out. The same evening, the Missionaries, together with the other foreigners, who paid an equal sum, were taken out of the common prison, and confined in an open shed in the prison enclosure. Here I was allowed to send them food, and mats to sleep on, but was not permitted to enter again for several days. "My next object was to get a petition presented to the queen; but no person being admitted into the palace who was in disgrace with his majesty, I sought to present it through the medium of her brother's wife. I had visited her in better days, and received particular marks of her favour. But now times were altered: Mr Judson was in prison, and I in distress, which was a sufficient reason for giving me a cold reception. I took a present of considerable value. She was lolling on her carpet as I entered, with her attendants around her. I waited not for the usual question to a suppliant, What do you want?' but in a bold, earnest, yet respectful manner, stated our distresses and our wrongs, and begged her assistance, She partly raised her head, opened the present I had brought, and coolly replied, Your case is not singular; all the foreigners are treated alike.' But it is singular,' said I; the teachers are Americans; they are Ministers of Religion, and have nothing to do with war or politics, and came to Ava in obedience to the king's command. They have never done any thing to deserve such treatment; and is it right they should be treated thus?' 'The king does as he pleases,' said she; ' I am not the king, what can I do?' You can state their case to the queen, and obtain their release,' replied I. • Place yourself in my situation, were you in America, your husband, innocent of crime, thrown into prison, in irons, and you a solitary, unprotected female,-what would you do?' With a slight degree of feeling, she said, 'I will present your petition-come again to-morrow." I returned to the house with considerable hope, that the speedy release of the Missionaries was at hand. But the next day, Mr Gouger's property, to the amount of fifty thousand dollars, was taken and carried to the palace. The officers, on their return, politely informed me, they should visit our house on the morrow. I felt obliged for this information, and accordingly made preparations to receive them, by secreting as many little articles as possible, together with considerable silver, as I knew, if the war should be protracted, we should be in a state of starvation without it. But my mind was in a dreadful state of agitation, lest it should be discovered, and cause my being thrown into prison. And had it been possible to procure money from any other quarter, I should not have ventured on such a step." "Notwithstanding the order the governor had given for my admittance into prison, it was with the greatest difficulty that I could persuade the under jailor to open the gate. I used to carry Mr J.'s food myself, for the sake of getting in, and would then remain an hour or two unless driven out. We had been in this comfortable situation but two or three days, when one morning, having carried in Mr Judson's breakfast, which, in consequence of fever, he was unable to take, I remained longer than usual, when the governor, in great haste, sent for me. I promised him to return as soon as I had ascertained the governor's will, he being much alarmed at this unusual message. I was very agreeably disappointed, when the governor informed me that he wished to consult me about his watch, and seemed unusually pleasant and conversable. I found afterwards, that his only object was to detain me until the dreadful scene about to take place in prison, was over. For when I left him to go to my room, one of the şervants came running, and with a ghastly countenance, informed me, that all the white prisoners were carried away. I would not believe the report, and instantly went back to the governor, who said he had just heard of it, but did not wish to tell me. I hastily ran into the street, hoping to get a glimpse of them before they were out of sight, but in this was disappointed. I ran first into one street, then into another, inquiring of all I met, but no one would answer me. At length, an old woman told me, the white prisoners had gone towards the little river; for they were to be carried to Amarapora. I then ran to the banks of the little river, about half a mile, but saw them not, and concluded that the old woman had deceived me. Some of the friends of the foreigners went to the place of execution, but found them not. I then returned to the governor, to try and discover the cause of their removal, and the probability of their future fate. The old man assured me, that he was ignorant of the intention of government to remove the foreigners, till that morning; that since I went out he had learned, that the prisoners were to be sent to Amarapora, but for what purpose he knew not. 