It was on a pleasant summer's eve, that the pastor of one of our NewEngland villages took his usual walk, after spending the day in study.He was a good old man, who had long been faithful over the beloved peo ple of his charge—and he had been a successful labourer in the cause of his Master, till his head had become silvered, and his tottering tenement needed the support of a staff. The sun had already sunk in the west, and was pouring his last rays into the golden sky, as the pastor entered the village graveyard. There is something in this hour of the day, that gives a pleasing melancholy to the soul-which, added to the place in which he was walking, was peculiarly adapted to assist the holy man in his meditations; and, if need be, to raise his thoughts from this world, and to place them on that which he felt was his home. The good man was pressing beneath his softly trembling steps the sods which covered many of his beloved parishioners, when he came to the spot where lay his wife and three beautiful daughters, whose loveliness, like the opening rose, was blasted ere it was fully exhibited. The pastor leaned on his staff, and bent over these graves, and was just marking out by their side the spot where he hoped shortly to lie in peace, when he was startled by hearing the sobs of a child. He turned, and, at a little distance, beheld a lovely little white-headed boy, who was kneeling and sobbing over the grave of his father, whose ashes had lately been deposited beneath. With a melting heart the good shepherd approached the child of his friend, and, with the tenderness of an angel, he raised and kissed this orphan lamb of his flock, whose face was pallid through grief, and whose bright blue eyes were swollen by weeping. He sat down beside the grave, and pressed the weeping boy to his bosom..

"O Sir," said the child, "let me cry for my father-he lies deep in that grave; they tell me he will never again be my father-I fear that I have offended him, that he will no more be my father, and I want to ask him to forgive me, and to kiss me as he used to do !-Oh! if he would once more be my father, I would never again offend him. But they say he is dead! O, I would sit here and cry all night—I would never stop if my poor father would come to me! But he will not come-for, a few days before they put him in this hole, he told me-O, I do remember it -he told me he was going to leave me, and I should never have a father any more; and he stroked my hair with his sick hand, and told me when he was buried in the ground, that I must be a good boy and love God : Oh! my poor, good father!"

The feeling pastor pressed the hand of the sorrowing child within his— and, ere he could answer him, he had wet with his tears the silken hair of the orphan. His first object was to sooth him into confidence, and then to direct him to a Father who would never forsake him. With patience he satisfied his curiosity respecting death-how that it is a long sleep, but that the voice of God will one day awake even the dead. He told him how death was introduced into the world, and made him understand that it was the consequence of sin. He explained to him the natural depravity of the heart-how we, "like sheep, have all gone astray." He laboured to impress upon him a correct view of the character of Godhis attributes of love, mercy, justice, &c. and then explained how we might be saved by Jesus Christ. He next strove deeply to impress upon the listening boy what is "the chief end of man ;" and thus concluded, while his hearer seemed to hang upon his lips: "And now, my dear little boy, you have indeed lost a tender father; but I have been trying to point you to a Father, who has promised never to forsake the poor orphan.” "But," says the child," what is it to be an orphan ?”

"It is to be left destitute of parents while we are yet children." “I think I understand; but what is a poor orphan ?"

The clergyman was affected, but replied, "It is a child who is left destitute of property as well as friends."

"O, I wish," said the child, in the simplicity of his heart, "I wish that I was a poor orphan, if God would be my father."

The good minister wept-for he knew that the child's wish respecting property would be fully satisfied-" I trust, my dear child, that God will be your father. You know how short are our lives-how certain our death-how much we have to do to prepare for death-and how we should devote our lives to God, that we may meet death with peace. I hope you will not only be good, and live so as to meet your poor father in heaven, but I hope your life will be spent in trying to do good to

others."

The clergyman held the hand of the child, and they knelt in prayer on the grave. The petition was that God would provide for the little orphan. It was now dark, except what light was afforded by the bright twinkling of the stars. As they left the graveyard, the shepherd directed the attention of his lamb to these wonderful works of God, and his heart beat with joy when he exclaimed, " My Father made them all.”

He led the orphan to his place of residence-soothed his grief-assuaged his sorrows-and determined to adopt and make him his child. But God had otherwise determined. The faithful pastor was soon after laid upon the bed of death, and from the chamber which had, for many years, been the witness of the piety of his heart, and which was "privileged above the common walks of virtuous life," his spirit, as we trust, flew from the snares, the corruptions, and the sins of this transitory world, and found a shelter in the bosom of his Redeemer-and left the child a second time an orphan.

At the death of the clergyman, the little boy was thrown upon the wide world with but few friends :-his patron was dead, and he was forgotten. Many who saw, felt compassion for him. They saw sorrow often brooding over his countenance, and the big tear often gush from his eyes: they saw and pitied-" hoped he would be provided for"-and left him as they found him. But it should be a matter of consolation to dying pa

rents, that there is One who heareth even "the young ravens when they cry," and will provide for the fatherless.

I have only to add, that to the subject of this narrative God was ever near. He was placed in many different situations-passed through many trials, but was ever protected through the tender mercy of God. At the age of sixteen, it is believed he experienced the operations of the Spirit of God upon his heart: he thought of this interview with the good clergyman, and of his advice, his prayers and his wishes; and he dedicated his life to the service of God. The hand of charity was extended. He is now a member of one of our most respectable colleges; and it is hoped and believed that this orphan may hereafter be known as a Missionary of the Cross in some heathen land, where he has determined to spend his days. PEREGRINUS.

THE EPISTLE

FROM THE YEARLY MEETING of the SOCIETY OF FRIENDS,

Held in London by adjournments from the 24th of the 5th month, to the 5th of the sixth month, inclusive, 1820, to the quarterly and monthly meetings of Friends, in Great Britain, Ireland, and elsewhere.

