of
receiving him, and every one wanted to meet him. Places of worship where
he was to preach were thronged, and every public meeting where he was
expected to speak was fully attended; but all this fervour of welcome was
a distress to him, his affection of the throat made oratory painful and
often impossible, and the mere going silently to an evening assembly so
excited his nerves that he could not sleep for the whole night after. Any
sort of display was misery to him; he could not bear to sit still and
hear the usual laudation of his achievements; and, when distinguished and
excellent men were introduced to him, he received them with chilling
shyness and coldness, too humble to believe that it was for his goodness
and greatness that they sought to know him, but fancying it was out of
mere curiosity.

His whole desire was to get back to his work and escape from American
notoriety, and, disregarding all representations that longer residence in
the north might confirm his health, he intended to seize the first
opportunity of returning to Moulmein. But a wife was almost a necessity
both to himself and his mission, and even now, at his mature age and
broken health, he was able to win a woman of qualities almost if not
quite equal to those of the Ann and Sarah who had gone before her.

Emily Chubbuck, born in 1817, was the daughter of parents of the Baptist
persuasion, living in the State of New York. She was the fifth child of
a large family in such poor circumstances that, when she was only eleven
years old, she was sent to work at a woollen factory, where her
recollections were only of "noise and filth, bleeding hands and aching
feet, and a very sad heart;" but happily for her, the frost stopped the
works during the winter months, and she was able to go to school; and,
after two years, the family removed to a country farm. They were all
very delicate, and her elder sisters were one after the other slowly
dying of decline. This, with their "conversions" and baptisms, deepened
Emily's longing to give the tokens required by her sect for Christian
membership, but they came slowly and tardily with her, and she quaintly
told how one day she was addressed by one of the congregation whose
prayers had been asked for her, "What! this little girl not converted
yet? How do you suppose we can waste any more time in praying for you?"
Her intelligence was very great, and in 1832, when her mother wanted her
to become a milliner,