'I will send off a man immediately,' said he, 'to see what is to be done with them. You can do nothing more for your husband,' continued he,' take care of yourself.' With a heavy heart 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 the prison. But now I looked The conduct of this heroic female, during her hus- towards the gate with a kind of melancholy feeling, band's imprisonment, is surely sufficient to impress but no wish to enter. All was the stillness of death; even the most thoughtless mind, with the vigour and no preparation of your brother's food; no expectation efficacy of Christian principle and feeling. No steps ployment, all my occupation seemed to have ceased, of meeting him at the usual dinner hour; all my emwere left untaken, no means untried, to promote the and I had nothing left but the dreadful recollection comfort, and, if possible, to effect the deliverance of that Mr Judson was carried off, I knew not whither. the persecuted ambassadors of Christ. Time after time,It was one of the most insupportable days I ever she made application to various members of the king's household; and amid all her discouragements, she still persisted in presenting petitions, in making urgent personal entreaties, and devising new schemes for the release of the prisoners. "For nearly a year and a-half," says she," so entirely engrossed 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." Heart-rending, indeed, is the account of the sufferings which the Missionaries endured; and did our space permit, we could give a plain unvarnished tale, which, nevertheless, would be enough to melt a heart of stone. One or two passages will suffice. passed. Towards night, however, I came to the determination to set off the next morning for Amarapora, and for this purpose was obliged to go to our house out of town. "Never before had I suffered so much from fear in traversing the streets of Ava. The last words of the governor, Take care of yourself,' made me suspect there was some design with which I was unacquainted. I saw, also, he was afraid to have me go into the streets, and advised me to wait till dark, when he would send me in a cart, and a man to open the gates. I took two or three trunks of the most valuable articles, together with the medicine chest, to deposit in the house of the governor and after committing the house and premises to our faithful Moung Ing and a Bengalee servant, who had continued with us, (though we were unable to pay his wages,) I took leave, as I then thought probable, of | to consent, hoping much from Mr Judson's assistance our house in Ava for ever.' in making peace. And a short time after this, when she had reached Oung-pen-la, where Mr Judson was confined, she thus remarks: "We now, for the first time, for more than a year and a-half, felt that we were free, and no longer subject to the oppressive yoke of the Burmese. And with what sensation of delight, on the next morning, did I behold the mast of the steam-boat, the sure presage of being within the bounds of civilized life. As soon as our boat reached the shore, Brigadier A. and another officer came on board, congratulated us on our arrival, and invited us on board the steam-boat, where I passed the remainder of the day, while your brother went down to meet the General, who, with a detachment of the army, had encamped at Yandaboo, a few miles fur ther down the river. Mr Judson returned in the even "Our dear little Maria was the greatest sufferer at this time, my illness depriving her of her usual nourishment, and neither a nurse nor a drop of milk could be procured in the village. By making presents to the jailors, I obtained leave for Mr Judson to come out of prison, and take the little emaciated creature around the village, to beg a little nourishment from those mothers who had young children. Her cries in the night were heart-rending, when it was impossible to supply her wants. I now began to think the very afflictions of Jobing, with an invitation from Sir Archibald to come imhad come upon me. When in health I could bear the mediately to his quarters, where I was the next mornvarious trials and vicissitudes, through which I was call-ing introduced, and received with the greatest kindness by ed to pass, but to be confined with sickness, and unthe General, who had a tent pitched for us near his ownable to assist those who were so dear to me, when in distook us to his own table, and treated us with the kindness tress, was almost too much for me to bear; and had it of a father, rather than as strangers of another country. 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. Sometimes our jailors seemed a little softened at our distress, and for several days together allowed Mr Judson to come to the house, which was to me an unspeakable consolation. Then, again, they would be as iron-hearted in their demands, as though we were free from sufferings, and in affluent circumstances. The annoyance, the extortions and oppressions to which we were subject, during our six inonths residence in Oung-pen-la, are beyond enumeration or description." At length the approach of the English army towards the town convinced the government that some decisive steps must be taken to arrest their progress. Hitherto they had trusted to force, now they began to think of endeavouring to procure a peace. At length it was resolved to send to the English camp Mr Judson, along with one of two English officers who had been taken prisoners. Dr Price, however, being anxious to go, Mr Judson remained behind. The court waited with the utmost anxiety for the return of the ambassadors; and at length Dr Price arrived, bringing the terms of peace; one part of which