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Principles of Animal Physiology 3rd Edition Moyes Test Bank

Principles of Animal Physiology, 3e (Moyes/Schulte)

Chapter 2 Physiological Evolution of Animals

1) Which of the following is a parasitic protist that causes malaria?

A) Paramecium
B) slime mould
C) Platyzoa
D) Plasmodium
Answer: D
Page ref: 22

2) Which of the following characteristics apply to all protists?

A) They are animal-like.
B) They can photosynthesize.
C) They have a nucleus.
D) They have a cell wall.
Answer: C
Page ref: 22

3) Which protist is best described by its lifestyle?

A) Euglena have features of animals and fungi.
B) Paramecium are ciliated hunters.
C) Plasmodium are free-living animal-like protists.
D) Amoebas are sedentary photosynthetic protists.
Answer: B
Page ref: 22

4) Which of the following pairs is correctly matched?

A) Choanoflagellates and Cnidarians
B) Paramecium and ciliated herbivore
C) ancestors of fungi and plants with no cell walls
D) choanocytes and flagellated cells in sponges
Answer: D
Page ref: 23

5) If multicellular organisms have distinct cell types, this means that

A) the different cell types express different genes.
B) each cell can be different.
C) some of the organism’s cells will grow larger over time.
D) some cells will have cell walls and others won’t.
Answer: A
Page ref: 23

6) In fungi and plants

A) the cell wall controls osmotic swelling.
B) the sodium-potassium pump regulates osmotic balance.
C) chemical messengers are not used to communicate.
D) collagen is used to build tissues.

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 Principles of Animal Physiology, 3e (Moyes/Schulte)

Answer: A
Page ref: 23-24

7) All animals
A) eat other animals.
B) are multicellular.
C) reproduce sexually.
D) are triploblastic.
Answer: B
Page ref: 24

8) The three cell types found in sponges are

A) cnidocytes, mesenchyme cells, and nematocyst cells.
B) choanocytes, mesenchyme cells, and pinacocytes.
C) choanocytes, cnidocytes, and nematocyst cells.
D) nematocyst cells, mesenchyme cells, and pinacocytes.
Answer: B
Page ref: 24

9) The first animals to show true tissues were

A) sponges.
B) placozoans.
C) cnidarians.
D) ctenophores.
Answer: C
Page ref: 24

10) One key advantage associated with bilateral symmetry in animals is

A) an increase in speed.
B) the presence of a coelom.
C) the evolution of limbs.
D) the evolution of cephalization.
Answer: D
Page ref: 25

11) In early gastrulation, a depression called a blastopore forms. If this blastopore forms the anus, the
animals are referred to as
A) deuterostomes.
B) protostomes.
C) gastrostomes.
D) diploblasts.
Answer: A
Page ref: 25

12) Which of the following statements is correct?

A) In deuterostome animals, the blastopore becomes the mouth and the anus forms at a distant site.
B) In coelomate animals, the coelom is located between the endoderm and the mesoderm.
C) Arthropods show metamerism and tagmatization.
D) Deuterostomes include the arthropods, echinoderms, and chordates.

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 Principles of Animal Physiology, 3e (Moyes/Schulte)

Answer: C
Page ref: 25-28

13) Triploblastic animals are

A) acoelomate.
B) pseudocoelomate.
C) coelomate.
D) partially coelomate.
Answer: C
Page ref: 26

14) Platyhelminthes exhibit which of the following lifestyles?

A) free-living
B) free-living and ectoparasitic
C) ectoparasitic and endoparasitic
D) free-living, ectoparasitic, and endoparasitic
Answer: D
Page ref: 26

15) Platyhelminthes can live without a circulatory or respiratory system because

A) they rely on their digestive system.
B) they are dorsoventrally flattened.
C) the kidney excretes excess waste materials.
D) the epidermis secretes lubricants.
Answer: B
Page ref: 27

16) Which of the following statements best describes mollusks?

A) Mollusks include gastropods, bivalves, and cephalopods; they have a reduced coelom, and many
move at a sluggish pace.
B) Mollusks include gastropods, bivalves, and cephalopods; many move at a sluggish pace, and all are
aquatic.
C) Mollusks include gastropods and bivalves; several bivalves are terrestrial with adaptations to
withstand severe dehydration.
D) Mollusks include gastropods and bivalves, have a mantle, and all are aquatic.
Answer: A
Page ref: 27

17) Which characteristics do annelids and arthropods have in common?

A) Both have feeding grooves.
B) Both exhibit metamorphosis.
C) Both are metameric.
D) Both have a chitin-based body covering.
Answer: C
Page ref: 27-28

18) Which of the following characteristics would be most beneficial for animals to successfully survive on
land?

