Mrs. Comstock* of the Burmah Baptist mission felt called upon to part with her two children, whom God had given her while on the field of labor. The hour for separation came, and taking them by the hand, she led them down to the ship that was to bear them for ever from her sight. Having invoked the blessing of Heaven upon them, she gave each the parting kiss and, with streaming eyes, lifted her hands towards heaven and exclaimed: "My Saviour! I do this for thee."

Amid the jungles of the East,

Where gloomiest forms of sin are rife,

Like flowerets in a desert drear,

Her treasured ones had sprung to life.

And smiling round her, day by day,

Though cares unnumbered weigh her heart,
Their prattle, full of music tones,
Unceasing joy and hope impart.

Their little minds, like tender buds
In vernal hours, she sees unfold,
And young affection in their eyes
Is gleaming like a gem of gold.

But 'mid the toils that press her sore
The spirit-wants of 'wildered ones—
These buds must often miss the dew,

And plead in vain for constant suns.

She sees their smiles, their music hears,
And feels affection's holy thrall;
But duty's voice, from out the skies,

In sweeter tones, is heard o'er all.

* Sarah Davis Comstock was the wife of the Rev. Grover S. Comstock, who was stationed at Kyouk Phyoo in the province of Arracan, Burmah. She was born at Brookline, Massachusetts, in 1812, and died at Ramree, April twenty-eighth, 1843.

To Western climes, illumed by truth,
And blest with learning's sacred flowers,
These blossoms of her heart must go,
To bloom henceforth in stranger bowers.
She leads them to the waiting ship;

She kneels in anguish on the deck,
And while she breathes a silent prayer,
Their arms like tendrils twine her neck.

She tears her from the loved away,

Whom she on earth no more may see, And looking up to heaven, exclaims, "My Saviour, I do this for thee!"

Then hastens to her task again,

The pleasant task her Saviour's given, That, finished all, she may ascend,

And lure the distant ones to heaven

A KIND-HEARTED CHIPPEWA.

66

Both men and women belie their nature
When they are not kind.

BAILEY'S FESTUS.

In the early settlement of Ohio, Daniel Convers was captured by the savages; but he had the good fortune to be purchased by a noble-hearted Indian whose wife possessed a kindred spirit. His condition, we are informed in the Pioneer History of Ohio, was not that of a slave, but adoption into the family as a son. wife, whom he was directed to call model of all that is excellent in patient, kind-hearted, humane and considerate to the wants and comfort of all around her, and especially so to their newly adopted son. To sum

rather an The Indian's mother, was a woman, being

up all her excellences in a brief sentence of the captive's own language, she was 'as good a woman as ever lived.”” *

* Mr. Convers escaped from his Chippewa friends, at Detroit. Touching the treatment he received from his adopted mother, a writer says: "How few among the more civilized race of whites would ever imitate the Christian charities of this untaught daughter of nature!"

HUMANITY OF A CHEROKEE

How poor an instrument

May do a noble deed.

SHAKSPEALE.

During the Revolution, a young Shawanese In dian was captured by the Cherokees and sentenced to die at the stake. He was tied, and the usual preparations were made for his execution, when a Cherokee woman went to the warrior to whom the prisoner belonged, and throwing a parcel of goods at his feet, said she was a widow and would adopt the captive as her son, and earnestly plead for his deliverance. Her prayer was granted, and the prisoner taken under her care. He rewarded her by his fidelity, for, in spite of the entreaties of his friends, whom he was allowed to visit, he never left her.

SELF-SACRIFICING SPIRIT OF THE MISSIONARY.

Thou know'st not, Afric! sad of heart and blind,
Unskilled the precious Book of God to read ;
Thou canst not know, what moved that soul refined,
Thy lot of wretchedness to heed,

And from her fireside, bright with hallowed glee,
To dare the boisterous surge and deadly clime for thee.

MRS. SIGOURNEY.

We know not how one may exhibit greater benevolence than to offer life for the spiritual good of the heathen; and he virtually does this who goes to some, at least, of the missionary stations. Those in Africa are the most unhealthy, and their history presents a frightful bill of mortality. In his journal of January, 1846, Dr. Savage, of the Protestant Episcopal mission in Africa, states that during the nine years previous to that date, the whole number of missionaries under the patronage of the different Boards, in Africa, had been sixty-one, and of that number forty were then dead. American Baptists alone lost eleven between 1826 and 1848. Five of them were buried in the single town of Monrovia. With such facts as these, touching African missions, staring the disciple of Christ in the face, it must require no com