was, the immediate surrender of the prisoners, particularly Mr Judson, his wife, and child. With considerable hesitation, the terms were agreed to, and Mr Judson and his family set out to the British camp. Their departure is thus described in the glowing language of Mrs Judson : The "It was on a cool, moonlight evening, in the month of March, that, with hearts filled with gratitude to God, and overflowing with joy at our prospects, we passed down the Irrawaddy, surrounded by six or eight golden boats, and accompanied by all we had on earth. thought we had still to pass the Burman camp, would sometimes occur to damp our joy, for we feared that some obstacle might there arise to retard our progress. Nor were we mistaken in our conjectures. We reached the camp about midnight, where we were detained two hours; the Woongyee, and high officers, insisting that we should wait at the camp, while Dr Price, (who did not return to Ava with your brother, but remained at the camp,) should go on with the money, and first ascertain whether peace would be made. The Burmese government still entertained the idea, that as soon as the English had received the money and prisoners, they would continue their march, and yet destroy the capital. We knew not but that some circumstance might occur to break off the negotiations; Mr Judson, therefore, strenuously insisted that he would not remain, but go on immediately. The officers were finally prevailed on "We feel that our obligations to General Campbell can never be cancelled. Our final release from Ava, and our recovering all the property that had there been taken, was owing entirely to his efforts. His subsequent hospitality, and kind attention to the accommoda tions for our passage to Rangoon, have left an indelible impression on our minds, which can never be forgotten. We daily received the congratulations of the British officers, whose conduct towards us formed a striking contrast to that of the Burmese. I presume to say, that no persons on earth were ever happier than we were, during the fortnight we passed at the English 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 English. Our feelings continually dictated expressions like these, What shall we render unto the Lord for all his benefits towards us?' It was chiefly in consequence of the eloquent, forcible appeals of this wonderful female, that the Burmese government were persuaded to submit to the terms of peace. But such were the extreme sufferings through which she had passed, that her frame, already weakened by frequerit attacks of disease, could not long survive the shock. And, accordingly, during the absence of Mr Judson, on an exploring expedition with Mr Crawford, the Commissioner of the Governor-General of India, Mrs Judson, having been attacked with a severe fever, was cut off, after eighteen days' illness. It would be consoling to know something of the state of her mind in her last moments, but this cannot be discovered. She died in a land of strangers; and to the few friends who surrounded her dying bed, the severity of her disease prevented her from saying much. But her life speaks volumes in favour of Christianity, as not merely impelling to all that is amiable and excellent, but to all that is heroic and magnanimous, and truly sublime, in the character and actings of the human being. DISCOURSE. BY THE REV. J. A. WALLACE, "And he said unto Jesus, Lord, remember me when factor on the cross. He, certainly, was not a man, in regard to whose previous character we are warranted to form a favourable opinion, or who had aught about him which was fitted, either to recommend him to the mercy of God, or to predispose him to a cordial reception of the Gospel. On the contrary, he was labouring under the greatest of all possible disadvantages, and was actually met by difficulties, which no power, inherent in his own nature, could have enabled him effectually to grapple with and to overcome. And it is just by taking these difficulties and disadvantages into account, that we are brought to the conclusion, that it is not only by grace that men are saved, through faith, and that not of themselves, it being the gift of God, but that the salvation of the Gospel is adapted to the necessities even of the very chief of sinners, and that, moreover, when they are placed in circumstances which of all others are the most undesirable, apparently the most hopeless. Let us look then, for a little, at the circumstances in which this man was placed, and we shall discover much which seems, to all outward appearance, to be standing greatly in the way of his own salvation. First of all, he was not only a stranger to that holiness of heart, without which no man can see the Lord, but he was not a man of honest and of good report, even in the sight of his fellow-creatures, who generally judge of themselves, and of each other, by a standard which is very different from that of the Bible. In point of fact, he held the position of a malefactor, who was deemed to be deserving of death. And as it was the object of the Saviour's enemies to put upon him every possible indignity, to sink him into a state of the lowest degradation, and to number him even amongst transgressors, it is by no means improbable, that this man was fixed upon to be crucified along