They buried him in lowly pomp--_the pomp of death_. All the European residents of the place and crowds of natives to whom he had endeared himself followed him to his burial. They laid him down on the right side of his first born, and returned home to weep, and many to _forget_. But there was one who could never forget--no, never. The object of her early love had been stricken down, and in lonely widowhood she was left to bewail his loss. But, though cast down, she was not forsaken. The Savior was her portion; and in this hour of trial she leaned on him. In her terrible visitation she saw the traces of Jehovah's care; and, committing herself and her fatherless child to him, her soul rested in hope. During the time which elapsed between the death of Mr. Boardman and her marriage with Dr. Judson the afflicted widow labored with all her might to do the will of her Master. Not content with instructing the lisping child and tender youth, she travelled from village to village with her little boy and a few attendants. Wherever she went she was met with kindness. The death of the white teacher had unsealed even the wild heart of heathenism; and the widow was an object of universal interest. It is doubtful if at any period of her life she exhibited more lovely traits of character, or accomplished a greater amount of good in an equal space of time, than while moving along her tearful way from the grave of one husband to the marriage chamber of another. After having remained a widow four years, Mrs. B. was, in April, 1834, united in marriage to Dr. Judson. The parties were well acquainted with each other, and both understood the wants and privations of a missionary life. This new marriage was a new proof of devotion to Christ and his cause; and when Mrs. B. a second time gave herself to a missionary husband, it was a new and sublime token of her determination to live a missionary life. Had she been so disposed, she might have returned to the home and friends of her youth; but, with a full conception of all that would await her, she again gave herself, for life, to Jesus and the perishing heathen. Her little George, who had been to her torn and lacerated heart such a source of comfort, began to fail; and his mother determined to send him to America. But how could she part with her darling one? How could she behold him borne away to a distant land, to see her face no more? But with the same submission which she had ever manifested she bowed to this new bereavement, and kissed the cheek of her child and sent him away. It was a trial for which she had prepared herself; and it proved almost equal to any which had preceded it. But, knowing the importance of the step, she cheerfully acquiesced with the fortitude of a Christian.