"I know you do; but you do not read it regularly, or as a duty you owe to God its Author." And she added, "Now I shall return home with a happy heart, inasmuch as you have promised to read the Scriptures daily. O Robert, my son, read much in the New Testament. Read much in the Gospels, the blessed Gospels. There you cannot well go astray. If you pray, the Lord Himself will teach you."

I

I parted from my beloved mother, now long gone to that mansion about which she loved to speak. I went on my way, and ere long found myself among strangers. My charge was an important one for a youth; and though possessing a muscular frame, and a mind full of energy, it required all to keep pace with the duties which devolved upon me. lived at a considerable distance from what are called the means of grace, and the Sabbaths were not always at my command. I met with no one who appeared to make religion their chief concern. I mingled, when opportunities offered, with the gay and godless in what were considered innocent amusements, where I soon became a favourite; but I never forgot my promise to my mother.

I had, like most Scotch youths in those days, the Bible in two small volumes. These I read (remembering her last words), chiefly in the New Testament; but it was only as a pleasing duty I owed to her. I thus became familiar with the Gospels, notwithstanding my inattention to what I read. At length I became uneasy, and then unhappy. The question would sometimes, even when my hands were at work, dart across my mind, "What think ye of Christ ?" which I dared not to answer. A hard struggle followed. I could have wished to have ceased reading, but the very thought would raise the image of my mother before me. I tried hard to stifle conviction, but I could not help reading much in the Epistles, and particu

larly in the Epistle to the Romans. This I did with an earnestness I tried in vain to subdue. I felt wretched, but still I did not pray; till one night I arose in a state of horror from a terrific dream. I fell on my knees, and felt as if my sins' like a great mountain. were tumbling down upon me, and that there was but a step between me and the place of woe. Then followed the struggle between hope and despair. I tried to reform-not by avoiding grossly immoral conduct (for I had never been guilty of that), but by forsaking foolish and worldly com pany, vain thoughts, and wicked imaginations.

For many weeks I was miserable. I wished to feel that I was converted, but I could not believe I was. I thought I had the faith required, and that I had repented or turned to the Lord, and could adopt the words

-“To whom shall I go but to Thee, O Jesus?" but still my soul was like a ship in a tempest. At last I made a resolve to become as wicked as I could make myself, and then if converted I should be so sensible of the change that all doubts would vanish. I looked over this awful precipice over which I was about to leap, and trembled at the thought that I might perish in my sins. I turned anon to my Bible, and grasped it, feeling something like a hope that I should not sink with in my hands. I knew of no one to whom I could unbosom the agony burned within. I tried to pray fervently, but thought there was a black cloud between me and the throne of God. I tried to hear Jesus saying to my soul, "Only believe;" but the passages from which I sought comfort only seemed to deepen my wounds.

that

Living alone in a lodge in an extensive garden, my little leisure was my own. One evening, while poring over the Epistle to the Romans, could not help wondering number of passages which

over a

had

read over many times before. They appeared altogether different. I exclaimed, with a heart nearly broken, "Can it be possible that I have never understood what I have been reading?"-turning from one passage to another, each sending a renovation of light into my darkened soul. The Book of God, the precious, undying Bible, seemed to be laid open, and I saw at once what God had done for the sinner, and what was required of the sinner to obtain the Divine favour and the assurance of eternal life. I felt that being justified by faith I had peace with God through the Lord Jesus Christ; and that He was made unto me wisdom, and righteousness, and sanctification, and redemption.

"Oh, to grace how great a debtor Daily I'm constrained to be!"

I must now tell you how God led me to become a missionary to the heathen.

I had undergone a great change of heart; and this, I believe, was produced by the Spirit of God, through reading the Bible and the Bible only-for my small stock of books consisted chiefly of works on gardening and botany. Beyond visitors to see the gardens, and the men in daily employ, who returned to their homes after the labours of the day, I saw no one. I occupied my leisure in studying the Scriptures; and when opportunities offered I did not fail to try to convince others of the necessity of repentance toward God and faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ. I thought I had only to tell them what Christ had done for them, and what was required of them to be saved. I wondered they could not See as I saw, and feel as I felt, after explaining to them the great truths of the everlasting gospel. On the contrary, I was treated by some as one who was somewhat disordered in mind. Having a desire to visit Warrington, a town about six miles from

where I lived, to purchase a trifling article which I required, I went thither. It was on a calm beautiful summer's evening. All nature seemed to be at rest, not a breath of wind to move a leaf. In the clear blue expanse of heaven was to be seen a single cloud passing over the disc of the sun, as it hastened towards its going down. I seemed more than usual to feel admiration of the handiworks of God. I imperceptibly was led to a train of thinking of the past, how much of my life I had spent serving the world, and not Him who died for me-that I had really been living to no purpose. I thought of the present, how little I could do. It was more pleasurable to contemplate the future. The prospects of ere long being put in possession of a situation of honour and trust had, of course, a charm to one who was yet in his teens, besides the hope of having it in my power to do good. Little did I imagine that this bright picture I had been painting of future comfort and usefulness was, in the course of an hour, to vanish like a dream, and that I should be taught the lesson that it is not in man to direct his steps.

