THE MISSIONARY'S GRAVE. [VIGNETTE. ] THE summer winds are murm'ring low, That flowery vale along, Where streams 'neath evening's purple glow Awake their soothing song. And, bending o'er that silent tomb, That suns may not invade To break the deep and hallowed gloom, The graven words that rude stone bears, In simplest language, tell Of one, who, strong in manhood's years, For he had come from distant shores, Where other waters roll, Where truth enrob'd in lustre pours Her sunlight o'er the soul. Oh! he had come with spirit mild, To wake the men by sin beguiled, But swiftly life's short race was run- And, ere his warfare seemed begun, He came when spring's first fragrant gale He sunk in death when every vale Was bright with streams and flowers. He loved the scenes where all was bright, But his spirit sighed to wing its flight There, while the rose-crowned summer smiled, They laid him down to rest, And earth, in that enchanting wild, Received him to her breast. No kindred graves are seen around, No brother slumbers nigh, His household mossy tombs are found Beneath another sky. What, tho' no pennons o'er him sweep, And oft at morn and dewy eve, To deck that spot with flowers, Shall infant hands a garland weave Within their sunniest bowers. The southern breeze shall sweep his tomb, And hoary-headed sires shall bring And as they linger round the tomb, How with the first spring's roseate bloom, The Christian warrior fell. And they shall love to trace the name Of him who sleeps beneath, Loxton*. -to thee a brother gives The tribute of a tear, Thy name within our memory lives, And ever shall live there. * This amiable, devoted, and eminently gifted man was educated for the Christian ministry at Highbury College. While an inmate of that institution, his virtues, abilities, and industry secured for him the ardent affection of his fellow-students, and the respect of his estimable tutors, who loved him as their child. His humility and faithfulness, combined with his rare endowments, rendered him a most instructive, impressive, and useful preacher; and the largest christian assemblies in the metropolis, or provincial towns, felt it a pri We follow and where'er He calls, When earth, and each sepulchral sea Where death is known no more. vilege to attend his ministrations: but his heart was set on preaching Christ to the heathen. His constitution not being suited to the climate of India, he selected the South Sea Islands as the sphere of his future labours. Elate with hopes of spending many years in the service of his Lord, he left his native shores in Sept. 1833, and proceeded to Raiatea, his appointed station; whither he was followed by the warm affections of many beloved friends—and the sanguine expectations of others, that he would become the Whitfield of the South Seas, and be the honoured instrument of wide and lasting benefit to their infant churches. Yet after a residence of a few months, He, whose ways are not as our ways, saw fit to take him to himself. He died on the 28th of July, in the twenty-fifth year of his age, and was buried in a secluded valley at the back of the Missionary Settlement. His widow, who after his decease became a mother, was obliged, from impaired health and spirits, to leave the island, and reached her native shores, with her infant daughter, born the 16th of September, 1834, within one-and-twenty months after her departure, in 1833. The sketch of the spot in which the remains of the lamented Loxton repose, was taken by Mr. Nightingale, a gentleman who visited the islands for purposes of science, and appears to have cherished a strong attachment for this lamented Missionary. T. AVELING. Highbury College. RECOLLECTIONS OF BISHOP HEBER. BY THE REV. J. W. DORAN, LL.D. It was after witnessing the deplorable condition of men ignorant of divine truth, both in the West Indies and North America, that I was, under God, first led to engage in the cause of Christian missions. Connecting myself, therefore, with the Church Missionary Society, and leaving the appointment of my station to its disposal, I was sent out in May, 1824, to take charge of the Syrian college of Cotyam, on the western coast of India. At the close of the above month we cleared the British Channel, and, after a voyage of unusual length, were wrecked off the Cape of Good Hope. By the interposition of a gracious Providence, no lives were lost after firing distress-guns for more than three hours, boats reached us from the shore, and in the dead of the night brought us into Cape Town. Hoping to reach Madras, as I did when leaving England, by the close of September, my disappointment may easily be conceived when I found myself, in this very month, only thus far on my voyage, and with our vessel a total wreck. Remaining in Cape Town for three weeks, I was cheered by the announcement that an English vessel was entering the harbour; but she was bound for Calcutta, and not for Madras, my proper destination. I did not, however, hesitate to engage a passage in her, and it was this circumstance which brought me into contact with the lamented prelate, whose mortal remains, |