for others and in her duty toward God. She does what she can, feeling constantly how small is the mite she gives; and the worth which it is afterward discovered to bear would, probably, astonish the giver far more than it does the world.

Harriet Newell died at the early age of twenty, leaving a journal and a few letters, the record of her religious feelings and the events of her short missionary life. These fragments have been published, making a little book. Such is her contribution to literature, yet this small work has been and is now of more importance to the intellectual progress of the world than all the works of Madam de Stael. The writings of Harriet Newell, translated into several tongues, and published in many editions, have reached the heart of society, and assisted to build up the throne of woman's power, even the moral influence of her sex over men, and their intellect can never reach its highest elevation but through the medium of moral cultivation.

MR. NEWELL'S LETTER ANNOUNCING THE DEATH OF HIS WIFE TO HER MOTHER.

As a supplement to this beautiful sketch we quote the affecting letter of Mr. Newell, written after the death of his wife to her mother: "When I sit down to address you, my dear mother, from this distant land, to me a land of strangers and a place of exile, a thousand tender thoughts arise in my mind, and naturally suggest such inquiries as these, How is it now with that dear woman to whom I am indebted for my greatest earthly blessing, the mother of my dear Harriet, and mine, too? for I must claim the privilege of considering you as my own dear mother. Does the candle of the Lord shine on her tabernacle, and is the voice of joy and praise yet heard in her dwelling? Or, what is not improbable in this world of disappointment, has some new affliction, the death, perhaps, of a dear child or of some other beloved friend, caused her heart again to bleed and her tears to flow? Ah, my mother, though we may live many years and see good in them all, yet let us remember the days of darkness, for they, too, will be many. It is decreed by Infinite Wisdom alone that through much tribulation we must enter into the kingdom of heaven. You, my dear mother, have had your share of adversity, and I, too, have had mine; but we will not complain. Sanctified afflictions are the choicest favors of Heaven. They cure us of our vain and foolish expectations from the world, and teach our thoughts and affections to ascend and fix on joys that never die. I never longed

so much to see you as I have these several days past. What would I now give to sit one hour by that dear fireside, where I have tasted the most unalloyed pleasure that earth affords, and recount to you and the dear children the perils, the toils, and the sufferings through which I have passed since I left my native land! In this happy circle I should for a moment forget.

"Yes, my dear friends, I would tell you how God has disappointed our favorite schemes and blasted our hopes of preaching Christ in India, and has sent us all away from that extensive field of usefulness, with an intimation that he has nothing for us to do there, while he has suffered others to enter in and reap the harvest. I would tell you how he has visited us all with sickness, and how he has afflicted me, in particular, by taking away the dear little babe which he gave us the child of our prayers, of our hopes, of our tears. I would tell youbut, O! shall I tell it, or forbear. .

"Have courage, my mother, God will support you under this trial, though it may for a time cause your very heart to bleed. Come, then, let us mingle our griefs and weep together, for she was dear to us both, and she, too, is gone. Yes, Harriet, your lovely daughter, is gone, and you will see her face no more. Harriet, my own dear Harriet, the wife of my youth and the desire of my eyes, has bid me a last farewell and left me to mourn and weep. Yes, she is gone. I wiped the cold sweat of death from her pale, emaciated face, while we traveled together down to the entrance of the dark valley. There she took her upward flight, and I saw her ascend to the mansions of the blessed. O, Harriet, Harriet, for thou wast very dear to me! Thy last sigh tore my heart asunder, and dissolved the charm that bound

me to earth.

"Let us turn from the tale of woe to a brighter scene, one that will gladden your heart, as I am sure it does mine. During this long series of sufferings, the bare recital of which must affect every feeling heart, she meekly yielded to the will of her Heavenly Father without one murmuring word. My wicked heart,' she writes, 'is inclined to think it hard that I should suffer such fatigue and hardship. I sinfully envy those whose lot it is to live in tranquillity on land. Happy people! ye know not the toils and trials of voyagers across the rough and stormy deep. O for a little Indian hut on land! But hush, my warring passions, it is for Jesus, who sacrificed the joys of his Father's kingdom, and expired on a cross to redeem a fallen world, that thus I wander from place to

place, and feel no where at home. How reviving the thought! How great the consolation it yields to my sinking heart! I will cherish it, and yet be happy.'

