dark-colored timbers and leaves are seen from below. These roofs afford a harbor for insects and squirrels, and sometimes serpents, which occasionally fall from them. I think much less of my exposure to them than I did at first. There is but little danger, and they can do no injury not permitted by our heavenly Father."

The journals and letters contained in the Memoir present many interesting and graphic accounts of native life in Ceylon; of the discouragements, incident to the missionary work; the particular trials which Mrs. W. was called to endure; and the success of the gospel at the several stations on the island; as well as of her personal religious history. Of most of these, it does not come within our purpose to speak. A brief notice of some of them, however, will furnish us an opportunity to give additional specimens of the character of the Memoir.

In the performance of the self-denying labors, involved in the life to which she had devoted herself, Mrs. W. was not without sources of comfort. She had found a home, in the land to which the finger of God evidently directed her. She had entered upon employments, eminently congenial with the bent of her spirit. She was qualified to be an assistant of her husband in his arduous duties. The proximity of Christian friends, in the same and in neighboring stations, served also to mitigate the trials of an absence from the blessings of her native country. If her religious privileges were fewer, they were also sweeter. In speaking of the celebration of the Lord's Supper, she remarks, in a letter: "I seldom derived so much strength and animation from this ordinance at home, as I have done here. The Lord Jesus seems to make up for the loss of friends and privileges, by his own more sensible presence." The mission was also blessed with repeated instances of religious revival. During these seasons, many renounced their idolatry, and became, by an open profession, the acknowledged disciples of the Lord Jesus Christ. As the fruits of one of these revivals, on one occasion (in January, 1825), forty-one native converts were received to the fellowship of the church. They all gave good evidence that a work of grace had been wrought on their hearts. From the small girl of twelve to the old man of seventy, they publicly renounced idolatry, and consecrated themselves to the service of the one only living and true God. During another of these seasons (in April, 1831), about sixty natives became

hopefully pious. All the girls, twenty-four in number, who had passed through a regular course in the school, or were far advanced in it previous to Mrs. W.'s death, gave evidence of true discipleship, and united with the church. She was the mother of nine children. The eldest of them was sent to America, and died soon after his arrival. But though only eleven years of age, he left to his friends the cheering consolation that he died in the Lord.*

Yet her sources of enjoyment were not unmingled with trials. These were connected chiefly with her missionary efforts. The indifference and inattention, manifested by the heathen towards those who are enduring self-denial, and wearing themselves out with toil for their spiritual good, cannot be otherwise than distressing. She remarks in her journal,— "Few will listen attentively for the shortest time. They know nothing, and fear nothing. Their mental degradation is indescribable, and they are contented with it. What then can we do? I do feel that the ignorance, the hardness, the careless ease of these stupid, deaf heathen, continually presented to my view, constitutes our greatest missionary trial." And again, "We have to contend with an almost perfect and universal indifference to the future, joined, in most instances, to ignorance and stupidity. We sometimes labor in vain for hours to impress upon the mind of a native the most simple truth." And again, "When they sometimes appear attentive, we may unexpectedly find every opportunity embraced to turn aside their heads and laugh."

With indifference is joined also the most profound ignorance, from which they have no ambition to rise. This is another grand obstacle to the success of the gospel among them. The following extracts illustrate, at the same time, the ignorance and indifference of the people :

"The women who came this afternoon were more ignorant than any I have seen. Their replies to some of our questions might surprise you. 'What kind of a being is God?" 'We don't know.' 'Did you never hear any thing about him?' 'No.' 'Who made you?' 'We don't know.' 'How came this earth, and all things that you see around you?' 'We don't know.' 'Do you go to the temples?' 'Yes.' 'For what?' 'To worship.' 'To worship what? We don't know.' 'Did you ever see what you worship; what is its shape?' 'We don't know, we never saw it.' 'In what manner do you worship? We hold up our hands.' 'Do you ever pray at the temples?" "Sometimes,

Memoir of Charles Lathrop Winslow, who was born in Ceylon, Jan. 12, 1821, and died in New York, May 24, 1832. Boston, 1834.

