settlers, were poor-I got over these difficulties by undertaking myself to erect both, and thereupon I was immediately appointed to my new charge.

"It soon became generally known throughout my parish that I was going to leave it. Almost every individual called upon us, to express his sorrow and regret at the circumstance. Among the very first of these visitors-and it is gratifying to me to be able to record the fact-were some persons with whom I had, unfortunately not been on friendly terms. Whether the fault was mine or theirs, it matters not now. They came with the rest, and begged me most urgently to change my purpose and remain among them. A most affectionate farewell address, couched in terms too flattering for me to repeat, was presented to me. It was signed by all the heads of families in the place, save one, whose displeasure I had incurred, but how I do not at this time remember.

"I will not attempt to describe the scene in the church on the following Sunday, when I preached my last-no, not my last, but my farewell sermon. I have visited that lonely and sequestered valley since, but only once, and I felt no desire to repeat my visit. Not that I was disappointed in the reception I met with from my old friends, but because so few of them were left. Several years had intervened, and produced many sad and fearful changes. Those I had left as children were grown up to manhood, and were married and settled in life, and occupied the places of their fathers: but where were they? I missed them in their wonted seats at church. In vain I looked for my old friends among the cheerful and happy crowd at the church-door after service, who were waiting to welcome me. They were not there. And faint and embarrassing were my recollections of those who seemed to remember me with such affectionate regard. Nor were the old the only ones I missed. No less than three young women whom I had left brides, now stood in that crowd widows, surrounded by their fatherless children. Altogether the interview was a sad and sorrowful one. Of the original settlers one only was left -a solitary old man; and when I went to see him, in hopes that he would cheer me in my loneliness, he did not know me, but began to talk of scenes and circumstances with which he had been familiar some fifty years before I was acquainted with him. With a heavy heart I left the place. I have never since been there, nor is it likely that I ever shall again."— (pp. 93-95.)

And what is the conclusion? Let us give it, verbatim, in the author's own language:--

"The reader will have observed that in the last few chapters I have said very little about my duties. The fact is, I had little to say that I had not said before. They had become so uniform, and were so similar to those I had already described, that I could give no account of them without subjecting my narrative to the imputation of being spun out to a tedious and unnecessary length.

"This, I hope, will be a sufficient apology, not only for the omission I have adverted to, but for my having entered so minutely into other matters.

"In the last casual reference I made to my family, I mentioned that at the time I accompanied my people in their march against the rebels, I had left one of my children dangerously ill. This was a fine little boy, about fourteen months old. He had been gradually sinking for several months, under some chronic disease, which terminated in a rapid decline. He lingered on for more than a month longer, until the following Christmas-eve, when his blessed spirit took its flight to Him who gave it; and, in sadness and sorrow, we laid his earthly remains by the side of those of his little brother-for he was the second we had lost since we came to our present place of abode.

"Severely as we felt the loss of our two little boys, it was comparatively light when contrasted with our distress at the death of our youngest daughter.

This was indeed the heaviest affliction that had ever yet befallen us. She was twelve years old, and her sweetness of disposition, her amiable and affectionate conduct, her meek and submissive deportment, endeared her to all who knew her. But, above all, her fervent and serious piety, strikingly contrasted as it was with her playfulness and vivacity, gave her a hold upon our hearts and affections which no words can describe.

"She was for more than a year in a weak and delicate state of health, alternating between better and worse. She always supposed she should recover, until the fatal truth was communicated to her by a dear friend who undertook the sorrowful task, which we felt ourselves unable to perform. She received the fatal intimation with the utmost calmness; not a feature in her face moved, not a sigh nor a murmur escaped her lips; and when her brokenhearted mother and myself went to her, she said, with a smile which nothing but death can ever make us forget, You should not cry; it is the Lord's will, you know, and I am only going to my little brothers.' It was a hard trial, but we mourn not like those who have no hope'-' we shall go to them, but they will not return to us.'

6

"We lost three other children, but we have six still left to us. They are now all nearly grown up, and promise, under the blessing of God, to be the solace of our declining years. But we are deprived, in a great measure of their society-that of our sons at least. They are scattered far and wide over this all but boundless country, and we can only hope to see them once a-year, during a hurried visit to us of a few days.

