to contemplate such an example, to shed tears of gratitude over such a
tomb. The name we pronounce deserves to be recorded in a more conspicuous
place in the book of fame than any name which has gathered gory laurels on
the wet field of carnage; she deserves a higher monument than rises over
the resting-place of earth's proudest conqueror--a monument not of marble,
nor of brass, nor of gold, but one which shall lift its summit until a halo
of eternal light shall gather about it and gild it with the beams of
glory. And such a monument she has. When the clouds and mists of earth are
dissipated we shall see it, sinking its base deep as the darkness of a
world of heathenism, and lifting its summit high as the throne of God.

Harriet Newell was the great proto-martyr of American missions. She fell
wounded by death in the very vestibule of the sacred cause. Her memory
belongs not to the body of men who sent her forth, not to the denomination
to whose creed she had subscribed, but to the church--to the cause of
missions. With the torch of Truth in her hand she led the way down into a
valley of darkness, through which many have followed. Her work was short,
her toil soon ended; but she fell, cheering, by her dying words and her
high example, the missionaries of all coming time. She was the first, but
not the only martyr. Heathen lands are dotted over with the graves of
fallen Christians; missionary women sleep on almost every shore; and the
bones of some are whitening in the fathomless depths of the ocean.

Never will the influence of the devoted woman whose life and death are here
portrayed be estimated properly until the light of an eternal day shall
shine on all the actions of men. We are to measure her glory, not by what
she suffered, for others have suffered more than she did. But we must
remember that she went out when the missionary enterprise was in its
infancy--when even the best of men looked upon it with suspicion. The tide
of opposition she dared to stem; and with no example, no predecessor from