 ance. As they waited, they watched for 
 opportunities to serve the need of the people 
 about them. On Sunday Mr. Judson or 
 Mr. Rice preached to the British soldiers 
 stationed on the island. The governor was 
 friendly and would permit a Christian mission 
 to be established, even though he had received 
 warning from the British government at 
 Bengal to " keep an eye upon those Ameri- 
 can missionaries." Moreover, there was con- 
 vincing evidence of the ignorance and degra- 
 dation of the inhabitants of the island. 
 
 [65]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 One evening there was a hideous commo- 
 tion in the courtyard which adjoined the Jud- 
 sons' house in Port Louis. A Negro slave 
 stood with her hands tied behind her back 
 while her mistress beat her unmercifully with 
 a club. Promptly Mrs. Judson opened her 
 door and ventured upon the scene. In broken 
 French she begged the cruel mistress to stop 
 beating her slave. Surprised by the inter- 
 ruption and by the gentle beauty of the 
 strange lady, the woman ceased her blows 
 but angrily insisted that the servant was very 
 bad and had recently run away. Mrs. Jud- 
 son talked quietly with the enraged mistress 
 until her anger seemed to be appeased, al- 
 though, as a parting taunt, she hurled her 
 club at the slave's head with such force that 
 blood ran down upon the girl's clothes. All 
 night the poor creature was left with her 
 hands tied behind her back, and in the morn- 
 ing she was released and set to work. 
 
 The second night the clank of an iron 
 chain was heard as it was dragged across 
 the courtyard. From her quarters in the 
 neighboring house Mrs. Judson saw, to her 
 horror, that the heavy chain was intended for 
 [66]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 the unfortunate slave. To one end of the 
 long chain was fastened a ring large enough 
 to be locked around her neck, and to the 
 ring were attached two pieces of iron which 
 would press against her face on either side 
 and prevent her eating. The slave girl stood 
 trembling as they prepared to put the chain 
 upon her. At mere sight of her servant the 
 mistress fell into a furious temper and began 
 beating her as she had done the night be- 
 fore. Again she was intercepted by the firm 
 hand and gentle voice of Mrs. Judson. 
 ' Your servant is very bad, no doubt," she 
 said in her pretty foreign accent, " but you 
 will be very good to forgive her." Again 
 the mistress drew back her club and finally, 
 yielding to entreaty, consented to forgive her 
 slave and release her from the punishment 
 decreed. Emphatically she declared that par- 
 don was granted, not out of any consideration 
 for the slave, but simply because the Ameri- 
 can lady requested it. The terrified Negress 
 was made to understand the terms of her 
 release. Whereupon she knelt and kissed 
 the feet of the fair white lady who had 
 saved her, crying, " Merci, madame, merd, 
 
 [67]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 madame." Mrs. Judson could scarcely keep 
 back her tears as she received the gratitude of 
 the slave girl. She returned to the house 
 happy-hearted because she had delivered one 
 poor slave from a night of physical misery, 
 but at the same time brooding sadly upon the 
 spiritual misery which she saw daily in the 
 faces of the people about her. 
 
 In March Mr. and Mrs. Judson were left 
 alone in the Isle of France. Mr. Newell 
 departed for Ceylon, away from the scene 
 of his desolated life, and Mr. Rice actually 
 sailed for America, the dear homeland which 
 grew dearer every day. He was going back 
 to tell the Baptist churches, what letters could 
 never adequately tell, that the heathen peo- 
 ples he had seen were in desperate need of 
 the knowledge of Christ, and that over there 
 in distant Asia a young man and his wife 
 were eagerly waiting to be adopted as the 
 first missionaries of the Baptist denomination 
 in America. 
 
 Meanwhile, those two young people lin- 
 gered in Port Louis watching daily for some 
 indication to tell them the place in which God 
 had appointed them to live and labor. There 
 [68]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 was some promise of usefulness in the Isle of 
 France, yet when they compared its popula- 
 tion with that of other regions of the Orient 
 they could not feel warranted in remaining. 
 The ancient East contained hundreds of mil- 
 lions of people, but Christian missionaries 
 were not many more in number than the 
 original group of twelve whom Christ com- 
 missioned to "go and make disciples of all 
 the nations." Among " all the nations " of 
 Asia where should they find a strategic place 
 to establish a Christian mission? This was 
 the anxious query which pervaded the spring 
 days in the tropic island, and to which the 
 summer gave answer unexpected and un- 
 welcome. 
 
 [69]
 
 VII 
 
 WHEN Nancy Hasseltine was a 
 gay, restless schoolgirl her mother 
 once reproved her by saying, " I 
 hope, my daughter, you will one day be sat- 
 isfied with rambling." Little did the girl or 
 mother dream how literally those words 
 would be fulfilled. From the day in June 
 when Mr. and Mrs. Judson went on shore 
 from the Caravan in Calcutta harbor, for a 
 whole long year they knew little else but 
 rambling, incessant traveling from place 
 to place in weary, anxious search for some 
 spot they would be allowed to call home. 
 They had now embarked from the Isle of 
 France, intending to settle in Pulo Penang, 
 or Prince of Wales' Island, in the Malacca 
 Strait, which, since its purchase by the 
 British, was receiving a large population of 
 Hindus, Chinese, Burmans, and Siamese. No 
 ship sailed directly from the Isle of France 
 to Penang, so they must needs take passage 
 to Madras, expecting to proceed thence to 
 the Malacca Strait. 
 [70]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 Early in June the travelers found them- 
 selves again in the domains of the East India 
 Company which twice before had decreed 
 their exile. Their arrival in Madras was 
 promptly reported to the police and the. 
 report forwarded to the supreme government 
 in Bengal. It was plainly to be seen that 
 as soon as a return message could reach 
 Madras they would be arrested and ordered 
 to England. Escape must be immediate and 
 final. Several vessels lay at anchor in the 
 Madras roads and Mr. Judson anxiously in- 
 quired their destination, knowing that the 
 direction of those ships soon to sail must 
 determine the fate of himself and his wife 
 and the new mission. 
 
 Alas, only one would sail in time and that 
 one was destined for the port most dreaded, 
 most formidable in all the eastern world, 
 Rangoon, Burma! The question was now 
 brought to an issue decisive and unescapable. 
 Burma it must be or Europe and home! 
 Which? Yes, which? Should they venture 
 into that wild, barbaric country, outside a 
 civilized government, inside a despotic mon- 
 archy of the most merciless variety? All 
 
 [71]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 their new-found friends in Madras protested 
 against it. The test was stupendous for two 
 young people not yet twenty-five years of 
 age, and it threw them upon God as their 
 only dependence. 
 
 About this time the diary of Ann Judson 
 bore a troubled entry: 
 
 " June 20th. We have at last concluded, 
 in our distress, to go to Rangoon, as there 
 is no vessel about to sail for any other place 
 ere it will be too late to escape a second 
 arrest. O, our heavenly Father, direct us 
 aright! Where wilt thou have us go? What 
 wilt thou have us do? Our only hope is in 
 thee, and to thee alone we look for protec- 
 tion. ... I have been accustomed to view 
 this field of labor with dread and terror, but 
 I now feel perfectly willing to make it my 
 home the rest of my life. . . . To-morrow 
 we expect to leave this place and the few 
 friends we have found here. Adieu to pol- 
 ished, refined, Christian society. Our lot is 
 not cast among you, but among pagans, 
 among barbarians, whose tender mercies are 
 cruel. Indeed, we voluntarily forsake you 
 [72]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 and for Jesus' sake choose the latter for our 
 associates." 
 
 The voyage to Burma proved to be every 
 whit as disagreeable as anticipations of the 
 country had been. It was the most distress- 
 ing and dangerous journey they had ever 
 experienced, not excepting Mr. Judson's trip 
 to England when he was captured by pirates. 
 First of all, a disastrous catastrophe took 
 place at the outset of the voyage. Because 
 of Mrs. Judson's frail health her friends in 
 Madras had procured a European woman 
 servant to accompany her to Burma. This 
 woman appeared to be in normal condition 
 when she went on board the ship, but within 
 a few hours after sailing she fell upon the 
 floor writhing in convulsions. Mrs. Judson 
 labored over her, trying by every means in 
 her power to restore her, but all efforts failed 
 and after a few gasps she died. 
 
 The shock of the sudden death, together 
 with the violent exertion to save the woman's 
 life, threw Mrs. Judson into such an excru- 
 ciating sickness that she was brought very 
 close to death herself. In their uncomfortable 
 
 [73]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 quarters on shipboard the experience was the 
 heaviest hardship they had yet borne. The 
 ship Georgianna was a " crazy " old craft, 
 dirty, miserable, and unseaworthy. There 
 was no stateroom for the two passengers 
 except such as was made by canvas protec- 
 tion on deck. The wind was blustering and 
 the waves choppy. The boat tossed inces- 
 santly, its motion bringing agonizing pain to 
 the sufferer on deck. 
 
 No physician and no medicines were at 
 hand to relieve her distress. The captain 
 was the only other person on board who could 
 speak English, as the Georgianna was a Por- 
 tuguese ship. Mr. Judson was doctor, nurse, 
 and companion. As he sat by the prostrate 
 form of his wife, helpless to mitigate her 
 pain, he realized something of the agony of 
 spirit which Samuel Newell endured as he 
 watched, unfriended and alone, by the death- 
 bed of Harriet in the Isle of France. Ap- 
 parently, there was but one way to save the 
 life of Ann Judson, and that way seemed 
 to be the last and greatest of impossibilities. 
 If the tossing boat could be quiet for one 
 hour relief might come which would lead to 
 [74]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 recovery. Then it was that God's watchful 
 care over his own was beautifully manifested, 
 just as Harriet Newell trustfully said: " He 
 who takes care of the ravens will not for- 
 sake his own children in the hour of their 
 affliction." 
 
 The captain came on deck to inform his 
 passengers that they had failed to make the 
 Xicobar Island, where it was intended to 
 take on a cargo of coconuts, and that they 
 were in imminent danger of being driven 
 upon the Andaman Islands. To escape this 
 fate he would have to steer his vessel through 
 a narrow strait between two of the islands, 
 where he had never been before and which 
 was reputed to be a region of great terror 
 for men and ships. The coasts were said 
 to be inhabited by cannibals who would 
 promptly kill and eat every one on board 
 if they got a chance. Moreover, the channel 
 was beset with perilous, black rocks as deadly 
 to passing ships as great icebergs should they 
 happen to collide. 
 
 With these gruesome possibilities ahead, 
 the ship entered the channel, when suddenly 
 the wind ceased and the water became per- 
 
 [75]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 fectly calm! The islands cut off the wind so 
 completely that the narrow passage was like 
 a sheltered haven, and the moving vessel al- 
 most as quiet as a house on land. The still- 
 ness brought immediate relief to Mrs. Judson, 
 and to her husband the first shining hope of 
 her recovery. Rocks and cannibals were soon 
 left behind and the ship, under more favor- 
 able winds, sailed on toward port. 
 
 But what a port! It was the 13th day of 
 July when the Georgianna entered the harbor 
 of Rangoon, Burma. Dismal, doleful, for- 
 bidding, funereal all the unpleasant adjec- 
 tives in the dictionary could hardly do jus- 
 tice to the city of Rangoon in 1813, especially 
 as it was seen from approaching vessels. 
 Reaching away from the water's edge was a 
 vast, flat swamp, " a sludgy, squdgy creek," 
 with tumble-down bamboo huts raised on 
 poles above the ground. Everything in sight 
 was dilapidated, neglected, filthy. For the 
 first time in their travels Mr. and Mrs. Jud- 
 son saw before them a country in its primi- 
 tive, barbaric condition, untouched by Euro- 
 pean civilization. The prospect sent a stab 
 of terror into their souls. 
 [76]
 
 Rangoon River Front
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 Toward evening Mr. Judson went on shore 
 to reconnoiter, but came back to the ship 
 more cast down than his wife had ever seen 
 him. The night of their arrival in Rangoon 
 marked the bluest experience of all their 
 lives, so they both agreed and recorded in 
 their diaries and letters. Afterwards they 
 thought that they ought to have rejoiced that 
 first night to find themselves actually at the 
 haven of their long desire, a thoroughly 
 heathen country, and moreover, one which did 
 not promptly dismiss them from its shores. 
 But at the time, so heavy was the burden of 
 loneliness and homesickness that their one 
 wish was for speedy death to remove them 
 from the hardships of earth into the freedom 
 of heaven. Sharing each other's distress the 
 husband and wife prayed together and com- 
 mitted themselves wholly to the care of t-heir 
 watchful God, and by and by peace came 
 to their troubled spirits. " Although I have 
 cast them far off among the heathen, and al- 
 though I have scattered them among the 
 countries, yet will I be to them as a little 
 sanctuary in the countries where they shall 
 come." 
 
 [77]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 The next morning preparations were made 
 to go on shore to the city they must learn 
 to call home. Mrs. Judson was not able to 
 walk, as she had not yet left her bed for 
 so long as half an hour. There was no means, 
 of conveyance except a horse which of course 
 she could not ride. Some one's ingenuity 
 found a way at last and she was carried off 
 the ship in an armchair borne by means of 
 bamboo poles on the shoulders of four 
 natives. 
 
 Into the miserable, dirty town, with its 
 bamboo and teak houses and its muddy 
 creeks, the coolies carried their precious bur- 
 den, until, in a shady spot, they halted and 
 set down the chair. Instantly, crowds of 
 Burmans flocked around to gaze at the 
 strange foreign woman. Englishmen were 
 no novelty in the streets of this Burmese sea- 
 port, but Englishwomen were seldom seen 
 and were objects of undisguised curiosity. 
 Involuntarily, Mrs. Judson's head drooped 
 with sickness and weakness, and thus some 
 native women ventured near enough to peer 
 under her bonnet into the pale, lovely face. 
 To their wide-eyed scrutiny she returned a 
 [78]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 friendly smile, to which they responded with 
 a loud laugh. As the coolies lifted the chair 
 to proceed, the onlookers gave a lusty shout 
 which seemed to amuse the foreigners. On 
 they went to the Rangoon custom-house, 
 which was a small, open shed, in which, upon 
 mats on the ground, sat several Burmese 
 custom officials. Mr. Judson was submitted 
 to a thorough search, after which request was 
 made that a Burmese woman be allowed to 
 search Mrs. Judson, to which she obligingly 
 agreed. This ordeal over, the little party 
 moved on to the mission house, outside the city 
 gates, built by the English Baptists, which 
 was to be home for the American missionaries. 
 Where now are the green hills and sunny, 
 white homesteads of New England? Are 
 they but phantoms of memory? And where, 
 yes, where is that blithe, beautiful girl, with 
 her rosy cheeks and brown curls, who went 
 gaily forth to the new academy in Bradford, 
 her thoughts filled with the good times in 
 which she was always the merry leader? Is 
 she, too, a phantom of the past? Or has 
 Nancy Hasseltine found her real self in the 
 heroic, sacrificial life of Ann Judson? 
 
 [79]
 
 VIII 
 
 BY THE OLD RANGOON 
 PAGODA " 
 
 RANGOON was a city of importance 
 in the Burmese empire despite its 
 dilapidated appearance. Besides a 
 population of many thousand, it was the gov- 
 ernment city of an extensive province, ruled 
 by a viceroy who was a high official in the 
 kingdom. Two miles north of the city rose 
 one of the landmarks of Burma, the great 
 Rangoon Pagoda, or Golden Temple of 
 Buddha, visible for twenty miles round 
 about. It was a tall, glittering structure, 
 grotesque in its golden ornamentations and 
 colossal in its proportions. At the season of 
 the great feast of Gotama or Buddha, multi- 
 tudes of people came in boats on the river 
 from long distances to worship and present 
 offerings at the famous pagoda which was 
 supposed to contain a relic of Buddha. Thus 
 Rangoon was honored, perhaps second to 
 Ava, the royal city, for its government seat 
 and its sacred shrine. In years to come it 
 [80]
 
 The Golden Pagoda
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 was destined to rank among the first seaports 
 of the Orient, because of its commanding 
 location upon a branch of the great Irawadi 
 river. Yet, in 1813, for all its governmental 
 prestige, for all its pretentious pagoda, it 
 was still a miserable, dirty, insanitary town, 
 with its glorious possibilities of navigation 
 and vegetation unutilized, and even un- 
 imagined. 
 
 One day Ann Judson climbed the flight 
 of steps leading to the pagoda and was al- 
 lowed to walk about the platform. The scene 
 appeared to her like fairyland run wild. The 
 enchanted castles and ruined abbeys which 
 haunted the pages of story-books she had 
 read seemed to come to life before her eyes. 
 Fantastic images of Buddha, of angels and 
 demons, elephants and lions, added a savor 
 of barbaric picturesqueness. 
 
 Sometimes, as Mrs. Judson looked up at 
 the towering structure from the distance of 
 her own home outside the city gates, the 
 polished spire among the trees suggested the 
 white steeples of New England. Then 
 would come a swift realization of the awful 
 distance, not only in miles, but much more 
 
 [81]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 in character, between the New England 
 church and the Burmese pagoda. Just as 
 the meeting-house was the symbol of the 
 simple, straightforward life of the early 
 American settlers, so this grotesque fane was 
 the symbol of the falsehood and degradation 
 of the inhabitants of the ancient East. 
 
 In the streets and outskirts of Rangoon the 
 two American residents found sufficient evi- 
 dence of the wretched condition of the Bur- 
 mese people. Many sick and diseased folk 
 begged daily their few grains of rice and 
 crept back to their only habitation, a piece 
 of cloth stretched on four bamboos under- 
 neath a shade-tree. Others bowed under a 
 heavy yoke of toil, earning thereby but a 
 meager pittance the larger part of which 
 was snatched away by a greedy government. 
 It was part of the government system to pay 
 no fixed salaries to its officers but to expect 
 them to extort by taxation from the people 
 the means for a luxurious living. The vice- 
 roy, or governor of a province, was popularly 
 known as an ' Eater," since his function 
 seemed to be to devour the possessions of his 
 subjects. Each petty officer divided his spoil 
 [82]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 with the viceroy, and he in turn with the king, 
 whose revenues were unfailing. 
 
 The king's word was absolute law in 
 Burma, so that even a high official might be 
 beheaded at a moment's notice. At one time 
 an officer of the highest rank was seized by 
 the public executioner and laid on the ground 
 by the side of the road with a heavy weight 
 upon his chest and the meridian sun blazing 
 relentlessly upon him. After the king's wrath 
 was thus appeased the man was restored to 
 his former high position. The only way to 
 escape punishment, whether innocent or 
 guilty, was to pay large bribes to the viceroy. 
 Thus everybody was afraid of everybody else, 
 and consequently nobody told the truth. 
 " We cannot live without telling lies," they 
 said. 
 
 Robberies were outrageously daring and 
 frequent, especially in times of famine, when 
 almost every night houses were broken into 
 and thefts or murders committed. The mis- 
 sion house, where the Judsons lived, was par- 
 ticularly exposed to attacks of robbers and 
 wild beasts because of its location outside the 
 city walls. Moreover, in the vicinity was the 
 
 [83]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 place of public execution and of deposit for 
 the refuse of the city. It was a gruesome 
 locality, but the immediate surroundings of 
 the house were unexpectedly pleasant. Be- 
 longing to the property was an enclosed gar- 
 den abounding in delicious fruits, such as 
 oranges, bananas, guavas, pineapples, and the 
 jack-fruit and bread-fruit. The house itself 
 was built of teak-wood and, though left in 
 an unfinished style inside, was large and 
 fairly convenient. 
 
 It was on a July morning in 1813 when 
 the young American missionary walked be- 
 side the impromptu conveyance which carried 
 his sick wife from the ship Georgianna to the 
 mission house outside the gates of Rangoon. 
 There was but one other missionary in Burma 
 at the time, Felix Carey, son of the great 
 William Carey of Serampore. He and his 
 family occupied the Rangoon mission prop- 
 erty, though during the summer when the 
 Judsons arrived he was away in Ava on 
 business for the king. Mrs. Carey was a 
 native of Rangoon and she, with her two 
 children, received the new missionaries into 
 her home. She could speak but little English, 
 [84]
 
 A Burmese House
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 so friendly conversation did not brighten their 
 first days in a strange land. Moreover, it 
 was a difficult task for an Eastern woman to 
 create the home comforts for a Western 
 woman trained to such a different mode of 
 life. To Mrs. Judson, accustomed to the 
 savory cooking of New England, the Bur- 
 mese food was a daily trial. Bread and but- 
 ter and potatoes were constantly missed, and 
 the rice and milk and curried fowl which 
 formed the staple diet were always unsatisfy- 
 ing. Yet, " instead of mourning that we have 
 no more of the comforts of life, we have great 
 reason to be thankful that we have so many," 
 wrote the undaunted Ann. Considering the 
 handicaps of food, climate, and discomforts, 
 Mrs. Judson recovered her health with sur- 
 prising rapidity, and never at any time did 
 the man or woman become shaken in their 
 firm intention to remain in heathen Burma. 
 As Mr. Judson said, " we soon began to find 
 that it was in our hearts to live and die with 
 the Burmans." Through the many vicissi- 
 tudes of the past year and a half they had 
 learned the lesson that God is always on the 
 side of those who do their duty, and that his 
 
 [85]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 help is mightier than any human aid or 
 human need. 
 
 Immediately upon settling in their new 
 home, Mr. and Mrs. Judson began to study 
 the Burmese language, which, as a study, was 
 worse than higher mathematics, Sanskrit, and 
 Hebrew put together. To learn a dead lan- 
 guage like Greek or Latin, or a living lan- 
 guage like French or German, as it is taught 
 in school or college to-day, is like kinder- 
 garten play compared with mastering a liv- 
 ing, Oriental language, mastering it until it 
 is as familiar as your native speech. More- 
 over, to attempt, as the Judsons did, to ac- 
 quire a language without an adequate dic- 
 tionary or grammar or even a teacher who 
 understands a word of your own speech, and 
 with dried palm leaves covered with obscure 
 scratches your only text-book, such a task 
 might well be reckoned among the twelve 
 labors of Hercules. After studying Burmese 
 for more than a year, Mr. Judson still insisted 
 that if he had his choice of being examined 
 in a Burmese book or in a book in the French 
 language which he had studied for about two 
 months, he would without the least hesitation 
 [86]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 choose the French. So much for the intricacy 
 of the Burmese language! 
 
 When the native teacher first came to the 
 mission house he rebelled against accepting 
 the missionary's wife as a pupil. In his 
 country a teacher's skill was considered 
 wasted if bestowed upon such an inferior 
 being as woman. But when he saw that the 
 husband was as eager to have his wife taught 
 as himself, the teacher changed his tactics. 
 From seven in the morning until ten at night 
 the two determined students applied them- 
 selves to their task, going to bed as tired as 
 they had ever been in all their lives. 
 
 Every day and all day they studied and 
 studied, their only recreation being a walk 
 in the garden or adjoining village, their 
 only society found in each other. No word 
 from home had yet reached them and they 
 had been absent a year and a half. As fam- 
 ished as the starving people they saw about 
 them were they when at last, a whole year 
 later, two years and a half after leaving 
 America, the first home letter was laid in 
 their hands! Mrs. Judson was the only woman 
 in the Burmese empire who could speak Eng- 
 
 [87]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 lish, and of course there were no Christians 
 outside the mission household in the entire 
 country of perhaps eight million people. This 
 was the situation in which the woman found 
 herself who, only a few years before, had been 
 the merrymaker of Bradford, the girl whose 
 beauty and cleverness were bywords in the 
 valley of the Merrimac. " Exposed to rob- 
 bers by night and invaders by day," wrote 
 this same girl in her journal, dated Rangoon, 
 August 8, 1813, " yet we both unite in saying 
 we never were happier, never more contented 
 in any situation, than the present. We feel 
 that this is the post to which God hath ap- 
 pointed us; that we are in the path of duty; 
 and in a situation, which, of all others, pre- 
 sents the most extensive field of usefulness." 
 
 On the 19th of September, 1813, the two 
 young missionaries, man and wife, partook 
 together of the sacrament of the Lord's 
 Supper, just as Samuel and Harriet Newell 
 had united in the sacred service in the Isle 
 of France the Sabbath before Harriet's death. 
 Thus, in the mission house of Rangoon, with 
 two lonely foreigners as participants, was 
 born the Christian Church of Burma which 
 [88]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 to-day, a hundred years later, numbers sixty- 
 five thousand people in its membership and 
 over nine hundred church organizations. 
 
