fingers shot off. Unable to defend themselves, and the Indians promising protection if they would surrender, Mrs. M'Ellhany prevailed with her son to open the door and admit them. There were in the fort, John M'Ellhany, his mother, wife, Hannah Tacket, (wife of Christopher,) Betsy Tacket, Samuel Tacket and Samuel M'Ellhany, (little boys.) Having secured these, the Indians bound up M'Ellhany's wounded hand, and, taking what plunder they could, retreated on to the hill, some half mile or more, where they stopped to divide the spoils, which being done, they left the prisoners under a strong guard, and the main party returned to the fort, to secure more prisoners. But they were disappointed; for when the people on Coal river heard the shooting at the fort, Robert M'Ellhany and his son Robert ran to ascertain the cause of it; and the rest of us took refuge in the house of Thomas Allsbury.

"O, it was an awful moment! We knew not at what moment the foe might be upon us; and should they come, we had no hope of deliverance. The M'Ellhanys finding the fort in possession of a large party of Indians, gave up all for lost, and, without returning to us, passed through the woods, crossed Coal river at the falls, and reached Clendenen next morning at daylight. We soon ascertained that the Indians had retired from the fort, and were sufficiently acquainted with their mode of warfare, to believe that they had only retired a short distance, and would return before dark. We, therefore, took canoes instantly and started for Clendenen.

"Just after dark there came up a heavy thunderstorm. The rain fell in torrents, filling the canoe in which I was, half full of water; and it did seem that we had only escaped the fury of the savage to find a watery grave. How I shielded my child, in that long night of alarm and terror, I know not; but we all arrived safely at Clendenen next morning about sunrise. The Indians finding that we had fled, killed what cattle they could find, burned all the houses, and returning to the prisoners, told them that they had killed all the people in the neighborhood. Sometime after, however, they told them the truth, stating that those little rivers had saved them. And so it was; for if the rivers had not been swollen by recent rains, they would have pursued and cut us all off, or taken us prisoners.

"About sundown they were ready to move; but, as a necessary preliminary, wished to bind John M'Ellhany. He told them it was useless; for his mother and wife being with them, he should not think about making his escape. Feinging satisfaction with this answer, one of them threw down a blanket, and bade him take it up. As he stooped to execute the order, the tomahawk was buried in his head; and he rolled upon the ground a lifeless corpse! Leaving him there a prey to wild beasts and the vultures of the air, they hurried away with the mother and wife, whose apprehensions for the future were too painful

to allow them to realize, to the full extent, the desolation of the present moment, or to give to the bitterness of their anguish the luxury of tears. It was one of those moments of high-wrought, intense excitement, in which the tide of feeling can only double back upon itself, and freeze the heart with horror!

"They continued their march to a late hour of the night. The elder Mrs. M'Ellhany, beside being infirm from age, was very corpulent, and hence traveled with difficulty, retarding the progress of the entire company. Betsy Tacket was walking immediately behind her, the last of the sad captive train. Observing the Indians in close consultation, she guessed their fatal determination, and said, 'Grandmother, it is time for you to pray-they are going to kill you! Without making any reply, she fell upon her knees and cried, Lead me to the Rock that is higher than I!' and, as the words trembled upon her lips, the tomahawk of the savage bade

"The weary wheels of life stand still.'

The silver cord was loosed, the golden bowl broken, and her spirit passed away to the land of the blest. She was a member of the Baptist Church, and a devoted Christian. O, it is, indeed,

"A fearful thing

To see the human soul take wing,
In any shape-in any mood;'

but to see it in this shape, even in the dim, shadowy
distance of half a century, makes us shudder. But
she was ready-her lamp was trimmed and burning.
She lived in communion with God, and to her we
may appropriately apply the words of Montgomery:
"Prayer is the Christian's vital breath,
The Christian's native air-

His watchword at the gate of death:
He enters heaven with prayer.'