'In view of those sufferings which she afterward experienced, she writes thus: 'I hope to reach the place of our destination in good health. But I feel no anxiety about that; I know that God orders every thing in the best possible manner. If he so orders events that I shall suffer pain and sickness on the stormy ocean, without a female friend, exposed to the greatest inconveniences, shall I repine and think he deals hardly with me? O, no. Let the severest trials and disappointments fall to my lot, guilty and weak as I am, yet I think I can rejoice in the Lord, and joy in the God of my salvation.'

"In the first part of her sickness she had some doubts, which occasionally interrupted her spiritual comfort; but they were soon removed, and her mind was filled with that peace of God which passeth all understanding. When I asked her a few days before she died if she had any remaining doubts respecting her spiritual state, she answered, with an emphasis, that she had none. During the whole of her sickness she talked in the most familiar manner, and with great delight, of death and the glory that was to follow. When Dr. Burke one day told her those were gloomy thoughts, she had better get rid of them, she replied, on the contrary, they were to her cheering and joyful beyond what she could express. When I attempted to persuade her that she would recover, which I fondly hoped, it seemed to strike her like a disappointment. She would say, 'You ought rather to pray that I may depart, that I may be perfectly free from sin, and be where God is.'

"A few days before she died, after one of those distressing turns of coughing and raising phlegm which so rapidly wasted her strength, she called me to come and sit on the bed beside her and receive her dying messages to her friends. She observed that her strength was quite exhausted, and she could say only a few words, but feared she should not have another opportunity. 'Tell my dear mother,' said she, 'how much Harriet loved her. Tell her to look to God and keep near to him, and he will support and comfort her in all her trials. I shall meet her in heaven, for surely she is one of the dear children of God.' She then turned to her brothers and sisters. Tell them,' said she, 'from the lips of their dying sister that there 18 nothing but religion worth living for. O, exhort them to attend immediately to the care of their precious, immortal souls. Tell them not

to delay repentance. The eldest of them will be anxious to know how I now feel with respect to missions. Tell them, and also my dear mother, that I have never regretted leaving my native land for the cause of Christ. Let my dear brothers and sisters know that I love them to the last. I hope to meet them in heaven; but O, if I should not!' Here the tears burst from her eyes, and her sobs of grief at the thought of an eternal separation expressed the feelings that were too big for utterance. After she had recovered a little from the shock which these strong emotions had given to her whole frame, she attempted to speak of several other friends, but was obliged to sum up all she had to say in 'Love and an affectionate farewell to them all.' Within a day or two of her death, such conversation as the following passed between us:

"Should you not be willing to recover and live awhile longer here?"

"On some accounts it would be desirable. I wish to do something for God before I die. But the experience I have had of the deceitfulness of my heart leads me to expect that, if I should recover, my future life would be much the same as my past has been, and I long to be perfectly free from sin. God has called me away before we have entered on the work of the mission; but the case of David affords me comfort; I have had it in my heart to do what I can for the heathen, and I hope God will accept me.'

"But what shall I do when you are gone? How can I bear the separation?'

"Jesus will be your best friend, and our separation will be short. We shall soon, very soon, meet in a better world; if I thought we should not it would be painful indeed to part with you.'

"How does your past life appear to you now?'

"Bad enough, but that only makes the grace of Christ appear the more glorious.

"Jesus, thy blood and righteousness
My beauty are, my heavenly dress;
'Midst flaming worlds, in these arrayed,
With joy shall I lift up my head."'

"When I told her that she could not live through the next day, she replied, 'O, joyful news! I long to depart.' Some time after I asked her, 'How does death appear to you now? She replied, 'Glorious; truly welcome.' During Sabbath night she seemed to be a little wandering, but the next morning she had her recollection perfectly. As I stood by her I asked her if she knew me. At first she made