with him, just because he was a malefactor of the most notorious description. At all events, the fact of his being condemned to be crucified, a punishment which, at that time, was reckoned the severest and the most ignominious, is of itself, and in the absence of all other evidence, the most decisive proof that he was a man of a base and infamous character. And we are not sure but that he held that character up to the very time when he was nailed to the accursed tree, nay, that he actually joined with the other malefactor, in the language of bitterest reproach against great Redeemer himself. At least, in the account which is given of the crucifixion, both by Matthew and Mark, no distinction is made between the two; it is merely stated in these general terms, that "they that were crucified with him reviled him," a mode of expression which might almost warrant the inference that the one malefactor, at the first, was a scoffer, as well as the other. But be that as it may, there can be no doubt that he held the character of a condemned criminal; a man whose previous conduct was so infamous, that in suffering the punishment of death, he himself most freely acknowledged that he was receiving only the due reward of his own deeds. the This then is one fact in the case of the malefactor on the cross, which makes his salvation the more extraordinary, he held the character of a great sinner. But we go on to observe, that he not only held this character, but that he held it in the most appalling, the most perilous of all circumstances. His mortal life was verging to its close. The final pangs of dissolution were beginning to seize hold upon him. He was come to the very brink of an eternal world. There was but little time to prepare for the last and awful change. And that time, instead of being dealt out to him amid the quiet and the peacefulness of a dying bed, was most cruelly embittered by the tortures of the crucifixion,-by the scornful revilings of an infidel associate,-by the blasphemous railings of a savage and infuriated mob. These were the circumstances in which his salvation was to be achieved, and was actually achieved; and such being the fact, his is not merely the case of a great sinner obtaining mercy at the hands of the Saviour, but it is the case of a great sinner obtaining mercy at the very last hour, and in circumstances apparently as desperate, as it is ever possible for a human being to be placed in. But we observe, moreover, that the malefactor himself was not only brought into a most deplorable condition, but that so also apparently was the very Saviour, on whom the last and only hope of his soul was depending. That Saviour did not seem, at that moment, to be sitting, as he is now, at the right hand of the majesty of God, ruling with undisputed supremacy over all the powers and the principalities which are in heaven, and in earth, and in hell, and bearing the name, before which "every knee shall bow, and every tongue confess, that he is Lord, to the glory of God the Father." In point of fact, be was brought down into a state of the lowest humiliation. The foundations of his kingdom seemed to be on the very eve of being rooted up for ever, and his dominion thereby brought to an end. Nay, he had actually fallen into the hands of his mortal enemies. With loud voices they were triumphing over him in his last agonies. Even the vilest and most reprobate of malefactors was lifting up his blasphemous reproaches against him, as if he had lost the eternal power and godhead that belonged to him. Aye, the very disciples that had been privileged to follow his footsteps, and to witness his miracles, and to listen to his preaching, had all forsaken him and fled, as if they believed no longer that it was he who was able to redeem Israel. And, what was more appalling-more comfortless-more humiliating than all the rest, he seemed to have been deserted of the Father, and left as an abandoned victim to the fell vengeance of the mightiest powers and principalities of hell. Take then the whole of these circumstances in to consideration; the exceeding sinfulness of the man's character; the extremity to which he was driven at the very close of his mortal life, and the desertion and humiliation of the Saviour himself; and what is the inference we are apt to draw from them? Why, judging according to the outward appearance, we conclude at once, that the difficulties were greater by far than could ever be overcome; that his salvation was impossible. And yet what was the result? The thing which was impossible with men, was yet proved to be possible with God; and even to the malefactor, in spite of all his disadvantages, the cross of Christ was made the wisdom of God, and the power of God unto his salvation. And how are we to account for that marvellous fact? Not, certainly, by supposing that there was any principle of virtue inherent in the man's own mind, for there is not the vestige of a foundation for the maintenance of such an opinion, but by simply referring it to the operation of the Spirit of Almighty God. Had he been left to himself, or to the spontaneous influence of his own corruptions, he must have died in the same state of mind in which he seems to have lived, and might, peradventure, have exhibited to the very last