 Among her early experiences in Rangoon 
 one of the most entertaining befell Mrs. Jud- 
 son on the day she made her first call upon 
 the wife of the viceroy, introduced by a 
 French lady who lived in the city and was a 
 frequent visitor at the government house. 
 When the two guests arrived Jier highness 
 had not yet arisen and they must await her 
 pleasure. Meantime, the secondary wives of 
 the viceroy diverted and amused them. They 
 gathered like so many children around the 
 two foreigners, examining their clothes, try- 
 ing on their gloves and bonnets and mani- 
 festing the most absurd curiosity. 
 
 At last the vice-reine appeared clad in rich 
 Burmese attire and smoking a long, silver 
 pipe. As she entered the room the other 
 wives retreated to a respectful distance and 
 crouched on the floor, not daring to speak 
 unless addressed. The honored first wife 
 went forward to greet her guests and looked 
 interestedly into the face of the beautiful 
 stranger, the wife of the American teacher. 
 
 [89]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 Graciously she took her by the hand and 
 led her to a seat upon the mat where she sat 
 herself. One of her women in waiting pre- 
 sented a bunch of flowers and the vice-reine 
 removed several blossoms and ornamented 
 Mrs. Judson's bonnet. She then plied her 
 with many questions, especially concerning 
 herself and her husband. Was she the first 
 wife, meaning was she the highest among the 
 many wives she supposed Mr. Judson pos- 
 sessed as did her husband? Did they intend 
 remaining long in the country? 
 
 As they talked, the viceroy himself made 
 a pompous entry into the room. Mrs. Jud- 
 son literally trembled as she saw the huge, 
 savage-looking man, with his long, heavy 
 robe and his spear large enough for Goliath 
 of Gath. This ferocious being was not only 
 the ruler of their city, but a man high in 
 favor at the proud court of Ava, a man 
 who had only to nod his head and his sub- 
 jects were pardoned or beheaded. Yet he 
 too greeted the American lady with surpris- 
 ing graciousness, and asked her if she would 
 drink some rum or wine. As the guests rose 
 to depart, the vice-reine again took Mrs. 
 [90]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 Judson's hand, assuring her that she was 
 happy to see her and bidding her come every 
 day. She then escorted her visitors to the 
 door, where they made their salaams and 
 went away, the ordeal of a state visit in 
 Burma over for that time. Mrs. Judson had 
 decided to make this call hoping thereby to 
 gain a friendly acquaintance with the vice- 
 reine, which, in case of trouble with the Bur- 
 mans, would admit her to the wife when Mr. 
 Judson might be refused access to so august 
 a personage as the viceroy himself. It re- 
 mains to be seen how the charm of per- 
 sonality which was Mrs. Judson's heritage 
 from girlhood won for her and her husband 
 marvelous favors from the haughty nobility 
 of Burma. 
 
 As a further precaution against danger in 
 those unsettled times, Mr. and Mrs. Judson 
 concluded, after six months' residence in the 
 outskirts, to move into a house within the 
 city wall. By so doing they would not only 
 escape unnecessary peril of robbers, but would 
 come in closer contact with the people. Only 
 seven days after they left the mission house 
 a band of fifteen or twenty desperate men, 
 
 [91]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 armed with knives, spears, and guns, attacked 
 a house in the neighborhood, stabbed the 
 owner, and departed with everything upon 
 which they could lay their hands. The vice- 
 roy was so enraged at this bold plunder that 
 he dispatched a chief officer with three hun- 
 dred men to run down the thieves, with the 
 result that seven robbers were put to death 
 in most brutal fashion at the place of public 
 execution. 
 
 Two months after this consternation spread 
 through the city, another alarming event 
 made the missionaries realize the uncertainty 
 of existence in a heathen city. On a Sunday 
 morning in March they walked out to the 
 mission house to spend the day in quiet wor- 
 ship, as was their weekly habit. As they 
 reached the house, a servant met them with 
 the news that a fire was raging near the town. 
 They hurried to the spot and found several 
 houses burning briskly and the flames travel- 
 ing in straight course toward the city. No 
 efforts whatsoever were made to extinguish 
 the fire, so there was reason to suppose the 
 whole town would be consumed. They has- 
 tened to the gates in order to enter the city 
 [92]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 and return to their house in time to remove 
 their belongings, but lo, the gates were tightly 
 closed! The poor, terrified people had shut 
 the gates imagining, like foolish children, that 
 they could thus shut out the flames, even 
 though gates and walls were made wholly of 
 wood. Mr. and Mrs. Judson waited per- 
 sistently until at last the gates were opened, 
 and they hurried home to gather up their pos- 
 sessions and transfer them swiftly to the 
 mission house beyond the zone of danger. All 
 day the fire burned and burned until walls, 
 gates, and houses innumerable were destroyed, 
 and thousands of families were shelterless. 
 
 Thus, fire and robbers and dangers un- 
 dreamed surrounded the two missionaries. 
 But they went about the day's work undis- 
 mayed. The golden shrine of Buddha, the 
 old Rangoon pagoda, looked indifferently 
 down upon the confused, distressed life of 
 the people in the city, a silent witness of the 
 powerlessness of Buddhism to save its fol- 
 lowers. In the hearts of the two strangers 
 in their midst burned the message of a God 
 of love who alone could redeem the people of 
 Burma from bondage. 
 
 [93]
 
 IX 
 CHILDREN'S VOICES 
 
 IT was a January day in 1815, and prep- 
 arations for departure were being made 
 in the Judson household in Rangoon. 
 Who could be going away, and where? Was 
 it possible that they were both leaving Burma, 
 having given up the mission as a hopeless 
 task? That did not seem likely, and more- 
 over the house was in its usual condition, its 
 furnishings undisturbed. One small trunk 
 stood ready for removal to the ship, and 
 presently Mrs. Judson came in dressed for a 
 journey. Evidently she was the traveler, and 
 her husband was to be left behind. Never 
 since their marriage had they been parted for 
 any length of time, and the peculiar circum- 
 stances of their isolated life had made them 
 unusually dependent upon each other. Now, 
 however, they must face a separation of two 
 or three months at least, and the prospect 
 was doleful indeed. 
 
 Mrs. Judson was about to sail for Madras 
 to consult a physician, as her health was 
 [94]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 breaking down under the climate and priva- 
 tions of Burma, and no medical help was 
 available there. She had refused to permit 
 her husband to accompany her, as the new mis- 
 sion would suffer too much from the absence 
 of them both. They were just beginning to 
 make themselves understood in the Burmese 
 language, and a few people were turning a 
 listening ear to the story of a God who cared, 
 though they but dimly comprehended the 
 meaning of the strangely beautiful message. 
 These first signs of a harvest to come were 
 too precious to neglect, and the language 
 must be all the more arduously studied in 
 order to make the story plain to the bewil- 
 dered people. 
 
 When it was decided that Mrs. Judson 
 must go to Madras, she and her husband 
 ventured one day into the presence of the 
 viceroy of Rangoon with an unusual petition. 
 They offered a small present, as was custom- 
 ary in Burma when seeking a favor from 
 those in authority. The viceroy looked at 
 their gift and inquired their business, where- 
 upon Mr. Judson made bold to ask if a 
 Burmese woman might be allowed to travel 
 
 [95]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 with Mrs. Judson across the Bay of Bengal 
 to Madras. This was indeed an extraordi- 
 nary request, for did not the Burmese law 
 prohibit the departure of a native woman 
 from the country? Yet, marvelous to relate, 
 the viceroy turned instantly to his writer and 
 bade him make out an official, order, giving 
 the desired permit and eliminating all ex- 
 pense. It may be that something of the 
 indomitable courage shining in the eyes of 
 the frail woman before him appealed to the 
 heart of the arrogant Burmese ruler and 
 moved him to show such amazing condescen- 
 sion. At any rate the husband and wife, 
 as they went away from the government 
 house, felt humbly grateful to God for this 
 encouragement at the outset of the journey. 
 
 The second dread was the thought of re- 
 peating that voyage across the Bay of Bengal 
 which in the summer of 1813 had brought 
 such unforgetable distress. Here, again, 
 difficulties vanished, thanks to the gallant 
 thonghtf ulness of the ship's captain. Not 
 only did he provide every necessity for his in- 
 valid passenger, but at the end of the voyage 
 refused to accept payment for her passage. 
 [96]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 Kindnesses on every side smoothed the 
 way for the traveler, and none the less in 
 Madras, where Ann Judson was well re- 
 membered. It was nearly two years since 
 she first came to Madras, there to be con- 
 fronted with the horrible possibility of a 
 home in Burma, that country of which she 
 said she had heard such " frightful accounts." 
 Though the prospect sent a shiver to her soul 
 she raised no protest, because, as people said 
 of her, her loyal resolve was to go anywhere 
 for Christ. Such steadfastness is not lightly 
 forgotten. When she came again to Madras 
 her old friends received her into their homes 
 and many delighted to do her honor. After 
 a stay of six weeks she prepared to return 
 to Burma, her health having perceptibly im- 
 proved. Before leaving she sent a fee of 
 seventy rupees to the physician who had at- 
 tended her, which amount he promptly re- 
 turned with the message that he was happy 
 if he had been serviceable to her. 
 
 To Rangoon again, and how eager is the 
 anticipation compared with the dreary fore- 
 bodings of the first voyage to Burma! But 
 who is this new, small passenger who goes 
 
 [97]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 with Mrs. Judson on board the vessel in 
 Madras roads? A little girl stands by her 
 side on the ship's deck and waves good-by to 
 the friends on shore. Is she really going 
 home with Mrs. Judson, and who can she be? 
 The mystery is easily solved if you will go 
 back and meet some of Mrs. Judson's friends 
 in Madras. During her two visits to the city 
 she had experienced the kindness lavished 
 upon missionaries b}^ a young man named 
 Von Someren, son of a major in the Dutch 
 army. Often he would go down to the ships 
 lying in Madras roads and insist upon claim- 
 ing the missionaries who arrived as his guests. 
 He would entertain them in his spacious 
 house, advise "them in their business negotia- 
 tions, and speed them on their way up coun- 
 try or across seas. In his home lived three 
 orphan children, small cousins who had been 
 left to his guardianship after the death of 
 their parents. The youngest, Emily Von 
 Someren, became very dear to Mrs. Judson 
 and when she thought of returning to Burma 
 she longed to take the little girl with her. 
 One day she made known her desire to Mr. 
 Von Someren, and willingly he entrusted his 
 [98]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 ward, then seven years old, to the care of 
 the woman he admired so deeply. Thus it 
 came about that a small companion sailed 
 back to Burma with Mrs. Judson. 
 
 Meanwhile, over in Rangoon a young man 
 was working unceasingly, that he might in 
 some measure forget the loneliness of his de- 
 serted home. From early morning until late 
 evening he gave himself to language-study, 
 his only respite being a conversation with the 
 natives, which was really study in another 
 form. There was scarcely a single person in the 
 Burmese empire with whom he could talk 
 sympathetically as friend to friend, and with 
 whom he could enter into the deeper fellow- 
 ship of prayer. His loneliness was enormous, 
 and accentuated by contrast the richness of 
 his companionship with the wife who shared 
 so completely his interests and his great ab- 
 sorbing purpose. When her ship should sail 
 into the harbor, the joy of living would come 
 again into his heart. 
 
 Thus, when the spring days returned, new 
 signs of life and activity returned also to the 
 mission house in Rangoon. A woman's step, 
 buoyant with the rebound of health, was 
 
 [99]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 heard about the house and tones of a childish 
 voice reached the open, veranda-like room 
 where Mr. Judson and his teacher sat at 
 study. The dry old Burmese language be- 
 came newly vitalized by the accompaniment of 
 these homelike sounds. Mrs. Judson had long 
 ago taken upon herself the entire management 
 of the household, that her husband might be 
 left free for uninterrupted study. Her own 
 lessons thus became interspersed with fre- 
 quent digressions into household affairs, but 
 these very digressions proved in the end her 
 quickest means of acquiring a vocabulary. 
 Often in her contact with the servants she 
 would be obliged to talk Burmese all day. 
 The small Emily picked up Burmese words 
 and phrases day by day, until she too could 
 speak the language and sing the songs. Al- 
 though she lived in the country but six years, 
 yet to the end of her life she could speak 
 and write Burmese. One hymn which she 
 frequently sang in after life always brought 
 the tears to her eyes, though she could never 
 tell why. 
 
 So those busy days of spring and summer 
 led on to an autumn of surpassing happiness. 
 [100]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 As a forerunner of the great joy before them, 
 good news came traveling across the seas 
 from America to bring thanksgiving into the 
 little household in Rangoon. At last, after 
 three years of waiting, came the assurance 
 that the Baptist churches of America had 
 accepted Mr. and Mrs. Judson as their first 
 missionaries and assumed responsibility for 
 their support. A burden also was lifted from 
 the English missionaries at Serampore, who 
 all this time had been supplying funds for 
 the two Americans, according to their gen- 
 erous promise, but out of meager resources. 
 Not in vain had Luther Rice sailed back 
 to his native land to tell the story of what 
 his eyes had seen in the needy countries of 
 the Orient. In May, 1814, a second history- 
 making assembly had been held in the United 
 States similar to the eventful gathering in 
 Bradford in June, 1810. From Massachu- 
 setts to Georgia the Baptist ministers had 
 rallied their forces in conference at Philadel- 
 phia and had there organized the second for- 
 eign missionary society of America, known 
 originally as the Triennial Convention, later 
 as the American Baptist Foreign Missionary 
 
 [101]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 Society. The new mission board not only 
 guaranteed support for Mr. and Mrs. Jud- 
 son, but held out the hope that some glad 
 day other missionaries would be sent to labor 
 beside them. Perhaps in some wonderful 
 future the Baptist denomination of America 
 might accept from the hands of its pioneer 
 missionaries the whole country of Burma to 
 develop for the great King, just as formerly 
 the governments of Europe received from the 
 claims of their pioneer discoverers whole terri- 
 tories in North America to develop for the 
 sovereigns at whose will they had gone across 
 the Atlantic. 
 
 There in the frontier home in Rangoon 
 two lonely settlers were comforted by the 
 knowledge that they were not forgotten by 
 Christians in America. This glad sense of 
 relief prepared the way for the blessing which 
 came into their home on the llth day of 
 September, when a little son was born, the 
 only child of foreign parents in the city of 
 Rangoon. Although no doctor or nurse could 
 be secured for the young mother, her hus- 
 band ministering to all her needs, yet two 
 weeks' time found her writing home, " Since 
 [102]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 the birth of our little son my health has been 
 much better than for two years before. I 
 feel now almost in a new state of existence. 
 Our hands are full, and though our prospects 
 in regard to the immediate conversion of the 
 Burmans are dark, yet our trust in God is 
 strong." In that same letter, after wishing 
 that her mother might see her sprightly little 
 boy, she went on to say, " We hope his life 
 may be preserved and his heart sanctified, 
 that he may become a missionary among the 
 Burmans." 
 
 Even his name embodied his parents' hopes 
 for his manhood, for he was named in mem- 
 ory of a dauntless pioneer missionary in the 
 New England colonies, Roger Williams. 
 Into every day of that autumn and winter 
 the baby Roger, by his sunny presence, 
 brought something of the spell and brightness 
 of Christmas. He was the plaything, pet, 
 and cherished companion of his busy parents, 
 and, baby that he was, he seemed to feel in 
 his little heart a return of the affection lav- 
 ished upon him. Often he would lie for hours 
 on a mat by Mr. Judson's study table, con- 
 tent if only he could see his father's face. If 
 
 [103]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 his mother or father passed his cradle without 
 taking him up his blue eyes would follow 
 them wistfully to the door, and fill with tears, 
 so that, constrained by the sadness of that 
 little face, they would have to turn back to 
 the cradle. When study hours were over they 
 hastened to find Roger to take him into the 
 garden for exercise and for their own joy- 
 ous recreation. There was no such specter 
 as loneliness existent when the baby was their 
 companion. 
 
 Thus the winter days sped happily by, but 
 when spring came again anxiety crept grad- 
 ually into the mother's heart. Every night 
 a touch of fever flushed the little body, but 
 since the daytime found him apparently 
 healthy and active, they hoped the fever 
 would disappear with that bugbear of baby- 
 hood, teething. One morning, after his 
 mother had taken him from his cradle, he 
 coughed violently for half an hour. A high 
 fever followed and continued through the day, 
 though giving place on the morrow to re- 
 freshing sleep. The third day the cough and 
 fever returned and a Portuguese priest, the 
 only person of medical pretensions in the 
 [104]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 place, was summoned. He prescribed some 
 simple remedies, but they brought no relief 
 to the strange distress in the baby's throat, 
 which caused such hard breathing it could be 
 heard some distance away. During the fourth 
 night the mother sat beside her sick child 
 until two o'clock, when she was so fatigued 
 that the father relieved her watch. He gave 
 the little fellow a drink of milk which he took 
 with eagerness and then fell asleep in his 
 cradle. For half an hour he slept quietly, 
 when, without a struggle, his breathing ceased 
 and the baby Roger was gone. 
 
 In the afternoon of that same day a pro- 
 cession of forty or fifty Burmese and Portu- 
 guese followed the heart-broken parents to a 
 little grave in an enclosure of mango trees 
 in the garden. All who knew the " little 
 white child," as the vice-reine called him, 
 strove to express their sympathy. A few 
 days later her highness came with all the 
 pomp of her high position to proffer con- 
 dolences. If the degree of her sympathy was 
 proportioned to the size of her retinue, it was 
 large indeed, for two hundred officers and 
 attendants followed in her train. When the 
 
 [105]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 sad-faced mother came to greet her guest, the 
 vice-reine smote her breast, saying, " Why did 
 you not send me word that I might have 
 come to the funeral?" Mrs. Judson replied 
 that she did not think of anything at the time, 
 so great was her distress. Whereupon the 
 Burmese noblewoman tried sincerely to com- 
 fort a sister woman in grief, bidding her not 
 to weep, turning also to Mr. Judson and 
 cautioning him lest the sorrow destroy his 
 health, which all too evidently was on the 
 decline. Not forgetting her duties as hostess, 
 Mrs. Judson served her guest with tea, sweet- 
 meats, and cake, which seemed to give her 
 pleasure. All the while she was longing for 
 the chance to serve the deep life needs of the 
 Burmese vice-reine who, in all her visits to 
 the government house, had manifested such a 
 friendly spirit, such a cordial welcome to- 
 ward the wife of the American teacher. If 
 only she could return her kindness by leading 
 her to accept the greatest of all gifts, even 
 God's Christmas Gift to his human children! 
 One lovely spring day, a short time after 
 the vice-reine's call at the mission house, a 
 gracious invitation proceeded from her high- 
 [106]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 ness to the American family in Rangoon. 
 Would they become her guests on a trip into 
 the country to benefit their health and to 
 " cool their minds," as she expressed it? They 
 readily consented and presently a tall ele- 
 phant with a howdah upon his back, appeared 
 at the gate of the mission house for their 
 conveyance. A long, imposing procession 
 formed and wended its way toward the woods. 
 Thirty men, with spears and guns in their 
 hands and red caps on their heads, led the 
 march. Directly behind them walked a mon- 
 strous elephant caparisoned with a gilt how- 
 dah, in which sat the tall, graceful figure of 
 the vice-reine, clad in red and white silk. In 
 the place of honor behind her ladyship rode 
 the American guests followed by three or 
 four elephants carrying the vice-reine's son 
 and government officers. At the rear came 
 a lordly retinue, two or three hundred strong, 
 the men and women retainers of the govern- 
 ment house. 
 
 Through the woods the elephants trudged 
 with soft, " squdgy " tread, breaking down, 
 at the command of their drivers, the small 
 trees which obstructed progress. In the midst 
 
 [107]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 of a beautiful garden, luxuriant with wild, 
 tropical growth, the procession halted, and 
 under a wide-reaching banyan tree mats were 
 spread for hostess and guests. Again the 
 vice-reine sought by every means to divert 
 and entertain her guests. She gathered fruit 
 and pared it, plucked flowers and knotted 
 them together, and presented these friendly 
 tokens with her own hands as a mark of ex- 
 treme favor. At dinner her cloth was laid 
 beside that of her guests while she freely 
 dispensed the bounty prepared. 
 
 In the evening the procession returned to 
 the city, and a tall elephant stopped before 
 the mission house for its riders to dismount. 
 Since the death of little Roger, homecom- 
 ing had lost its keen zest, its poignant ex- 
 pectancy. Yet out in the fragrant garden 
 was a sheltered spot which bound their 
 hearts more strongly than ever to the land 
 of their adoption. There, underneath the 
 mango trees, the mother often sat and wept 
 by the grave of her first-born child. But 
 even as the tears fell she wrote to a friend 
 at home: "God is the same when he afflicts 
 as when he is merciful; just as worthy of 
 [108]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 our entire trust and confidence now as when 
 he entrusted us with the precious little gift." 
 
 Meanwhile, the little Dutch girl, Emily, 
 crept all the more closely into the hearts of 
 her adopted parents in their lonely life in 
 Rangoon. 
 
 [109]
 
 X 
 
 ANN'S DILEMMA 
 
 CHRISTMAS day in a country where 
 there is no Christmas! What a 
 mockery of the jovial old saint who 
 drives his reindeers down the chimneys of chil- 
 dren's fancies! Has he access only to the 
 hearts and homes of children of the West? 
 Oh, Christmas, Christmas, with your radiant 
 spell cast upon the winter days, where is the 
 sign of your presence in this Burmese city, 
 where the " temple bells are callin'," calling 
 to the worship of an "idol made of mud"? 
 In the great, golden pagoda, is there no place 
 for the worship of a little Child born in a 
 manger in Bethlehem? 
 
 In the mission house in Rangoon, Christ- 
 mas, in the year 1817, was celebrated by the 
 disturbing events of departure. Again the 
 little family group was to be broken by the 
 absence of one of its members on an uncer- 
 tain, compulsory journey. Before sunset, 
 Mr. Judson would have sailed away from 
 Rangoon, down the Irawadi river toward the 
 [110]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 sea, and then north along the coast to Chitta- 
 gong, a port of Arracan, belonging to the 
 dominions of the East India Company. It 
 must be a momentous errand which would 
 draw Adoniram Judson away from Rangoon 
 at this critical stage in the development of 
 the mission. 
 
 ]S T o less a motive than the welfare of the 
 mission itself had impelled this curious jour- 
 ney into an unknown region. After four 
 years of preparatory work, the time had come 
 at last for a public proclamation of the gospel 
 which hitherto the missionaries had expressed 
 only by their daily lives, by private conversa- 
 tion, and recently by the circulation of two 
 tracts and the book of Matthew printed in 
 Burmese. The knotty language had become so 
 familiar to Mr. Judson that he was now 
 ready to venture before a critical native audi- 
 ence. If, however, one Burmese Christian 
 could stand by his side and declare in his 
 native tongue to his own countrymen the 
 beauty of the Christian religion, the appeal 
 would be a hundred times more powerful. As 
 yet there was no avowed disciple of the Lord 
 Christ among the natives in Rangoon, al- 
 
 [111]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 though a number had shown an awakening 
 interest. In the port of Chittagong were 
 said to be several converts, the remnant of an 
 abandoned English mission in that region. 
 It was likely that Mr. Judson could persuade 
 one of these native Christians, who spoke Bur- 
 mese, to return with him to Rangoon and assist 
 him in his task of public preaching. Thus, 
 when it was announced that a ship would 
 sail on December 25 from Rangoon to Chitta- 
 gong, to return in a few weeks, a unique 
 opportunity seemed to have presented itself. 
 Furthermore, a second purpose would be 
 accomplished by this sea voyage of about ten 
 days in each direction. Renewed vigor would 
 be imparted to Mr. Judson's worn-out body 
 and mind. For nearly two years he had suf- 
 fered acute pain in his eyes and head, caused 
 by close study of the puzzling Burmese char- 
 acters. For a period of four months he had 
 not been able to read a page in a Burmese 
 book, yet, during those very months, out of 
 the knowledge already stored in his brain, he 
 had compiled a grammar of the Burmese lan- 
 guage! Twenty years later this grammar 
 was published and pronounced by linguists
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 to be a masterpiece in its brevity and com- 
 pleteness. Once before during his sickness 
 a sea voyage had been planned, but sudden, 
 surprising news from Calcutta prevented de- 
 parture. A new missionary and his wife had 
 just arrived from America and would pro- 
 ceed to Rangoon by the next boat. Mrs. 
 Judson would of course remain at home to 
 welcome the newcomers, and an unexpected 
 improvement in health detained Mr. Judson 
 also. 
 