'Thus I wandered, and mused, and searched in vain, till at last I approached an artisan occupied in putting letters upon a monument, and upon inquiring for the grave was answered in some language utterly incomprehensible to me, and at the same time was pointed to the heel of an Irishman on the outside of the inclosure, who at once conducted me to the sought-for spot. The artisan was facing it when I addressed him. I had almost touched it, and stood upon it when I inquired of him; but the grave was so crowded by others, the slab containing the inscription lying upon the ground, and a low stone only being erected at the head, that it could not be recognized without stooping down to read the name and epitaph. The inscription is perfectly legible, and the grave kept with care and neatness, several of the Scotch and English residents being familiar with her history and honoring her memory. Indeed, most of the Protestant population of the city have heard her name, if nothing more, and have heard it only to do it honor. The grave of a devoted English Wesleyan missionary almost touches that of Mrs. Newell, and hard by is that of the Rev. Mr. Thompson, the friend and associate of Henry Martyn, whose tender spirit, touched with a tinge of melancholy, was beyond any other in harmony with hers. A few geraniums were growing near the grave, some of which I plucked, and three trees resembling the cypress and fir, out of four once planted at the adjacent grave, had in time shot up forty or fifty feet, whose branches spread out over Harriet Newell's grave, sighed out a soft and long requiem."

THE DREAMER.

BY HARRIET M. BEAN.

SHE was a genius, so they said,

Unfitted for the common themes
That wake to thought the vulgar mind-
A child of visions, fancies, dreams.
She studied little, reading much;
Her tresses tangled and unbound,
And negligent in air and dress,

She gained the name of "The Profound."
And thus she grew to womanhood,
Reading romances so high-wrought
That she disdained life's quiet ways

And all stern discipline of thought.
She looked in vain for gallant hearts,

Like those possessed by knights in armor, Or that devotion which inspired

The breast of ancient, wandering palmer. And when by carelessness she found Herself exposed to sudden danger, Where was the ill-averting hand Of some "4 unlooked-for, manly stranger?" Where was the watchful human eye To study every fond caprice Of hers? and where the tireless love

To give her from all care release?
Alas! she sought for these in vain;
Watching for bliss to culminate,
She lost the simple, quiet joys

That are the humble heart's estate.
And days, and months, and years went by,
And happiness was unattained;

Less thought for self, more thought for all,
Would, mayhap, that fond boon have gained.

FAITH AND HOPE.

A SWALLOW in the Spring

Came to our granary, and 'neath the eaves Essay'd to make her nest, and there did bring

Wet earth, and straw, and leaves.

Day after day she toil'd

With patient art; but, ere her work was crown'd, Some sad mishap the tiny fabric spoil'd,

And dash'd it to the ground.

She found the ruin wrought;

Yet not cast down, forth from her place she flew, And with her mate fresh earth and grasses brought, And built her nest anew.

But scarcely had she placed

The last soft feather on its ample floor,
When wicked hands, or chance, again laid waste,
And wrought the ruin o'er.

But still her heart she kept,

And toil'd again; and, last night hearing calls, I look'd, and lo! three little swallows slept Within the earth-made walls.

What trust is here, O man!

Hath hope been smitten in its early dawn? Have clouds o'ercast thy purpose, trust, or plan? Have faith and struggle on. SOUTHEY.

criptore

A PHOTOGRAM OF SPIRITUAL INDOLENCE.-"I went by the field of the slothful, and by the vineyard of the man void of understanding; and, lo, it was all grown over with thorns, and nettles had covered the face thereof, and the stone wall thereof was broken down. Then I saw and considered it well: I looked upon it, and received instruction. Yet a little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to sleep; so shall thy poverty come as one that traveleth; and thy want as an armed man. Prov. xxiv, 30-34.

We have here indolence portrayed by the hand of a master; and as it stands before us on the canvas, certain facts strike us concerning it; namely, that it is foolish, procrastinating, and ruinous.

"

I. IT IS FOOLISH. Solomon characterizes this indolent man as one "void of understanding." Wherein do you see this man's folly? In the flagrant neglect of his own interests. Unlike the condition of millions who have not one yard of green sod which they can call their own, this man held a little estate in his possession. He had a field" and a 'vineyard," and upon the cultivation of this depended his bread. But he neglected it, and it was grown over with thorns. Morally, this vineyard may signify our spiritual na tures, with all their faculties and potential powers, and which it is both our manifest interest and bounden duty to cultivate. There is one noticeable point of distinction between material and spiritual cultivation. You may cultivate your field by proxy, but you can only cultivate your soul yourself.

