A Distant Shore Read Online Free PDF

foreigners.”
    Isobel felt a flutter of fear for her brother, as well as a shaft of sympathy for her sister-in-law. She squeezed Margaret’s hand. “I shall pray for him, then,” she said, not knowing what else she could say—or do—and Margaret flashed her a grateful smile.
    “Thank you. And I’m sure Mr. Judson shall banish my self-pity when he begins to speak. He has had a far worse time of it than you or I. A widower, with seven children to feed now!”
    Just then Dr. Sharp ascended the pulpit to introduce Adoniram Judson. The crowd fell to a hush. Isobel listened to Dr. Sharp with only half an ear; her mind was still mulling over Margaret’s news. Henry going all the way to China! She suppressed a shiver of apprehension, her program clutched tightly in one gloved hand. It was so very far, and yet Mr. Judson had gone all the way to Burma, and brought his wife there as well...
    She turned back to the pulpit as Judson began to speak, his voice a low, unpleasing rasp. She tried to suppress her expression of shock at his awkward manner of speech and husky whisper; she’d heard that a pulmonary condition kept him from speaking at a normal volume, and his many years speaking a foreign tongue made English awkward to him, yet the result made for a less than an engaging speaker. In fact, it was so difficult to understand or even hear him that a third party had to “translate”, repeating his utterances in a booming voice to the crowd at large.
    Despite this difficulty, Isobel soon found she was entranced by the words Adoniram Judson communicated to his audience. He was an unprepossessing figure, in his mid-forties although he looked much older, and in exceedingly delicate heath. Despite these detractions, there could be no denying or dimming the passion that shone in his eyes.
    “Through the mercy of God I am permitted to stand before you this evening, a pensioner of your bounty,” Adoniram’s aide intoned. “I desire to thank you for all your sympathy and aid, and I pray God’s blessing to rest upon you... all that has been done in Burma has been by the churches, through the feeble and unworthy instrumentality of myself and my brethren...”
    As he spoke of his trials in Burma, and all that he had accomplished there, remaining humble throughout, Isobel found herself transported to a place far from the stifling confines of Boston society. Imagine travelling so far on a ship, and seeing so many wondrous and even terrible things! Fancy having the freedom to undertake such an essential and eternal work, far more important than her own feeble efforts at the First School.
    For one fierce moment, Isobel envied her brother and Adoniram and all the men—and women—who had adventured far beyond Boston and her own limited experience. They, at least, had seen and done things she never would. They could make their own choices, be captains of their own souls. The romance of it was better than anything she’d read in one of her novels.
    The crowd began to applaud, and with a ripple of surprise Isobel realized Mr. Judson’s address was over, and she’d only heard half of it.
    “That really was quite stirring,” Margaret said as she gathered her gloves and reticule. “The poor man has been beaten down by this life, yet he is still triumphant. May we all have his fortitude!”
    “Quite so,” Isobel murmured. Her mind was still spinning, and it was cast into further disarray when a missionary worker at the doors of the church thrust a pamphlet towards her.
    She read the large, black type: Support Missions . Instinctively she reached for her reticule, where she had a few coins, only to check herself at the next line: Give your Time, Talent, and Treasure: Become A Missionary Yourself .
    A strange, shivery sensation passed over her, making her heart leap within her chest in a most peculiar way.
    “The man really is a saint,” Margaret murmured. “They do call him the Saint of Burma, you know.” She glanced at Isobel, and