Let us imagine that refined and tenderly reared lady, landing from the pilot’s boat, which he had kindly sent to take her ashore, alone, a stranger in a foreign land, uncertain of the character of the place in which she was obliged to seek shelter, and not knowing what might occur to prevent her husband rejoining her.  Instead of weakly yielding to despondency, she promptly engaged a boat to go out after the vessel, to bring their effects ashore.  Then, though impenetrable darkness so shrouded their future that she could not see how the next step was to be taken, she looked for light upon their pathway, and deliverance from their perplexities, to Him whom they served, and calmly trusted the issue to Him.  Before night, Mr. Judson arrived at the place where his wife waited, in safety, as did also their baggage.

For three days they could see no way out of their difficulty.  Then they received, from an unknown friend, the necessary pass.  Hastening down the river at a point seventy miles distant, they found the vessel they had left, were received on board, and allowed to continue their voyage.

When they dropped anchor at the Isle of France, the dangers of the voyage, and the trials that had preceded it over, they were looking forward to a season of enjoyment in the society of their associate missionaries, Mr. and Mrs. Newell, who had accompanied them on the voyage from America, and had preceded them from Calcutta to the Isle of France.  But disappointment deeper, sadder than any that had gone before, awaited them.  Mrs. Judson says:  “Have at last arrived in port; but O, what news—­what distressing news!  Harriet (Mrs. Newell) is dead.  Harriet, my dear friend, my earliest associate in the mission, is no more.  O death, could not this wide world afford thee victims enough, but thou must enter the family of a solitary few, whose comfort and happiness depended so much on the society of each other?  Could not this infant mission be shielded from thy shafts?” “But be still, my heart, and know that God has done it.  Just and true are thy ways, O thou King of saints!”

To her sorrow for her friend and her anxiety at the uncertainties of their situation, was added, while on the island, a severe attack of illness.  But when a field supposed to be accessible to missionaries was determined upon, though only partially recovered, she cheerfully prepared to brave new dangers and the repetition of former trials.  They sailed for Madras; and, on their arrival there, found but one ship in the harbor ready for sea, and that not bound for their desired port, but for Burma.  They had intended going to Burma when they first arrived in India, but had been dissuaded from so doing by the representations of their friends that the country was altogether inaccessible to missionaries.  They dared not remain long in Madras, lest the officials of the East India Company should send them back to America.  Thus, every other way being closed up against them, they were obliged to turn their faces toward that country in which they became so eminently useful.