would rise up before her. She would feel how great the trial must be to leave all the endeared scenes of youth and childhood, and go forth to toil and perhaps die among strangers in a strange land. Dark visions would often flit before her, and she felt how terrible it must be to sicken and expire on shores where no mother's kind hand could lift her anguished head nor smooth her fevered pillow. But at other times, her spirit soared above the toil and sorrow, and dwelt with rapture upon the bliss of seeing some of the poor degraded heathen females converted to Christ. The glory of the great enterprise presented itself, and she realized the blessedness of those who leave father and mother, brother and sister, houses and land, for the promotion of the kingdom of Christ. From these various struggles she came forth purified, dead to the world, and alive unto Christ. Any sacrifice she was willing to make; any toil endure. It was her meat and drink to do the will of God and accomplish his work. After a full investigation of all the privations and sacrifices of a missionary life, after a solemn and prayerful estimate of all that was to be left behind, and all that would be gained, she formed her opinion and decided to go forth. A feeble woman, just out of childhood, she linked her fate with an unpopular and scorned enterprise, and cast in her lot with the dark-browed daughters of India. We have seen grand enterprises commenced and carried on; we have seen our fellow men gathering imperishable laurels, but never before did the world witness so grand a spectacle, with so high an object to be accomplished by mortals, as was given in the departure of Harriet Newell, to teach the lessons of Jesus in distant lands. We consider the career of Napoleon a glorious one. We cannot look upon his successful marches and battles, however much we disapprove his course, without something of admiration mingled with our abhorrence. There was a gorgeous glory which gathered around the character of that Emperor of blood which hides his errors and dazzles the eyes of the beholder. But the true glory which gathered over that little band of missionaries as they left the snow-covered, ice-bound coast of America, to find homes and graves in distant India, far outshines all the glitter of pomp and imperial splendor which ever shed its rays upon the brilliant successes of the monarch of France, the conqueror of Europe. Had True, they went forth alone. No weeping church followed them to the water-side. No crowded shore sent up its wail, or echoed forth the fervent prayer; but in the homes of the people, in the heart of God, these holy men and women were remembered. that beautiful hymn been composed for them, it could not have been more appropriate, and as they stood upon the deck of the wave-washed Caravan, it must have been the sentiments of all their hearts. "Scenes of sacred peace and pleasure, Holy days and sabbath bell, Richest, brightest, sweetest treasure, Can I say a last farewell? Can I leave you Far in distant lands to dwell? Yes, I hasten from you gladly- Far in heathen lands to dwell. In the desert let me labor, On the mountain let me tell Let me hasten Far in heathen lands to dwell." Miss Atwood was united in marriage to Mr. Newell on the 9th of February, 1812, and on the 19th, the Caravan set sail, as before stated. The voyage to Calcutta, though attended with many things to render it unpleasant to a feeble American woman, was not a severe one. The weather most of the time was pleasant, and only occasionally did the waves sweep across the decks of the vessel, or flow through the windows into the cabin. Mrs. Newell spent her time in writing letters to her American friends, and preparing herself for her missionary work. She now had leisure to examine her own heart, and descend into the hidden mysteries of her soul; she had ample space to view the past, and form plans for the future; she could try her motives by the unerring word of God, and by humble prayer and careful meditation, be enabled to acquire strength which should prove equal to her trials. The cabin of a wave-tossed vessel, the loneliness of a voyage across the deep green ocean, a separation from earth's homes and earth's hearts, were all calculated to lift up the pious mind, and centre the soul's best affections upon pure and worthy objects. Whatever of care and sorrow she might have had, however much or however little of anxiety might have filled her bosom, such circumstances were sufficient to bring her faith to the most severe test. The voyage must have been severe but healthy discipline, and doubtless from it was learned many a lesson of grace and duty. As the snow-covered hills of her own dear home disappeared; as the tall chimney at the entrance of the harbor, from which the nightly flame burned forth a beacon to the mariner to guide him amid the storm was lost in the distance; as the first night came on and darkness gathered over the wide waste of waters; as deep shadows fell upon the form of the plunging ship; the missionary cause must have presented itself in a new light, and to some extent have been clothed with sombre hues. And as time rolled on and the distance from home increased, that sacred call of God, that holy mission on which she was employed must have appealed more strongly to the Christ-like heart of our missionary sister. The vessel encountered storm and tempest, the usual inconveniences of a sea voyage were endured, and danger in a thousand threatening forms appeared, but the hand which formed the channels of the sea, preserved his servants, and amid storm and darkness guided the vessel which bore them to homes and graves in the dark places of the earth. On her passage, Mrs. N. kept an interesting journal, not only of her own feelings, but also of the incidents that rendered the voyage pleasant or painful, and checkered it with evil or good. And such incidents there are always. When on the ocean, far from land for the first time, the dullest and most stupid mind cannot fail of being aroused to new and awful emotions. Man learns of God at such an hour, and finds new proof of his grandeur and glory in every dashing wave, and every whistling blast. With but a single inch between him and a watery death, he gazes from his narrow deck upon the boundless expanse of tossing, foam-crested billows, while, as far as his eye can stretch, not a foot of land appears. His vessel may be on fire, she may fill with water, she may be riven by lightning, but there is no friendly sail to which wrecked man may fly and be safe. His ship will founder in mid-ocean, while not a single form appears to lend the helping hand, and not an eye is seen flowing with tears of pity; nothing is heard but the moan of ocean,nothing is seen but the sweeping surge, as it passes on leaving no track of the submerged vessel. Confined in towns and cities, enclosed in walls of stone and brick, chained to the wheel of custom, the soul of man becomes contracted and dwarfed. All around are monuments of human skill, and everything as little as the human mind. But when he |