 In October, 1816, Mr. and Mrs. Judson 
 had received into their home the first Ameri- 
 cans who had ever crossed their threshold. 
 Such eager inquiries about the homeland as 
 filled those first wonderful days when isola- 
 tion was exchanged for friendly companion- 
 ship! Mr. Hough, the new missionary, 
 brought a timely present from the mission- 
 aries at Serampore, a printing-press, the 
 first to be seen in the Burmese empire. So it 
 came about, with Mr. Hough's knowledge of 
 printing and Mr. Judson's knowledge of 
 Burmese, that Christian publications were 
 issued by the hundreds and thousands in the 
 Burmese language. Thus it also came about 
 
 [113]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 that Mrs. Judson and the small Emily were 
 left in the midst of friends when Mr. Judson 
 sailed away to Chittagong, expecting to re- 
 turn in the space of three months at the 
 longest. 
 
 The New Year dawned, bringing with it 
 tasks new and old. On every Sunday some 
 twenty or thirty Burmese women gathered 
 regularly at the mission house to listen to 
 Mrs. Judson as she told them new, wonder- 
 ful stories of a God who truly loved his 
 human children. Sometimes their tongues 
 found ready questions, or else expressed an 
 intention to worship the true God and go 
 no more to the idol temple. But their under- 
 standing and conviction were yet to be tested. 
 
 From the government house came unfail- 
 ing signs of good-will toward the American 
 residents. Now and then an elephant ap- 
 peared before the gate to convey them on 
 excursions with the viceroy's family. Her 
 highness, the vice-reine, showed unmistakable 
 affection for Mrs. Judson, with whom she 
 had several times permitted friendly conver- 
 sation upon the subject of religion. From 
 her hand also she had accepted the Gospel 
 [114]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 of Matthew, and the tract and catechism 
 recently printed, even commanding that one 
 of her daughters be taught to memorize the 
 catechism that Mrs. Judson had written. But 
 no further indication did she give of belief 
 in the new religion", though Mrs. Judson 
 watched eagerly for every token of deepen- 
 ing interest. 
 
 The last of January the coming of a vis- 
 itor brought surprise and joy to the mission 
 household. About a year before, when Mr. 
 Judson was sitting with his teacher in his 
 veranda-like room, a man of very respectable 
 appearance, attended by a servant, had 
 come up the steps and sat down before him. 
 After a few preliminaries the stranger asked 
 abruptly, " How long time will it take me 
 to learn the religion of Jesus? " Mr. Judson 
 replied and then proceeded to ask him how 
 he had heard about Jesus. The man an- 
 swered that he had seen two little books. Mr. 
 Judson then handed him the tract and cate- 
 chism, both of which he recognized instantly 
 and read sentences here and there, remarking 
 to his servant, " This is the true God, this is 
 the right way." " More of this sort of writ- 
 
 [115]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 ing," was his repeated request, to which Mr. 
 Judson responded that he was even then 
 translating a larger book which would be 
 ready in two or three months. " But," inter- 
 posed the man, " have you not a little of 
 that book done which you will graciously give 
 me now? " Mr. Judson folded a few pages 
 of his unfinished manuscript and gave him the 
 first five chapters of the book of Matthew. 
 Immediately, his desire gratified, the man 
 rose and went away. 
 
 For a year he had not returned, though 
 Mr. Judson heard through a friend that he 
 was reading his books " all the day " and 
 showing them to every one who called upon 
 him. He had been appointed governor of a 
 group of villages in another region and came 
 but seldom to Rangoon. Evidently upon his 
 first opportunity he had resorted to the mis- 
 sion house. In course of their conversation 
 Mrs. Judson asked him if he had become a 
 disciple of Jesus Christ. " I have not yet," 
 he replied, " but I am thinking and reading 
 in order to become one. I cannot yet destroy 
 my old mind. . . . Tell the great teacher 
 when he returns that I wish to see him, 
 [116]
 
 The Queen's Monastery
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 though I am not a disciple of Christ." Hav- 
 ing requested and obtained the remaining 
 portion of the Gospel of Matthew and a 
 supply of catechisms and tracts, he and his 
 attendants went away. 
 
 Thus it was that encouraging signs gave 
 zest to the activities of the mission, and Mrs. 
 Judson's hope quickened in expectation of 
 her husband's return. Any day, now, his ship 
 was due in port, for the time limit of three 
 months had nearly expired. Mrs. Judson 
 scanned the horizon for the first hazy lines 
 of a ship's mast. One day in March a vessel 
 did indeed come creeping into the harbor, 
 after twelve days' passage from Chittagong, 
 but alas, it was not the boat in which Mr. 
 Judson had sailed, and it brought most 
 alarming news! Neither Mr. Judson nor 
 the ship on which he had left Rangoon had 
 been seen or heard of at Chittagong! This 
 stray report brought by a native craft would 
 not have been fully credited had it not been 
 confirmed by messages which Mrs. Judson 
 received at the same time from friends in 
 Bengal. Certain it was that her husband's 
 ship had not reached its destination. Could 
 
 [117]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 it be that the course had been changed and 
 the ship was yet safe in some unknown waters 
 or port? This was a possibility, but on the 
 other hand was the grim specter which fre- 
 quently loomed larger than a possibility, that 
 the ship on which Mr. Judson had sailed and 
 all on board were lost. Oh, to know the 
 truth, whatever the truth might be! 
 
 Into the midst of this agonizing suspense 
 came annoyances from an unexpected quar- 
 ter. An ugly-sounding order was received 
 one afternoon bidding Mr. Hough appear 
 at once at the court-house to " give an account 
 of himself." This gruff message was so to- 
 tally unlike any communication hitherto sent 
 by the government that bewilderment and 
 alarm spread quickly through the mission 
 household. Mr. Hough hastened to obey the 
 command, followed at a distance by a group 
 of frightened teachers, servants, and other 
 adherents of the mission. As it was late 
 when he reached the court-house he was 
 merely commanded to give security for his 
 presence early the next morning, when, as 
 they remarked with fiendish emphasis, " if 
 he did not tell all the truth relative to his 
 [118]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 situation in the country, they would write 
 with his heart's blood." 
 
 In such a predicament Mrs. Judson would 
 ordinarily have appealed to the vice-reine, 
 but only a short time before, the friendly 
 viceroy and his family had been recalled from 
 Rangoon to Ava. His successor was but 
 slightly acquainted with the Judsons, and 
 moreover his family had been left behind in 
 the royal city. It was contrary to Burmese 
 etiquette for a woman to appear at court in 
 the absence of the vice-reine, consequently 
 Mrs. Judson's tactful intervention was by 
 custom prohibited. Mr. Hough could not 
 speak Burmese with sufficient ease to permit 
 him to appeal in person to the viceroy, so 
 there was no recourse but for him to return 
 on the morrow to the court session and to the 
 uncertain fate there in store. 
 
 For two days he was held at the court- 
 house and forced to answer, through an in- 
 terpreter, the most absurd questions, such as, 
 what were the names of his parents, and how 
 many suits of clothes did he possess, the an- 
 swers to which were recorded with utmost 
 formality. He was not even allowed recess 
 
 [119]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 long enough to procure food, but was inces- 
 santly subjected to examination. On Sun- 
 day morning summons was again received 
 to present himself at court that the inquiry 
 might continue. Exasperated beyond endur- 
 ance, Mrs. Judson determined to discover 
 whether or not the viceroy was responsible 
 for these maneuvers, or whether the subordi- 
 nate officers were playing a shrewd game for 
 bribes. Accordingly, her teacher wrote a 
 petition addressed to the viceroy, stating their 
 grievances, including the order to appear at 
 court on their sacred day, and requesting that 
 " it might be the pleasure of his highness that 
 these molestations cease." 
 
 With fine disregard of Burmese custom 
 Mrs. Judson prepared to go herself to the 
 government house to intercede with the vice- 
 roy. Accompanied by Mr. Hough she en- 
 tered the outer court and fortunately caught 
 the eye of the viceroy as he sat in state sur- 
 rounded by the officers of his court. He 
 recognized her at once and with amazing 
 condescension bade her come in and make 
 known her request. Mrs. Judson handed 
 the petition to one of the secretaries, who was 
 [120]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 promptly ordered to read it. At its con- 
 clusion the viceroy inquired in a stern voice 
 of the very officer who had been most aggres- 
 sive in tormenting Mr. Hough, " Why the 
 examination of this foreign teacher had been 
 thus prolonged?" At the same time he gave 
 a written order that Mr. Hough should not 
 be disturbed upon his sacred day and that 
 further annoyance should cease. Thus the 
 petty officers were foiled of their purpose 
 by an act that they did not dream a woman 
 would dare even to attempt. 
 
 " Sweet are the uses of adversity " to a 
 brave spirit like Mrs. Judson, but " ugly and 
 venomous " was the form of its next ap- 
 proach. For the first time in the history of 
 Rangoon a furious epidemic of cholera in- 
 vaded the city, accelerated in its progress by 
 the hottest and driest weather of the year. 
 Only the coming of the rainy season would 
 be likely to check the deadly march of dis- 
 ease. From morning until night the death 
 drum beat its gruesome lament, reminding 
 Mrs. Judson and her companions of their 
 imminent danger, but also of the unfailing' 
 watchfulness of their God. In very fact,. 
 
 [121]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 throughout the long plague, not a person 
 within the mission enclosure was touched by 
 its ravages, though neighbors perished on 
 every side. 
 
 Added to the wail for the dead was the 
 mad din set up each night to expel the evil 
 spirits who, the natives believed, stalked per- 
 petually through the streets wantonly de- 
 stroying life. A cannon fired at the govern- 
 ment house gave the signal whereat every 
 Burman began to beat upon his house with a 
 club or anything that would make a noise. 
 The uproar was hideous, and only a very 
 deaf or stubborn spirit would have refused 
 to depart, yet the disease remained as viru- 
 lent as ever. To one anxious woman the 
 wail by day and by night was naught com- 
 pared with the low, mournful cry of her heart 
 for the return of her husband. Where in 
 this whole Eastern world could he be, and 
 when would he come again home? 
 
 When could he come? was the next ques- 
 tion to torture Mrs. Judson's mind. Already 
 rumors of war were adding to the confusion 
 of disease. England was said to be at enmity 
 with Burma and on the verge of bombarding
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 the country. Was this the reason that no 
 ships from English ports had entered the 
 harbor in recent months? Did this account 
 for the stealthy departure, one by one, of the 
 boats anchored at Rangoon until but a single 
 lonely craft was left? That too would be off 
 to Bengal at the first opportunity, leaving the 
 missionaries stranded in Rangoon with every 
 kind of unnamed terror in prospect. 
 
 Mr. Hough believed it to be their duty to 
 escape while there was yet opportunity. Mrs. 
 Judson, on the other hand, was strongly 
 averse to leaving the one spot in all the w r orld 
 where her husband knew she was to be found. 
 To remain in Rangoon even in loneliness, war, 
 and pestilence was her dominant desire and 
 her felt duty. Yet how could Mr. Judson 
 return to her in Burma if an embargo should 
 be laid upon English ships? But where, oh, 
 where could she find him in Bengal or the 
 vast country of India? Should she go or 
 should she stay? If she decided to go, she 
 was in dread of missing her husband for 
 months if not forever. If she decided to stay, 
 he might be cut off from reaching her, and 
 moreover her life would be seriously en- 
 
 [123]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 d angered. It was a dreadful dilemma, the 
 biggest and most puzzling she had ever en- 
 countered in all her career. 
 
 At last, discouragement and perplexity bat- 
 tered down her first resolve, and with a heavy 
 heart she made preparations to leave Ran- 
 goon. With the hope begotten of a great 
 love she planned definitely upon meeting her 
 husband in Bengal, and went so far as to 
 engage his Burmese teacher to go with her 
 that language study might be resumed. The 
 teacher's courage failed, however, and he broke 
 his engagement, fearing the embarrassment 
 of his position should war be declared be- 
 tween Burma and Great Britain. 
 
 On the oth of July, the mission house was 
 left behind, while Mrs. Judson and Emily, 
 with Mr. and Mrs. Hough, went on board 
 the last remaining ship in the harbor. Even 
 yet Mrs. Judson was not convinced of the 
 wisdom of her decision. The old reluctance 
 grew and grew even as the ship receded 
 slowly and surely down the river toward the 
 sea. Nothing could reconcile her to this 
 enforced departure, but it was too late now to 
 retrace her course. She seemed to be the
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 victim of adverse circumstances, but usually 
 her will was stronger than circumstances. 
 Why not now? What was the meaning of 
 this persistent set of her heart to return to 
 Rangoon, just as in the journeyings of the 
 Master his face was steadfastly set to go to 
 Jerusalem ? 
 
 The vessel was even now at the point where 
 the river meets the sea, when the course was 
 suddenly changed and directed toward the 
 nearest harbor. Unseaworthy conditions had 
 been discovered and the ship must be re- 
 loaded. Here was Mrs. Judson's one and 
 only chance for escape, and with determined 
 voice she announced her intention to return to 
 Rangoon. The captain agreed to send her 
 back in a boat and to forward her baggage 
 the next day. It was evening when Mrs. 
 Judson and her little companion, Emily, en- 
 tered the city and sought out the house of the 
 only Englishman left in Rangoon, where they 
 spent the night. The next morning they 
 went out to the mission house to the surprise 
 and joy of all the Burmans left on the prem- 
 ises. Alone with her little girl, among people 
 of an alien race, in a disturbed, isolated city, 
 
 [125]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 Mrs. Judson wrote in her diary of July 14: 
 " I know I am surrounded by dangers on 
 every hand, and expect to feel much anxiety 
 and distress, but at present I am tranquil, 
 intend to make an effort to pursue my studies 
 as formerly and leave the event with God." 
 
 Within two days of the return to Ran- 
 goon, a long lost vessel sailed into the har- 
 bor, even the very ship on which Mr. Jud- 
 son had departed six months before! Mrs. 
 Judson hastened to the captain to hear the 
 news he brought of her husband. It was only 
 an unfinished tale he had to tell. The ship 
 had not been able to make its intended port, 
 Chittagong, and for three months had been 
 tossed about in the Bay of Bengal without 
 a haven. At last they had crept into Masuli- 
 patam, a port north of Madras on the coast 
 of India, where Mr. Judson had left the 
 ship to go to Madras, seeking speedy pas- 
 sage thence to Rangoon. Beyond this point 
 the captain could give no account of his 
 whereabouts, but to know that he had escaped 
 shipwreck and was trying his best to return 
 home brought a great lift of expectancy to 
 Mrs. Judson's spirits and confirmed the wis- 
 [126]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 dom of her decision to go back to Rangoon. 
 This ship was the first to arrive from India 
 in four months, but the fact of its coming 
 indicated that war was not so imminent as 
 was supposed. 
 
 A few days later Mrs. Judson was sur- 
 prised by the return of Mr. and Mrs. Hough 
 to the mission house. The belated ship upon 
 which they had taken passage for Bengal was 
 to be detained in port for some weeks, and 
 their departure was deferred accordingly. 
 Mrs. Judson hoped and prayed for the com- 
 ing of her husband before they should go 
 away again, that she might not be under the 
 necessity, as she wrote, " of living in this 
 dreadful country, and out here in the woods 
 without a friend or protector." Her daily 
 program of study was resumed and diligently 
 followed. "This," she wrote, "I find the 
 best method to avoid dejection; besides, my 
 conscience will not permit me to sit idly down 
 and yield to those desponding feelings in 
 which a Christian should not indulge." 
 
 Thus one day after another dragged by 
 until a week spent itself in enforced study 
 and anxious vigil. Each morning brought 
 
 [127]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 quickened hope and each night a fresh dis- 
 appointment. But on one eventful day early 
 in August, hope brightened into fulfilment 
 and disappointment lost itself in a transport 
 of joy. An English vessel had arrived at the 
 mouth of the river, and news almost too 
 good to be true Mr. Judson was on board! 
 To his wife, the reaction from five long 
 months of daily suspense was almost too much 
 to endure. 
 
 In the living-room of the mission house 
 the husband and wife sat and recounted their 
 experiences of the seven months of separa- 
 tion. Into her story of encouragement fol- 
 lowed by disaster he could easily read the 
 high courage and resourcefulness which had 
 actually saved the mission from ruin. Into 
 his narrative of fever, thirst, starvation, and 
 disappointed hopes she read the high trust 
 in God which had saved her husband from 
 despair, if not from death. And together 
 they faced the future, praying the old prayer 
 of the first years in Rangoon: " God grant 
 that we may live and die among the Bur- 
 mans, though we never should do anything 
 else than smooth the way for others." 
 [128]
 
 XI 
 " THE EAST A-CALLIN' " 
 
 IN the year 1822 an English sailing ves- 
 sel was making its slow passage between 
 Calcutta and Liverpool by the old cir- 
 cuitous route around the Cape of Good Hope. 
 On board were a number of European pas- 
 sengers returning home after a more or less 
 prolonged stay in the East. One of the larger 
 cabins was occupied by three children and a 
 sweet-faced lady evidently not their mother. 
 The lady's brown eyes had a tired, patient 
 look as if she had endured uncommon griefs, 
 yet at the same time they shone with an un- 
 wonted fire as if proclaiming an experience 
 fraught with high adventure. Her complex- 
 ion bore that peculiar tan which seemed to 
 indicate long residence in the tropics. 
 
 Her manner and appearance awakened 
 something more than the curious interest of 
 her fellow travelers, something strangely akin 
 to reverence. During those days when she 
 was prostrated in her berth, not by seasick- 
 ness but by an old complaint, two young 
 
 129]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 women of high social rank came frequently 
 to inquire for her and to read aloud such 
 portions of literature as she should select. 
 Often her choice was from the Bible to which 
 she added her own clear-voiced entreaty for 
 a life of self-denial and high service. Her 
 two visitors were seriously impressed with the 
 sincerity and purposefulness of this stranger 
 who they discovered had been one of the 
 pioneer missionaries to go from America to 
 the Orient, and who, after ten years' absence, 
 was on her way home for her first visit. 
 
 Yes, the traveler was no other than Ann 
 Hasseltine Judson, who had bidden her hus- 
 band good-by in Rangoon, Burma, and was 
 now voyaging westward toward her girlhood 
 home in America. Was there, do you think, 
 no tinge of regret in her joyous anticipations 
 of father, mother, sisters, and all the dear, 
 familiar scenes of New England? Leagues 
 and leagues behind in old Rangoon lay the 
 home of her womanhood, the first and only 
 home of her married life. It had cost labor 
 and sorrow abundant to establish that home, 
 but the priceless treasure of one's heart is 
 always won out of travail of spirit. Thus 
 [130]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 her life had become fibered deeply into the 
 environment of heathen Burma, and to trans- 
 plant it was like uprooting a firmly embedded 
 tree. " Rangoon, from having been the thea- 
 ter in which so much of the faithfulness, 
 power, and mercy of God had been exhibited, 
 from having been considered, for ten years 
 past, as my home for life, and from a thou- 
 sand interesting associations of ideas, had 
 become the dearest spot on earth. Hence you 
 will imagine that no ordinary consideration 
 could have induced my departure." These 
 words Mrs. Judson wrote to a friend as she 
 was leaving Burma. 
 
 It was indeed " no ordinary consideration," 
 but a life and death concern which had com- 
 pelled the long separation from her husband 
 and her beloved work. She had become worn 
 out by a deep-seated disease which foiled 
 every attempt at its cure. Before his very 
 eyes her husband had seen her wasting away, 
 until the truth was forced upon him that un- 
 less his wife were sent at once to a more 
 hardy, northern climate, she could live but a 
 few months. It was a Spartan decision, but 
 as Mrs. Judson said, " duty to God, to our- 
 
 [131]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 selves, to the board of missions, and to the 
 perishing Burmans compelled us to adopt this 
 course of procedure, though agonizing to all 
 the natural feelings of our hearts." 
 
 Upon arrival in Calcutta, in September, 
 1821, Mrs. Judson found the captains of 
 America-bound vessels unwilling to receive 
 passengers, as cargoes had been accepted to 
 the extent of their ships' capacity. Passage 
 to England was therefore the alternative and 
 a kindly-disposed captain agreed to take her 
 for a moderate sum provided she would share 
 a stateroom with three children who were 
 being sent to England. When the father 
 heard of the proposition he offered to pay 
 the entire cost of the cabin that his children 
 might have the benefit of Mrs. Judson's com- 
 panionship. 
 
 Mr. Kipling has declared that " If you've 
 'card the East a-callin', you won't never 'eed 
 naught else." And so it was with Mrs. Jud- 
 son. The further she sailed toward the West 
 the more tenaciously her thoughts clung to 
 the Eastern city she had left behind. Be- 
 fore her eyes stretched the great expanse of 
 ocean, but before her inner vision appeared
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 a curiously wrought building, made partly 
 of bamboo and thatch, and located on one of 
 the pagoda roads in Rangoon. Memory and 
 imagination haunted this place, for it was 
 the scene of her most precious experiences of 
 the last two years and was now the probable 
 setting of her husband's daily labor. It was 
 their wayside chapel, or " zayat," as the Bur- 
 mese called it, built by Mr. Judson on his 
 return from the unfortunate Chittagong trip. 
 In the zayat Moung Nau had openly con- 
 fessed his allegiance to Jesus Christ, es- 
 teeming it a rare privilege to be the first 
 Christian convert among the Burmese people, 
 even though he had naught to expect in this 
 world but persecution and death. There, on 
 the Sunday after Moung Nau's baptism, the 
 Lord's Supper was for the first time adminis- 
 tered by Mr. Judson in two languages, Eng- 
 lish and Burmese, an event which had been 
 the desire of his heart for six long years. 
 In the open room at the front the learned 
 teacher Moung Shwa-gnong had appeared 
 day after da^ questioning and reasoning, his 
 philosophic mind disturbed but not convinced 
 until months later when he finally thrust aside 
 
 [133]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 fear of disgrace and persecution and besought 
 Mr. Judson for baptism. In the inner room 
 the Wednesday evening class was accustomed 
 to meet with Mrs. Judson, and cherished were 
 the memories of those evening hours. Espe- 
 cially did her thoughts linger with her friend 
 Mah Men-la, that capable, influential Bur- 
 mese woman, the first of her sex to acknowl- 
 edge herself a Christian; who later, of her 
 own accord opened a village school that the 
 boys and girls might not have to resort to 
 the Buddhist priests for instruction. There 
 was also her faithful sister Mah Myat-lah and 
 there were Moung Thah-lah, Moung Byaa, 
 and the rest of that stalwart little band of 
 disciples, members of the church, twelve in 
 number when Mrs. Judson left Burma. No 
 wonder that she and her husband felt as if 
 they had entered a little way into the experi- 
 ence of their Lord, whose heart was drawn 
 out in yearning love toward his twelve dis- 
 ciples ! 
 
 Never would Mrs. Judson forget the stead- 
 fastness of those first converts, three in num- 
 ber, who rallied around her husband in his 
 hour of bitter discouragement, when he was 
 [134]
 
 A Burmese Christian Home
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 on the verge of abandoning the mission and 
 removing to Chittagong. " Stay," they said, 
 " until a little church of ten is collected, and 
 then if you must go we will not say nay. 
 In that case we shall not be concerned. This 
 religion will spread of itself. The emperor 
 cannot stop it." 
 
 It was the failure of the Ava trip which 
 had wrought that depression of Mr. Judson's 
 usually buoyant spirits. Oh, the chagrin and 
 ignominy of that journey! Mrs. Judson's 
 heart sank as she recalled the experiences 
 which she had heard her husband narrate so 
 often. Mr. Judson, accompanied by his 
 new missionary associate, Mr. Colman, had 
 traveled in a native rowboat three hundred 
 and fifty miles from Rangoon to the royal 
 city Ava, that they might present to the 
 emperor a petition for religious freedom in 
 Burma. Carefully had they prepared to 
 conciliate his majesty with gifts, choosing as 
 the most appropriate offering, the Bible 
 printed in six volumes, each volume bound in 
 gold leaf and enclosed in a rich, embroidered 
 covering. 
 
