BRAVE DEEDS OF WOMEN IN THE MISSION FIELD

JANE CHALMERS

ALONE AMONGST CANNIBALS

Alone among cannibals! One can scarcely imagine a more terrifying experience for a white woman. No matter how friendly people around might be, the knowledge that they were by long habit cannibals, whose huts were adorned with human skulls, would be sufficient to strike terror to the heart of the bravest. One woman is known to have experienced this trying ordeal, and she was a missionary’s wife.

In the life of that noble missionary, James Chalmers, we get glimpses of a woman who was indeed a heroine, and who had the unpleasant experience of being left for a time, without any white companions, in the midst of cannibals. This was Jane Chalmers the martyr-missionary’s first wife.

Jane Hercus was married to Chalmers in October, 1865, and in the following January they sailed for Australia on their way to the South Sea Islands. At the very outset of their missionary career danger assailed them. A gale sprang up in the Channel, and for a time it was believed that the ship and everyone aboard her would be lost. Providentially, however, their vessel weathered the storm, although so much damaged that she had to put into Weymouth, and remain there a fortnight for repairs. On May 20 they arrived in Adelaide, and in August sailed from Sydney for the New Hebrides; but while approaching Aneiteum, to land some passengers, the ship struck an unseen reef, and could not be got off until some days had elapsed. Temporary repairs were made, and with men working at the pumps day and night the ship slowly made her way back to Sydney. After six weeks’ enforced stay at Sydney, Jane Chalmers and her husband made another start for their destination, which, however, they were not to reach without further danger.

On January 8 the ship struck on a reef which surrounds Savage Island, and became a total wreck, but happily, without loss of life, as the passengers and crew managed to get off in the boats. They reached shore in safety, but although Jane Chalmers was ill for some time, neither she nor her husband were discouraged.

Six weeks after the wreck of the ship, Mr. and Mrs. Chalmers left on a schooner for Samoa, and during the voyage Mrs. Chalmers’ health improved. After a six weeks’ stay at Samoa Chalmers and his wife sailed for Rarotonga, and on May 20, 1867, arrived there. In that beautiful island Mr. and Mrs. Chalmers settled down at once to work. ‘The natives,’ Mrs. Chalmers wrote, ’have to be treated in all things more like children at home than men. They soon get weary and discouraged in any work, but a few words of praise or encouragement put fresh spirit within them.’ Missionaries had laboured at Rarotonga before the arrival of the Chalmers, and the work was not exactly the type which James Chalmers desired. He longed to be a missionary to the heathen; but it was not until he had spent ten years at Rarotonga that his desire was gratified by his being appointed to New Guinea, then a comparatively unknown land, the people of which were savages of the most degraded type.

At Dunedin, where the Chalmers stayed for a time, Mrs. Chalmers was frequently urged to remain behind until her husband was settled in his new home. ‘No,’ she replied on every occasion ’my place is by my husband’s side.’ And so this brave woman, in spite of the protestations of her friends, went forth with her husband to live among cannibals. The first native who spoke to Mrs. Chalmers on their arrival at Suau was wearing a necklace of human bones, and wishing to be gracious to her, this same cannibal offered her later a portion of a man’s breast ready cooked! Signs of cannibalism were to be found everywhere, and the chief’s house in which the Chalmers took up their residence until their own was built, was hung with human skulls. Such sights as Jane Chalmers witnessed were bad enough to appal any woman, but she bore up bravely, and was soon busy learning the language from a young warrior, whom, in return, she taught knitting and tatting. Both she and her husband made friends quickly, and some of their new friends, intending to please them, invited the missionary and his wife to a cannibal feast.

Nevertheless, it was not long before the Chalmers were in great danger of losing their lives. The vessel which had brought them to New Guinea was still standing off the island, and the natives, in an attempt to capture it, had one of their number killed. For this they demanded compensation from Chalmers, who, of course, was in no way responsible for the man’s death. Chalmers promised to give them compensation on the following day, but the natives demanded that it should be given immediately, and departed very sulkily when their request was refused. Later in the day a native warned Chalmers that he, his wife, and his teachers from Rarotonga had better get away to the ship during the night, as the natives had decided to murder them early in the following morning. Chalmers told his wife what the native had said, and added, ’It is for you to decide. Shall we men stay, and you women go, as there is not room enough for us all on the vessel? or shall we try all of us to go? or shall we all stay?’

‘We have come here to preach the Gospel and do these people good,’ Mrs. Chalmers replied. ’God, whom we serve, will take care of us. We will stay. If we die, we die; if we live, we live.’

Then the teachers’ wives were asked if they would like to go aboard the ship, but their answer was that whatever Mrs. Chalmers did they would do. Therefore it was decided that they should all stay.

During the night the little band of Christians could hear the war-horn calling the natives together, and the shouts of the cannibals as they came in from all parts.

In the meanwhile Mr. and Mrs. Chalmers had made up in parcels the compensation which they intended to offer the people; but when, at four o’clock in the morning, the chief arrived to make a last demand he declared that they were not sufficient.

’If you will wait till the steamer comes I may be able to give you more,’ Chalmers said, ‘but at present I cannot.’

‘I must have more now,’ the chief declared, and departed.

The attack was now expected every minute, but hour after hour passed and the natives did not re-appear. At three o’clock in the morning Chalmers turned in, but he had not long been asleep when his wife discovered the cannibals approaching. Chalmers, aroused by his wife, ran to the door and faced the savages.

‘What do you want?’ he asked.

‘Give us more compensation,’ the leader replied, ’or we will kill you and burn the house.’

‘Kill you may, but no more compensation do I give,’ Chalmers answered. ‘Remember that if we die, we shall die fighting.’

Then Chalmers took down his musket and loaded it in sight of the cannibals, who, having seen the missionary shoot birds, feared his skill. They withdrew and discussed what to do. For about an hour and a half the band of Christians waited for the attack to be made. Many of them were, naturally enough, much distressed at the thought of being killed and eaten, but throughout this trying time Jane Chalmers remained calm, assured that whatever might happen would be in accordance with God’s will.

But the Chalmers’ life-work was not yet ended. The chief of the village decided that they should not be killed. ’Before this white man came here with his friends I was nobody,’ he said to the men who had assembled from other parts of New Guinea. ’They have brought me tomahawks, hoop-iron, red beads and cloth. You have no white man, and if you try to kill him, you kill him over my body.’

It would have been only natural if Jane Chalmers, after the experiences she had undergone, had decided that she could no longer live at Suau; but no such thought ever entered her head. Some months later she did as not one woman in a million would have done remained for six weeks among cannibals with not another white person in the place.

Her husband sailed away to visit the native preachers at other villages, but she remained behind because she did not think it right that they should both leave their Rarotongan teachers so soon after the disturbances already described. The natives promised Chalmers, before he departed, that they would treat her kindly; and although the temptation to kill and eat her must often have been great, they kept their promise. But nevertheless she knew that her life might be ended at any moment, and it is easy to imagine her feelings when, one night as she was preparing for bed, she heard a commotion outside the house, men and women shouting and screaming loudly. One of the teachers went out to discover the meaning of the uproar, and returned with the comforting news that there was an eclipse of the moon, and that the natives were alarmed because they believed it would cause many of them to die.

The cannibals were very proud of having taken care of Mrs. Chalmers, and received with a conviction that they had well earned them, the presents and thanks which her husband, on his return, bestowed upon them. At the same time Mrs. Chalmers’ pluck in remaining among them made a great impression on the cannibals, and caused them to have more confidence than ever in the missionaries.

But although Jane Chalmers was as full of courage and faith as when she arrived at Suau the trials and excitement of the life she had led there began to impair her health. Nevertheless, she did not complain, and when the mission at Suau was established on a sound footing she accompanied her husband on a voyage along the coast to visit places where a white man had never yet been seen; but eventually it became plain to herself and her husband that she needed rest and nursing. Accordingly she sailed for Sydney, to wait there until her husband could follow and take her to England. But they never met again. The doctors at Sydney pronounced her to be suffering from consumption, and held out little hope of her recovery. She, however, was very hopeful, and believed that before long she might be able to return to her husband at New Guinea. But this was not to be, and this heroic woman passed away before her husband’s arrival.

ANNA HINDERER, AND THE GOSPEL IN THE YORUBA COUNTRY

‘The White Man’s Grave’ and ‘No White Man’s Land’ are the ominous names that have been bestowed on several unhealthy countries where Europeans have been compelled to reside; but there were none, fifty years ago, more deserving of being so described than Ashantee, Dahomey, and the Yoruba country. Nothing but the prospect of growing rich rapidly would persuade a white man, unless he were a missionary, to live in any of those countries, and a European woman was almost unknown there.

One of the first white women to risk the dangers of the Yoruba climate was Anna Hinderer, to whom belongs the honour of being the first of her colour to visit Ibadan. It was not, however, a mere visit that she paid to this unhealthy West African town; for seventeen years she lived there with her husband, devoting herself almost entirely to educating the native children.

Her mother died when she was five years old, and it was probably owing to her own childhood being sad and lonely that Anna Martin, afterwards Mrs. Hinderer, early in life began to take an interest in the welfare of poor and neglected children. In 1839, when only twelve years of age, she went to live with her grandfather at Lowestoft, and soon made two lifelong friends. They were the Rev. Francis Cunningham, Vicar of Lowestoft, and his wife, who was sister of that noble Quakeress, Elizabeth Fry. The friendship began by Anna Martin asking Mrs. Cunningham to be allowed to take a Sunday School class. She feared that being only twelve years old her request would not be entertained, but to her great joy it was granted at once. A little later she went to live with the Cunninghams, and was never so happy as when assisting in some good work. When only fourteen years of age she started a class for ragged and neglected children, and eventually she had as many as two hundred pupils. Many other schemes for the happiness of children were suggested by her, and, with the aid of Mr. and Mrs. Cunningham, successfully carried out.

Anna Martin had long wished to be a missionary when she made the acquaintance of the Rev. David Hinderer, who had returned to England after labouring for four years in the Yoruba country, which stretches inland from the Bight of Benin almost to the Niger Territory, and is bordered on the west by Dahomey. Anna Martin was deeply interested in all that Mr. Hinderer told her of his little-known land, where lived some three million heathen, broken up into many tribes, but speaking one language. Before long the missionary asked Anna Martin to become his wife, and on October 14, 1852, they were married at the old parish church of Lowestoft.

