Newspaper Page Text
No. 31. Vo,. IV.
SIMON GRAY.
The following picture, from Lights and Shad
ows of Scottish Life,” is an admirable illustration
of the uncertainty of human affairs, and is touch
ed with great truth: Ont. Rep.
No man’s life seemed to promise a calm
er course and more serene close than that
of the Rev, Simon Gray. He had for many
s ears possessed the entire affection and re
spect of all the inhabitants of his parish.
A few words from him calmed angry blood,
settled quarrels, and allayed animosity. In
bis kirk, in his manse, in his neighbour’s
house, and by the way-side, he was, in good
truth, the minister of peace.—His wife
was, in all things, after his own heart; and
two sons and one daughter, just reaching
rnan and woman’s estate had scarcely ever
given their parents distress, and seemed
destined for a life of respectability and hap
piness. But it is with-the humble as with
ihe high in this world; their possessions
are equally insecure; and the same lesson
r ay be learht from the life of the lowest
I easant, as from that of the loftiest king.
Tram the cottage and from the palace, the
satne warning voice h heard to say, “ call
lio man bappy before be dies.”
Simon Gray’s eldest son, a youth of distin
guished talents, and even more tenderly
beloved than admired by all who knew
kirn.; was drowned in a moreland loch in his
Jet her’# parish, one warm summer evening,
when his parents were sitting at no great
distance in a hollow among the hills.
They heard his’cries, but could do nothing
to save him, when, rushing to the waters’
weedy and rushy edge, they saw him sink
ing in miserable entanglement among the
long strong roots of the water lily.—Of
Ihe shocks their hearts and whole being
then got, nothing need be said; but from
that evening, well as they were both
thought to support it, every one in the par
ish felt that they never were the same peo
ple as before, and that the minister and his
wife looked to each other when in compa
ny, with fearful eyes, as if an accidental
•word or allusion had awakened in their
hearts a remembrance too tender or too
terrible. Michael would have been, had
he lived, his father’s successor; and some
thought that the manse never looked exact
ly like itself since that fatal event.
But this was but the beginning of Simon’s
sorrows. His other son was a clerk in a
Commercial house in the neighbouring city,
and in the unreserved confidence of his
employers.—Regularly every Saturday did
he walk out to the manse—stay over the
Sabbath —and next morning before break
fast appear at his desk.—But one dark and
stormy winter evening, in the middle of the
week, he unexpectedly entered his father’s
study, and flinging himself down upon his
linees, declared that he was a ruined and
lost man —that be had formed a guilty con
nexion with a woman who had led him on
to his destruction —and that he had embez
zled his benefactor's money—done worse—
forced hi* name, and that unless he could
make his escape, he must expiate bis crime
on the scaffold.
Simon Gray lifted up his son from his
knees and folded him to his heart. “My
poor wretched boy ! thy life is in jeopardy I
Dh! that I knew how to save my son!
; tff hen —Stephen —what would signify
the breaking of my heart if thou wast but
safe! SpeaJ^not—my sweet boy—of thy
< rime®, great as they are, I am thy father,
r,nd can think but of thy death and life.—
Fly, Stephen, and lake with thee thy fa
ther’s blessing. Perhaps all thy money is
gone—l will give thee enough to pursue
hy journey —and so alo may I be able to
repay all thou hast embezzled. 0! Ste
phen —Stephen—my beloved boy, who has
so often sat in thine innocence on my knees,
and whom so often I have put to bed after
tbv prayers, has it indeed come to this 1”
And father and son knelt down together and
prayed to their God.—lt was a black stormy
Dight, and Stephen went away without see
ing his mother or his sister.—Me went
away—but he never returned. He made
his escape to America, and died in a few
weeks after his arrival, of the yellow fever.
The miserable father knew not how to
’ break the matter to his wife and daughter.
