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tion, and is now nearly finished. I like to find myself employed usefully, in a way I did not expect or foresee, especially if my own will is in any degree crossed by the work unexpectedly assigned me; as there is then reason to believe that God is acting. The present year will probably be a perilous one; but my life is of little consequence, whether I live to finish the Persian New Testament, or do not. I look back with pity and shame upon my former self, when I attached importance to my life and labours. The more I see of my works, the more I am ashamed of them. Coarseness and clumsiness mar all the works of man. I am sick, when I look at man, and his wisdom, and his doings; and am relieved only by reflecting, that we have a city, whose builder and maker is God. The least of His works here it is refreshing to look at. A dried leaf, or a straw, makes me feel myself in good company complacency and admiration take place of disgust."

On the 24th day of May, one year after entering Persia, Mr Martyn quitted Shiraz to reach Tebriz, in hopes of there obtaining such an introduction from our ambassador, as might give him free access to the throne of the Monarch, to whom he designed in person to present his Persian New Testament.

During his journey to Tebriz he encountered many hardships, with much neglect and rudeness from some of the authorities of the places through which he passed. His frame continued greatly to suffer from repeated attacks of fever, so that on his arrival at Tebriz he appeared in the last stages of debility and exhaustion. After a violent fever of nearly two months' duration, he left Tebriz, with a hope, if such in his circumstances it might be called, of getting to England.

It should be recorded, to the honour of Sir Gore Ouseley, our ambassador to the court of Persia, and his lady, that nothing could exceed the kindness which they manifested towards this interesting wanderer in his hours of need and debility. The following letter is the last which he is known to have written.

"I wrote to you last , in great disorder. My fever had approached nearly to delirium, and my debility was so great, that it seemed impossible I could withstand the power of the disease many days. Yet it has pleased God to restore me to life and health again: not that I have recovered my former strength yet, but consider myself sufficiently restored to prosecute my journey. My daily prayer is, that my late chastisement may have its intended effect, and niake me, all the rest of my days, more humble and less self-confident. Self-confidence has often let me down fearful lengths, and would, without God's gracious interference, prove my endless perdition. I seem to be made to feel this evil of my heart, more than any other, at this time. In prayer, or when I write or converse on the subject

Christ appears to me my life and strength; but, at other times, I am thoughtless and bold, as if I had all life and strength in myself. Such neglects, on our part, are a diminution of our joys; but the Covenant! the Covenant, stands fast with Him for his people evermore. I mentioned my conversing sometimes on divine subjects. In these I am sometimes led on by the Soofi-Persians, and tell them all I know of the very recesses of the Sanctuary. But to give an account of all my discussions with these mystic philosophers must be reserved to the time of our meeting. Do I dream, that I venture to think and write of such an event as that? Is it possible that we shall ever meet again below? Though it is possible, I dare not indulge. such a pleasing hope.

"In three days I intend setting my horse's head towards Constantinople, distant about 1300 miles. Nothing, I think, will occasion any further detention here, if I can procure servants who know both Persian and Turkish. Ignorant as I am of Turkish, should I be taken ill on the road, my case would be pitiable indeed. The ambassador and his suite are still here; his and Lady Ouseley's attentions to me, during my illness, have been unremitted. The Prince Abbas Mirza, the wisest of the king's sons, and heir to the throne, was here some time after my arrival. I much wished to present a copy of the Persian New Testament to him, but I could not rise from my bed. The book, however, will be given to him* by the ambassador. Public curiosity about the Gospel, now for the first time, in the memory of the modern Persians, introduced into the country, is a good deal excited here and at Shiraz, and at other places; so that, upon the whole, I am thankful at having been led hither and detained, though my residence in this country has been attended with many unpleasant circumstances. The way of the Kings of the East is preparing thus much may be said with safety, but little more. The Persians also will probably

take the lead in the march to Sion."

:

We should have been happy to have made several extracts from his journal in this last sad journey from Tebriz towards Constantinople. But we have already transgressed the bounds which we had prescribed to ourselves. We will therefore con

clude our narrative with one extract more, which records his sufferings, from the cruelty of a Tartar of the name of Hasan Aga, to whose guidance he had been consigned; and which conveys to us his last aspirations for a brighter and better inheri

*“ Sir Gore Ouseley presented Mr Martyn's New Testament to the King of Persia, who, in a public rescript, expressed his approbation of the work. He also carried the MS. to St Petersburgh, where, under his superintendance, it was printed and put into circulation."

tance, before the cord was cut which detained him from it. This passage is of the deepest pathos, and most tragic interest.