 And then Mrs. Judson pictured the mis- 
 
 [135]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 sionaries' reception at the court of Ava, the 
 splendor of the royal palace, vast and golden, 
 and the proud, disdainful young monarch, 
 with his rich, Oriental garb and gold-sheathed 
 sword, and his commanding eye; before him 
 the American teachers, her husband and Mr. 
 Colman, kneeling and humbly proffering their 
 petition for freedom to preach Christ's gospel 
 to the Burmese people! It was a dramatic 
 moment, a heathen emperor for the first time 
 since the days of Rome confronted face to 
 face by the quiet, determined followers of 
 Jesus Christ! At first his majesty listened 
 somewhat attentively and then reread the 
 petition, handing it back without a word. 
 Breathlessly the two missionaries waited as 
 he took the tract, beautifully printed for his 
 benefit, from the hand of his minister of 
 state, and read the first two sentences which 
 assert there is but one eternal God, when, 
 with supreme indifference, he flung it to the 
 ground, thus deciding their fate. Two cut- 
 ting sentences pronounced by the minister 
 finally blasted their hopes: " In regard to the 
 objects of your petition, his majesty gives 
 no order. In regard to your sacred books, 
 [136]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 his majesty has no use for them, take them 
 away." Then followed the ignominious re- 
 treat from the palace grounds and down the 
 river to Rangoon to the solace of home and 
 a few loyal friends. 
 
 One member of that little family group 
 had traveled with Mrs. Judson from Burma 
 to India, Emily Von Someren, who was re- 
 turning to her childhood home in Madras to 
 spend the time of her foster mother's absence. 
 She could picture the child of ten years sit- 
 ting sedately before a class of aged Bur- 
 mese men and women teaching them their 
 letters. And last summer Emily had been 
 the mainstay of the household, when Mr. and 
 Mrs. Judson were both sick with fever at 
 the same time with no attendant but the girl 
 of thirteen. God had been good to lend them 
 the little Dutch girl for so long a time. 
 
 Added to memories of the past, came reali- 
 ties of the present charged with pleasure un- 
 expected. Soon after Mrs. Judson landed in 
 England, Mr. Joseph Butterworth, an emi- 
 nent Christian gentleman and member of 
 Parliament, claimed her as the guest of his 
 home. In his house she met many distin- 
 
 [137]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 guished people, among them Wilberforce, 
 Babington, and Somers, the king's chaplain. 
 Afterwards Mr. Butterworth, in alluding to 
 her visit, said that it reminded him of the 
 apostolic injunction: "Be not forgetful to 
 entertain strangers, for thereby some have 
 entertained angels unawares." 
 
 Friends in Scotland heard of Mrs. Judson's 
 arrival in England and urgently invited her 
 to visit them, offering to defray her expenses 
 thither. Thus she spent several weeks in that 
 wonderful little country, with its thrilling 
 history and stanch Christian people. While 
 there she received a letter from the Baptist 
 mission board in America asking her to 
 come at once to the United States by the 
 New York packet. She hastened to Liver- 
 pool to take passage upon this ship, but was 
 dissuaded by some kind ladies in that city 
 who insisted upon paying her expenses upon 
 a larger, more comfortable vessel. 
 
 Consequently, on August 16, on board the 
 Amity, Mrs. Judson recorded in her diary: 
 " Should I be preserved through the voyage, 
 the next land I tread will be my own native 
 soil, ever loved America, the land of my 
 [138]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 birth. I cannot realize that I shall ever 
 again find myself in my own dear home at 
 Bradford amid the scenes of my early youth, 
 where every spot is associated with some ten- 
 der recollection. But the constant idea that 
 my husband is not a participator of my joys 
 will mar them all." 
 
 The beautiful coloring of October lay upon 
 the New England hills when Ann Hasseltine 
 Judson returned along the old Boston Road 
 to her father's house in Bradford. The voy- 
 age from Burma had hardly seemed so in- 
 tolerably slow as the last ten miles over which 
 the stage-coach crept its way. One by one 
 familiar landmarks came into view, well- 
 remembered roads leading to neighboring 
 towns, houses where lived old acquaintances, 
 a distant village on a hill, and flowing swiftly 
 through the valley, the dear old river Merri- 
 mac. Excitement quickened every moment 
 and was at its topmost pitch when the cluster 
 of white houses forming the village of Brad- 
 ford emerged in sight. Now they are ap- 
 proaching Bradford Academy, the " pet and 
 pride of the community," yet still the same 
 humble little building in which Nancy Has- 
 
 [139]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 seltine and Harriet Atwood went to school 
 some eighteen years ago. And now at last 
 they are drawing near the Hasseltine home- 
 stead and the welcome of father, mother, 
 Rebecca, Mary, and Abigail. 
 
 What a home-coming it was! Ten years 
 of absence and sometimes no letter from the 
 wanderer for a year or more at a time! On 
 her part, two solid years and a half of hungry 
 expectancy before the first home letter ar- 
 rived! What wonder that the Hasseltine 
 family felt almost as if they had received 
 their youngest daughter from the dead! 
 What wonder, too, that the house was 
 thronged with visitors from morning until 
 night, neighbors, friends, and kindred from 
 near and far coming to welcome the girl they 
 used to know, who, as a woman, had traveled 
 farther than any of the stay-at-home New 
 England folk had ever dreamed! And what 
 thrilling, unimaginable experiences she had 
 to narrate, and how the foreign missionary 
 venture branded as " wild and romantic " ten 
 years ago, seemed to be justified in the light 
 of the wonderful work begun in Burma! 
 
 It was a glad, proud moment for Miss 
 [140]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 Abigail Hasseltine, the preceptress of Brad- 
 ford Academy, when her younger sister, al- 
 ways her favorite, stood before the academy 
 students and told them of her loved work in 
 the East, its hardships and hindrances and 
 its glorious prospects. Like Miss Abigail, 
 the boys and girls were captivated by the 
 speaker's grace and beauty and thrilled by 
 her whole-hearted enthusiasm. 
 
 But, alas, Mrs. Judson had not counted 
 the cost of this home-coming, had not once 
 imagined its joy would exact so heavy a 
 price. From the hour of arrival in her 
 native land excitement robbed her nerves 
 of their equilibrium. For the first four 
 nights she was not able to close her eyes in 
 sleep. Then came the immense shock of 
 joy at the reunion with her family and 
 friends, and for six weeks she could not 
 obtain one quiet night of sleep. The con- 
 stant round of visitors, together with the 
 cold of an approaching New England winter 
 undermined her health to such a degree that 
 she was in a most alarming condition. The 
 very purpose of her trip to America was 
 being defeated, and however drastic the 
 
 [141]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 measure, she must devise some way to secure 
 complete rest and quiet in a milder climate 
 than Massachusetts. 
 
 One . expedient suggested itself as feas- 
 ible. Mr. Judson's only brother, Elnathan, 
 was a surgeon of considerable skill working 
 under government appointment in Balti- 
 more. He had sensed the urgency of his 
 sister's situation and had frequently written 
 begging her to come south to take the treat- 
 ment for her disease which could not be at- 
 tempted with safety in the north. Her 
 " Indian constitution " as she called it, was 
 ill adapted to the rigors of a New England 
 climate after long habituation to the tropics. 
 
 Thus, even in America, Mrs. Judson had 
 to make heroic decisions, but heroic decisions 
 seemed to have become almost the law of 
 her life. A courageous act it was to tear 
 herself away from her father's house after 
 six weeks' presence and ten years' absence, 
 yet it was her paramount duty to regain her 
 health and to subordinate every other in- 
 terest. So, late in November, she traveled 
 bravely forth from Bradford to Providence, 
 thence by steamboat to New York, where she
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 paused for one interesting, memorable night. 
 A large number of people, hearing of her 
 brief stay in the city, assembled to give her 
 welcome and to pray with one accord for 
 the mission work in Burma. It was a brac- 
 ing experience to find such heartfelt interest 
 in the far-away mission, yet the very exulta- 
 tion of feeling mingled with thoughts of the 
 distant home in Rangoon wrought such a 
 havoc of fatigue that she was scarcely able 
 to proceed on her journey to Baltimore. 
 
 For the next four months Mrs. Judson 
 made a brave struggle for health. Through 
 her brother's influence she was attended by 
 the most eminent physicians in Baltimore, 
 who agreed in assuring her that she would 
 recover by springtime, but could not have 
 lived through the winter had she stayed in 
 New England. Even in the milder climate 
 of Maryland it was no easy task to recuper- 
 ate spent energy and heal the deep-seated 
 disease. Although for a time company was 
 excluded and the coveted opportunity to tell 
 of the need in Burma prohibited, yet even 
 in her sick room Mrs. Judson worked daily 
 for the mission she loved better than life it- 
 
 [143]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 self. Many friends in England had be- 
 sought her to write a history of the Ameri- 
 can mission in Burma of which she and her 
 husband had been the founders. This she 
 had essayed to do, beginning on shipboard 
 during the voyage across the Atlantic, and 
 now resuming the labor at the rate of five 
 hours a day despite weakness and pain. The 
 book was written in the form of letters ad- 
 dressed to Joseph Butterworth, Esq., M.P., 
 London, her kind host and patron during 
 her stay in England. Before Mrs. Judson 
 left America her manuscript was printed, 
 and to-day, in a few libraries and private 
 collections is still treasured the little old- 
 fashioned volume in its original garb of 1823. 
 Of all the interesting mail from near and 
 far which came to brighten Mrs. Judson's 
 isolation, do you imagine anything brought 
 such a thrill of satisfaction as those letters 
 which bore the marks of long travel from 
 Rangoon, Burma? One day in February a 
 copy of Mr. Judson's journal reached his 
 wife and with breathless interest she read 
 those closely-written pages. Five more con- 
 verts to Christianity, among them three 
 [144]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 women who had formerly attended Mrs. 
 Judson's Wednesday meeting in the zayat! 
 Eighteen members of the church of Christ 
 in Burma, a number pitifully small when 
 you remember the millions of people, and 
 yet hopefully large when you stop to think 
 that from a heathen idol to a heavenly Father 
 is a long way for the human mind to travel 
 in its search for God ! * You will readily 
 imagine my anxiety to get back to Rangoon," 
 wrote Mrs. Judson to her sister soon after 
 the receipt of the Burmese letter. 
 
 When the opportunity for usefulness was 
 so glowing with promise it was galling to 
 one's ambition to be held captive in a sick 
 room, yet in that period of quiet retirement 
 from the world Mrs. Judson's spirit was 
 being equipped for the great tribulation 
 through which she was destined to pass. It 
 seemed as if by her prayers she had entered 
 into that shining region of peace and light 
 where dwell the " very inhabitants of 
 heaven," and had brought away something 
 of its radiant atmosphere. God had become 
 the solace and delight of her inner life, and 
 from this time on, " neither death, nor life, 
 
 [145]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 nor angels, . . . nor any other creature " 
 would be able to separate her " from the love 
 of God which is in Jesus Christ our Lord." 
 This was just the armor her soul needed 
 for its coming warfare. 
 
 In March and April Mrs. Judson spent 
 several weeks in Washington, reading proof 
 of her book, which was finished and in press. 
 There, as everywhere she went, she left the 
 impress of a lovely personality absolutely 
 devoted to God and to the work he had given 
 her to do in the world. While she was in 
 Washington, the Baptist General Conven- 
 tion, otherwise known as the mission board, 
 held its annual session in the city. From its 
 number a committee was appointed to confer 
 with Mrs. Judson regarding the Burma 
 mission, and at her suggestion several im- 
 portant measures were adopted. Those who 
 came in touch with her on this occasion, as 
 well as many others, realized as they had 
 never done before, the claim of Burma upon 
 the Baptist churches of America, to whose 
 efforts exclusively God had committed this 
 portion of his needy world. 
 
 With the warmer weather of spring Mrs. 
 [146]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 Judson was able to return to Bradford, 
 though only for a fleeting visit, because she 
 purposed to sail for Burma early in the sum- 
 mer. In vain did her friends entreat her 
 to remain another year that her health might 
 be completely restored. The voice of the 
 East was " callin' " so audibly in her soul 
 that she could literally " 'eed naught else." 
 Some mysterious foreboding told her she 
 was going away never to return, but this 
 strange, solemn conviction no whit lessened 
 her desire to depart. 
 
 On a June day in 1823, a large group of 
 Christian people assembled at the Boston 
 wharf to bid farewell to three missionaries 
 who were sailing for the East, Mrs. Ado- 
 niram Judson and Mr. and Mrs. Jonathan 
 Wade, destined, all three, for the American 
 mission in Burma. The summer setting of 
 this scene was quite unlike the bleak, wintry 
 day in February, 1812, when the first mis- 
 sionaries from America to the heathen world 
 sailed out of Salem harbor. As different too 
 as summer is from winter was the expectancy 
 singing in Mrs. Judson's heart, for she was 
 this time on her way home. 
 
 [147]
 
 XII 
 
 THE GOLDEN CITY OF AVA 
 > 
 
 WITHIN sound of the pagoda bells 
 in old Rangoon and within sight 
 of the broad river leading to the 
 sea, Adoniram Judson stood looking intently 
 toward the west. His slight, alert figure and 
 his keen brown eyes easily identified him 
 with the young man who had led his classes 
 and his classmates at Brown and Andover. 
 His face had always been that of the scholar, 
 sensitive and thoughtful, but lines of invinci- 
 ble determination and marks of strong suffer- 
 ing now revealed his manhood's experience. 
 Despite all the ravages of a tropical and un- 
 civilized country for the last ten years, he 
 was still youthful in face and form, still as 
 immaculate in appearance, despite the old- 
 fashioned cut of his clothes, as if he had just 
 emerged from the tidy New England par- 
 sonage which was his boyhood home. 
 
 In point of fact he had just emerged from 
 
 his well-ordered study in the mission house 
 
 in Rangoon, the room which had been his 
 
 perpetual retreat for the past ten months 
 
 [148]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 while he strove to banish anxiety and loneli- 
 ness by unremitting application to study. 
 During that period of waiting for his wife's 
 return he had finished his translation of the 
 New Testament and had written in Burmese 
 a summary in twelve sections of the vast con- 
 tents of Old Testament history, two enor- 
 mous tasks, equal to the output of a dozen 
 ordinary brains. The stint of his mind was 
 now accomplished, but the desire of his heart 
 was not yet realized. When would the ship, 
 bringing to him more precious cargo than 
 all the costly merchandise which ever crossed 
 the seas, come sailing into port? He strained 
 his eyes seaward to catch the first glint of 
 light on an approaching sail. 
 
 After Mrs. Judson left Burma, more than 
 two years before, her husband had again 
 been enticed up the river to the royal city, 
 Ava. His new missionary colleague, Dr. 
 Price, had been summoned thither by order 
 of the king himself, who had heard of the 
 foreign doctor's skill and desired an exhibi- 
 tion of his ability. In this royal invitation 
 Mr. Judson perceived an opportunity to 
 press his claim a second time on behalf of 
 
 [149]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 religious liberty for the Burmese followers of 
 Christ. On this occasion his hopes were not 
 blighted as formerly, for the king and his court 
 extended a gracious reception to the American 
 doctor and teacher, and moreover displayed 
 astonishing readiness to learn the meaning of 
 the new religion which the Western strangers 
 had introduced into the old Buddhist empire. 
 After four months' stay in Ava, during which 
 time he associated constantly with the royal 
 family and government officials, Mr. Judson 
 essayed to return home to Rangoon to watch 
 for the coming of his wife. As he took leave 
 of the king, his majesty protested against 
 his going away and bade him come again 
 and dwell permanently in the golden city. A 
 plot of ground had been given Mr. Judson 
 as a site for a house, and his hopes ran high 
 at the prospect of founding a Christian mis- 
 sion in the capital city of the nation. No 
 tinge of foreboding darkened his thought as 
 he retraced his course down the Irawadi to the 
 port city of Rangoon. 
 
 It was early in February, 1823, when Mr. 
 Judson returned home from Ava; it was ten 
 months later, on the fifth day of December, 
 [150]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 when an English ship was reported at the 
 mouth of the river and after some hours came 
 sailing triumphantly into the broad harbor 
 of Rangoon. The repressed longing of two 
 years' separation breaks its bounds to-day, 
 for, lo, the traveler has returned from her 
 long, long journey! It is verily Ann Hassel- 
 tine who has come back, not the Mrs. Judson 
 who went away, frail and careworn, but the 
 girl of olden days, with her fresh color, health, 
 and beauty. What a traveler she has been, 
 skirting the edge of four continents, com- 
 passing boundless leagues of ocean, circum- 
 navigating hemispheres, and now safe and 
 sound in the Burmese city from which she 
 set forth two years and four months ago I 
 Yes, she has actually reached the home which 
 lay always " at the end of her dream," but 
 not, alas, to settle down in the mission house 
 as hitherto, but to travel on, on to the chief 
 city of the empire, where dwells the all- 
 powerful, capricious king. Ava, the golden 
 city, what is there in your simple name to 
 suggest unbridled cruelty and despotism for 
 all those who forfeit the favor of your 
 haughty monarch? 
 
 [151]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 Unwitting of danger, the husband and 
 wife, accompanied by a few Burmese con- 
 verts, set out for the new mission in the royal 
 city. Mr. and Mrs. Hough, who had re- 
 turned from Bengal during Mrs. Judson's 
 absence, together with the newcomers, Mr. 
 and Mrs. Wade, formed a force of workers 
 sufficient to care for the mission in Rangoon. 
 Mr. and Mrs. Judson, the intrepid pioneers, 
 must press on to claim another heathen city 
 for the one true God. 
 
 For six weeks in January and February, 
 1824, their little boat pushed its way against 
 the wind up stream toward Ava. Often in 
 the tortuous course of the river they walked 
 through the wayside villages and overtook 
 their snail-like conveyance. A foreign 
 woman had never been seen in these inland 
 towns, and great was the excitement when 
 Mrs. Judson appeared. Friends and rela- 
 tives were notified of her approach that none 
 might miss the extraordinary sight. 
 
 Within one hundred miles of Ava the 
 travelers were confronted by a spectacle in- 
 tended to strike wonder and terror into the 
 hearts of beholders. The famous Burmese 
 [152]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 general, Bandoola, with his army, was mak- 
 ing his pompous journey to the coast, con- 
 fidently expecting to fight and conquer the 
 armies of Britain. His golden barge, sur- 
 rounded by a fleet of golden war boats, met 
 the humble little craft containing the mis- 
 sionaries and promptly challenged their right 
 to proceed. When informed that the trav- 
 elers were not English people, but Ameri- 
 cans going to Ava at the express command 
 of the king, they permitted them to go on 
 their way unmolested. From now on, how- 
 ever, the missionaries knew that war was a 
 menacing probability and that at any mo- 
 ment they might be plunged into its grim 
 realities. 
 
 A few days before they reached Ava, Dr. 
 Price, who had heard of their approach, 
 came in a small boat to meet them. It was 
 a somewhat sorry tale he had to tell, dampen- 
 ing to their expectations of a welcome in the 
 royal city. The tide of popularity had 
 seemed to turn against the foreign residents 
 of Ava. The old privy councilors of the 
 king had been dismissed and their places 
 filled by new officials who neither knew nor 
 
 [153]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 cared for the American teachers. Thus Mr. 
 Judson foresaw that he had little to expect 
 for the mission he and Dr. Price planned to 
 establish. 
 
 Upon arrival in the city, prospects were 
 no less doleful. No house opened its door 
 to receive them except Dr. Price's, which was 
 unfinished and so unsavory with dampness 
 that Mrs. Judson, after a few hours' stay, 
 was thrown into a fever. There was no 
 alternative hut to abide in the boat until a 
 shelter of some sort could be erected upon 
 the plot of ground given by the king to Mr. 
 Judson on his former visit. Mrs. Judson 
 could hardly credit her senses when, in ex- 
 actly two weeks after their arrival, they 
 moved their belongings into a comfortable 
 house of three rooms and a veranda, actually 
 built and completed in that incredibly short 
 time I 
 
 Therein, despite meager encouragement 
 from the royal palace, they began to hold 
 services every evening, which a number of 
 Burmese attended. It was a decided ad- 
 vantage to be able to speak the language 
 with such ease as these two foreigners 
 [154]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 had acquired. Every Sundaj' Mr. Judson 
 preached to an audience varying in number 
 from twelve to twenty who assembled at Dr. 
 Price's house across the river. Mrs. Judson 
 opened a school for girls, consisting origi- 
 nally of three small pupils, two of them 
 being sisters whom their father had given to 
 Mrs. Judson to educate. She named them 
 for her own sisters, Mary and Abby Hassel- 
 tine and planned to support one of them 
 with the money which the " Judson Asso- 
 ciation of Bradford Academy " had agreed 
 to contribute. In a spirit of quiet depend- 
 ence upon God the missionaries applied 
 themselves to their tasks, conscious, neverthe- 
 less, that trouble was brewing every day. 
 
 Mr. Judson went two or three times to the 
 royal palace, according to his former habit, 
 but the king scarcely deigned to notice him. 
 The queen, who had previously expressed a 
 strong desire to see the teacher's wife in her 
 foreign dress, now made no inquiries nor ex- 
 pressed a wish for her presence. Conse- 
 quently Mrs. Judson did not attempt to 
 visit the palace although she was invited al- 
 most every day to call upon members of the 
 
 [155]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 royal family living outside the palace en- 
 closure. The only course of procedure 
 seemed to be to carry out their original in- 
 tentions as unobtrusively as possible, seeking 
 at every step to give evidence that they had 
 nothing to do with the war. 
 
 Still, suspicion seemed to rest ominously 
 upon the foreigners who dwelt at Ava. Af- 
 ter the king and queen took formal possession 
 of the new palace just completed, an order 
 was issued that, with one exception, no for- 
 eigner should be allowed to enter its pre- 
 cincts. This mysterious command was some- 
 what disconcerting, but for two or three weeks 
 no alarming event occurred, and preparations 
 were steadily made for the new brick house 
 which was to shelter the Judson family from 
 the blistering heat of the tropics. 
 
 On Sunday, the 23rd of May, the little 
 group of Christians gathered as usual for 
 worship at Dr. Price's house, when, at the 
 close of service, a messenger appeared at the 
 door with an exciting announcement. Ran- 
 goon had been captured by the British army! 
 War was a vivid reality now, and the for- 
 eigners in Ava must face its uncertain issues. 
 [156]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 Mr. Gouger, a young English merchant re- 
 siding in Ava, was in the company of the 
 missionaries when the news arrived, and for 
 his safety they feared more exceedingly than 
 for their own. As Americans, they fervently 
 hoped they would not be entangled in the 
 affairs of war. Yet one and all repaired 
 to the Judsons' house in the city to consult. 
 Mr. Gouger made haste to interview the 
 prince who was the king's most influential 
 brother. His reply was, that his majesty 
 had definitely stated that " the few foreigners 
 residing in Ava had nothing to do with the 
 war and should not be molested." Even with 
 this assurance apprehension was not wholly 
 allayed. 
 
 The cause of the war was that ill-fated 
 country, ill-fated at least to the Judsons, 
 known as Chittagong. This region was 
 under British rule, and Burmese subjects 
 often took refuge there from the despotism 
 of their own government. The king of 
 Burma demanded that his subjects should 
 be arrested by British officers and returned 
 to his authority. Furthermore, the Burmans 
 resented the flag of Great Britain in a 
 
 [157]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 country which they felt belonged logically to 
 their own nation. Consequently they made 
 audacious advances into British territory 
 and every attempt on the part of that gov- 
 ernment for redress was met by indifference, 
 and finally by active preparations for war. 
 So monstrous was the daring of this un- 
 civilized nation that they even proposed to 
 invade Bengal itself. It was rumored that 
 Bandoola's army carried a pair of golden 
 fetters destined to be worn by the Governor- 
 general of India when he should be led cap- 
 tive to the " golden feet " of Burma's mon- 
 arch. The military pride of Great Britain 
 would endure this insolence no longer, and 
 in May, 1824, an army of six thousand men 
 under the command of Sir Archibald Camp- 
 bell was dispatched to Rangoon. So totally 
 unexpected was this attack that little or no 
 resistance was made and Rangoon fell 
 promptly into the hands of the enemy. 
 
