, pain and death
Are felt and _feared_ no more."

But to her aged parents--to the little flock to whom she was as the
tenderest mother--to the literary world, which enjoyed the ripe fruits
of her genius--to the Christian world, of which she was a shining
ornament and glory, her loss is irreparable. In her own inimitable
words, we may exclaim:

"Weep, ye bereaved! a dearer head
Ne'er left the pillowing breast;
The good, the pure, the lovely fled,
When mingling with the shadowy dead
She meekly went to rest.

"Angels, rejoice! another string
Has caught the strains above,
Rejoice, rejoice! a new-fledged wing
Around the throne is hovering,
In sweet, glad, wondering love."

But though one of the sweet fountains that well up here and there in our
desert world, and surround themselves with greenness, and beauty, and
life, has been exhaled to heaven, still it is refreshing to know that
its streams, which made glad so many hearts, have not perished, for they
were of "living water, springing up" into immortality. The writer is
lost to us; her writings remain. By them "she being dead yet speaketh,"
and through them, whensoever we will, she may talk with us.

Mrs. Judson's final malady was consumption, but for several years her
health had been feeble. One who saw her just before she left America
says: "Looking upon her, we saw at once that it was a spirit which had
already outworn its frame--a slight, pale, delicate, and transparent
creature, every thought and feeling shining through, and every word and
movement tremulous with fragility. * * * We said farewell with no
thought that she would ever return."

From her voyage across the ocean she suffered less than was apprehended,
and for a time she found the climate of India rather congenial than
otherwise to her constitution. Her short residence at Rangoon, whither
her husband removed with his family soon after reaching Burmah, was
indeed a period of great suffering, and would have given a shock to a
much hardier constitution. Her narrative of their sufferings there,
contained in the life of her husband, by Dr. Wayland, excites our wonder
that she survived them. But after their removal to Maulmain, she was
restored to comparative health.

A letter from her husband, written in the latter part of 1848, when her
little Emily Frances, her "bird," was one year old, gives a glowing
picture of their happiness and their labors.