Seven weeks after their marriage Mr. and Mrs. Hinderer started for Africa, and arrived at Lagos on Christmas Eve. Mrs. Hinderer had suffered greatly from sea-sickness throughout the voyage, and three weeks after her arrival at Lagos she had her first attack of African fever. It was a sharp one, and left her very weak, but as soon as she was sufficiently strong to travel they started in canoes for Abeokuta. This was indeed a trying journey for a young woman who had been accustomed to the comforts of a well-to-do English home; but she had, of course, made up her mind to bear hardships in her Master’s service, and whether they were sleeping in a village or in a tent pitched by the river-side, with fires lighted to keep wild beasts at a distance, she made no complaint. Sometimes she was home-sick, but these natural fits of depression soon passed away.

On arriving at Abeokuta Anna Hinderer had another severe attack of fever, which, as she stated in her diary, edited many years later by Archdeacon Hone, and published with the title Seventeen Years in the Yoruba Country, left her so weak that she could hardly lift her hand to her head. Her husband was also down with fever; a missionary with whom they were staying died of it; and, a few weeks later, another missionary passed suddenly away. A more gloomy beginning to a young worker’s missionary career there could scarcely have been, but Anna Hinderer was far from being disheartened, and was eager to reach their destination.

At last they arrived at Ibadan. Mr. Hinderer had made known that he was bringing her, and when the news, ‘the white mother is come,’ spread through the village, men, women and children rushed out to see her. Very few of them had ever seen a white woman, for, as already stated, Anna Hinderer was the first to visit Ibadan, and their curiosity was somewhat embarrassing. They followed her to her new home, and for days hung about in crowds, anxious to catch a glimpse of her.

The mission-house was not an attractive or comfortable place. It consisted of one room, 30 feet by 6. Anna Hinderer had to exercise her ingenuity in making it appear homelike. How she managed to do this we gather from the following extract from a letter written by Dr. Irving, R.N., who visited Ibadan shortly after they had settled down:

’Mr. and Mrs. Hinderer at present live in such a funny little place; quite a primitive mud dwelling, where no two persons can walk abreast at one time. And yet there is an air of quiet domestic comfort and happiness about it that makes it a little palace in my eyes. It is unfortunate, however, for my temples, for in screwing in at one door and out at the other, forgetting to stoop at the proper time, my head gets many a knock. At one end, six feet square, is the bedroom, separated from the dining-room by a standing bookcase; my bedroom is at one end of this, formed by a sofa, and my privacy established by a white sheet, put across for a screen at bedtime.’

In a very short time Anna Hinderer became popular with the women and children, and set to work to learn the language. The boys being eager to learn English she would point to a tree, pig, horse, or anything near by, and the youngsters would tell her the Yoruba name for it. In return she told them the English name. But long before she had acquired anything like a useful knowledge of the language she managed to make the women and children understand that Sunday was a day of rest, and was delighted to see that many of them followed her example and gave up their Sunday occupations. The women were indeed deeply attached to her. If she looked hot they fanned her, and whenever they saw that she was tired they insisted upon her sitting down. When she had an attack of fever they were greatly distressed, and constantly inquiring how she was progressing.

Having at last acquired a fair knowledge of the Yoruba language, Anna Hinderer started a day school for children, and to nine little boys who were regular in their attendance she gave a blue shirt each, of which they were immensely proud. A little later she prevailed upon a chief to allow his two children to come and live with her. One was a girl six years of age, and the other her brother, two years younger. Throughout the day the little ones were very happy, but towards evening the girl wanted to go home. She was evidently frightened, and was overheard saying to her brother, “Don’t stay. When it gets dark the white people kill and eat the black.” Both, then, ran off home, but returned the following morning. A few days later the boy, in spite of his sister’s warnings, stayed all night. The girl left him in great distress, and at daybreak was waiting outside the mission-house, anxious to see if he were still alive. Her astonishment on finding that he had been treated as kindly after dark as during daylight was great.

It was no easy task to manage a school of native children, but, nevertheless, the experience she had gained among the Lowestoft children made the task lighter than otherwise it would have been. ‘Happy, happy years were those I spent with you,’ she wrote to Mr. Cunningham, ’and entirely preparatory they have been for my work and calling.’ She managed to impress upon her dusky little pupils that it was necessary to wash more than once or twice a week, and that they must keep quiet during school and service.

One day while her husband was preaching he referred to idols, and quoted the Psalm, ‘They have mouths, and speak not.’ No sooner had he said this than Mrs. Hinderer’s boys burst into loud laughter, and shouted, in their own language, ‘True, very true.’

Soon after their temporary church a large shed covered with palm leaves had been completed and opened there came a period of trial. Mrs. Hinderer’s horse stumbled and fell upon her, and although no bones were broken she found later that she had received an injury which troubled her until her death. No sooner had she recovered from the shaking she had received, than her husband had a bad attack of fever. It was believed that he would die, but she nursed him day and night, and eventually had the great joy of seeing him recover. But soon she was seriously ill. Inflammation of the lungs set in, and for a time her life seemed to be drawing to a close, but she recovered, and was before long once more at work among the women and children.

It was about this time that Mrs. Hinderer wrote to her Lowestoft friends: ’You will not think me egotistical, but this I do think, if I am come to Africa for nothing else, I have found the way to a few children’s hearts, and, if spared, I think I shall not, with God’s blessing, find it very difficult to do something with them. My boys that I have now would never tell me an untruth, or touch a cowry or anything they should not. This is truly wonderful in heathen boys, brought up all their lives, hitherto, in the midst of every kind of deceit.’

After a stay at Abeokuta for the benefit of her health, Anna Hinderer returned to Ibadan, to find the new church and mission-house finished. The natives had taken great interest in the building of the mission-house, and, soon after the Hinderers’ return, the head chief, accompanied by his wives and a host of attendants, came to see it. They received a cordial welcome, but so many people swarmed into the house that Mr. Hinderer began to fear it would collapse, and had to keep out scores who wished to enter. The chief found much to amuse him in this European-furnished house, and was immensely amused when for the first time he saw himself in a looking-glass. His wives were shown round by Mrs. Hinderer, and arriving at the bed-room they pointed to a washstand and asked its use. For reply Mrs. Hinderer poured out some water and washed her hands. Now the chief’s wives had never before seen soap, and to dry their hands after washing was a proceeding of which they had never heard; therefore each became anxious to there and then wash their hands in European fashion. Water was splashed about the floor and wall, and when they wiped their hands the indigo dye from their clothes ruined the towel.

Anna Hinderer, although frequently in bad health, continued her work among the children with unabated enthusiasm, and in November, 1885, she had the joy of seeing eight of them baptized. Two months later the state of her health made it imperative that she should proceed to Lagos for a rest. Her husband accompanied her, but both were eager to get back to their work, and were absent for only a few weeks. But during that short time much had happened at Ibadan. The natives had begun to persecute the converts, and some had forbidden their children to attend the church or mission-school.

One girl who refused to give up attending church was shamefully treated. A rope was tied round her body, and she was dragged through the streets while the mob beat her with sticks and stoned her. As she lay bleeding and half dead the native idols were brought out and placed before her. ‘Now she bows down,’ the mob cried; but the girl answered. ’No, I do not; you have put me here. I can never bow down to gods of wood and stone who cannot hear me.’ Eventually, after suffering ill-treatment daily, she ran away to Abeokuta.

For the next seven months Anna Hinderer continued without ceasing to teach the children, nurse those who were sick, and adopt any little girl-baby who had been deserted by her inhuman parents. Then Mr. Hinderer, after six months’ illness, was stricken with yellow fever, and it became imperative that he should go to England for his health’s sake. On August 1, 1856, Mr. and Mrs. Hinderer sailed from Lagos for home. And yet Anna Hinderer did not feel as if she were going home, but that she were leaving it, for Ibadan was beloved by her. Husband and wife were in bad health throughout the voyage, and the captain’s parting words to the latter as she went ashore at England were: ’You must not come to sea again; it cannot be your duty. A few more voyages must kill you.’ Nevertheless, two years later, Anna Hinderer and her husband, restored in health, were back at Ibadan.

Two years of hard work followed. The school was filled, the natives had ceased from persecuting the converts, and the prospects of missionary work were brighter than ever, when suddenly the news came that the fiendish King of Dahomey was marching on Abeokuta. Mr. and Mrs. Hinderer were at Abeokuta when the news arrived, and at once they hastened back to Ibadan, although there was a danger of being captured and tortured by the invading force. They reached Ibadan in safety, only, however, to find that the chief of that place was at war with the chief of Ijaye, a neighbouring town. The place was full of excitement and a human sacrifice was offered, the victim, prior to the ceremony, walking proudly through the town.

Anna Hinderer and her husband could at first have made their way to the coast, but they decided to remain with their converts and pupils. It was a bitter war, and soon the Hinderers were cut off from all communication with their fellow-missionaries in the Yoruba country. Supplies ran short, and they were compelled to sell their personal belongings to obtain food for themselves and the children. ’We sold a counterpane and a few yards of damask which had been overlooked by us;’ runs an entry in Anna Hinderer’s diary, ’so that we indulge every now and then in one hundred cowries’ worth of meat (about one pennyworth), and such a morsel seems a little feast to us in these days.’ Many of the native women were exceedingly kind to Anna Hinderer in the time of privation. The woman who had supplied them with milk insisted upon sending it regularly, although told that they had no money to pay for it.

For four years the Hinderers were almost entirely cut off from communication with the outer world, but they continued their labours unceasingly throughout this trying time. The girls’ sewing class had, however, to be discontinued, for the very good reason that their stock of needles and cotton was exhausted. It was a time of great privation, but Anna Hinderer, although frequently compelled to endure the gnawing pangs of hunger, always managed to keep her native children supplied with food.

At last relief came. The Governor of Lagos had made one or two unsuccessful attempts to relieve the Hinderers, and in April, 1865, devised a means of escape. He despatched Captain Maxwell with a few trustworthy men, to cut a new track through the bush.

It was a difficult undertaking, but successfully accomplished, and one night, about ten o’clock, the Hinderers were surprised to see Captain Maxwell enter the mission-house. He brought with him supplies, and also a hammock for Mrs. Hinderer’s use on the return journey.

It was somewhat of a surprise to the gallant officer to find that the missionaries for whom he had performed a difficult and dangerous journey were by no means anxious to return with him. It was the more surprising as it was plain that both were in very bad health. Mr. Hinderer declared that he could not possibly leave his mission at seven hours’ notice, but he joined the captain in urging his wife to go, assuring her that it was her duty to do so. At last she was prevailed upon to avail herself of the means of escape. She was overcome with grief at leaving her husband shut up in Ibadan, and her distress was increased by her inability to say ‘good-bye’ to the little native children to whom she had acted a mother’s part. They were asleep, and to have awakened them would have been unwise, for there would certainly have been loud crying, had the little ones been told that their “white mother” was leaving them. Their crying would have been heard beyond the mission-house compound, and the news of Mrs. Hinderer’s approaching departure would have spread through the town, in which there were probably spies of the enemy.

