Society for the time being, are to be perpetual mem- | cises and religious instruction are continued daily. bers of the board of trustees. The first topic of disputation given in the college of Fort William, was the following:-" It is easier to diffuse the literature and science of the western nations among the natives of India, by translating European books into their own tongue, than by instructing them in the European languages." The rising college was greatly indebted to the personal cares of Milne, who about this time received the gratuitous diploma of D. D. from the University of Glasgow. At the laying of the foundation stone, he delivered an ad-"cheerfully read and commit to memory our books; mirable speech. Several works have issued from the college press, In the year 1819, he had to mourn the loss of his wife: left alone with several children, he applied with increased ardor to his studies, as the best relief to sorrow. In this year he finished the translation of the historical books of the Old Testament. His health now began to decline: the directors were desirous that he should seek a more propitious climate; he took a voyage to the Prince of Wales' Island, where, finding the heat too oppressive, the governor of Malacca sent the Nautilus to convey him home. He suffered extreme pain; but death came rapidly to his release, and, with great composure of mind, he yielded his life at the age of 37. After the decease of his friend, Dr. Morrison paid a visit to England, where he earnestly sought to promote the cultivation of the Chinese language and literature, and gave instruction to several students. The prosperity of the Anglo-Chinese college, was the fervent desire of this learned and eminent man, who is considered to be the first Chinese scholar of his day. "The gospel," he observes in his address to the British public, "can be preached to this people, where tens and hundreds of thousands of them dwell under Christian Protestant governments, and under Malayan governments, which do not interfere to prevent instruction being given to the Chinese. In Java, there is a large population of the latter; as well as in the British settlements, and at Rhio, Borneo, and other places in the archipelago. It is not a field of labor that is wanting, but reapers to enter into, and labor in that field. The late Dr. Milne proved at Malacca, what Singapore is a station, where there is a chapel. has been proved every where else, that prejudices and regular preaching to the Malays and Chinese: will give way to sincere benevolence, persevered in. the teachers enter the houses, temples, &c. and a The Chinese in Malacca, now allow their sons to spirit of inquiry is excited among the people; one be taught the principles of the Christian religion; of them, Mr. Tomlin, lately made a journey to Banand were proper teachers to make the experiment, kok, the capital of Siam, where he was well rethey would allow their daughters also to receive in-ceived: crowds of people thronged his apartments, struction from Christian females. Reading, to a certain extent, may be considered as a common attainment throughout the whole of China, aud in the colonies; also in Corea, Japan, Loochoo, and Cochin-China: this fact makes the press an important instrument." On his return to China, this most valuable man resumed his various labors: he composed and printed three volumes, viz. an Introduction to the Reading of the Scriptures; an Epitome of Church history and Prophecy; and Aids to Devotion, taken from the English Liturgy. He has also undertaken a dictionary of the provincial dialect of Canton, which is now printing at the Honorable Company's press. Leang-a-fa, the native convert and preacher, has removed to a village 100 miles from Canton, where he seeks every opportunity to be useful to his countrymen. The Anglo-Chinese college at Malacca has now twenty-six Chinese students; the senior students apply to Christian theology, mathematics, geography, and the English language; there are eight candidates for admission: the usual literary exer There are also two schools at Malacca, one Malay and one Tamul, under the care of the missionaries: both are supported by government. In the native female school, opened by Miss Newell, there are twenty pupils: under her excellent care, there is also a free school, which is patronized by Lady Garling, and contains seventy girls. This young lady, a relative probably of Harriet Newell, has published "An Abstract of Geography" for the use of her schools: she has also prepared twelve discourses, adapted to the circumstances and feelings of Indian children. to procure copies of the Chinese Scriptures and tracts, in his possession. At Penang and Java, two promising stations, there is a general demand for the Scriptures in various languages-Arabic, Persian, &c. A fresh supply of Malay Bibles and Testaments was sent out. The Malay services on the Sabbath, and the schools, were well attended. The lithographic press, to which Mr. Medhurst has paid much