'Do you know that you will live again


when we want something.' after your bodies are dead?' 'We don't know.' 'Did you ever hear of heaven and hell?' 'No.' 'What is sin? We don't know.' "A small collection of women this morning gave me more pleasure than any I have before seen, because they listened with attention to what I said, and manifested no impatience to be going. One of them was quite talkative. It is common for one to speak in behalf of all. She seemed to have some notions, though very incorrect, about heaven. She said, 'It is a place of happiness, and the great God is there.' I inquired, if people have sickness in heaven, if they are ever hungry, and if they will be obliged to work for their living, and carry burdens. She replied, "They are sometimes hungry, they must work, they have pain and sickness, and I expect,' said she, to carry my load there!' pointing to one she had just taken from her head. 'How long do people, who go to heaven, remain ? Some longer, and others for a shorter time.' 'Do they come back to the earth? Yes.' 'How do they come, and in what form? They are born just as they were at first.' 'After the second birth, what becomes of them? They live awhile and then go again to heaven or to hell, according to their works.' 'And where do you all expect to go after death?" If our works are good, we shall go to heaven; if bad, to hell.' 'Well, are your works good? Yes." 'Have you done nothing wrong?' 'No, we have done nothing wrong.' I attempted in vain to show them the wickedness of the heart, and the insufficiency of all their sacrifices, bathing in the holy waters, and rubbing ashes on their bodies, to cleanse them from sin. How painful it is to see these poor creatures, on the borders of an awful eternity, disregarding our most solemn admonitions."-pp. 217-219.

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But besides the trials connected with her missionary efforts, she was the subject of such personal trials, as pertain to the lot of human nature; and which, removed as she was from the consolations of Christian sympathy and friendship in her native land, must have been clothed with peculiar bitterness. One of these trials was in the successive loss of infant children. Another, perhaps among the greatest, was the send-" ing of her first-born to America; and the early tidings which were sent back to Ceylon, that he was no longer among the living. In respect to his leaving home she remarks, "I try to feel that we have given him to the Lord, and sent him away in obedience to his will; but yet the thought comes across me sometimes, that we have thrust him from us, and cast him, at the most susceptible age, on the wide world; and if I could not plead with some hope, that my God will be his God, I should sink." His death made a deep impression upon her. Though she bore it with Christian resignation, she felt it to be one of the heaviest afflictions of her life.

But in the midst of the perplexities and trials of her station, it is gratifying to notice her continued attention to the culti

vation of personal piety. A constant growth in grace is manifested in her career. In the language of her biographer, she "did not for a moment consider her spiritual interests safe, because she was a missionary; nor neglect her closet, on account of having many duties out of it to perform. Her private diary, through the whole course of her life in India, affords abundant proof of her effort to keep her heart with all diligence." Her piety was, at the same time, active and meditative. She was faithful to her own soul, as well as to the souls of others. There was in her religion nothing repulsive and gloomy; but, on the contrary, that which was fitted to attract and win. Though she was not a stranger to the disquietudes of the Christian on earth, she found, in her frequent experience, that religion is not a name nor a shadow, but a living, sweet, reviving reality. Two extracts from her journal will show what a well-spring of happiness it proved to her, such as the pleasures of the world cannot afford; a happiness too high, too dignified, to be the result of any but celestial causes :

"I cannot fail to record," she says in her private journal, "that the Lord has been most gracious to me. Last Sabbath I sat at the table of the Redeemer. Never had I such emotions when looking towards Çalvary. There was some indistinctness in my views; but there was a fulness of sweet peace, of assurance, of joy in the presence of Christ, and in the holiness of all around him. It seemed another place than this world. My wretched bondage to sin was forgotten; or rather, the thoughts of it were swallowed up by a sense of his presence and his glory. God was there, heaven was there. It was the atmosphere of the redeemed. Blessed be God, the memory of it still refreshes me.

