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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.