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 a 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! Oh!' 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 noonday 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 oh, 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 loosing 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 yoursclf the first glance which the wretched parent cast upon the child? Oh, 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

groan and piercing shriek from the lower deck convulsed her frame. She knew the voice, and snatching the infant in her arms rushed to the spot. Soon she found the object of her search. His manly form mangled and shattered; that face once ruddy with the glow of health, now pale and convulsed; the warm blood streaming from his side and breast; he saw her too. Mary' said he, and raising his feeble hand, pointed to heaven-it fell-and William was no more! Sinking on the lifeless body of her husband, Mary fainted, with the dear babe still in her arms! when, oh, mysterious providence, at that very moment, when senseless and inanimate, a ball entered through the vessel's side-it pierced her bosom ! Need I tell the rest? they were pleasant and lovely in their lives, and in their death they were not divided."

RELIGIOUS AND MISSIONARY INTELLIGENCE.

WYANDOT MISSION.

Letter from BISHOP SOULE, giving an account of a visit to the Indian Mission, at Upper Sandusky.

Dear Brother,-Shortly after the close of the General Conference, I left Baltimore and proceeded to Sharpsburgh, where I met bishop M Kendree, who had set out a week before me. Since that time we have generally travelled in company, visiting the churches and preaching on our way. We have been mercifully preserved in safety and in health, in a sickly country, and at the season most subject to the prevalence of disease. In the path of duty we walk unhurt in fire. To God be all the praise. Saturday, August 14, we left the Wyandot Mission at Upper Sandusky, after having spent a week with the mission family, and in visiting and receiving visits from the Indians. The change which has been produced, both in the temporal and spiritual condition of this people, is matter of praise to Him, "who has made of one blood all nations of men to dwell upon the face of the whole earth; and cannot be viewed but with the most lively pleasure by every true philanthropist. Prior to the opening of the mission among them their condition was truly deplorable. Their religion consisted of Paganism, improved, as they conceived, by the introduction of some of the ceremonies of the Roman Catholic church. Hence, although they were baptized, they kept up their heathen worship, their feasts, their songs, and

Gallatin, Tenn., November 13, 1824.

their dances; sad proofs of their deep ignorance of God, and of that worship which he requires. In this state the belief in witchcraft was so strong and prevalent as to produce the most melancholy consequences. Numbers have been put to death as witches, under the influence of this belief. Their morals were of the most degraded kind. Drunkenness, with all its concomitant train of vices, had overrun the nation. Poverty, and nakedness, and misery, followed in their desolating course. In this condition the chase was their chief, if not their only resource. The cultivation of their lands, although among the most fertile and beautiful in the western country, was almost entirely neglected. To the comfort of domestic life they were consequently strangers. Such were the Wyandot Indians when the missionary labours were commenced among them. Their present situation presents a most pleasing contrast. A large majority of the nation have renounced their old religion, and embraced the Protestant faith, and they generally give ample proof of the sincerity of their profession by the change of their manner of life. Those especially who have joined the society, and put themselves under the discipline of the church, are strictly attentive to all the means of grace, so far as they understand them,