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.”