FOOTNOTES:

FOOTNOTES:[4]Alluding to Dr. Judson's visit to America.

[4]Alluding to Dr. Judson's visit to America.

(Extract of a Letter from Mr. Judson.)

"I exceedingly regret that there is no portrait of the second as of the first Mrs. Judson. Her soft blue eyes, her mild aspect, her lovely face and elegant form, have never been delineated on canvass. They must soon pass away from the memory even of her children, but they will remain forever enshrined in her husband's heart."

In an article in theNorth American Reviewof 1835, we find the following admirable sentiments: "It is impossible to peruse the written life of any man or woman who has manifested great intellectual or moral power, whether in a holy cause or an unholy one, without a strong admiration and a deep sympathy, and a powerful impulse toward imitation. The soul is awakened, the active powers are roused, the contemplation of high achievement kindles emulation; and well would it be were the character of those leading minds, which thus draw after them the mass of mankind, always virtuous and noble. But in the vast majority of instances, the leaders of mankind, are individuals whose principles and motives the Christian must condemn, as hostile to the spirit of the gospel. More precious therefore, is the example of that piousfew who have devoted themselves with pure hearts fervently, to the glory of God, and the good of man, and whose energy of purpose, and firmness of principle, and magnanimity in despising difficulty and danger, and suffering and death, in the accomplishment of a noble end, rouse into active admiration all who contemplate their glorious career."

Such a 'glorious career' was that of the honored missionary whose life has been sketched in the former part of this volume; and such too was hers who forms the subject of the present memoir. Sarah B. Hall was the eldest of thirteen children. Her parents were Ralph and Abiah Hall, who removed during her infancy from Alstead, New Hampshire, the place of her birth, to Salem, in the State of Massachusetts. Her parents not being wealthy, she was early trained to those habits of industry, thoughtfulness and self-denial which distinguished her through life. Children so situated are sometimes pitied by those who consider childhood as the proper season for careless mirth and reckless glee; but they often form characters of solid excellence rarely possessed by those to whom fortune has been more indulgent. Their struggle with obstacles in the way of improvement, and final triumph over them, is an invaluable preparation for the rude conflicts of life; their ingenuity is quickened by the hourly necessity of expedients to meet emergencies,and the many trials which are unavoidable in their circumstances, and which must be met with energy and resolution, give habits of patient endurance, and noble courage.

From all the accounts which we have of her, Sarah must have been a most engaging child. Gentle and affectionate in disposition, and persuasive and winning in manners, there was yet an ardor and enthusiasm in her character, combined with a quiet firmness and perseverance, that ensured success in whatever she attempted, and gave promise of the lofty excellence to which she afterwards attained. All who have sketched her character notice one peculiarity—and it is one which commonly attends high merit—her modest unobtrusiveness.

She was very fond of little children, and easily won their affections; but showed little disposition even in childhood, to mingle in the sports of those of her own age. This arose from no want of cheerfulness in her bosom; but from a certain thoughtfulness, and fondness for intellectual exercises which were early developed in her character.

Her principle, as well as her fondness for her mother, led her never to shrink from what are termed domestic duties, but her heart was not in them as it was in study and meditation. An illustration of this trait was recently related by her brother. Sarah wasrepeating some lines on the death of Nancy Cornelius, which attracted the attention of her mother, who asked her where she had learned them. With some hesitation the child confessed that she had composed them the day before, while engaged in some domestic avocation, during which her unusual abstracedness had been noticed. Her early poetical attempts evince uncommon facility in versification; and talent, that if cultivated might have placed her high in the ranks of those who have trod the flowery paths of literature; but hers was a higher vocation; and poetry, which was the delightful recreation of her childhood, and never utterly neglected in her riper years, was never to her anythingmorethan a recreation.

Her effusions at the age of thirteen are truly remarkable, when we consider the circumstances under which they were written. One, which is given by her biographer as it was probably amended by the 'cultivated taste of later years,' now lies before me as it was first written; and the improved copy, though greatly superior in beauty to the first, seems to me to lack the vigor and energy, which more than atone for the many blemishes of the other. Our readers shall judge. We insert thechildishcomposition; the other is to be found in her graceful memoir by 'Fanny Forrester.' She calls it "a Versification of David's lament over Saul and Jonathan."

The 'beauty of Israel' forever is fled,And low lie the noble and strong;Ye daughters of music encircle the dead,And chant the funereal song.O never let Gath know their sorrowful doom,Nor Askelon hear of their fate;Their daughters would scoff while we lay in the tomb,The relics of Israel's great.As strong as young lions were they in the field;Like eagles they never knew fear;As dark autumn clouds were the studs of their shield,And swifter than wind flew their spear.My brother, my friend, must I bidtheeadieu!Ah yes, I behold thy deep wound—Thy bosom, once warm as my tears that fast flow,Is colder than yonder clay mound.Ye mountains of Gilboa, never may dewDescend on your verdure so green;Loud thunder may roar, and fierce lightning may glowBut never let showers be seen.Your verdure may scorch in the bright blazing sun,The night-blast may level your wood;For beneath it, unhallowed, were broken and thrownThe arms of the chosen of God.Ye daughters of Israel, snatch from your browThose garlands of eglantine fair;Let cypress and nightshade, the emblems of woe.Be wreathed in your beautiful hair.Approach, and with sadness encircle the deadAnd chant the funereal song—The 'beauty of Israel' forever is fled,And low lie the noble and strong.

The 'beauty of Israel' forever is fled,And low lie the noble and strong;Ye daughters of music encircle the dead,And chant the funereal song.

O never let Gath know their sorrowful doom,Nor Askelon hear of their fate;Their daughters would scoff while we lay in the tomb,The relics of Israel's great.

