idea of the true God and the way of salvation by
Christ, since their present ideas of Deity are so very low." "They have
not the least idea of a Divinity who is eternal, without beginning or
end. All their deities have been through the several grades of
creatures, from a fowl to a God...." "They know of no other atonement
for sin, than offerings to their priests or their pagodas."

She goes on to mention some instances of serious inquiry among the
people, which from time to time had raised their hopes, only to dash
them again by the relapse of the inquirers into indifference; but adds
"These things do not discourage us. It is God alone who can effectually
impress the mind with divine truths; and though seed may lie buried long
in the dust, yet at some future period it may spring up and bear fruit
to the glory of God."

In this letter she gives an account of the recall of the Viceroy from
Rangoon to Ava, the imperial residence, and the consequent confusion of
the people, ten thousand of whom accompanied him to Ava. She regretted
his departure, as both he and his lady had ever treated her with
civility and kindness. The newly appointed Viceroy was a stranger, and
might not be equally kind to them.

She says, "Oh how I long to visit Bradford; to spend a few evenings by
your firesides, in telling you what I have seen and heard. Alas! _we_
have no fireside, no social circle. We are still alone in this miserable
country, surrounded by thousands ignorant of the true God." ... "But we
still feel happy in our employment, and have reason to thank God that he
has brought us here. We do hope to live to see the Scriptures translated
into the Burman language, and a church formed from among these
idolaters."

Her next letter details "with all the pathos of a mother's sorrow," a
new trial to which they were called by Him, who though "clouds and
darkness are about him" yet "doeth all things well."

"_May 7th, 1816._--My dear Parents,--Little did I think when I wrote
you last, that my next letter would be filled with the melancholy
subject upon which I must now write. Death, regardless of our lonely
situation has entered our dwelling, and made one of the happiest of
families wretched. Our little Roger Williams, our only little darling
boy, was three days ago laid in the silent grave. Eight months we
enjoyed the precious little gift, in which time he had so completely
entwined himself around his parents' hearts that his existence see