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when Adoniram was eight years old, his sister Mary was born, and died
six months later. The loss of this little sister must have marked an epoch
in his boyhood, for memorable is the hour when the keen ploughshare of
sorrow tears up the fresh turf of a child’s heart.
Wenham, too, was the scene of many of the following reminiscences,
for which we are indebted to the pen of Mrs. E. C. Judson:

“Adoniram was about seven years old, when, having been duly
instructed that the earth is a spherical body, and that it revolves around
the sun, it became a serious question in his mind whether or not the sun
moved at all. He might have settled the point by asking his father or
mother; but that would have spoiled all his pleasant speculations, and
probably would have been the very last thing to occur to him. His little
sister, whom alone he consulted, said the sun did move, for she could see
it; but he had learned already, in this matter, to distrust the evidence of
his senses, and he talked so wisely about positive proof, that she was
astonished and silenced. Soon after this, he was one day missed about
midday; and as he had not been seen for several hours, his father became
uneasy and went in search of him. He was found in a field, at some
distance from the house, stretched on his back, his hat with a circular
hole cut in the crown, laid over his face, and his swollen eyes almost
blinded with the intense light and heat. He only told his father that he
was looking at the sun; but he assured his sister that he had solved the
problem with regard to the sun’s moving, though she never could
comprehend the process by which he arrived at the result.
“He was noted among his companions for uncommon acuteness in the
solution of charades and enigmas, and retained a great store of them in
his memory for the purpose of puzzling his school-fellows. On one
occasion he found in a newspaper an enigma rather boastfully set forth,
and accompanied by a challenge for a solution. He felt very sure that he
had ‘guessed riddles as hard as that,’ and gave himself no rest until he
had discovered a satisfactory answer. This he copied out in as fair a hand
as possible, addressed it to the editor, and, with no confidante but his
sister, conveyed it to the post-office. But the postmaster supposed it to be
some mischievous prank of the minister’s son, and he accordingly placed
the letter in the hands of the father. The poor boy’s surprise and
discomfiture may be imagined when he saw it paraded on the table after
tea. ‘Is that yours, Adoniram?’ ‘Yes, sir.’ ‘How came you to write it?’
Silence. ‘What is it about?’ Falteringly, ‘Please read it, father.’ ‘I do not
read other people’s letters. Break the seal, and read it yourself.’
Adoniram broke the seal and mumbled over the contents, then placed the
letter in his father’s hands. He read it, called for the newspaper which
had suggested it, and after reading and re-reading both, laid them on the
table, crossed his hands on his knees, and looked intently into the fire.
Meantime Adoniram stood silently watching his countenance,
speculating on the chances of his being treated as a culprit, or praised for
his acuteness. But the father woke from his reverie, the subject of
conversation was changed, and the letter never heard of afterward. The
next morning Adoniram’s father gravely informed him that he had
purchased for his use a book of riddles, a very common one, but, as soon
as he had solved all that it contained, he should have more difficult
books. ‘You are a very acute boy, Adoniram,’ he added, patting him on
the head with unusual affection, ‘and I expect you to become a great
man.’ Adoniram seized upon the book of riddles joyfully, and was a
good deal surprised and disappointed to find it the veritable arithmetic
which the larger boys in Master Dodge’s school were studying. But then
his father had praised him, and if there was anything puzzling in the
arithmetic, he was sure he should like it; and so he prepared to enter
upon the study with alacrity.
“Before reaching his tenth year, he had gained quite a reputation for
good scholarship, especially in arithmetic. A gentleman residing in the
neighboring town of Beverly sent him a problem, with the offer of a
dollar for the solution. Adoniram immediately shut himself in his
chamber. The reward was tempting; but, more important still, his
reputation was at stake. On the morning of the second day he was called
from his seclusion to amuse his little brother, who was ill. He went
reluctantly, but without murmuring, for the government of his parents
was of a nature that no child would think of resisting. His task was to
build a cob-house. He laid an unusually strong foundation, with
unaccountable slowness and hesitation, and was very deliberately
proceeding with the superstructure, when suddenly he exclaimed, ‘That’s
it. I’ve got it!’ and sending the materials for the half-built house rolling
about the room, he hurried off to his chamber to record the result. The
problem was solved, the dollar was won, and the boy’s reputation
established.
“At the age of ten he was sent to one Captain Morton, of whom he
took lessons in navigation, in which he is said to have made decided
progress. In the grammar-school he was noted for his proficiency in the
Greek language. His school-mates nicknamed him Virgil, or (in allusion
to the peculiar style of the hat which he wore, as well as to his studious
habits) ‘old Virgil dug up.’ As a boy, he was spirited, self-confident, and
exceedingly enthusiastic, very active and energetic, but fonder of his
books than of play. His sister has a vivid recollection of his affectionate
tenderness toward her, and of his great kindness to inferior animals. He
was very fond of desultory reading; and as there were no books for
children at that period, he alternated between the books of theology
found in his father’s library and the novels of Richardson and Fielding,
or the plays of Ben Jonson, which he was able to borrow in the
neighborhood. It is not probable that his father encouraged this latter
class of reading; but the habits of self-dependence, which he had thought
proper to cultivate in his son, left his hours of leisure mostly
untrammelled; and seeing the greediness with which the boy
occasionally devoured books of the gravest character, it very likely had
not occurred to him that he could feel the least possible interest in any
work of the imagination.
“Before Adoniram was twelve years of age, he had heard visitors at
his father’s talk a great deal of a new exposition of the Apocalypse,
which they pronounced a work of rare interest. Now, the Revelation was
the book that, of all others in the Bible, he delighted most to read; and he
had searched the few commentators his father possessed without getting
much light upon its mysteries. The new exposition was owned by a very
awe-inspiring gentleman in the neighborhood; but Adoniram felt that he
must have it, and after combating a long time with his bashfulness, he at
last determined on begging the loan of it. He presented himself in the
great man’s library, and was coldly and sternly refused. For once, his
grief and mortification were so great that he could not conceal the affair
from his father. He received more sympathy than he anticipated. ‘Not
lend it to you!’ said the good man, indignantly; ‘I wish he could
understand it half as well. You shall have books, Adoniram, just as many
as you can read, and I’ll go to Boston myself for them.’ He performed
his promise, but the desired work on the Apocalypse, perhaps for
judicious reasons, was not obtained.”