As strong as young lions were they in the field;Like eagles they never knew fear;As dark autumn clouds were the studs of their shield,And swifter than wind flew their spear.

My brother, my friend, must I bidtheeadieu!Ah yes, I behold thy deep wound—Thy bosom, once warm as my tears that fast flow,Is colder than yonder clay mound.

Ye mountains of Gilboa, never may dewDescend on your verdure so green;Loud thunder may roar, and fierce lightning may glowBut never let showers be seen.

Your verdure may scorch in the bright blazing sun,The night-blast may level your wood;For beneath it, unhallowed, were broken and thrownThe arms of the chosen of God.

Ye daughters of Israel, snatch from your browThose garlands of eglantine fair;Let cypress and nightshade, the emblems of woe.Be wreathed in your beautiful hair.

Approach, and with sadness encircle the deadAnd chant the funereal song—The 'beauty of Israel' forever is fled,And low lie the noble and strong.

Some other effusions, probably of a later date, we will here insert, not only for their merit, but to show what those powers were which she sacrificed, when she turned from the cultivation of her fancy to that of her higher and nobler faculties.

ENCAMPMENT OF ISRAELITES AT ELIM.

"Slowly and sadly, through the desert waste,The fainting tribes their dreary pathway traced;Far as the eye could reach th' horizon round,Did one vast sea of sand the vision bound.No verdant shrub, nor murmuring brook was near,The weary eye and sinking soul to cheer;No fanning zephyr lent its cooling breath,But all was silent as the sleep of death;Their very footsteps fell all noiseless thereAs stifled by the moveless, burning air;And hope expired in many a fainting breast,And many a tongue e'en Egypt's bondage blest.Hark! through the silent waste, what murmur breaks?What scene of beauty 'mid the desert wakes?Oh! 'tis a fountain! shading trees are there.And their cool freshness steals out on the air!With eager haste the fainting pilgrims rush,Where Elim's cool and sacred waters gush;Prone on the bank, where murmuring fountains flow,Their wearied, fainting, listless forms they throw,Deep of the vivifying waters drink,Then rest in peace and coolness on the brink,While the soft zephyrs, and the fountain's flow,Breathe their sweet lullaby in cadence low.Oh! to the way-worn pilgrim's closing eyes,How rare the beauty that about him lies!Each leaf that quivers on the waving trees,Each wave that swells and murmurs in the breeze,Brings to his grateful heart a thrill of bliss,And wakes each nerve to life and happiness.When day's last flush had faded from the sky,And night's calm glories rose upon the eye,Sweet hymns of rapture through the palm-trees broke,And the loud timbrels deep response awoke;Rich, full of melody the concert ran,Of praise to God, of gratitude in man,While, as at intervals, the music fell,Was heard, monotonous, the fountain's swell,That in their rocky shrines, flowed murmuring there,And song and coolness shed along the air;Night mantled deeper, voices died away,The deep-toned timbrel ceased its thrilling sway;And there, beside, no other music gushing,Were heard the solitary fountains rushing,In melody their song around was shed,And lulled the sleepers on their verdant bed."

"COME OVER AND HELP US."

"Ye, on whom the glorious gospel,Shines with beams serenely bright,Pity the deluded nations,Wrapped in shades of dismal night;Ye, whose bosoms glow with rapture,At the precious hopes they bear;Ye, who know a Saviour's mercy,Listen to our earnest prayer!See that race, deluded, blinded,Bending at yon horrid shrine;Madness pictured in their faces,Emblems of the frantic mind;They have never heard of Jesus,Never to th' Eternal prayed;Paths of death and woe they're treading,Christian! Christian! come and aid!By that rending shriek of horrorIssuing from the flaming pile,By the bursts of mirth that follow,By that Brahmin's fiend-like smileBy the infant's piercing cry,Drowned in Ganges' rolling wave;By the mother's tearful eye,Friends of Jesus, come and save!By that pilgrim, weak and hoary,Wandering far from friends and homeVainly seeking endless gloryAt the false Mahomet's tomb;By that blind, derided nation,Murderers of the Son of God,Christians, grant us our petition,Ere we lie beneath the sod!By the Afric's hopes so wretched,Which at death's approach shall flyBy the scalding tears that trickleFrom the slave's wild sunken eyeBy the terrors of that judgment,Which shall fix our final doom;Listen to our cry so earnest;—Friends of Jesus, come, oh, comeBy the martyrs' toils and sufferings,By their patience, zeal, and love;By the promise of the Mighty,Bending from His throne above;By the last command so precious,Issued by the risen God;Christians! Christians! come and help us,Ere we lie beneath the sod!"

See that race, deluded, blinded,Bending at yon horrid shrine;Madness pictured in their faces,Emblems of the frantic mind;They have never heard of Jesus,Never to th' Eternal prayed;Paths of death and woe they're treading,Christian! Christian! come and aid!

By that rending shriek of horrorIssuing from the flaming pile,By the bursts of mirth that follow,By that Brahmin's fiend-like smileBy the infant's piercing cry,Drowned in Ganges' rolling wave;By the mother's tearful eye,Friends of Jesus, come and save!

By that pilgrim, weak and hoary,Wandering far from friends and homeVainly seeking endless gloryAt the false Mahomet's tomb;By that blind, derided nation,Murderers of the Son of God,Christians, grant us our petition,Ere we lie beneath the sod!

By the Afric's hopes so wretched,Which at death's approach shall flyBy the scalding tears that trickleFrom the slave's wild sunken eyeBy the terrors of that judgment,Which shall fix our final doom;Listen to our cry so earnest;—Friends of Jesus, come, oh, come

By the martyrs' toils and sufferings,By their patience, zeal, and love;By the promise of the Mighty,Bending from His throne above;By the last command so precious,Issued by the risen God;Christians! Christians! come and help us,Ere we lie beneath the sod!"

