CHRISTIAN, WHERE'S YOUR SHIELD? she is sorrowful and unhappy, and, like the holy woman of the same name, she should no longer be called Naomi" (or pleasant), "but she should be called Marah" (or bitter). Here the old man was so affected, that he ceased for a moment: then addressing his daughter, and calling her to him, "Naomi," said he, "come near to thy father, and relate to our guests thy misfortunes, and those of thy brothers." She sat down near her father, and, raising her voice, "A long time back," said she, "it was predicted that the town of Laghonat should fall under the power of a foreign people. Adonaï sometimes grants the gift of prophecy to men born out of Israel, as in times past he granted it to Balaam; and a hundred and thirty years have already past since an Arab, a Mohammedan Priest, predicted the fall of this city.* Perhaps, had we redoubled our piety, had we prayed and fasted often, to appease the anger of Adonaï, our houses would not now be in ruins, nor our holy books destroyed, and Naomi would not be the most miserable of women." After this exclamation, Naomi stopped to give vent to her tears; and when she had recovered from her emotion, she related how that, although only comparatively happy under the dominion of the Arabs, since they did not enjoy the same rights as the latter, the Israelites of Laghonat were at least tranquil in their misfortunes, sheltered from all attacks, and able to exercise their worship, and to gain their bread by labour; but the French, having penetrated into Laghonat in the seventh month, a few days before the feast of Hanucah, by the western gate of the city, near which dwelt almost all the Jews, it was on them that, all at once, the fury of the soldiers, besotted by victory, descended. The Israelites had hoped that, deprived of arms and strangers to warfare, on which the Arabs were sustained, they should be spared by the French. Notwithstanding, three women were mutilated, slain, and despoiled of their jewels. Many men fell: others fled with their • This prophecy, transmitted from mouth to mouth for some years, is known to all the natives of Laghonat. VOL. I.-Second Series. 17 families to the neighbouring tribes. Among the victims, Naomi recognised Jonathan, her husband, to whom she had been united hardly a year, and whom she loved as the apple of her eye. Jonathan was the most beautiful of the Israelites of Laghonat, the most skilful of workmen, at the same time that he was a pious man, and an excellent Talmudist. At the sight of the blood which flowed from the wounds of Jonathan, who yet lived, Naomi threw herself at the feet of the native soldier who held the sword suspended over her husband, but neither her prayers nor her tears could stay the hand of the ferocious conqueror. Jonathan was slain, and the spectacle of his mangled body threw Naomi into a state of the most profound despair. She became melancholy and silent, refusing all consolation, and no longer mingling in any of the gaiety or occupations of her sisters. She made a vow never to marry again; no one was worthy in her eyes to succeed to the pious Jonathan; and once a month did she, with her infant, repair to the tomb of her husband, there to bewail his loss, and to promise eternal fidelity to him. From the day in which she witnessed the death of Jonathan, she had never been able to look upon a Frenchman without trembling with terror, imagining that all the French were as cruel as the Arab soldier, whose fury she was unable to arrest. She never quitted the house of Elihu, excepting on those days when she went to the cemetery; but passed her time in spinning wool, in attending to her beloved infant, and comforting the old age of her parents.Archives Israelites. CHRISTIAN, WHERE'S YOUR How often are we pained to see and hear of our fellow-soldiers in the Christian warfare being weary, being suddenly overtaken in a fault, being led captive by Satan our grand adversary! How is it? What is the reason of all these sad mishaps, which bring reproach on ourselves, and on the Captain of our salvation? There must be some cause. Perhaps we can show what it is. Often when reading C Homer's "Iliad" we have gazed on the cuts, and observed the Trojan and Grecian warriors to have their shields cast behind their backs when not engaged in actual warfare. We read that this was their practice. Their enemies were not always at hand, and their shields were not always needed. “Surely,” have we thought, "this must be the manner in which some Christian soldiers are acting when they are suddenly taken captive by Satan. They must have cast their shields behind their backs, forgetting that their adversaries never sleep!" Is it not so? Say, careless Christian! Yes; you know it is. Your shield is a shield of faith; that faith which lays hold on the Saviour, and lays claim to His merit for acceptance with the Father; that faith which unites you to Christ. So long as that shield of faith is in use, so long, and no longer, will you be safe. If faith draws you to the Saviour, unites you to Him, and you recline on His beloved bosom, Satan may roar as he pleases, may cast forth as many poisoned arrows as he pleases, but