AN INFIDEL IN INDIA.

THE REV. J. Statham, an excellent Baptist minister in England, who was for some years a Missionary, in his "Indian Recollections" relates the following account, which is awfully illustrative of the folly of neglecting the Scriptures.

It was about the middle of July, after a most sultry day, when, unable to sleep, I had taken a turn backwards and forwards in the verandah of my dwelling at Gusserah, and was about to retire once more to seek repose, when my attention was engaged by an unusual noise at the ghaut before me, and presently I heard a gruff voice calling out, "House, a-hoy! House, a-hoy!" Looking out, I inquired what was wanted; when two sailors approached, and said, "Your honór, are you the minister that preaches in the place below?" I said, "Yes, my good friend; what is your pleasure with me?" "Why, if your honor will just come and say a bit of prayer to our chief mate, it will be a charity, for he is sadly taken aback, and we don't think he'll ever get out of his berth again."' "Did he request you to come for me?" No, your honor. He does nothing but groan, and rave about hell and such things: but the second mate thinks a bit of prayer or so would do him good." "Will not the morning be a better time to visit him, think ye?" "Why, it may be he will not see the morning, we are thinking, your honor." "Well, then," said I, "it shall be as you wish; I will go with you." In a few minutes I was seated in the stern of the captain's cutter, and six sturdy hands soon brought me alongside a large vessel at anchor in the middle of the stream. There was something peculiarly solemn and impressive in the scene: the time was midnight, all around was still and calm, save the rippling of the water, and the noise occasioned by the pacing of the watch on deck, and the heart-rending groans which were uttered by the sick man; these at intervals had reached my ears during our way to the ship, and when I mounted the gangway, were very loud indeed. The second mate met me on the quarter-deck, and stated, that the chief mate was pronounced by the doctors to be in a dying condition; and that, as his mind seemed to be in the most distressing state of alarm, he had sent for me at this unseasonable hour to see if any consolation could be administered to him. I told him that no time was unseasonable to me, and begged he would immediately conduct me to the dying man. For the sake of air, his cot was slung in the cuddy, and several persons surrounded it, apparently endeavoring to soothe his mind; but, alas! in vain. When informed who I was, he eagerly stretched forth his hand, and

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grasping mine with strength, said, "Dear sir, pray for me; pray for me !" I begged him to be calm, and said, "I will pray for you, but let me beseech you not to waste your breath in vain exclamations and lamentations: pray for yourself; I will offer prayer-you must join with me.” Oh, no, sir, I cannot pray--my God! I never have prayed: nó, sir, I never shall pray. I feel I cannot-I cannot-I am lost-I am lost; oh, that I had never been born!" I entreated him not to indulge in such a strain. I pointed out the value of the atoning blood of Christ : told him of the willingness of Jesus to save the vilest of the vile; told him of the dying thief; in short, all that I could possibly say to encourage a hope of salvation I did say; but he would still cry out, Sir, this is not for me. I am lost! My father is in heaven. My mother will be there. I broke my father's heart. I despised their prayers, their counsel, and their entreaties, and now I cannot hope, I cannot hope." I began to read the Scriptures. He stopped me, saying, "Pray for me directly." I prayed; but, alas! every petition for mercy seemed only to aggravate his misery, and I could not proceed for his groans and cries. In this awful state he continued till about three o'clock in the morning, when he appeared to be more calm for about five minutes, during which period he seemed to listen very attentively to my words; but just as I was kneeling down to pray again, he started up in his cot, and looking fearfully around, grasped my hand with all the energy and convulsive power of a drowning man, and, wildly shrieking and falling backwards, expired in agony indescribable. What my feelings were, can be more easily conceived than told.' I spoke seriously to all present on the vast importance of being prepared to die; pointed out the only means of salvation, and exhorted them to take warning how they despised the word of God, or the counsel of parents or friends. Just as I was leaving the ship, the captain, who had been sent for from some distance, arrived. He appeared to be much affected at the intelligence, and expressed his gratitude for my coming. From him I learned that the deceased was the son of pious parents, and hd great talents, but, unfortunately, had in his youth become acquainted with a company of rich profligates, and had (by keeping pace with them in their extravagance) brought his parents nearly to ruin; and this had so preyed upon the mind of his father, that he died quite broken-hearted. The captain thought the infidel principles the son had imbibed, were the great source of sorrow, rather than the loss of property. The remains of this unhappy man were consigned to the house appointed for all living on the afternoon of the same day; and the address then given was the means, under the Divine blessing, of the reformation of one of the many persons who attended at the grave.