In the year 1800 the family removed to Braintree, and two years later,
when Adoniram was fourteen years old, took up their abode in the old
historic town of Plymouth. In 1804 he entered Providence College—
subsequently called Brown University—one year in advance.
During his college course he was a hard student; and in 1807, at the
age of nineteen, was graduated the valedictorian of his class, in spite of
the fact that for six weeks of the Senior year he was absent, engaged in
teaching school in Plymouth. He was ambitious to excel; and a classmate
says of him, he has “no recollection of his ever failing, or even
hesitating, in recitation.” He had a powerful rival in his friend Bailey,[1]
and this probably added zest to his ambition. When he received the
highest appointment in the commencement exercises, his delight knew
no bounds. He hurried to his room, and wrote, “Dear father, I have got it.
Your affectionate son, A. J.” He then took a circuitous route to the post-
office, that he might quiet the beatings of his heart, and appear with
propriety before his classmates, and especially before his rival friend.
To his circumspect and studious behavior while in college, a letter to
his father from the President of the College bears unequivocal witness:

“B U , April 30, 1805.

“R . S : Notwithstanding the greatness of my present hurry, I must
drop you a word respecting your son; and this, I can assure you, is not by
way of complaint. A uniform propriety of conduct, as well as an intense
application to study, distinguishes his character. Your expectations of
him, however sanguine, must certainly be gratified. I most heartily
congratulate you, my dear sir, on that charming prospect which you have
exhibited in this very amiable and promising son; and I most heartily
pray that the Father of mercies may make him now, while a youth, a son
in his spiritual family, and give him an earnest of the inheritance of the
saints in light.
“I am, very respectfully,
“Your friend and servant,
“A M .”

In the autumn of 1807, young Judson opened in Plymouth a private

Academy, which he taught for nearly a year. During this time he also
published two text-books: “The Elements of English Grammar,” and
“The Young Lady’s Arithmetic.”
But the most important event of this period of his life was his
conversion. In a condensed journal of his, entitled “A Record of Dates
and Events pertaining to the Life of Adoniram Judson,”—a valuable
document still preserved in autograph, and reproduced in the Appendix
—may be found the following entry: “1808, Nov. Began to entertain a
hope of having received the regenerating influences of the Holy Spirit.”[2]
From his earliest years he had indeed breathed a thoroughly Christian
atmosphere. He could truly have said with St. Augustine, “This name of
my Saviour, Thy Son, had my tender heart, even with my mother’s milk,
devoutly drunk in, and deeply cherished; and whatsoever was without
that name, though never so learned, polished, or true, took not entire hold
of me.”
The following reminiscences of his youth, by Mrs. E. C. Judson, show
that years before he had given serious thought to the subject of personal
religion:

“When about fourteen years of age, his studies were interrupted by a

serious attack of illness, by which he was reduced to a state of extreme
weakness, and for a long time his recovery was doubtful. It was more
than a year before he was able to resume his customary occupations.
Previous to this, he had been too actively engaged to devote much time
to thought; but as soon as the violence of the disease subsided, he spent
many long days and nights in reflecting on his future course. His plans
were of the most extravagantly ambitious character. Now he was an
orator, now a poet, now a statesman; but whatever his character or
profession, he was sure in his castle-building to attain to the highest
eminence. After a time, one thought crept into his mind, and embittered
all his musings. Suppose he should attain to the very highest pinnacle of
which human nature is capable; what then? Could he hold his honors
forever? His favorites of other ages had long since been turned to dust,
and what was it to them that the world still praised them? What would it
be to him, when a hundred years had gone by, that America had never
known his equal? He did not wonder that Alexander wept when at the
summit of his ambition; he felt very sure that he should have wept too.
Then he would become alarmed at the extent of his own wicked
soarings, and try to comfort himself with the idea that it was all the result
of the fever in his brain.
“One day his mind reverted to religious pursuits. Yes, an eminent
divine was very well, though he should of course prefer something more
brilliant. Gradually, and without his being aware of his own train of
thought, his mind instituted a comparison between the great worldly
divine, toiling for the same perishable objects as his other favorites, and
the humble minister of the Gospel, laboring only to please God and
benefit his fellow-men. There was (so he thought) a sort of sublimity
about that, after all. Surely the world was all wrong, or such a self-
abjuring man would be its hero. Ah, but the good man had a reputation
more enduring. Yes, yes, his fame was sounded before him as he entered
the other world; and that was the only fame worthy of the possession,
because the only one that triumphed over the grave. Suddenly, in the
midst of his self-gratulation, the words flashed across his mind, ‘Not
unto us, not unto us, but to Thy name be the glory.’ He was confounded.
Not that he had actually made himself the representative of this last kind
of greatness; it was not sufficiently to his taste for that; but he had
ventured on dangerous ground, and he was startled by a flood of feelings
that had till now remained dormant. He had always said and thought, so
far as he had thought anything about it, that he wished to become truly
religious; but now religion seemed so entirely opposed to all his
ambitious plans, that he was afraid to look into his heart, lest he should
discover what he did not like to confess, even to himself—that he did not
want to become a Christian. He was fully awake to the vanity of worldly
pursuits, and was, on the whole, prepared to yield the palm of excellence
to religious ones; but his father had often said he would one day be a
great man, and a great man he had resolved to be.”

