pinching frosts, no chilly blasts, no dreary, cheerless winter, but one eternal spring. Forever green, forever gay are its sunny plains; eternal verdure clothes its fields and forests, while

"Fruits rich-flavor'd, gratify the taste."

With the little sloop he can reach the islands that begird the coast; with the pit-pan and darey ascend the rivers. He can pluck the yellow orange that ripens on the tree, the luscious pine-apple, and the mellow sour-sop, the sun-apple, the mango, the citron, the fig, the guava, and the pomegranate; he can drink the cream of the young cocoanut, and partake of his most favorite part of the turtle or hecate. Every thing is in the first style, and should he possess health, he has little in these respects of which to complain. Merchants, magistrates, and sometimes governors, pay him their early compliments and seek his society and friendship. He exerts an influence and sustains a position, exceedingly pleasing and honorable, which will enhance, rather than depreciate, the value of human life. His sphere of labor is waiting, the fields are white ready to the harvest, and he who "reaps" in some cases "receives" instant

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wages" to repay his toil; while the affection and devotedness of the people soon produce, or cherish, if already glowing, a flame of love towards them which many waters cannot quench.

He had tasted these sweets; he had engaged in

this delightful labor. Around him had gathered the African, the Carib, and the Creole, with not a few natives of colder regions with a fairer skin. To these were made known the wonders of redeeming grace and dying love. And many a dark athletic has wandered into the bush, sat him down beneath a palmetto-tree to weep, and there, in broken accents, well understood in the upper sanctuary, implored for his guilty soul that mercy that massa minister say so freely given through Jesus Christ, the Spirit itself making intercession with groanings which cannot be uttered. For, as if to wither the vanity and pride of man, it is recorded: "A broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise."

But his warfare was soon accomplished. Small, indeed, was the amount of labor he performed, but "he did what he could," and a burning seraph could do no more. His last text sweetly indicated the tone of his feelings and the state of his mind. It was Christ's question to Peter, "Simon son of Jonas, lovest thou me ?" Doubtless his own response, like that of Peter, was, "Lord, thou knowest all things, thou knowest that I love thee." "Whom have I in heaven but thee, and there is none upon earth that I desire beside thee."

And now the dim visions of earthly hope vanish like a dream; his wasted flesh, his pallid cheek, his sunken eye, tell that he is drawing near to the chambers of death. He realizes his condition, and is not

afraid. A momentary pang was felt when he thought of the associations of home, his days of boyhood, his father's cottage, the family group assembled for prayer, their hymns of praise. He could have wished once more to embrace them all, and give them a parting farewell; but he quickly wiped away the fugitive tear, and faintly exclaimed, "Not as I will, but as thou wilt." The stillness of death succeeded. He turned away from earth to commune with heaven. Ministering angels hover round his couch, and invite him up to the abodes of bliss. Heavenly raptures delight his soul, sounds as of hymns seraphic burst upon his ravished ear, and the dazzling glories of eternity are all open to his vision. He bathes in an ocean of eternal love. He has clasped in the arms of a living faith the Son of God, and feels his heaven already begun. Then

The Burning of the "Tanjore."

PERHAPS no incident caused a greater sensation at the time, than did the destruction of the "Tanjore" East Indiaman, by lightning. This intensely interesting incident, which forms the subject of the beautiful embellishment of the present volume, has been detailed by Mr. Hoole, in so picturesque and graphic a style, in his “Madras Mission," that we are compelled to let the author tell his own story; feeling assured that no additions of our own could render the narrative more impressive. We may, however, be permitted in this place to record our high estimate of the absorbing interest and value of the work above referred to.

"After an unavoidable delay of some months, we embarked at Gravesend on Friday, May 19th, 1820, in the ship 'Tanjore,' a private trader of five hundred tons' burden, bound (on her first voyage) for Madras and Calcutta, and commanded by Captain G. H. Dacre, an able and experienced officer of the royal navy.

"Besides my valued colleague and his wife, I had the happiness to reckon among my fellow-passen

gers, the pious and much-esteemed Sir Richard Otley, Chief Justice of the Island of Ceylon, and the Rev. Thomas and Mrs. Browning, of the Church Missionary Society, who were appointed to Kandy, in the same island, whose friendship and society formed a principal part of our enjoyments on board, and rendered more tolerable the prospect of the confinement and tedium of so long a voyage.

"On the evening of the following day we anchored off Deal, and gladly embraced the opportunity afforded us of passing another Christian Sabbath in our native land. The Rev. W. M. Harvard, formerly missionary in Ceylon, showed us much kindness. He introduced us to his congregations, commended us to their prayers, and when we re-embarked, on the morning of Monday, May 22d, dismissed us with some valuable advice, respecting our voyage, and the climate in which we should probably have to reside and labor for many years.

"Our passage down the Channel was boisterous, and exceedingly trying to persons unaccustomed to the sea. I was the only passenger who did not suffer from sea-sickness, and was happy to have it in my power to render some assistance to my less favored friends. The Lizard-Point, the last English land we saw, died away from our view on the evening of May 31st; we then immediately entered into fine weather, and became more settled and comfortable in our new circumstances.