Sarah, from her earliest years took great delight in reading. At four years, says her brother, she couldread readily in any common book. Her rank in her classes in school was always high, and her teachers felt a pleasure in instructing her. On one occasion, when about thirteen, she was compelled to signify to the principal of a female seminary, that her circumstances would no longer permit her to enjoy its advantages. The teacher, unwilling to lose a pupil who was an honor to the school, and who so highly appreciated its privileges, remonstrated with her upon her intention, and finally prevailed on her to remain. Soon after she commenced instructing a class of small children, and was thus enabled to keep her situation in the seminary, without sacrificing her feelings of independence.

Her earliest journals, fragmentary as they are, disclose a zeal and ardor in self-improvement exceedingly unusual. "My mother cannot spare me to attend school this winter, but I have begun to pursue my studies at home." Again: "My parents are not in a situation to send me to school this summer, so I must make every exertion in my power to improve at home." Again, in a note to a little friend, "I feel very anxious to adopt some plan for our mutual improvement." How touching are these simple expressions! How severely do they rebuke the apathy of thousands of young persons, who allow golden opportunities of improvement to slip away from then forever—opportunities which to Sarah Hall and such as she, were of priceless value! Yet it is not one of the least of thecompensationswith which the providence of God abounds, that the very lack of favorable circumstances is sometimesmostfavorable to the development of latent resources. Thus it was with Sarah. Her whole career shows that her mind had been early trained and disciplined in that noblest of all schools, the school of adverse fortune.

Amiable as she was, and conscientious in a degree not usual, Sarah knew that "yet one thing she lacked;" and this knowledge often disquieted her. But her first deep and decided convictions of sin, seem to have been produced, about the year 1820, under the preaching of Mr. Cornelius. Her struggles of mind were fearful, and she sunk almost to the verge of despair; but hope dawned at last, and she was enabled to consecrate her whole being to the service of her Maker. She soon after united with the first Baptist church in Salem, under the care of Dr. Bolles.

The missionary spirit was early developed in her heart. Even before her conversion, her mind was often exercised with sentiments of commiseration for the situation of ignorant heathen and idolaters; and after that event it was the leading idea of her life.

The cause of this early bias is unknown, but it was shown in her conversations, her letters and notes to friends, and in her early poetical effusions. She eventremblingly investigated her own fitness to became a vessel of mercy to the far off, perishing heathen; and then, shrinking from what seemed to her the presumptuous thought, she gave herself with new zeal to the work of benefitting these immediately around her. "Shortly after her conversion," says her brother, "she observed the destitute condition of the children in the neighborhood in which she resided. With the assistance of some young friends as teachers, she organized and continued through the favorable portions of the year, a Sunday-school, of which she assumed the responsibility of superintendent; and at the usual annual celebrations, she with her teachers and scholars joined in the exercises which accompany that festival."

"It is my ardent desire," she writes to a friend, "that the glorious work of reformation may extend tillevery kneeshall bow to the living God. For this expected, this promised era, let us pray earnestly, unceasingly, and with faith. How can I be so inactive, when I know that thousands are perishing in this land of grace; and millions in other lands are at this very moment kneeling before senseless idols!"

And in her journal—"Sinners perishing all around me, and I almost panting to tell the farheathenof Christ! Surely this is wrong. I will no longer indulge the vain foolish wish, but endeavor to be usefulin the position where Providence has placed me. I canprayfor deluded idolaters, and for those who labor among them, and this is a privilege indeed."

This strong bias of her mind toward a missionary life, was well known to her mother, who still remembers with a tender interest an incident connected with it. Sarah had been deeply affected by the death of Colman, who in the midst of his labors among the heathen, had suddenly been called to his reward. Some time afterward she returned from an evening meeting, and with a countenance radiant with joy, announced—what her pastor had mentioned in the meeting—that a successor to Colman had been found;a young man in Maine named Boardmanhad determined to raise and bear to pagan Burmah the standard which had fallen from his dying hand. With that maternal instinct which sometimes forebodes a future calamity however improbable, her mother turned away from her daughter's joyous face, for the thought flashed involuntarily through her mind, that the young missionary would seek as a companion of his toils, a kindred spirit; and where would he find one so congenial as the lovely being before her?

Her fears were realized. Some lines written by "the enthusiastic Sarah" on the death of Colman, met the eye of the "young man in Maine," who was touched and interested by the spirit which breathes inthem, and did not rest till he had formed an acquaintance with their author. This acquaintance was followed by an engagement; and in about two years Sarah's ardent aspirations were gratified—she was a missionary to the heathen.

But we are anticipating events; and will close this chapter with extracts from the "Lines on the death of Colman," of which we have spoken.

"'Tis the voice of deep sorrow from India's shoreThe flower of our churches is withered, is dead,The gem that shone brightly will sparkle no more,And the tears of the Christian profusely are shedTwo youths of Columbia, with hearts glowing warmEmbarked on the billows far distant to rove,To bear to the nations all wrapp'd in thick gloom,The lamp of the gospel—the message of love.But Wheelock now slumbers beneath the cold wave,And Colman lies low in the dark cheerless grave.Mourn, daughters of India, mourn!The rays of that star, clear and bright,That so sweetly on Arracan shoneAre shrouded in black clouds of night,For Colman is gone!Oh Colman! thy father weeps not o'er thy grave;Thy heart riven mother ne'er sighs o'er thy dust;But the long Indian grass o'er thy far tomb shall wave,And the drops of the evening descend on the just.Cold, silent and dark is thy narrow abode—But not long wilt thou sleep in that dwelling of gloom,For soon shall be heard the great trump of our GodTo summon all nations to hear their last doom;A garland of amaranth then shall be thine,And thy name on the martyrs' bright register shine.O what glory will burst on thy viewWhen are placed by the Judge of the earth,The flowers that in India grewBy thy care, in the never-pale wreathEncircling thy brow!