not one will touch you. "Whilst folded in the Saviour's arms, You're safe from every snare." O, then, take good heed where your shield is! Remember, your threefold enemy-the world, the flesh, and the devil-never sleeps. Yours must be a continual warfare: you will have no opportunity for casting your shield over your shoulder. If you do so, a mortal wound may be struck before you are aware of it. Forgot not that you are in an enemy's land, and encompassed by enemies: they are on every side. Be vigilant: let your faith in the Saviour be strong and unwavering. When St. Paul exhorts his fellowsoldiers in Ephesus to "put on the whole armour of God," and mentions each part of that armour, he lays special stress on the shield, knowing that to be of supreme importance. He says, "Above all, taking the shield of faith, where with ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked." Your shield is not like the Grecian's, made of iron or brass overlaid with seven bull-hides: no; it is one through which no dart can possibly enter, though wielded by the arm of the most skilled and mighty of enemies. Up, then, Christian! up with your shield; and never, never think of casting it behind your back. Say, with the poet, in prayer, "Give me on Thee to call, Always to watch and pray, BISHOP ASBURY. BISHOP ASBURY came to this campmeeting on Saturday, in company with his travelling companion, the Rev. J. W. Bond. No sooner was it known that he had arrived, than there was a general move toward him. All seemed to be anxious to see a Bishop; and they pressed around him so closely that it was difficult to get him into the Preachers' tent. After he was housed, the people crowded round the door by hundreds. He remarked to me, on witnessing the curiosity of the people, "You might as well have an elephant in your camp as have me." It seemed to annoy him, to have them gazing at him in such numbers; and, to relieve him, I requested them to retire from the tent, and the Bishop would preach for them, perhaps, the next day, when they could all have an opportunity of seeing and hearing him. Brother Bond, his travelling companion, desiring to visit his friends at Urbana, I took charge of the Bishop, and made him as comfortable as circumstances would allow. On Sunday the Bishop preached; and the vast concourse had an opportunity of judging for themselves in regard to the ability of the Methodist Prelate. That day the Gospel was preached in demonstration of the Spirit and power of God. During the meeting many were converted, and joined the church. At the close of the meeting I started, with the Bishop, for Springfield, where we arrived Tuesday afternoon. We stopped with a Methodist family. As we passed through the parlours, we saw the daughter and some other young ladies dressed very gaily. The daughter was playing on the MORAVIAN MARTYRS. piano; and as we moved through the room we doubtless elicited from those fashionable young ladies some remarks about the rusticity of our appearance; and the wonder was doubtless excited, where on earth could these old country codgers have come from? The Bishop took his seat; and presently in came the father and mother of the young lady. They spoke to the Bishop; and then followed the grandfather and grandmother. When the old lady took the Bishop by the hand, he held it; and, looking her in the face, while the tear dropped from his eye, he said, “I was looking to see if I could trace in the lineaments of your face the likeness of your sainted mother. She belonged to the first generation of Methodists. She lived a holy life, and died a most happy and triumphant death. You," said the Bishop, "and your husband belong to the second generation of Methodists; your son and his wife are the third; and that young girl, your grandaughter, represents the fourth. She has learned to dress and play on the piano, and is versed in all the arts of fashionable life; and I presume, at this rate of progress, the fifth generation of Methodists will be sent to dancing-school." This was a solemn reproof, and it had a powerful effect upon the grandparents. The first Methodists were a peculiar people in their personal appearance and manners, and could be distinguished from the world at a single glance. Their self-denial led them to the abandonment of all the lusts of the flesh. They were simple-hearted, single-eyed, humble, and devoted followers of the Saviour. They loved God devotedly, and one another with pure hearts fervently; and though scoffed at by the world, hated and persecuted by the devil, they witnessed a good profession of godliness and faith.-Rev. J. B. Finley. MORAVIAN MARTYRS. 