to have been assured by her that the bitterness of death is past, and that heavenly glories have been unfolded in a wonderful and unexpected manner to her view.”  And again he says, seemingly losing for a moment his strong confidence, “What will become of my children, what will become of the schools—­of the poor native women—­what will become of me, if she die?” But she recovered, and “his thankfulness knew no bounds, his letters are eloquent in their utterance of joy and praise.”

In a letter of Dec. 2, 1830, Mrs. Boardman records another affliction.  “God has come very near to us and wounded our hearts afresh.  Our youngest child, aged 8 months, went from us to meet his sainted sister, in September last.  We mourn, but not without hope; for we shall soon be in that blissful world—­be pure and lovely like our departed ones in glory.”  And Mr. Boardman says:  “Our hearts have been pierced anew by the loss of our dear babe....  He was 8 months old, and though generally feeble, one of the most lovely and interesting of babes.  The Lord has dealt with us severely, but not unkindly.  He gave and he hath taken away.”

Both these devoted missionaries knew, however, that the best defence against such trials as they endured, is found in a steady performance of duty.  In trouble as well as in joy, they devoted themselves to their great object—­saving souls.—­How different from those who make a sort of merit of “indulging the luxury of grief;” and show their regard for the memory of the dead by neglecting their duties to the living!  Christianity, while it inculcates and fosters the tenderest sensibility to the chastisements of our heavenly Parent, never allows us in any calamity, to fold our hands in inactive despair.  Our pathway is filled with duties; and,

    “Heart within, and God o’er head,”

we must, like our Master, “go about doing good,” though we may feel “cast down, pressed out of measure,” by affliction.

Speaking of a severe illness about this time, Mr. Boardman says:  “Death seemed near, ... but had no alarms, no terrors....  My beloved family and the perishing heathen, were all that made me in the least degree unwilling to die.  And even them I could resign to the hands of a gracious and covenant-keeping God.”  In one of the last letters he ever wrote, he thus records his testimony to the devotedness of his beloved wife.  “During my present protracted illness, and when I was at the worst stage, she was the tenderest, most assiduous, attentive and affectionate of nurses.  Without her, I think I should have finished my career in a few days.  And even when our lamented, darling babe lay struggling in the very arms of death, though she was with him constantly, night and day, she did not allow me to suffer one moment, for lack of her attentions.  I cannot write what I feel on this tender subject.  But oh what kindness in our Heavenly Father, that when her services were so much needed, her health was preserved, and she had strength given her to perform her arduous labors.”