PIONEERS AND FIRST-FRUITS.

JUDSON IN BURMAH.

ADONIRAM JUDSON was born in Massachusetts, America, August 9, 1788. His father, who was a minister, was a vigorous-minded man, but too anxious that his children should be distinguished and clever. And no doubt his eldest son was clever. When hardly able to write, he saw an enigma in a newspaper, with a challenge to any one who could solve it. Adoniram wrote out the answer, addressed it to the editor, and put it in the post-office. Suspecting that it was some mischievous prank of the minister's son, the postmaster took the letter to his father. The old man was so much struck with the solution that next morning he said, "Here is a book of riddles I have bought for you. It is a very common one; but as soon as you have solved all that it contains you shall have more difficult books." And then patting him on the head with more than usual affection, the old man added, "You are a very acute boy, Adoniram, and I expect you to become a great man." The book of riddles turned out to be a book of arithmetic, and although a little disappointed at first, the young student set to work with such ardour that he soon gained a reputation for his attainments in the science of numbers. Such was the fame of the little prodigy, that before he was ten years of age a gentleman sent him a problem, with the offer of a dollar if he could find out a solution. For a whole day he shut himself up in his chamber, and pondered it without success. Next day his little brother was taken ill, and he was sent for to amuse the invalid. Whilst slowly piling up a cob-castle, "That's it! I've got it!" he exclaimed, as he sent the materials

rolling over the floor, and ran off to his own room to write out the calculation. The dollar was won, and his fame was

established.

John Foster was right when to a friend, congratulating him on the birth of a son, he said, "If the fellow turns out good, I shall not so much mind about his being extra clever. It is goodness that the world is wretched for wanting, and if all were good none would need to be able." The elder Judson had nearly destroyed his first-born in his excessive desire to see him distinguished. The boy grew conceited, unamiable, and absurdly ambitious. He had taken "fire into his bosom," and he was "burned." There was nothing in the way of earthly eminence, however extravagant, to which he did not inwardly aspire; and before he was fifteen his day-dreams represented himself as the most illustrious poet or statesman of the future America. But then the damping thought crept in,-Suppose he reached the pinnacle, could he retain it for ever? The sages and heroes, whose renown made him almost mad with hopeless rivalry, had long since gone down to the dust, and a hundred years hereafter what comfort would it be though the world were ringing with his fame, and he himself not here to enjoy the glory?

He was sent to college. It was early in this century when a flood of free-thinking swept over America. In the class above Judson was a young man of the name of E—, brilliant, witty, and popular, but a determined Deist. Between him and the minister's son there sprang up a close intimacy, which ended in the latter becoming, in his own opinion at least, as great a sceptic as his friend. He told his parents that he had ceased to believe in Christianity. His father's stern reproofs and arguments were hailstones on adamant; but his mother's tears penetrated his conscience like drops of fire, and could not be forgotten. He was twenty years of age. He had joined a company of players

at New York, and now, in order to see the world, he set out on a solitary tour. One night he stopped at a country inn. Lighting him to his room, the landlord mentioned that he had been obliged to place him next door to a young man who was exceedingly ill, in all probability dying, but he hoped that it would occasion him no uneasiness. Judson assured him that, beyond pity for the poor sick man, he should have no feeling whatever. Still the night proved a restless one. Sounds came from the sick chamber-sometimes the movements of the watchers, sometimes the groans of the sufferer-and the young traveller could not sleep. Just through that wall, he thought, there is an immortal spirit about to pass into eternity, and is he prepared? And then he thought, "For shame of my shallow philosophy! What would E- so intellectual and clear-headed, think of this boyish weakness?" And then he tried to sleep; but still the picture of the dying man rose up to his imagination. He was a young man," and the young student felt compelled to place himself on his neighbour's dying bed, and he could not help fancying what, in such circumstances, would be his thoughts. But the morning dawned, and in the pleasant daylight his "superstitious illusions" fled away. When he came down-stairs he inquired of the landlord how his fellow-lodger had passed the night. "He is dead," was the answer. "Dead!" "Yes; he is gone, poor fellow ! The doctor said he would probably not survive the night." "Do you know who he was ?" Oh, yes; it was a young man from Providence College-a very fine fellow; his name was E" Judson was completely stunned. Hours passed before he could quit the house; but when he did resume his journey, the words "Dead! lost! lost!" were continually ringing in his cars. He now knew the religion of the Bible to be true; his godless spirit was in despair; and as he turned his horse's head towards Plymouth, he rode

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back to his father's house a crushed and crest-fallen penitent.

The belief of the Gospel, to which he at last attained, gave him peace with God. His projects of literary and political ambition had passed away like guilty dreams, and he asked no other question than the one which ought to be supreme with every monument of mercy, "Lord, what wouldst thou have me to do?" He pursued his studies for the Christian ministry, and the perusal of Buchanan's "Star in the East" turned his thoughts to the heathen. In 1810 a Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions was formed by the Associated Churches of Massachusetts, and this Board undertook to send Mr. Judson, Mr. Newell, and some others, to India. The spirit in which he went will be best understood from the following letter to the lady who was to share his toils and dangers, written on the first day of 1811:—

“It is with the utmost sincerity, and with my whole heart, that I wish you, my love, a happy new year. May it be a year in which your walk will be close with God; your frame calm and serene; and the road that leads you to the Lamb marked with purer light. May it be a year in which you will have more largely the spirit of Christ, be raised above sublunary things, and be willing to be disposed of in this world just as God shall please. If our lives are preserved and our attempt prospered, we shall next new year's day be in India, and perhaps wish each other a happy new year in the uncouth dialect of Hindostan or Burmah. We shall no more see our kind friends around us, or enjoy the conveniences of civilised life, or go to the house of God with those that keep holy day; but swarthy countenances will everywhere meet our eye, the jargon of an unknown tongue will assail our ears, and we shall witness the assembling of the heathen to worship idol gods. We shall be weary of the world, and wish for wings like a dove, that we may fly away and be at rest.' We shall probably experience seasons when we shall be 'exceedingly sorrowful, even unto death.' We shall see many dreary, disconsolate hours, and feel a sinking of spirits, anguish of mind, of which now we can form little conception. Oh, we shall wish to lie down and die.”