MEMORIES OF THE BRITISH METROPOLIS.-No. III.

In our last, we parted company with the reader in Pall Mall, near the house once occupied by the "blind old master of English verse." We forgot to mention when passing St. James' Palace, the two palatial edifices-Bridgewater House and Stafford House. The former is the town residence of the Earl of Ellesmere, whose rare collection of pictures by Caracci and other great painters, are so justly celebrated. The Chundos portrait of Shakspeare also enriches the picture gallery. Stafford House, the residence of the Duke of Sutherland, is also a most superb structure; it cost £200,000 in erection. Bridgewater House was built by Barry, the architect of the new Houses of Parliament. Lord Spencer's house, in St. James' Place, is most remarkable for the magnificent library it contains-it being singularly rich in rare and curious bibliography-almost unsurpassed indeed in this respect. The Vatican boasts of its treasured relics of centuries; but England possesses the collective resources of genius and learning. London has been styled the birth-place of genius-here the poet has sung his sweetest strains-the historian and philosopher solved the deep problems of truth-it was here a Milton produced the sublimest of all uninspired compositions-a Shakspeare portrayed with such masterly power, the workings of the human heart-here, too, ideal art has depicted in glowing colors and with startling effect, the images of the soul, and not least though last, the mighty minds of old, who have contended for the truth of a pure Christianity. We shall now briefly notice that venerable pile-Westminster Abbey. This imposing structure by Sebert, founded in the sixth century, is said to be on the ruins of a temple of Apollo, and was restored by Edgar in 969, and re-erected by Edward the Confessor 1065. He devoted one-tenth of his property to its erection: subsequent monarchs still further enriched the stately edifice, and Henry VII. added at the eastern extremity, the gorgeous chapel bearing his name. For elaborate richness of ornament, this beautiful chapel surpasses any specimen of the florid gothic in the world. The entire length of Westminster Abbey, measures five hundred and thirty feet, length of transept two hundred and fourteen feet, and the height nearly one hundred and fifty feet. This vast mausoleum-the final resting place of sovereigns, statesmen, poets, warriors and divines, presents an object of the most intense interest. The eastern end of the Abbey is surrounded by upwards of a dozen chapelries, and Henry the Seventh's chapel. Viewed from the western or grand entrance, the scene presented is one of most imposing

grandeur. The prodigious altitude of the groined roof, the magnitude of the arches, and the ærial loftiness of the vaulted aisles, all tend to impress the beholder with a feeling of religious awe and amazement. The numer ous mural monuments and tombs so thickly clustered about the sacred en. closure, invest this renowned temple with rare attractions and interest. The Poets' Corner' is profusely studded with these shrines of genius; here may be seen the monuments to the memory of Shakspeare, Spenser, Ben Johnson, Chaucer, Milton, Cowper, Gay, Blain, Goldsmith, Dryden, Addison, and hosts of other illustrious names that have adorned the brightest pages of English history. In the centre of Henry the Seventh's chapel, are the magnificently decorated shrines, elaborately cut in brass, of the rival queens, Mary and Elizabeth, whose remains now repose peacefully side by side. As one gazes upon these mementoes of the departed, the heart is moved with sympathy for the hapless fate of the lovely and unfortunate victim of the fierce envy and ambition of her 'tyrannical' oppressor. The stalls of this magnificent chapel, are richly carved in oak; over which hang the ancient banners of the knights of the Bath, apparently ready to crumble to pieces from age. The gorgeous fret-work of the roof, so richly carved, baffles description; the whole must be seen to be duly appreciated. In the vicinity may also be seen the tombs of Edward the Confessor and his queen, Henry III, Edward I, and his wife Eleanor, Edward III, Richard II, Henry VII, Edward V, and the Duke of York, the two princes who were murdered in the Tower, Charles II, William III and Mary, George Villers, Duke of Buckingham, Chatham, Halifax, Mansfield, Grattan, Canning, Pitt, Fox, Sheridan, Wilberforce, Monk, Duke of Albemarle, who restored the monarchy, and those who fought for it, Howe, Warren, Wolfe, Eyre, and Sir Cloudesley Shovel; also Handel, Busby, Kemble, Kneller, Camden Barrow, and others too numerous to be recited here.