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"October 2d.-Some hours before day, sent to tell the Tartar I was ready; but Hasan Aga was for once riveted to his bed. However, at eight, having got strong horses he set off at a great rate, and over the level ground he made us gallop as fast as the horses would go, to Chiflick, where we arrived at sunset. I was lodged, at my request, in the stable of the posthouse, not liking the scrutinizing impudence of the fellows who frequent the coffee-room. As soon as it began to grow a little cold, the ague came on, and then the fever; after which I had a sleep, that let me know too plainly the disorder of my frame. "In the night, Hasan sent to summon me away, but I was quite unable to move. Finding me still in bed at the dawn, he began to storm furiously at my detaining him so long; but I quietly let him spend his ire, ate my breakfast composedly, and set out at eight. He seemed determined to make up for the delay; for we flew over hill and vale to Sheream, where he changed horses. From thence we travelled all the rest of the day and all night: it rained most of the time. Soon after sunset the ague came on again, which, in my wet state, was very trying: I hardly knew how to keep my life in me. About that time there was a village at hand-but Hasan had no mercy. At one in the morning, we found two men under a wain, with a good fire; they could not keep the rain out, but their fire was acceptable. I dried my lower extremities, allayed the fever by drinking a good deal of water, and went on. We had little rain, but the night was pitchy dark, so that I could not see where the road was under my horse's feet. However, God being mercifully pleased to alleviate my bodily sufferings, I went on contentedly to the munzil, where we arrived at break of day. After sleeping three or four hours, I was visited by an Armenian merchant, for whom I had a letter. Hasan was in great fear of being arrested here: the governor of the city had vowed to make an example of him, for riding to death a horse belonging to a man of this place. He begged that I would shelter him, in case of danger; his being claimed by an Englishman, he said, would be a sufficient security. I found, however, that I had no occasion to interfere. He hurried me away from this place without delay, and galloped furiously towards a village, which, he said, was four hours distance, which was all I could undertake in my present weak state but village after village, did he pass, till night coming on, and no signs of another, I suspected that he was carrying me on to the munzil; so I got off my horse, and sat upon the ground, and told him, I neither could nor would go any further.' He stormed, but I was unmoveable, till a light appearing at a distance, I mount

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ed my horse, and made towards it, leaving him to follow, or not, as he pleased. He brought in the party, but would not exert himself to get a place for me. They brought me to an open veranda, but Sergius told them I wanted a place in which to be alone. This seemed very offensive to them. • And why must he be alone?' they asked; ascribing this desire of mine to pride, I suppose. Tempted, at last, by money, they brought me to a stable-room, and Hasan and a number of others planted themselves there with me. My fever here increased to a violent degree; the heat in my eyes and forehead was so great, that the fire almost made me frantic. I entreated that it might be put out, or that I might be carried out of doors. Neither was attended to: my servant, who, from my sitting in that strange way on the ground, believed me delirious, was deaf to all I said. At last I pushed my head in among the luggage, and lodged it on the damp ground, and slept.

"5th.-Preserving mercy made me see the light of another morning. The sleep had refreshed me, but I was feeble and shaken; yet the merciless Hasan hurried me off. The munzil, however, being not distant, I reached it without much difficulty. I expected to have found it another strong fort at the end of the pass, but it is a poor little village, within the jaws of the mountains. I was pretty well lodged, and tolerably well till a little after sunset, when the ague came on with a violence I never before experienced. I felt as if in a palsy, my teeth chattering, and my whole frame violently shaken. Aga Hosyn and another Persian, on their way here from Constantinople, going to Abbas Mirza, whom I had just before been visiting, came hastily to render me assistance if they could. These Persians appear quite brotherly, after the Turks. While they pitied, Hasan sat with perfect indifference, ruminating on the further delay this was likely to occasion. The cold fit, after continuing two or three hours, was followed by a fever, which lasted the whole night, and prevented sleep.

"6th.-No horses being to be had, I had an unexpected repose. I sat in the orchard, and thought, with sweet comfort and peace, of my God; in solitude-my company, my friend, and comforter! O! when shall time give place to eternity! When shall appear that new heaven and new earth wherein dwelleth righteousness! There-there shall in no wise enter in any thing that defileth: none of that wickedness that has made men worse than wild beasts-none of those corruptions,' that add still more to the miseries of mortality, shall be seen or heard of any more."

Scarcely had Mr Martyn breathed these holy desires after the "rest which remaineth to the people of God," than he was translated to the world, on the verge of which he had so long.

stood. He died at Tocat, about the 16th of October, 1812, either of the plague, or of the disorder, whose ravages in his constitution, are so painfully recorded in the above quotation.

TO THE EDITOR OF THE CHRISTIAN HERALD.

SIR,

In lately looking over the pages of the Glasgow Herald, for August 28. 1818, I fell in with the following curious paragraph, on which I intend, with your leave, to make a few re

marks.

"At the assizes for Carlisle, the Sheriff's Chaplain alluded in his Sermon, to the professions of happiness sometimes made by criminals at their execution.-Is it decent in the criminals, (said he), or safe to the spectators, that the condemned felon on the scaffold, should, instead of shame and contrition, express joy and exultation, like a martyr for religion? God forbid that we should deny, or disbelieve, the power of God to extend mercy to those, who could have no other hope but in the forbearance and goodness of God. But, when the best work out their salvation with fear and trembling; when the wisest and best moralists quit life with deep-felt awe of the purity of God; is it natural, is it reasonable, is it consistent with religion and truth, that one who, if saved, is as a brand plucked out of the fire, should express full confidence in his salvation? A life of laborious and consistent virtue, is scarcely able to support the confidence of a good man at the hour of death. Shall then the blood-stained victim of human justice; shall he who is ushered into eternity reeking with the blood of his brother, pretend to the song of triumph and joy in God ?”

I admit that expressions of joy and hope in the prospect of death is no evidence of the safety of the person's state. There is only one foundation of hope divinely appointed for Adam's fallen race-the death of Jesus Christ, and only that hope and joy which arise from the knowledge and belief of this divine foundation, are scriptural and safe. But it is very evident that not only in life, but in death, men are much disposed to betake themselves to " refuges of lies," and that Satan and his ministers have, in every age, been active and ingenious, in rearing such refuges to entrap deluded souls! Hence, men may, and often do, say peace, peace, when there is no peace." mit also, that when a sinner, professing to believe the gospel, instead of shame and contrition, expresses joy and exultation, he is deceiving himself. There is nothing more evident than that the belief of the doctrine of reconciliation through the death of

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