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Bishop HEBER, who wrote the beautiful Missionary hymn beginning with

“ From Greenland's icy mountains," and who was a missionary himself, thus speaks of the Mussulman Dandees, in India, who guarded his boat on the Ganges :—“ Their uniform is merely a white turban of a singularly flat shape, a white shirt and trousers, with a shawl wrapped round their loins. I was amused to-day by seeing them preparing and eating their dinner, seated in circles with an immense dish of rice, and a little sauce-bowl of currie, well seasoned with garlic, set between every three or four men. These people sit, not like the Turks, but with the knees drawn up like morikeys. Their eating and drinking vessels are of copper, very bright and well kept, and their whole appearance is cleanly and decent. Their



countenances are more animated, but less mild and gentle than the Hindoos.” On the right of the group of Dandees in the picture is a peepul tree, sacred to the god Siva, and with an evil spirit, as the Hindoos believe, dwelling under every leaf. Oh, the absurdities of heathenism! Christian children, use every means in your power to spread the Gospel of salvation throughout that land of darkness.


The rich and golden beams of cheerful light

Cast their soft radiance o'er thy peaceful way ;
But soon the shadows of approaching night

Will shroud the glories of life's sunny day.

Oh! waste not, then, these precious morning hours

In self-indulgence, or in careless glee;
Nor idly linger in thy lovely boxers ;

For there is nobler work awaiting thee.

The high behests of heaven unfold to view

Commands thou hast neglected to fulfil ;
Arise in haste! for thou hast much to do,

If thou wouldst yet obey thy Saviour's wiii.
Go, tell the gay and thoughtless ones around,

The sweet persuasive story of his love ;
And waft to distant lands the joyful sound,

Of free salvation and a rest above.

And by your gentle and attractive mien,

Commend the holy faith which you profess;
That in your daily conduct may be seen

Religion in its winning loveliness.



Then when thy work is closed by sudden night,

And thou from earth's dark scenes art called away, The joys of heaven shall burst upon thy sight,

And thine shall be an everlasting day.



The Queen of Raratonga, an island in the South Pacific Ocean, having about four thousand inhabitants who are converted to Christianity, addressed the following letter to the treasurer of the London Missionary Society :

October 4th. "DEAR SIR,-Love to you through the Lord Jesus the Messiah. You know that ours is a land of poverty, and that we have no gold holes here. Firewood, sweet potatoes, and poultry, are the only means by which we can

obtain money.

and we

“At the annual meeting of 1855 we found that our subscriptions did not amount to what we intended ; urged one another to increased diligence that our subscriptions might be more next year. One of our number got up and said, “The bag for this year is not full. Let us try if we cannot choke it up before we talk about next year.' Then we began to search our pockets, and by some means or other we got up to what we promised, and we were very happy, and thanked God for giving us the


“We are prospering, spiritually and temporally. Men and women are imitating the good ways of you foreigners, who have come to us with the blessings of the Gospel,



and whose customs were never before known in this land. We are planning to get more money for the coming year, and we have already obtained something towards it. This is my word to you, Mr. Moneyholder. Do not be cast down; you have hitherto had much, and I hope you will yet have more. We will do what we can, and would do more ; but we have no holes here where gold is found. These are our desires that the word of God may increase among us, and spread throughout the world. The amount of our subscription for 1855 is two hundred and thirty dollars.

(Signed.) “NA MAKEA.”


I am

Are you delaying?—Delaying what? Delaying to seek the Saviour and secure salvation for your soul. Many are doing so; perhaps you are. Many have done so until it was too late, and have been lost for ever. Poor Catherine Hope did so. When lying on her death bed, she said, “I am dying, do not attempt to deceive me. dying and I am not prepared for death. Oh! I cannot die,- I cannot die,– I am not prepared for death." She clasped her hands together, and again sank back upon

her pillow. Again she rose up, hastily, and, looking round with an expression of most affecting wretchedness, she slowly and with awful emphasis exclaimed,-—"My soul -is-lost. I have neglected the great salvation.”

One of the friends who stood weeping by her bed expressed a wish that her minister was present; poor Catherine's ear caught the sound, and she implored her aunt to send for Mr. A

For a moment a gleam of hope seemed to overspread her countenance, but her



rapidly increasing weakness seemed anew to convince her that she was speedily sinking into the arms of death.

“I am too late," she exclaimed, “I am too late." She closed her eyes, and—apparently exhausted—she laid her head upon her aunt's shoulder, and continued silent for a few minutes. Again she opened her eyes, and, looking anxiously towards the door of the apartment, attempted to speak. She was not able. She then gradually sank into a lethargic state, and seemed unable to retain upon her mind a consciousness of what was passing around, though, evidently struggling to do so. She shortly after becam wholly insensible, and no effort availed to arouse her. In a few hours from her first return to consciousness, Catherine Hope breathed her last, and ere Mr. A had arrived she had passed into eternity.

Why do we print so sad a story here? Because we fear that some who will read it may be as far from the Saviour as Catherine was. To such we say,—Now is the accepted time; to-morrow may be too late.


IN some countries the Missionaries are received by the poor heathen people with great delight. Nothing can exceed their joy, and sometimes they adopt curious ways of showing it. One Missionary tells us of the trays of sugar-candy that were handed to him on his arrival at one of the native villages. Garlands of double sweetscented jasmine blossoms, strung together as country girls in England string little daisy necklaces in spring, were also thrown around his neck. When the Bishop of Calcutta went to Ceylon, he found to his surprise that

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