"Soon after her death they encamped for the night. Next morning the Indians disagreed about something, and one of them, taking Hannah Tacket, separated from the others, and, turning up Guyandotte river, passed on to the Holstien. He, several times, made her steal corn and other things necessary to their subsistence. She at length asked him if the Indians stole from each other. No,' said he, 'the Great Spirit would be angry with them.' 'You make me steal from my people, and do you not think the Great Spirit will be angry with me for doing so?' Unable to answer her, he was content, after that, to do the stealing himself. He treated her with great kindness and affection, and, some eighteen months or two years after her captivity, he released her, and she returned to her friends. The others crossed the Ohio river, and went to some of their towns on the Muskingum, where the prisoners were separated, Jane M'Ellhany remaining, while Betsy Tacket and the two little boys were carried to Huron. Jane M'Ellhany's captivity was short, and the manner of her escape so remarkable, as to warrant our

calling it providential. The man who owned her sent her, early one morning, to a neighboring wigwam for a basket, in which he wished to wash some lye hommony. Though well acquainted with the path, she lost her way. Utterly bewildered, she could neither find the hut to which she was sent, nor any other. In this condition she wandered all day. Late in the evening she came to an Indian village, but she saw no person. She passed several huts without even an inclination to stop. At length, as she approached one, some person seemed to say to her, 'Stop here!' Yielding to the suggestion, she stepped to the door, and, to her great joy, found the hut was occupied by a white man, whose name, as she subsequently learned, was Zanes. He asked her if she was a prisoner, where taken, and if she desired to return to her friends. Having answered his inquiries, he told her that, if she would consent to be concealed for a few weeks, and assist his wife in preparing his winter clothes, he would restore her to her friends. With these conditions she cheerfully complied. Taking her some distance from his house, he concealed her beneath a pile of logs, where she remained for six weeks. The hunting season at length arrived, when he conveyed her to Wheeling, whence she returned to Clendenen.

"Betsy Tacket was stolen from the Indians by a Mr. M'Pherson, who was trading with them, and carried to Detroit, where she subsequently married Robert Johnson, who purchased Samuel Tacket, and then returned with them to Kanawha.

"The fate of Samuel M'Ellhany is not known; but it is supposed that he was killed at the time of General St. Clair's defeat, as we never heard of him afterward.

CHRISTIAN UNION.

BY REV. B. M. GENUNG.

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"BEHOLD how good and how pleasant it is, for brethren to dwell together in unity." True religion makes all lovely that comes within its influence. It is the transforming power of Heaven operating upon the heart, mellowing down the roughness of human nature, bending the human to the Divine will, sweetly blending, in a glow of associated loveliness, the better feelings of the soul, and "bringing every thought into obedience to the will of Christ." In this light, the royal Psalmist must have viewed those brethren who dwelt together in unity. Under this influence we must live, if our unity be like the "dew of heaven."

This unity should, in its nature, be a unity of purpose. That purpose should be, to glorify our Creator, to follow Christ as obedient servants, and as instruments in the hands of God to carry out the great ends of the Gospel, in the conversion of the world. It should, also, be a unity of feeling-an enduring affection, binding heart to heart, linking soul to soul, cementing in Christian alliance the people of God, looking upon the kingdom of grace as free for all who will be governed by its fundamental principles, without monopolizing religion, on account of some trivial peculiarity that never affects the salvation of the soul. This is Christian union, and it is the very picture and image of Heaven's holy religion; rather, it is religion itself carried out in real life-it is an embodiment of faith, hope, and charity-the garment of righteousness mantling the soul-the dove of Eden living in the heart-the celestial flame that feeds a pious mind, and sheds a heavenly influence over all within its sphere.