They saw his affliction, and he told them
that he feared that Stephen was a profli
gate. But next night the outer door open
ed loudly, and two officers of justice enter
ed the manse. Now all concealment was
at an end ; and the next day it was known
not only to the inmates of the manse, but to
all the inhabitants of the parish,that Stephen
Gray was a criminal, and had fled to a for
eign land.
Over the grave of the eldest son his pa
rent® could shed tears of resigned sadness ;
hut for him who died untended beyond
the sea, their grief was bitter and inconsola
ble. No one ever uttered Stephen’s name,
although there was not a house in the whole
parish, where his cheerful laugh had not
been welcome. 11l as he had behaved, dis
honestly and vilely, affection for his memo
ry was in every heart. Eut a grave look
or a sigh was all in which any one could
show this sorrow and sympathy now; and
|he Minister of Seatoun understood the si
lence of his parishioners, for his dead son
had been a felon—aye, Stephen, the gay,
, witty, fearless,and affectionate Stephen, had
been a feloD- He had written a letter to
nr -mr m, ‘ ‘ sjr* ;
the missionary.
r ———— ■! , —. y, , , ■ ( ■-..-C ‘ 1 ~ *■<
his father on his death-bed—a few words—
but they-wepe impressed forever on his fa
ther's soul, and often did he repeat them
in his sleep, as the tears forced their way
through his closed eyelids and drenched his
heaving breast.
The terror that struck into the heart of
his sister by the sudden bursting in of the
officers of justice into the manse, in some
degree affected her intellects; her memory
from that time was impaired, and after her
brother’s death in America hud been com
municated to her, she frequently forgot it,
and weeping, implored to know if he had
not lately written home. “He must be
dead, or he would have written;” and she
kept walking about the house, from one
room to another, repeating these words
with a wailing voice, and sorely wringing
her hands. Tiiat could not last long;
without any disease she lay down on her
bed, and never more rose.—She was buried
by the side of her brother Michael—and
now Sirpon Gray was childless.
From the Richmond, (Va.) Evangelical Magazine.
INFLUENCE OF MISSIONS.
The history of mankind is little else than
a record of revolutions. In every stage of
civil society, from its first rude outlines,
when the law? which hound it together ex
pired with the emergency which produced
them, to its present state of comparative
perfection, we may trace in it the seeds of
turmoil, discord and dissolution. Ar one
time, we behold the wild haunts of the sav
age becoming the happy residence of civil
ization and refinement; at another, those
places where once existed all that can beau
tify and exalt human nature, are blighted
as by the curse of heaven, and become the
habitation of owls. We have seen a Troy,
a Thebes and a Babylon arise from the ob
scurity of rustick villas to the climax of
magnificence and splendour, then vanish
like the visionary rastles of enchantment
and leave no monument to mark the places
where they stooff. By the combined wis
dom and policy of gages, extensive govern
ments have been for aed, which have either
sunk under their niv. weight or have be
come the prey of infernal faction or foreign
usurpation. The *word of extermination
has followed the sword of conquest, till
earib has been deluged with the blood of
her children.
The arts have been alternately invented,
cultivated and lost. Ages of research have
contributed to the advancement of litera
ture and science, and the tire of Omar and
the deluge of Deucalion have swept from
the world the volumes of wisdom and the
work? of taste. Even the sacred name of
religion has beets prostituted to sancti< n
tyranny and to varnish crimes; and the
crescent and the cross have vied with each
other in rapine, chicanery and bloodshed.
The fire of persecution has been the ordeal
of Christian orthodoxy, and the blood of
martyrs, the baptismal element of honour’s
votaries. Human ingenuity ha? been ex
hausted in inventing engines of human tor
ture, and even infernal cruelty might blush
at the outrages which man has committed
on his fellow man.