 When the news of the fall of Rangoon 
 reached the royal city, almost gleeful prep- 
 arations were made for speedy retaliation. 
 Never a doubt was harbored of the possibility 
 of victory, the king's only fear being that 
 [158]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 the British would be so overwhelmed with 
 terror at the approach of the Burmese troops 
 that they would flee away in their ships be- 
 fore they could be captured as slaves. " Bring 
 me," said the wife of a high official, " four 
 white strangers to manage the affairs of my 
 house, as I understand they are trusty serv- 
 ants." In three or four days an army of 
 ten thousand men was enlisted and sent on 
 its way down the river toward Rangoon. As 
 the war boats passed the Judsons' house on 
 the river bank, the soldiers were dancing, 
 singing, and gesticulating in high glee. 
 " Poor fellows," said those who knew the 
 prowess of the greatest military nation on 
 earth, " you will probably never dance again." 
 As soon as the army had departed from 
 the city, the government officials began to 
 ask why the English soldiers had attacked 
 Rangoon. There must be spies in the coun- 
 try who have invited them, was the insidious 
 suggestion, instantaneously adopted. " And 
 who so likely to be spies as the English- 
 men residing in Ava?" A rumor was circu- 
 lated that Captain Laird, recently arrived, had 
 brought papers from Bengal which stated the 
 
 [159]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 purpose of the English to take Rangoon. 
 The three Englishmen, Mr. Gouger, Captain 
 Laird, and Mr. Rogers, were summoned for 
 examination, and were kept in confinement 
 though not in prison. Mr. and Mrs. Judson 
 began to tremble for their own safety and 
 were in daily dread of some direful event. 
 Soon the day came when Mr. Judson and 
 Dr. Price were commanded to appear at the 
 court of inquiry. Had they ever sent in- 
 formation to foreigners about the condition 
 of affairs in Burma? They replied that they 
 had always written to their friends in 
 America, but that they had no correspond- 
 ence whatsoever with British officers. After 
 their examination was over they were not 
 put in confinement as were the English- 
 men, but were allowed to return to their 
 homes. 
 
 Upon inspecting the accounts of Mr. Gou- 
 ger, the Burmese officials came upon evidence 
 which to their minds fully incriminated the 
 American missionaries. As it was the cus- 
 tom of the Americans to receive their money 
 by orders on Bengal, there were accordingly 
 entries in Mr. Gouger's book recording pay- 
 [160]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 ments of considerable sums to Dr. Price and 
 Mr. Judson. Knowing nothing of such busi- 
 ness methods, the Burmans concluded that 
 the Americans were in the employ of the 
 English, and were therefore spies. The dis- 
 covery was reported to the king, who, in 
 angry tones, ordered the immediate arrest of 
 the " two teachers." 
 
 On the 8th day of June Mr. and Mrs. 
 Judson were quietly preparing for dinner, 
 when suddenly the door was flung open and 
 a Burmese officer rushed in, holding in his 
 hand the dreaded black book, the sign of 
 doom. Behind him pressed a dozen rough 
 men, among them one of hideous aspect, 
 whose spotted face marked him instantly as 
 a " son of the prison," a jailer and execu- 
 tioner. ' Where is the teacher? " asked the 
 officer's gruff voice. Mr. Judson immediately 
 came forward. ' You are called by the 
 king," said the officer, in the form of speech 
 used when arresting criminals. As soon as 
 the fateful sentence was pronounced, the 
 spotted man seized Mr. Judson, threw him 
 on the floor and proceeded to bind him with 
 the small cord used by the Burmans as an 
 
 [161]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 instrument of torture. " Stay," cried Mrs. 
 Judson, grasping the man's arm, " I will 
 give you money." ' Take her, too," was the 
 officer's brutal rejoinder, " she also is a for- 
 eigner." With one beseeching look Mr. Jud- 
 son entreated them to leave his wife until 
 further orders should be received. 
 
 From that moment the scene was chaos 
 personified. The neighbors gathered in fran- 
 tic curiosity. The masons at work on the 
 new brick house dropped their tools and ran. 
 The little Burmese girls, Mary and Abby, 
 screamed in terror. The Bengali servants 
 stood petrified with horror at the insults 
 heaped upon their master. Meanwhile, the 
 spotted-faced executioner, with a kind of 
 fiendish delight, tightened the cords which 
 bound his prisoner. Again Mrs. Judson im- 
 plored him to take the money and loosen the 
 ropes, but he only spurned her offer and 
 dragged her husband away, to what fate she 
 dared not imagine. She gave the money to 
 Moung Ing, one of the Rangoon Christians 
 who had accompanied them to Ava, bidding 
 him follow her husband and try to relieve 
 his suffering. To her distress he came back
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 with the report that when a few rods' distant 
 from the house, the hardened wretches threw 
 their prisoner to the ground and drew the 
 cords still tighter, so that he could scarcely 
 breathe. They marched him to the court- 
 house, related Moung Ing, where the gov- 
 ernor and city officials were assembled. There 
 the king's order was read, consigning Mr. 
 Judson to the death prison, that fatal place 
 from which none ever emerged save by special 
 intervention of the king. 
 
 From the court-house to the prison en- 
 closure Mr. Judson was dragged, and up 
 the high steps to the one dark, filthy room 
 where the hapless prisoners were confined. 
 " Let-ma-yoon " was the name for this cham- 
 ber of horrors, a name so hideously appro- 
 priate that those who knew the Burmese lan- 
 guage shuddered at its mention. " Hand- 
 shrink-not " was its meaning, shrink not 
 from the most revolting cruelties ever de- 
 vised by mortal man or incarnate fiend. 
 
 With the knowledge of her husband's com- 
 mittal to the death prison that June day 
 came to a close, leaving in Mrs. Judson's 
 mind ghastly memories, but apprehensions 
 
 [168]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 yet more horrible. From that night began 
 the extraordinary series of maneuvers for 
 the rescue of her husband and the other for- 
 eign prisoners, which made Ann Hasseltine 
 Judson known in the East and West as the 
 heroine of Ava. 
 
 [16*]
 
 XIII 
 THE HEROINE OF AVA 
 
 THE sunshine of a June afternoon in 
 the tropics beat down upon the little 
 house on the river bank in Ava, 
 where, on the fatal day of the arrest, Mrs. 
 Judson was left alone with her Burmese 
 companions. The first shock of terror was 
 still upon her as she went into an inner room 
 to face the horrible situation into which a 
 few short hours had plunged her. An un- 
 protected foreign woman in the midst of an 
 'alien people whose every impulse was bent 
 upon revenge! Her dearest companion in 
 the world imprisoned and tortured, possibly 
 doomed to death! The tragedy of her situa- 
 tion has scarcely been equaled in human his- 
 tory. In overwhelming grief she cast herself 
 upon the love and mercy of God, imploring 
 strength to endure the sufferings which 
 awaited her. Only infinite goodness could 
 overcome the forces of cruel ignorance let 
 loose in that heathen city. 
 
 Even the comfort of solitude was speedily 
 
 [165]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 denied, for the tramp of feet was heard on 
 the veranda and a gruff voice demanded her 
 appearance. It was the magistrate of the 
 city calling the wife of the foreign prisoner 
 to come forth for examination. Before obey- 
 ing the summons she destroyed every letter, 
 journal, and manuscript in her possession 
 lest their existence should reveal the fact 
 that they had correspondents in England 
 and that they had recorded every happening 
 since arrival in the country. This task of 
 precaution completed, Mrs. Judson presented 
 herself before the Burmese official, who ques- 
 tioned her about every minute matter sup- 
 posed to lie within her knowledge. This or- 
 deal over, he ordered the gate closed, for- 
 bade any one to go in or out, and stationed 
 a band of ruffians on guard, strictly charging 
 them to keep their prisoner safe. With his 
 duties thus pompously discharged the magis- 
 trate strode away. 
 
 The darkness of night fell upon the doomed 
 house, and the gloom of death seemed to lurk 
 in its shadows. Again Mrs. Judson took 
 refuge in the inside room, drawing her little 
 Burmese girls with her, and barring the door 
 [166]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 behind them. Instantly the guard com- 
 manded her to unfasten the door and come 
 out, threatening, if she disobeyed, to break 
 down the house. As persistently as they de- 
 manded, she refused, and tried to frighten 
 them by declaring that she would complain 
 of their conduct to higher authorities. Fi- 
 nally, perceiving that she was determined 
 not to yield, they seized the two Bengali 
 servants and thrust them into the stocks in 
 most painful positions. Their plight was un- 
 bearable to behold, so Mrs. Judson called 
 the head man to the window and promised 
 to give the guard each a present in the morn- 
 ing if they would release her servants. After 
 loud argument and rough threatening, they 
 agreed to the bargain. Their noisy carous- 
 ings and diabolical language, combined with 
 the anxiety which pierced Mrs. Judson's mind 
 like a sword, made this June night a long- 
 drawn horror. Sleep was a far-away phan- 
 tom and the darkness but a covert of terror. 
 At the dawn of a new day Mrs. Judson's 
 first move was to dispatch Moung Ing to 
 the prison to find out her husband's condition 
 and to give him food, if he was still alive. 
 
 [167]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 Moung Ing returned quickly with the news 
 that Mr. Judson and the other foreigners 
 were confined in the death prison, each bound 
 with three pairs of iron fetters and fastened 
 to a long pole to prevent their moving. The 
 climax of agony for Mrs. Judson lay in the 
 fact that she was a prisoner herself, and 
 could make no efforts for their release. 
 Again and again she besought the magistrate 
 for permission to go to some member of 
 government and state her case, but persist- 
 ently he refused, declaring that he dared not 
 allow her to go lest she should make her 
 escape. Foiled in this attempt, she wrote a 
 letter to one of the king's sisters with whom 
 she had been exceedingly friendly, beseech- 
 ing her to exert her influence on behalf of 
 the foreign prisoners. The note was returned 
 with the message, " I do not understand it," 
 which in reality was a polite refusal to inter- 
 fere. Afterwards Mrs. Judson learned that 
 she had been really eager to help but dared 
 not risk the queen's disfavor. 
 
 The day dragged heavily past, and the 
 darkness of another night settled down upon 
 the little household of burdened people. To 
 [168]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 propitiate the guard, Mrs. Judson gave them 
 tea and presents which softened their temper 
 to such an extent that they refrained from 
 molesting her throughout the night. Yet 
 sleep came only in broken snatches, for per- 
 petually before her mind loomed the vision 
 of her husband, bound in iron fetters and 
 stretched upon the prison floor. 
 
 When morning came Mrs. Judson arose, 
 keyed for action. She had at last contrived 
 a way to intercede for the prisoners. A mes- 
 sage was sent to the governor of the city, 
 requesting him to allow her to visit him with 
 a present. This device worked like a charm, 
 for immediately the guard received orders 
 to allow their prisoner to go into the city. 
 The governor welcomed his visitor graciously 
 and inquired kindly what her desire might 
 be. Whereupon Mrs. Judson related the 
 situation of the foreigners, especially the two 
 teachers, her husband and Dr. Price, who, as 
 Americans, had nothing whatsoever to do 
 with the war. The governor answered that 
 it was beyond his power to liberate them, but 
 that he could make them more comfortable in 
 prison. There was his head officer, he said, 
 
 [169]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 indicating an evil looking man, with him she 
 must make terms. The officer led her aside 
 and tried to impress upon her the fact that 
 he was complete master of the situation, and 
 that the future comfort of herself as well as 
 the prisoners depended upon the generosity 
 of her presents to himself, which she must 
 deliver secretly. ' What must I do," said 
 Mrs. Judson, " to obtain a mitigation of the 
 present sufferings of the two teachers?" 
 " Pay to me," said he, " two hundred ticals 
 [about a hundred dollars], two pieces of fine 
 cloth, and two pieces of handkerchiefs." Mrs. 
 Judson had taken a considerable sum of 
 money with her when she left home in the 
 morning, and this she offered to the greedy 
 official, who, after some hesitation, accepted 
 it and promised relief to the tortured pris- 
 oners. 
 
 Her next move was to request the governor 
 for a passport into the prison, which request 
 was granted. But for the ghastly reality 
 which awaited her there the most vivid 
 imagination was scarcely prepared. In her 
 own story of the unhappy days in Ava, Mrs. 
 Judson refused to narrate the heartrending 
 [170]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 scene which took place that day at the prison 
 entrance. Mr. Gouger, who hobbled to the 
 wicket door at the same time, to receive his 
 daily provisions, described many years later 
 the pathetic meeting between the husband 
 and wife. Mr. Judson crawled to the door, 
 as the heavy fetters around his ankles pre- 
 vented his walking. The torture of mind and 
 body which he had endured was stamped 
 upon his face, which was as haggard as if 
 death had already claimed him. His soiled, 
 unkempt condition added to the misery of his 
 appearance. At sight of him, his wife buried 
 her face in her hands, unable to behold the 
 shocking change which two days had wrought. 
 Scarcely had they begun to talk together 
 when the jailers ordered her away. She 
 pleaded the governor's permit, but they re- 
 joined, " Depart, or we will pull you out." 
 Thus she was compelled to turn her weary 
 steps away from the prison and walk the 
 two miles back to her house, her mind freshly 
 tortured by the prison scene, which was in- 
 finitely worse as a memory than as a con- 
 jecture. 
 
 That evening the missionaries, together 
 
 [HI]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 with the other foreigners who had advanced 
 an equal sum of money, were removed from 
 the common prison and confined in an open 
 shed within the prison yard. Here Mrs. 
 Judson was allowed to send them food, and 
 mats upon which to sleep, but for several 
 days entrance was denied her. 
 
 As her mind cast about for other expe- 
 dients, she resolved to send a petition to the 
 queen herself. Mrs. Judson could not go in 
 person to the royal palace, since no one in 
 disgrace with the king was allowed admit- 
 tance. Through the queen's sister-in-law, 
 who in better days had shown her marked 
 favor, she would intercede with her royal 
 highness. Accordingly she chose a valuable 
 gift and appeared in the presence of the Bur- 
 mese noblewoman, who, as she entered, was 
 reclining in Oriental fashion upon a carpet, 
 surrounded by her attendants. Without 
 waiting for the question ' What do you 
 want? " usually addressed to a suppliant, Mrs. 
 Judson told the story of their unhappy plight 
 and implored her assistance. Partly raising 
 her head, she examined the present and re- 
 plied coldly, "Your case is not singular; all 
 [172]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 the foreigners are treated alike." " But it is 
 singular," said Mrs. Judson, " the teachers 
 are Americans; they are ministers of religion, 
 have nothing to do with war or politics, and 
 came to Ava in obedience to the king's com- 
 mand. They have never done anything to 
 deserve such treatment, and is it right they 
 should be treated thus?" 'The king does 
 as he pleases," she replied, " I am not the 
 king; what can I do? " ' You can state their 
 case to the queen and obtain their release," 
 answered Mrs. Judson. " Place yourself in 
 my situation; were you in America, your hus- 
 band innocent of crime, thrown into prison, 
 in irons, and you a solitary, unprotected 
 female, what would you do? " With a slight 
 show of feeling she replied, " I will present 
 your petition; come again to-morrow." This 
 assurance sent Mrs. Judson homeward with 
 the expectation, perhaps unwarranted, that 
 the day of freedom was at hand. 
 
 On the morrow, however, her heart sank 
 within her as she heard the news that Mr. 
 Gouger's property, to the amount of fifty 
 thousand rupees, had been seized and trans- 
 ferred to the palace. The officers, as they 
 
 [173]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 returned from the confiscation, informed 
 Mrs. Judson that they should visit her house 
 the next day. It was a timely warning and 
 she acted upon it by hiding away as much 
 silver and as many precious possessions as she 
 dared. As she thought of the danger in- 
 volved in the act, her mind quivered with fear. 
 If detected, her own imprisonment might be 
 the penalty. On the other hand the measure 
 was imperative, since, if war should be pro- 
 tracted, there would be no way of procuring 
 money, and starvation would be their doom. 
 True to their word, the officers appeared 
 the following morning with an order from 
 the king to seize the property of the mission- 
 aries. A lordly retinue seemed to be re- 
 quired to take away the possessions of a soli- 
 tary foreign woman. The procession which 
 approached the house was led by three Bur- 
 mese noblemen, followed by a band of forty 
 or fifty attendants. The lady whom they 
 had come to dispossess of all she owned, re- 
 ceived her visitors with marked courtesy, 
 offering them chairs, and treating them with 
 tea and sweetmeats. They responded to her 
 courtesy and to the high courage of her 
 [174]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 womanhood by conducting their disagreeable 
 business with more kindliness than Mrs. Jud- 
 son had ever expected to find in a Burmese 
 official. Only the high dignitaries entered 
 the house, the attendants being ordered to 
 wait outside. Perceiving the grief which 
 Mrs. Judson could not conceal, they even 
 apologized for the necessity of their task, 
 which they claimed was painful to them. 
 
 ' Where are )^our silver, gold, and jew- 
 els?" inquired the royal treasurer. "I have 
 no gold or jewels," answered Mrs. Judson, 
 " but here is the key of a trunk which con- 
 tains the silver, do with it as you please." 
 The trunk was opened and the silver weighed. 
 ' This money," interposed Mrs. Judson, 
 " was collected in America by the disciples 
 of Christ, and sent here for the purpose of 
 building a kyoung (a priest's dwelling), and 
 for our support while teaching the religion 
 of Christ. Is it suitable that you should take 
 it?" The Burmese are habitually opposed 
 to the acceptance of money given for religious 
 purposes, hence the shrewdness of Mrs. Jud- 
 son's appeal. ' We will state this circum- 
 stance to the king," replied an officer, " per- 
 
 [175]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 haps he will restore it. But is this all the 
 silver you have?" 'The house is in your 
 possession," she said, evading a direct reply, 
 " search for yourselves." " Have you not 
 deposited silver with some person of your 
 acquaintance?" "My acquaintances are all 
 in prison; with whom should I deposit 
 silver? " 
 
 Examination of Mrs. Judson's trunk and 
 dresser was the next command, and with 
 some nicety of consideration they permitted 
 only one of their number to attend her in 
 this search. Everything which appealed to 
 him as valuable or interesting was submitted 
 to the other officials for decision as to whether 
 it should be taken or left. Mrs. Judson sug- 
 gested the impropriety of taking partly worn 
 clothing into the presence of the king, to 
 which they agreed, and simply made a list 
 of wearing apparel, doing the same with the 
 books and medicine. Two particular treas- 
 ures, a little work-table and a rocking-chair, 
 were recovered from their grasp by a bit of 
 stratagem on Mrs. Judson's part. Many 
 other articles of unspeakable value to her 
 during the months which followed, were left
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 behind when the work of confiscation was 
 completed. Still, it was a ravaged, desolate 
 home from which the officers and their staff 
 departed that June day. 
 
 Scarcely had they disappeared down the 
 road, when Mrs. Judson hastened to the 
 house of the queen's sister-in-law to learn 
 the result of yesterday's appeal. Loss of 
 property was a mere bagatelle compared with 
 her husband's imprisonment. To secure his 
 release was a task which absorbed all her 
 energies and fondest hopes, and, as time 
 went on, exacted a superhuman patience. 
 With hopefulness unrestrained, Mrs. Judson 
 entered the presence of the Burmese noble- 
 woman. " I stated your case to the queen," 
 coolly announced her ladyship, " but her 
 majesty replied, ' The teachers will not die; 
 let them remain as they are/ ' Mrs. Judson's 
 spirits dropped like a meteor from the high 
 region of expectancy into an abyss of dis- 
 appointment. With fatal perception she 
 knew that if the queen refused to help there 
 was no one who would dare to intercede on 
 their behalf. ' Weary and heavy-laden " she 
 turned away and retraced her homeward 
 
 [177]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 course by way of the prison, seeking the 
 solace of a few minutes in her husband's com- 
 pany. At the prison gate she was gruffly 
 denied admittance, and for ten days she was 
 forbidden to enter, despite daily appeal. The 
 husband and wife then resorted to letter- 
 writing, but after a few days the scheme was 
 discovered and their messenger punished by 
 beating and confinement in the stocks. They 
 themselves were fined about ten dollars, be- 
 sides suffering a torment of fear for the pos- 
 sible consequences of their daring. 
 
 On the morning following the seizure of 
 her property Mrs. Judson visited the gov- 
 ernor of the city, there to be met by a vig- 
 orous rebuke. ' You are very bad," said the 
 governor by way of greeting, " why did you 
 tell the royal treasurer that you had given 
 me so much money? " During the process 
 of confiscation the officers had asked Mrs. 
 Judson how much money she had paid the 
 governor and prison officers to secure the 
 removal of the teachers from the inner prison. 
 Naturally she had told the truth in reply, 
 whereupon the officers went straightway to 
 the governor and extorted from him the sum 
 [178]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 stated. He became furiously angry and 
 threatened to replace the teachers in their 
 former condition inside the death prison. To 
 his accusation Mrs. Judson replied naively, 
 * The treasurer inquired; what could I say? " 
 " Say that you had given nothing," retorted 
 the governor, " and I would have made the 
 teachers comfortable in prison; but now I 
 know not what will be their fate." " But I 
 cannot tell a falsehood," asserted Mrs. Jud- 
 son, "my religion is different from yours; it 
 forbids prevarication; and had you stood by 
 me with your knife raised I could not have 
 said what you suggest." At this juncture 
 the governor's wife joined in the conversa- 
 tion. ' Very true ; what else could she have 
 done? I like such straightforward conduct; 
 you must not be angry with her." From that 
 moment the governor's wife became her stead- 
 fast friend. 
 
 At this welcome interruption, Mrs. Judson 
 took opportunity to present to the offended 
 magistrate a beautiful opera glass recently 
 received from England, at the same time 
 begging him not to vent his displeasure upon 
 the innocent prisoners, promising to recom- 
 
 [179]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 pense him from time to time for the loss he 
 had sustained on her account. ' You may 
 intercede for your husband only; for your 
 sake he shall remain where he is; but let the 
 other prisoners take care of themselves." 
 Mrs. Judson pleaded earnestly for Dr. Price, 
 but the governor was immovable. That very 
 day he was returned to the dreadful prison 
 filled with human victims, vermin, heat, and 
 torture. After ten days he was again re- 
 moved to the open shed, by virtue of a prom- 
 ised gift on his part and gifts received from 
 Mrs. Judson. 
 
 From that time on Mrs. Judson's life be- 
 came a perpetual series of maneuvers to se- 
 cure the favor of government officials on be- 
 half of her husband. Scarcely a day passed 
 without a visit to some member of the royal 
 family or government staff, when, with diplo- 
 macy unsurpassed in a woman, she pleaded 
 the cause of the foreign prisoners. To no 
 avail were these daily visitations, save that 
 frequent encouraging promises saved her 
 from despair, and that, among those in high 
 authority, many became her loyal friends 
 who later aided with secret gifts of food and 
 [180]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 tried indirectly to create the impression in 
 the royal palace that the Americans were in 
 no degree responsible for the war. Yet to 
 intercede with the king or queen for repeal 
 of the prison sentence no one had the courage 
 so long as the British troops were continually 
 defeating the armies of Burma. 
 
 Meanwhile, inside the prison enclosure, Mr. 
 Judson and his companions suffered persecu- 
 tions which the intrepid, resourceful wife 
 could in no wise avert. Sometimes they were 
 forbidden to speak to one another or to com- 
 municate with friends outside. Again they 
 would be compelled to pay bribes for the de- 
 livery of their food or for the most trifling 
 favors. At times the use of water was pro- 
 hibited and fresh clothing denied them. Al- 
 ways three pairs of heavy fetters bound their 
 ankles so closely that a shuffle of a few inches 
 was the only possible step. Again and again 
 they sought to close their eyes and ears when 
 some fellow prisoner was tortured with the 
 cord or iron mallet, or led forth at the fatal 
 hour of three in the afternoon for execution. 
 
 Against this black background of horrors 
 Mr. Judson's faith in God was like a shining 
 
 [181]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 star. Often he was heard repeating to him- 
 self the verses of Madame Guy on: 
 
 No place I seek, but to fulfil, 
 
 In life and death, Thy lovely will; 
 
 No succor in my woes I want, 
 
 Except what Thou art pleased to grant." 
 
 Many a time he expressed his belief in the 
 beneficial outcome of the war: "Here have 
 I been," said he, " ten years preaching the 
 gospel to timid listeners who wished to em- 
 brace the truth but dared not; beseeching 
 the emperor to grant liberty of conscience 
 to his people, but without success; and now, 
 when all human means seemed at an end, 
 God opens the way by leading a Christian 
 nation to subdue the country. It is possible 
 that my life may be spared, if so, with what 
 ardor and gratitude shall I pursue my work; 
 and if not, his will be done; the door will be 
 opened for others who will do the work bet- 
 ter." Thus spoke another " ambassador in 
 chains," with the same ring in his voice, the 
 same thrill in his soul as was heard eighteen 
 hundred years before in the Roman prison 
 where Saint Paul, the first foreign mission- 
 ary, was held in captivity. 
 [182]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 Not satisfied with tormenting their imme- 
 diate victims, the prison officials spent the 
 remnant of their ill temper upon Mrs. Jud- 
 son. For days in succession they forbade her 
 to enter the prison until darkness fell, after 
 which she would be compelled to walk two 
 miles through the city streets to reach home. 
 " O, how many, many times," she wrote later 
 to her brother-in-law, " have I returned from 
 that dreary prison at nine o'clock at night, 
 solitary, and worn out with fatigue and 
 anxiety, and thrown myself down in that 
 same rocking-chair which you and Deacon L. 
 provided for me in Boston, and endeavored 
 to invent some new scheme for the release 
 of the prisoners. Sometimes, for a moment 
 or two, my thoughts would glance toward 
 America, and my beloved friends there; but 
 for nearly a year and a half, so entirely en- 
 grossed was every thought with present 
 scenes and sufferings, that I seldom reflected 
 on a single occurrence of my former life or 
 recollected that I had a friend in existence 
 out of Ava." 
 
