Newspaper Page Text
No. 50 Vol. 11.
FROM THE 9. EVANGELICAL INTELLIGENCER.
THE ORPHAN—A FACT.
It was on a pleasant summer’s eve, that
the Pastor of one of our New-England villa
ges 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 suc
cessful labourer in the cause of his Master,
till hisJiead had become silvered, and his
tottering tenement needed the support of a
staff. The sun had already sunk in the
wet, and was pouring his last rays into the
golden sky, as the Pastor entered the village
grave yard. There is something in this
hour of the day, that gives a pleasing mel
ancholy to the soul—which, added to the
place in which he was walking, was pecu
liarly adapted to assist the holy man in his
meditations; and, if need lie, to raise his
thoughts from this world, and to place them
on that which he felt was his home. The
good man was pressing bdneath 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 dis
tance, beheld a lovely little white-headed
hoy, who was kneeling and sobbing over
the grave of his father, whose ashes had
lately been deposited beneath. With a mel
ting heart the good shepherd approached
the child of his friend, and, with the tender
ness of an angel, he raiscdwnd kissed this
orphan lamb of his fleck, whose face was
pallid through grief, end whose 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 he mv father—
-1 fear that I have offended him, that he will
no more be my father, and 1 want him to
forgive me, and ki-s me as lie used to do !
Oh! if he would once more be mv father, 1
would never again offend him. But they say
he is dead ; O, I would sit hpre and cry all
night—l would never stop if my poor father
wouid come to me! But he will not come
—for, a few days before they put him in
this bole, he told me—O, 1 do remember it
—he.toid me he was going to leave me,
and 1 =honld never have a father any more ;
and he stroked my hair with his sick hand,
and be told me tyben he was buried in the
ground, that 1 must be a good hoy and lave
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 tears the
silken hair ofltlie orphan. His first object
was to soothe him into confidence, and then
to direct him to a Father who would never
forsake hirri. With patience h satisfied his
curiosity respecting death —how that is a
long sleep, but that the voice ofGoifvvill
one day awake even the dead. He told
him how death was introduced into the
world, and made him understand that it was
(he consequence of sin. He explained to
him the natural depravity of the heart—
bow we, “ like sheopj have all gone astray.”
He laboured to impress upon him a correct
view of the character of God—hi attributes
eif love, mercy, justice, Sec.; and then ex
plained how we might be saved by Jesus
Chris!. He next strove deeply to impress
upon the listening 1 bov what i “the chief
end of man and thus concluded, while
his hearer seemed to hang upon his lip°:—
“ And now, mv dear little bo*, vou havo in
deed lost a tender father; hut I have been
trying s o point you to a Father, who has
promised nevor to fo-sakethe poor orphan.”
“ But,” says the child, “ what is it to he an
orphan?”
“ It is to he left destitute of parents while
xve are yet children.”
“ I think I understand ; but what is a poor
orphan ?”
The Clergvman was affected, but replied,
“ It is a child who is left destitute of proper
ty as well as friends.”
“ O. 1 wish,” said the child, in the sim
plicity of his heart, “ I wish that I was a
poor orphan, if God would be mv father.”
Tim Good Minister wept—for he knew
that the child’s wish respecting property
would he fully satisfied—“ I trust, my dear
child, that God will be vour 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 de
vote our lives to God, that we may meet
death with peace. I hope you will not on
lv be good, and 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 affor
ded by the bright twinkling of the stars.
As they left the grave yard, the shepherd
directed the attention of his lamb to these
“wonderful works of God, and his heart heat
•with joy ivhe.u he exclaimed —
THE MISSIONARY.
GO YE LYTO ALL THE WORLD, AND PREACH TIE GOSPEL TO EVERY CREATURE.-Jzevs Christ.
“ My Father made them all.'’
He led the orphan to his place of resi
dence—soothed his grief—assuaged his
sorrows—and determined to adopt and
make him his child. Hut God had other
wise 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
“ Privileg'd above the common walks of virtu
ous life
his spirit, as we trust, flew from the snares,
the corruptions, and (be sins of this transi
tory world, and found a shelter in the bo
som of his Redeemer—-and left the child a
second time an drphan.