Seven hours after Captain Maxwell arrived he began his dangerous return journey, his men carrying Mrs. Hinderer in the hammock. They proceeded by forced marches, keeping at the same time a sharp look-out for the enemy, who would, they knew, promptly kill any Christian who fell into their power. On several occasions they suddenly found themselves so close to the enemy that they could hear their voices, but, fortunately, they were not discovered. On the third day, however, they heard that their departure had become known to the enemy, who was in hot pursuit. It was a terribly anxious time for the invalid missionary, but Captain Maxwell and his men were determined that she should not be captured. Silently and without halting once, even for food, they hurried on hour after hour, and finally arrived at Lagos, having done a six days’ journey in less than three and a half. So carefully had Captain Maxwell’s men carried Anna Hinderer that she was little the worse for the journey, and after a few days’ rest sailed for England. Two months later her husband followed.

In the autumn of the following year Anna Hinderer and her husband returned to Ibadan, where they were received joyfully. Anna Hinderer resumed her work with all her former enthusiasm and love, although she found before long that she had not sufficient strength to do all that she had done formerly.

Two years later the chiefs of the neighbouring tribes decided to expel all white men from their territory, and they urged the Ibadan chiefs to adopt a similar policy. The only white people in Ibadan were the missionaries, and these they refused to expel. Announcing their decision to the Hinderers, the chiefs said: ’We have let you do your work, and we have done ours, but you little know how closely we have watched you. Your ways please us. We have not only looked at your mouths but at your hands, and we have no complaint to lay against you. Just go on with your work with a quiet mind; you are our friends, and we are yours.’

Another two years of hard work followed. The schools were flourishing, and among the pupils were children of the little ones whom, many years previously, Anna Hinderer had taken into her home and cared for. The chiefs continued to be friendly, and only one thing was wanting to make Anna Hinderer perfectly happy. Frequent attacks of fever had so weakened her that she began to feel that the work was beyond her strength. Her husband, too, was never free from pain. They recognised that they could not live much longer in Africa. Gladly they would have remained and died at Ibadan, but for the knowledge that their work could now be better carried on by younger missionaries. So with a sad heart Anna Hinderer bade farewell to the people among whom she had bravely toiled for seventeen years. She had lost the sight of one eye, and the specialist whom she consulted in London assured her that had she remained much longer in Africa she would have become totally blind.

Although in a very weak state of health Anna Hinderer was not content to remain idle, and in her native county of Norfolk began to interest herself in factory girls and other children of the poor. She was always cheerful, and few people knew how much she was suffering from the effects of years of hard work and privation in a pestilential country. She died on June 6, 1870, aged forty-three; and when the sad news reached Ibadan there was great sorrow in the town, and the Christian Church which she had helped to plant there forwarded to her husband a letter of consolation and thankfulness for the work which she had done among them.

ANN JUDSON, PIONEER WOMAN IN BURMA

Ann Judson was not only the first American woman to enter the foreign mission field, but also the first lady missionary, or missionary’s wife, to visit Rangoon. She was the daughter of Mr. John Hasseltine, of Bradford, Massachusetts, and was born on December 22, 1789. When nearly seventeen years of age she became deeply impressed by the preaching of a local minister, and decided to do all in her power towards spreading the Gospel. Sunday Schools had been started in America about 1791, but they were very few. Bradford did not possess one, and probably it was not known there that such schools existed anywhere. Ann Hasseltine, being desirous of instructing the children in religious knowledge, adopted the only course which occurred to her as likely to lead to success; she became a teacher in an ordinary day school.

When she had been engaged in this and other Christian work about four years, she made the acquaintance of Adoniram Judson, a young man who had recently been accepted for work in the East Indies, by the newly formed American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions. Before they had known each other many months, Judson asked Ann Hasseltine to become his wife and accompany him to India. He did not conceal from her that in all probability her life as a missionary’s wife would be full of hardships and trials, but, after considering the matter for some days, she promised to marry him, providing that her father gave his consent. Judson wrote to Mr. Hasseltine, and after stating that he had asked his daughter to become his wife, and that she had consented, continued: ’I have now to ask whether you can consent to part with your daughter early next spring, to see her no more in this world; whether you can consent to her departure for a heathen land, and her subjection to the hardships and sufferings of a missionary life; whether you can consent to her exposure to the dangers of the ocean; to the fatal influence of the southern climate of India; to every kind of want and distress; to degradation, insult, persecution, and perhaps a violent death. Can you consent to all this for the sake of Him who left His heavenly home and died for her and for you; for the sake of perishing immortal souls; for the sake of Zion and the glory of God? Can you consent to all this, in the hope of soon meeting your daughter in the world of glory, with a crown of righteousness brightened by the acclamation of praise which shall redound to her Saviour from heathens saved, through her means, from eternal woe and despair?’

Mr. Hasseltine gave his consent, and on February 5, 1812, his daughter was married to Adoniram Judson. It had now become known throughout the United States that Mrs. Judson intended to accompany her husband to the mission field, and in all quarters her intention was denounced. She was accused of being both imprudent and lacking in modesty. These attacks caused Ann Judson considerable pain, but they did not weaken her determination to accompany her husband. They sailed for India on February 12, and landed at Calcutta on June 18. On the voyage they had for fellow passengers some Baptist missionaries, and the result of their intercourse with them was that ten days after their arrival at Calcutta they were baptised. By this step they lost the support of the Board of Commissioners who had sent them out, but aid was soon sent them by the American Baptists.

Missionary work in India was almost at a standstill when the Judsons arrived at Calcutta. The East India Company had issued an order, withdrawn, however, in the following year, forbidding missionaries to carry on their work in the Company’s territory. The Judsons received notice to depart before they had been in the country many months, and were undecided where to go. They were anxious to settle in Rangoon, but everyone assured them that Lower Burma was not yet ripe for missionary work. The Burmese were described to them as little better than fiends, and stories were told of Europeans who had met with torture and death at their hands.

Nevertheless, the Judsons sailed for Rangoon, and in July, 1813, were ascending the Rangoon River, delighted with their first glimpse of the country. On either side of the mighty river was dense jungle, extending far inland. Here and there along the banks were small fishing villages, with quaint little wooden huts built on tall poles to prevent their being flooded or invaded by tigers, cheetahs or snakes. Near every village were several pagodas whose spires rose above the jungle; and there were many pagodas standing far from any habitation.

As the Judsons drew near to Rangoon they saw on the hill, near by, the great Shway Dagon Pagoda with its tall, gilded spire shining in the sun with a brilliancy that was dazzling. But soon they turned from gazing at the Mecca of the Burmese Buddhists to view the town, a big collection of bamboo and mat huts protected by forts with guns, which the people fondly believed would utterly destroy any foreign fleet which dared to ascend the river. Many trading vessels were riding at anchor off the city, and canoes of various sizes and design were passing to and from them. It was a busy scene, made bright by the gorgeous turbans of the rowers, and the brilliant attire of high officials.

Mr. and Mrs. Judson landed at Rangoon not only unmolested, but with a friendly greeting from the natives. These swarmed round them smiling pleasantly, and exhibiting none of the appearances of atrocity-perpetrators. The women were greatly interested in Mrs. Judson, and when she smiled at them they laughed merrily. This unexpectedly pleasant reception greatly cheered the Judsons, and made them eager to begin work. But before they could do this they had to learn the Burmese language, not a word of which they knew. They could not obtain an interpreter, for the reason that no one, with the exception of a few merchants, understood English. The European merchants who at that time lived in Burma were, with scarcely an exception, men of poor character. A missionary was the last person these men would welcome or help.

Having settled down in their home, Mr. and Mrs. Judson began to learn the Burmese language, a difficult task, considering that they had neither dictionary nor grammar to assist them. Mrs. Judson, having to buy food and superintend her servants, soon learnt a few Burmese sentences, but her husband was learning the language scientifically, with the intention of eventually translating the Bible into Burmese. When both knew sufficient Burmese to make themselves understood, they engaged teachers to help them with their studies.

Two years passed, and Mr. and Mrs. Judson were still learning the language. In September, 1815, a son was born to them, but to their great grief he died eight months later, through want of medical attention. When the child was buried, some forty Burmese and Portuguese followed the body to the grave.

In December, 1815, Mr. and Mrs. Judson began to make known to the people the Gospel they had come to Burma to preach. Until then they had wisely refrained from doing so, knowing that mistakes they might make in their speech would bring ridicule upon their religion. But now that they were confident of their knowledge of the language they started hopefully on the work of winning converts.

The time to which they had long looked forward had arrived, but the success which they had expected was not achieved. The natives listened attentively to everything Mr. or Mrs. Judson said to them, but their answer was usually, ‘Our religion is good for us, yours for you.’ Some laughed, good-humouredly, at the idea of the missionaries expecting them to give up the religion of their forefathers for that of the white kalas from across the sea, and others declared that they were mad. No one, however, suggested that they should be forbidden to attempt to gain converts. It did not seem worth while interfering with them; for what Burman living in sight of the Shway Dagon Pagoda, and near to the monasteries where he had learnt the precepts of Guatama Buddha, would even think of forsaking his religion?

This indifference of the Burmese was very disheartening to the Judsons, and when a year had passed without their having made the slightest impression upon any native they might well have been discouraged. But this was far from being the case, and in October, 1816, they were able to look forward with still greater confidence to seeing their labour crowned with success. The printing press which they had long been expecting arrived, and two Burmese tracts which Mr. Judson had prepared were printed and circulated. One was a clear explanation of Christianity, the other a translation of the Gospel according to Matthew. The result of the wide distribution of these tracts was not such as the Judsons had expected. One or two Burmans made a few enquiries concerning the subject of the tracts, but when their curiosity was satisfied they showed no further interest in the matter. Three years of steady hard work followed. Mrs. Judson continued her efforts to win the women, and gathered around her every Sunday a large number to whom she read the Scriptures. Her husband had in the meanwhile finished his dictionary of the Burmese language, a work for which successive generations of British officials, merchants and missionaries have had cause to be thankful, and in 1819 began to preach on Sundays. Hitherto he had been speaking to individuals; now he addressed himself to crowds.