 To Mrs. Judson the foreign prisoners owed 
 everything that made prison life tolerable. 
 
 [183]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 Her husband was entirely dependent upon 
 her for food and clothing, and often her re- 
 sources were taxed to the utmost for a suffi- 
 cient supply. For weeks at a time the only 
 food she could procure was rice savored with 
 ngapee, a preparation of fish, not altogether 
 appetizing. One day she contrived a big 
 surprise for her husband, and sent it by 
 Moung Ing to the prison. It was actually 
 a New England mince pie manufactured by 
 much ingenuity and perseverance out of 
 buffalo beef and plantains! The simple little 
 act of devotion touched the imprisoned man 
 to the quick. He had seen his wife standing 
 like a queen at the prison gate; he had heard 
 how she walked through the streets of Ava 
 protected by an almost enchanted dignity, 
 how her matchless courage won the hearts of 
 jailers and nobles alike. Almost could he 
 thank God for trials which had caused the 
 glory of her womanhood to shine with such 
 luster. But this little touch of home was too 
 much. He bowed his head upon his knees 
 and the tears rolled down upon the iron fet- 
 ters which bound his ankles. 
 
 Meanwhile the war was pushed with energy 
 [184]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 and determination despite continual defeat. 
 Bandoola alone had contrived to vanquish the 
 British army, and, in recognition of his 
 prowess, was recalled to Ava to be given com- 
 mand of the army sent to Rangoon. While 
 in the city he was absolute master of affairs, 
 honored beyond the king himself. To this 
 popular favorite Mrs. Judson resolved to ap- 
 peal for the release of the imprisoned mis- 
 sionaries. Government officials warned her 
 that it was a foolhardy act, but it was her 
 last resort, and she could not forbear the at- 
 tempt. In secret Mr. Judson wrote a peti- 
 tion and one momentous day Mrs. Judson 
 entered with fear and trembling into the 
 presence of the proud general, surrounded 
 by a crowd of flattering minions. One of 
 his secretaries took the petition from her hand 
 and read it aloud while Bandoola listened at- 
 tentively, and at its finish spoke graciously 
 to his suppliant, bidding her come again for 
 his answer. In a few days she returned, 
 taking with her a valuable present. Ban- 
 doola was not at home to receive her, but he 
 had left a message with his wife which she 
 modestly repeated to Mrs. Judson: " He was 
 
 [185]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 now very busily employed in making prep- 
 arations for Rangoon, but when he had re- 
 taken that place and expelled the British, 
 he would return and release all the prisoners." 
 An empty boast for Bandoola, and an empty 
 hope for Mrs. Judson! 
 
 From that day she gave up the idea of 
 escape from prison until the war should be 
 ended. Yet she must continue those concilia- 
 tory visits to members of the government, lest 
 the prisoners should forfeit the small measure 
 of favor granted them. The governor of the 
 city always gave her friendly welcome; in 
 fact, set apart definite hours every other day 
 when he counted on her coming to talk with 
 him about American customs. He also per- 
 mitted her to erect a little bamboo shelter 
 in the prison yard, where Mr. Judson could 
 stay part of the time by himself, and where 
 she was sometimes allowed at her visits to 
 spend two or three precious hours in his 
 company. 
 
 Thus passed the days of that fatal year, 
 
 one by one, until in January Mrs. Judson 
 
 was seen no more in her usual haunts. Her 
 
 husband, writhing in the fetters which kept 
 
 [186]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 him from going to her help, knew the cause 
 of his wife's absence, which lengthened into 
 weeks. He alone realized the loneliness and 
 privation she was enduring in that uncivilized 
 city, because, in the little house on the river 
 bank, a baby child had come into the broken, 
 suffering lives of its parents. Had it not 
 been for God, who had never failed them 
 even in their bitter affliction, Mr. Judson's 
 agonizing fear for his wife would have passed 
 endurance. God's goodness would yet master 
 this cruel oppression. 
 
 Twenty days after her birth the baby 
 Maria was carried to the prison to greet her 
 father. Long before this time Mrs. Judson 
 had adopted the Burmese dress, believing 
 that the native costume would win the favor 
 of the people. There she stood at the prison 
 door, her brown curls drawn back from her 
 forehead and fastened with a fragrant coco- 
 blossom, her richly colored gown, the gift of 
 the governor's wife, clinging closely about 
 her figure which seemed to gain height and 
 stateliness from the costume designed for 
 women of smaller stature. In contrast to 
 the Oriental hues of her dress, her face was 
 
 [187]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 white and sad, but inexpressibly sweet. In 
 her arms lay the pale, blue-eyed baby, crying 
 as hard as if she understood the scene be- 
 fore her. Mr. Judson crawled forth to meet 
 them, and for the first time took his child in 
 his arms. Afterwards, during the long hours 
 in the prison he composed some twenty-four 
 stanzas addressed to an " Infant Daughter, 
 twenty days old, in the condemned prison 
 at Ava." 
 
 When Maria was two months old, her 
 mother one day received a frightful message 
 from the prison. Mr. Judson and all the for- 
 eigners had been cast into the inner prison 
 and bound with five pairs of fetters. His 
 little bamboo room had been torn down, and 
 mat, pillow, and other possessions seized by 
 the jailers. The defeat of Bandoola and the 
 annihilation of his army, together with the 
 advance of the British forces toward Ava, 
 had been the cause of these vindictive meas- 
 ures against the foreign prisoners. 
 
 Mrs. Judson set forth at once for the 
 governor's house to see what could be done. 
 The governor was not at home, but, antici- 
 pating her visit, had left a message with his 
 [188]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 wife bidding her not to ask to have the extra 
 fetters removed, nor the prisoners released, 
 for it could not be done. From the govern- 
 or's house she went across to the prison 
 gate but was forbidden to enter. The still- 
 ness of death hung over the prison yard. 
 Not a white face was visible, and not a rem- 
 nant of Mr. Judson's little shelter was left. 
 Behind that closed door lay her husband in 
 the filth and misery of the death prison, and 
 here was she, only a few rods distant, but 
 powerless to reach him or ease his suffering. 
 There was naught to be done but return 
 home and come again at an hour when the 
 governor was sure to be accessible. 
 
 In the evening she traversed again the 
 two miles to the governor's house, which was 
 opposite the prison gate. As she entered the 
 audience room the governor looked up but 
 did not speak, and his face expressed shame 
 and pretended anger combined. Mrs. Jud- 
 son opened the conversation. ' Your lord- 
 ship has hitherto treated us with the kindness 
 of a father. Our obligations to you are very 
 great. We have looked to you for protection 
 from oppression and cruelty. You have 
 
 [189]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 promised me particularly that you would 
 stand by me to the last, and though you 
 should receive an order from the king, you 
 would not put Mr. Judson to death. What 
 crime has he committed to deserve such ad- 
 ditional punishment?" At her words the 
 old man broke down and cried like a child. 
 " I pity you, Tsa-yah-ga-dau," the name by 
 which he always called Mrs. Judson, " I knew 
 you would make me feel; I therefore for- 
 bade your application. But you must be- 
 lieve me when I say I do not wish to increase 
 the sufferings of the prisoners. When I am 
 ordered to execute them, the least that I can 
 do is to put them out of sight. I will now 
 tell you what I have never told you before, 
 that three times I have received intimations 
 from the queen's brother to assassinate all the 
 white prisoners privately, but I would not 
 do it. And I now repeat it, though I ex- 
 ecute all the others, I will never execute your 
 husband. But I cannot release him from 
 his present confinement and you must not 
 ask it." Never before had Mrs. Judson seen 
 the governor display so much feeling nor 
 such firmness in denying her a favor. His 
 [190]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 words and manner aroused her worst fore- 
 bodings for the future. 
 
 Meanwhile the scene within the death 
 prison in Ava was not unlike the hell depicted 
 by Dante and Milton, save that here there 
 were a few brave spirits who " were still in 
 heart and conscience free." The Let-ma- 
 yoon was an old wooden building about forty 
 feet long and thirty feet wide. It had no 
 means of ventilation save crevices between 
 the flimsy boards, no protection from the 
 burning sun save the thin roof. Inside this 
 one room were confined more than a hundred 
 prisoners, men and women, most of them 
 chained or fastened in the stocks. The white 
 prisoners were huddled in a corner, and a 
 bamboo pole was thrust between the chains 
 around their ankles, which at night was 
 hoisted to an angle which left only the 
 shoulders resting upon the ground. Occa- 
 sionally Mrs. Judson was allowed to go to 
 the prison door for five minutes, but mind 
 and heart reeled at the sight of such misery. 
 By dint of repeated appeals she won permis- 
 sion for the foreigners to eat their meals out- 
 side, but even this privilege was short-lived. 
 
 [191]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 After more than a month in this vile place, 
 Mr. Judson was taken sick with fever. His 
 wife perceived that he could not live unless 
 removed to more wholesome quarters. Con- 
 sequently, that she might be near the prison 
 and might the more frequently entreat the 
 governor for mercy, she moved from their 
 house on the river bank to a one-room shelter 
 which the governor permitted her to build 
 on his premises. At last, worn out by her 
 entreaties, he gave her an official order for 
 Mr. Judson's removal, and a permit for her 
 to visit him at any hour to give medicines. 
 Accordingly Mr. Judson exchanged the 
 filthy prison for a little bamboo hovel, so 
 low that they could not stand upright, but, 
 as Mrs. Judson said, " a palace compared 
 with the place he had left." 
 
 Here, one morning after breakfast, Mrs. 
 Judson was lingering with her husband, when 
 suddenly a message was received from the 
 governor bidding her come to him at once. 
 Somewhat alarmed by such unusual summons 
 she hastily obeyed. To her relief the gov- 
 ernor made only some idle queries about his 
 watch and engaged her in affable conversa- 
 [192]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 tion for some time. Unsuspectingly she took 
 her leave and started in the direction of her 
 room, when a servant came running toward 
 her, his face pale with fright. ' The white 
 prisoners have all been carried away," he 
 gasped. Scarcely believing so amazing a 
 report, she hastened back to the governor, 
 who said he had just heard the news but was 
 loath to tell her. 
 
 Distractedly she ran into the street, seeking 
 to get a glimpse of the fugitives this way or 
 that. But they were nowhere in sight. She 
 darted down one street, then another, asking 
 every one she met, but no one would give 
 her an answer. At last an old woman de- 
 clared that the prisoners had gone toward 
 the little river on the way to Amarapoora. 
 Mrs. Judson ran half a mile to the river 
 bank, but no trace of the foreigners. Some 
 friendly persons hurried to the place of ex- 
 ecution, but lo, they were not there! Again 
 she resorted to the governor for help, but 
 he could only promise to dispatch a servant 
 to discover their fate. ' You can do nothing 
 more for your husband," he said with slow 
 emphasis, " take care of yourself." With 
 
 [193]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 the governor's warning ringing in her ears 
 she looked across to the desolate prison whose 
 silent walls gave no answer to her restless 
 question, Where, where are the foreign 
 prisoners? 
 
 [194]
 
 XIV 
 
 PRISONERS IN A HEATHEN 
 VILLAGE 
 
 AURMESE cart is at best a bungling 
 contrivance for speed or comfort. 
 Its wheels are simply round pieces 
 of timber with holes in the center, through 
 which a pole is passed to support the body 
 of the conveyance. Springs and cushions 
 are luxuries unknown. Through the sand 
 and gravel of the hot season, and the fathom- 
 less mud of the rainy season, the cart lurches 
 and plunges at the uneven tread of the oxen. 
 One day in May, 1825, a cart of the usual 
 variety bumped and thumped with the usual 
 violence along the hot, dusty highway leading 
 from Ava to Amarapoora. Under its shabby 
 cover sat a motley group of travelers, two 
 little Burmese girls, a Bengali servant, and 
 an American woman with a baby in her arms. 
 From Ava, in the early morning, the little 
 party had set forth, conveyed for a few 
 miles in a covered boat on the " little river," 
 
 [195]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 and then transferred to the stuffy, jolting 
 cart for the remaining two miles. 
 
 At Amarapoora, their expected destina- 
 tion, a disappointment fell upon the band of 
 travelers. The object of their journey was 
 not yet attained, for lo, the prisoners who had 
 yesterday been removed by stealth from the 
 death prison at Ava, were not to be found 
 at Amarapoora. Only two hours before they 
 had been sent on their way to a village four 
 miles beyond. 
 
 Mrs. Judson, the leader of this little search 
 party, or relief expedition, gave orders to 
 proceed, but their cartman stolidly refused 
 to go further. Under the scorching sun of 
 midday she bartered and cajoled for an hour, 
 until another cartman agreed to convey them 
 to Aungbinle, the miserable goal of their 
 journey. Throughout that day of travel 
 Mrs. Judson held the baby Maria in her arms 
 with no relaxation of tired muscles and 
 nerves. 
 
 In the late afternoon, the village of Aung- 
 binle was reached and the prison, the central 
 place of interest, sought with haste. It was 
 an old, tumble-down building in the last 
 [196]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 stages of dilapidation. Some workmen were 
 on the top trying to manufacture a roof of 
 leaves. While their abode was thus being 
 prepared, the prisoners huddled together 
 under a low projection outside, chained two 
 and two and nearly dead with the immense 
 discomfort of the journey. 
 
 There Mrs. Judson found her husband, a 
 ghost of his former self, even his prison self. 
 He gathered strength to say, " Why have 
 you come? I hoped you would not follow, 
 for you cannot live here." 
 
 Darkness was falling and Mrs. Judson 
 had no shelter for the night. Might she put 
 up a little bamboo house near the prison, she 
 asked the jailer? "No," he answered, "it 
 is not customary." Would he then find her 
 a place where she might spend the night? He 
 led her to his own house, which consisted of 
 two small rooms one of which he placed at 
 her disposal. It was a poor little place, half 
 filled with grain and accumulated dirt, yet 
 it harbored Mrs. Judson and her children 
 not for one night only but for a long succes- 
 sion of nights and days. Some half-boiled 
 water stayed her thirst and hunger that first 
 
 [197]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 night, when upon a mat spread over the 
 grain she and her baby dropped in utter 
 exhaustion. 
 
 In the morning she listened to the mourn- 
 ful tale her husband had to tell of the march 
 of the prisoners from Ava to Aungbinle. 
 Scarcely had she left the prison yard at 
 Ava two days ago so the story ran when 
 a jailer rushed in, seized Mr. Judson by the 
 arm, stripped off his clothing, except shirt 
 and pantaloons, tore off his fetters, tied a 
 rope around his waist and dragged him to 
 the court-house, where he found the other for- 
 eign prisoners already assembled in a discon- 
 solate group. As soon as he arrived they 
 were tied together two by two and the ropes 
 given like reins into the hands of slaves who 
 were to be their drivers. The lamine-woon, 
 the officer in charge, mounted his horse and 
 gave orders for the procession to start. 
 
 It was then eleven o'clock in the day, in 
 the month of May, one of the hottest months 
 of the year. Hats and shoes had been seized 
 by the jailers, so there was no protection 
 from the direct rays of the sun above or the 
 sun-baked earth beneath. They had pro- 
 [198]
 
 A Burmese Cart
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 ceeded about half a mile when Mr. Judson's 
 feet became blistered and his fevered body 
 so exhausted that, as they crossed the " little 
 river," he would gladly have thrown himself 
 into its cool waters and escaped his misery 
 forever. But quickly he dispelled the thought 
 as cowardice unworthy a Christian man. 
 They had still eight miles to travel! 
 
 Before long the prisoners' bare feet became 
 entirely destitute of skin. Every step was 
 like treading upon burning coals, yet their 
 brutal keepers goaded them on without 
 mercy. When about half way they stopped 
 for water and Mr. Judson piteously begged 
 the lamine-woon to allow him to ride his 
 horse a mile or two as it seemed as if he 
 could not take another step. A scathing, 
 contemptuous look was the only reply he 
 received. He then asked Captain Laird, with 
 whom he was tied, and who was a robust 
 man, if he might lean upon his shoulder as 
 he walked. Captain Laird consented, and so 
 long as his strength lasted, supported his 
 fellow traveler as they toiled along together. 
 Just as the limit of endurance was reached, 
 a Bengali servant of Mr. Gouger's joined 
 
 [199]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 the ranks, and perceiving Mr. Judson's 
 agony, tore off his Indian head-dress made 
 of cloth and gave half to his master and half 
 to Mr. Judson. It was the work of a few 
 seconds to wrap the cloth around the bruised 
 feet and resume the march which must not 
 be halted for sick or wounded prisoners. 
 The Bengali then walked by Mr. Judson's 
 side and almost carried him the rest of the 
 w r ay. Had it not been for his timely help 
 Mr. Judson would probably have met the 
 fate of their Greek fellow-prisoner who fell 
 by the way, was beaten and dragged until 
 his drivers were themselves weary, then car- 
 ried in a cart to Amarapoora, where he died 
 an hour after his arrival. 
 
 At Amarapoora the lamine-woon reluc- 
 tantly decided to encamp for the night, realiz- 
 ing that his prisoners would perish on the 
 way if forced to go on to Aungbinle that 
 day. An old shed was secured for their rest- 
 ing-place, but what mockery was it of the 
 word when none of the necessities of the 
 night were provided to ease their dreadful 
 fatigue! Moved by feminine curiosity the 
 wife of the lamine-woon came to look upon 
 [200]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 the foreign prisoners, and something more 
 than curiosity stirred within her at the sight. 
 She went away and ordered fruit, sugar, and 
 tamarinds for their supper, and rice for their 
 breakfast, which was the only food supply 
 granted the famished men on their journey. 
 
 In the morning no member of the battered 
 regiment was able to walk, and carts were 
 furnished for their transfer to Aungbinle. 
 As they neared the journey's end, they spent 
 their small residue of strength surmising the 
 fate which was to befall them. Upon sight 
 of the dilapidated prison they concluded with 
 one accord that they were to be burned to 
 death, just as the rumor circulated at Ava 
 had predicted. They were endeavoring to 
 fortify their souls for this awful doom when 
 a band of workmen appeared and began re- 
 pairing the prison. It was about this time 
 that Mrs. Judson came to the end of her 
 toilsome journey in the prison yard at 
 Aungbinle. 
 
 Life in this uncivilized inland village 
 marked a new stage in the suffering career 
 of Mrs. Judson. It was now a fight for 
 mere existence, for the bare necessities which 
 
 [201]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 hold body and soul together. The village 
 boasted no market for food supplies and 
 scarcely a roof to cover the homeless stranger. 
 With her husband chained in the prison, her 
 three-months-old baby dependent upon her 
 for the very breath of life, two Burmese 
 children clamoring for food and raiment, and 
 a forlorn little heathen village as a back- 
 ground, PROBLEM would hardly spell Mrs. 
 Judson's predicament. 
 
 The first of the new series of tragic ad- 
 ventures befell the Judson family the next 
 day after their arrival in Aungbinle. Small- 
 pox entered their household and fastened 
 itself upon Mary Hasseltine, one of the Bur- 
 mese girls whom they had adopted. Child 
 though she was, Mary had been Mrs. Jud- 
 son's only helper in the care of the baby 
 Maria. Now the overtaxed mother must 
 divide her time between the sick child at home 
 and the sick husband in prison, who was still 
 suffering from fever and his sorely-mangled 
 feet. From dawn to dark Mrs. Judson went 
 from the house to the prison, from the prison 
 to the house, back and forth, the baby borne 
 always in her arms. Though she contracted 
 [202]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 a mild form of smallpox herself, she still 
 continued her round of ministrations, serving 
 not only her own family, but the entire com- 
 munity as well, since every child, young and 
 old, who had never had smallpox was brought 
 to her for vaccination! She had experi- 
 mented upon the jailer's children with such 
 success that her fame spread through the 
 village. The foreign lady evidently pos- 
 sessed some charm whereby to ward off or 
 lighten disease. 
 
 Gradually her patients recovered and the 
 prisoners were established in more comfort- 
 able condition than in the death prison at 
 Ava, being bound with one pair of fetters 
 in lieu of three and five. But for Mrs. Jud- 
 son the limit of physical endurance was 
 reached. She had spent her strength for 
 others' needs until there was none left to 
 her credit and a miserable tropical disease 
 took possession of her worn body. She be- 
 came so weak that she could barely crawl to 
 the prison. Yet in this pitiable condition 
 she set forth in a Burmese cart to go to Ava 
 in quest of medicines and food. Upon reach- 
 ing the deserted house on the river bank she 
 
 [203]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 was stricken with such a desperate attack that 
 death seemed the only possible outcome, and 
 to die near her husband's prison in Aung- 
 binle, the one remaining desire in life. By 
 taking small doses of laudanum at intervals 
 she succeeded in quelling the disease to such 
 an extent, that though unable to stand, she 
 made the return journey by boat on the river 
 and by cart through the mud to Aungbinle. 
 
 In sickness, home becomes the one charmed 
 spot on earth, but what a home-coming was 
 this! The end of the journey measured the 
 end of endurance. The last vestige of 
 strength vanished and her tremendous power 
 of will was overthrown by the violence of the 
 disease. The Bengali cook, who had been 
 left in charge, came out to help his mistress, 
 but at sight of her he burst into tears, so 
 changed and emaciated had she become in 
 the few days' absence. She stumbled into 
 the little crowded room and dropped upon 
 the mat, where she lay for two months, help- 
 less with pain and weakness. 
 
 During Mrs. Judson's sickness the Ben- 
 gali cook came valiantly to the rescue of the 
 afflicted family. Day after day he provided 
 [204]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 and cooked the food, sometimes walking long 
 distances for fuel and water, oftentimes de- 
 laying his own meal until night-time that his 
 patients' needs might be first supplied. He 
 forgot caste and wages in his anxiety to 
 serve the foreigners whom he loved. To this 
 Hindu servant the Judson family owed the 
 preservation of their lives during those weeks 
 of dire want and misery. 
 
 Upon the youngest of their number fell 
 the sharp edge of their misfortunes. Be- 
 cause of her mother's sickness the baby 
 Maria was deprived of her natural food 
 supply and no milk could be obtained in 
 the village. Night after night the sick 
 mother was compelled to listen to the wails 
 of her child who was crying for food, and 
 there was none to give! By sending presents 
 to the jailers Mrs. Judson won permission 
 for her husband to carry the baby through 
 the village begging a few drops of nourish- 
 ment from those Burmese mothers who had 
 young children. Afterwards, in narrating 
 her experiences to the home people in 
 America, Mrs. Judson wrote: "I now began 
 to think the very afflictions of Job had come 
 
 [205]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 upon me. When in health, I could bear the 
 various trials and vicissitudes through which 
 I was called to pass. But to be confined 
 with sickness and unable to assist those who 
 were so dear to me, when in distress, was 
 almost too much for me to bear, and had it 
 not been for the consolations of religion, and 
 an assured conviction that every additional 
 trial was ordered by infinite love and mercy, 
 I must have sunk under my accumulated 
 sufferings." 
 
 To the stricken band of prisoners there 
 came one day a faint gleam of hope. The 
 pakan-woon had been convicted of high 
 treason to the empire and promptly executed. 
 Now this pakan-woon was the Burmese offi- 
 cer who boldly aspired to take Bandoola's 
 place after his defeat and death. He made 
 fair promises of large pay to the soldiers and 
 guaranties of victory over the British army, 
 so that the king was dazzled by his easy- 
 going assurance and committed all power 
 into his hands. He was the bitter enemy of 
 foreigners and it was during his high-handed 
 reign that the foreign prisoners were removed 
 from Ava to Aungbinle. They now learned 
 [206]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 for a certainty that he had sent them to the 
 remote village for the express purpose of 
 slaughtering them there, and of coming 
 himself to witness the gruesome spectacle. 
 Frequently the news had spread through the 
 prison of his expected arrival, but for what 
 devilish intent no one had suspected. His 
 death brought extension of life and hope to 
 the war captives at Aungbinle. 
 
