hire, in 1803, her parents being Ralph and
Abiah Hall. They were refined and well-educated, but by no means
wealthy, and Sarah would have left school very young, had not the
head-mistress, seeing that she was a clever child, retained her as
pupil teacher. Quiet, gentle, and caring little for the amusements of
girls of her own age, her chief pleasure was in composing verse, much
of which is still in existence. The following lines are from her
'Versification of David's lament over Saul and Jonathan,' which was
written when she was thirteen years of age:--

The beauty of Israel for ever is fled,
And low lie the noble and strong:
Ye daughters of music, encircle the dead
And chant the funereal song.
Oh, never let Gath know their sorrowful doom,
Nor Askelon hear of their fate;
Their daughters would scoff while we lay in the tomb,
The relics of Israel's great.

At an early age, as already stated, she expressed a wish to be a
missionary to the heathen, and the wish grew stronger with increasing
years. But suddenly it became evident to her that there was plenty of
work waiting for her close at hand. 'Sinners perishing all around me,'
she wrote in her journal, 'and I almost panting to tell the far heathen
of Christ! Surely this is wrong. I will no longer indulge the vain,
foolish wish, but endeavour to be useful in the position where
Providence has placed me. I can pray for deluded idolaters and for
those who labour among them, and this is a privilege indeed.' She
began at once to take an active part in local mission work; but while
thus employed her interest in foreign missions did not diminish, and
the death of the two young missionaries, Wheelock and Colman, who went
to Burma to assist Mr. Judson, made a deep impression on her.
Wheelock, while delirious from fever, jumped into the sea and was
drowned, and Colman, after a time, died at Arracan from the effects of
the unhealthy climate. On hearing of Colman's death she wrote 'Lines
on the death of Colman,' the first verse of which is:--

'Tis the voice of deep sorrow from India's shore,
The flower of our Churches is withered and dead,
The gem that shone brightly will sparkle no more,
And the tears of the Christian profusely are shed.
Two youths of Columbia, with hearts glowing warm,
Embarked on the billows far distant to rove,
To bear to the nations all wrapped in thick gloom,
The lamp of the Gospel--the message of love.
But Wh