At the death of the Clergyman, the little
bov was thrown upon the wide world with
but few friends:—his patron was dead, and
he was forgotten. Many who saw, felt com
passion for him. They saw sorrow often
brooding over his countenance, and the big
tear often gush from his eyes: (hey saw
and pitied— w hoped he would be provided
for”—and left him as they-found him. But
it should be # a matter of consolation to dying
parents, that there is One who heareth
even “ the y'oung 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, lie was
placed in many different situations—passed
through many trials, hut was ever protec
ted ihrough the tender mercy of God. At
the age of sixteen, it is believed he experi
enced 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 dedica
ted 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 he known as a
Missionary of the Cross in some heathen
land, where he has determined to spend his
•lays. PEREGRINUS;
FROM THE “ LATTER DAT LC-HINART.”
INSTANCES OF THE POWER OF SU
PERSTITION ON THE NATIVES
OF INDIA.
We insert the following anecdotes, uni
versally received as facts among the na
tives around us, as they tend in some de
gree to show the influence of superstition
ori the habits and feelings of the Hindoos.
About ninety years ago there lived io
the province of Bengal, two bramhuns, an
uncle and a nephew, so notorious for the
practice of every species of fraud, that
their names continue even to this day to
be used -proverbially in many parts of the
country to denote a fraudulent combination.
The name of the uncle was Shree Gooroo,
and that of the nephew, Gope-huv. They
generally acted in concert, and filled their
own coffers by practising or. the supersti
tious credulity of their fellow-countrymen.
The two following anecdotes we univers
ally reported as fm.t* by (he naiIVCS.
Having on one occasion determined to
defraud a rich fnmi!.. the unde, to accom
plish a pitta settled between them, offered
the nephew for sale at one hundred rupees,
and having received the money, departed
home. The nephew, a man of graceful
person and pleasing address, quickly ob
tained the confidence of the family, apd
being a bramhun, was employed to cook
for the household, and to gather flowers
for the daily service of the domestick idol.
He continued to perform the duties of his
office to the satisfaction of his employers,
till the nature of his situation had become
sufficiently publick ; when he began to re
alize the plan of deceit which had induced
the uncle to sell him for a slave. In col
lecting flowers every morning in the garden
attached to the house, he pretended to in
voke the name of “Allah,” whenever he
perceived any of (he family sufficiently near
him, and to perform those rites by which a
Mahomedan is distinguished from a Hindoo.
This alteration in his behaviour filled the
members of the family with consternation j
but before they proceeded to interrogate
him, they determined to watch him more
narrowly. Their observations only tend
ing to confirm their fears, they proceeded
to call family council to deliberate on
the best means of deliverance from so great
a calamity. If it should be noised abroad
that a Mussulman h id been introduced into
the family, had violated the sanctity of the
image by performing the religious ceremo
nies before it. and had actually prepared
the food the family had partaken of, their
reputation would be inevitably lost, —and
the family would be degraded from the cast.
They therefore, called the youth before
them, and entreated him to declare whether
he was a Mussulman or not. “ A Mussul
man 1” said he, putting his hands to his
ears, “ I swear by the great Allah that I arn
a true Hindoo.”—The family struck with
dismay, told him that he was a Mahomedan,
and that he must quit their service ; and
fifty rupees to refrain from
noising the affair in the neighbourhood.
The youth perceiving his advantage, said
he would proclaim their disgrace through
out the country. They theil offered him
double that sum; tvbich he refused, repeat-
MOUNT ZION, (HANCOCK CO. GA.) FRIDAY, MAY 11, 1821.
ing his threats. Distracted with the pros
pect of utter ruin which hung over them,
they increased their gratuity in proportion
to his obstinacy, till the youth consented
tor the sum of two hundred rupees, to leave
their house and that part of the country id
silence.
’l’he Dext imposition was of a more dar
ing description, and required ajl the address
of which they were mters. | A petty Ra
jah, whose dominions lay near Ramghur,
was universally celebrated for his great
faith in bramhuns, the austerity of his reli
gious devotion, and his mutificence to de
votees and mendicants. Hiving laid apian
lor taking advaiitage of tlifir favourite pas
sion, they permitted their nails, hair, and
beard to grow to a considerable length,
intending that the uncle should personate
an ascetick of the Treta yooga, and the
nephew, his disciple. Every thing pre
pared, the uncle concealed himself in a lit
tle cave formed within a mound of earth,
and choked up the entrance with branch
es of trees. The nephew carried him a
daily supply of fitnd; and, in a short time,
presenting himsef at the court of the Ra
jah, with his heal’d hanging down to his
girdle, said, “ O ting, my religious guide,
who commenced the performation of aus
terities in the Treta yooga, about the time
when Rama, the great king of Uyodhya,
was on his expedition to LnnkaJCeylon,)
for the recovery of Sheeta, hdHLhot yes r
awaked from his meditations—Trie earth
must have collected over him and covered
him ; perhaps he is jconcealed beneath
some hillock.* Grant me therefore the
.id of your subjects, that I may endeavour
to discover the place of nts retreat, and
pay him the honour due to so venerable a
character.”