Such is the melancholy picture which the
world presents when reflected from the
faithful pages of history. The mind sick
ens at the view, and seeks relief from such
a heterogeneous exhibition of human mise
ry. Philanthropy laments the ineffectual
schemes and disappointed hopes of mortals
in the pursuit of happiness, and looks for
ward w ith a parental solicitude lo the estab
lishment of some plan which shall recognize
the rights and secure Ihe interests of all—
Some mighty scheme whose pohev shall
embrace mankind, and whose common in
terest shall consolidate in one, all the na
tions of the earth. The cause of missions
exhibits that plan as extensive in its object,
as liberal in its principles, and as glorious in
its tendency as the most enlarged philan
thropy could desire. Let no man presume
to say that it too, in common with all hu
man institutions, bears within itself the
seeds of dissolution ; and thence predict its
downfall. It owns no analogy to the inven
tions of men. In vain for its origin do we
search the cabinets ol kings. Its genius is
divine—its motto was sung by a celestial
choir—lts charter was delivered by the
incarnate God! Like the snn, it attracts to
wards itself every dissenting creed, and by
a common vinculum, binds together every
jarring interest. Like him, too, the bless
ings which it imparts are impartial and un
bounded. Its genial rays penetrate the
darkest regions of the earth, illuminating
and warming all within the sphere of its in
fluence. Already have they extended from
the snows of Greenland to the burning
zone, and from the wilds of Hindostan to
the Isles of the Western ocean. Its in
fluence is resistless as the bolt of heaven.
The idol and his temple fall prostrate at its
approach—The sound of its jubilee trump
et salutes (be ears of the iron-bound prison
er, and his shackles fall. It proclaims “on
earth peace and good will towards men,”
and the clarion of war is hushed, and the
rude din of battle subsides in the mild ac
cents of peace. Civilization attends its
foot-steps—Literature and science are its
band-maids. Under its fostering hand, the
wilderness, lately hung with the trophies of
MOUNT ZION, (HANCOCK COUNTY, GEORGIA,) MONDAY, JANUARY 13, 182%.
- ■■■ —i , 7
GO YK INTO ALL THE WORLD AND THI GOSPEL TO EVERY CREATURE.
savage warfare, is now adorned with (he
temples of science, and the Indian whose
bosom lately glowed with rapture at the
sound of the war-whoop ; t the writhing? of
his victim, now delights in the endearing re
lation of the domestick circle, and conse
crates his fireside to the praises of God.
Though in its beginning, small as the mus
tard seed that was sown, it has already shot
forth its branches to the four quarters of
the globe and blessed the inhabitants of!
both continents with its shelter and its fruit.
Guided by unerring wisdom, arid aided by
the strength of Omnipotence, it has com
menced its progress towards universal em
pire, and the order of its march is—onward.
Should any 9uspect that we are ranging
on fairy ground and rearing a fahrick which
can exist only in imagination, an appeal to
fact 9 may convince them that the half was
not told them, and that language itself can
but faintly reflect the glory of sn institution
whose object is a universal diffusion of
learning, religion and happiness 1 Although
the primary object of missions is to extend
a knowledge of that religion vhich brings
life and immortality to light find ensures
eternal happiness to man, yet subsidiary to
this, is a dissemination of that moral culture
and mental improvement which i9 necessary
to raise man to the grade for vhich his na
ture was designed. Learning and religion
are united in the promotion of this grand
object, and we may venture tb affirm that
no one, who patronizes missions with liber
al and extensive views, would attempt a
separation.
The history of the world since the Refor
mation of the 16th century will prove them
to have been mutual coadjutors and to have
united their influence to civilize the world
and bless mankind. As learning had lent
her aid to break the chains ia which
religion herself was bound, so reli
gion in turn gave new energy and lustre to
learning. Ancient literature awoke from
her slumbers. Science pushed her re
searches—-Copernicus rose with Luther,
and followed the track of the heavenly bod
ies—Newton succeeded them and investi
gated the laws ol nature; and Locke, pur
suing in the train, analyzed the human
mind.