The place in which he preached was a zayat or rest-house, a big one-room building erected for the convenience of pilgrims who came to worship at the Shway Dagon Pagoda. There was no furniture in the place, and the pilgrims, or any one else who cared to enter, squatted on the floor, or, if tired, lay down and slept. Here, before a crowd of men, women, and children, all, from the old men of seventy to children of three or four, smoking big green cheroots, Mr. Judson preached Sunday after Sunday, and on April 30, 1819, made his first convert. Two months later, on June 27, the convert was baptized.

The Judsons, refreshed by the knowledge that their six years’ toil in a sweltering, unhealthy country had not been wasted, continued their work joyfully, and soon had further cause for thankfulness. Several natives were baptized, and the Judsons had every reason for believing that their little band of Christians would increase rapidly.

Then their work received an unexpected check. The news reached Rangoon that the King of Burma was highly displeased at the conversion of his subjects, and intended to punish both missionaries and converts. No sooner was this known than the Judsons were deserted by all but their converts; the people who had flocked to hear Mr. Judson preach in the zayat no longer went there, and the women ceased to attend Mrs. Judson’s gatherings.

Mr. Judson suspected that the threats emanated from the Governor of Rangoon, and not from the king, and, therefore, he started off, accompanied by a young missionary who had recently joined him, to the capital, to ask the king to prohibit any interference with them or their converts. His majesty not only received them graciously, but promised, if Mr. Judson would come with his wife and settle in the capital, to give them his protection and a piece of ground on which to build a church.

Mrs. Judson’s ill-health prevented their accepting that invitation at once. Besides attending to her domestic duties and her native classes she had learnt the Siamese language, and with the aid of a native had translated into Siamese her husband’s Burmese tracts. The Burmese territory in the Malay peninsula had formerly belonged to Siam, and after its annexation to Burma many of the Siamese came to live at Rangoon. Several thousands resided there at the beginning of the nineteenth century, and it was that they might hear the Gospel that Mrs. Judson learnt their language. Suffering from over-work and the unhealthiness of the city in those days Rangoon was a pestilential place Mrs. Judson sailed for Calcutta, and proceeded to Serampore. She was back again in January, 1821, after six months’ absence, but during the long rainy season she had such a severe attack of fever that it was evident that to save her life she would have to return to America for a complete rest.

After two years in America she returned to Rangoon in good health; and Mr. Judson now decided to avail themselves of the King of Burma’s invitation to settle at Ava. Leaving the Rangoon mission in charge of his assistant missionaries, he started with Mrs. Judson on the long journey up the Irrawaddy to the capital. But before they had proceeded far war broke out between England and Burma. The Burmese were possessed of the belief that they were the greatest military power in the world, and, confident that they had nothing to fear from the English, encroached upon the possessions of the East India Company. Other acts of aggression followed, and the Company decided upon reprisals. Several battles were fought on the frontier, and the Burmese under Bandoola won two or three victories. Mr. and Mrs. Judson on their journey up the Irrawaddy met Bandoola proceeding in great state to take command of his army. They were questioned by the Burmese general’s men, but on explaining that they were not British subjects but Americans, and that they were proceeding to Ava by command of the king, they were allowed to continue their journey.

On arriving at Ava the king and queen treated Mr. Judson very coldly, and did not enquire after Mrs. Judson, whom they had previously desired to see. This was a discouraging beginning for their new work, but the Judsons settled down to it, praying that the war might soon be ended. But the end was far off. On May 23, 1824, the news reached Ava that an English force had captured Rangoon. It had apparently not occurred to the Burmese that the English might attack them elsewhere than on the frontier, and the news of their success filled them with amazement and indignation. An army was despatched at once with orders to drive out the invaders.

The king now became suspicious of Mr. Judson. He knew that the missionary had declared that he was not a British subject, but America was a land of which he knew nothing. The only white nations of which he had any knowledge were England and France, and he was under the impression that after the downfall of Napoleon the French had become British subjects. His courtiers were equally suspicious of Mr. Judson, and one managed to discover that he had recently received some money from Bengal. This money was a remittance from America which had been forwarded through a Bengal merchant, but the king and his advisers at once came to the conclusion that Mr. Judson was a spy in the employ of the English.

An order for his arrest was issued immediately, and an officer, accompanied by a ‘spotted face,’ or public executioner, and a dozen men proceeded to the Judsons’ house. The ‘spotted face’ rushing in flung Mr. Judson to the ground and began to bind him.

In terrible distress Mrs. Judson besought the officer to set her husband free, but all the notice he took of her was to have her secured. When the ropes had been tightly bound around Mr. Judson the ‘spotted face’ dragged him out of the house. ‘Spotted faces’ were almost invariably criminals who had been sentenced to the most degraded of duties executing their fellow men. So that they should not escape from the work to which they were condemned, small rings were tattoed on their cheeks, forehead and chin. Loathed by all classes, the ’spotted faces’ treated with great barbarity all who came professionally into their power. The man who had bound Mr. Judson made the missionary’s journey to the prison as uncomfortable as possible. Every twenty or thirty yards he threw him to the ground, and dragged him along for a short distance with his face downwards. On arriving at the prison allotted to men sentenced to death, Mr. Judson was fettered with iron chains and tied to a long pole, so that he could not move.

Mrs. Judson was left at her home, with a number of soldiers outside to prevent her escaping. But these men were not satisfied with keeping her prisoner; they added to her misery by taunting her, and threatening her with a horrible death. For two days she endured this agony, but on the third she obtained permission to visit her husband. Heavily fettered, Mr. Judson crawled to the prison door, but after they had spoken a few words the jailors roughly drove her away. She had, however, seen enough of the prison to make it clear to her that her husband would die if he were not speedily removed from it. By paying the jailors a sum of money she managed to get him removed to an open shed in the prison enclosure. He was still fettered, but the shed was far healthier than the prison.

Having attained this slight relief for her husband, Mrs. Judson now did all in her power to obtain his release. She called in turn on the various members of the royal family and the high officials, assuring them that her husband had done nothing to deserve imprisonment, and asking for his release. Many of the people were sympathetic, but none dared ask the king to set the missionary free, for his majesty was infuriated by the news which reached him, now and again, of the success of the invaders.

At last, in the autumn, Bandoola arrived at Ava. He had been summoned from the frontier to proceed towards Rangoon to drive out the British, and on arriving at Ava he was received with wild enthusiasm. Even the king treated him with respect, and allowed him to have a free hand. Mrs. Judson, seeing Bandoola’s power, determined to appeal to him for her husband’s release. She was given an audience, and after hearing her petition, Bandoola promised that he would consider the matter, and dismissed her with the command to come again to hear his decision. The gracious manner in which she had been received filled Mrs. Judson with hope, but on calling for Bandoola’s reply two days later she was received by his wife, who said that her husband was very busy preparing to start for Rangoon; as soon as he had driven out the English he would return and release all the prisoners. It was a terrible disappointment, but Mrs. Judson did not break down, although her health was far from good. She continued doing as she had done for many months, trudging two miles to the prison with her husband’s food and walking back in the dark. Every morning she feared to find that her husband had been murdered, for the news of the British successes continued to reach Ava, and the people were in a state of excitement, and continually vowing vengeance on the white kalas. However, her worst fears were not realised. Her husband remained in chains, but, as he was not treated very harshly, she began to hope that the Burmese would release him when the war was ended.

But the end of the war was a long way off, and in the middle of February it became known that the English had quitted Rangoon and were marching to Ava. Mr. Judson was immediately taken from his shed and flung into the common prison one room occupied by over a hundred prisoners loaded with five pairs of fetters. It was the hot season, and Mr. and Mrs. Judson knew that he could not live long in that place. Indeed, he was quickly attacked with fever, and Mrs. Judson, growing desperate, so persistently implored the governor to allow her to remove him that at last he consented. Mr. Judson was removed speedily to a small bamboo hut in the courtyard, where, made comfortable and nursed by his wife, he recovered.

In the meanwhile Bandoola had been killed in action, and his successor appointed. The latter was a man of fiendish tastes, and he decided before proceeding down the Irrawaddy to take up his command, to remove the prisoners from Ava, and have them tortured in his presence. So Mr. Judson and two or three white traders were taken away to Amarapoora. Mrs. Judson was absent when her husband was removed, and when she returned and found him gone she feared that what she had been long dreading had happened that her husband had been killed. The governor and the jailors protested, untruthfully, that they did not know what had become of him; but at last Mrs. Judson discovered where he had been taken, and started off with her few months’ old baby and her native nurse-girl to find him.

Travelling first by river and then by bullock-cart, she arrived to find her husband in a pitiable state of health, caused by the ill-treatment he had received from his warders on the march from Ava. He was in a high fever, his feet were terribly swollen, and his body covered with bruises. Mrs. Judson obtained permission to nurse him, but on the same day her child and nurse-girl developed small-pox. She nursed all three patients, and to her great joy they all recovered. But the strain on her fever-weakened strength had been great, and she felt that her life was quickly drawing to a close. But she bore up bravely, and journeyed to Ava to fetch her medicine chest.

Neither she nor her husband knew of the intention of the Burmese general. It was never carried out, for he was suspected of high treason, and promptly executed.

Time passed, and the King of Burma becoming alarmed at the advance of the English towards his capital, sent his representatives to treat with them. Mr. Judson accompanied them to act as interpreter. He was not in fetters, but he was still a prisoner. On his return he found that his wife had been again ill with fever, and had been delirious for many days. But the prospect of peace being soon declared cheered the much-tried missionaries, and gave them fresh strength.

The terms offered by the English general had been refused by the King of Burma; but when he found that the enemy would soon be at his capital he quickly agreed to them, and sent the first instalment of the indemnity down river to the victors. Mr. Judson was sent with the Burmese officers to act as interpreter, and when the money had been handed over to the English he was set free, after having undergone twenty-one months’ imprisonment, during seventeen of which he was in fetters. That he had managed to live through that long imprisonment was due to his wife’s bravery and devoted attention. She had suffered more than he, and her constitution, ruined by fever, privation, and anxiety, was unable to withstand the illness which attacked her soon after she had settled down again to missionary work.

She died on October 24, 1826, aged 37, and the husband whom she loved so dearly was not at her bedside. He was acting as interpreter to the Governor-General of India’s embassy to the court of Ava, and did not hear of her illness until she was dead. The baby girl who had been born in the midst of sad surroundings only lived for a few months after her mother’s death.

SARAH JUDSON, PIONEER WOMAN IN BURMA

The boy or the girl who does not at an early age announce what he or she intends to be when ‘grown up,’ must be a somewhat extraordinary child. The peer’s son horrifies his nurse by declaring that he intends to be an engine-driver when he is ‘grown up,’ and the postman’s wife hears with not a little amusement that her boy has decided to be Lord Mayor of London.

