6.-Bungalow and Pooree.-Brother Bailey requested to correspond with Home Committee on the desirability of having a small bungalow at Pooree.

7.-Next Conference to be at Cuttack; time, the commencement of cold season; first Oriya sermon-preacher, brother Pooroosootom; second Oriya sermon―preacher, brother W. Miller; English sermon, brother H. Wood; a paper to be read by brother Anunta Das, on "The church's duty towards backsliders."

8.-Brother Haran Das was publicly set apart to the work of the ministry on Friday, Jan. 5th. The service was opened by brother Makunda Das with reading and prayer; brother Shem gave a brief introductory discourse; and the usual questions were asked by brother Bailey, and appropriately responded to by brother Haran; brother Buckley offered the ordination prayer, and brother Miller gave the charge from Romans i. 14.

9.-Native Brethren and the Conference (see VIII., 10, 1875).—(a.) — The ordained native preachers, together with the representatives from the various churches, attended all the sittings of Conference upon two of the days.

(b.)-Agreed, that unordained native brethren in charge of out-stations shall be entitled to attend the sittings of Conference, but not to vote.

(c.) The Business Committee to arrange for the public meetings of next Conference, and also what business shall come before native brethren to be the Cuttack Committee.

10.-The hearty thanks of Conference were given to brother Makuda Das for his paper.

11.-Jeypore. We were interested in receiving a report from brother J. H. Smith of this important field; but our information does not warrant us taking it up at present.

12.-A tract in the dialect spoken in the district of Jeypore, prepared by a new convert there, to be submitted to Cuttack Committee.

13.-Khoordah New Chapel.-Brother Shem Sahu addressed the Conference on the importance of their having a new chapel at Khoordah, and it was strongly felt by all. Agreed, that we suggest to our brother the desirableness of having estimates and plans prepared as soon as possible. We rejoice to learn that they have begun to collect for this purpose, and all engage to help them according to their ability.

14.-Northern Mission.—(a.)—Application for a native preacher. Brother Buckley to write giving all the needful information respecting Khombho, and offering him to them, if suitable arrangements can be made.

(b.)-Application for a delegate to their next Conference. We recommend our brother Buckley to go as our representative, if circumstances will permit.

15.-Departure of F. Bond, Esq.-Agreed, that we deeply regret the removal of our estimable friend, Mr. Bond, from Cuttack; that we record the grateful sense we entertain of the invaluable assistance he has rendered in various ways and for many years to the Mission; that we pray that the richest blessings of our heavenly Father may attend him, with Mrs. Bond and family, in their future course; and that we trust their removal from Cuttack may only be temporary.

The Public Services of the Conference were held on Lord's-day, December 31st. Thoma preached in the morning from Rev. i. 4; Brother Buckley in the afternoon from Gal. ii. 20; and Brother J. G. Pike in the evening from 1 Tim. vi. 15. All the services were very well attended. On Thursday, July 4th, the Annual Missionary Meeting was held. Brother Bailey presided. Addresses by Brethren Makunda Das and D. R. Rout. On Saturday night the Temperance Meeting was held. Dr. Parker, of the 12th M. N. I., presided. Addresses by Brethren H. Wood and Pooroosootom. The usual Communion Service was held on Sunday afternoon, January 7th, Brother Buckley giving the address in Oriya, and Brother Wood in English; Brethren Miller, Bailey, Pike, and Sebo Patra taking part. The Conference was brought to a close on Monday, July 8th. The chairman, Brother Buckley, concluding with prayer. JOHN BUCKLEY, Chairman. J. G. PIKE, Secretary.

Signed,

Death of Mr. I. C. Marshman.

