The sun

Yon high upheaved and heaven-aspiring hills,
Which seem to own no brotherhood with earth,
But claim a kindred with the sacred skies,
Rise they before us voiceless, meaningless ?
Stand they not there like everlasting teachers
With silent eloquence directing man,
Beyond the boundaries of this little world,
To something higher, nobler far, above?
Stand they not there types of all holy men
Who, raised above the tainted air of earth,
Live in the purer atmosphere of heaven;
And with the calm and placid eye of faith,
Lifted above the seen and temporal,
Gaze ever on the eternal and unseen?
Those hills rise not in vain. All things conspire
To make them eloquent to man.
Brightens at early morn with golden light;
And with sweet farewell beams kisses at eve
Their lofty peaks; while in the vale below
Slow creep the shades of night: to tell us how
God lifts the light of his bright countenance,
And holy joy sheds her sun gleaming smiles
Upon the good, who rise above the world
And climb toward heaven, when on the worldling's heart
Who clings to earth and grovels in the dust,
Sadness and disappointment and despair
Shadow their giant forms. The uncaverned wind,
Bending the forest in its onward march,
Battles around them, and the sieging storm
Booms its loud thunders, and wings forth its shafts
Snatched from the lightnings quiver, o'er their heads,
As firm, nnmoved and scatheless, still they stand,
Though man's proud temples tremble to the base;-
To shew us the security and strength
Which virtue has, beleaguered by her foes,
When her foundation has been wisely laid
Upon the Rock of Ages. Then the robe
Of pure white snow which hoary winter throws
In shining beauty round them, while below
His cheerless frown, darkens the dreary vale,
Reminds us that those only will be clothed
With robes of light above, whose lives have been
One constant stretching forth to things divine,
One ceaseless aspiration after God.

Oh ye who dwell amid the hum of men,
And cringe in vile world-worship with the crowd,
Look forth unto the hills and learn of them ;
For ever do they teach eternal truth,
And with a voice divine cry out— Aspire,
Children of clay, to immortality;
Lift up your hearts on high, to heaven-to God !



LETTER FROM REV. J. BUCKLEY. , trol. He appointsin what part of the firma.

ment they shall shine, and how long tbeir Cuttack, Sep. 1, 1851.

grateful light shall be continued. My Dear BROTHER,- We have had much In the midst of the trials and afflictions to humble us and teach us our dependence that befal one and another, I am thankful upon the Lord since I last wrote. The death to tell you that the Lord has not forsaken us of our dear sister, Mrs. Miller, was a solemn nor forgotten us. A few have recently been and affecting Providence; and the continued added to the churches at Cuttack and Choga; and severe illness of brother Wilkinson is a and one or two others are waiting for admis. very painful dispensation; but as these trials sion. It would be most delightful if we hefal us by the appointment of the Most could tell you of hundreds and thousands High, it is ours humbly to bow and bless being pricked to the heart, gladly receiving the pame of the Lord. God is saying to us the word, and being baptized in the name of by these events, ‘Be still, and know that I the Lord, but the additions of twos and am God. I will be exalted among the hea.

tbrees who have, it is trusted, experienced a then.' The cause in which we are engaged gracious change is not to be despised ; in. is infinitely dearer to Him than to its warm. deed, wlien the immortality of spiritual est earthly friends; and He can make these blessings is considered, the salvation of one events which to us appear so mysterious and is an event of transcendent and infinite im. trying, to fall out to the furtherance of the portance. I think of the matter on this gospel. Let us hope and pray that this may wise: if a considerable number of persons be the issue. You will probably receive in. were perishing in the water, and if a benevo. telligence of brother Wilkinson's health ten lent person, after much exertion, should save or twelve days later than any I can give. It

two or three of them from death, what is painful for him, and his beloved wife, thankfulness and joy he would feel in thinkthat he should have to leave his appointed ing that he had been privileged to sare a few sphere of labour for so long a time as four of his fellow.creatures from the jaws of months! but I sincerely hope, if it be the