These early aspirations are rarely achieved, but there are some notable instances of children remaining true to their ambition and becoming, in time, what they had declared they would be.

Sarah Hall, when quite a little child, announced her intention of becoming a missionary, and a missionary she eventually became. She was born at Alstead, New Hampshire, in 1803, her parents being Ralph and Abiah Hall. They were refined and well-educated, but by no means wealthy, and Sarah would have left school very young, had not the head-mistress, seeing that she was a clever child, retained her as pupil teacher. Quiet, gentle, and caring little for the amusements of girls of her own age, her chief pleasure was in composing verse, much of which is still in existence. The following lines are from her Versification of Davids lament over Saul and Jonathan, which was written when she was thirteen years of age:

The beauty of Israel for ever is fled,
And low lie the noble and strong:
Ye daughters of music, encircle the dead
And chant the funereal song.
Oh, never let Gath know their sorrowful doom,
Nor Askelon hear of their fate;
Their daughters would scoff while we lay in the tomb,
The relics of Israel’s great.

At an early age, as already stated, she expressed a wish to be a missionary to the heathen, and the wish grew stronger with increasing years. But suddenly it became evident to her that there was plenty of work waiting for her close at hand. Sinners perishing all around me, she wrote in her journal, and I almost panting to tell the far heathen of Christ! Surely this is wrong. I will no longer indulge the vain, foolish wish, but endeavour to be useful in the position where Providence has placed me. I can pray for deluded idolaters and for those who labour among them, and this is a privilege indeed. She began at once to take an active part in local mission work; but while thus employed her interest in foreign missions did not diminish, and the death of the two young missionaries, Wheelock and Colman, who went to Burma to assist Mr. Judson, made a deep impression on her. Wheelock, while delirious from fever, jumped into the sea and was drowned, and Colman, after a time, died at Arracan from the effects of the unhealthy climate. On hearing of Colmans death she wrote Lines on the death of Colman, the first verse of which is:

’Tis the voice of deep sorrow from India’s shore,
The flower of our Churches is withered and dead,
The gem that shone brightly will sparkle no more,
And the tears of the Christian profusely are shed.
Two youths of Columbia, with hearts glowing warm,
Embarked on the billows far distant to rove,
To bear to the nations all wrapped in thick gloom,
The lamp of the Gospel the message of love.
But Wheelock now slumbers beneath the cold wave
And Colman lies low in the dark, cheerless grave,
Mourn, daughters of India, mourn!
The rays of that star, clear and bright,
That so sweetly on Arracan shone,
Are shrouded in black clouds of night,
For Colman is gone!

These lines were read by George Dana Boardman, a young man, twenty-four years of age, who had just been appointed to succeed Colman at Arracan. He obtained an introduction to Sarah Hall, and in a short time they became engaged. They were married on July 3, 1825, and thirteen days later sailed for Calcutta, where they landed on December 2. The war in Burma prevented their proceeding to Rangoon, so they settled down at Calcutta, to study the Burmese language with the aid of Mr. Judson’s books. At this they were engaged almost continuously until the spring of 1827, when they sailed for Amherst, in Tenasserim, a newly built town in the recently acquired British territory, to which Mr. Judson had removed with his converts soon after the conclusion of the war.

The Boardmans’ stay at Amherst was, however, short. Towards the end of May they were transferred to another new city Moulmein. A year before their arrival the place had been a wide expanse of almost impenetrable jungle; now it had 20,000 inhabitants. Wild beasts and deadly snakes abounded in the jungle around the city and, across the river, in the ruined city of Martaban, dwelt a horde of fiendish dacoits, who occasionally made a night raid on Moulmein, robbing and murdering, and then hurrying back to their stronghold. The Boardmans had been settled in their bamboo hut barely a month when they received a visit from the dacoits. One night Mr. Boardman awoke, to find that the little lamp which they always kept burning was not alight, and suspecting that something was wrong he jumped out of bed and lit it again. The dacoits had entered, and stolen everything they could possibly carry off. Looking-glasses, watches, knives, forks, spoons, and keys had all disappeared. Every box, trunk, and chest of drawers had been forced open, and nothing of any value remained in any of them. This was the first home of their own that the Boardmans had ever had, and to be robbed so soon of practically everything they possessed was indeed hard. They had, however, the satisfaction of knowing that the dacoits had not, as usual, accompanied robbery with murder. But that the dacoits would have murdered them had they awoke while they were plundering was plain. Two holes had been cut in the mosquito curtain near to where Mr. and Mrs. Boardman and their one-year-old child lay, and by these holes dacoits had evidently stood, knife in hand, ready to stab the sleepers if they awoke. It was a great shock to Mrs. Boardman, who was in bad health, but soon she was joining her husband in thanking God for having protected them.

After the robbery the officer commanding the British troops stationed two sepoys outside the mission house, and some idea of the dangers which surrounded the Boardmans may be formed from the fact that one day the sentry was attacked by a tiger.

But, exposed as the Boardmans were to perils of this kind, they continued their work among the rapidly increasing population, and met with considerable success. Many native Christians, converted under Mr. Judson at Rangoon, lived at Moulmein, and consequently the Boardmans’ work was not entirely among the unconverted. Indeed, before long nearly all the native Christians in Burma were residing at Moulmein, Amherst having declined in public favour. When the majority of the inhabitants of Amherst migrated to Moulmein the missionaries accompanied them, and soon nearly all the missionaries to Burma were working in one city. Neither the missionary board in America nor Mr. Judson considered this to be wise, and some of the missionaries were removed to other places, Mr. and Mrs. Boardman being sent to Tavoy, some 150 miles south of Moulmein. The dialect of the people of Tavoy differed considerably from Burmese, and the Boardmans had practically to learn a new language. As the written characters of both languages were the same, the task was not very difficult, and before long the missionaries were preaching the Gospel to the Tavoyans.

Soon after they had settled down some Karens invited Mr. Boardman to visit them. Their country was not far away, but the missionary could not as yet leave Tavoy. The Karens, however, told him something that excited his curiosity. A foreigner passing through the land had given them a book, and told them to worship it. They had done so. A high-priest had been appointed, and he had arranged a regular form of worship, Mr. Boardman asked the Karens to let him see the book, and they promised to bring it to him. Soon a deputation, headed by the high-priest, attired in a fantastic dress of his own designing, arrived at Tavoy with the book, which was carefully wrapped up and carried in a basket. On having the book handed to him Mr. Boardman saw that it was a Church of England Prayer-book. He told the Karens that although it was a very good book it was not intended to be worshipped, and they consented to give it to him in exchange for some portions of Scripture in a language they could read. It was never discovered who gave the Prayer-book to the Karens, but it may be taken for granted that they misunderstood the donor’s meaning. This book was afterwards sent home to the American Baptist Missionary Society.

On July 8, 1829, Mrs. Boardman was plunged into grief by the death of her little daughter, aged two years and eight months. Other troubles followed quickly. One night Mrs. Boardman was awakened by hearing some native Christians shouting, ‘Teacher, teacher, Tavoy rebels!’ The inhabitants of Tavoy had revolted against the British Government, and had attempted to seize the powder magazine and armoury. The Sepoys had driven off the rebels, who were, however, far from being disheartened. They burst open the prison, set free the prisoners, and began firing on the mission house. Bullets passed through the fragile little dwelling-place, and the Boardmans would soon have been killed had not some Sepoys fought their way to their assistance, with orders to remove them to Government House. As Mrs. Boardman with her baby boy in her arms hurried through the howling mob of rebels she had several narrow escapes from being shot, but fortunately the whole of the little party from the mission house reached Government House in safety. The Governor of Tavoy was away when the rebellion broke out, and as the steamer in which he had departed was the only means of rapid communication between Tavoy and Moulmein, the little British force settled down to act on the defensive until reinforcements arrived. Soon it was found that Government House would have to be evacuated, and eventually the British and Americans took shelter in a six-room house on the wharf. In this small house the whole of the white population, the soldiers, and the native Christians were sheltered. The rebels, strongly reinforced, attempted to burn them out, but a heavy downfall of rain extinguished the flames before much harm had been done.

At last, to the great relief of the defenders, the governor’s steamer was seen approaching. The governor was considerably surprised to find the natives in revolt. Immediately after his arrival he sent his wife and Mrs. Boardman aboard the steamer, which was to hurry to Moulmein for reinforcements. Mrs. Boardman begged to be allowed to remain and share the danger which was threatening both the whites and the native converts, but the governor firmly refused to allow her to do so.

As soon as the rebellion was quelled Mrs. Boardman returned to Tavoy and resumed her work, but troubles now came upon her quickly. On December 2, 1830, her baby boy died, making the second child she had lost within twelve months. Her husband, too, was in very weak health, although still working hard. On March 7, 1831, he reported that he had baptized fifty-seven Karens within two months, and that other baptisms would soon follow. But the latter he did not live to see, for he died of consumption three weeks after writing his report.

The Europeans at Tavoy considered it natural and proper that, now Mrs. Boardman was a widow, she should, return to America, and they were somewhat surprised when she announced her intention of remaining at Tavoy. ‘My beloved husband,’ she wrote, ’wore out his life in this glorious cause; and that remembrance makes me more than even attached to the work and the people for whose salvation he laboured till death.’ As far as possible she took up the duties of her late husband, and every day from sunrise until ten o’clock at night she was hard at work. Her duties included periodical visits to the Karen villages. This was a most unpleasant work for a refined woman, and from the fact that she scarcely ever alluded to these visits we may conclude that she found them extremely trying. But, as there was no man to undertake the work which her late husband had carried on with conspicuous success, she knew unless she did it herself a promising field of missionary enterprise would be uncared for.

Preaching, teaching and visiting was not, however, the only work in which the young widow engaged. She translated into Burmese the Pilgrim’s Progress.

Adoniram Judson and Mrs. Boardman had known each other from the day the latter arrived in Burma, and the former, as the head of the missionaries in that country, was well aware of Mrs. Boardman’s devotion to duty. On January 31, 1834, he completed his translation of the Scriptures, and on April 10 he and Mrs. Boardman were married.

Mrs. Sarah Judson’s home was now once more in Moulmein, and into the work there she threw herself at once heart and soul. She superintended schools, held Bible classes and prayer meetings and started various societies for the spiritual and physical welfare of the women. Finding that there was a large number of Peguans in Moulmein, she learnt their language, and translated into it several of her husband’s tracts.