II. IT IS PROCRASTINATING. Solomon observed that indolence in this man led to constant procrastination. "I saw and considered it well; I looked upon it, and received instruction. Yet a little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to sleep." To the indolent man duty is always for the morrow. The idea of working is not given up, but postponed from day to day; and the longer it is postponed the more indisposed the mind grows for its performance. It is always asking for a longer delay, always seeking little slumber," or always looking to a more convenient season."

III. IT IS RUINOUS. 1. Consider the wretched condition to which his estate was reduced. "Lo, it was all grown over with thorns," etc. It might have waved in golden grain-it might have been a scene of loveliness and plenty; but it is an unsightly wilderness, unprotected, open to the foot of every intruder. It is noteworthy that ruin comes not by cultivation but by neglect. Your garden will soon become a wilderness if you neglect it. Heaven's kind arrangement this to stimulate labor. It is so with the soul. You need not

strive to ruin yourselves-do nothing and you will be damned.

2. Consider the utter destitution to which it must inevitably conduct. By this indolence" thy poverty shall come as one that traveleth," etc, Two things are suggested by these words: (1.) That the ruin is gradual in its approach. Thy poverty shall come." It does not burst on you at once like a thunder-storm. The punishment of the indolent farmer takes all the months from Spring-time to harvest to approach him. Full and adequate retribution does not come at once. There is a treasuring up." It is coming now "as one that traveleth "-it is on the road. (2.) The ruin is terrible in its consummation. As an armed man." It will seize you as with the grasp of an indignant warrior. Indolence brings ruin.

"

Brother, thou hast a momentous work to do, thou hast to cultivate the wilderness of thy nature, thou hast to repair the moral fences of thy soul. In other words, thou hast to rebuild the ruined temple of thy being. Thou hast no time to lose. Thou hast slept already too long. "Resolve and do" at once.

"Lay firmly every stone; long years may be,

And stormy winds may rend, ere all be done;
But lay the first: thou mayest not live to see
To-morrow's sun."

GIVING MONEY FOR SOULS.-"They shall give every nan a ransom for his soul." Ex. xxx, 12.

An American missionary states, that during almost seven years that he resided in Malta, he was witness every Monday morning to an affecting and admonitory scene. A man passed through the streets ringing a bell in one hand, and rattling a box in the other, crying at every corner, "What will you give for the souls? What will you give for the souls?" The women and children came out of the habitations of poverty, and cast their mites into the box. When it is full it is carried to a neighboring convent, to pay the priests for praying the souls of the dead out of purgatory! Let Protestants be exhorted to "give money for souls" in a far different manner, by assisting Christian missions, and the circulation of the Word of God.

ONLY A FREE-WILL OFFERING FOR THE HOUSE OF GOD.-"The free-will offering for the house of God." Ezra i, 4.

"It has been frequently wished by Christians," says the late Dr. Payson, "that there were some rule laid down in the Bible, fixing the proportion of their property which they ought to contribute to religious uses. This is as if a child should go to his father and say, Father, how many times in the day must I come to

you with some testimonial of my love? How often will it be necessary to show my affection for you?' The father would of course reply, Just as often as your feelings prompt you, my child, and no oftener.' Just so Christ says to his people: Look at me and see what I have done and suffered for you, and then give me just what you think I deserve. I do not wish any thing forced.'"'

GIVING A DEAL- -"The tithe of all things brought they in abundantly." 2 Chron. xxxi, 5.

At the conclusion of a meeting of a religious society connected with Surrey Chapel, a gentleman on the platform arose and said, "I hope every one will give a little." Upon which the venerable Rowland Hill got up and exclaimed in a voice and manner truly characteristic, "I hope every one will give a deal."

THE WORD OF GOD AS ADDRESSED TO INDIVIDUALS. "That thy trust may be in the Lord, I have made known to thee this day, even to thee." Prov. xxii, 19. A gentleman being one day much struck with the Scriptural knowledge of an old lady with whom he was conversing, asked her how she had attained such an extensive acquaintance with the Word of God. To this question she made the following reply: "Sir, much is lost by not considering the Word of God as addressed to us as individuals. For these thirty years I have read the Word of God, carefully attended to every part of it, as if I had been the only person in the world to whom it was addressed; and if I know any thing above my neighbors, under the blessing of God I owe it entirely to this practice."