This unity should be Scriptural in its nature. Although it is our duty to do good to all men, yet we are not required to fellowship all as brethren, for all are not such. Some are our secret enemies, others are our settled, open foes. We are commanded "not to keep company, if any man that is called a brother be a fornicator, or covetous, or an

with such a one, no, not to eat." But, when the fundamental principles of the Gospel are believed, and the spirit of Christ exhibited in the life, we should acknowledge the reign of that spirit, and love those who love God.

"THE greatest saints in heaven," says Susannah Wesley, "were once sinners upon earth; and the same redeeming love and free grace that brought them to glory are sufficient to bring us, also, thither."

Christian union should be a union of action. There is need of action. The condition of the Church, the wants of a revolted world, the perishing state of souls, the flight of time, a yawning hell, an inviting heaven, and the imperative commands of a holy God, all unite in calling upon the people of God to strong and effective action, in the cause of the Redeemer. There is much of evil in this world, and much will have to be done before it is uprooted, and

thought, and such its achievements. What it is yet destined to accomplish, we may not say. True, in some respects, it is limited; but, in others, its limits, if it have any, have never yet been found. Mind is on the advance. There never was a time when exulting Science gazed on more or brighter trophies than at the present. And yet it may be, that all that the wise have known as yet, in comparison of what may still be known, is as if they had been playing, as Newton said of himself, with the pebbles on the shore of the great ocean of truth. Yes, the march of thought is onward in the direction of those unknown limits. And other generations, borne on by its power to a higher stand than that of the present, may talk of discoveries within the field of their vision, which do not come within the range of ours.

Such is the power of all. One may bury it up, or, by energetic and patient application, call it forth and give it wings for almost any flight. It may require long days and years of unremitting labor; but the result, when Science shall bring her trophies, and lay them at his feet, and the exulting heart shall swell with rapture more noble than that of the hero of the battle-field, when his eye surveys the achievements of his valor, will repay him for his toil.

MY FATHER'S GRAVE.

BY E. W. HAWLEY.

It was the twilight hour of the holy Sabbath; the loud peals of the distant church bell called the worshipers to their evening devotions. I had bowed with them in their morning sacrifice-I had mingled in their song of praise and adoration; but now I turned from the crowd to spend the last fleeting hour by my father's grave.

My father's grave! O, who can tell the emotions that come "welling up" from the heart's deepest fountain at such a moment! They told me he was dead; and well I knew, when last I kissed that pallid cheek, and heard that faltering voice utter farewell, that we should never meet again on earth; but, in my distant home, where his loved face was never seen, nor words of kind instruction heard, I could not press it on my heart that he had passed away; and when again I reached that cottage-place, and threw me on a mother's bosom, and felt a sister's warm embrace, I waited for his welcome; and though at morning prayers no father led, and when around the evening hearth his chair was vacant, yet something seemed to whisper to my saddened heart, "Soon he will come," and, listening, I would almost hear his step. But now I stood beside his grave-the awful reality burst with all its poignancy upon my spirit-that long-dreaded hour had surely come-that childhood's home, that loved circle, around which entwined my

173

earliest, purest love, and which, in all my wanderings, had been the attracting centre, was now broken. That father, so revered, so dearly cherished, the protector of my youthful days, and counselor of riper years, was torn away. I sat me down to weep. O, the bitterness of such grief-the loneliness that came stealing over the spirit, and made me wish, as I had often done in earlier days, to lay me down in death, ere I should live to wander through life's wilderness bereft of every friend! How dark and cheerless nature seemed, even in her liveliest mood! Our brightest hopes and dearest joys were but the vision of an hour: upon every forest leaf, and blooming flower, and sparkling eye, I read, passing away-passing away. I thought of him upon whose arm I leaned, and of that sweet babe, whose voice ever made music for my soul-of all my cherished friends; but these seemed transient as the morning cloud, or early dew. "Man cometh forth like a flower, and is cut down: he fleeth as a shadow, and continueth not," was impressed with new force upon my mind. Indulging such reflections, my eye caught the inscription upon the marble tablet: “I am the resurrection and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live." It was a powerful talisman, bringing to my relief all the precious truths and consoling principles of our holy religion, first impressed upon the tender mind by that father's precepts, then enstamped upon the inmost soul by the energies of the Divine Spirit.

