36 POETRY-THE TREE OF LIFE. stance towards the establishment of Christianity in their district. They have given land to the value of 407. towards an Endowment Fund for supplying the salary of a native minister, as soon as one can be stationed among them. THE TREE OF LIFE. THERE is a tree, whose healing leaves Its gracious boughs with pleasant fruits That tree in God's own Paradise No flaming sword forbids to pluck O Tree of Life! when shall our eyes When, led beside life's streams, shall we Dear Paradise of love and peace! Fair city of the King! Of thy sweet fruits, thy tranquil joys, Thy pilgrims love to sing. And still, in humble sort, we strive To antedate the day When, from this weary, sinful earth, With grateful hearts our work we bring, Our silver and our gold: Accept them, Lord, and gather in Souls to Thy heavenly fold. Nor gold alone--the poor Are precious in His sight, man's pence Who, 'mid the crowd of givers, saw, As all we have receiv'd from Thee, All at Thy feet we lay Hast Thou not said "Let him that hears," "Come" to his neighbour say. So would we spread the joyful sound, So bid them all to come: In our dear MASTER'S heart and home There for a world is room! One heart, one hope, one work, be ours, Still may we faithful prove! Then rest beneath the Tree of Life, Chirk Vicarage. M. F. M. PALANQUIN TRAVELLING. WE copy the following passage from the late Miss Tucker's interesting little book, "South-Indian Sketches." We know not any 38 PALANQUIN TRAVELLING, description which will enable our readers more readily to realize what palanquin travelling is in India. When setting out on a journey in England, you have only to pack up the clothes and books you are likely to want, and get into whatever carriage you intend to travel by, knowing that you will be able to order your dinner, or take up your abode for the night, at some comfortable inn upon the road. But you must make very different preparations for travelling in India. Your palanquin must be not only your carriage, but your bed, your library, your wardrobe, and the bearer of almost every thing you will require on your journey. You may pack a few of your clothes in the imperial on the top, but must leave room in it for your tea things, your knife and fork, candlestick, wax candles, bread, tea, sugar, pepper, salt, and, in short, for all those minor comforts, which, while we possess, we so seldom think of or are grateful for, but of which we sadly feel the want when deprived of them. On the outside a tea-kettle must repose among the folds of a coarse blue cloth which lies on the top, and occasionally serves as a cover to the palanquin; a gurglet of water, in a wicker case, is slung at the back; and some place must be found for a camp stool, which is by turns to serve as a seat, a table, or a washing-stand. Within the palanquin is a mattress and pillow, two little drawers, and every thing to make you comfortable by night and neat in the day. All being ready, you get into it, the bearers lift it on their shoulders, and you set out on your strange journey. The poles of the palanquin are carried by three men in front and three behind, while six more run by the side, ready to change with them every three or four minutes. The "musalchee," or torch-bearer, runs also with them, holding in his left hand the torch, made of twisted cotton-cloth, and in his right a flask of oil, with its long bamboo neck, to feed the flame. But your party is not yet complete: you must have a "cavady coolie," to carry the remainder of your books and clothes, in two tin boxes, fastened to the ends of a long bamboo, and slung across his shoulder. You will start probably about five or six o'clock in the afternoon, and as you proceed, the stillness and coolness of the evening air, the clearness of the atmosphere, giving to the stars a brilliancy unknown in colder climates, or revealing the moon as a globe of light 'suspended in the firmament, and the evening planet almost like a smaller moon, the fireflies flitting round and round the trees,—all combine to give you a feeling of romance and delight, perhaps scarcely known before; while the only sounds you hear are the strange noises and the footfall of the bearers, or the distant croaking of the frogs, which your inexperienced ear will probably mistake for the bleating of lambs or kids; "sounds inharmonious in themselves and harsh," but not unpleasing when all else around is silent. You will be struck, as you travel on, by the choultries, which are very numerous, both on the roads and on the banks of rivers. They have been built at different times by wealthy natives, for the accommodation of travellers, particularly of pilgrims, for whose use one, or sometimes PALANQUIN TRAVELLING. 