The king was struck with this relation,
and turning round to his courtiers said,
“This is truly astonishing. Surely my
good fortune is great, inasmuch as so holy
a being exists in our dominions. We must
make instant search for him.” Having
determineijto commence the search in per
son, and to leave no part of the country
unexplored, he ordered the attendance of a
sufficient number of workmen, and pro
ceeded to dig about every little hillock
am l mound in his way. The nephew, who
directed their operations, contrived to keep
them employed for a whole month at a dis
tance from Iheftrue spot, though he made
daily advances towards it. On the day as
signed between them for the discovery, for
which the tncle had been prepared, the
nephew led the workmen to the hillock,
Where, after some exertion, they opened
the cave and discovered the pretended as
cetick, sitting cross-legged, immoveable,
with his eyes closed as if in profound'medi
tation. The joy of (be credulous monarch
can better he conceived than described.
He approached him with the most humble
reverence, bowiiij his head respectfully to
the earth. The devotee, pretending to
awake suddenly | from his sleep of ages,
looked around on the multitude with con
tempt, while the nephew having made his
obeisance, proceeded to inform him that
the Rajah of the country was come to see
him.
The ascetick without so mochas notic
ing the intimation, inquired in Sungskrita
whether Rama hijd found Sheeta? “Yps,
replied the nephtw, he overcame the cel
ebrated Ravuna, and recovered his wife.
But this, O Goomo! is an ancient tale ;
during your auste-ities the Treta and Dwa
pur yoogas have jassed away, nmi vc a,,
now in the Kulee ‘ooga.” “ Has the Ku
lee yooga then conmenced?” replied the
ascetick with jretended astonishment.
“ When I began ft perform religious aus
terities, we enjoyld the Treta yooga, in
which men had alifeady begun to degener
ate from the purit/ of the first age. I nev
er dreamt of tousling the Kulee yooga,
represented by t>e shastras as abounding
in vice. I will not live in this age. I will
renounce the world, and retire to Knshee
(Benares) where the influence nfthe Kulee
yooga is not felt.” The king being made
acquainted with his resolution, expressed
the greatest concern, and begged the ne
phew to intercede with his gooroo to hon
our his dominions at least with a tempora
ry residence, representing how fortunate
an event it would he for his subjects to have
among them a man endowed with such sin
gular and extraordinary merit. The uncle
utterly refused to comply with his entrea
ties, saying it was impossible for a devotee
ojM* Treta yooga to live in the Kulee
yfcga, among such sinners as the shastras
had described. He then asked whether
the goddess Gonga yet existed on earth ;
and being informed that she did, requested
to see some of the water of the sacred
stream When it was brought him, he,
looking on it with apparent contempt, ex
claimed, “ Is this the water of the Ganges 1
—yet why should it not be so ? Every
thing is deteriorated in this last and most
wicked age. This,” said he, “ was the col
our of the Goddess in the second age of the
world,” pointing to the milk with which
his nephew had supplied him in the morn
ing. The veneration of the king increased
* This the Uamayuna declares to have been
the case with the sage Valmiki ; from this cir
cumstance he derive* his name, Vuln\\ signifying
an ant-bill-
on hearing the discourse Os the ascetick,
and at length falling at his feet, he exclaim
ed, “How unfortunate a wretch am I to
be deprived by the sins of former births
of the company of so sacred a being, the
coteroporary of the incarnate Vishnoo, and
of the holy sages, at a moment when 1
thought my good fortune had risen to the
highest. If you are determined to depart,
at least condescend to receive some gift
at our hands. Os this merit you must not
deprive us.” The nephew now joined
the monarch in his entreaties, reminding
tne ascetick that he was in the dominions of
the Rajah,—that the sha3tras had directed
that a tenth of every thing should belong
to the rajah ; a tenth of the fruits of the
earth, and a tenth of the fruit of devotion ;
and that he would act in direct violation of
the shastras if he did not impart to the ra
jah a portion of the merit he had acquired
by accepting some gift of him. The asce
tick appearing to he swayed by these aigu
ments, lifted up one of his fingers, which
the nephew explained to the rajah to signi
fy that he would condescend to receive but
one rupee of him. A rupee was instantly
brought, which the rajah presented in per
son with his hands joined together. The
ascetick receiving it, with a look of sover
eign contempt, exclaimed, “ Is this a rupee
of the Kulee yooga ? What ivas reckoned a
rupee in the Treta yooga, was equal to ten
thousand of these but this is the last age,
and the shastras are correct in their pre
dictions.” The king considering himself
bound to fulfil the wish of the devotee, or
dered ten thousand rupees to be counted
down to him : and having on his knees re
ceived his benediction, departed Home
wards with his court; and the two impos
tors, pretending to take their way to Bena
res, went home laden with the wealth they
had acquired.