A VERY useful, if not a very distinguished career, ended on Sunday. Mr. John Clark Marshman, the eldest son of Dr. Marshman, the well-known Baptist missionary of Serampore, was born in August, 1794, accompanied his father to Serampore in 1800, and from 1812, when he was only eighteen, was the moving spirit of the large religious undertakings managed by Dr. Marshman and his colleagues. For nearly twenty years he held the position of a secular bishop, choosing, directing, and providing for a great body of missionaries, catechists, and native Christians scattered in different parts of Bengal, collecting and earning for them great sums of money, while living like his colleagues on £200 a year, conducting an enormous correspondence, and, as appears from an entire literature of pamphlets still in existence, quarrelling energetically with everybody whose zeal or intelligence he deemed inferior to his own. He at last decided to surrender the mission, till then a sort of peculium, into the hands of the Baptist Mission, and thenceforward betook himself to secular work, though never abandoning his projects for the evangelization of Bengal. He started a paper mill-the only one in the country-founded the first newspaper in Bengalee, the Sumachar Durpun, established the first English weekly, the Friend of India, which in his hands speedily became a power, published a series of law books, one of which, the "Guide to the Civil Law," was for years the civil code of India, and was probably the most profitable law book ever published; and started a Christian colony on a large tract of land purchased in the Sunderbunds. All his undertakings, except the last, succeeded; and the profits and influence acquired through all were devoted in great measure to his favourite idea, that education must in India precede Christianity. He repeatedly risked the suppression of his paper by his determined_advocacy of religious freedom, enlightenment, and open careers for natives, and, indeed, it would have been suppressed but for the strenuous support of the King of Denmark, to whom Serampore then belonged. While still a struggling professional man he expended £30,000 on building and maintaining a college for the higher education of natives, a college still worked with the greatest success. He endured, for the sake of the same cause, a curious form of persecution. Knowing Bengalee as only skilled native pundits know it, and law like a trained lawyer, he was asked by Government to become official translator, and after a mental struggle, for he detested the thankless work of the office, he accepted the post. The salary was £1,000 a year; Mr. Marshman's impetuous ways had made him hosts of enemies; he was editor of his own journal, and for ten years he was abused every morning in language such as only colonial newspapers use, as "the hireling of the Government." Although a morbidly proud and sensitive man, he bore the abuse in absolute silence for ten years, never replying by a word of defence, and during the whole time paid away the whole salary every month in furthering the cause of education, and this in silence so complete that his own family will probably learn the fact for the first time from this slight sketch. In addition to his labours as journalist, millowner, translator, compiler of law-books, and general referee on all religious questions, Mr. Marshman was an earnest student of Indian history, wrote the first, and for years the only, History of Bengal, and prepared for his greater work, the History of India, which he finished and published after his return to England in 1852. His knowledge of India, Indian affairs, and especially Indian finance, had gradually become profound. He was not a philosophical historian in any sense of the word, but his knowledge of his subject appeared to be almost limitless. He had, as Sir John Kaye, just before his death, said in the Academy, read every book, and almost every manuscript in existence relating to India, and could relate the measures and feats of the British Viceroys as if he had been private secretary to all of them. In England, however, he was not recognized; he failed, after four sharp contests, in entering Parliament; Sir Charles Wood, unaware of his special official merit, his great capacity for managing the details of finance, refused him a seat in the Indian Council, and though his services to education were, at the instigation of Lord Lawrence, tardily recognized by the grant of the Star of India, he was compelled to occupy himself in the affairs of the East India Railway, where, as chairman of the committee of audit, he rendered most efficient, but, of course, unrecognized service, and in writing books like his History of India and the

Lives of Carey and Marshman. To the last he remained always an Indian, caring principally for the fortunes of the great empire he had helped to guide, and lending the aid of his apparently endless knowledge to any one who consulted him, and who knew enough to know when he was obtaining fresh material. He was finishing, when he died, a complete series of biographies of the Viceroys -a work which will now scarcely appear-and may have left a paper he was strongly urged to prepare, summing up the conclusions about India to which his long and varied experience had brought his mind. These conclusions were startlingly opposed to those of many of his contemporaries, but were held with immovable tenacity. Among them were these that India could never be converted by Europeans, and that the business of missionaries was to raise up "native apostles;" that India could be safely governed for £30,000,000 a year, and that all the rest was wasted on irritating over-government and timid military precautions; that natives ought to be admitted to every office, military and civil, except the Executive Council; that no public works, except railways, should be aided by the State; and that the next phase of the history of the Peninsula would be, probably, after the lapse of another century, an attempt at self-government as a vast Mussulman power, with a new, and probably extremely separate civilization. He rarely spoke of his fixed ideas, however, turning them over in his mind for himself, just as in earlier years he had turned over and concealed his knowledge till of all who knew Mr. Marshman probably not three were aware that he had given years to Chinese, that he had read intelligently all the great Sanscrit poems, and that he once knew Persian as thoroughly as most diplomatists know French.-From the Times.

Foreign Letters Received.

Received on account of the General Baptist Missionary Society from June 18th to

NOTE.-Money for any special object should be notified at the time it is sent, otherwise it will be credited to general contributions.

Subscriptions and Donations in aid of the General Baptist Missionary Society will be thankfully received by W. B. BEMBRIDGE, Esq., Ripley, Derby, Treasurer; and by the Rev. W. HILL, Secretary, Crompton Street, Derby, from whom also Missionary Boxes, Collecting Books and Cards may be obtained.

Noon and Night by the Sea.

It is a bright early autumn noon by the sea at Ramsgate. The air is loaded with bracing ozone; the earth is clad in a garment of beauty; the white cliffs glisten in the sun like burnished metal; the twinkling, many-dimpled face of the sun-lit sea looks as merry as a romping child, and the yellow sands are almost as populous as Cheapside at noonday, and in the full swing of the season. Even age walks with a fleeter foot; and as for the strength of youth it is as irrepressible as a geyser, as boisterous as a whirlwind, and as wild as a hurricane.

