“You perceive that I have no account whatever of the state of her mind, in view of death and eternity, or of her wishes concerning her darling babe, whom she loved most intensely. I hope to glean some information on these points from the physician who attended her, and the native converts who must have been occasionally present. “I will not trouble you, my dear mother, with an account of my own private feelings—the bitter, heart-rending anguish, which for some days would admit of no mitigation, and the comfort which the Gospel subsequently afforded—the Gospel of Jesus Christ, which brings life and immortality to light. Blessed assurance—and let us apply it afresh to our hearts,—that, while I am writing and you perusing these lines, her spirit is resting and rejoicing in the heavenly paradise,— “‘Where glories shine, and pleasures roll That charm, delight, transport the soul; And every panting wish shall be Possessed of boundless bliss in Thee.’ And there, my dear mother, we also shall soon be, uniting and participating in the felicities of heaven with her for whom we now mourn. ‘Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus.’” “AMHERST, _February_ 4, 1827. “Amid the desolation that death has made, I take up my pen once more to address the mother of my beloved Ann. I am sitting in the house she built, in the room where she breathed her last, and at a window from which I see the tree that stands at the head of her grave, and the top of the ‘small rude fence’ which they have put up ‘to protect it from incautious intrusion.’ “Mr. and Mrs. Wade are living in the house, having arrived here about a month after Ann’s death; and Mrs. Wade has taken charge of my poor motherless Maria. I was unable to get any accounts of the child at Rangoon; and it was only on my arriving here, the 24th ultimo, that I learned she was still alive. Mr. Wade met me at the landing-place, and as I passed on to the house one and another of the native Christians came out, and when they saw me they began to weep. At length we reached the house; and I almost expected to see my love coming out to meet me, as usual. But no; I saw only in the arms of Mrs. Wade a poor little puny child, who could not recognize her weeping father, and from whose infant mind had long been erased all recollection of the mother who had loved her so much. “She turned away from me in alarm, and I, obliged to seek comfort elsewhere, found my way to the grave. But who ever obtained comfort there? Thence I went to the house in which I left her, and looked at the spot where we last knelt in prayer and where we exchanged the parting kiss. “The doctor who attended her has removed to another station, and the only information I can obtain is such as the native Christians are able to communicate.