During his college course he began to cherish skeptical views.

“It was at this period that French infidelity was sweeping over the land
like a flood; and free inquiry in matters of religion was supposed to
constitute part of the education of every man of spirit. Young Judson did
not escape the contamination. In the class above him was a young man
by the name of E——who was amiable, talented, witty, exceedingly
agreeable in person and manners, but a confirmed Deist. A very strong
friendship sprang up between the two young men, founded on similar
tastes and sympathies; and Judson soon became, at least professedly, as
great an unbeliever as his friend. The subject of a profession was often
discussed between them. At one time they proposed entering the law,
because it afforded so wide a scope for political ambition; and at another,
they discussed their own dramatic powers, with a view to writing plays.
“Immediately on closing the school at Plymouth, Judson set out on a
tour through the Northern States. After visiting some of the New
England States, he left the horse with which his father had furnished him
with an uncle in Sheffield, Connecticut, and proceeded to Albany to see
the wonder of the world, the newly-invented Robert Fulton steamer. She
was about proceeding on her second trip to New York, and he gladly
took passage in her. The magnificent scenery of the Hudson had then
excited comparatively little attention, and its novelty and sublimity could
not fail to make a deep and lasting impression on one of Judson’s ardent
and adventurous spirit. Indeed, during his last illness, he described it
with all the enthusiasm that he might have done in his youth. His name
was frequently mistaken for that of Johnson; and it occurred to him that,
in the novel scenes before him, he might as well use this convenient
disguise, in order to see as deeply into the world as possible. He
therefore, without actually giving out the name with distinctness, or ever
writing it down, became Mr. Johnson. He had not been long in New York
before he contrived to attach himself to a theatrical company, not with
the design of entering upon the stage, but partly for the purpose of
familiarizing himself with its regulations, in case he should enter upon
his literary projects, and partly from curiosity and love of adventure.[3]
“Before setting out upon his tour he had unfolded his infidel
sentiments to his father, and had been treated with the severity natural to
a masculine mind that has never doubted, and to a parent who, after
having made innumerable sacrifices for the son of his pride and his love,
sees him rush recklessly on to his own destruction. His mother was none
the less distressed, and she wept, and prayed, and expostulated. He knew
his superiority to his father in argument; but he had nothing to oppose to
his mother’s tears and warnings, and they followed him now wherever he
went. He knew that he was on the verge of such a life as he despised. For
the world he would not see a young brother in his perilous position; but
‘I,’ he thought, ‘am in no danger. I am only seeing the world—the dark
side of it, as well as the bright; and I have too much self-respect to do
anything mean or vicious.’ After seeing what he wished of New York, he
returned to Sheffield for his horse, intending to pursue his journey
westward. His uncle, Rev. Ephraim Judson, was absent, and a very pious
young man occupied his place. His conversation was characterized by a
godly sincerity, a solemn but gentle earnestness, which addressed itself
to the heart, and Judson went away deeply impressed.
“The next night he stopped at a country inn. The landlord mentioned,
as he lighted him to his room, that he had been obliged to place him next
door to a young man who was exceedingly ill, probably in a dying state;
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, and that now, having heard of the circumstance, his pity would
not of course be increased by the nearness of the object. But it was,
nevertheless, a very restless night. Sounds came from the sick-chamber
—sometimes the movements of the watchers, sometimes the groans of
the sufferer; but it was not these which disturbed him. He thought of
what the landlord had said—the stranger was probably in a dying state;
and was he prepared? Alone, and in the dead of night, he felt a blush of
shame steal over him at the question, for it proved the shallowness of his
philosophy. What would his late companions say to his weakness? The
clear-minded, intellectual, witty E——, what would he say to such
consummate boyishness? But still his thoughts would revert to the sick
man. Was he a Christian, calm and strong in the hope of a glorious
immortality? or was he shuddering upon the brink of a dark, unknown
future? Perhaps he was a ‘freethinker,’ educated by Christian parents,
and prayed over by a Christian mother. The landlord had described him
as a young man; and in imagination he was forced to place himself upon
the dying bed, though he strove with all his might against it. At last
morning came, and the bright flood of light which it poured into his
chamber dispelled all his ‘superstitious illusions.’ As soon as he had
risen, he went in search of the landlord, and inquired for his fellow-
lodger. ‘He is dead,’ was the reply. ‘Dead!’ ‘Yes, he is gone, poor fellow!
The doctor said he would probably not survive the night.’ ‘Do you know
who he was?’ ‘O, yes; it was a young man from Providence College—a
very fine fellow; his name was E——.’ Judson was completely stunned.
After hours had passed, he knew not how, he attempted to pursue his
journey. But one single thought occupied his mind, and the words, Dead!
lost! lost! were continually ringing in his ears. He knew the religion of
the Bible to be true; he felt its truth; and he was in despair. In this state of
mind he resolved to abandon his scheme of travelling, and at once turned
his horse’s head toward Plymouth.”