 It was not until six months had been lived 
 out in the country prison and its environs 
 that hope of escape definitely entered the 
 Judson household. One day in November, 
 1825, a courier came to their door bearing a 
 message from Mrs. Judson's loyal friend, 
 the governor, in Ava. Last night, so the 
 letter read, an edict was issued in the royal 
 palace for Mr. Judson's release from prison. 
 The news was corroborated later in the day 
 by an official order repealing the prison sen- 
 tence. With a joyful heart Mrs. Judson 
 made preparations for departure in the early 
 morning, when, lo, her plans were frustrated 
 by the dastardly conduct of the jailers, who 
 insisted that Mrs. Judson's name was not 
 mentioned in the official document, therefore 
 
 [207]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 they could not permit her to leave the place. 
 " But I was not sent here as a prisoner," 
 she protested, " you have no authority over 
 me." But no, she could not go, and the 
 villagers should not be allowed to provide a 
 cart for her conveyance. At this juncture 
 Mr. Judson was removed from the prison 
 to the jailer's house, where, by threats and 
 persuasions added to gifts of provisions, 
 they agreed to let Mrs. Judson depart with 
 her husband. 
 
 It was noon the next day when the Judson 
 family, accompanied by an official guard, left 
 Aungbinle to return to Ava. At Amara- 
 poora on the way Mr. Judson was detained 
 for examination, and forwarded thence to the 
 court-house at Ava. With her little body- 
 guard of children Mrs. Judson pursued her 
 own course and reached the house on the 
 river bank at dusk. 
 
 In the morning she went in search of her 
 husband and to her dismay found him again 
 in prison, though not the death prison. She 
 hastened to her old friend, the governor, and 
 besought an explanation. He informed her 
 that Mr. Judson had been appointed inter- 
 [208]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 preter for the Biirman army in its negotia- 
 tions with the British and that he was to 
 go straightway to the army camp at Maloun. 
 
 Accordingly, on the morrow Mrs. Judson 
 bade her husband farewell, while he em- 
 barked on the crude little river craft for the 
 passage to Maloun. Upon arrival at camp, 
 he was compelled to enter at once upon his 
 task as interpreter, without so much as an 
 hour to recuperate his lost energy. His stay 
 in camp lasted six weeks and entailed suffer- 
 ings equal to his prison experience, with the 
 difference that chains were subtracted and 
 hard work added. 
 
 Meantime Mrs. Judson drew a breath of 
 relief, supposing that the value of her hus- 
 band's services as interpreter would insure 
 him kind treatment in the Burmese camp. 
 Ignorance of his actual situation was a mercy, 
 for there was no room in her life at this time 
 for the added burden of anxiety. Day by 
 day her power of resistance grew less until 
 she fell prey to that horrible disease, spotted 
 fever. On the very day when she first 
 recognized its fatal symptoms, a Burmese 
 woman came to the door and volunteered her 
 
 [209]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 services as nurse for Maria. This incident 
 was a direct expression of God's watchful 
 care, because repeatedly she had sought to 
 find a nurse for the baby and failed. Now 
 in her exigency the help came without solici- 
 tation. 
 
 Once given entrance, the fever ran its 
 course with violence. At the outset Mrs. 
 Judson measured her weakness against its 
 virulence and concluded it must be a losing 
 fight. As the disease developed she tried 
 to think how she could provide for little 
 Maria in the event of her death and decided 
 to commit her to the care of a Portuguese 
 woman. As her mind was grappling with 
 this painful question, reason failed, and trials 
 and tribulations were swept into a whirl of 
 delirium. 
 
 At this crucial moment Dr. Price was re- 
 leased from prison and hastened to her bed- 
 side. Had the doctor's coming been delayed 
 a few hours she would probably have passed 
 beyond human aid. In fact, the Burmese 
 neighbors, in their childish curiosity, had al- 
 ready crowded into the house to look with 
 wondering eyes upon the solemn spectacle 
 [210]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 of death. " She is dead," they said in awe- 
 stricken tones, " and if the king of angels 
 should come in he could not save her." 
 
 Yet Dr. Price bent all his energies to the 
 task of restoring the life which was being 
 given in vicarious sacrifice for the Burmese 
 people, though they knew it not. Vigorous 
 measures were prescribed; her head was 
 shaved and blisters applied to head and feet; 
 the Bengali servant was ordered to press 
 upon her the nourishment she had refused 
 for days. As consciousness gradually re- 
 turned, after days of delirium, her first real- 
 ization was of this faithful servant standing 
 by her bedside urging her to take a little 
 wine and water. 
 
 By microscopic degrees, health, or its 
 semblance, came again to the life shattered 
 by anxiety, privation, and disease. One day 
 during the slow convalescence, while she was 
 still too weak to stand upon her feet, a mes- 
 sage was brought to the sick room which left 
 a panic of joy and fear in its train. Mr. 
 Judson had been_sent back to Ava and was 
 under detention at the court-house. What was 
 to be his fate the messenger could not say!
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 During the night Mr. Judson had entered 
 the city and had traversed the very street 
 which passed his own door! A feeble little 
 light glimmered within telling him the house 
 was not unoccupied. But what unknown and 
 fearful events might have taken place in 
 those six weeks of absence! Oh, for one look 
 behind that closed door! He begged, bribed, 
 cajoled, and threatened the jailers who con- 
 stituted his guard, but to no avail. They 
 pleaded the official command to deliver their 
 prisoner without delay at the court-house, 
 which command they dared not disobey. 
 Consequently, Mr. Judson finished the night 
 in an outbuilding near the court-house, specu- 
 lating anxiously as to his probable fate. On 
 the river journey to Maloun he had chanced 
 to see the official communication which ac- 
 companied him to Ava, " We have no further 
 use for Yoodthan," the message read, " we 
 therefore return him to the golden city." 
 What new task would the " golden city " ex- 
 act of its foreign captive before the price of 
 liberty should be fully paid? 
 
 On the morrow Mr. Judson was summoned 
 before the court session and hurriedly ex-
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 amined. Not one of his acquaintances was 
 present at court that morning to identify him 
 and explain the curt message forwarded from 
 Maloun. " From what place was he sent to 
 Maloun?" inquired the presiding officer. 
 " From Aungbinle," was the reply. " Let 
 him then be returned thither," was the care- 
 less verdict. The case was thus summarily 
 disposed of, and the plaintiff dispatched to 
 an out-of-the-way shed, serving as temporary 
 prison, to await removal to Aungbinle. In 
 these obscure quarters he spent a restless, 
 tantalizing day. Here he was in the same 
 city with his wife and child, separated only 
 by a few minutes' distance, yet powerless to 
 go to them or to hear one word of intelli- 
 gence concerning them. Tantalus, parched 
 with thirst and standing forever in the water 
 he could not reach, was in no worse predica- 
 ment. 
 
 Toward night Moung Ing came to his re- 
 lief, having searched in vain for him through- 
 out the day. At intervals this faithful Bur- 
 mese had returned to the house to report his 
 fruitless quest to the waiting wife. For her, 
 too, the day had been almost insupportable. 
 
 [213]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 The " last straw " had been Moung Ing's dis- 
 covery that her husband was ordered back to 
 Aungbinle. She could scarcely breathe after 
 the shock of these tidings. If ever in her life 
 Mrs. Judson felt the potency of prayer it 
 was on that dreadful day. " I could not rise 
 from my couch," she afterwards wrote, " I 
 could make no efforts to secure my husband; 
 I could only plead with that great and pow- 
 erful Being who has said, ' Call upon me in 
 the day of trouble, and I will hear, and thou 
 shalt glorify me,' and who made me at this 
 time feel so powerfully this promise that I 
 became quite composed, feeling assured that 
 my prayers would be answered." 
 
 It was in this desperate situation that Mrs. 
 Judson resolved to appeal once again to the 
 governor, who had so many times befriended 
 them. " Entreat him," she instructed Moung 
 Ing, " to make one more effort for the release 
 of Mr. Judson, and to prevent his being sent 
 to the country prison," where, she thought 
 wistfully, " I cannot follow and he must 
 needs suffer much." 
 
 For the last time the friendly governor 
 came to the relief of the foreign lady who 
 [214]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 had so fully captured his homage. He sent 
 a petition to the high court of the empire, 
 offered himself as security for Mr. Judson 
 and won his release. Early the next morn- 
 ing Mr. Judson was summoned to the gov- 
 ernor's house, there to receive the prize that 
 is beyond rubies, his freedom. With a step 
 more rapid, a heart more hopeful, than for 
 two years past, he hurried through the streets 
 of Ava to his own home. 
 
 The door of his house stood open as he 
 approached, and, unobserved by any one, he 
 entered. There, crouching in the ashes be- 
 fore a pan of coals sat a grimy, half-clothed 
 Burmese woman, holding in her arms a puny, 
 puny baby so covered with dirt that never 
 for a moment did Mr. Judson dream it could 
 be his own child. He crossed the threshold 
 into the next room, where, lying across the 
 foot of the bed, as if she had fallen there, 
 was the figure of a woman. Her face was 
 white, her features drawn and sharp, and 
 her whole form shrunken and emaciated. 
 Her brown curls had been cut off and an old 
 cotton cap covered her head. Everything in 
 the room spoke of neglect and ignorance in 
 
 [215]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 keeping with the face of the Burmese nurse 
 who held the baby before the fire. In these 
 squalid surroundings lay the beautiful, high- 
 spirited woman who for fourteen years had 
 never once " counted her life dear unto her- 
 self " if only she might follow the companion 
 of her heart in his high path of service for 
 God and man. " In journey ings often, in 
 perils in the city, in perils in the wilderness, 
 in perils in the sea, in perils among false 
 brethren; in labor and travail, in watchings 
 often, in hunger and thirst, in fastings often, 
 in cold and nakedness; besides those things 
 that are without " daily anxiety for the little 
 struggling Burmese church, thus ran the 
 course of their Christlike sacrifice. 
 
 It may have been a tear which glanced her 
 cheek, or a breath which came too near, or 
 the sense of a dear, familiar presence more 
 palpable than touch, for Ann Judson stirred 
 uneasily in her sleep and opened her brown 
 eyes to look into her husband's face. 
 
 [216]
 
 XV 
 
 THE BRITISH CAMP 
 
 UNDER the tropical moonlight which 
 cast a shimmer of gold upon the 
 dark waters of the Irawadi, a 
 wounded British officer kept lonely vigil. 
 He had been traitorously attacked by the 
 Burmese boatmen who manned his canoe, 
 robbed of his possessions, sorely injured in 
 the fray, and abandoned to his fate upon the 
 deserted shore. For long, restless hours he 
 watched for the passage of a friendly craft 
 up or down stream. 
 
 As moonlight faded into daylight, a large 
 rowboat, escorted by half a dozen golden 
 boats, was seen approaching from the direc- 
 tion of Ava. The wounded man waved a 
 signal of distress, which was instantly heeded 
 by the passing flotilla. A skiff was sent 
 skimming over the water to his rescue, and 
 as if by magic he found himself on the deck 
 of a commodious rowboat, where the welcome 
 accorded him was more wondrous than ma- 
 gician's art. Had thoughts of home woven 
 
 [217]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 a spell about his senses, or was he in solid 
 reality looking into the face of a woman of 
 his own race, the first white woman he had 
 seen for more than a year in his military 
 exile in Burma? She stood on the little deck 
 leaning upon the arm of a worn, scholarly- 
 looking man, evidently her husband. She 
 herself was almost unearthly in her ethereal 
 beauty, while her gentle speech fell upon his 
 ear like " a household hymn of his youth." 
 His wounds were dressed and his head band- 
 aged by a hand which had caught the art of 
 deft and tender touch. 
 
 For two days, as the phalanx of boats 
 glided slowly down the river toward the 
 British camp, the wounded lieutenant dis- 
 coursed with his new friends, reveling in the 
 sense of home their companionship afforded 
 him. In the daytime warmth and the cool 
 of moonlight evenings they sat on deck re- 
 counting experiences, novel, thrilling, and sad, 
 which had been lived out in the heathen land 
 of their exile. Mrs. Judson, for she it was, 
 sat in a large, swinging chair, in which her 
 slight, graceful form seemed like a spirit 
 scarcely touching this material world. At 
 [218]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 her feet lay the baby Maria, a poor little 
 delicate baby, whose very frailty drew out the 
 mother's fondest love. At her side sat her 
 husband, watching with tender solicitude the 
 play of her sensitive face as she talked. The 
 British lieutenant, man of action that he was, 
 listened spellbound to the vivid charm of her 
 speech, made doubly eloquent in the presence 
 of the tragic experiences of the last two 
 years, revealing at once her sweetness of 
 spirit and the alert vigor of her mind. 
 
 As the time came to part with the two 
 people who had touched his life so briefly 
 yet so indelibly, the army officer lingered 
 wistfully, reluctant to pass out of their 
 presence. As he looked for the last time 
 into Mrs. Judson's face, while she was giving 
 directions in Burmese to his new boatmen, 
 tears gathered in his eyes, for with prophetic 
 insight the British lieutenant foresaw that so 
 delicate a spirit could not long remain in 
 this human world. 
 
 For Mr. and Mrs. Judson the trip down 
 the Irawadi in that month of March, 1826, 
 was like a foretaste of heaven. Many years 
 after the events recorded in these chapters, 
 
 [219]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 Adoniram Judson was in the midst of a 
 group of people who were discussing a 
 mooted question. What was the keenest 
 pleasure ever experienced by mortal man 
 since the world began? Some cited one in- 
 stance, some another, revealing what men of 
 different ages had regarded as supreme en- 
 joyment, when Mr. Judson interposed. 
 " Pooh," said he, " these men were not quali- 
 fied to judge. I know of a much higher 
 pleasure than that. What do you think of 
 floating down the Irawadi on a cool, moon- 
 light evening, with your wife by your side, 
 and your baby in your arms, free all free? 
 But you cannot understand it, either ; it needs 
 a twenty-one months' qualification, and I can 
 never regret my twenty-one months of misery, 
 when I recall that one delicious thrill. I 
 think I have had a better appreciation of 
 what heaven may be ever since." 
 
 Escape from Ava had been purchased on 
 no easy terms for either foreigner or Bur- 
 mans. In its childish egotism, the Burmese 
 government had persistently declined all 
 overtures for peace, imagining, like Mr. 
 Micawber, that something would " turn up " 
 [220]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 to enable them to drive the British army out 
 of the country. But now that foreign army 
 was actually advancing toward the capital 
 city itself, and consternation was rife. Two 
 foreigners, Dr. Price and an English officer, 
 were dispatched to the British camp to sue 
 for peace, while within the nation's capital, 
 panic-stricken citizens built stockades and 
 fortifications with furious energy. The house 
 on the river bank where the Judsons once 
 lived was torn down and the ground leveled 
 for the placing of cannon. 
 
 Meantime the embassage returned and an- 
 nounced the treaty terms stipulated by Sir 
 Archibald Campbell, commander-in-chief of 
 the British army. The Burmese government 
 must pay the sum of ten million rupees, and 
 must instantly surrender all foreign prison- 
 ers. The Judson family was specified by 
 name in this latter order, upon hearing which 
 the king exclaimed, "They are not English; 
 they are my people, and shall not go." For 
 the past three months Mr. Judson's services 
 as interpreter and counselor had become so 
 indispensable to the Burmese government 
 that consent to his departure would be re- 
 
 [221]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 luctantly yielded. At that time both Mr. 
 Judson and his wife were fully convinced that 
 they would never be permitted to leave Ava. 
 
 As soon as peace terms were proclaimed 
 in the royal palace, the Burmese officials be- 
 gan to haggle and shuffle, thinking that some- 
 how the demands might be evaded, at the 
 same time accusing the foreigners of double- 
 dealing for not securing milder terms. Again 
 and again they procrastinated, thinking, in 
 their ignorance of military principles, that 
 even though the money should be paid the 
 British army would still continue its march 
 upon Ava. At last Sir Archibald Campbell 
 issued an ultimatum: if the sum demanded 
 should be paid before he reached Ava, peace 
 would be concluded, if not, then war to the 
 finish! All foreign prisoners who chose to 
 leave Ava must be released at once else peace 
 would be forfeited. Some Burmese officials 
 remarked to Mr. Judson, * You will not 
 leave us; you shall become a great man if 
 you will remain." Adroitly he replied that 
 his wife wished to go, therefore he must 
 follow. 
 
 At last the indemnity was paid, the prison- 
 [222]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 ers released from Aungbinle and sent either 
 to their homes, or down the river to the Brit- 
 ish camp, and war was over! On the banks 
 of the river Mr. and Mrs. Judson bade af- 
 fectionate farewell to the friendly governor 
 at whose house they had spent the last two 
 months, and left, as they supposed forever, 
 the " golden city " of Ava. Then came that 
 blissful journey down the Irawadi, the com- 
 radeship with the British officer whose lot 
 was cast with theirs fpr so brief a time, and 
 finally, the first sure token of civilized life 
 the outlines of an English steamboat! 
 
 As their Burmese rowboat grated on the 
 shore, two British officers sprang on board 
 to extend a welcome and to proffer the hos- 
 pitality of the anchored steamer. There, 
 Mrs. Judson spent the remainder of the day, 
 while her husband went to the camp, a few 
 miles down stream. In the evening he re- 
 turned with an invitation from the British 
 general to come at once to his quarters. 
 
 The reception of a lady is always an event 
 in army life, and she who was heralded as the 
 heroine of Ava was to be the heroine also 
 of the British soldiers. Unusual military 
 
 [223]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 honors were prepared for her welcome in 
 camp. As a mark of especial attention, Sir 
 Archibald Campbell sent his own son to 
 escort her from the steamer. Upon her ar- 
 rival he himself stood on the shore to greet 
 his guest and to conduct her to a tent more 
 commodious than his own, boasting the un- 
 common luxury of a veranda. Through all 
 his official courtesy ran the strain of a gen- 
 uine fatherly kindness which would never be 
 forgotten by its recipients. The officers of 
 his staff vied with one another in doing honor 
 to their lady visitor whose gentle heroism im- 
 pelled their deepest gallantry. Their cour- 
 teous bearing contrasted as sharply with the 
 gruff demeanor of the Burmese officers as 
 civilization contrasts with heathendom. 
 
 " I presume to say," wrote Ann Judson in 
 a home letter, " that no persons on earth 
 were ever happier than we were during the 
 fortnight we passed at the British camp. 
 For several days this single idea wholly 
 occupied my mind that we were out of the 
 power of the Burmese government, and once 
 more under the protection of the British. 
 Our feelings continually dictated expressions 
 [224]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 like this : ' What shall we render to the Lord 
 for all his benefits toward us ? ' 
 
 An incident, half humorous, half pathetic, 
 occurred a few days after the Judsons' ar- 
 rival at camp. General Campbell proposed 
 to give a dinner to the Burmese commis- 
 sioners, and to make it an affair of pomp and 
 magnificence fully expressing his nation's dig- 
 nity. As if by an enchanted wand the camp 
 was transformed into a wonderland of fes- 
 tivity, with floating banners and crimson and 
 gold garnishings such as particularly delight 
 Oriental fancy. At the appointed hour the 
 company assembled and, while the band 
 played, marched in couples toward the table, 
 led by Sir Archibald Campbell, who walked 
 in solitary state. As the procession neared 
 the tent with the veranda the music ceased, 
 the grand march halted, and every guest, 
 especially the Burmese to whom this scene 
 was novelty personified, watched intently for 
 the next act in the spectacle. 
 
 The general entered the tent and presently 
 reappeared with a lady on his arm whom he 
 led to the table and seated at his right hand. 
 That was the psychologic moment when the 
 
 [225]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 Burmese commissioners wished devoutly that 
 the ground would open and swallow them, 
 for that lady, honored above all others by the 
 leading personage in the Burmese empire at 
 that time, the general who had them com- 
 pletely at his mercy, that lady could place 
 a black mark of condemnation against every 
 Burmese official present, save one whose 
 record was clean. She was the teacher's wife 
 whom they had treated with incivility and 
 cruelty in the day of her misfortune. Judg- 
 ing by Burmese standards of ethics, their day 
 of reckoning had come, for she would of 
 course retaliate and demand their punish- 
 ment. They and their wives would seek 
 revenge were the circumstances reversed. 
 " Off with their heads " would be the military 
 command next in order. Little they knew 
 Mrs. Judson or the Christianity which in- 
 spired her life! 
 
 A glance around the table revealed to her 
 the discomfiture of the Burmese guests. One 
 poor man was suffering palpable remorse for 
 his misdeeds. Perspiration covered his face, 
 which was white and distorted with fear, 
 while he trembled as if seized with an ague 
 [226]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 fit. There was sufficient reason for his qualms 
 of conscience, for he was the culprit who 
 had brutally scoffed at the misery he might 
 have relieved. 
 
 One day Mrs. Judson had walked several 
 miles to his house, to beseech a favor for her 
 husband, who was bound with five pairs of 
 fetters in the inner prison, and suffering from 
 fever. It was early morning when she had 
 left home, but so long was she kept waiting 
 for an audience, that it was high noon when 
 she presented her petition, only to receive a 
 gruff refusal. As she turned to go, he caught 
 sight of the silk umbrella she carried, and 
 since it pleased his fancy he must needs 
 possess it for his own. In vain she pleaded 
 the danger of walking the long distance with 
 no protection from the scorching midday sun. 
 If he must have her parasol would he not 
 furnish her with a paper one to shield her 
 from the heat? Whereupon he laughed a 
 sneering laugh, and replied that only stout 
 people were in danger of sunstroke, the sun 
 could not find such as she, thus mocking the 
 very suffering which had wasted her to a 
 shadow, 
 
 [227]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 Mrs. Judson could almost smile now in 
 recollection of the incident, especially at sight 
 of the poor man's dismay, which pity bade 
 her relieve. In her clear Burmese she spoke 
 a few encouraging words to him, assuring him 
 he had nothing whatsoever to fear. The 
 British officers who had sensed the situation 
 joined her in efforts to set him at ease, but 
 with small success. Throughout the feast he 
 was possessed by a fear he could not conceal. 
 So much for the difference between Christian 
 and heathen standards of conduct! 
 
 All too soon the time of departure drew 
 nigh, when the Judsons must leave the 
 friendly environment of the British camp, 
 and embark on the river journey to their old 
 home in Rangoon. General Campbell ar- 
 ranged for their passage to the coast on a 
 British gunboat, in which conveyance, more 
 novel to the missionaries than Burmese row- 
 boat or Burmese cart, they returned to the 
 city where, thirteen years ago, they began life 
 as pioneers in the heathen land of Burma. 
 What had befallen the little church they had 
 founded in labor and sorrow? Would they 
 find it broken and scattered, or upstanding 
 [228]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 and stalwart? Had the eighteen Christian 
 disciples remained loyal to their God through 
 all the turmoil and affliction? A few hours 
 would tell, for already they were in sight of 
 the golden pagoda, the crowning landmark of 
 Rangoon. 
 
 [289]
 
 XVI 
 THE HOPIA TREE 
 
 AFTER thirteen years of residence in 
 /% Burma, Mr. and Mrs. Judson found 
 JL JL themselves as homeless on their re- 
 turn to Rangoon in 1826 as upon that July 
 day when they first landed in the forbidding 
 country. The mission house had survived 
 the ravage of war, but the mission itself had 
 broken ranks and dispersed. The mission- 
 aries had narrowly escaped death and had 
 fled to Calcutta to wait for the close of the 
 war. The Burmese Christians, eighteen in 
 number, had scattered in alarm, though none 
 but two had failed in loyalty to the holy faith 
 they professed. Four of them hastened to 
 Rangoon to welcome the Judsons, whose fate 
 had been so long a sealed mystery to the 
 world outside of Ava. In the loyalty of a 
 common devotion to Christ they promised to 
 follow the American teachers whithersoever 
 they should go to build anew the shattered 
 mission of Burma. 
 
 When Mr. and Mrs. Judson journeyed 
 [230]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 down the river from Ava to Rangoon they 
 carried with them a trophy of priceless value. 
 It was a little hard roll of paper which had 
 been rescued, seemingly by miracle, from the 
 death prison. To preserve the cherished pos- 
 session from destruction, Mrs. Judson had 
 artfully concealed it within the old pillow 
 used by her husband in prison. On that evil 
 day when he was robbed of clothes and be- 
 longings and marched away to Aungbinle, 
 a jailer seized the pillow, untied its covering, 
 and flung away in contempt the meaningless 
 roll he found inside. Some hours afterwards 
 the faithful Moung Ing discovered the cot- 
 ton-covered package and, prizing it as the 
 only relic of the vanished prisoners, took it 
 home and secreted it. Many months later 
 the hidden treasure was brought to light, and 
 inside the tattered covering was found the 
 unfinished manuscript of the Burmese Bible, 
 upon which Mr. Judson had spent ten years 
 of arduous labor. Surely it was God's hand 
 that had saved those precious pages from 
 destruction. 
 