Oh Colman! thy father weeps not o'er thy grave;Thy heart riven mother ne'er sighs o'er thy dust;But the long Indian grass o'er thy far tomb shall wave,And the drops of the evening descend on the just.Cold, silent and dark is thy narrow abode—But not long wilt thou sleep in that dwelling of gloom,For soon shall be heard the great trump of our GodTo summon all nations to hear their last doom;A garland of amaranth then shall be thine,And thy name on the martyrs' bright register shine.O what glory will burst on thy viewWhen are placed by the Judge of the earth,The flowers that in India grewBy thy care, in the never-pale wreathEncircling thy brow!

We need offer no apology for turning aside from the immediate subject of our narrative, in order to introduce to our readers one, who must henceforth share with her our sympathy and our affection; we mean George Dana Boardman—the successor to Colman spoken of in the last chapter.

He was the son of a Baptist clergyman in Livermore, Maine, and was born in 1801. Though feeble in body, he had an ardent thirst for knowledge, which often made him conceal illness for fear of being detained from school. At a suitable age, he was sent to an academy in North Yarmouth, where he became distinguished for ardor in the pursuit of learning, and fine mental powers. It is related, that he went through the Latin grammar with surprising rapidity, and then expected to be allowed to use the Lexicon, but was told he must go through the grammar once or twice more. Disappointed, he returned to his seat, and in an hour or two was called up to recite, when herepeated verbatim sixteen pages of the grammar. His preceptor inquired if he had got more; he answered yes; and on being asked how much, replied, "I can recite the whole book, sir, if you wish!" He afterwards manifested equal power in mathematics. At sixteen, he engaged in school-teaching, in order to obtain means for a collegiate course—the great object of his ambition—and in this employment he manifested a knowledge of human nature and of the influences which control it, truly wonderful. The most turbulent and disorderly schools, became, in his hands, models of system and regularity.

In 1819, when 18 years old, he entered Waterville College, Maine. He was at this time a youth of good principles, inflexible purpose, strong affections, and independent opinions, but had hitherto given no evidence of piety. "But in this institution his thoughts were directed by a variety of circumstances, to a consideration of the vast and important topics of evangelical religion. His room-mate was a very pious and most warm-hearted man. The officers of the college did all in their power to elevate his thoughts and affections. In short, every external influence with which a young man could be surrounded, was calculated to lead his mind heavenward. Under the operation of these causes, he was by the Spirit of God, induced to consecrate himself, soul, body, and spirit, to religion;and in 1820, he made a public profession of his belief and was baptized."[5]

From his letters and journals, we find that he soon turned his thoughts to the subject of missions. "In the winter of 1820," he says, "the thought occurred to me that I could take my Bible, and travel through new settlements where the Gospel was seldom or never heard, andwithout sustaining the name of a preacher, could visit from hut to hut, and tell the story of Jesus' dying love. Then in imagination, I could welcome fatigue, hunger, cold, solitude, sickness and death, if I could only win a few cottagers to my beloved Saviour."

When the news of the death of Mr. Judson's fellow missionary, Colman, reached America, his soul was filled with desire to supply the place of that beloved laborer in the Burman field. Still his chief aim was to leave theplaceof his labors entirely to the guidance of Providence. On graduating at college, he accepted the office of tutor in it for one year, and so great was the promise of his future eminence, that the good president predicted that he would, at a future day, preside over the institution. But his heart was fixed on other labor, and as soon as his engagement was completed, he hastened to offer his services to the Board of Foreign Missions, and was at once accepted as a missionary.

The parting scene between Boardman and his religious friends in Waterville, who had assembled to bid him farewell is said by one present on that occasion, to have been exceedingly touching. "The eye of Boardman was alone undimmed by a tear. In a tender and yet unfaltering tone he addressed a few words to his brethren. We all knelt down in prayer together for the last time. On arising, Boardman passed round the room, and gave to each his hand for the last time. His countenance was serene, his mild blue eye beamed with benignity, and though there was in his manner a tenderness which showed he had a heart to feel, yet there was no visible emotion till he came to his room-mate. As he tookhimby the hand, his whole frame became convulsed, his eye filled, and the tears fell fast, as if all the tender feelings of his spirit, till now imprisoned, had at this moment broken forth—'farewell!' he faltered; and then smiling through his tears, said, as he left the room, 'we shall meet again in Heaven.'"

He had expected immediately to leave America for Burmah, in the same ship which was to take Mrs. Judson back to that country, but the Board decided to detain him some time in this country for further preparation. In June, 1823, he entered on theological studies in the seminary at Andover, and employed all his leisure hours in reading those books in the librarywhich treated of the manners, customs, and religions of heathen countries.

In the spring of 1825 he was called to bid his country farewell. Natural affection was strong, but the call of duty was stronger still. In a letter he says, "If tenderness of feeling—if ardor of affection—if attachment to friends, to Christian society and Christian privileges—if apprehension of toil and danger in a missionary life—if an overwhelming sense of responsibility could detain me in America, I should never go to Burmah." And in his journal—"Welcome separations and farewells; welcome tears; welcome last sad embraces; welcome pangs and griefs; only let me go where my Saviour calls and goes himself; welcome toils, disappointments, fatigues and sorrows; WELCOME AN EARLY GRAVE!"