attention, as being in every respect preferable to any er for works in the Eastern language, is now at work. At this press, some thousands of books have already been printed. A fount of Javanese types has also been executed, the expense of which was defrayed by Mr. Bruckner, formerly a missionary of the Society. The Ultra-Ganges mission, as it is called, has thus a very wide and arduous field of exertion, hitherto untried by any laborer. While the life of Morrison is spared to this mission, a high and increasing interest will attend its progress: the zeal of his companions in the cause, is great-the success is slow, and painfully won: a few have followed Milne to an early grave. END OF VOLUME III. A MEMORIAL OF AN ONLY AND BELOVED SISTER. BY REV. ANDREW REED, PREFACE. WHEN the subject of the following memoir was removed from all earthly intercourse, it became unconsciously the purpose of the writer, as soon as his mind could come to the employ, and before any of the lighter passages in the history should be lost, to bring together whatever might best illustrate her estimable character. Such a record seemed necessary to himself, since he could not allow any thing valuable to fade from his memory connected with a name so sacred to his thoughts; and it appeared desirable for his children, as he hoped it might supply them in future time with a fine example of excellence, and a strong relative motive to copy it into their lives and deportment. If it is asked why the original purpose is now carried out into an act of publication, the author acknowledges that he has been influenced in coming to this decision, generally, by the opinion of those on whose opinion he can well rely; and especially by the hope that it might contribute to accomplish more extensively the earnest and latest desire of his beloved relation. Without the most distant anticipation of the measure now adopted, it was particularly her prayer, that her death might be made useful; and in fervently seeking to give the fullest effect to her devout wishes, he knew not of any means better suited to the object, than placing under the eye of others a correct delineation of her character. Let it be understood, however, that the history is entirely of a domestic class. The author has no splendid incidents, no improbable reverses, no extraordinary circumstances to excite curiosity and hold attention. The life he records, if interesting at all, must be so, not from its dissimilarity, but from its resemblance to our own; the occurrences which vary it are of that simple and sober kind, that they abound in our daily enjoyments, and are familiar to our common existence. The same observation should be applied to the character he would describe. It is not intellectual so much as moral; and if intellectual, the mental endowments are only such as are ordinary and general, while they are successfully directed to high and extraordinary moral attainments. If these explanations are given to prevent disappointment, the writer does not state them as disadvantages. They are rather, he conceives, favorable to his design. His memoir may not make so deep an impression, but it may make a better one. Were it his duty to record the most striking incidents, he might well fear lest, in the excitation and development of an intricate story, the lessons inseparable from it should be neglected. Were he about to fix the eye on the brilliancy of mental powers of unusual magnitude, he might suspect that his reader would be content to admire what he despaired to imitate. But as there is nothing to captivate the thoughts from the chief object, as there is nothing extraordinary but what is attainable, he would hope that the reader will readily feel, that what the deceased became he may be; and that, if he is not, it will be, not his fate, but his fault. The author was convinced, that in portraying such a life, it would be utterly useless merely to make a chronological record of events and actions, or even to do no more than faithfully describe the leading features of character. He has been concerned to subordinate dates and occurrences to their moral effect; to trace the influence of circumstances on the passions and the judgment; to show, not only what the individual became, but to mark, step by step, the way in which she reached her spiritual elevation. And this object was not to be effected by a hasty sketch, or a few powerful strokes of the pencil. Patient exertion was indispensable. There must be stroke upon stroke, line upon line, touch upon touch, to reach progressively the full expression of a character at once energetic and delicate In fulfilling his design, it was unavoidable that allusion should be made to living names, and especially to the members of his family. He hopes, however, that though he has not written with the eye of the public upon him, he has in no case exceeded the limits of propriety. He can sincerely say he has always made such reference with reluctance, and never except where it appeared necessary