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struction, and who all read the Bible, 314 children attend the school: 154 read the Bible, some of whom can repeat the substance of the Scripture History quite Auently.

We grieve to hear of the illness of some, and departure of others, of our valuable brethren, who are called to rest from their labours; and pray, that the Lord may prepare successors, equally devoted and faithful in his service. It is in. deed a favour to be employed in his work; and I thank him daily for favouring me to labour in this part of his vineyard. Though the Hottentots, like all other men, have their faults, yet I cannot but love them with my whole heart, and I am wil ling to do any thing for their good. And it is to me, and to us all, a great comfort, that we enjoy their love and confidence; and perceive, that they are truly thank ful to the Lord for the privileges which they enjoy as a Christian community. They know no greater punishment than to be deprived of any of those privileges.

From the renewal of the Mission in 1792, 1054 adults, and 843 children have been baptized; 112 persons baptized as children, received into the congregation; and 691 admitted as communicants. At present we count about 500 communicants; and the number of inhabitants, which has increased this year exceeds 1400. If we had but the means of pur chasing another place in the neighbour hood of Gnadenthal, as an appendage to this, the number of inhabitants might be diminished, and the Hottentots find the means of supporting themselves more easily.

Such a scene as the valley of Gnaden thal presents at this time of the year, when almost every tree is in blossom, is well worth a flight from England to barren Af. rica. I cannot resist the temptation, daily to mount one of the lower hills overlooking this charming orchard, where I stand amazed at the external change wrought in this wilderness by the introduction of Christianity.

To give encouragement to our Hottentots, I lately took a walk to the plough land; and what a charming sight! Seventeen ploughs, belonging to the Hottentots, were in motion. Surely this one circumstance alone is undeniable evidence, that this once so idle nation is im-proving in industry. We are, indeed, in great straits at present for arable land. Every little patch left, of that description, was distributed among our people about a fortnight ago; and several of those who applied, could not be gratified. One of our Hottentots (and this is another encouraging phenomenon) has rented a considerable piece of ground of a neighbouring farmer, on which fifteen muids of wheat may be sown.

Being on this topic, I cannot help re. lating an anecdote connected with it. A few days ago, when the river Zonderend was at its highest level, a farmer, who tot standing close by it. He began, as had just passed the bridge, meta Hottenusual, to rail at the poor man, and at the laziness of the Hottentots of Gnadenthal. The Hottentot, pointing to the bridge, answered to this effect_" Baas! (master) I do not choose to answer; let that bridge speak for us. If Baas had built it for me, and I could zoo maar (only so, without trouble) walk and ride over it, I should not venture to complain of Baas's. lazi ness; for I should think that it required more diligence and labour to build a bridge, than to ride over it." The Far mer was mute, and rode off.

We have been favoured, throughout the whole of July, with very seasonable weather; which has enabled our Hottentots to go on with their agricultural labours, without any intermission. They have also exerted themselves to a degree never known before, in cultivating every spot that was at all likely to repay their labour, There is a want of manure, and therefore the land must be left to rest after two or three years culture. The Hottentots have, however, endeavoured to remedy the evil, by putting straw into the beastkraal, and otherwise taking better care to collect manure, to which, in former times, they could never be brought to attend. In this, as in many other instances, they are in a course of gradual improve. ment.

You will have heard, that the five cases of new and old clothing, which you sent to Enon, have arrived safe; and, on the 26th of August, we had the satisfaction to receive the case which you sent to us. As our people, owing to the scarcity of the two preceding years, were in great about the distribution. This pleasing duty want of clothing, we immediately set distributing many articles, gratis, to the was committed to me and my wife. After poor, the remaining were sold, though for a mere triffe, to such as could afford to pay something, and yet were in want; and the money thus collected put into the poor's box, for the purpose of giving bread to the hungry. Many were the ferheard on this occasion; and numberless vent expressions of gratitude which we the salutations that we were commissioned to transmit to their benefactors. Some observed, that they could not comprehend what sort of people our friends in Eng. land must be, that they took such share in the weal and woe of a nation so far off, and of so little significance as the Hottentots were: they must be quite another sort of Europeans, and not like those that came hither. "I don't mean Mynheer," exclaimed Eva Wittboy, thinking she had

offended me, and grasping my hand, "for de Heers en Juffrows" (the brethren and sisters) "have done enough for us, and more than even those kind friends. They have forsaken friends and relations, and taught us where to find food and clothing for our souls."

We are very thankful that, by this liberal donation, we have been enabled to pay off the arrears of the poor's box, and have something in hand, so as not to be under the necessity of running into debt for some months to come.

