June 27, 1790 in the village of Rothwell, Northamptonshire. He had the misfortune, at a very early age, to lose his father, who fell while fighting the battles of his country on the plains of Egypt. His mother being then left destitute, he was deprived of the advantages of an early education, except that which he derived from an occasional attendance at a Sunday-school. His mind, naturally vigorous, being placed under few restraints, he soon contracted the detestable habit of swearing. But this vice, though dreadful in itself, was not followed in him by others, which tended to impeach his character for honesty, veracity, and a strict attention to the duties of his station. At about the age of fourteen, he entered into an engagement with the late Mr. Blunden, St. John's-lane, Clerkenwell, intending, as an apprentice, to learn the business of a biscuit-baker. His master, however, dying, he was succeeded in his shop and calling by Mr. Davies, in the month of March, 1806. To him, John Smith was recommended by his former mistress, as a lad well acquainted with the customers, and one that was likely to be serviceable. On this recommendation, Mr. Davies consented to take him, and both the lad and his mother approving the terms, he was bound an apprentice for six years, which he regularly served; and after the expiration of that term, he continued in the employment of his master, until his engagement with the Missionary Society, which took place in the year 1816. From this time, to the period of his decease, he continued to correspond with Mr. Davies; and in the last letter which he sent, prior to his imprisonment, he enclosed five pounds for his mother, to whose necessities he was ever attentive, and who, residing in the vicinity of London, has to deplore the loss of one of the best of sons.

At the time of his being bound an apprentice, so much had his education been neglected, he was unable to write his namie, and only made a mark, as the sign of his assent to the agreement. His master, on perceiving that he appeared ashamed of his inability to write, kindly offered to instruct him. A copy-book was accordingly purchased, and copies were set by Mr. Davies, under whose fostering care, the improvement he made was exceedingly rapid, but no marks whatever of piety had hitherto appeared. He was not inattentive to reading; and had one night been reading while in bed, (a practice though but too common, that cannot be too much reprobated,) when, falling asleep, the candle caught the bed clothes, which were instantly in a flame.

The sensations which the heat occasioned, roused him from his repose, just in time to save his own life, and to preserve the house from destruction; but the greater part of the bedding was consumed.

In the course of divine providence, he was led, by a fellow workman, to hear the Rev. John Stevens, of Prescot-street, Goodman-fields, and in what was deli vered on that occasion, he seemed to feel some interest. This friend repeated his invitation, and he again consented to accompany him: until, at length, invitations became unnecessary, and he gave decided proof, that religion had gained an ascendency in his estimation. Nearly all his former books were quickly discarded. Some few, that were of a moral tendency, he sold, and with the money purchased a Bible, and other religious books. The others, that they might not extend their contaminating influence, he consigned to the flames. He now found, that he had every thing to learn; and under this conviction, was as diligent in the acquirement of useful knowledge, as he had previously been in the acquisition of that which tended to debase his moral and intellectual powers.

After having for some time attended preaching at Tunbridge chapel, he applied for admission, and was received as a member of that church. Here a Sunday-school being formed, he became a teacher; and, in this capacity, discharged his duty with conscientious exactness, being rarely absent, or scarcely ever five minutes behind the time appointed for assembling.

In the science of music, he also made a considerable proficiency, with scarcely any other assistance than that which imparted its first rudiments; and in the higher walks of literature, which he soon began to tread, an ardent desire for classical attainments was kindled, which no obstacle could ever repress.

In the present state of the religious world, it is not to be supposed, that diligence and talents like these could long remain unnoticed, by those who are actively engaged in sending labourers in the missionary cause. He was soon distinguished as a person well qualified for the missionary department, and as such was accepted by the London Missionary Society, who placed him under the care of the late Rev. Mr. Newton, of Witham, preparatory to his going abroad. On Thursday evening, December 12th, 1816, Mr. John Smith was ordained a missionary to Demerara, to supply Le Resouvenir, the station occupied by Mr. Wray, before his removal to Berbice. He sailed from Liverpool, in the ship William Neilson,

on the 30th of December, 1816, for Demerara, which colony he reached on the 23rd of February in the following year; and in this place he continued to labour until his death.

Scarcely had he landed, before he received a specimen of the light, in which, as a missionary, he was surveyed. On waiting on the governor, he was met with a degree of coldness bordering on hostility; his excellency observing, "If ever I know you, Sir, to teach a negro to read, I will send you out of the colony immediately." But though watched with all the suspicious vigilance which this salutation was calculated to inspire, such was the care with which Mr. Smith conducted himself, that not even his most inveterate enemies were ever able to fix a blot on his character, until the fatal revolt, which lately took place among the negroes; when, on the charge of being suspected of having promoted dissatisfaction among them, he was seized, committed to jail, tried by a court-martial, and condemned to death. Fearful, however, of carrying this awful sentence into execution, without the sanction of his majesty, it was sent to England for that 'purpose; but meeting with the royal negative, his reprieve was immediately transmitted to the colony, where it is said to have arrived a few hours after he had breathed his last.

