remedies, without even a friend to sympathize with him, or to perform for him the most ordinary offices, he has to pass many a weary hour in solitude, trying to think of Him who has a fel low feeling with his people in all their trials, and endeavouring to pour out his heart to him in prayer. Many indeed, have scarcely reached the scene of their labours, when a period has been put to their life; all their desires for the conversion of the Heathen, all their plans of usefulness, all the anticipations of their friends, have in one day been buried in the tomb. Though the examples have not been frequent, yet some have even been massacred by the savages: the very men whose salvation they sought have taken their lives. We mention these things that you may fully count the cost before you engage in this arduous undertaking you may not meet with the precise trials which we have enumerated; but you may lay your account with others, perhaps not less distressing; and even though there was little probability of this, it may still be useful to inquire whether you are prepared to make these sacrifices, to endure these privations, and to suffer these trials, for the sake of Christ. "If any man come to me," says our Saviour, "and hate not his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, and his own life also, he cannot be my disciple. And whosoever doth not bear his cross, and come after me, cannot be my disciple. And whosoever forsaketh not all that he hath, cannot be my disciple."

[To be continued.]

REMARKABLE PRESERVATION.

A WONDERFUL instance of the preservation of human life, when in imminent danger, occurred at Geneva, N. Y. on the 22d ult. Mr. James Gerry, an Irishman, had descended a well for the purpose of removing some obstructions. The well was sixtyone feet deep, and some of the stones in the wall near the bottom had been loosened by the washing of quicksands. Having descended between forty and fifty feet, as he was standing with one foot in the bucket, and the other resting upon the side of the wall, on a sudden, the stones gave way and closed together, and the whole mass of the walls above sunk down upon him and. buried him beneath the ruins.

The shock, says the Geneva Gazette, produced by such a disaster, can be imagined, but not described. A groan issued from beneath the stones and earth, which proved that life was not extinct, and inspired a feeble hope of extricating the unfortunate man alive! Hundreds immediately collected around the spot in painful solicitude, all anxious to bear a part in rescuing a fellow mortal from so terrible a grave! The most prompt and

active exertions were made to excavate as soon as possible, the stones and earth that had fallen in. It was half past 4 o'clock, P. M. when the catastrophe happened. In fifteen minutes a windlass and bucket were procured and put in operation. No less than eighty ton of stone were to be drawn up before relief could be given. But few could labour at a time-and though they proceeded with the utmost activity, the removing of so great a quantity of stones, mingled with the earth that had fallen in, was a task slow and tedious. As they proceeded occasional groans could still be heard issuing from the cold damp earth beneath. When night approached, they had penetrated but a few feet below the surface, and the prospect seemed gloomy and doubtful. A crowd of two or three hundred anxiously waited the issue of the event. Every thing was soon put in a systematic train-persons were appointed to make all necessary provision and preserve order and silence amongst the crowd. The night was dark and unpleasant, but by the assistance of lamps, they vigorously prosecuted the work. Those in the well would at intervals call to the buried man, to ascertain if he could hear them, but no answer could as yet be heard. A general silence and solemnity prevailed, broken only by the occasional murmur of inquiry among the crowd, the hollow noise of the stones tumbled into the bucket, the voice of the workmen, and now and then the groans of the distressed man beneath. It was now towards midnight, and they had gone about twenty feet below the surface; the workmen in the well called again to Gerry-a breathless silence prevailed, and a distinct answer was returned ! At this a murmur of joy ran through the crowd, and the countenances of all were lighted up with hope. They now toiled with renewed ardour, occasionally calling to Gerry as before, and receiving in return distinct responses. They asked him what distance he thought he was down? he rationally replied "between forty and fifty feet." There now remained not a doubt but he might be extricated alive, provided the stones were not arched over him in such a manner as to fall upon him when loosened; they now proceeded with the utmost caution. Between two and three o'clock, when they had come to within twenty feet of him, they stopped about fifteen minutes to take some refreshment. The poor sufferer below, who for some time had been conscious of the exertions of his sympathizing fellows, perceiving that the noise from the tumbling of the stones into the bucket no longer continued, now fancied they had ceased their exertions, and left him to expire in that terrible situation. In this moment of despair he burst out into a pitiful tone of wailing, and "begged them for God's sake not to leave him!" They informed him of the cause of their stopping, and he was soon gladdened by the returning sound of the rattling of the

stones in the bucket. They asked him in what situation he was? and he answered, that "he was wedged in all round by the stones." When they had come within three or four feet of him. he called for some water to drink. His thirst was the natural result of his protracted agony. About daylight they had lowered the mass down even with his head. They found him fortyeight feet below the surface, in an erect position, completely wedged in, as he had said. A large stone, weighing eighty pounds, rested on his head, which was turned a little up, making à considerable gash, though not producing a fracture in the skull; a stone on each side of his head pressing like a vice, and one or two smaller ones, covered with blood, about his face, leaving a small aperture for his mouth, so that he could just breathe and speak. His arms were raised in the position in 'which he held the rope, one foot was in the bucket, and the other, fortunately, was at liberty so that he could move it; no other part of his body could he stir. So tight was he wedged in, that it was necessary to remove the stones down as low as his feet. At a quarter before nine o'clock in the morning, having continued sixteen hours and fifteen minutes in the well, he was drawn up in a crate, and welcomed by an admiring and joyful crowd to this upper world, as one rescued from the grave, as one arisen from the dead. Shivering with cold, he cast a wistful look around upon his deliverers, and was borne into the house. He was followed by the three faithful men who had toiled incessantly for thirteen hours in the well, and who received as they came up, the hearty cheers of the surrounding multitude for their indefatigable and praiseworthy exertions. Two or three medical gentlemen were in waiting to receive the unfortunate man, and it was found on examination, that providentially, not a bone was fractured or broken. His face and head were badly bruised and cut, as well as other parts of his body. The contusion on his head produced insensibility for a few hours after the accident, as he says he knew nothing for some time. He is now in a fair way to recover, and will probably, in a few days, by the blessing of God, be enabled to resume his usual avocations.