Until 1841 her life was peacefully happy, but in that year a period of trouble began. Her four children were attacked with whooping-cough, which was followed by dysentery, the complaint which in Burma has sent many thousands of Europeans to early graves. No sooner had the children recovered from this distressing illness than Mrs. Sarah Judson fell ill with it, and for a time it was feared that she was dying. As soon as she was able to travel Mr. Judson took her to India, in the hope that a complete rest at Serampore would give her back her strength. She returned in fairly good health, but in December, 1844, she grew so weak that Mr. Judson decided to have his first furlough, and take her home to America. On the voyage she grew worse, and died peacefully while the ship was at anchor at St. Helena. She was buried on shore, and Adoniram Judson, a widower a second time, proceeded on his journey to America.

OLIVIA OGREN AND AN ESCAPE FROM BOXERS

The Chinese dislike to foreigners settling in their country is so old that one cannot tell when it began. But in 1900 the Boxer rising proved that the anti-foreign feeling is strong as ever, and perhaps more unreasonable, and the whole civilized world was horror-stricken by the news of the massacre of men, women and children, who had been slaughtered, not only because they were Christians, but because they were foreigners.

The list of missionaries who were murdered by the Boxers in 1900 is long and saddening; but it is some consolation to know that to many of the martyrs death came swiftly, and was not preceded by bodily torture. In fact, some of the missionaries who escaped death must have been sorely tempted to envy their martyred colleagues, so terrible were the trials they underwent before reaching a place of safety.

Mrs. Ogren was one of the representatives of the China Inland Mission, who escaped death only to meet perils and privations such as few women have ever survived. She and her husband had worked in China for seven years, and had been stationed for about twelve months in the city of Yung-ning when the Boxer troubles began. Until then the natives had been well disposed towards them, but two emissaries of the Boxers, describing themselves as merchants, spread evil reports concerning them. They declared that the missionaries had poisoned the wells, and when the people went to examine them they found that the water had turned red. The men who accused the missionaries had, before bringing this charge against them, secretly coloured the water. Other false accusations, artfully supported by what appeared to be conclusive evidence, were made against them, and naturally aroused the anger of the people, whose demeanour became unmistakably threatening.

On July 5 the sad news of the murder of two lady missionaries at Hsiao-i reached Mrs. Ogren and her husband, and a mandarin, who had secretly remained friendly towards them, urged them to escape from the city as soon as possible, and for their travelling expenses the secretary of the yamen brought them, in the middle of the night, Tl (L15). Mr. Ogren gave a receipt for the money, and prepared for their flight, but it was not until July 13 that they were able to start.

Early in the morning, before day-break, a mule-litter was brought to the back door of the mission garden. Quickly and silently Mr. and Mrs. Ogren, with their little nine months’ old boy, mounted, and started on their perilous journey to Han-kow.

They arrived uninjured at the Yellow River, where, however, they found a famine-stricken crowd, armed with clubs, eager to kill them. The starving natives had been told, and believed, that the scarcity of food was due to the foreigners’ presence in China, and their hostile attitude can scarcely be wondered at. However, the guard which had been sent to protect the missionaries succeeded in keeping off the people, who had to content themselves with yelling and spitting at the fugitives. Hiring a boat, for which they had to pay Tl, the Ogrens and their guard started down river for T’ung-kuan. The current of this river is exceedingly swift, and the missionaries expected every moment that their boat would be wrecked. No mishap occurred, however, and after travelling seventeen miles the party made a halt. It was necessary to do so, as at this place they were to be handed over to a new guard. Here, too, they found it would be impossible to proceed on their journey without more money, and a messenger was despatched to the mandarin at Yung-ning, asking for a further loan. Until the result of this appeal was known there was nothing for the Ogrens to do but wait where they were. It was an anxious time, but on the fourth day they were delighted to see the secretary of the yamen approaching. He had brought with him the money they required.

‘Praising God for all His goodness,’ Mrs. Ogren writes in her account of their trials, ’we started once more, and though beset by many difficulties, the goodness of God, and the cordial letter of recommendation granted us by our friendly mandarin, enabled us to safely reach a place called Lung-wan-chan, 170 miles from our starting-place, and half way to our destination, T’ung-kuan.’

At Lung-wan-chan they heard of the rapid spread of the Boxer movement, and of the massacre, on July 16, of a party of men and women missionaries. They realised now that the prospect of their escaping the fury of the Boxers was small; but there came a ray of hope, when a Chinaman, eighty years of age and a friend of the Yung-ning mandarin, offered to hide them in his house. It was an offer which was gratefully accepted; but as they were about to start for their hiding-place, which was some twenty-five miles from the river, a party of soldiers arrived. Their orders were, they said, to drive the foreigners out of the province; but the aged Chinaman gave them a feast, and, having got them into a good humour, extracted a promise from them that they would not harm the missionaries. But although they kept their promise to the extent of not doing them any bodily injury, they took from them all the money they possessed.

When the soldiers had departed, the Ogrens started on their twenty-five miles’ journey to the friendly old Chinaman’s house, thankful at having escaped one danger, and hopeful that they would reach their destination in safety. But their hope was not realised. Before they had gone far, their way lay along a track where it was necessary to proceed in single file. Mrs. Ogren, riding a mule, led the way; a second mule carrying their personal belongings followed, and Mr. Ogren with their baby-boy in his arms came last. On one side of them was the rushing river; on the other, steep, rocky mountains.

Suddenly a number of armed men sprang out from behind the rocks and barred their way. Brandishing their weapons ominously, they demanded Tl. Mrs. Ogren, dismounting from her mule, advanced to a man who appeared to be the leader, and told him that they had no money. She begged him to have pity on them, and to spare her at least her baby’s things. Her appeal was not entirely wasted, for while they were helping themselves to their things the leader handed her, on the point of his sword, one of the baby’s shirts.

Having taken everything that they fancied, the robbers now looked threateningly at the prisoners. Their leader began whetting his sword, shouting as he did so, ‘Kill, kill!’ Again Mrs. Ogren pleaded for mercy, and finally they relented, and departed without injuring them.

The fugitives now came to the conclusion that it would be certain death if they remained in the province, and as soon as possible they crossed the river in the ferry. It was a dark, wet night when they reached the other side, and it was only after much entreaty and promises of reward that the ferrymen allowed them to take shelter in the dirty smoky caves where they lived. Mr. Ogren at once despatched a message to their old Chinese friend asking for help, and four days later the man returned with some money, nearly the whole of which the ferrymen claimed, and obtained by means of threats. With little money in their pockets, the Ogrens started off on foot towards the promised place of refuge. It was a trying journey, for the heat was intense, and aroused a thirst which could not be quenched. Once Mrs. Ogren fell exhausted to the ground; but after a rest they continued their tramp, and on the second day reached their destination, there to experience a bitter disappointment. The people whom they expected would be friendly proved hostile. They refused to give them food, and only after much entreaty did they permit them to take shelter in a cave near by. This, however, proved to be a very insecure hiding-place, and twice they were robbed by gangs of men.

Leaving this place, the Ogrens tramped further into the hills, and found another cave, where they could have remained in safety until the rising was quelled, had they been able to obtain food. Mrs. Ogren and her husband would have endured the agony of long-continued hunger, but they could not see their little baby starve. For some time he was fed on cold water and raw rice, but when their small stock of the latter ran out, they tramped back to make another appeal to the people who had so recently refused to help them. Their reception was even worse than on the previous occasion. One of the men had heard of the Boxers’ offer of Tl for the head of every foreigner brought to them, and was anxious to earn the money. Seizing his sword, he rushed at the fugitives and would have killed them, had not some of his relatives, perhaps moved by pity, intervened. They held him fast while the Ogrens hurried away as quickly as their weakness would permit.

Over the mountains they wended their way, sometimes having to crawl up the steep hillsides. It was their intention to make their way back to Yung-ning, and seek protection from the mandarin who had always been friendly towards them. It must not be forgotten that during the anti-foreign outbreak there were hundreds of Chinamen, besides the Christian converts, who, although well aware that a price was placed on the head of every foreigner, scorned to betray them, and did all in their power to facilitate their escape to a place of safety. On their journey over the mountains, Mrs. Ogren and her husband met with many of these people, who gave them food and sheltered them at night.

Having forded a wide, swiftly-flowing river, the Ogrens came to a village where the natives treated them so kindly that they remained there for two days. But on departing from this place their brief period of comparative happiness came to an end, for, towards night, as they drew near to a village, hoping to experience a repetition of the hospitality they had recently received, they found that they were likely to have a hostile reception.

It was too late to turn back or to attempt to avoid the place, for they had already been discovered, so they trudged on through the village, the people laughing and jeering at them. But just as they were quitting the village, hopeful that they would be permitted to continue their journey unmolested, they were seized and cast into prison. The following morning two men were told off to take them out of the province; but it soon became evident to the prisoners that their escort intended to hand them over to the Boxers. They were a particularly heartless pair, and one of them took from Mrs. Ogren her baby’s pillow, which she had managed to retain through all their wanderings, and emptying out the feathers burned them.

The following day they arrived at the Yellow River, and as they crossed in the ferry the prisoners saw that the village to which they were being taken was decorated with red lanterns. This was a sign that the place was held by the Red Lantern Society, one of the divisions of the Boxer army. On landing, the missionaries were at once surrounded by a crowd of jeering natives, and one fellow, with brutal glee, told Mrs. Ogren of the massacre of the lady missionaries at Ta-ning.

After Mr. Ogren had been closely questioned, he was told they would be taken back to Yung-ning, but when they left the village they found that they were being led in quite a different direction. At night they were placed in a cave, and on the following morning were marched off to the Boxer general’s headquarters, a temple. Mr. Ogren was at once taken before the general, Mrs. Ogren sitting in the courtyard with her baby on her knee. She was suffering excruciating pain from a swollen eye, caused by the heat and glare, but her mental agony was no doubt greater, for in a few minutes her husband’s fate would be decided. She heard him answering the general’s questions, heard him pleading for their lives. Soon his voice was drowned in the sound of swords being sharpened, and a few minutes later she heard moans. Her husband was being tortured.

‘My feelings were indescribable,’ Mrs. Ogren writes. ’I could only pray God to cut short my husband’s sufferings, and fill his heart with peace, and give me courage to meet my lot without fear.’ Soon the moaning ceased, and she concluded that her husband was dead.

