As the Divine Redeemer spent but the short period of three years in His public ministry, so has He appointed to many who have followed Him in the regeneration of this world, but a like brief span for toil and sorrow. It was so with respect to John Rowe. Before he had completed his third year of missionary work, he was unexpectedly visited with fever. His wife was at the same time also stricken; and so severe was the affliction, it was deemed necessary to nurse them in different rooms. It was supposed that, becoming conscious of the fatal nature of the attack, and aware of his approaching dissolution, Mr. Rowe vehemently desired to see and take leave of his afflicted wife. It was not deemed safe to comply with his request; so, watching his opportunity, he suddenly rushed to the door of the room where she lay. Entrance being prudently denied, before he could be led back to his bed he fell on his knees, and with clasped hands looked up to heaven, and while uttering a dolorous lamentation, he was speedily exhausted and suffocated by violent hemorrhage from the nose; he almost instantly expired, and leaving these scenes of woe, entered the presence of his Lord. Mrs. Rowe recovered, and was enabled to return home to Bristol by a prompt generosity and kind ness which evinced the high estimation in which her departed husband had been held. "Clouds and darkness are round about Him," is the frequent exclamation of God's servants, and indeed it seemed a dark and cloudy day as to our Jamaica Mission. Excelling as he did in the meek and lowly graces of Christ Jesus, it will probably be made manifest in the great day, that our first missionary truly prepared the way for the noble and intrepid men who, like Knibb labouring in the very same district, achieved more than Rowe had ever imagined possible within the term of a Jubilee. While a solitary labourer he entered as far as possible on the three main departments of missionary service, by preaching the Gospel, distributing the Scriptures, and teaching the young. Collateral work soon pressed upon Christ's servants, and Jamaica became the theatre of toils, trials, and sufferings, resulting in triumphs, which will render the island conspicuous to the end of time, in the page of history, as the scene of wondrous occurrences and signal displays of the arm of the Almighty. BEDD-DYDDIO.* THE above is the word used by the Welsh, from time immemorial, for bap tize. It is a compound of bedd-gravedyddio-the day dawns; for when a believer is baptized, the light of the resurrection shines from the tomb, both to himself and those that witness the joyful and solemn rite. God, that brought light out of the chaos at first, by the divine ordinance of baptism brings to life light, and immortality from the darkness of the tomb. I shall endeavour to give the reason for the origin of the word, and its use for eighteen centuries among the ancient Britons. It is a fact, as well substantiated by tradition as any uninspired history of * We do not think that this beautiful sketch will be thought by our readers any the less beautiful, on account of the somewhat fanciful form in which it is written. We fear we must add, notwithstanding the positiveness of the writer, that the evidence of Joseph's having visited Britain is very slight indeed. If such evidence exists, we have never met with it.-ED. མ equal antiquity, that the Gospel was preached in Britain in the year 63, by Joseph of Arimathea, who arrived on the coast of Cornwall in a Phoenician ship, whose merchants visited that part of the island to barter their fabrics for tin, which then, as now, abounded in that peninsula, and drew the attention of Oriental merchants to the place,-Joseph, that just and holy man, who showed so much love to the Son of God in the darkest period of His humiliation. He prepared fine linen and sweet spices for His burial, and laid the body that died for our sins in his own prepared grave. Jesus in life had no place of His own to lay His head, and in death He had no grave of His own to receive His body. Joseph was not unconcerned about the sacred deposit which he laid with so much tender care and affection in his own tomb. He could not long neglect a place where now his heart had so much tender interest. But, lo, what a change! The stone had been rolled away. The grave was empty, and the prisoner of death was honourably released. Joseph's hope, like that of the other disciples, was feeble before; but now it attained to a full assurance that Jesus was the Christ and the deliverer of Israel. Now Joseph's love constrained him to go to the ends of the earth (as Britain was then supposed to be) to preach Christ and the resurrection. As some of our poor benighted ancestors were gathered on the shore, bemoaning their sad condition, writhing now under the three severest scourges of heaven, sent to punish men for their sins-famine, pestilence, and the Roman sword, which had laid desolate all of that fair land-they found, as others have done, that the darkest hour is just before the dawn of the morning. As they were gazing on the blue sea, a ship hove in sight, with fair wind and swelling sails making for the shore. Some of them were greatly alarmed, fearing that another legion of the destroyer of their people were on their way to their shore. Do not," said another, "be alarmed,—she is a merchant ship seeking lawful traffic. I see the Phoenician flag floating on the breeze." Ah, little did they think of the immense 66 treasure she was bearing to their island, to enrich them and their posterity through all generations. The missionary of Jesus had no need at that early