It is easy to imagine that the sympathy and affection between two souls constituted like Miss Hall's and Mr. Boardman's, both of whom were warmed by the same zeal for the cause of Christ and the welfare of the heathen, would be unusually strong; and indeed there is every evidence, that from the time they became fully acquainted, the most tender attachment subsisted between them. "You know," she wrote long afterward to her mother, "how tenderly I loved him;" and to an intimate friend, he said in a privateconversation, "It was not the superiority of her personal charms, though these were by no means small, but it was her intrinsic excellence, heightened by her modest, unobtrusive spirit, that endeared her to my heart."

FOOTNOTES:[5]North American Review.

[5]North American Review.

It was to no slight sacrifice that the parents of Sarah Hall were summoned, when called to consent to her departure for Burmah. The eldest of a large family—arrived at an age when she could not only share her mother's duties and labors, but be to her a sympathizing friend—possessed of every quality which could endear her to her parents' hearts—emphatically their joy and pride—how could they resign her—especially how could they consent to her life-long exile from her native land; to end perchance in a cruel martyrdom on a heathen shore? Can we wonder that the mother clinging to her daughter's neck, exclaimed, "I cannot, cannot part with you!" or that the moment of departure must arrive, before she could falter, "My child,I hopeI am willing?"

Her own feelings on leaving the home of her youth with him who was henceforth to supply to her theplace of all other friends, are breathed in these graceful lines.

"When far from those whose tender careProtected me from ills when young;And far from those who love to hearAffection from a sister's tongue;When on a distant heathen shore,The deep blue ocean I shall see;And know the waves which hither boreOur bark, have left me none but thee;Perhaps a thought of childhood's daysWill cause a tear to dim my eye;And fragments of forgotten laysMay wake the echo of a sigh.Oh! wilt thou then forgive the tear?Forgive the throbbings of my heart?And point to those blest regions, whereFriends meet, and never, never part!And when shall come affliction's storm,When some deep, unexpected griefShall pale my cheek, and waste my form,Then wilt thou point to sweet relief?And wilt thou, then, with soothing voice,Of Jesus' painful conflicts tell?And bid my aching heart rejoice,In these kind accents—'All is well?'When blooming health and strength shall flyAnd I the prey of sickness prove,Oh! wilt thou watch with wakeful eye,The dying pillow of thy love?And when the chilling hand of deathShall lead me to my house in heavenAnd to the damp, repulsive earth,In cold embrace, this form be given;Oh, need I ask thee, wilt thou then,Upon each bright and pleasant eve,Seek out the solitary glen,To muse beside my lonely grave?And while fond memory back shall steal,To scenes and days forever fled;Oh, let the veil of love concealThe frailties of the sleeping dead.And thou may'st weep and thou may'st joy,For 'pleasant is the joy of grief;'And when thou look'st with tearful eyeTo heaven, thy God will give relief.Wilt thou, then, kneel beside the sodOf her who kneels with thee no more,And give thy heart anew to God,Who griefs unnumbered for thee bore?And while on earth thy feet shall rove,To scenes of bliss oft raise thine eye,Where, all-absorbed in holy love,I wait to hail thee to the sky."

"When far from those whose tender careProtected me from ills when young;And far from those who love to hearAffection from a sister's tongue;

When on a distant heathen shore,The deep blue ocean I shall see;And know the waves which hither boreOur bark, have left me none but thee;Perhaps a thought of childhood's daysWill cause a tear to dim my eye;And fragments of forgotten laysMay wake the echo of a sigh.Oh! wilt thou then forgive the tear?Forgive the throbbings of my heart?And point to those blest regions, whereFriends meet, and never, never part!

And when shall come affliction's storm,When some deep, unexpected griefShall pale my cheek, and waste my form,Then wilt thou point to sweet relief?

And wilt thou, then, with soothing voice,Of Jesus' painful conflicts tell?And bid my aching heart rejoice,In these kind accents—'All is well?'When blooming health and strength shall flyAnd I the prey of sickness prove,Oh! wilt thou watch with wakeful eye,The dying pillow of thy love?

And when the chilling hand of deathShall lead me to my house in heavenAnd to the damp, repulsive earth,In cold embrace, this form be given;Oh, need I ask thee, wilt thou then,Upon each bright and pleasant eve,Seek out the solitary glen,To muse beside my lonely grave?And while fond memory back shall steal,To scenes and days forever fled;Oh, let the veil of love concealThe frailties of the sleeping dead.

And thou may'st weep and thou may'st joy,For 'pleasant is the joy of grief;'And when thou look'st with tearful eyeTo heaven, thy God will give relief.

Wilt thou, then, kneel beside the sodOf her who kneels with thee no more,And give thy heart anew to God,Who griefs unnumbered for thee bore?And while on earth thy feet shall rove,To scenes of bliss oft raise thine eye,Where, all-absorbed in holy love,I wait to hail thee to the sky."

On the 3d of July, 1825, the marriage took place, Miss Hall being then 21 years old, and Mr. Boardman 24. His slender figure, and transparent complexion, even then seemed to indicate that his mission on earth might soon be fulfilled, but both he and his bride were young and sanguine, and no misgivings for the future disturbed their happiness in each other. Indeed the grief of parting with all they had ever loved and cherished, though chastened by submission to what they believed the Divine call, was sufficient to merge all lighter causes of anxiety.

On the day following their marriage they left Salem for the place of embarkation. They were to sail first to Calcutta, and if on reaching there the troubles in Burmah should prevent their going at once to that country, they were to remain in Calcutta, and apply themselves to the acquisition of the Burman language.