death. A benevolent nature could have no Divine will, that this change may avert the purer or more elevated satisfaction than such necessity for his return home. The future reflections would give; and hard indeed is, however, in the Lord's hands, and he would be the heart that could feel no sympawill do that which is for the best. Pray for thy with his satisfaction and joy in rescuing us that our trials may purify us from all ad. a few from a watery grave, because much mixture of self and sin in our motives and the larger number perished. Such is the actions, (how much there is in all of us that satisfaction we should feel in the quiet, cannot be approved by him who is 'of purer though by no means rapid progress of the eyes than to behold evil!') and that we may cause amongst us.

Multitudes are living be vessels of honour, sanctified and meet for and dying in sin, and going where redempthe Master's use. I have several times tion cannot reach them. Over them we dolately thought of one of Matthew Henry's we cannot but mourn. In Zion's ways we prayers; May our hearts be humbled under see but here and there a traveller, and some humbling providences.'

of those who appear to be in the way often Nor is this all; one of our American grieve us by their careless and inconsistent brethren, Mr. Bacheler of Balasore, is obliged walk. Still, while God honors bis servants to leave for America. The ill health of his to save, though it be but a few souls from estimable wife renders this painful step in. death, we will be thankful and rejoice. dispensably necessary; but I hope after two

Your affectionate brother, or three years absence, they may be permit.

J. BUCKLEY. ted to return, long to labour for the good of Orissa. They expect to leave India in De. cember next, and to go via England; 80 that you may probably see them. If you | LETTER FROM REV. I. STUBBINS. should do so, remember Philippians ii. 29. Fow are the stars that shine in this dark

Berhampore, near Ganjam, land, and it is very afflictive when one and

August 23, 1851, another are taken from their orbs; but it is MY DEAR BROTHER GOADBY,-Your very very encouraging to remember that these welcome general epistle, full of encourage. stars are in the right hand of Christ—there. ment and information, reached us at a time foro very dear to him, and subject lo his con. when of all others consolation was most need

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ed; for we were in the midst of deep anxiety resident (in one place I mean) within a circle and depression. I feel that I ought now to of a hundred miles!! Our Millers, Friyes, write you, but what to say I know not, unless McViccars, Hares, &c., &c., are all gone. I give you an Ezekiel's roll, full of ‘lamenta- | Why it's absolutely dreadful.