He arrived at Plymouth September 22, 1808, and in October of the

same year entered the Theological Institution at Andover, one year in
advance. As he was neither a professor of religion nor a candidate for the
ministry, he was admitted only by special favor. On the 2d of December,
1808, he made a solemn dedication of himself to God; and on the 28th of
May, 1809, at the age of twenty-one, joined the Third Congregational
church in Plymouth. His conversion involved in itself a consecration to
the Christian ministry. How complete this consecration was, may be seen
in the following extract from a letter to Miss Ann Hasseltine:

“A , December 30, 1810. Sunday Eve.

“I have been through the labors of another Sabbath. A preacher can
say with Pope, ‘E’en Sunday shines no day of rest to me.’ Brother Nott
preaches this evening; but, on account of a cold, I stay at home. I am
persuaded that the chief reason why we do not enjoy religion is, that we
do not try to enjoy it. We are not like a good man who resolved that he
would grow in grace. We pervert the doctrine of our dependence to
indulging indolence and sinful ease. I have enjoyed some religion to-day,
and I think by means of resolving in the morning that I would avoid
everything displeasing to God. I have some hope that I shall be enabled
to keep this in mind, in whatever I do—Is it pleasing to God? To assist
my memory, I have used the expedient of inscribing it on several articles
which frequently meet my sight. Is it not a good plan? But after all, it
will be of no use, unless I resolve, in divine strength, instantly to obey
the decision of conscience.”
“December 31. Monday Eve.
“It is now half after nine, and I have been sitting fifteen minutes with
my pen in hand, thinking how to begin. I have this day attained more
than ever to what I suppose Christians mean by the enjoyment of God. I
have had pleasant seasons at the throne of God. Those lines of Watts
have been very sweet to me:
“‘Till Thou hast brought me to my home,
Where fears and doubts can never come,
Thy countenance let me often see,
And often Thou shalt hear from me.’
(78th of 1st Book.)

God is waiting to be gracious, and is willing to make us happy in

religion, if we would not run away from Him. We refuse to open the
window-shutters, and complain that it is dark. We grieve the Holy Spirit
by little sins, and thus lose our only support. Perhaps the secret of living
a holy life is to avoid everything which will displease God and grieve the
Spirit, and to be strictly attentive to the means of grace. God has
promised that He will regard the man that is of a broken and contrite
spirit, and trembleth at His word. He has promised that they that wait
upon Him shall renew their strength. The Almighty, the immutably
faithful, has made this promise. He is not a man, that He should lie, and
His arm is not of flesh. Wait, then, upon the Lord. Of how much real
happiness we cheat our souls by preferring a trifle to God! We have a
general intention of living religion; but we intend to begin to-morrow or
next year. The present moment we prefer giving to the world, ‘A little
more sleep, a little more slumber.’ Well, a little more sleep, and we shall
sleep in the grave. A few days, and our work will be done. And when it
is once done, it is done to all eternity. A life once spent is irrevocable. It
will remain to be contemplated through eternity. If it be marked with
sins, the marks will be indelible. If it has been a useless life, it can never
be improved. Such it will stand forever and ever. The same may be said
of each day. When it is once past, it is gone forever. All the marks which
we put upon it, it will exhibit forever. It will never become less true that
such a day was spent in such a manner. Each day will not only be a
witness of our conduct, but will affect our everlasting destiny. No day
will lose its share of influence in determining where shall be our seat in
heaven. How shall we then wish to see each day marked with usefulness!
It will then be too late to mend its appearance. It is too late to mend the
days that are past. The future is in our power. Let us, then, each morning,
resolve to send the day into eternity in such a garb as we shall wish it to
wear forever. And at night let us reflect that one more day is irrevocably
gone, indelibly marked. Good-night.”

1. The late Hon. John Bailey, member of Congress from

Massachusetts.
2. See Appendix A.
3. The natural tenderness of the sister from whom some of these
reminiscences have been derived, has cast a mantle of charity over this
episode in Mr. Judson’s life. There is reason to believe that his course
was more wayward than is here indicated.
An English gentleman who, many years after, was his fellow-prisoner
in Ava, writes as follows: “I will give the story as I heard it from the
actor’s own mouth, and as nearly as I can recollect them, in his words:
‘In my early days of wildness I joined a band of strolling players. We
lived a reckless, vagabond life, finding lodgings where we could, and
bilking the landlord where we found opportunity—in other words,
running up a score, and then decamping without paying the reckoning.
Before leaving America, when the enormity of this vicious course rested
with a depressing weight on my mind, I made a second tour over the
same ground, carefully making amends to all whom I had injured.’”
This, though rather a coarse statement of the case, seems to the author
in the main truthful. The author does not wish to gloze over this episode
in Mr. Judson’s life. Such a wrong course, succeeded by thorough
repentance and reparation, he thinks quite characteristic of Mr. Judson’s
positive nature.
 CHAPTER II.
CONSECRATION TO MISSIONARY LIFE.
1809-1812.