 Eight years later the entire Bible was 
 translated into Burmese. It has been said 
 
 [231]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 that Mr. Judson's Bible is to the Burmese 
 people what Luther's is to the Germans, 
 and the King James version to English- 
 speaking races. To the varied adventures 
 of his missionary career, even in large meas- 
 ure to the tragic events at Ava, Mr. Judson 
 owed his unique opportunity for mastering 
 the intricacies of Burmese speech. 
 
 Ann and Adoniram Judson had been the 
 pioneers of a new civilization in the heathen 
 land of Burma, but, like most pioneers, the 
 consummation of their labor was left for 
 future generations to achieve and enjoy. As 
 they walked through the squalid streets of 
 Rangoon in March, 1826, the veil was not 
 lifted from the future years to disclose the 
 transformed structure which other workmen 
 would build upon their foundations. Since 
 they were the first American teachers to 
 arrive in Burma, they could scarcely discern, 
 out of their small beginnings of Christian 
 education, the great institution, known as 
 Rangoon Baptist College, which some day 
 would stand upon a broad, paved street in 
 the midst of the city, summoning to its class- 
 rooms more than one thousand students from 
 [232]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 all parts of the empire. With only the sim- 
 ple hand press brought from Serampore to 
 issue their modest publications, how could 
 they foresee the well-equipped printing es- 
 tablishment, known as the American Baptist 
 Mission Press, which in the coming years 
 would stand upon a thriving business street, 
 employing two hundred men and women to 
 print Bibles, school-books, and other litera- 
 ture in the dialects of the principal tribes of 
 Burma? When their little church could mus- 
 ter but three native members out of the deso- 
 lation of war, how could such a diminutive 
 band foreshadow the one hundred and fifty- 
 eight organized churches with a membership 
 of nearly ten thousand, which in the twen- 
 tieth century can be found within the boun- 
 daries of Rangoon? 
 
 These beautiful realities of the future to 
 be achieved not only in Rangoon but in the 
 chief cities and towns of Burma, were with- 
 held from the eager gaze of the first mission- 
 aries. Their task was to " walk by faith, not 
 by sight," and " blessed are they who have 
 not seen, and yet have believed." The hope 
 which inspired their pioneer labor, was not 
 
 [233]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 unlike the Hope of Watts' picture, a baffled, 
 blindfolded figure upon the " top of the 
 world," drawing determined music from the 
 lyre of one string. 
 
 To remain at Rangoon at the close of the 
 war seemed a wholly imprudent course. 
 Anarchy, famine, and wild beasts followed 
 in quick succession. Tigers lurked in the 
 outskirts of the city, carrying off cattle and 
 human victims. Moreover the city was under 
 British control for only a temporary period, 
 pending the final ratification of peace terms, 
 after which the old despotic regime would be 
 resumed. Thanks to the war it was no longer 
 necessary to live under the Burmese govern- 
 ment in order to live among Burmese people. 
 Among the spoils of war Great Britain had 
 claimed a long strip of Burmese territory 
 bordering upon the seacoast. Already the 
 region was well populated with Burmans, and 
 refugees from the tyranny of Ava would 
 throng increasingly within the boundaries of 
 British justice. Somewhere within this bor- 
 derland of humane government, the mission- 
 aries would stake their claims for settlement. 
 
 As their thoughts were turning with the 
 [234]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 hardihood of the true pioneer toward the 
 frontier country, Mr. Judson was oppor- 
 tunely invited to join the British Civil Com- 
 missioner on an exploration tour in the new 
 province to determine the site of its capital 
 city. In the very heart of the jungle the 
 explorers decided to build the city of the 
 future because the climate was invigorating 
 and the elevation high and commanding. 
 With a prayer of dedication, the British flag 
 was hoisted, and the infant settlement named 
 Amherst, in honor of the Governor-general 
 of India. 
 
 On the second day of July, 1826, the Jud- 
 son family, preceded by the four Burmese 
 Christians, removed from Rangoon to Am- 
 herst to create out of its wilderness a home 
 and a mission. Even before they left Ran- 
 goon an old and unwelcome question had 
 thrust in its claims for decision. The British 
 Civil Commissioner was to be sent as envoy 
 to Ava to negotiate a commercial treaty with 
 the Burmese government, and Mr. Judson 
 was urged to accompany him in the capacity 
 of British ambassador. At first he vigor- 
 ously demurred, having no relish for further 
 
 [235]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 encounter with the tricky Burmese govern- 
 ment and no heart to leave home after his 
 long and painful absence. Perhaps as bait 
 for his acceptance, there was finally offered 
 him that golden opportunity which never yet 
 had he been able to resist. If he would join 
 the embassy, they would agree to work for 
 the insertion of a clause in the treaty, insur- 
 ing religious liberty to the subjects of Burma. 
 A vision of the whole country open to the 
 gospel of Christ broke down every scruple 
 against the journey. With all her heart Mrs. 
 Judson seconded the decision to go, regard- 
 less of the loneliness in store for herself and 
 Maria in their wilderness home. 
 
 In the little house at Amherst, vacated by 
 the British Civil Superintendent for their 
 occupancy, Mr. and Mrs. Judson prayed to- 
 gether and kissed each other good-by for the 
 separation which promised to be far less long 
 and hazardous than many they had experi- 
 enced in their adventurous lives. They had 
 been preserved through such extreme perils 
 and hardships that an absence of three or 
 four months, in circumstances of safety and 
 comfort, seemed a matter of trivial import. 
 [236]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 In expectation of a speedy reunion, and a 
 home life sanctified by the sorrow of the 
 past, Mrs. Judson watched her husband de- 
 part out of the peace of the tropical forest 
 into the friction and discontent of the heathen 
 city of Ava. 
 
 After he had gone she went eagerly to 
 work, fashioning visible evidences of the mis- 
 sion they dreamed of establishing in the new 
 Burma. Within the passage of two months' 
 time, she had erected a bamboo house and 
 two schoolhouses, in one of which she col- 
 lected ten pupils for Moung Ing to instruct, 
 reserving the other for the girls' school she 
 planned to teach herself. Each Sunday she 
 held services for the small but loyal congre- 
 gation of Burmese Christians. " After all 
 our sufferings and afflictions," she wrote her 
 husband, " I cannot but hope that God has 
 mercy and a blessing in store for us. Let 
 us strive to obtain it by our prayers and 
 holy life." 
 
 When late September fell upon the unquiet 
 city of Ava, Mr. Judson received another 
 letter from his wife which rang with hopeful- 
 ness and brought a tinge of relief to his con- 
 
 [237]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 stant solicitude for the little jungle home 
 he had left behind. " I have this day moved 
 into the new house," wrote Mrs. Judson, 
 " and for the first time since we were broken 
 up at Ava feel myself at home. The house 
 is large and convenient, and if you were here 
 I should feel quite happy. The native popu- 
 lation is increasing very fast, and things wear 
 a favorable aspect. Moung Ing's school has 
 commenced with ten scholars, and more are 
 expected. Poor little Maria is still feeble. 
 I sometimes hope she is getting better; then 
 again she declines to her former weakness. 
 When I ask her where papa is, she always 
 starts up and points toward the sea. The 
 servants behave very well and I have no trou- 
 ble about anything excepting you and Maria. 
 Pray take care of yourself, particularly as 
 regards the intermittent fever at Ava. May 
 God preserve and bless you, and restore you 
 in safety to your new and old home, is the 
 prayer of your affectionate Ann." 
 
 The solace of this message brought to Mr. 
 Judson no suggestion of the solemn, heart- 
 breaking reality which a few weeks would 
 disclose. No warning voice told him, as he 
 [238]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 chafed at the long absence from home, that 
 away toward the coast in the frontier town 
 of Amherst, the wife who had ministered to 
 him with such matchless devotion, would soon 
 need his succor as she had never needed be- 
 fore and would never need again. How 
 could he know that the slip of paper he held 
 in his hand bore the last written word he 
 would ever receive from Ann, his dearly 
 loved Ann? 
 
 The annoying events of every day in the 
 too familiar environment of Ava kept mind 
 and heart busily occupied but perpetually 
 disquieted. Associations too painful to re- 
 call, yet too evident to escape, preyed daily 
 upon his senses. Again he was entangled 
 in the maze of stupidity and conceit which 
 comprised the government of Burma. And 
 again, alas, he was confounded by the flat 
 refusal of the king to grant religious freedom 
 to his subjects. What unholy spell was cast 
 upon the name of Ava to yield such a harvest 
 of galling experience! 
 
 Why had he come? The trip had proved 
 one long, unrelieved disappointment, yet at 
 its outset it had looked so promising, had 
 
 [239]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 seemed to indicate so plainly the path of 
 duty. With torturing insistence he asked 
 that question on the day in November when 
 a black sealed letter was laid cautiously in 
 his hands. Upon sight of the envelope, bear- 
 ing its emblem of grief, he concluded that 
 frail little Maria had lost hold of life. With 
 thankfulness too deep for tears, that the 
 mother was spared, he went into his room, 
 broke the seal, and read the opening sentence 
 of a letter written by a British officer in 
 Amherst. 
 
 " My dear Sir : To one who has suffered 
 so much, and with such exemplary fortitude, 
 there needs but little preface to tell a tale 
 of distress. It were cruel indeed to torture 
 you with doubt and suspense. To sum up 
 the unhappy tidings in a few words, Mrs. 
 Judson is no more. . . ." In broken snatches 
 he got through the dreadful letter, every 
 phrase of which was written, as if by fire, 
 upon his heart. Early in October she was 
 taken sick with fever so violent that from 
 the first a sure instinct told her she could 
 not recover. A skilful English physician 
 [240]
 
 The Hopia Tree
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 was in constant attendance, and through the 
 kindness of the Civil Superintendent, a 
 European nurse was procured from the 
 forty-fifth regiment. Everything which a 
 loving appreciation could prompt was done 
 for her comfort and healing, but to no avail. 
 For two weeks the fever rose and fell, in- 
 creased and abated, until when its course 
 was fully run, her strength was also com- 
 pletely spent. On the 6th of October, in 
 the dusk of evening, her spirit went home 
 to God. ' We have buried her," so the letter 
 ran, " near the spot where she first landed, 
 and I have put up a small, rude fence around 
 the grave, to protect it from incautious in- 
 trusions. Your little girl, Maria, is much 
 better. Mrs. Wade has taken charge of her, 
 and I hope she will continue to thrive under 
 her care." 
 
 Some weeks later, a broken-hearted man 
 sat down in the desolate house at Amherst 
 and wrote to the mother of Ann, over in the 
 Hasseltine homestead in Bradford. This is 
 the story of those last days as his pen 
 recorded it: 
 
 [241]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 "Amherst, February 4, 1827. 
 
 " Amid the desolation that death has made, 
 I take up my pen once more to address the 
 mother of my beloved Ann. I am sitting 
 in the house she built, in the room where she 
 breathed her last, and at a window from 
 which I see the hopia tree that stands at the 
 head of her grave, and the top of the ' small, 
 rude fence ' which they have put up ' to pro- 
 tect it from incautious intrusion.' 
 
 " Mr. and Mrs. Wade are living in the 
 house, having arrived here about a month 
 after Ann's death; and Mrs. Wade has taken 
 charge of my poor motherless Maria. I was 
 unable to get any accounts of the child at 
 Rangoon; and it was only on my arriving 
 here, the 24th ultimo, that I learned she was 
 still alive. Mr. Wade met me at the landing- 
 place, and as I passed on to the house one 
 and another of the native Christians came 
 out, and when they saw me they began to 
 weep. At length we reached the house, and 
 I almost expected to see my love coming out 
 to meet me, as usual. But no; I saw only in 
 the arms of Mrs. Wade a poor little puny 
 child, who could not recognize her weeping
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 father, and from whose infant mind had long 
 been erased all recollection of the mother 
 who had loved her so much. 
 
 " She turned away from me in alarm, and 
 I, obliged to seek comfort elsewhere, found 
 my way to the grave. But who ever obtained 
 comfort there? Thence I went to the house 
 in which I left her, and looked at the spot 
 where we last knelt in prayer and where we 
 exchanged the parting kiss. 
 
 " It seems that her head was much af- 
 fected during her last days, and she said 
 but little. She sometimes complained thus: 
 ' The teacher is long in coming; and the new 
 missionaries are long in coming; I must die 
 alone, and leave my little one; but as it 
 is the will of God, I acquiesce in his will. 
 I am not afraid of death, but I am 
 afraid I shall not be able to bear these 
 pains. Tell the teacher that the disease was 
 most violent, and I could not write; tell him 
 how I suffered and died; tell him all that you 
 see; and take care of the house and things 
 until he returns.' When she was unable to 
 notice anything else, she would still call the 
 child to her, and charge the nurse to be 
 
 [243]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 kind to it, and indulge it in everything, un- 
 til its father should return. The last day or 
 two she lay almost senseless and motionless, 
 on one side, her head reclining on her arm, 
 her eyes closed; and at eight in the evening, 
 with one exclamation of distress in the Bur- 
 mese language, she ceased to breathe. 
 
 ' The doctor is decidedly of opinion that 
 the fatal termination of the fever is not to 
 be ascribed to the localities of the new settle- 
 ment, but chiefly to the weakness of her con- 
 stitution, occasioned by the severe privations 
 and long-protracted sufferings she endured 
 at Ava. O, with what meekness, and pa- 
 tience, and magnanimity and Christian forti- 
 tude she bore those sufferings! And can I 
 wish they had been less? Can I sacri- 
 legiously wish to rob her crown of a single 
 gem? Much she saw and suffered of the 
 evil of this evil world, and eminently was she 
 qualified to relish and enjoy the pure and 
 holy rest into which she has entered. True, 
 she has been taken from a sphere in which 
 she was singularly qualified, by her natural 
 disposition, her winning manners, her devoted 
 zeal, and her perfect acquaintance with the 
 [244]
 
 Ann of Ava 
 
 language, to be extensively serviceable to the 
 cause of Christ; true, she has been torn 
 from her husband's bleeding heart and from 
 her darling babe; but infinite wisdom and 
 love have presided, as ever, in this most 
 afflicting dispensation. Faith decides that it 
 is all right, and the decision of faith eternity 
 will soon confirm." 
 
 In the spring of that sad New Year, the 
 child Maria, aged two years and three 
 months, was laid by the side of her mother 
 under the hopia tree, which shaded their 
 graves with its fair name of hope. Hope, 
 sometimes blithesome and radiant, sometimes 
 downcast and suffering, but always hope un- 
 conquerable, had inspired the life of Ann 
 Hasseltine Judson from its beginning in the 
 hill village of New England to its close 
 in the jungle village of Burma. But lying- 
 deeper than hope, deeper even than faith, 
 down in her heart of hearts was buried the 
 secret which had transformed her life, 
 ' Whom, not having seen, I love." 
 
 END 
 
 [245]
 
 Hfet of 
 
 Jftisston Poarite anb 
 Comgponbente 
 
 INASMUCH as the publishing business of the Missionary Education Move- 
 ment is conducted in behalf of the Foreign and Home Mission Boards and 
 Societies of the United States and Canada, the Movement conducts no retail 
 business, but directs all orders to the Mission Boards. 
 
 Orders for literature on foreign and home missions should be addressed to the 
 secretaries representing those organizations, who are prepared to furnish special 
 helps to leaders of mission study classes and to other missionary workers. 
 
 If the address of the secretary of the foreign or home mission board or society 
 of your denomination is not included herein, orders may be sent to the Missionary 
 Education Movement, but in no case will the Movement fill orders from persons 
 who belong to the Churches indicated in this list. All persons ordering directly 
 from the Missionary Education Movement are requested to indicate their denomi- 
 nation when ordering. 
 
 ADVENT CHRISTIAN American Advent Mission Society, Rev. George E. Tyler, 
 160 Warren Street, Boston, Mass. 
 
 ASSOCIATE REFORMED PRESBYTERIAN Young People's Christian Union and Sab- 
 bath School Work, Rev. J. W. Carson, Newberry, S. C. 
 
 BAPTIST (NORTH) Department of Missionary Education of the Cooperating 
 Organizations of the Northern Baptist Convention. 23 East 26th Street, 
 New York City. 
 
 BAPTIST (Soura) Foreign Mission Board 9f the Southern Baptist Convention, 
 Rev. T. B. Ray, 1103 Main Street, Richmond, Va. (Correspondence con- 
 cerning both foreign and home missions.) 
 
 BAPTIST (COLORED) Foreign Mission Board of the National Baptist Conven- 
 tion, Rev. L. G. Jordan, 701 South Nineteenth Street, Philadelphia, Pa. 
 
 CHRISTIAN The Mission Board of the Christian Church; Foreign Missions, Rev. 
 M. T. Morrill; Home Missions, Rev. Omer S. Thomas, C. P. A. Building, 
 Dayton, Ohio. 
 
 CHRISTIAN REFORMED Board of Heathen Missions, Rev. Henry Beets, 2050 
 Francis Avenue, S. E., Grand Rapids, Mich. 
 
 CHURCH OF THE BRETHREN General Mission Board of the Church of the Breth- 
 ren, Rev. Galen B. Royer, Elgin, 111. 
 
 CONGREGATIONAL American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions, Rev 
 
 D. Brewer Eddy, 14 Beacon Street. Boston, Mass. 
 American Missionary Association, Rev. C. J. Ryder, 287 Fourth Avenue, New 
 
 York City. 
 The Congregational Home Missionary Society, Rev. William S. Beard, 287 
 
 Fourth Avenue, New York City. 
 
 DISCIPLES OF CHRIST Foreign Christian Missionary Society, Rev. Stephen J. 
 
 Corey, Box 884, Cincinnati, Ohio. 
 
 The American Christian Missionary Society, Mr. R. M. Hopkins, Carew Build- 
 ing, Cincinnati, Ohio.
 
 EVANGELICAL ASSOCIATION Missionary Society of the Evangelical Association, 
 Rev. George Johnson, 1903 Woodland Avenue, S. E., Cleveland, Ohio. 
 
 EVANGELICAL LUTHERAN Board of Foreign Missions of the General Council of 
 
 the Evangelical Lutheran Church in N. A., Rev. George Drach, Trappe, Pa. 
 Board of Home Missions of the General Council of the Evangelical Lutheran 
 
 Church in North America, 805-807 Drexel Building, Philadelphia, Pa. 
 Board of Foreign Missions of the General Synod of the Evangelical Lutheran 
 
 Church in the U. S. A., Rev. L. B. Wolf, 21 West Saratoga Street, Baltimore, 
 
 Md. 
 Board of Home Missions and Church Extension of the Evangelical Lutheran 
 
 Church, Rev. H. H. Weber, York, Pa. 
 Board of Foreign Missions of the United Synod of the Evangelical Lutheran 
 
 Church in the South, Rev. C. L. Brown, Columbia, S. C. w 
 
 FRIENDS American Friends Board of Foreign Missions, Mr. Ross A. Hadley, 
 
 Richmond, Ind. 
 
 Evangelistic and Church Extension Board of the Friends Five Years' Meeting, 
 Mr. Harry R. Keates, 1314 Lyon Street, Des Moines, Iowa. 
 
 GERMAN EVANGELICAL Foreign Mission Board, German Evangelical Synod of 
 
 North America, Rev. E. Schmidt, 1377 Main Street, Buffalo, N. Y. 
 Board of Home Missions of the German Evangelical Synod of North Americai 
 Evansville, Ind. 
 
 METHODIST EPISCOPAL The Department of Missionary Education. Represent- 
 ing the Board of Foreign Missions, the Board of Home Missions and Church 
 Extension, and the Board of Sunday Schools. 150 Fifth Avenue, New York 
 City. 
 
 METHODIST EPISCOPAL (SOUTH) The Educational Department of the Board of 
 Missions of the Methodist Episcopal Church, South, Rev. E. H. Rawlings, 
 810 Broadway, Nashville, Term. (Correspondence concerning both foreign 
 and home missions.) 
 
 METHODIST PROTESTANT Board of Foreign Missions of the Methodist Protestant 
 
 Church, Rev. Fred. C. Klein, 316 North Charles Street, Baltimore, Md. 
 Board of Home Missions of the Methodist Protestant Church, Rev. Charles H. 
 Beck, West Lafayette, Ohio. 
 
 MORAVIAN The Department of Missionary Education of the Moravian Church 
 in America, Northern Province, Rev. F. W. Stengel, Lititz, Pa. 
 
 PRESBYTERIAN (U. S. A.) The Board of Foreign Missions of the Presbyterian 
 
 Church in the U. S. A., Mr. B. Carter Millikin, Educational Secretary; Rev. 
 
 George H. Trull, Sunday School Secretary, 156 Fifth Avenue, New York City. 
 
 Board of Home Missions of the Presbyterian Church in the U. S. A., Mr. J. 
 
 Edward Tompkins, 156 Fifth Avenue, New York City. 
 
 PRESBYTERIAN (U. S.) Executive Committee of Foreign Missions of the Presby- 
 terian Church in the U. S., Mr. John I. Armstrong, 154 Fifth Avenue, North, 
 Nashville, Tenn. 
 
 General Assembly's Home Missions of the Presbyterian Church in the U. S. 
 Rev. S. L. Morris, 1522 Hurt Building, Atlanta. Ga. 
 
 PROTESTANT EPISCOPAL The Domestic and Foreign Missionary Society of the 
 Protestant Episcopal Church in the U. S. A., Mr. W. C. Sturgis, 281 Fourth 
 Avenue, New York City. 
 
 REFORMED CHURCH IN AMERICA Board of Foreign Missions, Rev. E. W. Miller; 
 Board of Home Missions, Rev. W. T. Demarest; Board of Publication and 
 Bible School Work, Rev. T. F. Bayles. 25 East Twenty-second Street, New 
 York City. 
 
 REFORMED CHURCH IN THE UNITED STATES Mission Study Department. Rep- 
 resenting the Boards of Home and Foreign! Missions, Mr. John H. Poor- 
 man, 304 Reformed Church Building, Fifteenth and Race Streets, Philadel- 
 phia, Pa.
 
 UNITED BRETHREN IN CHRIST Foreign Missionary Society, Rev. S. S. Hough, 
 
 Otterbein Press Building, Dayton, Ohio. 
 Home Missionary Society, Miss Lyda B. Wiggim, United Brethren Building, 
 
 Dayton, Ohio. 
 Young People's Work, Rev. O. T. Deever, Otterbein Press Building, Dayton, 
 
 Ohio. 
 
 UNITED EVANGELICAL Home and Foreign Missionary Society of the United 
 Evangelical Church and Board of xChurch Extension, Rev. B. H. Niebel, 
 Penbrook, Pa. 
 
 UNITED NORWEGIAN LUTHERAN Board of Foreign Missions United Norwegian 
 Lutheran Church of America, Rev. M. Saterlie, 425-429 South Fourth Street, 
 Minneapolis, Minn. 
 
 Board of Home Missions, United Norwegian Lutheran Church of America, Rev. 
 Olaf Guldseth, 425 South Fourth Street, Minneapolis, Minn. 
 
 UNITED PRESBYTERIAN Mission Study Department of the Board of Foreign Mis- 
 sions of the United Presbyterian Church of North America, Rev. James K. 
 Quay, 200 North Fifteenth Street, Philadelphia, Pa. 
 
 Board of Home Missions of the United Presbyterian Church of North America, 
 Rev. R. A. Hutchison, 209 Ninth Street, Pittsburgh, Pa. 
 
 UNiVERSALisr Department of Missionary Education of the General Sunday 
 School Association of the Universalist Church, Rev. A. Gertrude Earle, 
 Methuen, Mass. 
 
 CANADIAN BOARDS 
 
 BAPTIST The Canadian Baptist Foreign Mission Board, Rev. J. G. Brown, 223 
 Church Street, Toronto, Ontario. 
 
 CHURCH OF ENGLAND The Missionary Society of the Church of England in 
 Canada, Rev. Canon S. Gould, 131 Confederation Life Building, Toronto, 
 Ontario. 
 
 CONGREGATIONAL Canada Congregational Foreign Missionary Society, Miss Effie 
 Jamieson, 23 Woodlawn Avenue, East, Toronto, Ontario. 
 
 METHODIST Young People's Forward Movement Department of the Missionary 
 Society of the Methodist Church,' Canada, Rev. F. C. Stephenson, 299 Queen 
 Street, West, Toronto, Ontario. 
 
 PRESBYTERIAN Presbyterian Church in Canada, Board of Foreign Missions, Rev. 
 A. E. Armstrong, 439 Confederation Life Building, Toronto, Ontario.
 
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