One sees tion and mourning and woe.' It is always oneself a solitary tree with all the surroundmore agreeable to dwell on the cheerful and ing forest cleared. Surely I'm not Methusepleasing, and to exbibit the brightest side of lah! Well, in spite of all we can sing; the pillar that attends us; but it is not I wonld not change my blest estate always most profitable to keep in the back For all the world calls rich and great.' ground the gloomy and painful, nor to bold But my roll is not yet filled. This is merely from your gaze the dark side of the pillar, the introduction, and the least trying part. especially as it may induce those who love You speak of your thermometer being 67° on us and our work to pray the more ardently the 16th of May. What ours was then I for us. In our seasons of darkness we are cant say, but on the 12th of May I noticed sometimes tempted to think that friends at it, and it was then 103,o and that in the home journey on the high way wherein are coolest room in the bouse, shewing a differfew obstructions, while we are obliged to ence from yours of 36 degrees! Why the hot thread the densest jungles, to be scratched and bath is from 98 to 105°, so that the temperature torn with thords and briers on every hand. of our atmosphere was nearly the extreme of Are they in anxiety? they can advise with the hot bath! Should you bave any curiosity confidential friends almost at their next that way, just stand over a large bathing tub, door; but we have absolutely none with thermometer in hand, and disperse boiling whom to advise. Are they depressed ? they water through the cold already there till you can court the cheering influence of congenial get a heat of 103°, or as we had it another society; but we have none to court. Are day, 104°; thus prepared, jump in and see they in afflicton ? a thousand appliances are how you like it, and how long you will bear at their command; but we have few, perhaps it; and then remember that you have this none. Why we have sometimes actually to advantage over us, that your head is out. send to Calcutta, a distance of near four hun. A portly' lady at Gopalpore found the heat dred miles, expressly for a few grains of so intolerable that she luxuriated for four medicine! Do they require a change of air hours one day up to the chin in cold (?) water, and scene? a few hours and a few shillings The nights were in proportion to the days, will comfortably convey them to distant shewing the thermometer at ninety-four scenes and friends; but for their hours we degrees during the coldest part of the twentymust employ days, and for their shillings, four hours. I never felt anything like it; it pounds; and that too in the most jolting, un- seemed more than flesh and blood could bear. social coffin-like thing in the world—a palkee, It produced a perfect stagnation in intellect, with' feet foremost and teeth oppermost;' and energy and everything else. We all looked then not to friends, but to strangers, or some absurdly pasty and stupid. Not a bláde of miserable empty bungalow. Is a sinner at green grass was to be seen any where, and home converted ? the minister's heart bounds the poor cattle that managed to survive were with gratitude and praise, and he has only to just like so many walking skeletons. As watch over him spiritually, feed him with might be expected, it prepared the way for an the bread of life, and lead him on to heaven. unusual amount of disease and death. In Is one converted here almost the first many places the small.pox broke out, and thought is, 'How is he to live ?' He must raged most furiously and fatally; and in al. have something for his body as well as his most all that frightful scourge, the cholera, soul. He must be put into the way of get swept away armies of young and old, rich ting a livelihood, and be assisted in doing so. and poor, healthy and sickly, feeble and If he is oppressed, we must rush to his res. strong, so that it might fitly be called 'the

If in a diction, we must be his doctor pestilence that walketh in darkness and the and nurse. All the children, too, under our destruction that wasteth at noon day'. Whole charge require teaching and providing for in villages and towns were deserted by the panic temporal as well as spiritual matters. We it created, and the dead and dying were left have not only to be their teachers, but their in their houses. All humam aid seemed un' father and mother;' to direct them in every availing - the disease began with death. relation and duty of life, and that to such Among ourselves it raged with unparalleled an extent sometimes that gravity would fury, carrying off four of our girls, and ten of laugh and modesty would blush! Nor should Wilkinson's boys. I know not when I pasthe mutations in society escape a passing sed through such a season. It was one of glance. Who at home cannot look upon the constant anxiety and excitement; and as to friends of his former years, the companions sleep, it seemed as though it had departed for of his youth? But here, for instance, am I, ever. Day and night I was listening for the with the exception of an old lady and her cry of cholera from our school, for I felt that daughter, at Gopalpore, the oldest European' I could not depend upon the natives hearing,


