that the governor's orders were positive, and that it was beyond his power to grant her request. By her repeated visits, she had gained a powerful influence over the old man, and on this occasion his heart was melted, and he wept like a child; told her that he had received repeated intimations from the queen's brother to put the white foreigners to death; promised her that though he should execute all the others, he would never execute her husband; and ended by telling her firmly that he could not release her husband from his fetters and imprisonment, and she must not ask it. It was now the commencement of the hot season, and the situation of the poor fettered prisoners, shut up in one close and filthy apartment, was dreadful beyond description. Mrs. Judson sometimes obtained the liberty of going for five minutes to the door of the prison, but her sympathizing heart sickened at the wretchedness exhibited. After continuing in the inner prison for more than a month, Mr. Judson's health gave way, he was seized with an alarming fever, and probably his life would have been the sacrifice, had it not been for the persevering energy and tender assiduity of his heroic wife. With the hope of effecting his deliverance, and in order to be constantly near him, she removed from the house, and erected a small bamboo room in the governor's inclosure, which was nearly opposite the prison-gate. Here did that faithful woman take up her station to watch over her suffering husband, and to besiege the governor with her incessant entreaties, till at length the old man, worn out with "her continual coming, gave orders to place Mr. Judson in a more comfortable apartment, and granted her permission to go in and out all times of the day to administer the necessary medicine and nourishment. Now," says she, "I felt happy indeed; and had Mr. J. instantly removed into a little bamboo hovel, so low that neither of us could stand upright- but a palace in comparison with the place he had left." This state of comparative happiness had lasted but two or three days, when Mrs. Judson was suddenly sent for by the governor, from the prison where she had gone to carry her poor husband some breakfast. The governor pretended he wished to consult her about his watch, though his real object was to detain her from her husband until time could be afforded for driving the prisoners off. Upon her leaving the governor's to return to her little bamboo room, she met one of the servants, who informed her with a ghastly coun tenance that the white prisoners were all carried off, he knew not whither. This was terrible news. She ran through the city from one street to another, almost in a state of distraction, hoping, but in vain, to get a glimpse of them, that she might know in what direction they had been driven. She inquired of all she met, but scarcely one would answer. At length, an old woman told her the white prisoners were to be carried to Amarapoora, and had gone towards the little river. She ran to the river, a distance of about half a mile, and concluded she had been deceived. She hurried back to the governor's, who informed her they had been removed to Amarapoora, and added the fearful words: "you can do nothing more for your husband, take care of yourself!" This was a trying moment indeed; and never before or after did this heroic woman come so near giving up in despondency and despair as at this distressing crisis. "With a heavy heart," says she, "I went to my room, and having no hope to excite me to exertion, I sunk down almost in despair. For several days previous, I had been actively engaged in building my own little room, and making our hovel comfortable. My thoughts had been almost entirely occupied in contriving means to get into prison. But now I looked towards the gate with a kind of melan choly feeling, but no wish to enter. All was the stillness of death; no preparation of my husband's food; no expectation of meeting him at the usual dinner hour; all my employment, all my occupations seemed to have ceased, and I had nothing left but the dreadful recollection that Mr. Judson was carried off, I knew not whither. It was one of the most insupportable days I ever passed." Yet even under this blow was she still supported by an arm unseen, and strengthened for yet further exertions of Christian heroism, on behalf of that suffering man of God, her beloved and persecuted husband. Noble and heroic woman! thou shalt be had in everlasting remembrance; and when the names of the world's heroes, of victorious conquerors, and of mighty monarchs, shall be forgotten in oblivion, thy honored and beloved name shall be a watch-word of all that is tender in conjugal affection,-all that is elevating in female piety,all that is ennobling in female heroism,—all that is holy in Christian love. Centuries may roll away, and the idols of Gaudama fall before the cross of Jesus; but still shall thy name be cherished as one of Burmah's first and truest benefactors; as one of the noblest ornaments of thy sex, and one of the purest and the brightest gems in the crown of thy country's glory! THE PRISONER'S LULLABY. REV. ADONIRAM JUDSON. The following touching verses were inserted in the American Baptist Magazine, for July, 1827, under the title of "Lines addressed to an infant daughter, twenty days old, in the condemned prison of Ava.” SLEEP, darling infant, sleep, Hushed on thy mother's breast; Sleep, darling infant, sleep, Blest that thou can'st not know Sleep, darling infant, sleep, May Heaven its blessing shed, Why ope thy little eyes? Her sorrowing mother's bending form? Her father's misery? Would'st view this drear abode, Where fettered felons lie; And wonder that thy father dear |