These anecdotes, although they are so
well known among the natives around,
among whom, indeed numerous facts of this
kind are kept in remembrance, do not in
aoy degree abate their confidence in the
system of idolatry and superstition, which
serves a perpetual covert for deceptions of
this nature. It is the property of light,
however, to make manifest, and especially
of the light of Revelation ; and even those
faint rays which have already shone ob
liquely upon them from the Sacred Scrip
tures, in the course cf twenty years, not
withstanding their repugnance to come to
the light, have somewhat altered their
ideas of their own system, and abated their
veneration for things which they them
selves can scarcely relate to a European,
without anticipating and almost approving,
the just contempt they are calculated to
draw from a mind enlightened and humane.
EXTRAORDINARY RECENTCONVER
SIONOFA BRAMHUN IN BENGAL.
Dr. Carey, in one of his last letters to
Mr. Ward, mentions the following case.
The Hindoo asceticks, it is well known,
adopt a system °f oweteritiee known by (be
name of jogue , which are intended to pro
duce as great a separation as possible be
tween the incarcerated spirit and matter, so
as to prepare the spirit,which consider
as an individuated portion of the deijgh, for
the final renunciation of its connexion with
matter. One class of these
known by the name ofper
distinguish of the order
Pawnees, an d who had kept this vow of
silence for four years, while residing at the
famous temple of the goddess ka.ee, near
Calcutta, has recently become the subject
of Christian conversion. This man, by Ins
dress, (he wore several necklaces made ol
the bones of snakes,) his rank as a heamhun,
his vow of silence, and the sanctity of his
appearance, commanded the homage ot
the Hindoos to such a degree, that he was
worshipped as a god. When he passed
through the streets of Calcutta, says Dr.
Carey, the rich Hindoos hastened down
from the roofs of their houses, and threw
themselves in a state of prostration in the
dirt at his feet. In those circumstances,—
a man of the highest order in his country,
secluded from all human society, in one of
the most famous temples of India, and wor
shipped as a god, —who would have ex
pected that such a man would have been
brought into the Christian church . If it
might have been concluded that any man in
India was out of the reach of the Christian
missionary, and of Christian means, this
surely would have been the man ; for, to
the privacy and sacred nature of his retreat,
to the elevation of his rank, and to the rev
erence in which he was held as an object
es adoration, must he added the amazing
obstacles to conversion in the gross fanati
cism and the immeasurable pride of such a
being. And yet a Christian tract, in the
Bengalee language, somehow or other
found its way into the hands of this man,
who might be said to have taken up his
abode beyond the limits of onr earth ; and
he had no sooner read this tract, than hy it
his lips were opened, and “ the tongue of
the dumb began to sing.” He left the
temple and ha(ened to Calcutta, to seek
further Christian instruction ; and in a suc
ceeding letter to Mr. Ward, Dr. Carey, af
ter declaring his conviction that this man
Pr>rr 5 $ 3 : 50 pr- aim. or, >
’ l $3,00 iD advance. \
had become a true believer in onr Lord
Jesus Christ, adds, on such a day “ I expect
to baptize the brarnhun who had made a vow
of perpetual silence.” May we not hope
that this man will possess talents for the
Christian ministry, and that we shall soon
hear that he is pursuing his studies in the
Missionary College at Serampore 0 How
powerful must be the testimony of such a
convert, descended from ihe seat of the
gods, and become an humble and self-deny
ingfollovver of oui Lord Jesns Christ, or,
as jt would sound in Bengalee, “ amardara
Prubhoo Yeesoo Khreest.”