to put the subject of his memoir in interesting and useful lights. Had he taken more liberty in this way, the narrative would certainly have approached nearer to what he desired to render it. After this statement, he is ready to believe every candid mind will justify his intentions, even if it should be thought, in the fulness of the heart, more has been said than is meet. He now commits his little work to the hands of those with whom he has found favor beyond his highest expectations; anxiously breathing at the footstool of Him who has all hearts in his disposal, the prayer of his relative that He would render her life and her death useful-eminently useful. Particularly he commends it to the kindly notice of those who are of the same sex and similar age.Their character is soon formed: much depends on how it is formed. Woman, like the snow from heaven, is the fairest thing we know when fair; the foulest when debased and polluted. CHAPTER I. INFANCY. 1793-1800. READER-Permit the writer to detain your attention one moment. He is unwilling that your eye should pass to the ensuing narrative with the indifference of a stranger, or the cold curiosity of a critic. He is about to introduce you, more or less, to a retired domestic circle, and especially to an acquaintance with one of its members, with whom he is disposed to think you cannot have communion without being made the wiser and the happier. In thus welcoming you as an inmate of his humble family, and placing before you whatever in the character and life of a beloved relative, may contribute to gratify or to benefit, he affords a sincere pledge of his friendship; and, in return, he anxiously solicits the exercise of a kindly sympathy and reposing confidence. Perhaps you possessed a treasure as dear to you as his, and have lost it; or perhaps you still hold such a one, and tremble at the idea of its removal: in either case the sympathy he desires will already have existence. And though, by a mere possibility, neither circumstance may apply to you, the pleadings of our common humanity will be, he would think, too powerful to withhold confidence where confidence is given, or to disrespect those sufferings which sooner or later "all flesh is heir to." In this assurance, then, he will pour his words as into the ear of a friend, expecting friendship for friendship, joy for joy, and tear for tear. My dear sister was born on the 2d of June, 1793, and named Martha, after the late Mrs. Hamilton, of Brighton; a lady endeared to my mother by the intimacies of a lengthened friendship, and who was so happy in conciliating general opinion, that her friends were accustomed to say, by a forced application of Scripture, she was obnoxious to that wo, which is expressed against those who are followed by the voice of universal approbation. have received from my sister's own conduct, were entirely favorable to those I had derived from her birth, and are connected with the second and third years of her life. About this time, our parents judged it necessary, for the preservation of our health, to remove us from their habitation, which was in the confined neighborhood of Temple-bar, before the adoption of the recent improvements, We were therefore placed at Highgate, under the care of a nurse; who, like most of her class, was notable, industrious, and attentive to the outward wants and comforts of her children; but who, with intervening fits of fondness, was really sharp-tempered; and who, whether kind or severe, was never prepared to exercise, what children most need, and in the end most desire, impartial justice. Her treatment was never the fruit of reflection on the different characters and tempers of children; it sprang from the caprice of the moment, or from the settled preferences of a selfish attachment. It happened, from whatever cause, that my sister succeeded in gaining the partialities of this good woman; and, of course, I lost them. I was not long in painfully ascertaining the extent of my loss.We were constantly put in opposition to each other. She was the "good girl," and I was "the troublesome, mischievous boy." I was sometimes corrected on her account, when my heart told me I was not in fault; and she was caressed unduly, that I might feel more the bitterness of neglect. I was uniformly made subservient to her; if she cried, I was forced to amuse her; if she desired my toys, I was obliged to surrender them; if any thing was to be enjoyed, she was to be first and chiefly consulted; till I was in danger of concluding, that in order to make her happy, it was necessary to render me miserable. To those who are interested in the education of children, it will at once appear that our moral dispositions were placed, at this early period, in a perilous state of trial. I had hitherto considered my At this time I was somewhat more than five years sister as a part of my happiness, as an enlargement of age; and was well prepared to receive my new of myself; and my enjoyments, of whatever kind, relation with