designed for their comfort. It is most affectionately dedicated to them, in the following manner :

.“ Saturday, June 9th, 1827. 6 My dear Parents,—I well know the solicitude you feel for me is great, and probably not a day will pass, for a long time, without your thinking of the voyage I am now accomplishing, with deep felt emotions. My brothers and sisters, and Christian friends, whom I have left behind, will also participate in the same feeling. Probably, could we enjoy any medium of communication, much of this anxiety might be relieved. This pleasure, however, we cannot now have; but, when the time for it does arrive, the long suspense, in which you have been held, will not diminish the satisfaction it will afford you, to learn the incidents that have occurred, together with such reflections as are suggested to my mind, and I may deem interesting to you. Whatever I can do to administer, in the least, to your gratification, most gladly would I perform. Let me, then, in the first place, assure you, that distance can never abate the strength of that filial affection which now glows in my breast, and breathes forth fervent supplications, as often as the hour of devotion

returns, that the richest blessings of providence and grace may be yours, and abound to your inward comfort, edification, and peace. O may your declining days be serene and heavenly, your death happy and . triumphant, and your eternity glorious.

“ On Monday evening we attended the monthly concert at Park Street, where we received our public instructions. The meeting was opened with singing the following hymn, the 500th of the Village Collection :

• Kindred, and friends, and native land,

How shall we say farewell ?
How, when our swelling sails expand,

How will our bosoms swell!
Yes, nature, all thy soft delights,

And tender ties, we know;
But love, more strong than death, unites

To him that bids us go.
Thus, when our every passion moved,

The gushing tear-drop starts,
The cause of Jesus, more beloved,

Shall glow within our hearts.
The sighs we breathe for precious souls,

Where he is yet unknown,
Might waft us to the distant poles,

Or to the burning zone.
With the warm wish our bosoms swell,

Our glowing powers expand;
Farewell—then we can say–farewell,

Our friends, our native land.'

At the close of the exercises, the 499th hymn was sung :

"Go, ye heralds of salvation,

Go, proclaim redeeming blood,”' &c. These strains will lung retain their impression on my heart, as well as ear. . “The next morning, we repaired to the vessel, attended by a large number of people, who thus expressed their interest in the cause of missions. Soon after our friends had left the vessel, she was loosed from the wharf, and fell off a little distance, while they stood to wave us a last adieu. She was soon anchored, for want of favorable winds, and lay till the next morning. A fine breeze then sprang up, which wafted us rapidly along, so that before night we could no longer discern land, but found ourselves surrounded by one vast expanse of water.

“ The impressions produced by so many recent farewells, and the idea of catching the last glimpse of features so long familiar to me, the last articulations of voices dear to me from childhood, as well as of those numerous, more remote friends, who manifested their sympathy and affectionate kindness in so many ways,-you will not doubt, were those of a pensive cast. It was, in

deed, painful to sever those tender ties that bind me to my friends and country, and often did I struggle to repress the starting tear. Yet the sacrifice was one my heart approved, and I was usually enabled to preserve a calm composure.

Saturday evening.–We have thus far enjoyed good health, and are now four or five hundred miles from Boston.

6 With regard to sea-sickness, Mr. Allen and myself have been remarkably favored. We have not wholly escaped, yet we have not lost more than two or three meals, nor thrown up our food but few times, though we have taken the precaution to live lightly. The captain calls me the best sailor, in this respect, for a fresh one, he had ever seen.

66 We feel much cause of gratitude, that our heavenly Parent is dealing so gently with us in this instance. For all his mercies may we never want a heart to be thankful; in his service, may we ever find our happiness, our joy, our life.

« 10th, Sab.—My dear Christian friends, my sanctuary and its beloved privileges have been much on my mind this day. We have advanced so far east, that our time is now about one hour forward of yours. · I suppose we had prayers in the church, according to our request; and, just, at the

season for it, we were experiencing a tempest of wind and rain, attended with thunder. The ship rode majestically through the waves in this storm, at the rate of ten miles an hour. I have yet felt no fearjust as much composure as if on land. We have had no religious, public exercises. It has scarce appeared like Sabbath. How ought Christians to value their sanctuary privileges ! Together, we enjoy these seasons no more on earth; but in heaven, we hope to unite in keeping an eternal Sabbath.

ás 12th.—Yesterday we had what appeared to us a heavy gale, though the captain called it no more than a pleasant breeze. The scene was truly grand and sublime. The vessel rolled from side to side, so that we could neither stand nor sit without be ing braced. But our minds were tranquil. Toward evening, we discovered a bow set in the cloud, the token of promised blessings.

“16th.--For three or four days, we have been becalmed, and made little progress. We would rather experience those gales which would wast us toward our destined port; but our way is directed by Him who knows what is best, and we would feel no solicitude.

6 17th, Sab.-The hours of sacred rest

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