"Last Sabbath I had unusual nearness to God, and a feeling that I could ask any thing I would, without fear of a denial. He appeared my friend, to whom I could come very near, so as to talk face to face, and order my cause before him. This feeling continues; and I would say with deep humility, that I never felt so much that it is a time to call upon God, to get near and to wait before him, and plead with him, as during the last week. It has been an unusual week; I have had some seasons which cannot be forgotten. I enjoy our social-meetings very much; but they are not to be compared with coming near to God in secret."-pp. 212, 305.

She had devoted herself, with unwearied diligence, to the cultivation of her own heart, and to the salvation of the heathen. But her labors were destined to be arrested by an early death. The short period of her missionary life, full of zeal and of effort, terminated in January, 1833. Her age was thirty-seven years. She had spent thirteen years in


Ceylon. The account of the close of her earthly career can be best given in the letter of Mr. Winslow to her mother in Norwich, announcing the event.

"MY EVER DEAr and beloved Mother,—The Lord has often come very near unto you, and removed, one after another, your earthly comforts, until perhaps you feel that you are almost desolate, and that the sources of consolation below are nearly dried up. But has not heavenly consolation descended into your soul in proportion as earthly comforts have failed? I doubt not that this has been the case, and that you are able to say, 'It is good for me that I have been afflicted.' How trying in your widowed state to look upon our dear Charles, only when nature was failing, or when he was laid out for the tomb. After all your hopes and expectations of clasping often to your arms the firstborn of your beloved Harriet, and of seeing your eldest daughter in her eldest child, how trying the disappointment! Yet you could say, It is

well, for the Lord hath done it.

"And what Providence is there, however trying, however it may wither and blast our hopes, and scathe our very hearts, concerning which, as the will of God, we cannnot say, 'It is well? Yet, alas, we are weak; and, unless supported from on high, there are dispensations of Providence which we cannot bear. We sink beneath great waters. Such an affliction has come upon me; and such, my dearly beloved mother, has come upon you. We are mutually and most deeply afflicted; for your and my beloved Harriet is gone. Yes, the wife of my youth, the partner of all my joys and sorrows, the mother of my three, now motherless children, is gone. That tender, that most affectionate heart, has ceased to beat; and all her anxious cares concerning those whom she loved as her own sout are over. She has passed the Jordan ; and is, I doubt not, in the heavenly Canaan, rejoicing with joy unspeakable and full of glory. She is now in that world of 'spirits bright,' where no sin nor sorrow can enter. My dear afflicted mother, do not mourn, but rejoice. Our too dear Harriet is with her Saviour, whom she loved better than all here, though she loved us very much.

"But I must give you a few particulars. On Sabbath she was somewhat ill; but went to church both forenoon and afternoon. I tried rather to dissuade her from going in the afternoon, and she at first concluded to stay at home; but as the children wished it, she went, and seemed comfortable. On her return she was a little fatigued, and lay down a short time; after which she rose and went out to tea. We then had family prayers. I read the forty-sixth Psalm, and made some remarks upon it, which appeared to interest her; and we conversed on the privilege of casting all our burdens upon the Lord. Afterwards she went to her room, heard the little girls repeat their hymns and lessons, and directed their devotions for the night.

"I went out to my study, but not being so well as usual, came in early. Finding the door of her room shut, and having a sick head-ache, I lay down on a couch. This was very unusual for me, and caused her to inquire a little anxiously about my health when she came from her room. She said, 'I cannot bear to see you so unwell;' and soon ad

It is a coincidence, of no importance in itself, but not unworthy of notice, that Mrs. Judson, also, died at the age of thirty-seven; and, including the year which she spent in this country, it was thirteen years from the time of her reaching the station at Rangoon till her death. 16


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