open arms of love. I had, about a had seldom yielded me their full amount of pleatwelvemonth previously, lost an infant brother, who sure, unless she was made, as she could, to particihad been so repeatedly talked of by my parents, in pate. But now the thoughtless conduct of our erms of tenderness and regret, that I felt as if I nurse awakened within me passions, of which I had had lost every thing in losing him. When, there- not been conscious. I was disposed to look on my ore, "a little sister" was announced to me, I seem- sister's gratifications with jealousy, as they usually ed restored to a world of happiness; and I was robbed me of mine. Her interests and mine apmost earnest in begging to see and possess my un-peared, not only separate, but contrary. I felt undefined treasure. At length I was told that my prayer was granted -that I was to see my sister; an assurance capable of producing such powerful emotions, as subsided in an impression of the event which my memory still retains, and will ever retain. The very attempt to record it, brings it to my mind with a vividness and a force, which for many years I have not realized. I am carried back to an apartment familiar to my days of childhood. I appear to see the door open, and the nurse enter with her tender charge resting on her bosom. I follow her to her seat, and take my place at her knees, impatient to behold an object of which I had I know not what conceptions. What sensations I felt, as the nurse prepared to unfold the delicate coverings in which it was wrapped! With what a full heart of satisfaction I first looked on its half hidden face! How I trembled as I pressed the soft and unresisting flesh of its little arm! The earliest impressions which I remember to easy in the society of her I loved above all human beings; and to avoid rebukes, and sacrifices, and humiliations, I was inclined, though reluctantly, to avoid her. Happily, my sister seemed more prepared to meet this little crisis in our infantile friendship than myself. On a temper more vain, or more selfish, it might undoubtedly have produced the most baneful effects; but her affection supplied her already with a weapon to resist and subdue them. My previous fondness towards her, had sunk into her susceptible heart; and as soon as she perceived that her pleasures were to be purchased at the price of my comfort, she began to hesitate in demanding them.Nothing the nurse could do to gratify her at my expense, would secure her approbation, or influence her to abandon her brother in sorrow and disgrace. She would often restore the toy which, at her own hasty request, had been too rudely snatched away; she would take her little stool, and seat herself quietly by me when I was in distress, and refused to or after," in the plenitude of enjoyment the present moment bestowed. be comforted, unless I was to be comforted likewise; she would gaze on my face, and, throwing her arms round my neck, would kiss away the tear It may readily be supposed that this entire com. which hung on my cheek; she would boldly plead munity of thought, occupation, and amusement was my cause against her friend and my judge; and in- of advantage to us both. Separate from its opening sist again and again with her sweet lisping tongue, to us a fund of pleasure for the passing time, it (I think I hear it now!) that I was a good boy. In placed us in the most attractive lights to each other. these generous exercises, she preserved my affec-It gave us each an object to love; and furnished, tion and strengthened her own; and though it was however unconsciously, the opportunity and means very undesirable, that so early our loves should be of establishing our affection. thus exposed to trial, certainly it ended in mutual advantage. What was the full amount of benefit arising to my sister from this intercourse must be inferred The eye of a parent is remarkably searching. from her general history, rather than from any parThere was nothing in the treatment we received ticular illustrations; of the benefits derived from which a general observer would not have approved her character and attachment to myself I think I -nothing of which our parents could decidedly can speak with greater precision. How high socomplain; yet there was enough to cherish uneasi- ever the gratifications we found in our innocent, ness and dissatisfaction. There was not that ap- healthful, and sometimes pensive amusements, I am pearance of content, and cheerfulness, and uncon- conscious of having possessed a higher and deeper strained familiarity which they had been accustom-source of pleasure in my love of her. Frequently ed to see in us. The uneasiness of the child was in the very hey-day of my enjoyments, I have inquickly communicated to the heart of the parent. voluntarily paused to gaze on her with a heart full Confidence in our nurse was shaken; and we were of sweet sentiments. Memory still supplies me with restored to the society of our natural and best pro- the image of what she then was. Her