In September, 1809, young Judson, at the age of twenty-one, began to

ponder seriously the subject of Foreign Missions. He had just finished
his first year of study at Andover; another year of the theological course
remained. At this time there fell into his hands a sermon preached in the
parish church of Bristol, England, by Dr. Claudius Buchanan, who had
for many years been a chaplain to the British East India Company. The
sermon was entitled, “The Star in the East,” and had for its text Matt. ii.
2: “For we have seen His Star in the East, and are come to worship
Him.” The leading thought of the sermon was the Evidences of the
Divine Power of the Christian Religion in the East. Dr. Buchanan
described the progress of the Gospel in India, and especially the labors of
the venerable German missionary, Schwartz. This sermon fell like a
spark into the tinder of Judson’s soul.
In a letter written many years afterward, he says:

“Though I do not now consider that sermon as peculiarly excellent, it

produced a very powerful effect on my mind. For some days I was
unable to attend to the studies of my class, and spent my time in
wondering at my past stupidity, depicting the most romantic scenes in
missionary life, and roving about the college rooms declaiming on the
subject of missions. My views were very incorrect, and my feelings
extravagant; but yet I have always felt thankful to God for bringing me
into that state of excitement, which was perhaps necessary, in the first
instance, to enable me to break the strong attachment I felt to home and
country, and to endure the thought of abandoning all my wonted pursuits
and animating prospects. That excitement soon passed away; but it left a
strong desire to prosecute my inquiries and ascertain the path of duty. It
was during a solitary walk in the woods behind the college, while
meditating and praying on the subject, and feeling half inclined to give it
up, that the command of Christ, ‘Go into all the world and preach the
Gospel to every creature,’ was presented to my mind with such clearness
and power, that I came to a full decision, and though great difficulties
appeared in my way, resolved to obey the command at all events.”

Six months elapsed from the time of his reading Buchanan’s “Star in
the East” before he made the final resolve to become a missionary to the
heathen. This was in February, 1810. He was, no doubt, stimulated to
form this purpose by close contact with several other young men of like
aspirations. When a man is rocking in the trough of the sea of indecision,
it is very reassuring to have his interior conviction matched by an
external Providence. His earliest missionary associate was Samuel Nott,
Jr., who entered the Seminary early in the year 1810, and was even then
weighing the question whether he should devote himself to the work of
carrying the Gospel to the heathen. About the same time there came to
Andover four young men from Williams College—Samuel J. Mills, Jr.,
James Richards, Luther Rice, and Gordon Hall. While in college these
students had formed a missionary society, and they were accustomed to
meet together at night beneath a haystack near the college grounds. At
Williamstown, on the spot where now stands the famous Haystack
Monument, these young men consecrated themselves to the work of
Foreign Missions, and poured out their fervent prayers for the conversion
of the world; and this green nook among the Berkshire hills may well be
called the birthplace of American Foreign Missions.
As great scientific discoveries have seemed to spring up almost
simultaneously in the minds of independent and widely-separated
thinkers, sometimes engendering a strife as to the original discoverer, so
this grand thought of evangelizing the heathen seems to have been in the
atmosphere, and to have floated at almost the same time into the hearts
of different young men living far apart. Christian society was like a field
which, having been ploughed and sown, has folded up in its bosom a
potency of growth. Judson and his associates were like the first green
shoots, scattered far and wide, that appear above the ground and promise
to be followed by countless others. It was after long meditation and
prayer, and in communion with kindred glowing spirits, that the thought
in Judson’s mind of consecrating himself to the foreign missionary work
became a fixed purpose.
There were many obstacles in the way. He was not going among the
heathen because he could not find suitable employment at home. He had
received a tutor’s appointment in Brown University and had declined it.
The Rev. Dr. Griffin had proposed him as his colleague in “the largest
church in Boston.” “And you will be so near home,” his mother said.
“No!” was his reply, “I shall never live in Boston. I have much farther
than that to go.” The ambitious hopes of his father were overthrown; and
his mother and sister shed many regretful tears. He did not go abroad
because he was not wanted at home.

“In the spring

And glory of his being he went forth
From the embraces of devoted friends,
From ease and quiet happiness.... He went forth
Strengthen’d to suffer—gifted to subdue
The might of human passion—to pass on
Quietly to the sacrifice of all
The lofty hopes of boyhood, and to turn
The high ambition written on that brow,
From its first dream of power and human fame,
Unto a task of seeming lowliness—
Yet God-like in his purpose.”[4]

It is a mistake to suppose that a dull and second-rate man is good

enough for the heathen. The worst-off need the very best we have. God
gave His best, even His only-begotten Son, in order to redeem a lost
world. The most darkened and degraded souls need the best thinking.
When our Blessed Lord was presenting His Gospel to a fallen Samaritan
woman, He seems to have preserved His best thought for her; and in
order to make a bad woman good, utters in her ears the most august
philosophical thesis to be found in any tongue: “God is a Spirit, and they
that worship Him must worship Him in spirit and in truth.” Missions
have had their grandest successes when England’s best scholars, like
Bishop Patteson and Bishop Selwyn, have devoted their splendid talents
to the conversion of the fiercest and the lowest savages of Micronesia
and New Zealand. It would be a sad day for American Christians if they
should ever deserve Nehemiah’s reproach: “Their nobles put not their
necks to the work of their Lord.” Christianity will advance over the earth
with long, swift strides when the churches are ready to send their best
men, and the best men are ready to go.
Judson fully appreciated the dangers and hardships of a missionary
life. He seems to have counted the cost. After one of the battles in the
Franco-Prussian war, the German Emperor, William, had his attention
drawn to one of the wounded soldiers on the field. The King held out his
hand to the powder-stained private, and asked him what his trade was.
The man said, “I am a Doctor of Philosophy, your Majesty.” “Well, you
must have learned to bear your wounds philosophically,” said the King.
“Yes,” replied the soldier, “that I had already made up my mind to.”
Young Judson, before he had resolved to be a missionary, had made up
his mind to the sufferings and privations which he well knew were in
store for him. He thus wrote to Mr. Hasseltine, of Bradford, when asking
for his daughter’s hand:

“I have now to ask whether you can consent to part with your daughter
early next spring, to see her no more in this world? whether you can
consent to her departure to a heathen land, and her subjection to the
hardships and sufferings of a missionary life? whether you can consent
to her exposure to the dangers of the ocean; to the fatal influence of the
southern climate of India; to every kind of want and distress; to
degradation, insult, persecution, and perhaps a violent death? Can you
consent to all this, for the sake of Him who left His heavenly home and
died for her and for you; for the sake of perishing, immortal souls; for
the sake of Zion and the glory of God? Can you consent to all this, in
hope of soon meeting your daughter in the world of glory, with a crown
of righteousness brightened by the acclamations of praise which shall
redound to her Saviour from heathens saved, through her means, from
eternal woe and despair?”

These same anticipations of missionary sorrows pervade a pathetic

letter written by him to Miss Ann Hasseltine, during the period of their
betrothal:

“January 1, 1811. Tuesday Morn.

“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. As every moment of the year will bring you nearer the end of
your pilgrimage, may it bring you nearer to God, and find you more
prepared to hail the messenger of death as a deliverer and a friend. And
now, since I have begun to wish, I will go on. May this be the year in
which you will change your name; in which you will take a final leave of
your relatives and native land; in which you will cross the wide ocean,
and dwell on the other side of the world, among a heathen people. What
a great change will this year probably effect in our lives! How very
different will be our situation and employment! 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 civilized 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 celebrate the worship
of 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 ‘exceeding 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. O, we
shall wish to lie down and die. And that time may soon come. One of us
may be unable to sustain the heat of the climate and the change of habits;
and the other may say, with literal truth, over the grave—
“‘By foreign hands thy dying eyes were closed;
By foreign hands thy decent limbs composed;
By foreign hands thy humble grave adorned;’

but whether we shall be honored and mourned by strangers, God only

knows. At least, either of us will be certain of one mourner. In view of
such scenes shall we not pray with earnestness, ‘O for an overcoming
faith,’ etc.?”

But what steps did he and his young associates take in order to execute
their sublime purpose? There was at that time no foreign missionary
society in America to which they could offer their services, and which
would undertake their support in the foreign field.
There was, indeed, the Massachusetts Missionary Society, founded in
1799, the object of which was to diffuse a missionary spirit among the
Congregational churches in New England, and to carry the Gospel to the
Indians and to the newly-settled parts of our own land. But this Society
had not yet launched upon the work of foreign missions; and so Mr.
Judson, and the young men who shared his purpose, first proposed to
each other to enlist as missionaries under the London Missionary
Society. Accordingly Mr. Judson wrote the following letter to the
venerable Dr. Bogue, the President of the Seminary in Gosport, England,
where the missionaries of the London Society received their training:

“D C ,A , M ., April, 1810.
“R . S : I have considered the subject of missions nearly a year, and
have found my mind gradually tending to a deep conviction that it is my
duty personally to engage in this service. Several of my brethren of this
college may finally unite with me in my present resolution. On their as
well as my own behalf, I take the liberty of addressing you this letter. My
object is to obtain information on certain points—whether there is at
present such a call for missionaries in India, Tartary, or any part of the
Eastern Continent as will induce the directors of the London Missionary
Society to engage new missionaries; whether two or three young,
unmarried men, having received a liberal education, and resided two
years in this Divinity School, wishing to serve their Saviour in a heathen
land, and indeed susceptible of a ‘passion for missions,’—whether such
young men, arriving in England next spring, with full recommendations
from the first Christian characters in this country, may expect to be
received on probation by the directors, and placed at the seminary in
Gosport, if that be judged expedient; and whether, provided they give
satisfaction as to their fitness to undertake the work, all their necessary
expenses after arriving in England shall be defrayed from the funds of
the Society, which funds will, it is hoped, be ultimately reimbursed by
supplies from the American churches.
“We have consulted our professors on this subject, particularly Dr.
Griffin, Professor of Oratory. He intends writing to several in England,
and perhaps to Dr. Bogue. But his engagements being such as will
prevent his writing at present, and wishing myself to receive a letter from
you immediately, containing the desired information, I have written
myself. I close with an earnest request that you will please to transmit me
an answer as soon as possible, and a prayer that your answer may be
favorable to my most ardent wishes.
“A J ,J .
“P. S.—I shall deem it a favor if you do not confine your remarks to
the points which I have proposed, but are pleased to give such general
information and advice as you may think will be useful to me and my
brethren.”
 While awaiting a reply to this letter, these devoted students made their
desires known to their teachers in the Seminary and to several influential
ministers in the vicinity. The professors and ministers met for
consultation on the matter at the house of Prof. Stuart in Andover, on
Monday, June 25, 1810.
These wise and conservative men advised the students to submit their
case to the General Association, a body representing all the
Congregational churches of the State of Massachusetts, and which was to
meet at Bradford the next day.
Accordingly, on June 27, the students laid before the Association the
following letter:

“The undersigned, members of the Divinity College, respectfully

request the attention of their reverend fathers, convened in the General
Association at Bradford, to the following statement and inquiries:
“They beg leave to state that their minds have been long impressed
with the duty and importance of personally attempting a mission to the
heathen; that the impressions on their minds have induced a serious, and,
as they trust, a prayerful consideration of the subject in its various
attitudes, particularly in relation to the probable success and the
difficulties attending such an attempt; and that, after examining all the
information which they can obtain, they consider themselves as devoted
to this work for life, whenever God, in His providence, shall open the
way.
“They now offer the following inquiries, on which they solicit the
opinion and advice of this Association: Whether, with their present views
and feelings, they ought to renounce the object of missions, as either
visionary or impracticable; if not, whether they ought to direct their
attention to the Eastern or the Western world; whether they may expect
patronage and support from a missionary society in this country, or must
commit themselves to the direction of a European society; and what
preparatory measures they ought to take previous to actual engagement.
“The undersigned, feeling their youth and inexperience, look up to
their fathers in the Church, and respectfully solicit their advice, direction,
and prayers.
“A J ,J .
“S N ,J .
“S J. M .
“S N .”
 The names of Luther Rice and James Richards were originally
appended to this petition, but had been stricken out “for fear of alarming
the Association with too large a number.”
The General Association, when they came to act upon this petition,
passed the following resolutions:

“Voted, That there be instituted by this General Association, a Board

of Commissioners for Foreign Missions, for the purpose of devising
ways and means, and adopting and prosecuting measures, for promoting
the spread of the Gospel in heathen lands.
“Voted, That the said Board of Commissioners consist of nine
members, all of them, in the first instance, chosen by this Association;
and afterwards, annually, five of them by this body, and four of them by
the General Association of Connecticut. Provided, however, that if the
General Association of Connecticut do not choose to unite in this object,
the annual election of all the commissioners shall be by this General
Association.
“It is understood that the Board of Commissioners, here contemplated,
will adopt their own form of organization, and their own rules and
regulations.
“Voted, That, fervently commending them to the grace of God, we
advise the young gentlemen, whose request is before us, in the way of
earnest prayer and diligent attention to suitable studies and means of
information, and putting themselves under the patronage and direction of
the Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions, humbly to wait the
openings and guidance of Providence in respect to their great and
excellent design.”

Thus was organized the American Board of Commissioners for

Foreign Missions, a society widely known and justly revered at the
present day as the missionary organ of the Congregational churches of
America, and indeed the mother of American foreign missionary
societies.
The nine men originally forming this Board distrusted their ability to
support in the foreign field those who had offered their services. They
feared that the missionary sentiment among the churches of New
England was hardly strong enough, as yet, to undertake so great an
enterprise; and so they turned instinctively to their brethren in England,
represented in the London Missionary Society, for aid and co-operation.
They accordingly sent Mr. Judson to England to ascertain whether such
co-operation would be agreeable to the London Society.
The English directors gave Mr. Judson a most courteous and
affectionate greeting, but a joint conduct of the missions did not seem
practicable to them. They were willing to receive and support Mr. Judson
and his associates as their own missionaries, but did not feel disposed to
admit the American Board to a participation with them in the direction of
the work. Such co-operation might occasion complications, and they
wisely thought that American Christians were able to take care of their
own missionaries.

J. Morris Pinct. Alex. Cameron Sculpt.

REVD. ADONIRAM JUDSON JUNR. A.M.
 Missionary to the East.
d
Taken in the 23 Æ t AD1811.

Mr. Judson embarked for England January 11, 1811, on the English
ship Packet. She was captured on the way by a French privateer, and so
he was subjected to imprisonment and compulsory detention in France.
On the 6th of May he arrived in London, and on the 18th of June he
embarked at Gravesend, in the ship Augustus, bound for New York,
where he arrived on the 17th of August. Some interesting reminiscences
of this voyage to England have been preserved by the pen of Mrs. E. C.
Judson:

“There were on the ship Packet two Spanish merchants; and these, I
believe, were the only passengers beside Mr. Judson. When they were
captured by L’Invincible Napoleon, these two gentlemen, being able to
speak French, and most likely to furnish a bribe, were treated very
civilly. Mr. Judson, however, was very young, with nothing distinctive in
his outward appearance, and was, moreover, speechless, friendless, and
comparatively moneyless. He was, without question or remonstrance,
immediately placed in the hold, with the common sailors. This was the
first hardship he had ever known, and it affected him accordingly. He
shrank from the associations of the place, and the confined air seemed
unendurable. Soon the weather roughened, and he, together with several
of his more hardy companions, became excessively seasick. The doctor
visited him every day, but he could not communicate with him, and the
visit was nearly useless. Sick, sorrowful, and discouraged, his thoughts
went back to his dear old Plymouth home, then to Bradford, and finally
the Boston church—‘the biggest church in Boston’; and he became
alarmed at the strange feeling that crept over him. It was the first
moment of misgiving he had known. As soon as he became aware of the
feeling, he commenced praying against it, as a temptation of the
adversary. It seemed to him that God had permitted this capture, and all
his trouble, as a trial of his faith; and he resolved, in the strength of God,
to bear it, as he might be called upon to bear similar trials hereafter. As
soon as he had come to this resolution, he fumbled about in the gray
twilight of his prison, till he succeeded in finding his Hebrew Bible. The
light was very faint, but still he managed to see for a few moments at a
time, and amused himself with translating mentally from the Hebrew to
the Latin—a work which employed his thoughts, and saved his eyes.