The extension of literature is not merely
an accidental circumstance sometimes at
tendant on missions, but js an insep arable
concomitant, and an indispensable constitu
ent to ensure their success. The history
of missions will show, that their first care is
to lay the foundation for the future prog
ress of learning, by reducing ton written
language the unintelligible jargon of barba
rous dialects, and thus giving a clue to (lie
successful prosecution of literature and phi
losophical inquiry. The success of mission
aries in this intricate and arduous underta
king, is unparalleled in the annals of litera
ture, and equalled only by the magnitude of
their object, and the vigorous and indefati
gable exertions which they employ for its
accomplishment. In addition to the numer
ous translations now extant, in the various
languages of the East, no less than 33 ori
ental versions of the sacred scriptures are
at this time in a progressive state of publi
cation at Serampore. Now, as at the day of
Pentecost, the Bengalee, Chinese, Tamul,
Cingalese, Hindoo and numerous other pa
gan tribes, in their own tongue may read as
well as hear the wonderful works’ of God.
Y hus united in their object! and thus power
ful in their operation, what may we not ex
pect from the combined influence of litera
ture and religion ? The heaven-born sisters,
advancing hand in hand, dissipate in their
progress the impenetrable veil, which for
ages has.enveloped three fourths of the hu
man race in all the horrour9 of pagan night,
Where men have long groaned under the
galling chains of ecclesiastical despotism and
yielded an implicit obedience to the degra
ding mandates of a venal priesthood, they
dissolve the refrigerating spells of papal su
perstition, opeo the treasures of literature,
burst the leading strings of science, and ri
sing with the energy of truth and the pow
er of divine grace, establish forever the
right of free inquiry. Where darkness cov
ers the land and gross darkness th people
—where the human mind is hackneyed in
the endless routine of idolatry’s demoraliz
ing rites, and formed from its infancy to a
perfect model of all that is vitiating in taste
or degrading in principle, they raise it from
the nethermost abyss of moral degradation,
rekindle its intellectual fires, which the rub
bish of more than brutish ignorance had al
most extinguished, restore to reason her ab
dicated throne, and re-enstamp on the soul
the image of the Deity. Thus emancipat
ed from the thraldom of ignorance, super
stition and vice, man resumes his proper
grade in the scale of beings. He finds him
self capable of more exalted enjoyments
than the gratification of sense can afford,
and with a laudable avidity, (races the va
rious streams of intellectual pleasure. In
the succession of causes and effects, he sees
a unity of design, and instead of referring
them to the casual operations of chance or
the conflicting interest# of inferiour deities,
he acknowledges the hand of an over-rul
ing Providence. Wijh a satisfaction before
unknown, he looks abroad upon the works
of nature, and discovers a beauty in every
object—in every a harmony. Con
scious of its own greatness, his mind ex-
pands beyond the boundaries of its native
sphere, to visit other worlds and investigate
the laws which maintain the order of the’
universe. With a philosophick eye he
learns to “ look through nature up to na
ture’s God,” and instead of acceding to the
ridiculous systems of heaihen philosophy,
which view the production of the world as
the result of an eternal motion of chaotick
atoms, he ascribes it to the hand of infinite
wisdom and Almighty power. But his spec
ulations are not confined to the physical
world. He analyses the economy of mind,
marks each embryo of thought and from
the first dawn of intellect traces the origin
and advancement of human knowledge up
lo that barrier which terminates the scope
offimte wisdom. He feels himself to be a
moral and a social being, and acknowledges
the obligations which result from his rela
tion to his fellow men. He owns the en
dearing ties of conjugal, filial and paternal
affection, and blesses the private circle with
all the kind offices which that affection in
spires. Ascending from individual to gen
eral and political obligations he obeys and
inculcates obedience to the laws of nations ;
thus facilitating commerce by affording it
security, and preventing wars by removing
the causes whicli produce them, he gradu
ally unites together as a band of brothers
the whole family of man. Contemplating
himself as the noblest specimen of creation,
his soul soars above terrestrial things, as
serts its kindred with the skies, and through
the clear medium of revelation descries an
immortality of bliss.