Father Marsveld is still, as you hope, alive among us; and your kind inquiries about him, affected the venerable old man so much, that he shed tears. But, about the middle of August, our hopes to see him much longer with us, were very faint. On the 13th, he was so weak, that he was not able to partake of the Lord's Supper with the congregation; and I had the favour to administer it to him in his own room, in presence of our whole fami ly. It was an hour of unspeakable bless. ing and edification to us all: the peace of God filled the hearts of the dear patient and of all present. On the 15th, he grew so much worse, that we hourly expected his dissolution. He took a most affection ate leave of all and each of us; and, at his own request, a prayer was offered up, and the blessing of the Lord pronounced upon him. He humbly rejoiced in the prospect of his departure into the realms of bliss. Never shall I forget what I felt on this occasion, when our whole family, as one heart and soul, were engaged in prayer

around his bed.

As soon as the news of his dangerous illness spread through the village, the Hottentots crowded on our werft, in anxious expectation of the issue. It was a most affecting scene, There," said one, "under that large oak, then a young plant, he spoke to me the first words that pierced my hard heart; and, from that moment, I always revered him as my spiritual father. Alas, I shall lose more than a fa ther!" Here a flood of tears stopped his speech. "That is now the last," said another, "of our first three Teachers, who is on the point of leaving us. Oh, what do I owe to our Saviour, that their places have been supplied by others, who preach the same words unto us. I was always thankful when new teachers came: but never did I so deeply feel, as at this mo ment of sorrow, how great reason we have to be thankful."" He told us the truth," said a third, "plainly, and some times sharply; but though we were perhaps displeased for a moment, we felt that he loved us poor Hottentots with his whole soul." These, and similar expressions, were heard from many of them, while they were standing in the grove or in the kraal, during these days of anxious

suspense.

It pleased the Lord, however, to restore our venerable father to us; and he is now, as usual, walking about in the grove, with his grey head uncovered. During his illness, I had much conversation with him, which will never be forgotten by me, A few hours before we took what we sup. posed to be our final leave of him, he desired me to give his kind love to you, and to the members of your Society, and of the Elders' Conference of the Unity, and to tell them, that whenever he thought of the great favour conferred on him to be a servant of the Lord, and of the blessing with which his feeble ministry had been crowned, he was quite bowed down with shame and amazement. "Never," added he, while the tears rolled down his cheeks,

could the Lord have chosen a more unprofitable servant. But I believe that he has forgiven all my faults and short-com. ings in his service." Alluding to the peace which now so happily prevails among us, he said "It was not always so; but now we live, as it were, in heaven." This illness weakened him so much, that he found himself obliged to give up those things that had hitherto been committed to him.

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NOTHING, we are persuaded, would tend more directly to the amelioration of the general character of society, than a restoration of the almost forgotten practice of family devotion. Within our own recol lection, families, who preserved even the outward marks of attention to their religious duties, retained the decent and edi fying custom of assembling in the morn ing and evening of every day for the purposes of common prayer; and, on the evening of the Lord's Day, after the public services of the Church were over, and a fitting time had been allowed for needful refreshment and social intercourse, the heads of the family summoned their chil dren, their inmates, and domestics, to listen to some plain and practical discourse, selected from the almost inex haustible stores of theological literature which the divines of our Church have accumulated, and to conclude the sacred day by prayer. Did we attempt to set forth the value of such a practice, we should be led into too wide a field. All who have a proper sense of religion on their minds will perceive its tendency, by this interesting communion in its exer cises, to promote the peace and union of families, the quiet and orderly discharge of domestic duties, and the general wel. fare of society. The decay of this prac tice may perhaps be ascribed to many co

operating causes; but the most fatal blow was aimed at it, when the leaders of the Methodists, in their hasty zeal to restore the influence of religion, adopted the measure of holding their meetings on the evening of Sunday. The pretext appeared plausible enough to those who took only a partial view of the subject. For it was notorious then, and we fear it is not less so now, that many of the lower orders were in the habits of passing the Sunday evening in listless idleness, if not in debauchery and profaneness. But these reformers did not consider that their measure would operate with more force on those who were already in the habit of devoting this portion of their time to devotional purposes, than on persons whom long habit had seared to its neglect or abuse. They did not, perhaps, calculate that, while a few only might be temporarily attracted from the alehouse or the streets, to listen to the exhortations of their preachers; very many of a different character would be led to believe, that an additional public service was at least as edifying as their former family devotions; and would prefer the excitements which their meetings offered, to the calmer and more unpretending exercises which had occupied them at home. Many a domestic circle of worshippers was thus broken up; many a tie of religious attachment between master and servant, parent and child, severed for ever; and without tak ing into account the different nature of the doctrine inculcated, or the fatal tendency to schism which was engendered, an injury was thus inflicted on the domestic character of the people, for which all the benefits resulting from the zeal and labours of Wesley and Whitfield could not have compensated, even had they been as great and as permanent as their most enthusiastic admirers have conceived them to be.