day to spend years to acquire the language of the Britons; and he began without delay to preach Christ and the resurrection as the Spirit gave him utterance. The first thing that impressed the minds of the people was a perfect astonishment to hear a stranger speak so clear and distinct the language of Gomer, which none but a native is fully able to articulate. This made them cry in deep surprise, "How hear we this stranger speak to us in our own tongue the wonderful works of God?" they took knowledge of him, that he was a messenger sent from God, to remove the gloom of sin from their benighted minds. He preached the Gospel which the Holy Ghost sent down from heaven, while the angels of God descended to witness the planting of the Tree of Life, where the Upas of sin had desolated the land so long. And Soon there was shaking, and sighing, and bitter weeping among the people, for the word was quick and powerful. It was a living word, that worked its way into the hearts and consciences of the multitudes, who in agony of spirit cried, "Sir, what shall we do to be saved?" Joseph was no stranger to such scenes, for he was at Jerusalem on the day of Pentecost, and knew the direction given there. He raised his voice, and said in the words of Peter, "Repent, and be baptized, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ, for the remission of sin, and ye shall receive the gift of the Holy Ghost." Then they that gladly received his word stood ready to be baptized. Let us follow the multitude to the shore, and witness the first fruits of Britain's Baptists. He that holds the winds in His fist, and treads upon the waves of the sea, said, "Peace, be still!" and there was a great calm. Now look at the venerable Arimathean, standing in the water, explaining to the people that lined the shore the meaning of that divine ordinance that he was about to administer. Stretching his hand over the element, he said, "This water is an emblem of death, to show that we must die unto sin, as many of you profess to be dead to it, and are ready to be buried with Christ in baptism; as you shall see me lay the believer gently in water, as I once laid the lifeless body of my dear Lord and yours in the grave." Here he paused awhile, for the holy emotion of his tender heart choked his utterance. He added, "As the yielding water forms an emblematic grave, so the believer is buried with Christ in his baptismal tomb. And when ye shall see me raise the subject from the watery grave, you will see an emblem of the resurrection of Christ, by the glory of the Father, and also of your rising to walk in newness of life here, and a pledge of a joyful rising from your gloomy grave at the last day." The grave to all heathen people affords not the least ray of light. It emits nothing but darkness and despair. Oh, how dark the tomb seemed to our benighted ancestors! No hope—not a ray of light ever-shone to them from the gloomy caverns wherein they laid their dead. Hence the bitter wailing of despair heard at their funerals. After the man of God had explained the signification of the ordinance in the ears of the people, he proceeded to perform it before their eyes. Every eye was open, and every ear was attentive. He took a believer by the hand, and said, slowly and solemnly, "My brother, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, I bury thee with Christ in baptism; and as Christ was raised from the dead, I raise thee from this symbolic grave as a pledge of thy resurrection at the last day." The Holy Spirit was present to bless the word and ordinance; and the people were moved and melted by his hallowed influence, as others have been on such occasions ten thousand times since; and the whole multitude cried in their native tongue, BEDD-DYDDIO. The grave, so dark and dismal to them before, was now lit up with the joyful light of the resurrection of life. I can almost hear them sing, as they retire from the water, Glory, glory to God, who brought to our eyes and hearts a flood of light from the darkness of the tomb! CHRIST ON BOARD. CHRIST be near thee! Christ upbear thet, Through all dangers, among strangers, Then the waves and winds may wrestle, Safely rides the labouring vessel, When the Saviour walks the wave. Though thine earnest need be sternest, And in darkness walks the storm, Drifting lonely, where One only Can outstretch His saving arm. When the Saviour's at the helm. Clouds may lighten, lips may whiten, Praying looks grow dark with dread; Sails may shiver, true hearts quiver, At death going overhead. Yet, though winds and waters wrestle, Safely rides the labouring vessel. When the Saviour's in the ship. Tales and Sketches. 66 "Nonsense, Henry! I say, joking apart, can you not in your wisdom"In my wisdom-very properly spoken." "Can you not in your wisdom, then, since you like the phrase so well, suggest some reason why those three words, 'Cold as charity,' should have passed into a proverb ?" Thus appealed to, Mr. Colburn, in the character of his wife's oracle, spoke as follows: "The word charity is, I think, improperly used here for alms-giving. Cold as alms-giving would be right, according to my version, though of course I may be wrong." "Cold as alms-giving, then," said Mrs. Colburn; "but again I ask the reason why? "And I answer you will see for yourself if you watch the next score of persons receiving alms who may happen to come under your notice; for nineteen out of twenty of these will be relieved as coldly as if there were no such thing as warmth of heart in all God's universe." Mrs. Colburn smiled. "You are severe," she remarked, as her husban d left the breakfast