As soon as I was able to travel we hurried back to Hai Ju and Seoul, for word had come, bringing the sad news of the death of Mr. Gifford in one of the country villages about sixty miles from Seoul. He had gone alone with a Korean helper, and after a brief illness had passed away suddenly at night, probably scarcely aware that he was seriously ill. He was loved by all the Koreans, who could not fail to recognize his spirituality and consecration. Mrs. Gifford was then in an extremely weak state, having never recovered her strength after a violent attack of Asiatic dysentery the preceding summer. She had just begun to improve a little, and we to hope that at last we might look for her return to perfect health. A native messenger, all unannounced, rushed into her presence and told her that her husband was dead. She never saw his face again, or had the sad comfort of a message, or one of these little souvenirs which women prize and console their aching hearts withal. She wilted like a lily, rudely snapped from the stem. When the first shock was over and her mind became a little composed, several days later, after friends had left her for a peaceful soothing night’s rest, a Korean servant entered the room and told her that her husband had been neglected and slighted in his last illness, and had died alone quite uncared for. She never rallied from this blow. Sweet, calm, uncomplaining, she grew weaker and weaker, and only one month after her beloved husband passed away her gentle spirit followed. They had been extremely congenial and well suited, and it seemed a gracious providence that they were so soon reunited. Mrs. Gifford was a woman greatly beloved by every one, and one of the most effective and consecrated women workers on the field, with a modest unassuming quiet spirit, but with untiring devotion and self-effacement. She worked here ten years for Christ. The Koreans, whom she had loved so well and served so faithfully, bore her to her grave and laid her beside her husband. We all felt that the loss to the work was beyond expression, and from a human view point irreparable. In the following fall we visited Pyeng Yang for the first time since our wedding journey in 1889. The annual meeting of all the mission (now grown quite extensive) for the discussion and settlement of plans for work for the coming year was to be held there; so we all risked our lives on a crazy little steamer, which, however, contrary to probabilities, landed us safely not far from our destination.