39 more, are attached to the larger pagodas; and before so many travellers' bungalows had been provided, Europeans also were often very glad to take shelter in them. They vary greatly in size and beauty, and some of them are very splendid; but, in general, the smaller ones consist merely of a kind of deep colonnade, the back being a solid wall, and the sides and front having only the open pillars which support the roof. The floor is paved, and raised one or two feet above the ground. The larger ones have usually a shallower colonnade with a door in the middle of the back, opening into a cloistered quadrangle, which serves for the temporary home of the passing traveller; while the bazaar, which is seldom wanting, supplies his few and simple wants of rice, curry-stuff, and chatties. At four or five o'clock in the morning you will be roused by the bearers' cry of "Sepoy, Sepoy?" and by finding your palanquin set down at the door of a travellers' bungalow. The summons is quickly answered by a respectable-looking man, often with a white beard, and with a red or white turban, whose red soldier's jacket over his native dress tells you that he has belonged to our Indian army. The door is soon unlocked, and you and your palanquin are admitted. These travellers' bungalows have been erected by Government, at intervals along the principal roads, for the use of European travellers, and consist usually of two rooms, each having a bath-room attached to it. The only furniture is a table, and two or three chairs, with now and then a cot; but many of them have lately been supplied with a small religious library by the liberality of private friends. Your first business will be to unpack your palanquin, and then to bathe and dress; and by the time you have finished, your tea-kettle is boiling, milk and eggs have been procured from the neighbouring bazaar, and you sit down to a hungry breakfast. After breakfast your tea-things must be washed and re-packed, and you will then have some hours for reading, writing, or meditation, as you feel most disposed. Your bearers have left you to get food and rest, the Sepoy and Peon in charge have laid themselves down to sleep, and you are left to the enjoyment of the most perfect quiet and repose. Nature itself partakes of the general stillness; not a breath of air is stirring to move "the market flag" that points out the neighbouring bazaar; and the shadow of the cocoa-nut has become a fixed spot upon the ground. Sometimes, however, the silence is broken by the distant sound of the village drum, calling the inhabitants to join in some idolatrous procession, and painfully reminding you that you are in the midst of a heathen land. Dinner time now approaches: a fowl has been procured for you, and by the help of the shadow of the bungalow, which serves him as a dial, the Sepoy contrives to bring your curry and rice at the time you ordered it. After dinner, if it is tolerably cool, you will probably saunter out to look about you. If a tank is near, your eye will catch the bright deep red blossom of the sacred lotus, with its "broad and buoyant" leaves, now lying motionless on the water, and now gently flapping up and down as a 40 THE NINGPO MISSION. rippling wave may pass across the surface. A herd of buffaloes will probably be there enjoying the delicious coolness-their whole bodies below the water, with only "their nostrils raised to meet the air.” It is now, however, time for you to resume your journey: your bearers make their appearance, and you are at first puzzled at one part of their preparations. Two men, taking each the end of a cloth, five or six yards in length, fold it together like a tablecloth: one of them stands fast, while the other, putting his own end of the cloth round his waist, winds himself round and round in it as tightly as he can, till he reaches his companion, when, taking the other end from him, he twists it into his waist. The whole party do the same, and thus "with loins girded," they are ready to start. But railways are now bringing near the distant extremities of India, and enabling the traveller to pass with rapidity from one part to another; and at no distant period the palanquin, like our stagecoach, will become a thing of the past. wwww THE NINGPO MISSION. THE REV. A. E. Moule, writing his annual letter on New-Year's day last, says The mercies vouchsafed to us as your Missionaries, and as members of the Missionary band in this province, have been very many and very great. This afternoon, at the usual monthly Missionary prayer-meeting, some remarks were made by Missionaries of different Societies on the present aspect of our work. Mr. Knowlton, an American Missionary, spoke hopefully of the work in which he has been some time engaged in the very heart of this province. The district of which he spoke is the Kyinghwỗ district, distant some 250 miles from Nying-po. Yet there he has three small stations, a band of from twenty to thirty Christians, and daily prayer in that far-distant region ascends to the true God through Jesus Christ. Mr. Knowlton, when returning from a recent visit to this district, turned aside to visit Hang-chow; and he expressed himself as being greatly struck with the vast importance of Hang-chow, the provincial capital, as a Missionary station. The work carried on there will, if tolerated, and if judiciously and faithfully conducted, give a tone and a sanction to similar work throughout the province. He spoke also very hopefully of what he had seen in Hang-chow-the absence of rudeness or annoyance of any kind offered to my brother and his family; on the contrary, the willing and effective interference on our behalf by the Mandarins in the two cases of insult offered to our native assistants. He imagines that a precedent is now established, sanctioning the residence of Missionaries in any part of the empire. May it be so; but Chinese magistrates are most capricious in their dealings. With respect to our out-stations, no large churches are being gathered together; but little bands are gathering round a yearly increasing number of centres. The electric wires are being laid in all directions: we wait but the shock from heaven. Mr. Green, of the same Mission, observed that there were mani |