ace of
that beloved laborer in the Burman field. Still his chief aim was to
leave the _place_ of 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 took _him_
by 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 library which 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." An
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