THE ONLY SOLID SATISFACTION IN LIFE.-"I have

seen all the works that are done under the sun; and, behold, all is vanity and vexation of spirit." Eccl. i, 14.

Mr. Locke, about two months before his death, drew up a letter to a certain gentleman and left this direction on it, "To oe delivered to him after my decease." In it are these remarkable words. This life is a scene of vanity that soon passes away, and affords no solid satisfaction but in the consciousness of doing well, and in the hopes of another life. This is what I can say upon experience, and what you will find to be true when you come to make up the account."

UNDER THE SHIELD OF HEAVEN.-"Thou, O Lord, art a shield for me." Psalm iii, 3.

Luther, when making his way into the presence of Cardinal Cajetan, who had summoned him to answer for his heretical opinions at Augsburg, was asked by one of the Cardinal's minions where he should find a shelter if his patron, the Elector of Saxony, should desert him. "Under the shield of heaven!" was the reply. The silenced minion turned round and went

his way.

SEEKING CONTENT IN SOME ONE OF HIS HOUSES. "In the fullness of his sufficiency he shall be in straits." Job xx, 22.

"I knew a man," says one, that had wealth and riches, and several houses, all beautiful and ready furnished, and who would often trouble himself and his family by removing from one house to another. Being asked by a friend why he removed so often, he replied, it was to find content in some one of them. Content,'

said his friend, 'ever dwells in a meek and quiet soul.'"'

THE MINISTER SEEKING THE DIVINE BLESSING ON HIS STUDIES." Understand, O son of man; for at the Dan. viii, 17. time of the end shall be the vision." Thanks to Divine goodness," says Dr. Payson, "this has been a good day to me. Was favored with considerable freedom in the morning, and rejoiced in the Lord through the day. In the evening felt an unusual degree of assistance, both in prayer and study. Since I began to beg God's blessing on my studies, I have done more in one week than in the whole year before. Surely it is good to draw near to God at all times."

"

A HEATHEN BLACKSMITH WORSHIPING HIS TOOLS.— They sacrifice unto their net, and burn incense unto their drag." Habakkuk i, 16.

A blacksmith, who had been employed one day on the mission premises in India, fetched away his tools next morning for the purpose of worshiping them, it being the day on which the Hindoos pay divine honors to the implements of their various trades; the files and hammers of the smiths, the chisels and saws of the carpenter, the diamond of the glazier, the crucible of the goldsmith, etc., all become idols on this anniversary.

THE MOLE AND THE MAN OF THE WORLD— Gotthold one day looked on while a gardener watched a mole, caught it at its mischievous work, threw it with his spade out of the earth, and made it pay with its life for the damage it had done. This creature's whole employment, thought he then with himself, is to plow up the well-dressed gardens and fields, gnaw and destroy the roots of plants, and by the many heaps it forms, to disfigure and injure the parterres and meadows; all which it does for the sake of its food. Able to see and cater for itself in the dark, and even beneath the earth, it is blind when unexpectedly brought into the light. And so it is with the man of the world. He burrows and filches in secret; seeks his own advantage at the expense of others, who wither and perish through his devices, and raises on every hand the monuments of his enmity and selfishness. Besides, wise and crafty though he be in temporal things, he knows absolutely nothing of those that are spiritual and divine. But Death stands by, and only waits the nod of the Most High to terminate, in a moment, his projects and intrigues, casts the miserable man out of earth, into earth; I mean, from all his temporal possessions, into the grave. To that dark abode he shall carry nothing away, nor shall his glory descend after him; but having loved darkness rather than the light in this present life, he shall never see the light of the life to come. (Ps. xlix, 18, 19.)

Thou faithful God, what would it profit me to live in this world, were I to shut my eyes to the light of heaven! It were better to be a mole, and after death have neither good nor evil to expect, than an ungodly man appointed to the place of everlasting darkness, where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth.

CHRIST'S FORGIVENESS.-Christ's forgiveness of all sins is complete at once. because less would not do us good; his holiness is dispensed by degrees.