More than any thing else did our subject miss the privileges of the Sabbath. The daughter of a clergyman, she had been reared beneath the shadow of the Christian temple, and taught from infancy to love and revere the day of rest. And though upon shipboard she heard the song of praise, the solemn prayer, and the interesting discourse from the same lips which led the devotions at home, yet the church-going bell, the pealing organ, and the countenances of early associates were not found on the ocean. All was strange and wild as the tempest itself.
On the Sabbath day, November 5th, the eyes of the voyagers were greeted with a view of that noble monument which rises from the blue waters of the Mediterranean-the Rock of Gibraltar. They looked upon it as the rising sun glanced lines of light all around it and painted it with gorgeous beauty, making even its very barrenness appear, attractive.
Whoever has sailed along the shores of the Mediterranean Sea will remember the many objects of interest which present themselves on every side. There are seen convents which have stood for ages, braving change and time, from whose turrets the vesper bell has sounded forth over the waters, calling the ghostly father and the young recluse from the cell and the cloister to mingle in the devotions imposed by the Holy Mother Church; castles frowning from bare and beaten rocks, reminding one of other days, when feudal strife and knightly warfare demanded such monuments of barbarism to prove that "might makes right;" beautiful gondolas, with richly-dressed Orientals, manned with slaves, and propelled by the broad, flat paddle, reminding one of the songs which cast their witchery around the knights of yore, and from the blue bosom of the sea gave back the melodious echo; the highlands, clad in beauty and arrayed in all the verdure of perpetual summer; villas standing amid groves of trees in full blossom, and cultivated slopes which extend to the very billows of the sea; ruined temples, monasteries, convents, cathedrals, standing like some relics of the past, fit emblems of the decaying faith once taught within them.
About the 1st of December, the Stamboul, with its precious freight, arrived at Smyrna; and when the new year with all its hallowed emotions came, they were comfortably located in their new home, surrounded with every circumstance to make them happy. Their home stood near the sea shore, and from its verandas they could look far out upon the waters and behold the passing vessels as on the busy voyage they sped to and fro. In the garden sweet roses bloomed, and the orange and lemon gave delicious fragrance and more delicious fruit.
They here found the former associates of Mr. Van Lennep, who received them with the greatest kindness; and their residence in Smyrna soon became delightfully pleasant. One who loved the wonders of Nature, and could appreciate the goodness of God in the works of his hands, the scenes of natural beauty every where spread out, could not fail to be attracted by so many displays of divine wisdom and power. To go from our cold, austere climate, our bare fields and rock-ribbed mountains, to dwell amid the luxurious vineyards and gardens of the south of Europe, seems like being transported from a cheerless desert to a blooming paradise. Our beautiful things are not connected with our climate or our unproductive fields, but with our free institutions, our systems of education, our public morality, our well-regulated government, our well-administered laws, and the industry, intelligence, and religious habits of the people. Our fields and vineyards, our rich groves and beautiful scenes, are our churches, our schools, our colleges, our asylums for the poor, for the blind, for the insane. These constitute the pride and glory of the land of the Pilgrims. The glory of the East arises from the natural beauty of the country; from the adornments of Nature; from the skill and care of God.
Early in August, 1844, she was afflicted with dysentery, which increased upon, her gradually until all hope of life was taken away. Finding that she could not live, she gave her time to meditation and prayer. The idea of leaving earth and parting with her husband, and being buried in a strange land, though terrible in some respects, did not alarm her. She wished to live for her husband, for Jesus, for the souls of sinners; but if it was the will of God she was ready—ready to die at anytime and be buried in any place. During her sickness, her husband, alarmed at the prospect of his loss, used all means to restore her wasting health; he remained by her bedside, and with the most tender care endeavored to mitigate her sorrows and lift her soul above the pains of sickness. He could not endure the idea of a separation at the moment when she seemed most useful and best prepared to labor with success. He had taken her from home, from loved scenes, to die amid strangers; and the responsibility of his position made him, in that period of anguish, a most tender nurse and a most faithful watcher.
Her last hours were spent in a manner which gave the brightest evidence of her future bliss to all who saw her. With a firm hope in the merits of the crucified One, she descended into the waters of the dark, deep Jordan, whose billows broke upon the shores of human life with such melancholy moanings. There was no fear; her soul was stayed on God; and a divine hand lifted her heart in the last conflict.
About one o'clock, September 27, she breathed her last, and the spirit took its everlasting flight from the abodes of flesh and the tenements of men. Her last words were, "O, how happy!" and earth was exchanged for heaven. She felt the tender and confiding spirit of that beautiful and touching hymn of Wesley, and repeated it with dying voice and a countenance all radiant with smiles:—
"Jesus, lover of my soul,
Let me to thy bosom fly."