We are aware that it will be said, that the same measure has been since adopted by the Church in many instances; and that its effects have proved the wisdom of the determination. The measure, it is true, has been adopted, but upon a very differ ent principle. No alteration, we will venture to say, has taken place in the minds of reflecting members of the Church on the subject: they would still recommend, did circumstances allow it, an undeviating adherence to ancient prac tices; and could they believe that the Sunday evening would now be passed as it formerly was, and as the Church undoubtedly intends that it should be, they are convinced that no advantage could be derived from an alteration of the hours of public worship. But when they saw the doors of the meeting-house always invitingly opened in the evening; when they found that the inclinations of the people

had been turned towards a public service at that hour; when they knew that heads of households had, in many instances, given up the wholesome custom of the family sermon; and that in others their domestics had been seduced from attendance upon the family reading, by the superior attractions of the public harangue, they were then compelled to resort to the al teration as a measure of defence. They knew that many, who were thus allured unwarily into schismatical practices, would still prefer the Church, was it open at the same hour to receive them; and they felt it a duty, by so simple an expe dient, to rescue them from the danger.

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The success which has generally attended the adoption of an evening service, may be allowed to plead in its justification: but still it will be allowed that, on many accounts, it is highly desirable, wherever it is practicable, to revive and encourage the former practice; to re-unite families by these effectual words, which they will feel when they once more ac knowledge themselves to be religious so cieties; and to furnish them with sermons, which may be read with advantage by plain men to the circle of young or un educated persons, by whom, in such assemblages of households, they will, for the most part, be surrounded.

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Ir was on a sweet evening in the summer of 1818, that I was summoned by the dear and valued friend, who had been the favoured instrument of God to her for good, to assist him in the painfully-pleasing task of comforting Louisa's afflicted parents. Our path lay along the banks of a lake* which has been celebrated from age to age, the picturesque beauty of which was at that moment heightened by the crimson rays of the sun just sinking behind the majestic range of the Jura, and given back to the eye in the tranquil mirror of the blue waters below; while it was rendered still more deeply impressive by the mournful nature, though it was not without its peculiar alleviations, of the duty we were going to fulfil.

As we approached the spot, which had only that morning been bereft of one of its greatest ornaments, our minds would necessarily be occupied with a variety of emotions. The peace ful scene around us-the site of the

The Lake of Geneva.

house, which commanded an extensive view of the lake and the surrounding mountains, and had just received the farewell salutation of the setting sunthe vines which covered the hill de scending by a rapid declivity to the edge of the water, that murmured faintly on the pebbly strand, appearing already to mourn the absence of his smiles; reminding us of that other vineyard in which we had been called to labour, where all "is joy and peace while our Master lifts up the light of his countenance," but where gloom and sorrow succeed "the hidings of his face"above all, the reflection that another spirit, delivered for ever from sin and its attendant trials, had winged its way to" the city of habitation," and joined that "innumerable company," which ceases not day or night to sing the new song, "Thou art worthy; for thou wast slain, and hast redeemed us to God by thy blood, out of every kindred, and tongue, and people, and nation, and hast made us unto our God kings and priests"-was more than sufficient to move the most obdurate heart.

Praying, as we opened it, that it might be granted to us "to speak a word in season," my friend and I passed in silence the gate that conducted to "This sweet abode of piety and peace." Scarcely had we entered it, when we perceived that the Lord was there. No loud lamentations! No cries of agony that would not be comforted!" No shrieks of despair!" True it is, indeed, that when the inmates saw us, in the beautiful language of inspiration, "they lifted up their voices and wept;" yet theirs was a sorrow which "humbled itself under the mighty hand" that afflicted, and bowed without a murmur to the divine will-a sorrow that "had hope in death"-a sorrow, which would not surely be disowned of him who, "in the days of his flesh," thought it not unbecoming his equality with God, to shed tears beside the grave of a departed friend.

When the first burst of grief, occa sioned by our arrival, had in some degree subsided, we were shown into the chamber, whence the happy spirit of Louisa had taken its fight. Here it

was, indeed, consolatory to witness the sufficiency of the grace of God. O, Sir, may we not cry with the exultation of assured confidence, when we behold such blessed effects,

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Hail glorious Gospel! heavenly light whereby We live with comfort, and with comfort die; And view, beyond this gloomy scene, the tomb, A life of endless happiness to come.' "

The father and mother of the departed saint now approached the bed together, on which was stretched the pale, lovely corpse, in whose countenance there was still a something that seemed to say to us, 66 Weep not for me!" and drawing back the curtains, gazed on it for a few moments. The former then, as if yet unwilling to believe that all hope had vanished, put his hand upon her cheek; and as he did so, the tear rolled slowly from his eye, gently exclaiming, "My dear daughter!" The mother added, without emotion, "How changed since morning!"