DEAR FRIENDS,

It hath pleased our Heavenly Father again to permit us to meet for transacting the concerns of our religious Society; and we have from time to time in the course of this meeting, had reverently to acknowledge the continuance of his love towards us. We have partaken of the fellowship of the Gospel; of that fellowship in which our predecessors, valiant for the truth, were comforted in the day of persecution; and which has been a strength to the true believers from the earliest periods of the Christian Church; we therefore again feel engaged to offer the salutation of our love to all our dear friends, wherever they may be situated, with earnest desires that they may become united unto one another in Christ Jesus, our Holy Head..

The amount of the sufferings of our friends, as reported to this meeting, on account of tithes and other ecclesiastical demands, is upwards of sixteen thousand pounds.

Our distant brethren have been again brought to our remembrance by an epistle from the Yearly Meeting of Ireland, and one from each of those established on the American continent. It is encouraging to us to observe, that these communications bespeak a continued solicitude for the prosperity of the cause of truth. By those from America we find that the welfare of their Indian neighbours, and the rights of the injured African race, are still dear to our friends on the other side of the Atlantic, and that, as favourable opportunities occur, they are publicly advocating the cause of justice and mercy.

This meeting has been deeply affected on hearing that the slave-trade, notwithstanding its abolition by our legislature, and by various foreign powers, still exists, with the horrors consequent upon it, to a lamentable, extent; and although the way does not immediately open for much to be done by us, on behalf of the objects of this nefarious and cruel traffic, we earnestly commend them to your continued remembrance and commiseration.

L

dition proposed will, we believe, be found among the most interesting pages of our work. We could wish to make our readers better acquainted with the character and moral circumstances of seamen; and we could wish to turn the attention of seamen themselves to the efforts that are made on their behalf, to the evident progress of the Gospel among their brotherhood, and to all that God is doing through the world. We are persuaded that the Christian Herald cannot aim at any one single object inore noble than the reformation and Christian benefit of seamen, were it only to bless these hitherto neglected thousands:-but it is also, through them to bless mankind. It is, that a class of men who are connected with all the coasts, and islands, and rivers, and cities of our earth, should become so influenced by Christianity, that wherever they go they may show forth its exellence-that the ships of trade may prepare the way for the Gospel by the depth of impression which Christian goodness would make upon base and idolatrous men-that when a ship departs whose crew have been honest, and temperate, and kind, and holy, there might be left such an admiring sense of the divine power as should prepare the way for the ministers of Jesus-that when they return from seeing the wickedness and idolatry of mankind, their hearts should so burn with Christian compassion, that the cities which employed them to bring home the productions of other nations, should be compelled to send back the Gospel. It is that seamen should cheerfully aid the progress of our holy religion, and by their own efforts, as well as their example, help on the conversion of the world—that the ships of Tarshish might be FOREMOST in bringing sons of Zion from far, with their silver and gold, to the name of the Lord our God.

Had not our seamen been estranged from our churches-had they not been left to abandonment-had they not been specimens of vice in all the cities and islands of Heathendom, how comparatively easy were now the effort to evangelize the world!

THE PORT OF NEW-YORK SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING THE GOSPEL AMONG SEAMEN having proposed the alteration in our work, we felt it our duty to concur, and to engage in the good design with all our hearts; and it shall not, by God's grace, be our fault if the Christian Herald is not the comforting and cheering companion of both landsmen and seamen-if it shall not help on the day when every ship shall bear the BETHEL FLAG as a signal that it is the HOUSE of GOD, and when every port, instead of opening to the seamen who visit it the haunts of vice, shall receive them in Christian fellow ship, as into a CITY OF THE LORD!

It was on a pleasant summer's eve, that the pastor of one of our NewEngland villages took his usual walk, after spending the day in study.He was a good old man, who had long been faithful over the beloved peo ple of his charge-and he had been a successful labourer in the cause of his Master, till his head had become silvered, and his tottering tenement needed the support of a staff. The sun had already sunk in the west, and was pouring his last rays into the golden sky, as the pastor entered the village graveyard. There is something in this hour of the day, that gives a pleasing melancholy to the soul-which, added to the place in which he was walking, was peculiarly adapted to assist the holy man in his meditations; and, if need be, to raise his thoughts from this world, and to place them on that which he felt was his home. The good man was pressing beneath his softly trembling steps the sods which covered many of his beloved parishioners, when he came to the spot where lay his wife and three beautiful daughters, whose loveliness, like the opening rose, was blasted ere it was fully exhibited. The pastor leaned on his staff, and bent over these graves, and was just marking out by their side the spot where he hoped shortly to lie in peace, when he was startled by hearing the sobs of a child. He turned, and, at a little distance, beheld a lovely little white-headed boy, who was kneeling and sobbing over the grave of his father, whose ashes had lately been deposited beneath. With a melting heart the good shepherd approached the child of his friend, and, with the tenderness of an angel, he raised and kissed this orphan lamb of his flock, whose face was pallid through grief, and whose bright blue eyes were swollen by weeping. He sat down beside the grave, and pressed the weeping boy to his bosom..

"O Sir," said the child, "let me ery for my father-he lies deep in that grave; they tell me he will never again be my father-I fear that I have offended him, that he will no more be my father, and I want to ask him to forgive me, and to kiss me as he used to do!-Oh! if he would once more be my father, I would never again offend him. But they say he is dead! O, I would sit here and cry all night-I would never stop if my poor father would come to me! But he will not come-for, a few days before they put him in this hole, he told me-O, I do remember it -he told me he was going to leave me, and I should never have a father any more; and he stroked my hair with his sick hand, and told me when he was buried in the ground, that I must be a good boy and love God: Oh! my poor, good father !"