nor opon their promptitude in administering | 5th inst., and notwithstanding the almost the remedies. To aggravate the evil my belov. | impassable state of the roads, if continents of ed colleague was most of the time away ill at mud, lakes of water, and rapid deep ravines Gopalpore, and the boys were at the location, can be called roads, I was not a little dewhere it was hoped they would find it more lighted to hear my dear fellow-traveller exhealthy; but alas! they took the disease claim, 'Bless the Lord : I am better than with them, and every few days brought in. when I left home.' I remained with him telligence of the death of some of them. until the night of the 10th, rejoicing to perUnder these circumstances it seemed neces-ceive a gradual improvement in his health sary to send my only assistant, our native and spirits. It had been necessary for medical man, over to the boys. He was soon sister W. to stay behind for a few days, to attacked, and for a time litile hope was enter. make, various arrangements before leaving tained of his recovery. In the midst of all home, but she joined us on the eve of the this distress and anxiety at home, we received 8th. Never shall I forget the 'sepsation I the intelligence of the severe illness, and then experienced when our beloved sister and the death of our devoted sister Miller. This dear little Henry, and all their travelling almost overwhelmed us with grief and an equipage arrived. It looked like such a real guish ; but this woe had not passed away going--a final departure, that with previous before another came; my dear fellow.labourer watching and anxiety it perfectly upset me, brother Wilkinson, became so much worse and brought on an attack of pain from which that bis medical attendants entertained the I now occasionally suffer. Never did I pass most serious apprehensions respectivg him, such a night of perfect restlessness and and with several other friends advised his agony, and but for the most kind attentions immediate departure for England, in the ship of dear brother and sister W., it seemed as thed lying at Gopalpore. This our brother though I could not survive to return to my felt to be more than he could bear, and was beloved wife and family! obliged to leave the room and seek where to Our parting on Sunday night was exceedweep. To many the idea of a return to ingly distressing to us all, especially with the home and friends is most enchanting; and uncertainty whether we should ever again one worthy friend said,' I only wish the doc-behold each other in the flesh ever again tor would have said so to me: India should enjoy the happy privilege of jourveying, not have beld me much longer, I know.' But labouring, and praying together. May God this is not the feeling of the missionary. in his mercy avert our fears and grant us to He comes not to obtain a livelihood and retire realize our fondest hopes! It is consoling with a fortune or princely pension ; and when now to feel that no two families bave ever he leaves be neither missed nor wanted, as is enjoyed a greater degree of happiness, har. the case with the vast majority who visit this mony and love than ourselves and these very country. Of course there are some magnifi. dear friends, especially since Divine Provi. cent exceptions. But he feels that he has dence called us to labour .together at the responsibilities of which none can relieve same station : hence the remotest prospect of bim; that he has to relinquish duties which a their not being able to return is painful in new brother will not for years be able to dis. the extreme. May He who hoars prayer charge. His most fondly cherished hopes graciously hear us now, and speedily restore and plans are abolished; the acquaintance them to share in our toils, our hopes, and our with the language and habits of the people, fears ! which it has cost him years of anxious toil 10 You will rightly judge that the hands of acquire, is lost, and he is obliged to leave my dear wife and myself are now sufficiently those whom he has been instrumental in filled with the entire temporal and spiritual bringing to Christ, to combat all their diffi. charge of both schools, containing more than culties alone; thoso on whose conversion ninety children; the church and nominal his heart was set, to grope their way to eter- christian community both here and at the nity amidst mists and clouds of blackest location; native, Englisb, and bazaar preachdarkness.

ing, &c., &c. But we know who has said But this is a digression. As the doctor My grace is sufficient for you. There is our saw more of our brother, he thought that hope. We would bow with resignation and travelling for a few months, with frequent say. Good is the word of the Lord. I am change of scene and climate, might with the not now feeling prepared to relieve this dark Divine blessiug be a means of restoring him, picture by any opposite lights, and only reand hence, recommended him to travel south serve a little space to add a postscript before as far as Masulipatam, a distance of some I send it off; and in the mean time, with love four hundred miles, and if not well then, as for all who pray for us, remain your affeche hoped he would be, to take a soa voyage. tionate brother in Christ, I. STUBBINS. He also recommended me to accompany him Sep. 1st. This is Monday morning. I for a few days to see how he could bear the am feeling, as you say, Mondayish. Yestertravelling, &c. Accordingly we left on the day, at six o'clock, a. m., I had to bury a Eu