a spirit, just as hardened, and as reprobate, and as blasphemous, as that of the malefactor who was crucified along with him. But as soon as the Spirit of God took hold upon his heart, how striking was the change which was produced, and how different was the spirit which he breathed! Instead of the recklessness and the blasphemy of an infidel spirit, there was actually the germ of every principle which belongs to the character of a Christian, the feeling of generous indignation against sin the open acknowledgment of the justice of his punishment-the recognition of the power and the mercy of the great Redeemer faith, humility, devotion, purity, heavenly-mindedness, all breathing in the prayer, "Lord remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom." And what followed almost immediately? Why, the faith which was able to discern the mercy and the majesty of the Saviour, even amid the weakness and the humiliation of the cross, was not left without a rich and most abundant recompense of reward. The prayer which ascended from the depths of one of the neediest and most miserable spirits that ever breathed, was at once and most graciously accepted. And that very hour which seemed the darkest and the most deserted of the Saviour's humiliation, was signalized by the working of one of the mightiest miracles which ever drew the admiration of angels and of men,-the salvation of the chief of sinners, at the very close of a miserable existence, in the very act of grappling with the final agonies of death! Oh! surely if ever there was a time, when there was silence and amazement in heaven, it must have been at the crisis of the crucifixion, when the face of the eternal Father was withdrawn from his only begotten Son, and the express image of his person was numbered with transgressors, nailed to the accursed tree, deserted of all his disciples, insulted by the vilest malefactors, and, despite of all his greatness, was yielding himself a prey to the terrific agonies of death. But if ever there was a time when the stillness was again broken, and all heaven was ringing with the ac clamations of a loftier note of praise, it must have been when the emancipated spirit of that same marred, and scourged, and crucified Redeemer had burst from its mortal tenement, and risen to its glorious reward. And surely if there be one thing which can shed a brighter lustre than another over the grace and the majesty of the Saviour's character, it is this: that when he made his triumphal entrance into the glory which awaited him, in the presence of his Father, and among the congregated hosts of heaven, he went not in company with a vast assemblage of long-tried and illustrious saints, but attended, as the chiefest trophy of his victory over all the powers and the principalities of hell, by the ransomed spirit of that very man who, an hour before, had been holding the character of the vilest and the most miserable of sinners. Such are the chief facts which we gather from the sacred narrative, in regard to the malefactor on the cross; and they are certainly fraught with most important and instructive lessons. They teach us, at all events, that the salvation of the Gospel may be obtained even by the chief of sinners, and that too, at the very last hour. Such, in point of fact, was the experience of the malefactor, and such, in like circumstances, may be the experience of any other man. Indeed, it is scarcely possible to conceive of any situation which could be more hopeless or more miserable than his. And so long as his case is standing on record, we have the fullest warrant for addressing the invitations of the Gospel, even to the chief of sinners, and that, moreover, though they be standing on the brink of an eternal world. The same Saviour that plucked him like a brand out of the midst of the burning, and compassed him about with songs of the most merciful deliverance, is still able to save unto the very uttermost, and has actually declared, that "him that cometh unto him he will in no wise cast out." And therefore there is no ground for despair to any man, be his character or his circumstances what they may, who is still found on this side of the grave. At the same time, though mercy has been, and may still be obtained by the chief of sinners, even at the last hour, it is, nevertheless, to be carefully observed, that that fact does not afford the slightest warrant to any man to continue one moment longer in his sins, and in so doing to draw comfort from the belief that it is time enough to attend to his salvation when he comes to die. The experience of the malefactor on the cross affords no doubt an argument, and an argument, too, the most powerful and incontrovertible, against any man's yielding to the influence of despair; and yet it does not afford the slightest shadow of a pretext for any man's yielding to the spirit of procrastination, but the very reverse. For if a man does actually trifle with the overtures of the Gospel, and continue in the path of sin, he is thereby doing what he can to resist and to put down the operations of the Divine Spirit, and is thus bringing himself, by sure and successive steps, into that state of inveterate insensibility, in which the even in circumstances, and amid provocations offers of the Gospel, if