Eminent Women of Modern Times : Part 11

Woman; Man's Equal
by Thomas Webster

(Page 19 of 20)

They arrived at their destination on the third day, and found awaiting them nearly a hundred natives, more than half of whom were applicants for baptism. The place prepared for the accommodation of Mr. and Mrs. Boardman and their little boy, was a room five feet wide and ten feet long, so low that Mrs. Boardman could not stand upright in it, and so insufficiently inclosed as not to shelter the sufferer from the cold and damp of the night air, or the scorching rays of the sun by day. Those who have known what it is to watch beside dying loved ones, witnessing suffering that they were powerless to relieve, can imagine the anguish that Mrs. Boardman endured in seeing her husband so near his end in that miserable place, destitute of the little comforts so needful in sickness. But with heroic determination she repressed her own sorrow, lest it might incapacitate her for assisting him while rallying his expiring energies for one more effort in his Master's cause. The poor worn body, though, was found unequal to the task assigned it by the zealous spirit, and he was forced to admit that his work was done.

Mrs. Boardman, speaking of their return journey, in which they were accompanied by large numbers of the sorrowing native converts, says: "But at four o'clock in the afternoon, we were overtaken by a violent shower of rain, accompanied by lightning and thunder. There was no house in sight, and we were obliged to remain in the open air, exposed to the merciless storm. We covered him with mats and blankets, and held our umbrellas over him, all to no purpose. I was obliged to stand and see the storm beating upon him till his mattress and pillows were drenched with rain. We hastened on, and soon came to a Tavoy house. The inhabitants at first refused us admittance.... After some persuasion, they admitted us into the house, or rather veranda; for they would not allow us to sleep inside, though I begged the privilege for my sick husband with tears.... The rain still continued, and his cot was wet, so that he was obliged to lie on the bamboo floor. Having found a place where our little boy could sleep without danger of falling through openings in the floor, I threw myself down, without undressing, beside my beloved husband."

Thus they passed the last night of his life; and, before another night, it was but a lifeless corpse that the attendants were bearing back to her now desolate home.

In her grief and loneliness, her heart doubtless yearned for the soothing sympathy of her kindred and friends in her native land. Who would have censured her, if in view of what had been achieved among the natives since their coming to Tavoy, and of all the trials and toils and dangers of her Indian life, it had seemed to her that her work was accomplished; and that it would then be no desertion of duty for her, with her little boy to educate, to return to America? If, during the first sad days of her bereavement, such thoughts flitted through her mind, they did not long find lodgment there. Soon the native converts began to come to her, as of old, with their difficulties and perplexities, and inquiries for instruction. The duty of responding to these appeals forbade the indulgence of engrossing sorrow, and caused her to realize that, when work for the Master was pressing on every hand, and one of the laborers had fallen in the field, his fellow-laborers, instead of relaxing their efforts, should feel it imperative on them, if possible, to redouble their diligence.

Thenceforward her labors became more onerous than they had been during Mr. Boardman's life; and they continued so, even after the arrival of the new missionaries, Mr. Mason and his wife, who of necessity were chiefly occupied with the study of the language. In one of her letters of this period she says:

"Every moment of my time is occupied, from sunrise till ten in the evening. It is late bed-time, and I am surrounded by five Karen women.... The Karens are beginning to come to us in companies; and with them, and our scholars in the town, and the care of my darling boy, you will scarce think I have much leisure for letter-writing."

Later, she writes: "The superintendence of the food and clothing of both the boarding-schools, together with the care of five day-schools under native teachers, devolves wholly on me."

She also made difficult journeys through the wild jungles to the Karen villages, to strengthen, encourage, and instruct the poor natives; thus performing efficiently, though informally, the work of an evangelist.

After her marriage with Dr. Judson, and her consequent return to Maulmain, she was still busily engaged in conducting schools, Bible-class, etc., besides attending to her family. She also learned the Peguan language, into which she translated the New Testament, a Life of Christ, and several tracts. In Burmese she had previously become proficient, and she translated "Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress" into that language. A number of the hymns prepared for the use of the mission were also from her pen.

At Maulmain she was exposed to fewer vicissitudes and dangers than at Tavoy, so that the intrepid aspect of her character became less conspicuous; but her life was filled up with increased maternal responsibilities and domestic cares, added to other arduous labors of the same class with those which she had previously discharged with so much sound judgment, and in which she exhibited so happily the ability to influence and govern those under her control, and at the same time to win their love and reverence for herself. One of her biographers says of her:

"Sweetness and strength, gentleness and firmness, were in her character most happily blended. Her mind was both poetical and practical. She had a refined taste, and a love for the beautiful as well as the excellent."

In early life she wooed the Muses with respectable success; and though the stern labors of mature years left her little leisure for the indulgence of poetic fancies, yet the last expression of her love committed to writing flowed from her pen in numbers of touching grace and tenderness.

Source: New York: Nelson And Phillips. 1873