— •**ozo:3.i:ozo'-
BURNING OF WIDOWS.
In the detailed statements which were
lent to me by J. H. Harington, Esq. late
supreme judge of the supreme native court,
at Calcutta, the number of Suttees,* or
Hindoo widows burnt or buried alive with
their dead husbands, in the several zillahs
or cities, during the year 1817, amounted to
70G. The cases are particularly enumer
ated, and remarks made upon them. From
these remarks the following are selected
from (he case* which occurred in the years
1815 and 1816.
1815.—“ 1. In the zillah of. Hoogh'y,
Ram Preeah, aged 45, did not ascend the
funeral pile of her deceased husband, who
died at the house of his daughter, and was
burnt in another village ; the suttee being
of the Bramin cast, she burnt contrary to
the shasters.”
“ 2. In the Calcutta division, during this
year, two women have, agreeably to their
own free-will and consent, been saved from
destruction : the intention of the one be
ing to bury herself with the body of her
deceased husband, the othpr to cause her
own death, hy performing the ceremony
ol suttee. Os the two women above men
tioned, the determination of one, named
Puddah, the wife of Goranautb, was chang
ed from motives of compassion for her
child, a female 10 years of ago, who at the
time of final parting from her parent, when
the latter was on the eve of submitting to
, undergo the ceremony of being burnt alive
with her deceased husband, set up the most
bitter lamentations, which eventually had
the effect of inducing the parent, for the
sake of the child, to forpgo the resolution
which she had previously taken, of sacri
ficing herself after the manner above tier
scribed. The other woman herein ailud
-1 ed to, named Raurjisstsuee, wife of An
unduram, without any ostensible motive,
unless it might he inferred that she was
suddenly overcome with fear, changed her
determination of burning herself with her
deceased husband, just at the time she was
quitting her house for that purpose.”
“ 3. It appears from the Report o( the
11th March, that Dhoopa, the wife of Chee
looa, ascended the fntieral pile with an in
tention of becoming a suttee, but on expe
riencing the effects of the flames, had not
sufficient resolution to sacrifice herself.
On being somewhat scorched by th- fire,
-hr quitted (ho pito, went to her habitation,
and after an interval of nine davs, died
from (he burning sho had partially under
gone.”
“ 4. Melkey, in the city of Bucdrlkiind,
burnt herself with the shoe of her deceased
husband four days after his death, not hav
the resolution of
cease.”
“5. The wife of Ramjevuun, deceased,
mounted the pile to be burnt with the
corpse of her husband, but on the flames
reaching her, she fled. She was slightly
blistered, but received no material injury.”
“6 In the zillah of Monradabad, the ju
madar of the t’hannah, together with the
zemindars of the village, endeavoured to
persuade the wife of Rbickaree not to im
molate herself, but without effect. She
had the perfect use of her senses, and no
force or even persuasion was used; her
only children, Lawa and Dulloo, two sons,
aged 20 and 15 years, were present.
Bhickaree, the husband, died 13 yeais
prior to the occurrence.”
1816—“ 1. In the zillah of Cuttack, on
the sth of November, two women were
burnt with the bodies of their deceased hus
bands ; the magistrates attended the burn
ing, and at the time endeavoured to per
suade the women to desist, hut no argu
ment would prevent them offering them
selves uji as a sacrifice.”
“ 2. During this year, one woman, Mu
hamayah, the wife of Hurrydoss, voluntari
ly saved herself from destruction, by de
parting from her resolution which she had
previously taken, of burning with her de
ceased husband. This change in her de
termination appeared to proceed from mo
tives of compassion for her only child, a
female aged five years.
“3. Kalee, on the death of her husband,
voluntarily determined to sacrifice herself
on hi* funeral pile; her relations accompa
nied her thither ; she placed herself on
the pile, hut as there was not a sufficient
quantity of w ood, she was only partially
burnt ; she vvas then taken from the pile
and conveyed home, where in a few hours
she expired; her corpse was afterwards
consumed on the same pile.”
* From utyu, true; importing that a widow
by thus devoting herself proves that she was jt
faithful wife.