ropean sergeant, and preach in Oriya morn. and lagged behind. As the sun ascended in ing and afternoon, and in English at night, the heavens, the sand increased in heat, the rather a bard day's work in this country, but wird blew fire around his body, and darted could not help myself, as one of my native insufferable rays upon his exposed head; and preachers was at the location, and the two at before he had got more than half the distance, home were unwell. This morning I went he fell exhausted upon the burning sand, and first to the boys' school and bad a general soon expired. He was found black with the inspection of the boys, their premises, houses, horrid draught and the roasting sand, when cook-room, rice, curry, &c., &c.; thence to the heat moderated somewhat towards evensee a poor sick East Indian who I fear is ing. On the next day a flock of monkeys, near the end of his course. Directed him to who had been disporting about on the houses his only hope, prayed with him, and went to of a neighbouring village in the morning, sat condole with the poor widow whose husband in seemingly grave conclave on the bank of I buried yesterday morning, and whose the river, deciding whether or not, they were daughter I buried twelve months ago ; thence to make a venture to the stream of the river I returned to conduct worship in the girls' for water, At length, the large wale, nearly school, and now here I am at my desk, feel the size of a man, about ten o'clock, was obing half disposed to be tired, but must finish served to descend the bank into the river, and this and send it to day to a post office thirteen was followed by all the rest, fourteen in nummiles off, in order to its being in time for the ber. They rested and ran till tbey reached overland mail. By sending it that distance the stream, where they drank to their satisfacI shall gain at least two days upoa the regu- tion. But now to return! They spent some lar post. Splendid postal arrangements in time on the wet sand, and then, headed by their this country!

chief, set out on their return; the sand had become burning hot under foot, and every step they made produced a leap to save their burn.

ing feet; the hot wind covered them with a LETTER FROM REV. C. LACEY.

sheeting as of fire, and they had no retreat; (Continued from page 534 )

to go forward and to return were alike impos.

sible. One by one they fell exhausted, and We have just passed one of the most awful died, till not one survived! While the southhot seasons India ever experienced. I never erly wind prevails, we have the wind cool till saw its like during my residence of 28 years. about nine in the morning, and after five in For eight months, within a few days, no rain the afternoon, in consequence of our vicinity descended to cool the scorched earth, and to the sea, on the south of us; but this sea. revive exhausted creation. The reservoirs of

son the southerly breeze has been very unwater were ererywhere dried up, except in steady and uncertain, and we have had hot particular places; and the poor cattle suffered land winds blowing night and day. A burn. tortures. The beasts of the forest have almost ing feverish skin has almost excited the all been shot, or have died of thirst. Forced system to a state of frenzy; and night has to certain watering places, the native sports. afforded us little refuge, for the sheets and men have watched and shot them, the night the pillows were heated as with a hot iron. through, at the muzzles of their guns; and O how blessed was the change, when on the others have laid down exhausted, and have fifth of this month the clouds began to pour died in the jungles. Man, and domestic ani.

forth their rich treasures of rain! We have mals have fared better : but among these passed the dreadful season, and now a paramany instances have occurred just around us, dise smiles around us ; and I can hardly do indicative of the awful effects of the season. aught for admiration and delight of the beauThree men were travelling from Padambur to tiful creation all around. Cuttack, distance ten miles. Part of their This wretched country, however, is a prey journey lay over the sands of the Maba.

to every kind of misery, except frost and puddy river transversely. The distance over

snow; of these it is clear. The stream of the sands is, as they had to go, three miles. pilgrims from Bengal to that accarsed shrine A small stream flows in the middle of the

at Pooree, brought with it that pestilence, vast bed of sand. The travellers reached the

the cholera morbus, and has disseminated it opposite bank, from Cuttack, about ten

throughout all the land. Like a grim giant it o'clock, a. m. They descended and found the

has gone forth every where, and is slaying sand growing very hot underfoot, and the its thousands. Its incursions from the line fierce rays of the sun darted fire from above ; of road, to the east, and to the west, appear but they reached the little stream in the cen- to have occurred all along the line. The tre of the desert. They cooled their blistering number of lives destroyed is incalculable. feet, and drank of the stream, and then set Who counts them? Who cares for them ? out for the opposite bank; but this was the The cholera this year is at the same time the trial. Two of the men were strong, and most eccentric and the most fatal I ever heard pushed on, but the third was somewbat feeble 'of. Many parts of the country are filled with

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