London seems to have emptied its youngest and freshest life on to this beach. Though similar sights of youthful abandon may be seen just now at a thousand points, yet I cannot imagine one where that abandon is more complete, and the enjoyment more full. Care is flung to the winds. Schools are abolished, and the schoolmaster is cast into the depths of the sea. The wooden spade is handled with a grip the pen never knew, and the bucket filled with an energy the teacher sighed for in vain. All thought of the construction of sentences is lost in the construction of castles of sand, rearing ramparts against the invading sea, and cutting deep channels for the outlet of the surging ocean. The sorrows

of life are all gone; dresses are as loose as the winds, and the hair has a freedom it rarely knows in town; socks and boots are left till wanted; parental restraint is strapped up with the school-books and laid on the nursery shelf; life is a grand festival by the sea, and old Father Neptune looks as merry as any of his many children.

But seashore play is serious work after all. Watch the eager eyes of those bare-legged young soldiers as they build up their fortresses against the briny wave. How earnest they are! What energy! What "pluck" they show ! "Eh mind there; they're coming; they're upon us: up with another bucket or we shall be stormed. Here they are! Retreat! Retreat!" Back the brave defenders leap out of the reach of the rising tide; and then the undaunted boy-general crys out, "Halt, Comrades! up with your earth-works! Make another stand! We must win!" And on they go piling up their ramparts with inextinguishable ardour, although their pretentious structures are smoothed down, again and again, by the waves like linen by the pressure of a hot iron; but on they go, nevertheless, always winning health and joy though losing fortress after fortress; always victorious though always defeated.

With what avidity those brown-faced laughing girls turn from their sport in erecting mock Egyptian pyramids, to construct an arm-chair of sand for "Aunty," who has just brought her crochet on to the beach with the hope of driving away her weakness by inhaling the breezes of the sea! There is pathos in that picture. Were I an artist I would put that halfbuilt structure, instantly surrendered, that leap of eagerness for service to a friend, that gleam of tenderness in those speaking eyes, on to the canvass GENERAL BAPTIST MAGAZINE, SEPTEMBER, 1877.-VOL. LXXIX.-N. S. No. 93.

at once. As I am not, I must be content to let the lovely scene hang in the chamber of imagery, and speak in its own way of the refreshing waters of human sympathy that flow strong and deep in the heart of a child.

Wearied with their excavating, or anxious for fellowship with the wondrous life of the sea, some of the children have left the sands and are scrambling about the rocks yonder; one party is in hotter pursuit of crabs and shrimps, and their numerous mates, than M.P.'s after August grouse; another cluster is in quest of the pretty "flowers" of the sea; and others are seen picking limpets off the rocks and greedily watching the "seaanemones" greedily devour them. Ah! this world will never lack loveliness whilst it has young life, a rolling sea, yellow sands, and a shining sun!

But, think. Could that sea, that merry laughing sea, with the sunshine playing over all its features, looking now like a sea of burning glass, and now like 10,000 prisms diffracting the light till the surface is a mass of rainbow tints, have any fitter margin than these happy, careless, laughing, paddling, castle-building children? The lovely sea is set in a frame of inimitable beauty. For the ocean is and always must be a child.

"Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow:
Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now."

It faints not, neither is weary. There is no exhausting of its power. That same indescribable laughter was heard by the children who wandered along this beach centuries ago. That fight with yonder cliffs has been maintained with irrepressible youthfulness for cycles upon cycles of years. The sea, though old, is ever young and is never so lovely and charm-filled as when on a bright autumnal noon it is fringed with a gathering of happy, active, and rejoicing children. God be thanked for the sea! God bless the children!

It is midnight. The moon is hidden behind a far-spreading drapery of clouds, and only proves her presence in the heavens by a solitary shaft of light shot into the dim distances and formed into a white glittering pavement, set afar off, upon the surface of the deep. Save for that, and a momentary flash from the light of a passing vessel, all is dark; and save the wild moan of the sea, all is as still as it is dark. The solemn hush of the town makes more awful and weird the deep sighs of the sea. The boisterous young life of noon now nestles in the renewing embrace of sleep, but the sea is sleepless as eternity, and restless as hell. Not a minute's pause, not a moment's interval for rest; on, on, on, for ever on-break, break, break, for ever break. The pursuing waves dash and shatter themselves against the resisting shore in countless battalions, and leave behind them countless battalions more to follow.

The only living thing is an incessant moan, a funeral dirge, a bitter and wild lament, as for shattered hopes, broken fortunes, and fateful disasters. The rippling laughter has ceased, the crested spray is unseen, the silver-white foam has gone, the rainbow gleams are no more. sense only is attacked by the great and dismal sea, but that is assailed

One