That night Mrs. Ogren was imprisoned in a tomb, and her baby, although he had nothing but water for his supper, slept soundly on the cold ground wrapped up in her gown. On the following morning she was given some rice and porridge, but before she had finished her meal the guard set her free. At once she decided to endeavour to reach Ta-ning, where other missionaries were imprisoned, preferring imprisonment among friends to the wandering life she had led for so long. Hearing that there were some Christians in a village on the other side of the river, she forded the stream narrowly escaping drowning, but only to find that she had been misinformed. The villagers jeered at her when she told her story, and asked for food for herself and baby. Departing from these inhospitable people, Mrs. Ogren lay down with her baby in the open. Both were hungry and shivering, and probably their trials would have ended that night in death, had not two native Christians found them, and led the way to a cave. Taking Mrs. Ogren to this place of shelter was, however, all that these men could do for her.

The following day, while trudging along towards Ta-ning Mrs. Ogren was again captured by Boxers, and would have been promptly killed, had not the headman of the village protected her, and, in spite of the anger of the mob, appointed an escort to accompany her to Ta-ning. It was a consolation to Mrs. Ogren to feel that she would soon be in the company of fellow missionaries; but to her sorrow she heard, on being placed in the Ta-ning prison, that they had been set free two days previously, and had started for the coast.

The prison in which Mrs. Ogren was now confined was a filthy place, swarming with vermin, but the warders were kind to her, and gave her food for herself and baby. Even the mandarin was moved when he heard of the sufferings she had undergone, but he did not release her. Sleep was impossible that night, but, at daybreak, as Mrs. Ogren lay dozing with her child beside her, she fancied she heard her name called. Jumping up she ran into the courtyard, and looked eagerly around.

‘Olivia!’ It was her husband’s voice, and there at the prison gate stood he whom she had thought dead. ‘Praise God! oh, praise God!’ she cried, her heart full of thankfulness; but he was too overcome with emotion to speak. Truly Mr. Ogren was in a terrible plight. His clothes hung in rags, and his head was bound with a piece of dirty, blood-stained linen. One of his ears was crushed, and there were ghastly wounds in his neck and shoulders. Even now he was not out of danger for as he stood at the gate Mrs. Ogren saw to her dismay a mob of infuriated Boxers rushing towards him, and it seemed as if he would be killed before her eyes. But the yamen servants protected him, and, later in the day, he was brought to his wife and child. The people had evidently taken pity on the poor missionaries, for they supplied Mrs. Ogren with some water to wash her husband’s wounds and a powder that would heal them. Moreover they supplied them with rice and mutton, and the secretary of the yamen’s wife sent them a bowl of meat soup.

When Mr. Ogren’s wounds had been dressed, and he had eaten the first good meal he had tasted for many days, he related to his wife all that had happened to him since they were separated by the Red Lantern Boxers.

Briefly his story was as follows: On being taken before the Boxer general he was bound to a block of wood, with his hands tied behind his back, and while in this helpless state the Boxers kicked him and beat him with sticks, cursing the name of Jesus, and shouting, ’Now ask your Jesus to deliver you.’ After thus torturing him they untied him from the block, and led him with his hands bound behind his back to the river-side, with the intention of killing him and casting his body into the water. Arriving there, they forced him down on his knees, and at a signal set upon him on all sides with swords and spears; but in their eagerness to slay him their weapons struck one against another, and instead of being killed instantly he received several wounds, which although severe did not disable him.

Suddenly he sprang to his feet, and rushing through the crowd jumped into the river. The Boxers, recovering from their surprise, rushed into the water after him, but remembering that his hands were tied behind his back they broke into jeering laughter, and waited to see him drown. But the brave, persecuted missionary managed to reach the other side in safety, and running inland was soon lost in the darkness. With his hands tied behind his back, and barefooted his shoes were lost in the river he tramped some fifteen miles before resting. Then he severed the cords which bound his hands by rubbing them against a rock until they were cut through. In the hills he found a native Christian, who not only supplied him with food, water and a little money, but took him to a hiding-place for the night. On the following morning Mr. Ogren started off again, with the intention of making his way back to Yung-ning, but before he had gone far he caught sight of Boxers scouring the country. Finding a cave he hid in it throughout the day, resuming his journey at night. After many hardships he met some natives, who informed him that his wife was in prison at Ta-ning, and at once he set off for that city, and entered it unnoticed by the Boxers. It was only when he had almost reached the yamen that they heard of his presence and rushed after him. How he escaped their fury has already been told.

Two days after Mr. Ogren had rejoined his wife the authorities sent them with an escort out of the city on two donkeys, the men who accompanied them being instructed to take them from city to city until they arrived at the coast. But on the second day the officials of a city through which they would have to pass warned them that they would not be allowed to enter it, and therefore the much-tried missionaries were taken back to Ta-ning, and placed once more in the loathsome prison. Here Mrs. Ogren endured fresh trials. Her baby, weakened by exposure and semi-starvation, became seriously ill, and for a time it seemed as if he would not recover. When, however, the danger was passed Mrs. Ogren’s second eye became terribly inflamed and caused her intense agony, and her husband becoming delirious with fever, had to be tied down to his bed. Nevertheless, she did not lose her faith, and the prisoners, aware of all she had endured, and was enduring, marvelled to see her praying to God. When, in the course of a few days, her husband began to gain strength they sang hymns, prayed, and read the Bible together.

A month later the Ogrens were told that in two days they were to be escorted to the coast, and the comforts which were at once provided for them made it clear that the authorities had received instructions to protect them and treat them well. New clothes were given them, and when they started on their journey, Mr. Ogren, being far too weak to ride, was carried with the baby in a sedan chair. Mrs. Ogren rode a horse. The officer and ten soldiers who comprised their escort treated them kindly, and their example was copied by the inhabitants of the villages through which they passed.

It was a welcome change, but it came too late. Nine days after leaving Ta-ning Mr. Ogren became very weak, and in spite of every attention died on the following morning, October 15, from the effects of the cruelty to which the Boxers had subjected him.

Can anyone imagine a more crushing sorrow for a woman than this which Mrs. Ogren had to bear? To lose her husband just when their long months of persecution were ended, and they were looking forward to happy days of peace, was indeed the hardest blow she had suffered. Her escort, touched to the heart by this sad ending to her troubles, did all that they could to comfort her.

It was not until February 16, that Mrs. Ogren and her two children a girl baby, healthy in every way, had been born at P’ing-yang-fu on December 6, arrived at Han-kow, where everyone strove to show kindness to the much-tried widow. Peter Alfred Ogren’s name is inscribed on the roll of Christian martyrs, and Olivia Ogren is a name that will ever stand high in the list of Christian heroines.

EDITH NATHAN, MAY NATHAN AND MARY HEAYSMAN,

MARTYRED BY BOXERS

When, in the year 1900, the anti-foreign feeling in China culminated in the massacre of defenceless men and women, the three missionaries whose names head this chapter were working in the city of Ta-ning. The inhabitants of this little city among the hills had always treated the missionaries with kindness, and it was not until Boxer emissaries arrived and stirred up the people by spreading untruths concerning the reason of the foreigners’ presence in China, that a change occurred in the behaviour of some of them.

The news of the Boxer rising was soon carried to the three ladies at Ta-ning; but it was not until July 12 that, at the earnest entreaty of the native pastor, Chang Chi-pen, they left the city to take shelter in one of the villages high up in the mountains. They started at 7.30 in the morning, and, travelling through the heat of the day, arrived at Muh-ien, where they were welcomed by the inhabitants, both native Christians and unconverted, with kindness. The knowledge that two lady missionaries had recently been murdered at Hsiao-i made the inhabitants of this hill-village anxious to show kindness to the three ladies who had come to seek shelter among them. They gave them food, which although not very palatable to Europeans was the best to be had, and provided them with lodging.

The following day was passed peacefully. Native friends came out from Ta-ning, bringing the comforting assurance that there were no signs of the Boxers coming in pursuit of the fugitives. They told the missionaries that eighteen warships belonging to various nations had arrived, but had gone aground near Fuh-Kien. The news of the arrival of these vessels naturally caused satisfaction to the three missionaries, and made them believe that the Boxer rising would soon be quelled.

Sunday, July 15, was a very happy day. Native Christians came in from the neighbouring villages, and the old pastor, Chang Chi-pen, had stolen out from Ta-ning. A service was held, and afterwards the missionaries were overwhelmed with invitations to take up their residence in various villages where they would be, they were assured, perfectly safe from the Boxers. ’It was really worth while being in such a position, to see how loyal the Christians were to us,’ May Nathan wrote in her diary. ’We are certainly in a better position than most other foreigners, being amongst such simple, loyal, God-fearing men.’

The following morning, soon after breakfast and prayers, a boy arrived from Ta-ning with the unpleasant news that 500 soldiers, who were in sympathy with the Boxers, had entered the city. The inhabitants at once urged the ladies to flee to a more distant village, and, taking up their Bibles, the missionaries started off quickly, with a native Christian for their guide. Rain fell heavily, and they arrived at their destination, Tong-men, wet to the skin. Food was given them, and in the afternoon they lay down and slept in a shed full of straw. The natives were determined, however, that they should have a better place in which to pass the night, and prepared a cave for them, spreading clean mats on the brick beds. But, late in the afternoon, a Christian, whom the missionaries had sent to Ta-ning to obtain information concerning the movements of the soldiers, returned with the pleasing news that there were none in the city, nor had any been there. Thankful that the alarm had been a false one, the three missionaries, one feeling somewhat unwell, trudged back to the Muh-ien, and refreshed themselves with tea. Throughout the day, or rather from breakfast until their return after dark, they had drunk nothing, tea, strange to say, being an unknown luxury in the place where they had sought temporary shelter.

On the following day soldiers did enter Ta-ning, but as an official despatch arrived almost at the same time instructing the yamen to protect foreigners, the three ladies decided not to remove from Muh-ien. This proclamation, a copy of which was brought to the missionaries, stated that all foreigners who remained quietly at their stations would be unmolested, and was a great improvement on the previous one, which ordered that foreigners were to be exterminated. The arrival of the allied forces had of course made the Chinese deem it advisable to withdraw the former proclamation.

Nothing occurred during the next two days to make the missionaries think that they were in immediate danger of being massacred. They spent the time in reading, sewing and talking to the sympathetic people who called on them. But on the third day they received the sad information that seven of their missionary friends had been murdered on July 16.

‘Oh, it is sad, sad,’ May Nathan wrote in her diary, ’such valuable lives; and who will be the next? Perhaps we shall, for why should we be spared when, for my own part, I know that the lives of those who have gone were so much more valuable than mine? I don’t want to die, and such a death; but if it comes, well, it will be for a little, and after, no more sorrow no pain. Day by day we are without knowledge of what news may come! Darling mother, don’t be anxious whatever news you may hear of me. It will be useless in the eyes of the world to come out here for a year, to be just getting on with the language and then to be cut off. Many will say, ‘Why did she go? Wasted life!’ Darling, No. Trust; God does His very best, and never makes mistakes. There are promises in the Word that the Lord will save His servants, and deliver them from the hands of evil men. Dear, it may be the deliverances will come through death, and His hands will receive, not the corruptible, but the incorruptible, glorified spirit.’