During this touching scene, my friend and I stood silent spectators, admiring the wonders of that grace which could thus strengthen the tenderest of parents to survey, with the calmest resignation, the remains of a beloved child. Bereaved, it is true, they had been "of the delight of their eyes" by a "stroke," the severity of which is known, perhaps, to none but those who have been called to endure its weight: yet were they conscious that she had only preceded them in bidding adieu to "the changes and chances of this mor tal scene;" that she had only a little earlier than themselves exchanged time for eternity, earth for heaven. Therefore it was that, while they mourned over an only daughter thus prematurely snatched from their embraces, they were enabled to "rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory."

We then bowed down together in prayer; and, while my friend offered up "supplication with thanksgiving" on behalf of a family "sorrowful yet rejoicing," we found how true it is, that "the throne of grace" is a refuge "that the world knows not of"-a refuge which all its smiles cannot purchase, and of which all its frowns cannot deprive.

A few days after, I had the melancholy pleasure of following what was mortal of Louisa to the grave. The place where she was laid was a sweet, though lonely spot, situated on an emi nence, which seemed as if formed to guard the remains of " those who had fallen asleep in Jesus," till the voice of the Archangel break the bands of death.

"Twas not a place for grief to nourish care, It breathed of hope and moved the heart to

's prayer."

While we committed the body of our sister to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, and dust to dust, we were comforted with the assurance that corruption would one day put on in corruption, and Louisa rise to the life immortal. And while we beheld her father kneel upon the sod that covered her, and heard him praise that gracious Lord who had sustained him under his trials, we felt that "the Gospel is" of a truth" the power of God."

TO THE MEMORY OF LOUISA.

As for man, his days are as grass: as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth; for the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more.-Ps. ciii. 15, 16.

Thus have I seen where two lone rills unite

Their clear, cold waters from the Jura's height,

Graceful and fair, the valley's vernal pride,
A lily, smiling on the faithless tide.

Twas very lovely, fragile, and consign'd
Its tender sweetness to the waves and wind:
It moved my pity; for the lightest storm,
Methought, were heavy on so frail á form.
At eve I wander'd, musing, by the spot,
And sought its beauty-but, alas! 'twas not.

So bloom'd and past Louise. Yet, while death Chill'd the sweet current of her vital breath; Affection, weeping o'er its tarnish'd gem, A flower, though faded, lovely on the stem, Wiped the warm tear that would bewail her rest,

Or stay her longer in a world unblest.

Hush! from the distance, happy in its gloom, Didst thou not hear her call from out the tomb? "Weep not for me! Though death's dark vale I trod,

'Twas but the spirit as it went to God:
Weep not for me! here sin and sorrow cease;
For here, dear Saviour, is thy reign of peace!
Weep not for me! life's toils and trials past,
My Lord receives me to his joy at last."

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mind musing on the prospect before us

my heart warm with the fervent prayer that the good God would open some window of hope from the heavenly mercy-seat, to dispel the gloomy anxiety which pervaded our ecclesiastical horizon. When your little note told me what of all earthly things I wanted to know, viz. that our brethren in the east had not forgotten us, and that the efforts we are now making (as I inferred) will not prove abortive'We shall live, and not die,' said I to myself. God will realize his promise even to us in that he will never leave

nor forsake those who trust in himthat he will not break the bruised reed, nor quench the smoaking flax. He will send forth labourers even to us in the wilderness. Our small flocks, how scattered, shall yet hear the voice of faithful shepherds, and the wild beasts shall not devour them. But why am I thus writing to you? Our Journals will explain the whole truth, and that truth will be a sufficient reason. We must have missionaries sent, and sup ported among us, or the Church in the west will not, can not exist. Suffer the ministers who are now here to die, sioned by over exertion in this world of perhaps of a premature death, occawilderness, and there will be none to take their place. This is moral truth; though it be agony to write it."

"Barclay's Security."

Extract of the account of the Parish and Union of Kilrush, in the Dio cess of Killaloe. By the Rev. John Graham, M. A. Drawn up for the second volume of Shaw Mason's Statistical Survey of Ireland, p. 461.

TRADITIONS.

THE vague and contradictory traditions of this tract of country would fill a volume of greater size than value.— Few of them, indeed, merit to be recorded. Those connected with ancient Ecclesiastical history have been already noticed, and the following may serve as samples of those of more modern date.

The Rev. John Vandeleur (an ancestor of the present Right Honourable

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