"Such is a single scene from this melancholy record of missionary suffering. History has not recorded; poetry itself has seldom portrayed, a more affecting exhibition of Christian fortitude, of female heroism, and all the noble and generous qualities which constitute the dignity and glory of woman. In the midst of sickness and danger, and every calamity which can crush the human heart, she presented a character equal to the sternest trial, and an address and fertility of resources which gave her an ascendency over the minds of her most cruel enemies, and alone saved the missionaries and their fellow captives from the terrible doom which constantly awaited them. Day after day and amid the lonely hours of night was she employed in conciliating the favor of their keepers, and in devising plans for their release, or the alleviation of their captivity. Sometimes, she confesses, her thoughts would wander for a brief interval to America and the beloved friends of her better days; 'but for nearly a year and a half, so entirely engrossed was every thought with present scenes and sufferings, that she seldom reflected on a single occurrence of her former life, or recollected that she had a friend in existence out of Ava.'"[6] [6] Gammell. When peace was declared between the two powers, by the terms of negotiation, the European prisoners were all released; and thus closed the long and brutal incarceration of the missionaries. Mr. and Mrs. Judson immediately departed for Rangoon. They soon removed to Amherst, a new town on the Salwen or Martaban river. After having established a mission there, Mr. Judson had occasion to visit Ava. He started on the fifth of July, 1826, leaving his wife and infant daughter in the care of kind friends. He was detained at the Capital longer than he had anticipated; and before he returned he received the painful intelligence that his wife was dead. "A remittent fever had settled on her constitution, already enfeebled by suffering and disease, and she died on the twenty-fourth of October, 1826, amid the universal sorrow, alike of the English residents at Amherst and of the native Christians who had gathered around her at her new home. Her infant daughter died a few weeks afterwards, and side by side they were laid to rest, under a large hopia tree a few rods from the house where she had resided. Two marble stones, procured by the contributions of several female friends in her native land, are the humble memorial that marks the spot where sleeps one whose "name will be remembered in the churches of Burmah, in future times, when the pagodas of Gaudama shall have fallen; when the spires of Christian temples shall gleam along the waters of the Irrawaddy and the Salwen: and when the 'Golden City' shall have lifted up her gates to let the King of Glory in." A CHRISTIAN WOMAN IN THE HOUR OF DANGER.