Early the following morning, just as they were about to begin breakfast, a friendly Chinaman arrived, with the warning, that a party of Boxers was coming up the mountains and searching everywhere on the way for them. Instant departure was imperative, so, snatching up their Bibles and a few biscuits, they hurried off higher up the mountains, halting only for a few minutes among some native Christians, to deliver three short prayers. Their Christian guide hurried them onward when the last prayer was finished, and soon they were climbing up steep, unfrequented sheep-paths. A ruined temple on the top of a mountain was to be their hiding-place, and when they reached it, tired out, they lay down on the ground with stones for their pillows.

How long they remained hiding in this mountain-top temple is unknown. Nor, as the last entry in May Nathan’s letter is dated July 23, do we know the sufferings which they underwent during the next three weeks. All that is certain is that, after wandering about the mountains, they were captured by the Boxers on August 12, and dragged to a temple near Lu-kia-yao, where, hungry and thirsty, they were compelled to spend the night surrounded by a mob of fiends. At day-break they were brought out and killed.

MARY RIGGS AND THE SIOUX RISING

Of all the stories that have been written for young people none have been more popular than those describing adventures among the Red Indians of North America. Fenimore Cooper’s books have delighted many generations of readers; but on much of the ground where that author’s famous characters lived, hunted, fought and died, big towns have sprung up, and the Indians, driven to live in reservations and to become, practically, pensioners of the Government, have been shorn of nearly all their greatness.

When the white man gained the ascendency in North America there came a better opportunity for missionary work, and notable among those who went to labour among the Indians was Mary Riggs, who, with her husband, worked for thirty-two years among the Sioux the Red Indians of Dakota. She was born on November 10, 1813, at Hawley, Massachusetts, her father being General Thomas Longley, who had fought in the war of 1812. Evidently he was not a wealthy man, for Mary began her education at the common town school, where she had for her schoolfellows the children of some of the poorest inhabitants. Later, she attended better schools, and at the age of sixteen became a teacher in one at Williamstown, Massachusetts. Her salary was only one dollar a week, but she gave her father the whole of her first quarter’s earnings, as a slight return for the money he had spent on her education. After a time she obtained a better appointment at a school at Bethlehem, and while there she met Stephen R. Riggs, a young man who was studying for the Presbyterian ministry. They became engaged, and a few months later Stephen Riggs told his future wife that he should like to become a missionary to the Red Indians, among whom work had recently been started. She expressed her willingness to accompany him, and, therefore, he at once offered himself to the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions, by whom he was accepted.

The young people were married on February 16, 1837, and about a fortnight later began their long journey to the Far West. Travelling was in those days, of course, very different from what it is now, and the young missionaries had to go by stage via New York, Philadelphia, and across the mountains to Pittsburg until they came to the Ohio. Snow, rain and mud made their journey by stage particularly unpleasant, but rest and comfort came on the steamer which bore them down the river.

On June 1, 1837, they arrived at Fort Snelling, near where the Minnesota joins the Mississippi. Here they remained until the beginning of September, living in a log-house, and learning the Dakota language with the help of a missionary who had been in the field for three years. From Fort Snelling they departed on September 5, 1837, for their destination Lac-qui-parle, travelling with two one-ox carts and a double wagon. On September 18 they arrived at the station to which they had been appointed, and received a hearty welcome from the two missionaries who had settled there some time before at the earnest request of a Lac-qui-parle trader. Lac-qui-parle was a small place, a mere collection of buffalo-skin tents, in which lived some 400 Red Indians. Mr. and Mrs. Riggs found a home in a log-house belonging to one of the other missionaries. Only one room could be spared them, and although it was but 10 feet wide and 18 feet long they made themselves comfortable. Mr. Riggs wrote as follows in his account of their work among the Sioux: ’This room we made our home for five winters. There were some hardships about such close quarters, but, all in all, Mary and I never enjoyed five winters better than those spent in that upper room. There our first three children were born. There we worked in acquiring the language. There we received our Dakota visitors. There I wrote, and re-wrote, my ever-growing dictionary. And there, with what help I could obtain, I prepared for the printer the greater portion of the New Testament in the Dakota language. It was a consecrated room.’

When Mrs. Riggs and her husband took possession of their one-room home they had much difficulty in making it comfortable, as they had been unable to bring on their furniture and domestic utensils. One person, however, lent them a kettle, another provided them with a pan, and bit by bit they collected the most necessary articles.

In the East missionaries have never experienced a difficulty in obtaining servants, but in Dakota neither male nor female Sioux would enter the Riggs’ service. Consequently Mrs. Riggs had to perform all the household duties. They bought a cow, but neither of them knew how to milk her. Both Mr. and Mrs. Rigg tried to perform the task, but not until the cow had experienced considerable discomfort did Mrs. Riggs become acquainted with the art. Washing clothes was a performance which filled the Sioux women with wonder, for they were in the habit of wearing their garments unwashed until they became too old to be worn any longer. Very soon they adopted the white woman’s custom, and, becoming fond of standing over the washing-tub, they took to washing Mrs. Riggs’ clothes as well as their own. For doing so they were, of course, paid.

The missionaries who had preceded the Riggs at Lac-qui-parle had not been very successful, if success be judged by the number of converts made. The native Church consisted of seven people, but before the Riggs had been there many months nine were added. Most of these were women, and it was they, and not the men, who assisted in the building of the first church at Lac-qui-parle.

When Mr. and Mrs. Riggs had worked for some time with success at Lac-qui-parle they removed to a new station Traverse des Sioux. But four years later the news reached them that since their departure from Lac-qui-parle there had been a sad falling back into heathenism among the converts, and they hurried back to their old station. Backsliders were reclaimed, and the missionary work carried on with increased energy.

But the missionaries had much to contend with. The Indians were hard pressed for food, and occasionally shot the mission cattle. Grog shops had been opened in the neighbourhood, and many of the Sioux bought drink when they should have purchased provisions. Excited by the fire-water, the Indians were frequently riotous, and, although they never assaulted the missionaries, it was clear that they might massacre them. On one occasion Mrs. Riggs had a very unpleasant experience. While her husband was away, twenty-six Sioux warriors paraded in front of mission house and fired their guns in the air. Mrs. Riggs was naturally somewhat frightened, until she found that they were not bent on murder and scalping. They had been searching for some Chippewas, but, having failed to find them, they fired their guns for practice.

Mr. and Mrs. Riggs continued their work with but few interruptions until 1862, when the Sioux rising occurred. It began in this way. The Sioux had assembled at Yellow Medicine to receive their annual allowance from the Government official. While distributing the allowance the official announced that the Great Father (President Lincoln) was anxious to make them all very happy, and would therefore give them, very shortly, a bonus. The Indians, having recently suffered greatly from want of provisions, were delighted at the prospect of an additional grant, and waited in the vicinity of the agency for its arrival. When it arrived the Sioux found to their dismay that it was a paltry gift of $2.50 a man. Their disgust and anger were increased by the knowledge that during the time they had been waiting for this insignificant present they could have earned from $50 to $100 by hunting. Unintentionally, a Government servant added fuel to the fire, and the Sioux, maddened, began their terrible massacre of the scattered settlers.

The news of the rising was carried quickly to the Riggs by friendly Indians, who urged them to hurry away as quickly as possible to a place of safety. But the missionaries were not disposed to consider the rising serious. The seizure of their horses and cows, and various other unfriendly actions performed by the people among whom they had lived for many years, soon, however, convinced them that it would be wise to depart. So gathering together a few belongings the little band of missionaries, some carrying children, crept away by night to an island in the Minnesota River. But on the following day the friendly Indians sent word to them that they were not safe on the island, and urged further flight.

Acting on this advice, the Christians waded the river and started on a tramp to the Hawk River, and on the way met other settlers, hurrying like themselves, to escape from the infuriated Sioux. Joining forces they proceeded on their journey, the women and children riding in two open carts, and soon met a wounded man, whom they tenderly lifted into one of the wagons. He was the sole survivor of a band of settlers which had been attacked by the Sioux.

Keeping a sharp look-out for the Indians, the fugitives continued their journey across the prairie. On the second night the rain fell heavily, and as the women and children could obtain no shelter in the open carts they crept under them. Wet and shivering, the fugitives found, when daylight came, that they had scarcely any food. Wood was collected, a fire built, and one of the animals killed and roasted.

A day later they were espied by an Indian, who fortunately proved to be friendly. He advised the fugitives to hurry to Fort Ridgely, and assured them that all the whites, with the exception of themselves, who had not taken shelter in the fort had been killed. Acting on his advice, they proceeded in the direction of the fort, but travelled very cautiously, for there were signs that Indians were in the neighbourhood.

One of the fugitives crept into the fort, but the news he brought back to his comrades in distress was not cheering; the fort was already overcrowded with women and children, and there was a very small force of soldiers to defend it. For five days they had been continually attacked by the enemy, and unless reinforcements arrived quickly the fort would probably be captured.

The Riggs and their fellow fugitives decided, therefore, to hurry on to some other place, fully aware of the danger they were running in travelling through a neighbourhood which abounded with the scalp-seeking Indians. One of Mary Riggs’ daughters wrote of this period in their flight: ’Every voice was hushed, except to give necessary orders; every eye swept the hills and valleys around; every ear was intensely strained for the faintest sound, expecting momentarily to hear the unearthly war-whoop, and see dusky forms with gleaming tomahawks uplifted.’

Hour after hour the tired and footsore fugitives trudged on without being discovered. Then four of their number, believing the danger was passed, bade adieu to the remainder of the party and proceeded in a different direction; but before they had gone far they were killed by the Indians. The Riggs and their party heard the fatal shots, but the tragedy was hidden from their sight by the bush. Fortunately, the proximity of the larger party of fugitives was not discovered by the Sioux; and at last, after a long, weary journey, the Riggs and their friends arrived at the town of Henderson, where their appearance occasioned considerable surprise, as their names had been included in the list of massacred.

Over a thousand settlers were killed during the rising, and there were many people who escaped death, but never recovered completely from the horrors of that terrible time. Mary Riggs returned with her husband to the work among the Sioux; but her health grew slowly worse, and when, in March, 1869, an ordinary cold developed into pneumonia she had not the strength to battle against it. She died on March 22, 1869, in Beloit, Wisconsin, worn out with her thirty-two years’ work in the mission-field.