19 quenched by the snows of Lapland, and whose energy braves the burning sands of Arabia and Africa, had penetrated these western wilds before the white man had made his settlement, and had succeeded in establishing Missions on the Tuscarawas, among the Delaware Indians. They had three Stations on the river; namely, Gnadenhutten, Shoenbrun, and Salem. These villages were occupied by the Indians, all of whom had become Christianised, and were peacefully engaged in the various pursuits of civilisation. Several depredations having been committed by hostile Indians, about the time of which I am writing, on the frontier inhabitants of western Pennsylvania and Virginia, they determined to retaliate; and a company of one hundred men was raised, and placed under the command of Colonel Williamson, as a corps of volunteer militia. They set out for the Moravian towns on the Tuscarawas river, and arrived within a mile of Gnadenhutten on the night of the 5th of March. On the morning of the 6th, finding the Indians at work in their corn-field on the west bank of the river, sixteen of Williamson's men crossed over, two at a time, in a large sugar-trough, taking their rifles with them. The remainder went into the village, where they found an Indian and equaw, both of whom they killed. The sixteen on the west side, on approaching the Indians, found them more numerous than they had anticipated. The Indians had their arms with them, which they carried not only for purposes of protection, but for killing game. The whites accosted them kindly, telling them that they had come for the purpose of taking them to a place where in future they would be protected in safety, no longer to be startled by the rude alarm of angry foes. They advised them to quit work, and go with them to Fort Pitt. Some of the tribe had been taken to that place in the preceding year, and were treated with great kindness by their white neighbours, and especially the Governor of the fort, and returned to their homes with tokens of friendship and kindness. Under such circumstances, it was not surprising that the innocent and unsuspecting Moravian Indians surrendered their arms, and at ONE of the most tragical events ever recorded, (says an American Minister, the Rev. J. B. Finley,) occurred within the bounds of this Circuit, at the village of Gnadenhutten, March 8th, 1782. The Moravian Missionaries, whose zeal is un- once consented to place themselves under c 2 the protection and control of Williamson and his men. An Indian messenger was dispatched to Salem, for the purpose of apprising their brethren of the arrangement; and then both companies returned to Gnadenhutten. On reaching the village, a number of mounted militia started for the Salem settlement; but ere they reached it, so great was the dispatch of the messenger, that they found the Moravian Indians at that place had already left their corn-fields, and were on the road to join their brethren at Gnadenhutten. Measures had been previously adopted to secure the Indians whom they had at first decoyed into their power; and accordingly they were bound, and confined in two houses, securely guarded. On the arrival of the Indians from Salem, their arms having been secured without any suspicion of their hostile intentions, they were at once seized, fettered, and divided between the two prison-houses; the males in one, and the females in the other. The number thus confined in both houses, including men, women, and children, amounted to from ninety to one hundred. A council was then held to determine how the Moravian Indians should be disposed of. This self-constituted military court consisted of both officers and privates. Williamson put the question whether the Indians should be taken, prisoners, to Fort Pitt, or put to death; requesting those who were in favour of saving their lives, to march out of rank, and form a second rank in advance. Only eighteen, out of the whole number, stepped out as the advocates of mercy. In these the feelings of humanity prevailed; but in the others, constituting the large majority, humanity and justice were utterly extinct. They had deliberately come to the conclusion to murder the whole of the Christian Indians in their power. Among the doomed were several who had contributed to aid the Missionaries in the work of conversion and civilisation; two of whom emigrated from New-Jersey after the death of their Pastor, the Rev. David Brainerd. One Indian female, who could speak good English, fell upon her knees before Williamson, the Commander, and begged most eloquently and piteously for his protection ; but all her supplications and pleadings were unheeded by the heartless and dastardly wretch, who ordered her to prepare for death. They had anticipated the cruel fate that awaited them; and their hymns of praise and fervent prayers ascended from their prison, during the whole of that eventful night, to their great Father in heaven. Their prayers and tears, and their pleadings for mercy and protection, were lost upon their white murderers, but they entered the ears of an avenging God. When the morning sun arose, the work of death commenced, and a scene of human butchery occurred, of sufficient enormity to move the heart most used to blood and carnage, and gather paleness on the cheek of darkness itself. One after another, men, women, and children, were led out to a block prepared for the dreadful purpose; and, being commanded to sit down, the axe of the butcher, in the hands of infuriate demons, clave their skulls. Two persons, who were present at that time, and who related to me the fearful story, assured me that they were unable to witness, but for a short time, the horrid scene. One of