they be not in righteous such as these, he had obtained mercy at the hands judgment withdrawn from him, are most likely to of God; had all this been the experience of the be productive of no salutary or saving effect. So malefactor on the cross, then, perhaps, there that, should the life of that man be spared for might have been some kind of pretext for the many days to come, which of itself is a matter of inference of the careless and impenitent sinner, great uncertainty-or should he be permitted to that it is time enough to repent and believe the die in circumstances in which the offers of the Gospel when he comes to die. But, if it be the Gospel may be again made to him, and in which, fact, which seems indeed to be exceedingly promoreover, his own mind may be capable of attend-bable, that the Gospel was not known to the maing to them-should even that be the case, then lefactor till he was brought to the very borders we say, that he is not only hazarding his eternal of an eternal world; and if it was the first ininterests, by depending on contingencies over terview with the Saviour, which he improved, for which he has no control, but that there is every the purpose of securing an interest in the kingthing in the previous state of his own mind, and dom of heaven, then the hope of the heedless in the sovereign dealings of Almighty God, to and the procrastinating sinner is deprived of the make it more than probable that he will die in the very grounds upon which it is resting. In fact, very same spirit in which he has lived. he is illegitimately taking encouragement to continue in sin, and that, besides, from a case which bears no decided analogy to his own. And, therefore, though it be unquestionably true, that the experience of the malefactor on the cross is fraught with the richest encouragement to the dying sinner, whose previous circumstances have excluded him from the means of grace, or from the offers of the Gospel, yet we dare not say, that it speaks any other but the language of admonition and of warning unto every man to whom the Gospel has already been addressed, but who, notwithstanding, is hardening his heart, as in the day of provocation. Such, at all events, has been the case with great multitudes. Very few, perhaps, have realized the experience of the malefactor, who obtained mercy at the last hour. But multitudes, past all numbering, have realized the experience of the wretched man, who was crucified along with him, and have retained their hardihood and their infidelity to the very end. And, therefore, the dying experience of the great majority of mankind, is all against any man's yielding to the spirit of procrastination, and in favour of an instant and most earnest attention to the things which relate to his everlasting peace. But besides, you are to take notice of the fact, On the whole, then, it is both the duty and that there are but few cases which are strictly the interest of every man to make sure work of identical with that of the malefactor on the cross. his own salvation at the present moment; to So far as we remember, it is the only case which leave nothing to the contingencies of a dark and is recorded in the Bible of a man's salvation uncertain futurity; "to seek the Lord while he being accomplished during the last moments of is to be found, to call upon him while he is his existence. That of itself is a most impor- near." And, in that case, we shall not only be detant and instructive fact; and with that fact be- livered from the most distracting of all our anxiefore us, we are certainly justified in regarding it ties, and be furnished with all the grace, and the as an extreme case-a case which is remarkable strength, and the consolation which we need, for its singularity-a case which may occur again, amid the various and successive stages of our because it has occurred before, but which cannot earthly pilgrimage, but when we come to walk reasonably be expected to occur in the experience" through the valley of the shadow of death," we of every man, or in the vast majority of instances; a case, in short, which if it occur at all, is most likely to occur but rarely, and that, too, where the circumstances of the individual are so peculiar and extraordinary, as to be almost out of the ordinary course of experience. And in addition to the fact, that the case of the malefactor on the cross is to be regarded as an extreme case, it is still farther to be observed, that we have no ground to believe that the salvation of the Gospel was placed within his reach one moment before he actually accepted of it. Could it be clearly proved that he had been living all his life long in the enjoyment of the means of grace; that he had been fully instructed in the great doctrines of the Gospel; that the offer of salvation had been repeatedly addressed to him; but that, instead of laying hold of it in the day of his merciful visitation, he had actually put it off to the last hour of his existence; and that, may reasonably expect, that even there the darkness shall be irradiated by the light of the Sun of Righteousness, and that, through the kindness of our Heavenly Father, there shall be given to us the bright and the abundant entrance into his glorious kingdom. THE BENEFICIAL EFFECTS OF RELIGIOUS IN- |