Chapter 55

LETTER FROM MRS. B.--MR. B.'S VISIT TO THE KARENS IN THEIR VILLAGES.--DEFECTION OF DISCIPLES.--ITS EFFECT ON MR. AND MRS. B.

Extract of a letter from Mrs. Boardman to a "beloved sister," dated Tavoy, 1828.--"Nothing especial has occurred since I last wrote. We are still in good health, and happy in our work. We are now destitute of all religious society, and feel that our responsibilities are great indeed.... We have to suffer many little inconveniences in this country, but have no disposition to complain. We rejoice in the kind providence that has directed our steps, and would not exchange our condition. Our desire is to labor among the poor heathen until called to our eternal home." She then, with characteristic earnestness and affection, inquires after her sister's spiritual state. "Oh if you are a child of God, how great is your happiness; you can think of death without fear. The troubles and griefs of life do not distress you as they do the poor worldling, who looks only to the enjoyments of this life for comfort. If a Christian, you have sweet foretastes of that joy which is unspeakable and inconceivable by mortals. Though a sinner still, you feel that your sins are pardoned, and that through the merits of a crucified Saviour you will at last be accepted of God. I would fondly hope, my dear sister, that this is your happy case. But if not, oh who can tell your dreadful danger? Who can paint the alarming prospect before you? Every moment exposed to death, and yet without hope. Subject to disappointments and afflictions in this world, and yet no refuge for your anguished spirit. The weight of sins daily accumulating, and every day less prospect of obtaining pardon. The awful prospect of eternal banishment from all that is holy, oh my sister, reflect.... If you have not yet turned to the Saviour, delay no longer.... Oh may you, and all my beloved brothers and sisters, be early brought to a knowledge of the truth. I cannot express the anxiety I feel for every one of you. I also feel the solicitude of a tender sister for your temporal good. Write me particulars of the health of my dear parents, grand-parents, and each of my brothers and sisters. Though separated from you, I always wish to share your joys and sorrows.

"Your little niece is in charming health. She sends many kisses to you all, and I shall teach her to love you, though she cannot see you."

We have inserted this letter, which in its spirit is a specimen of all her letters, not only for its, intrinsic excellence, but to show that even in distant Burmah, and surrounded by cares and duties which would have diminished in a less affectionate breast her interest in her distant relatives,

"Her heart untravelled fondly turned to" them, "And dragged at each remove a lengthening chain."

While laboring for the conversion of pagans, she felt more than she had ever felt before, the awful danger of those who under the full blaze of gospel light, choose to walk in darkness; and for her family, her dear brothers and sisters, her burden was almost like that of the apostle who was, as it were, willing to give up his own title to the heavenly inheritance, if by so doing he could save his "kindred according to the flesh."[10] All her letters which we have been privileged to see, bear evidence of this.

In December of the year 1828, Mrs. Boardman was called to a trial which of all others was most fitted to make her feel that every earthly dependence is at best but a broken reed, and that

"The spider's most attenuated thread Is cord, is cable, to our strongest hold On earthly bliss; it breaks with every breeze."

Her almost idolized husband, her guide, her only human support, protector, and companion, was attacked by that insidious and incurable malady which was destined at no distant day to close his career of usefulness on earth, and send him early to his reward. A copious hemorrhage from the lungs warned him that his time for earthly labor was short, and seemed to increase his desire to work while his day lasted. As soon as his strength was sufficiently restored after his first attack, namely, in February 1829, he resolved to fulfil his long-cherished intention to visit the Karens in their native villages. He took with him two Karens, two of his scholars, and a servant. Females, who in this country of order and security, tremble at the idea of being left for one night alone in their strong and guarded dwellings, may perhaps conceive the feelings of Mrs. Boardman on being thus left by her protector.--Her own health scarce re-established after a four months' illness,--her mind agitated by fears for her stricken husband, who under burning suns, and amid unknown wilds, exposed to the fury of the sudden thunder-gust, and the wild beast of the jungles, must be absent from her, perhaps, two or three dreary weeks in which time not one "cordial, endearing report" from him, would reach her;--in her frail hut, and with two little ones dearer to her than life, exposed to the same dangers as herself,--what could support her in such circumstances but her faith in that arm whose strength is shown to be "perfect, in weakness?" A poor Karen woman, seeing her distress, tried to console her: "Weep not, mama," she said; "the teacher has gone on an errand of compassion to my poor perishing countrymen. They have never heard of the true God, and the love of his Son Jesus Christ, who died upon he cross to save sinners. They know nothing of the true religion, mama; and when they die they cannot go to the golden country of the blessed. God will take care of the teacher; do not weep, mama." Blessed faith in an omnipresent Heavenly Father! It gives even the unlettered Karen disciple, an eloquence in consolation, to which worldly philosophy is a stranger.

Mr. Boardman's journey, though perilous from the causes above mentioned, and tedious from being performed on foot, was highly interesting on account of the eager welcome, and abundant hospitality of the simple-minded Karen villagers whom he visited. On entering a village, he and his little caravan were overwhelmed with presents of provisions and fruits; and the inhabitants would exclaim, while their countenances beamed with delight, "Ah, you have come _at last_; we have long wanted to see you!" He travelled more than one hundred miles, often through unfrequented and toilsome paths among the mountains, and was three times drenched with powerful rains, from which he had no sufficient shelter; but by the aid of an interpreter he preached seventeen sermons, and was cheered by finding the readiness of the people to receive his doctrines far exceed his most sanguine expectations. On his return, both he and Mrs. Boardman had to experience an affliction extremely trying to the heart of a missionary; the defection of some of the Christian converts. Their sensitive spirits led Mr. and Mrs. B. to fear that their own unfaithfulness might have been the cause of the fall of their disciples. Mrs. Boardman's self-upbraidings were bitter; her humiliation deep and sincere. "Our hearts," she says, "have bled with anguish, and mine has sunk lower than the grave, for I have felt that my unworthiness has been the cause of all our calamities."

So keen were her self-rebukes at this time, that they break out even in her letters to her friends. In one of them she writes: "Some of these poor Burmans, who are daily carried to the grave, may at last reproach me and say, you came, it is true, to the city where we dwelt, to tell of heaven and hell, but wasted much, much of your precious time in indolence while learning our language. And when you were able to speak, why were you not incessantly telling us of this day of doom, when we visited you? Why, oh why did you ever speak of any other thing, while we were ignorant of this most momentous of all truths? How could you think on anything but our salvation?... You told us you knew of a Being that heard your lowest whispers, and most secret sighs--why then, did you not, day and night, entreat him in our behalf?" Mr. Boardman in his journal says, "My dear wife became at this time so deeply impressed with divine things, and particularly with a sense of her own sinfulness, that she had no rest night or day. We both endeavored to return to the Lord from whom we had strayed; but our path, especially that of Mrs. B. led hard by the borders of despair.... We confessed our sins to the Lord and to one another. We considered ourselves worthy to be trodden under foot of men, and were astonished to think of our pride and selfishness.... We were filled with the most distressing views of our utter sinfulness in the sight of a holy God."

Thus was this affliction, though "grievous," beginning to work out in her heart its "peaceable fruit of righteousness," by deepening her humility, quickening her zeal, and leading her to a more thorough consecration of herself to the work she had undertaken.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 10: Romans ix. 3.]