In expectation of their speedy departure, meetings for special prayer were held at Boston, Salem, New York, and Philadelphia. The spirit which animated these meetings, and breathed in all the supplications offered, was indicative of deep interest in the mission, and of united and determined resolution, by the grace of God to support it. Mr. and Mrs. B. were everywhere received with the utmost kindness, and nothing was withheld which could contribute to animate them in their arduous undertaking, and render their future voyage pleasant and healthful. The captain and other officers of the ship Asia in which they were to sail, made the most ample provision for their comfort and accommodation, and rendered them every attention in a manner most grateful to their feelings. At a concert of prayer in Philadelphia, Mr. Boardman was called upon to give a brief account to the audience of the motives which had induced him to devote his life to the missionary service. In his reply, he took occasion in the first place to acknowledge the goodness of God to him through his whole life. When he enteredWaterville College—the first student ever admitted there not hopefully pious—his fellow-students, impressed with this fact, solemnly engaged with each other, unknown to him, to remember him in their supplications, until their prayers for his conversion should be answered. Six months from that time he found peace in believing, and his first prayer was that God would make him useful. His mind was so impressed with the condition of our Indian tribes, that he felt inclined to carry to them the message of salvation. But his venerable father, whom he consulted as to his duty, advised him "to wait on God, and He would conduct him in the right way." After some time, his choice was decided in favor of the Burman mission by such indications, that he considered his call to this service distinctly and plainly marked. He adverted in a very tender manner to some peculiar indications of Providence, especially to the manner in which his parents received the knowledge of his determination. Their remark was,It has long been our desire to do something for the mission; and if God will accept our son, we make the surrender with cheerfulness.[6]

In reading this account, do we not feel emotions of moral sublimity in contemplating these tender and aged parents, who, "moved with love for a benevolent God, and for their fellow-creatures, surrender their sonbright with talents and virtues, rich in learning and in the respect of all who knew him, but feeble and sickly in body, to the missionary labor—whose certain and speedy end is death?"[7]

Mrs. Boardman with her husband took her final leave of her beloved native land on the 16th of July, 1825. To her sister, when two weeks out at sea, she writes: "We think we never enjoyed better health. That beneficent Parent, who is ever doing us good, has bestowed upon us, in the officers of the ship, obliging and affectionate friends.... Everything regarding our table, is convenient and agreeable as we could enjoy on shore. Our family consists of the captain, two mates, two supercargoes, a physician, Mrs. Fowler, and ourselves. Mr. Blaikie, the chief supercargo, is not only a gentleman, but is decidedly pious, and strictly evangelical in his sentiments.... It is a great comfort to each of us to find one who is ever ready to converse upon those subjects which relate to the extension of the Redeemer's kingdom. It is most grateful to my own feelings, but I am even more rejoiced for the sake of Mr. B. Religious society has ever been to him a source of much real gratification. You know very well the love he has ever manifested for social intercourse. When in America amidst our beloved friends, as I have seen him enter with all hisheart into conversation—have seen joy beam from his eyes when engaged in this delightful employment—I would sigh, and say to myself, dear Mr. B. how sad you will be when far removed from those whose words now so often cheer your heart. What will you do when this favorite rill of pleasure ceases to flow? But God is infinitely good, he is far better to us than our fears. He bestows upon us every blessing essential to our happiness and usefulness. It is not thewantof privileges that I need lament, but themisimprovementof them."

In another letter, she expresses her mature conviction that the missionary life if entered upon with right feelings may be more favorable than any other to the promotion of spiritual growth. And certain it is, that trials, and even persecution often develop the power of Christian principle, and the strength of religious faith; while ease and outward prosperity seem to lull the souls of believers into an unworthy sloth and a sinful conformity with the world around them. The soldier of Christ must maintain a warfare; and when will he be more likely to be constantly awake to his duty, than when surrounded by the open and avowed enemies of his Master?

From Chitpore four miles above Calcutta, Mr. Boardman writes: "It gives me much pleasure to write you from the shores of India. Through the goodness ofGod we arrived at Sand-Heads on the 23d ult., after a voyage of 127 days. We were slow in our passage up the Hoogly, and did not arrive in Calcutta until the 2d inst. We had a very agreeable voyage,—religious service at meals, evening prayers in the cabin, and when the weather allowed, public worship in the steerage on Lord's day morning ... allow me to add that we entertain a hope that one of the sailors was converted on the passage.

"The report of our being at Sand-Heads reached Calcutta several days before we did, and our friends had made kind preparations to receive us. Soon after coming in sight of the city, we had the pleasure of welcoming on board the Asia, the Rev. Mr. Hough. He informed us, that the Burmese war was renewed after an armistice of several weeks, and that no well-authenticated accounts had been received from our dear friends Judson and Price at Ava. It is generally supposed that they are imprisoned with other foreigners, and have not the means of sending round to Bengal.

"At noon, Dec. 2d, we came on shore, ... and were received very kindly by the English Missionaries. We found Mrs. Colman waiting with a carriage to bring us out to this place. The cottage we occupy was formerly the residence of Mr. and Mrs. Eustace Carey. Mr. and Mrs. Wade, Mrs. Colman, Mrs. Boardman and myself, compose a very happy American family.... But we long to be laboring in Burmah. We are not yet discouraged by the dark cloud that hangs over our prospects there. We still hope and trust,we firmly believe, that eventually this war will tend to advance the cause of Christ in Burmah. We hope our friends at home will not be discouraged, but will continue to pray for us."

