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.