Such is the transforming influence which
learning and religion united in the cause of
missions, exert upon the world. The ea
gle is converted to the dove—The ferocity
of the tiger is chastened into the meekness
of the lamb. The reasoning savage, man,
becomes an embodied angel—And when
the prosecution of missions shall have be
come commensurate with their design, the
earth which now exhibits a theatre of mis
ery and guilt shall be transformed into a pa
radise of rational delights.
Surely, an institution so fraught with the
best interests of humanity—so pregnant
with all that can meliorate the miseries of
man in this vale of tears-r-witb all that can
adorn and dignify his nature in the scale of
intellectual being—with all that can inspire
him with hope in the last extremity of suf
ferings and give him a safe passport to a
better world—surely such an institution de
serves the patronage of all in whose breast
there exists a spark of interest for Ihe wel
fare of mankind. It presents every motive
which can actuate a noble mind; and with
so many and such resistless claims, can it
want support? Ye votaries of science, who
look with pity on the low enjoyments and
the grovelling pursuits of the illiterate mul
titude, pour into the missionary lamp your
midnight oil and bid it blaze in every clime
and illuminate the inmates of every cottage.
Ye philosophers, who delight to panegy
rize the dignity of the human mind, give
your support to an institution whose influ
ence can develope its noble energy and
wipe away the stain of superstition which
defaces that noblest workmanship of God.
The spirit of missions breathes a law of
kindness which must eventually excite uni
versal sympathy and secure universal pat
ronage. Though baffled for a time by in
credulity and prejudice, it will gather
strength as it progresses, till by its salutary
effects it shall silence prejudice by demon
• stration, and enlarge its revenue even from
i the coffers of avarice. Each emancipated
• slave shall raise to heaven his unfettered
• arm and devote himself to the cause that
• gave him freedom. Each regenerated
heathen shall add his freewill offering to
that bounty which redeemed him from more
than Egyptian bondage. The missionary
cause will finally employ the learning and
piety of the world, and its treasury be en
riched with the wealth of the ludies.
Should any one attempt to exonerate
himself from the snpport of missionaries,
or to depreciate the importance of their
object, by asserting that savages are more
blest in their native forest and derive more
exquisite happiness from the bow and chase
than they could enjoy in the refined walks
of civilization; let him visit their nightly
orgies and see them dancing in concert to
the shrieks of a fellow being expiring at
the stake ; and say, is this a happiness to
he envied ? Passing by a long catalogue of
crimes too degrading to be recited, and too
shocking for ordinary sensibibity to contem
plate, let us visit India, the garden of the
world—the land where nature has painted
her richest scenery and dispeused her bles
sings with a iiberal hand, and what do we
find indicative of rational happiness? We
want not the aid of fancy’s glowing colours
to paint a morning scene and harrow up
your feelings with an exhibition of fictitious
woe. Go to the banks of the Ganges and
count the hecatombs of human victims that
daily choke its sacred stream.—View the
countless skeletons J bat lie unburied on the
shoves and whiten in the sun, tainting the
spicy gale with stench and pestilence.—
See on that funeral pile a widowed mother
self-devoted to the flames, dooming her
helpless offspring to double orphanage—to
beggary and death ! There behold, crush
ed by an idol’s ponderous car, the mutilated
body of a youth—the last solace of declm-
Price, f 1 ”- °M
( $3,00 in advance. >
lOg age, who wiped the failing tear from a
father’s sightless eyes nrwl smoothed the
passage to his last repose. Hear the dis
tracting shrieks of yonder babe, clinging
to the bosom of its expiring mother, whom
vultures make their prey ere her vitals
cease to palpitate with life. View this, ye
who yet cherish in your hearts the gener
ous feeling* of humanity, and while your
blood recoils at the soul-chilling horroura
of the scene, let your liberality swell that
9tream of charity which alone can wash
atvay its stains.
Ye ardent youths, who trim (he midnight
lamp, and toil for endless fame, he it yonf
ambition to rekindle upon dassick ground,
the long extinguished torch of science.
