among females degraded and uncivilized, who have never heard of the religion of Jesus. How would it gladden my sad heart, in the trying hour of my departure, could I but leave a dear circle of females of my own age, engaged for God, and eminent for their usefulness, in Haverhill. Well; I hope to find a circle of Hindoo sisters in India, interested in that religion which many of my companions reject, though blessed with innumerable privileges. But my friend M. will not treat with indifference this religion. O no: I will cherish the fond hope, that she will renounce the world, become a follower of Immanuel, and be unwearied in her exertions to spread the triumphs of the cross through the world. I must leave you, my dear M., with God. May you become a living witness for him. When our journey through this barren wilderness is ended, may we meet in heaven. HARRIET ATWOOD." CHAPTER V. Extracts from Letters to sundry persons-her intimacy with Miss Hasseltine—the hour of departure arrives her marriage and sailing for India. Oct. 10. I have this day entered upon my nineteenth year. How great a change has the last year made in my views and prospects for life! Another year will probably affect, not merely my prospects, but my situation. Should my expectations be realized, my dwelling will be far from the dear land of my nativity, and from beloved friends, whose society rendered the morning of my life cheerful and serene. In distant India-every earthly prospect will be dreary. "But even there content can spread a charm, To Mr. Newell. Haverhill, Oct. 10, 1811. "THIS is the eve of my birth-day. Pensive and alone, I have this evening given full scope to recollection of the past, and anticipation of the future. The retrospect of departed years affords but little solid satisfaction. How has my life been replete with vanity, and with sorrow, occasioned by frequent departures from God! But still the recollection of some seasons ever worthy of grateful remembrance, excites in me sensations of unutterable joy. There was an hour, when the light of divine truth irradiated my benighted soul-when I could rejoice in the Lord, and joy in the God of my salvation. I could willingly, then, renounce the world, for it had lost its power to charm. sweet was the idea of suffering for Jesus. sweet to take a decided part in his cause. How How Were it not for the continual mercy of Jehovah, I should sink under the remembrance of my many back. slidings since that hour. O for a heart to repair to that Fountain where sinners, vile and guilty, can be washed and cleansed. I have spent this afternoon in the sick chamber of a very dear cousin. She is rapidly hastening to the world of spirits but is calm and tranquil as the summer's eve. Here I have learned an important lesson, which the alluring circles of the gay and thoughtless could never teach me. Oh how valuable, how exceeding precious is the religion of the gospel on a sick bed and in a dying hour! What but this can support the soul, when it stands trembling on the verge of eternity, just ready to make its last, its final remove." Oct. 20. "Soon I hope, I feel, and am assured, That I shall lay my head, my weary, aching head, The grass green sod shall flourish sweetly." Oct. 25. How strong are the ties of natural affection! Will distance or time ever conquer the attachment, which now unites my heart so closely to my mother, the dear guardian of my youth--and to my beloved brothers and sisters? O no;though destined to a foreign country, where a parent's voice will no more gladden my melancholy heart, still shall that love which is stronger than death, dwell within, and often waft a sincere prayer to heaven for blessings unnumbered upon her. Long shall remembrance dwell on scenes passed in the dear circle of Haverhill friends. Nov. 4. "Tis midnight. My wavering mind would fain dwell on some mournful subject. I weep-then sing some melancholy air, to pass away the lingering moments. What would my dear mother say, to see her Harriet thus involved in gloom? But why do I indulge these painful feelings? Is it because my Father is unkind, and will not hear a suppliant's cries? Is he not willing to direct my wandering steps, to guide my feet in the paths of peace? O yes; his ear is ever open to the prayer of the fatherless. Let me then go to himtell him all my griefs, and ask of him a calm and clear conviction of duty. 66 Why sinks my weak desponding mind? Nov. 10. The rising sun witnesses for my hea venly Father, that he is good. O yes; his character is infinitely lovely-his attributes are perfect. I behold his goodness in the works of creation and Providence. But the beauty of his character shines most conspicuously in the plan of salvation. In the Redeemer, beauty and worth are combined. And shall my heart remain unaffected amidst such an endless variety of witnesses of the glory of God? Shall I be silent, for whom the Son of God, on Calvary, bled and died? From this date, till her departure from America, her journal was discontinued. The various duties of preparation for her future comfort and usefulness allowed little leisure for writing. And that leisure was devoted to her numerous correspondents, all of whom became dearer to her, as the hour of wider separation drew near. The number of letters written by her during her short life, was very great. Her private papers, written for her own eye only, and most of which she destroyed at the time of her departure, were yet more numerous. Among the earliest, were some poetical efforts, of which the favourite themes were, the wonderful works of God. It is often the disposition of the pious heart, to borrow the aid of harmonious numbers to express its most ardent emotions of admiration, gratitude and joy. Such were, evidently, the motives of these poetical compositions of her childhood. To Mr. Newell. Haverhill, Nov. 21, 1811. "THE contemplated mission occupies my sleeping and my waking thoughts. O, who would |