these men stated, that when he saw the incarnate fiends lead a pretty little girl, about twelve years of age, to the fatal block, and heard her plead for her life, in the most piteous accents, till her innocent voice was hushed in death, he felt a faintness come over him, and could no longer stand the heartsickening scene. The dreadful work of human slaughter continued till every prayer, and moan, and sigh was hushed in the stillness of death. No sex, age, or condition was spared, from the greyhaired sire to the infant at its mother's breast. All fell victims to the most coldblooded murder ever perpetrated by man. There lay, in undistinguished confusion, gashed and gory, in that cellar, where they were thrown by their butchers, nearly one hundred murdered Christian Indians, hurried to an untimely grave by those who had but two days before sworn to protect them. God of humanity, what an act! But this was not enough. If possible, to heighten its atrocity, the buildings were fired, and the timbers of their peaceful homes were made the fuel that consumed their lifeless bodies. When I stood beside this cellar, and witnessed its ADVICE TO THE NEWLY MARRIED. blackened and dilapidated walls, and learned with what fortitude those poor Moravian Indian brethren met their martyr fate, some of them praising God to the last, others, like their Divine Master, praying for their murderers, none can tell the deep and overwhelming feelings of my soul. But, blessed be God! Satan can only go the length of his chain! The axe of persecution can only cut down the separating wall that lets the saint into heaven. The fires can only consume the mortality, from which the deathless spirit is evolved, and from whence it shall go, as in chariots of fire, to heaven. WHAT IS IT TO "WALK WITH GOD?" WE think we cannot answer this question better than by taking an extract from one of Baxter's beautiful works. May God give His blessing to every Christian who reads it, especially to those who are longing after a "closer walk." "To walk with God," says the holy man, "is to live as in His presence, and that with desire and delight. It is to believe and feel that, wherever we are, we are before the Lord, who seeth our hearts, and all our ways. It is to compose our minds to that holy reverence and seriousness, which become man in the presence of his Maker; and to order our words with that care and gravity which it is proper for those to use who speak before Jehovah. As we are not moved at the presence of a fly, a worm, or a dog, when persons of distinction and honour are present, so we should not comparatively be moved at the presence of man, however great, rich, or terrible, when we know that God Himself is present, to whom the greatest of the sons of men is more inconsiderable than a fly or a worm is to them. As the presence of a King makes ordinary bystanders to be unobserved, and the conversation of the learned makes us disregard the babblings of children; so the presence of God should make the greatest of men to be scarcely observed or regarded in comparison of Him. God, who is ever with us, should so fill our souls, and engross our attention, that others, in His presence, should be but as 21 a candle in the presence of the sun. Convinced of this, he who walks with God is careful to maintain that behaviour, both with regard to the temper of his spirit and the conduct of his life in all things, which he knows to be most pleasing in the sight of God, and most becoming those who stand continually before Him; while others accommodate themselves to the company with whom they converse, and are so engrossed with the creature, that they totally forget the presence of God. Hence men of God were wont to speak reverently, and yet familiarly, of God, as children of their Father, with whom they dwell; as being fellow-citizens with the saints, and therefore a part of His household. Thus Abraham calls Him, 'The Lord before whom I walk;' Jacob, ' God, before whom my fathers, Abraham and Isaac, walked;' and David says, 'I have set the Lord always before me: because He is at my right hand, I shall not be moved.' Yea, God Himself is pleased to use terms of gracious and condescending familiarity towards them. Christ dwells in their hearts by faith.' His Spirit dwelleth in them as His 'house,' and His 'temple.' The Father Himself is said to dwell in them, and walk in them.' 'God is love; and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God in him.' "Our walking with God, therefore, implies not only a sense of the common presence of God, but a lively abiding apprehension of His gracious presence, as our God and reconciled Father, with whom we dwell, and who dwelleth in us by His Spirit." ADVICE TO THE NEWLY MARRIED. ZSCHOKKE, in one of his tales, gives the following advice to a bride :: "In thy first solitary hour after the ceremony, take the bridegroom and demand a solemn vow of him, and give him a vow in return. Promise one another secretly, never, not even in jest, to wrangle with each other; never to bandy words or indulge in the least ill-humour. Never, I say, never! Wrangling in jest, and putting on an air of ill-humour merely to tease, |