Daughters of the Cross: or Womans Mission | Page 9

She saw him mirrored out in the starry canopy above her head, and in the liquid mountains which lifted up their forms, and anon sunk into peaceful rest beneath her feet.
On the 17th of June the Caravan reached Calcutta and anchored in the harbor. During the passage along the river the vessel was hailed by boatloads of naked natives, who brought on board cocoa nuts, bananas, and dates in great profusion; while others were seen on the banks reposing in the sun, or bathing in the waters of the Ganges, or diving beneath the surface for the shellfish which are found there; while beyond, the country was seen in all the beauty of verdure and delight, as ever and anon the Hindoo cottage and the white pagoda reared themselves amid the trees which grew upon the shoreside.
On the arrival of the missionaries at Calcutta, they repaired to the residence of Dr. Carey, where they found Mr. Marshman and Mr. Ward, all of whom were connected with the English Baptist mission station at Serampore. By invitation of Dr. Carey they visited the station, and were treated with the greatest kindness. But their hopes of usefulness were destined to be blasted. The East India Company was opposed to all attempts to Christianize the natives, and threw all their influence against the divine cause of missions. As soon as the government became apprised of the object of Mr. Newell and his associates, orders were issued for them to leave the country immediately. After a vast deal of parleying with the civil powers, permission was obtained to reside at the Isle of France; and on the 4th of August, 1812, Mr. and Mrs. Newell took passage on board the Gillespie for that place. Sorrow and distress now began to roll upon them in deep, sweeping waves. The crew of the vessel were profane and irreligious, the weather boisterous and unpleasant; while the spirits of the missionaries themselves were at a low ebb. For some time no progress was made, and the frown of Providence seemed to rest upon them. What purpose God had in view in surrounding them with such trials, they knew not; but with humble faith in all his allotments they bore submissively, but sadly, this new trial of their devotion. The delicate state of Mrs. Newell's health rendered their sorrows doubly annoying to her sensitive and refined mind. She shrunk from a contact with the rude beings around her, and in the society of her husband alone found enjoyment; and even this was not free from interruption. The morning and evening prayer was disturbed by the profane jest or the blasphemous ribaldry of God-hating men, who viewed our missionaries as deluded fanatics, justly deserving the contempt of all. Even the respect due to the weaker sex was not wholly observed; and the pious woman was often compelled to listen to expressions which would have brought a blush to the cheek of the strong man. Sickness and sorrow found but little sympathy; and the days seemed long and tedious, even to one who had not learned to complain of the wise discipline of a Father's hand.
While on this voyage, about three weeks before their arrival at the place of destination, she gave birth to a daughter, and became a mother. The sweet infant lived but five days; "blushed into life and died." The day before its death, the rite of the church, by which the little stranger into this cold world was given to God, was performed. They called her by the mother's name, and watched over her until she breathed her last breath upon her mother's bosom, and then sunk the form into the cold waters of the deep. As the corpse was lowered down over the side of the vessel, holy voices sung the sweet and tender hymn,--
"So fades the lovely, blooming flower, Frail, smiling solace of an hour; So soon our transient comforts fly, And pleasures only bloom to die."
Soon after the death of her babe, Mrs. Newell discovered symptoms of the malady which soon carried her to an untimely grave. From the first, she had no hope of recovery. Several of her friends had died of the same disease; and when it fastened itself upon her system, she knew that her time had come. The slow, wasting consumption was on her frame, and her days were nearly run out. But the approach of death she viewed with perfect composure. Though far from home, far from all the endeared scenes of youth, from the roof which sheltered her in infancy, from the mother whose gentle hand guided her up to womanhood, she was tranquil. Death was only a dark shadow, which retreated before her as she advanced, and left her standing in the light of a cloudless day.
While on