Emulate the Apostolick zeal of Fisk, who is
dow replanting the standard of the cross ip
the land ot Solomon.—Of his lamented col
league who in the spirit of Elijah, took his
upward flight from the hill of Calvary. -
Sons ot enlightened freedom, pour into
the bosom of degraded Africa the oil and
wine to sicatrize the wounds which avarice
has made by the accursed instrument of
slavery. Friends of humanity, let pity for
the heathen world, bleeding onder the pres*
sure of crimes and miseries which set de
scription at defiance move you to aid the
arm of mercy which is now extended to
rescue millions of our race from a cruel and
untimely fate and from the unutterable hor
rors of a second death! Ye highly favoured
parents, whose eyes fill with the tenderness
of bliss while duteous children sport around
you in all the innocence of infantine simpli
city; we plead for parents, who, urged by
idolatry’s infuriating zeal, forget the ties
that bind them to their offspring, tear from
the breast the lisping infant and cast it to
the monsters of the deep!
Ye fair daughters of Virginia, to whom
philanthrbpy cannot appeal iu vain, com-i
passionate your sisters iu the land of dark
ness who are doomed to the drudgery of
servitude or made the degraded ministers
of pleasure to unfeeling tyrants. Rescue
them from their degradation, restore them
to the dignity of their sex, and read the re
cord of your benevolence in the retributions,
of eternity.
Religious Intelligence.
[Communicated for the Missionary.]
AUGUSTA DOMESTICK MISSIONARY
SOCIETY.
The annual meeting of the “ Augusta
Domestick Missionary Society” was held on
(lie 23th December, 1822, at which the
Managers presented a Report of their pro
ceedings during the past year. After which
was chosen anew Board of Managers, con
sisting of the following gentlemen : •
Rev. Wm. Moderns ell, Messrs. IV. J. Hob.
by, Augustus Moore , Ralph Kclchum, ‘l'lios.
McDowall, Timothy Edwards. ‘ Richard
JVarne , John Reach , E. R. Crane , Wm. Bos
tick, Robert A. Reed , B. B. Hopkins. , ;
At a subsequent meeting of. the Board, 4
the Wm. Modkkwf.i.l was elected Pre
sident, and Mr. 11. B. Hopkins Secretary and
Treasurer.
ANNUAL REPORT. ■ |
The command of the Great Heat! of the
Church to w prPHcn the Gospel to every
creature,” is not exclusively binding on those
who bear the sacred office it is likewise
addressed to every Christian who possesses
the means of making that Gospel known to
those who are ignorant of its saying power
and sovereign consolations. It Is fearfully
violated by all those who, by withholding
their contributions or personal exertions,
refuse to co-operate in those benevolent ef
forts, which the piuusare makiog to diffuse
it abroad. *
The Apostle assures ns, that “ whoever
shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be
saved ” —And (hen, as if suddenly recollect
ing the deplorable ignorance and hopeless
condition of heathen nation# and anxious
to excite commiseration for them,and rousw
those around him to exertions in their be
half, he exclaims, “ But how shall jjiey rail
on Him of whom they have not heard ! and
how shull they hear without a preacher t and
how shall they preach except they be scut
It is then, unquestionably, ife <M|ty ofChris
tian to send forth the living’ teacher with
the written word. Bible Societies perforju
the latter. It is the provitfec of association!
like this to accomplish the formei.
To be instrumental in conveying to the
dwellings of ignorance and prejudice,of vioa
and supersiition, of hopgless/poveriy .-iiitl
distress, the light, and elWcya, and cheer
ing hopes of (he Gospel, are surely objects *
of incalculable moment, and worthy of , out ;
most serious and ardent exertions. Such*! ?
the object of this Institution. Touoi.ei
with cotniniseraj'ion ftm the tampnlable con
ditiou of thyse who, iu our itnuj.e<hnte nfiigb