lively and affectionate blue eyes, her rosy and smiling cheeks, her open and fair countenance, her golden locks resting on her shoulders-her whole form, ornamented with the white frock and streaming broad sash, such as I have seen it tripping over the green, or reposing in the shadow of a tree, is still before me! tectors. When Martha was about five years of age, it was again found desirable to afford us the advantage of a freer and purer air. We were therefore situated with a friend at Mitcham in Surrey, with whom, excepting some intervals in the winter seasons, we continued for a considerable time. I have a distinct remembrance of the days that passed over us at this place; childhood can have few to boast of happier than they. We were no longer in circumstances to tempt the bad passions into exercise. The hours not engaged by the duties of our separate schools, were spent together; we were nearly each other's sole companions. Martha naturally looked to me as her brother and senior. She thought herself safe in my protection, and aspired to partake of my more robust amusements. With me she spun the top, trundled the hoop, and taught the kite to fly on the wings of the wind. With me she chased the butterfly, surmounted the stile and hedge, and wandered from cornfield to cornfield, collecting gay flowers; and at last returning home, each other's king and queen, crowned with the garlands our busy fingers had weaved. Fancy, too, had her reign; and active pursuits would be resigned for those which were more pensive. When the summer shower has been falling, we have sat gazing up into heaven, till we thought we saw it sprinkled from the hands of angels, and have run out to the garden that it might fall on us. Often have we sat beneath the elm trees, while the glorious sun was setting, imagining his rays, broken as they were by the branches and foliage, to be a thousand separate stars, and amused ourselves in a vain attempt to number them. We have wandered far from home; and penetrating the copse-wood, and burying ourselves in the leaves, have represented the babes in the wood, till we reproached the birds for not bringing us blackberries. We have made to ourselves wings, and flown to every part of the earth with which we had any acquaintance; we travelled to the edge of the world (which we could never think of but as a plain,) and have shuddered to look down into nothing. We told over again the tales of the nursery, and have invented, if possible, many things more marvellous. What joys have been ours in the midst of these childish engagements! Free from care and from fear, we desired nothing, we regretted nothing. We were a little world to ourselves, and were happy in mutual possession. We forgot "all that was before I can imagine, likewise, that her greater susceptibility, arising partly from her character and partly from her sex, was equally advantageous. The boy who associates only with boys, is in danger of becoming cruel and obstreperous. The mother and the sister are wisely prepared to soften and restrain the manly propensities from running into vicious excess. This influence is rather uniform than striking-rather effectual than palpable! but as my memory supplies me with an instance, which may assist me in throwing out the character I am seeking to delineate, I do not scruple to record it. I was not long mixed with the school boys of a country village, before I acquired a taste for birdsnesting; a taste in the mind of an active and inquisitive boy, remarkably keen and powerful. At first, I did not think of rifling the nest; the discovery of an object so artfully concealed was abundant gratification; afterward the eggs, so beautifully colored and marked, became an overpowering temptation; while I satisfied myself in this trespass, by vowing I would never commit the greater offence of disturbing a nest of young and helpless birds. When I had advanced so far, I was anxious to divide this pursuit, as I did every other, with my sister; but could never succeed. Her discountenance made ine think, and whenever I thought about it I felt, it was a needless cruelty. It happened, however, in one of our rambles, that my eye fell upon a nest without seeking it. There were several young ones in it. I thought of nothing but showing them to my sister. I seized the nest. scrambled down through the bushes, and held it before her. She was not pleased, as I expected; she could not help admiring them; but the tear stood in her eyes; she blamed me, and entreated me to restore them. I assured her, as I believed, that the parent birds would never return to them, and that it would be cruel to expose them to starve. We, therefore, carried them home, determined to do our very best for their preservation. But the little creatures were now dependent on skilless though kind protectors. They languished and died; but her distress and her kindness, through this little event, made one of those deep impressions on my heart which contribute so largely to the formation of |