In another letter he says, "And now, my dear parents, I wish you could make a visit at Chitpore. You would find your two fond children sitting together very happily, and engaged in writing letters to their beloved American friends. Our mansion, to be sure, is but a bamboo cottage, with a thatched roof, but is a palace compared with most of the native huts around us. But you know a large house is by no means essential to happiness. Food and clothing sufficient, with the presence of God, are all that is absolutely necessary. Could a man have in addition, one confidential friend, who sympathized in all his joys and sorrows, and with whom he could enjoy all the endearments of social life, he might be happy indeed—and such a friend, such a wife I have, in my beloved Sarah. I fear I shall never be able to discharge the obligations I feel toward you for conferring on me so great a blessing."

Mrs. B. also writes to some acquaintances, "Unite with me, my respected friends, in gratitude to God, thathe has preserved us through the dangers of a long voyage, and permitted us to land upon a heathen shore. Oh may this renewed assurance of his kind care, teach me confidence in his promises, and fill me with ardent desires to be constantly employed in his service.

"Our voyage was remarkably pleasant, our suffering from sea-sickness was much lighter than we had anticipated; our accommodations, though by no means handsome, convenient and comfortable as we could desire. Our table was well furnished with the necessaries, and many of the luxuries of life. Capt. Sheed, and the other gentlemen on board, treated us with the greatest kindness, and appeared solicitous to make our situation agreeable. In the society of Mr. Blaikie, the supercargo, we took much delight. He is a gentleman of eminent piety, belonging to the Presbyterian denomination. We had evening devotions in the cabin, ... when the weather allowed we had divine service between decks on the Sabbath. A precious privilege!

"While at sea, my time was spent in a very agreeable, and I hope not unprofitable manner.... The principal books I read besides the Bible, were the life of Parsons, Lowth's lectures on Hebrew poetry, part of Fuller's works, and of Jones' Church History. Supposing the study of the word of God well calculated to prepare my mind for the missionary work, I directedmy chief attention to that. We had one very interesting exercise,—during the week several of us collected as many passages of scripture as we were able, upon a subject previously named; and on Sabbath eve, we compared our separate lists, and conversed freely upon the doctrine or duty concerning which we had written. In this manner we discussed many of the most important doctrines and duties contained in Scripture.

As we drew near Calcutta, our anxiety respecting the fate of our dear missionaries at Ava, increased. We trembled when we thought of the disturbances in Burmah, and there was only one spot where we could find peace and serenity of mind. That sweet spot was the throne of grace. Thither we would often repair and lose all anxiety and fear respecting our dear friends, our own future prospects, and the Missionary cause in Burmah. It was sweet to commit all into the hands of God. If not deceived, we felt the importance of constantly pleading for a suitable frame of mind, to receive whatever intelligence was for us; and for a disposition to engage in the service of God, at any time, and in any place he might direct. We considered it our duty to supplicate for grace to support us in the hour of trial, and for direction in time of perplexity, rather than to employ our minds in anticipating the nature of future difficulties, and in fancying how we should conduct in an imagined perplexity. This is still our opinion."

Then follows an account of their arrival, which we have already given in Mr. Boardman's letter, and she adds: "Imagine, dear Mrs. B. our joy at meeting those with whom we hope to be employed in labors of love among the poor Burmans. I shall not attempt to describe the emotions of my heart when I entered the little bamboo cottage we now occupy. Were I skilled in perspective drawing, I would send you a picture of the charming landscape seen from our verandah. In a little hut near us reside two Christian converts from heathenism. Oh, how your bosom would glow with grateful rapture to hear their songs of praise, and listen to their fervent prayers. We prefer living in this retired spot with dear Mr. and Mrs. Wade and Mrs. Colman, to a situation in Calcutta; we can pursue our studies with less interruption, and also have the advantage of Mr. Wade's assistance.

"The war in Burmah still continues, and there is at present very little prospect of our going to Rangoon soon. We still look to Burmah as our earthly home, and daily pray that we may be permitted ere long to enter that field of labor. We rejoice that we can commence the study of the language here. We have not for an instant regretted that we embarked in the undertaking."

In another letter of a later date she writes from Calcutta: "In compliance with the advice of our friends, we are now residing in a pleasant little house in Calcutta. I regretted exceedingly to leave the peaceful, retired shades of Chitpore for the noise and commotion of a city, but duty appeared to require it"—(the climate at Chitpore is insalubrious in the hot months) "and we all cheerfully submitted. I feel, my dear friend, that we are wanderers. I can look to no place as my earthly home, but Burmah.... We have not yet heard from the brethren at Ava. Oh that our Father in Heaven may prepare our hearts for whatever intelligence we may receive.

"On Monday last, I attended the examination of Mrs. Colman's schools. Imagine my feelings at seeing ninety-two little Bengallee girls, (whose mothers are kept in the most degraded ignorance and superstition,) taught to read the Scriptures.... This was only one division of the schools. The whole number belonging to this Society is nearly four hundred. There are also many other interesting schools in Calcutta.

"Mr. and Mrs. Wade with Mr. B. and myself still compose our family; we are very happy in each other, are blessed with excellent health, enjoy facilities for learning the language, and in short, possess all we could desire. We feel our want of ardent piety.... Pray for us, for we are weak and sinful."

A letter to one of her own family of about the samedate, shows that her zeal for the conversion of the heathen, did not at all weaken her desire that her own kindred might be true followers of Jesus. After mentioning that a Burman teacher had been procured for them, &c., she says, "I often imagine myself in the midst of that dear family, where the happy hours of childhood flew away. Sometimes I fancy myself entering the room in the morning, and seeing you all kneeling around the family altar. My brother, have you a heart to pray to God? Have you repented and turned to him? Or are you all careless and indifferent respecting your precious soul? No, I cannot believe this is the case. Indulged as you are with hearing the gospel and other means of grace, you cannot be indifferent. The time is coming when the religion of Jesus will be indispensable to your peace of mind. You must pass through the valley of death. How can you endure that gloom without the light of God's countenance? you must stand before a righteous God at the judgment day. What will be the state of your soul if Jesus is not your friend?Think of this."