My missionary life is drawing to its close, and this little, unpretending account of it must end here. Were I to prolong it, I fear that it would consist only of a wearisome detail of afflicting and distressing incidents, arising partly out of my reduced circumstances, and partly from the infirmities of age, which I feel are gradually creeping upon me. Still I hope that, so long as I am spared to watch over my flock, I may be found a faithful shepherd, and not ungrateful for the numberless mercies and blessings which my heavenly Master has heaped upon me."-(pp. 156-158.)

Such is the beginning, middle, and end, of the narrative of "a missionary" of the Quarterly Review school. But where is the Christianity of the story? We have seen much of adventure,much of gardening, civilization, and something of "religion,”. but of real Christianity we have seen very little. One or two glimpses are allowed us, here and there, and we regret to say that they leave no very favourable impression.

"About this period, namely, the commencement of my sixth year in the country, I succeeded, after several abortive attempts, in forming a Clerical Association.

"We Church missionaries bad to go to the metropolitan town every halfyear, to draw our salaries, as well as to purchase such things as we required for our families, during the ensuing six months. On these occasions, instead of being dispersed among the hotels all over the town, as had previously been the custom, we all lodged together at one hotel during the two or three days we remained in the town. In the mornings we assembled in the House of God as friends' for prayers, and afterwards held sweet counsel together' about our duties, and trials and difficulties. Nor did we forget to tell each other of the many encouraging instances in which our labours and exertions had been blessed with signal and triumphant success. The rector of the parish in which our hotel was situated, always ready to patronize and encourage his brethren in the country, entered zealously into the scheme, and assisted materially in organising the association.

"This institution, which, alas! has long since ceased to exist, was at first

composed of but seven members, being at that time all the clergy in this part of the country;-plain, simple presbyters of a holy catholic and apostolic Church; all of one heart and one mind, with the Scriptures for our rule of faith, and with the canons and rubrics of that Church, which we firmly believed to be in accordance with the Scriptures, as our rule of ministerial practice.

"Years passed on, and our numbers increased nearly tenfold. Some of the new members brought strange things to our ears. For instance, they not only endeavoured, by the most insidious arguments, to shake our faith in the blessed efficacy of the holy Sacraments, especially that of baptism, which they asserted did not convey any inward and spiritual grace,' and absolutely ridiculed the idea of its being considered in any other light than as an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace, but which grace was not given at the time, nor indeed afterwards at any subsequent period in the lives of the recipients of this sign, unless they should happen to be converted and regenerated. They thus jumbled the two terms of Conversion and Regeneration together, or used them synonymously, thereby manifestly proving that they did not understand their meaning. These men did not even know, or at least did not understand, their catechism; and yet there is more genuine, good, and sound orthodox theology in that plain, simple, and concise epitome of our faith, than half the world is aware of.

"The holy sacraments were thus to be frittered away into mere heartless and insignificant forms and ceremonies, to be observed or regulated at will; -matters of indifference! Perhaps, however, I ought not to say so, but to use their own language, and call them non-essentials, regarding which, as they asserted, the faithful and pious churchman may exercise his own discretion, and extend it to the utmost bounds of latitudinarian licence.

"One Faith, one Baptism, one God and Father of all,' had hitherto been our watchword. No wonder, therefore, if we were now frightened away from this arena of controversy and contention, by the broaching of such new and, to us, unheard-of dogmas. Indeed, when plain palpable matters of faith became the subjects of discussion and dispute, to be decided by a majority of votes, and our friendly association degenerated into a theological debating society, it was time for us to withdraw. We did so; and it fell to the ground." -(pp. 56, 57.)

This passage is the nearest approach to a doctrinal question that we can find throughout the work. And it is clear that the mere introduction of spiritual subjects broke up, instead of cementing, as it ought to have done, a clerical association.

The picture is a strange one to any mind accustomed to really missionary work. The whole history, contained in these 158 pages of small print, is one of digging and planting, marrying and giving in marriage. The results of the missionary life appear to be the creation of three backwood churches, and the teaching two or three village choirs to chant the Jubilate, the Venite, and the Te Deum. A single case of heart-conversion does not occur in the whole work; nor, apparently, would the author have known how to deal with it, had such a phenomenon presented itself.