Many an enchanted hour have we lingered within those cloistered aisles, listening with rapt and thrilling emotion to the solemn, swelling peals of the organ, as they reverberated among the lofty arches. Like all such edifices, Westminster Abbey is to be viewed to the greatest advantage by moonlight, or at twilight; it is then its mouldering, reverent, and dark walls, look most imposing and grand. During winter, when the afternoon service is performed in twilight, the central enclosure devoted to the purpose is lighted by long wax tapers, and the choristers, deacons and prebends, dressed in white robes, present a striking contrast with the deep shadows of the dim and lofty arches, and

"Those storied windows richly 'dight,.

Shedding a dim religious light."

It is then also that the grotesque effigies and sculptured busts there present a most startling effect, as seen dimly standing out from the walls. In a word, and that a borrowed one-we may sum up ali by saying that in visiting this magnificent pile, the eye is astonished by the pomp of its architecture and the elaborate beauty of its sculptured detail.

It will be recollected that the coronation of the Sovereigns of England takes place within the Abbey, on which occasion it is splendidly decorated. The coronation chair is a rare specimen of the barbaric age, and was brought by Edward I. from Scotland, in 1296.

But we have omitted to mention Buckingham Palace, the Queen's metropolitan residence. This stately structure is of the Grecian order, and of truly royal dimensions. The grounds adjacent, comprise about forty acres, five of which are devoted to a lake. The eastern front of the Palace overlooks St. James' Park. This magnificent edifice was built under the auspices of George IV. in 1825. It was formerly called Arlington House, which was bought by the Duke of Buckingham, (the patron of Dryden.) The palace was not occupied as a royal residence till the accession of her present Majesty. In 1846 some additions were made in the east side, which cost £150,000. The chief rooms are-the. Throne Room, having a marble frieze-the Green Drawing Room-the Sculpture Gallery and Library-the Ball Room, etc. The collection of paintings, principally of the Dutch and Flemish schools, collected by George IV. is very extensive, and of high merit. Returning through St. James' Park, we reach the Horse Guards, opposite to which is Whitehall Chapel, from one of the windows of which Charles First was led to the block-the equestrian statue of the ill-fated monarch still remains at Charing Cross. Charing Cross, derives its name from the ancient village of Charing, when the city of London was only a few miles in circumference. Northumberland House is situated at the junction of the Strand and Charing Cross. It is an immense structure, enclosed with a large court-yard.. The National Gallery, in Trafalgar Square, contains the national pictures, mostly by the old masters. The collection was commenced by order of Parliament in 1824, with the purchase of the Angerstein Gallery, which cost £57,000. This collection comprised only thirty-eight pictures. Several other grants and purchases have been since added, the last of which consisted of one hundred and sixtytwo pictures, known as the Vernon collection. These were presented to the nation by Mr. Vernon. Paintings by most of the great names in art, grace this superb collection. From Morley's Hotel, Trafalgar Square, may be seen the Nelson Monument, the statues, fountains, the fine portico of the National Gallery, St. Martin's church, Northumber