3

From his long residence in Demerara, and the fatigues necessarily attendant on the duties of his station, Mr. Smith's health had been somewhat impaired, prior to the revolt, his constitution having

suffered from the enervating effects of the climate. The charges brought against him, therefore, occasioned a shock which he was badly able to withstand, and his long and close confinement tended to press with peculiar severity on a weakened frame, which nothing but relaxation and To this must indulgence could restore. be added, the agitation which his trial occasioned, the painful sensations resulting from his sentence, and the state of suspense in which he remained, before his majesty's pleasure could be known. All these, in their combined effect, were more than his frame could support. He languished in confinement from August, 1823, until February, 1824, when "the weary wheels of life stood still."

From Mr. Smith's numerous letters transmitted to his friends in England, during his residence in Demerara, materials might easily be collected, sufficient to fill an interesting volume.

In his last letter to Mr. Davies, and perhaps the last that he ever wrote, he thus expresses the state of his mind in its concluding paragraph, to which we have subjoined a fac-simile of his hand-writing: "I feel pretty happy in my mind. I know not what judgment awaits me. Sometimes I think my decaying frame will not hold together long enough for it to affect me. I am in the Lord's hand, and feel quite willing he should do with me what he pleases. Indeed, I often feel anxious for the period to arrive, when I shall inhabit a house not made with hands,' Pray for me."

of sober trains of thought, relative to past days, but likewise of good resolves, as to the future, I began ruminating on the names that now, alas! live only in the deeply affectionate remembrances of one, who, (as it were) commenced the career of life with them, and has been spared to follow their mortal remains to the "house appointed for all living." The place of my residence and every particular connected with it, brought keenly to my mind's eye, a most beloved female rela

tive. She flitted before my imagination, in all the delightfully innocent gaiety of her youth. In the very short space of an hour, I lived over, (if the expression may be used,) the last three years of my life, of the former part of which, she was one chief charm and comfort. Yes, I saw her again, the same wit, good sense, and unceasing liveliness sparkled in her eye, and I believe the illusion was so strong that my lips were about to utter an address to her,-when memory transported me to her death-couch, and there I stood, wrapped in sorrow too deep for tears, beholding existence quickly ebbing from one who was so eminently fitted to enjoy the boon, and use it to good purpose There was indeed much of comfort to reflect that her immortal spirit was just about to take the wings of a dove, to fly away and be at rest for ever-to know that like the bird cowering for a very moment on the branch which begins to shew the sear leaf of incipient autumn, ere it wings its way to more genial climes, her soul was only bursting the thrall of its earthly shackles, to hasten to the lovely land that is afar off;" but, oh, thou eternal God !" Thy ways are in the sea, and thy paths in the deep waters, and thy footsteps are not known." The door opened, and candle-light interrupted my twilight reverie; so I took up the second volume of the " Etonian," and turning over its leaves carelessly, fixed my eyes upon the following lines, which, in general idea, have often flitted through my own mind, as singularly applicable as elegy could possibly be to the circumstance, and very sweetly expressed.

But thou thyself to glory and liberty art flown ; And the song that tells thy virtues, and mourns thy early doom,

Shall be gentle as thy happy death, and peaceful as thy tomb.

Thy place no longer knows thee beside the household hearth,

We miss thee in our hour of woe, we miss thee in our mirth;

But the thought that thou wert one of us, that

thou hast borne our name,

Is more than we would part with for fortune or for fame.

Thy dying gift of love, 'twas a light and slender token,

And thy parting words of comfort were few and · faintly spoken;

But memory must forsake us, and life itself decay, Ere those gifts shall lie forgotten, or those accents pass away

Farewell, our best and fairest! a long, a proud

farewell!

May those who love thee follow to the place

where thou dost dwell;

Like the lovely star that led from far the wander'rs to their God,

SPIRIT OF THE

Public Journals.

PLACES OF ENTERTAINMENT FOR TRAVELLERS IN INDIA. MARCHING from Datchapilly, and proceeding in a somewhat northerly direction, after going over a distance of about eight miles, the progress of the traveller is suddenly intercepted by the Kistna river, whose banks are exceedingly high and steep in the dry season, when the water is remarkably low, though it is not fordable in any one place without boats, which here are made of baskets, covered with thick, black, seasoned leather, and of a circular form. These ferries being of a large size, are capable of transporting not only luggage of every kind, but also palanquins, with their complement of bearers, and even carriages with their cattle. Owing to the peculiarity of their construction, they do not admit of being paddled in a strait-forward course, but go with a whirling motion, which not a little retards their progress, and is always very disagreeable. On the opposite banks of the Kistna, whose current, from the face of the surrounding country intersected with lofty mountains on every side, joined to the natural declivity and steepness of its banks, runs smoothly throughout the year, stands the village of Warrapilly, marking the boundary of the Nizam's dominions. I once passed close to the Kistna, in the worst period of the monsoon, when the rains poured down in torrents, filling up every creek and nullah, and swelling the Kistna almost to overflowing, while the wind roared with a fury approaching to a storm, and yet I do

not remember that this beautiful river was agitated in any extraordinary degree.