With thoughts like these I entered the town, and passing over a bridge, I observed a placard. I stood and read. It was a missionary placard, the first I had seen in my life. It announced that a missionary meeting was to be held; and a Rev. William Roby, of Manchester, would take the chair. I stood some time, reading over and over again, although I found that the time the meeting was to be held was past. Passers-by must have wondered at my fixedness. I could look at nothing but the words on the placard, which I can still imagine I see before The stories of the Moravian missionaries in Greenland and Labrador which I had heard my mother read when I was a boy, which had been entirely lost to memory, never

me.

having been once thought of for many years, came into vivid remembrance as if fresh from her lips. It is impossible for me to describe the tumult which took hold of my mind.

I hastened to obtain the trifle I wanted in town, and returned to the placard, and read it over once more, and now wended my solitary way homewards another man, or rather with another heart. The pleasing earthly prospects I had so lately been thinking of with pleasure had entirely vanished, nor could any power of mind recall their influence. My thoughts became entirely occupied with the inquiry how I could serve the missionary cause. No missionary society would receive me. I had never been at college or at an academy. I, however, began to devise plans. I had been for a short time a young sailor; and I resolved to go to sea again, and get landed on some island or foreign shore, where I might teach poor heathen to know the Saviour.

In

Soon afterwards, having heard that a Wesleyan Conference was to be held in Manchester, I proposed to a young man with whom I had become intimate that we should go thither. During our few days' sojourn, hearing first one and then another, I resolved on hearing William Roby. His appearance and discourse, delivered with gravity and solemnity, pleased me much. the evening, the lady of the house where we lodged remarked that he was a great missionary man, and sometimes sent out young men to the heathen. This remark at once fixed my purpose of calling on that great man; but how and when was a very serious matter to one of a naturally retiring habit. I thought and prayed during the night over the important step I was about to take. There was something like daring in the attempt, which I could

not overcome.

Next morning, when I awoke, my

heart beat at the prospect before me. I had told my beloved companion, Hamlet Clarke, what I intended doing, and asked him to go with me. This he decidedly objected to; but he wished me to go, and promised to wait within sight till I should return. Though the distance we had to walk was more than a mile, it seemed too short for me to get my thoughts in order. Reaching the end of a rather retired street, I proceeded with a slow step. On getting to the door I stood a minute or two, and my heart failed, and I turned back towards my friend, but soon took fresh courage, and came back again. The task of knocking at the good man's door seemed very hard. A second time I reached the door, and had scarcely set my foot on the first step, when my heart again failed. I feared I was acting presumptuously.

At last, after walking backward and forward for a few minutes, I returned to the door and knocked. This was no sooner done than I would have given a thousand pounds, if I had possessed them, not to have knocked; and I hoped-oh, how I hoped with all my heart that Mr. Roby might not be at home, resolv ing that if so I should never again make such an attempt. A girl opened the door. "Is Mr. Roby in?" I inquired, with a faltering voice. "Yes," was the reply; and I was shown into the parlour.

The dreaded man whom I had wished to see soon made his appear. ance. Of course I had to inform him who I was, and my simple tale was soon told. He listened to all I had to say in answer to some ques tions, with a kindly smile; I had given him an outline of my Chris tian experience, and my wish to be a helper in the missionary cause; ! did not even tell him that it was his

name

on the missionary placard I which had directed my steps to his

door. He said he would write to the Directors of the Society, and on hear

ing from them would communicate their wishes respecting me. I returned to my charge; and after some weeks was requested to visit Manchester, that he might get me placed in a situation which would afford him the opportunity of examning me as to my fitness for missionary work. On my arrival, Mr. Roby took me to several of his friends to obtain, if possible, a situation in a garden, a mercantile house, or a bank; but all failed, there being no opening for any one at the time. Mr. Roby then remarked, "I have still one friend who employs many men, to whom I can apply, provided you have no objection to go into a nursery-garden."

"Go!" I replied, "I would go nywhere or do anything for which I may have ability.

Very providentially Mr. Smith, of Jakinfield, happened to be in town, nd at once agreed that I should roceed to his nursery-garden. Thus was I led by a way I knew ot for another important end, for, ad I obtained a situation in Manhester, I might not have had my ate dear wife to be my companion and partaker in all my hopes and

fears for more than half a century in Africa. As it was, Mr. Smith's only daughter, possessing a warm missionary heart, we soon became attached to one another; but she was not allowed to join me in Africa till nearly three years after I left.

Mr. Smith-whose house was a house of call for ministers, and who was always ready to advance the Redeemer's kingdom at home and abroad-only bethought himself, on returning home, that the step he had taken might eventually deprive him of his only daughter; and so, in the providence of God, it turned out. It would be unnecessary to detail the subsequent events during my stay under the watchful care and instruction of Mr. Roby, which lasted nearly a year at the nursery-garden, from which I could visit him only once or twice in each week. He and my father-in-law, as well as both of my own parents, were spared to see us, with grateful joy, after twenty-three years' absence, revisit our fatherland. It is easier conceived than described how all our hearts were filled with gratitude to Him who had guided us and blessed us.

To His name be all the glory!

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