A letter from Mrs. Wade written in the spring following, speaks with enthusiasm of the pleasure they have enjoyed in the society of Mr. and Mrs. B, and, like theirs, breathes ardent wishes to be able to go to Burmah. These wishes were soon to be realized. A letter from Mr. Boardman dated Calcutta, April 12th,1826, commences: "My dear Brother,—The joyful news of peace with Ava, and of the safety of our friends Dr. and Mrs. Judson, and Dr. Price, you will doubtless receive from other sources. We can only say that the preservation of our friends both at Rangoon and at Ava, seems to us one of the most striking and gracious displays of God's special care of his people and his cause, which has been experienced in modern times.

"Brother Wade and myself, with our beloved companions, expect to leave Calcutta in six or eight weeks, to join brother Judson. As Rangoon is not retained by the British, we do not think it best to recommence the work there, but rather to settle in some of the towns which are by treaty ceded to the British.... The members of the church in Rangoon are collecting and will probably go with us. We need divine direction.

"We have great reason to be thankful for the health we enjoy. We long to proceed to Burmah and engage in the delightful work before us. May God's strength be made perfect in our weakness."

But his cherished enterprise was still longer delayed. By the solicitation of the English missionaries, and the appointment of the American Board, he was induced to remain in Calcutta a while, and preach in Circular Road Chapel, recently vacated by the death of Mr.Lawson. Mr. Wade and his wife reached Rangoon on the 9th of November, and found there the desolate and heart-stricken Mr. Judson, and his feeble babe, of whom Mrs. Wade was able for a brief period to supply the place of a mother.

The place fixed upon as the seat of government in the newly acquired British territory in Burmah, was Amherst, on the Martaban river, about 75 miles eastward of Rangoon. This place had been laid out by British engineers under Mr. Judson's direction, and in an incredibly short time, became a city numbering in thousands of houses. In southern India, houses are built almost in a day, and the population fluctuates from place to place with a facility surprising to Europeans. It is only necessary to make a clearing in the jungle, and erect barracks for a few soldiers, and—as water rushes at once into hollows scooped in the damp sea-sand—so do the natives of India swarm into the clearing, and create a city.' To this new city of Amherst Mr. and Mrs. Boardman came in the spring of 1827, and joined Mr. and Mrs. Wade and Mr. Judson. It was bitterly painful to them to learn that the wife of the latter, that noble and beloved woman whose life had been preserved as if by miracle in a thousand dangers, and from whose society and intercourse they had hoped and expected the greatest pleasure and profit, was the tenant of a lowly gravebeneath the hopia-tree; and even more immediately distressing to find that her heart-broken husband was just about to consign to the same dreary bed the only relic remaining to him of his once lovely family, 'the sweet little Maria.' One of Mr. Boardman's first labors in Burmah was to make a coffin for the child with his own hands! and to assist in its burial. Poor babe! 'so closed its brief, eventful history.' An innocent sharer in the terrible sufferings of its parents, in the midst of which indeed it came into the world; like its mother, it had survived through countless threatening deaths, and reached what seemed a haven of security, only to wring its father's heart with an intenser pang, by its unexpected and untimely death. Truly the ways of God 'are past finding out,' and 'his judgments are a great deep!'

From a short poem full of sympathy and pious sentiment which was written by Mrs. Boardman on this occasion, we select some passages.

"Ah this is death, my innocent! 'tis heWhose chilling hand has touched thy tender frame.Thou heed'st us not; not e'en the bursting sobOf thy dear father, now can pierce thine ear.Thy mother's tale replete with varied scenes,Exceeds my powers to tell; but other harpsAnd other voices, sweeter far than mine,Shall sing her matchless worth, her deeds of love,Her zeal, her toil, her sufferings and her death.But all is over now. She sweetly sleepsIn yonder new-made grave; and thou, sweet babe,Shalt soon be pillowed on her quiet breast.Yes, ere to-morrow's sun shall gild the west,Thy father shall have said a long adieuTo the last lingering hope of earthly joy;For thou, Maria, wilt have found thy rest.Thy flesh shall rest in hope, till that great dayWhen He who once endured far greater woesThan mortal man can know; who when on earthReceived such little children in his arms,Graciously blessing them, shall come again;Then like the glorious body of thy LordWho wakes thy dust, this fragile frame shall be.Then shalt thou mount with him on angels' wingsBe freed from sorrow, sickness, sin and death.And in his presence find eternal bliss."

"Ah this is death, my innocent! 'tis heWhose chilling hand has touched thy tender frame.

Thou heed'st us not; not e'en the bursting sobOf thy dear father, now can pierce thine ear.

Thy mother's tale replete with varied scenes,Exceeds my powers to tell; but other harpsAnd other voices, sweeter far than mine,Shall sing her matchless worth, her deeds of love,Her zeal, her toil, her sufferings and her death.But all is over now. She sweetly sleepsIn yonder new-made grave; and thou, sweet babe,Shalt soon be pillowed on her quiet breast.Yes, ere to-morrow's sun shall gild the west,Thy father shall have said a long adieuTo the last lingering hope of earthly joy;For thou, Maria, wilt have found thy rest.Thy flesh shall rest in hope, till that great dayWhen He who once endured far greater woesThan mortal man can know; who when on earthReceived such little children in his arms,Graciously blessing them, shall come again;Then like the glorious body of thy LordWho wakes thy dust, this fragile frame shall be.Then shalt thou mount with him on angels' wingsBe freed from sorrow, sickness, sin and death.And in his presence find eternal bliss."

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