At Warrapilly, the traveller, for the first time, meets with a choultry, with which the extensive possessions of the Soubah of the Dekhan abound. These edifices exhi. bit no proud specimens of architectural elegance suited to European taste, as they are of the simplest and most ordinary construction, and built after the Mahomedan style. Their extreme length is from two to three hundred feet, and they are half that space in breadth. These serais consist of a vast number of little rooms adjoining one another, barely sufficient for the accommodation of a single person. The mosque stands facing the east, and was originally appropriated to religious purposes, though now all think themselves privileged to invade its quiet and The centre of these choultries sanctity.

feet in beauty trod.

ADELBERT.

and shrubs, probably consigned for the

use of cattle, and in some of them suitable apartments are appropriated for the exclusive convenience of native females. The lofty minarets of the mosques may 'be distinctly seen at the distance of two or three miles, and more if the country happen to be blessed with an open prospect: and at the time when these erections were originally finished, a faqueer had been attached to each, not only for the purpose of guarding the mosques from profanation, but also of keeping the buildings clean, and in proper order. This description of service was usually rewarded by the voluntary contribution of Mahomedan pilgrims, who only were suffered to enter these sacred edifices, in order to perform their morning and evening devotions; but now hardly a traveller arrives but he is sure to take possession of the very mosque itself, the walls of which are most shamefully disfigured with scraps of writing, both in prose and verse, in all languages; perhaps, left as lasting memorials of the gratitude of those who find shelter in them from the fatigues of peregrination, the scorching beams of a vertical sun, or the peltings of a furious storm.

It may not be irrelevant to mention here, that the serais or choultries in question were originally founded by Meer Allum, late Minister to his Highness the present Nizam of Hydrabad, from his own private means. These buildings are not composed of common brick and mortar, like the bungalows erected under the auspices of the Madras Government, but of materials as different in quality as the edifices themselves are different in style and construction. Meer Allum, who had the envied reputation of being considered an able minister and a shrewd politician, combined with the possession of unlimited power, exalted rank, and eminent station, all the milder and more cherished qualities of a generous and charitable disposition, a tender and confiding art, benevolent feelings, and great integrity of principle. A few years, therefore, prior to his demise, desirous of leaving to an admiring posterity the most durable monument of his munificence, as during his life his uprightness of conduct in the impartial administration of justice and universal benevolence of character, which his very name significantly denoted, had shed a bright lustre on his reputation, and diffused an unfading radiance around his earthly career, he felt anxious of perpetuating his fame by an act that would not only exalt his renown among his contemporaries while the vital spark continued to animate his corporeal frame, but, at the same time serve to immortalize his name in after ages. Accordingly, im

parting his designs to his brother courtiers, or those satellites which are ever to be found crowding round the favourite of fortune, emitting a feeble splendour for a transient hour, and then withdrawing their diminished rays before the brighter effulgence of a rising sun, like the ignited insect that, attracted by the brilliancy of a glowing taper, heedlessly flutters round its lambent flame, and is then annihilated for ever; he set about carrying his laudable scheme into immediate execution. It was necessary for him only to issue his mandates to be peremptorily obeyed. Proper architects having been, therefore, provided, and the requisite funds raised, they were soon dispersed over the whole of the Nizam's country, with the strictest orders to proceed with the work instanter. Large massy slabs cut out of the adjacent rocks were transported, at an immense expense, to the different sites where the edifices Í have above alluded to, were to be respectively erected in the manner described, no other material being employed on the occasion except chunam, for the internal and external coating of the choultries, which must have been completed at a vast labour and expense, and after the lapse of several years; no doubt presenting at the commencement a grand and magnificent appearance, contrasted with the desolate state of the country around. The spires of some of the mosques are of beautiful, carved work, whilst the gateways of a few, being rather lofty and roomy, afford additional accommodation to travellers. The rooms are extremely small and confined, having no wicket to prevent intrusion, and very much incrusted with a black soot, in consequence of native pilgrims being allowed to dress their victuals in them, and there being no vent for the egress of smoke; while the interior of the mosques exhibit frightful marks of ravages committed by the rude hands of heedless travellers, who, as a return for the kindly shelter they had received, have wantonly destroyed every vestige of the little elegance which these stately struc tures ever possessed, by idly indulging in that reprehensible propensity-the cacoethes scribendi.—Asiatic Journal.