HORRORS OF WAR.

SOME of the horrors of this scourge of nations are glaringly depicted in the following pathetic story copied from the London Literary Gazette, which the editor asserts is founded on facts which actually occurred; and that the orphan referred to is still alive. What Christian can read it, and not pour forth the desires of his inmost soul to God that he would restrain the madness of the nations, and cause them to "learn war no more ?”

-What Christian can read it, and not do all in his power to disseminate the blessings of that pure gospel, which breathes peace on earth and good will to men?-Christian Mirror.

"Bill Neville was our messmate, and he used to tell us a little of his history. And so, sir, he was brought up in a country village, and loved his wife when only a little girl; and he went to sea, thinking to make his fortune for her sake. Well, he got to be master of a merchantman, and then they were married. Who can describe the pleasure of that moment when their hands were spliced at the altar, and he hailed her as his own! O! said Mary, 'should you never return what shall I do? where shall I pass-where end my wretched days?' His heart was too full to speak; one hand clasped in hers, the other pointed to the broad expanse, where the noon-day sun was shining in meridian splendour. It had a double meaning-Mary felt it: "There is a God, trust to him!' or, if not on earth, we meet in heaven!' Well, sir, eighteen months rolled away, during which, in due time, Mary brought into the world a dear pledge of affectiona lovely boy. But O, the agony of a mother, as every day dragged on without intelligence from William! when she looked at the sweet babe-was it indeed fatherless, and she a widow? You'll excuse my stopping, sir, but indeed I can't help it—I've shed tears over it many a time."

"Well, sir, eighteen months was turned, when one morning Mary arose to pour out her heart before her Maker, and weep over her sleeping child. The sun had just risen above the hills, when a noise in the little garden which fronted the cottage alarmed her. She opened the casement, and put aside the woodbine -beheld, delightful, yet agonizing sight-her dear, her longmourned William, handcuffed between two soldiers, while others with their side-arms drawn, seemed fearful of losing their prey! His face pale, and his emaciated body worn down with fatigue and sickness, his spirit seemed ready to quit its frail mansion, and was only kept to earth by union with his wife. Mary forgot all, and clasped him in her arms; but the rattling of the irons pierced her soul. I do not mean to condemn the policy, sir; but 'tis a cruel practice, that of pressing. Ah! I remember it-though I always served my king, God bless him! Yet I've witnessed many an aching heart, and heard many a groan of agony. But to proceed; William was pressed; Mary hastened into the cottage, and wrapping the sleeping babe in its blanket, she prepared to accompany him. Cannot you picture to yourself the first glance which the wretched parent cast upon the child? O, it was a sad, sweet parting that wrung the soul! I shall pass by their meeting, their dear delight, their bitter anguish. If you can feel, it is already engraven on your heart. Suffice it to say, William had been shipwrecked on the African coast, and

though he had lost the whole of his property, heaven had spared his life, and his the only one. Sickness came on him, and but for the humanity of a poor untutored negro, he might have breathed his last. She was black-she was a negro; but God searches the heart. He had procured with much difficulty a passage home. The ship arrived; he set out and walked many a weary mile, led on by love, and cheered by hope, till the roof of his cottage appeared in view. Here he sunk upon his knees, and poured forth his heart in trembling anxiety, and fervent petition. A sailor can pray, sir, and it matters not, so it be right, whether it is in a matted pew, a church, or swinging like a cat at the mast-head. He arose and with hastier step reached the wicket, when-but I dare not repeat the story-I've told you already that he was pressed. Well, he was drafted on board of us, and his dear Mary permitted to be with him. The evening before the action, she was sitting on the carriage of the bow gun, with her baby cradled in her arms, and William by her sidethey were viewing with admiration and delight, the beauteous scenery displayed by the sinking clouds in a thousand fantastic shapes, tinged with liquid gold streaming from the setting sunand caressing the little innocent, while all the parent kindled in their heart. But hark! a hoarse voice is heard from the masthead-all is hushed. 'Hallo!' said the captain. A sail on the larboard bow, sir.' 'What does she look like?' I can but just see her, sir, but she looks large. Mr Branks,' said the captain, 'take your glass aloft and see if you can make out what she is. Call the boatswain-turn the hands up-make sail.' In an instant all was bustle; the topmen were in their station, and every man employed, and in a few minutes every stitch of canvas was stretched upon the yards and booms. The officer that was sent aloft reported it to be a ship of the line, which looked like a foreigner. Every heart was now elate, but Mary's-it might be an enemy! O that thought was dreadful? And as William conducted her below, the tears chased each other down her pale face, and the heavy sigh burst from her gentle bosom. William mildly reproved her, and again pointing to heaven, flew to his post. The stranger had hauled to the wind, fired a gun, and hoisted French colours. Up went ours with three cheers resounding through the ship, and broadside upon broadside shook her groaning timbers. Where was Mary? William was first in every danger. Three times we boarded the foe, but were repulsed. Dreadful grew the scene of blood and horror through the darkening shades of coming night. No one bore tidings of the fight to Mary, save the poor sailors whose shattered limbs came to suffer amputation, or the wounded wretch to be dressed, at which she assisted with fortitude. Two hours had passed in this awful suspense and heart rending anxiety, when a deep