table, "but, for all that, I will do as you propose." As she said this, Mrs. Colburn drew a little nearer to the fire, arranged a screen, and prepared to enjoy an hour with her two pets a favourite greyhound, and a frolicsome black kitten, who had taken possession of the hearthrug during breakfast. A pleasant picture made that merry trio, as the lady, in her morning dress of crimson and white plaid, bent to watch the gambols of the graceful hound, and the comical, everrestless "Tricksy"-at least, so thought the lady's husband, when, equipped in great coat and muffler, he came in to say "Good morning." "You are looking so happy that I am almost tempted to let business take care of itself, and stay at home," he exclaimed, as he drew on his gloves. "You could read aloud, Jane, while I played with Fan and Tricksy." Mrs. Colburn laughed. "It would be just the other way about,” she remarked, as she took up her knitting. Then, with a glance through the window at the snow-covered landscape, "How I pity you, going out on this frosty morning, Henry!" Save your pity," replied her husband, smiling, "for the half-cloth d and starving poor!" "I can feel for them also, and I do with all my heart?" "Are you sure it is with all your heart." "Yes, I think so, although you may doubt it," was the reply. "I understand your smile, but I am not quite so indifferent as you suppose. It is New Year's Day, and I shall send one of the servants with a present of tea or something to all the poor people whom I know. You are smiling again-what on earth would you have me do? I subscribed to the soup-kitchen and the other Christmas things, as you directed, and what more would you have?" "What more indeed!" replied the husband, gravely. "As the proverb has it-cold as charity." "Do you mean to say that I give coldly?" "Well, I think so, for you always give by proxy, never taking the trouble to visit the poor yourself, or to see them when they come to you for assistance; in short, acting as if they were incapable of appreciating the kind word, the gentle touch, the look of love, which in your own rank, like God's trial of our faith-is rightly held to be more precious than 'gold which perisheth.' 66 And you think that I ought to go to all these people myself?" asked the lady, in blank astonishment. "Not to all, but to many, for your own sake as well as theirs." "How for my own sake?" "Because Christ has said, 'Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these, ye have done it unto me.'" "But if I give Mary the money, and send her, it is just the same." "Not at all, for these things demand no sacrifice from you. Do we give up a single luxury in order that we may give money to the poor? And if Mary takes real pleasure in her mission, doing it for Jesus' sake, will it not be to her, rather than you, that He will say at last, "I was hungry and ye gave me meat, I was thirsty and ye gave me drink, I was a stranger and ye took me in, naked and ye clothed me, sick and in prison, and ye came unto me'?" She Mrs. Colburn made no reply. had for some years been professedly a followe of Him who "went about doing good," but whether she was or was not a true disciple had been a doubtful question, even with some of the most charitable of her friends. Educated in a southern clime, and early committed to the care of a too-indulgent guardian, she had acquired such habits of slothful self-indulgence as only long years of prayerful effort could eradicate. That the root of the matter was her want of vital godliness had been of late the conviction of her husband's mind, and as he left his home that morning an earnest prayer that her meditations might be guided by the Spirit of God himself, arose to heaven. Mr. Colburn was far too conscious of his own defects to think harshly of those of other people, but he saw with pain that his wife's indolence was gaining ground, and he longed to be made the instrument of her rescue from its chain. Are there not many in our churches who, like Mrs. Colburn, systematically bestow alms by proxy?-many who, from a sense of duty, or desire to shine in the eyes of their fellow-men, send or give their money to deserving persons in their neighbourhood, but decline to make one personal effort, or to show by word or sign that they help the sick and suffering in a spirit of love and for Christ's sake? To go further-are there not some amongst us who despise the poor, and who think it beneath their dignity to smooth the pillow or to wipe away the tears of the dying? If it were not so, happy indeed would be the condition of our people, for in true ministry to the afflicted, charity in its highest meaning, is made manifest, even that Christ-like love to God and man, without which our profession is, at best, but "sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal." 66 On that New Year's evening, and some two hours earlier than his wont, Mr. Colburn left his office, and walked briskly towards that part of the town of Rwhich was chiefly inhabited by the labouring poor. As his object in doing this was to inquire for one of his porters, a humble Christian who had been for some time seriously ill, he carried with him a large parcel containing what he called his New Year's gift" for the poor sufferer. Everything in this parcel had been purchased with a motive, and the whole had cost Mr. Colburn at least twenty minutes of his valuable time. For this reason, perhaps, or, possibly, for one still higher, the merchant's face glowed with satisfaction as he crossed the threshold of the sick man's room, and, hearing a sound of voices behind the curtain, inquired cheerily if he might |