A CATCH FROM THE GERMAN. PHILEMON to Miranda came With tongue in wrath, and eyes of flame, And loudly cried, "Restore My lamb, my lute, my kerchief rare; This hour we part--by Heaven I swear I'll never see thee more !"

"Tis well," she said-" but you forget
Some little gifts of yours, my pet:
To leave them out were sin;

I will restore you, one by one,
Ten thousand kisses--and that done,
You may walk off.---Begin."

LONDON BRIDGE. HAVING transcribed the following poetical paraphrase from "HowEL'S LONDINOPOLIS," printed in 1657, where the original Latin composition also is inserted, I beg to transmit it to you at a time when the erection of a New Bridge, is so prevailing a topic. It will, perhaps, surprise your readers, that London Bridge, which is now considered in the light of a nuisance, was in the 17th century reckoned among the wonders of the world. Nothing, indeed, can strongly mark the pre-eminent character this Bridge maintained at the time, than these commendatory lines :-and present curiosity may be gratified by Howel's quaint comment, contained in his Table of Contents, article 13, which is as follows:

more

"Of London Bridge, and her ad. mired structure; which, nevertheless, would see better, had she fewer eyes, and that her nineteen arches were reduced to nine."

Of London Bridg, and the stupendous site and

structure thereof.

When Neptune from his billows London spyde,
Brought proudly thither by a high spring-tyde;
As through a floating Wood he steer'd along
And dancing Castles cluster'd in a throng;
When he beheld a mighty Bridg give law
Unto his surges, and their fury awe;
When such a shelf of cataracts did roar,
As if the Thames with Nile had chang'd her

shoar:

When he such massy walls, such tow'rs did eye,
Such posts, such irons upon his back to lye;
When such vast arches he observed, that might
Nineteen Rialtos make for depth and height:
When the Cerulean God those things survay'd,
He shook his trident, and, astonish'd, said,
Let the whole earth now all her wonders
count,

This Bridg of Wonders is the paramount.'”

The following passages from Pennant, relative to the present Bridge, may possibly form an appropriate conclusion to this little account :

"By the year 1163, it grew (the original Bridge) so ruinous as to occasion its being rebuilt, under the care of one Peter, curate of St. Mary, Colechurch, a celebrated architect of those times. It was soon afterwards determined to build a Bridge of stone, and about the year 1176, the same Peter was employed again. It proved a work of thirty-three years :the architect died four years before it was completed; and another clergyman, Isenbert, master of the school of Xainctes, was recommended to the citizens by King John, for the honour of finishing it; but they rejected their prince's choice, and committed the work to three merchants of London, who completed it in 1209. Peter was buried in a beautiful chapel, probably of his own construction, dedicated to St. Thomas, which stood on the East side, in the ninth pier from the North

end, and had an entrance from the river, as well as the street, by a winding staircase. It was beautifully paved with black and white marble; and in the middle was a tomb, supposed to contain the remains of Peter the architect.

"This great work was founded on enormous piles, driven as closely as possible together. On their tops were laid long planks ten inches thick, strongly bolted; and on them were placed the base of the pier, the lowermost stones of which were bedded in pitch, to prevent the water from damaging the work: round all were the piles which are called the sterlings, designed for the preservation of the foundation piles. These contracted the space between the piers so greatly, as to occasion, at the retreat of every tide, a fall of five feet, or a number of temporary cataracts, which, since the foundation of the Bridge, have occasioned the loss of many thousand lives. The water at spring tides rises to the height this vast work is nine hundred and fifteen of about eighteen feet. The length of feet, the exact breadth of the river. The number of arches was nineteen, of unequal dimensions, and greatly deformed by the sterlings, and the houses, on each side, which overhung and leaned in a most terrific manner."

Mr. Pennant records other particulars and circumstances connected with the Bridge; the most striking of which are, that in

"One division of the Bridge there had been a draw-bridge, useful by way of defence, or for the admission of ships into the upper part of the river; which was defended by a strong tower."-" The top of this tower, in the sad and turbulent days of this kingdom, used to be the shambles of human flesh, and covered with the heads or quarters of unfortunate partizans. Even so late as the year 1598, Hentzner, the German traveller, counted on it above thirty heads. The old map of the city, in 1597, represents them in a most horrible cluster."

"At the South end of the Bridge, one Petey Corbis, a Dutchman, in the year 1582, invented an engine to force the water of the Thames into leaden pipes, to supply many of the adjacent parts of the city.'

Mr. Pennant proceeds:

"I must not quit the Bridge without noticing an unparalleled calamity, which happened on it four years after it was finished. A fire began on it at the Southwark end:-multitudes of people rushed out of London to extinguish it:— while they were engaged in this charitable design, the fire seized on the opposite