Into what a different scene are we introduced, when we turn for a few moments to Regent's Town, under the true missionary, Johnson. He had been preaching from Heb. ix. 27, 28, and thus writes in his journal :

"One woman wanted to know whether I had not spoken particularly to her. She had been to one of her countrymen, and asked if Massa had not pointed to her. She seemed confident that I had; and said, 'Massa, all that true that you spoke about me yesterday morning when you point to me, I stand just in that fashion;' she wept much, and wanted to know what she must do to be saved from all them bad things that she had been doing. This woman has hitherto been a very bad character. She continued talking: and I suppose would willingly have told me all the sins of which she had been guilty, if I had not prevented her. She was so distressed, that she at last wept aloud. All I could do, was to direct her to Him, whom her sins had pierced. May God the Spirit bless the word which was spoken to her!"

On the occasion of another sermon, Mr. Johnson says

"A man, who has hitherto led a wicked life, came to me much alarmed: he said, On Sunday you preached about them words, 'Come now and let us reason together.' You spoke about a woman who had a bad husband, and who treated his wife very bad but the woman was a christian; she treated her husband very kind, and tried to make him as comfortable as possible; another man observed this, and asked the woman, how she could treat her husband so kind, who did all he could to make her miserable; she answered, that she endeavoured to do so, as in this life only her poor husband would have to enjoy comforts : being an unconverted person she pitied him, when she considered what his awful condition would be in the world to come. Now I stand just the same; my wife I believe serves God for true, and many times I trouble her for nothing, but she bears all, and I think I see her now looking at me with tears in her eyes and sighing. I always thought that that was nothing but fancy; but since you told us about that man and his wife, I have no rest: I am afraid I shall be miserable in the world to come. You said, the same time, that if a man was to fall overboard into the sea, and a rope was thrown to him, and he refused to lay hold of it, if he was drowned it was his own fault. I have heard now six years the word of God, and about the salvation of sinners by the Lord Jesus; but have refused to lay hold of the rope: I am so afraid that it is now too late but am a little encouraged, because God says still, 'Come now, and let us reason together.'

:

""A woman said, 'Massa, that time the week comes when we go to the Lord's Supper, I always get into trouble. I fear so much for this week, because next Sunday the Lord's Supper. Suppose this be only once to me, but me see this every time;

4

something always come and give me trouble. And them words which you speak to-night make me 'fraid too much,-I hope the Lord Jesus will keep me."

"I can't tell,' said another woman, 'how I stand this time. Sometimes I long to go to church to hear the word of God; but, sometimes, I could do any thing else, I so cold. I think I love the Lord Jesus; but ah, how my heart fights against me; them thoughts that come in my heart, are not fit for any body to take in the mouth. Sometimes I think I hate everybody: I no like to talk with any person: I hate myself. Oh, I am so wicked-my sins so many and so great; but still I have hope; when I see what great things the Lord has done for me, I am sure that He is my great Saviour, I believe He save me. If I perish I will perish at His feet.' This woman leads a holy life-has been about five years a communicant, and is now through grace an established christian.

""A woman said, 'Before time, now two year, I was sick; and last year, I was very sick. That time, my heart glad very much I can say, that time, when I live on sick bed, Jesus 'altogether lovely. I thought, that time, I should die-I was sure I should go to heaven; but this time I fear, because you say in the Church that God's people are a troubled people; and you see Massa, me no have trouble this time-me no sick-my husband no sick-my child no sick-me and my husband live very quiet together we have always something to eat and clothes to put on : you see me have no trouble: and that make me 'fraid very much, that me no belong to the Lord Jesus Christ. Besides, my heart more wicked this time; he always plague me, me don't know what to do.' I spoke to her as her case required, and she went home much relieved and very thankful.”

"A man, a candidate for baptism, came to me and said, with apparent grief, My dear master, I come to tell you my trouble. Sunday before last, when you went to Gloucester town to preach, I was walking, and breaking the Sabbath day: and since that, I have no rest day and night, I can't sleep, and it is no use to hide it from you. My country-man came to my house and said, 'Come, let us go walking,' I said, 'No: I have done bad long time, I now want to serve God: my country-man, no do so any longer; you see me hear the word of God, and by and bye, we must account for what we hear.' Then another of my countrymen came, and he talk and talk, till, at last I went with them; but, the same time, my heart trouble me very much. When we walk in the road, we see you coming; and we all run into the bush, and hide ourselves till you pass by; when I hide myself,