A gentle influence, calm as the zephyr that breathed around, softened my grief, dried the falling tear, turned the current of thoughts, and pointed to the Christian's hope-the Christian's better home. Faith lent her "realizing sight" while I gazed within the vail upon that sainted father, and sisters dear, as they cast their crowns at Jesus' feet, singing of redeeming love to fallen man. No shade of sorrow hung around the brow-no scalding tear coursed the cheek-old age was not; neither was consumption's seal in all that spirit-throng. Immortal youth and beauty beamed from every face, while saints and angels joined in one eternal chorus of "halleluiah to the Lamb!"

Now I turned with new delight to earth's scenesno longer a dreary wilderness, where sorrow and death only reign; but a beautiful garden, where may be nourished the germs of immortal life-a splendid dressing-room, in which to prepare for that great day, when all nations shall appear before "the throne"-a spacious amphitheatre, through which we pass to the city of the living God; and when I left that place of graves, my heart was cheered, my hopes strengthened, and I better prepared to meet life's changes and responsibilities, ever keeping an eye to that future reward-that glorious state, where, adorned with Christ's righteousness, we shall meet an unbroken circle, to spend an eternity of bliss at God's right hand.

THIS is a lovely and beautiful morning. The sun, rising in his majesty and glory, sheds his illuminating and vivifying rays over the earth. The din of business is unheard, and all around is as still and silent as a "summer's evening." The aerial songsters fill the air with music. Nature, dressed in her lovely attire, wears the freshness and beauty of Eden. The earth is exquisitely adorned with the various and inimitable beauties of flowers, plants, and trees, which render it peculiarly cheering and animating. Its verdant landscapes fill the mind with the contemplation of richer scenes, yet to be enjoyed. Methinks it resembles the celestial "country," and the bowers

of the "tree of life."

It is a SABBATH MORNING-the morn of the day of rest. It reminds us of the spring-morn of eternitythe opening of that day, when all the ransomed hosts, with their glorified and immortal bodies, shall go up, to take full possession of their promised home.

Glorious morn! the ushering in of a joyous day! We hail thee with delight, though thy stay is short. We bid thee welcome, as an hour of peace and contemplation.

"Welcome, sweet day of rest,

That saw the Lord ariseWelcome to this reviving breast,

And these rejoicing eyes."

Harassed, perplexed, and disturbed, the mind now finds sweet tranquility and repose. All anxiety and disquietude are laid aside: the distracting and busy scenes of life are forgotten: the bustle of the world gives place to sweet and sacred silence: the busy multitude no longer throng our streets: none appear in their workshops, or at their merchandise: stillness reigns throughout the busy hamlet.

How peculiarly fitted is such a season for holy and heavenly contemplation! Scenes of amazing import and grandeur come up before us. The mind, undisturbed, swells with ecstatic delight on the amazing plan of redemption, the glories it unfolds, the blessings which it offers: it ranges through the scenes of time, and dwells, with untold interest, on the grand realities of the life to come.

It is an hour of devotion. From the palace and the cottage, rises the grateful incense of prayer and praise to the Father of mercies, from many devout and humble worshipers. How sweet to the soul are the exercises of this hallowed hour, when, in solemn audience with heaven's King, we are enabled to forget the cares, vexations, and secularities of the world! Blessed hour, indeed! our hearts rejoice at thy return.

How delightful the associations, too, of this hallowed morn! It reminds us of the time when we were, by the mother's side, first taught to repeat

the infant hymn, and to lisp the infant prayerwhen we were taught those instructive lessons in the Sabbath school. It revives a thousand events and incidents, of the halcyon days of childhood and youth, written, with indelible lines, on the tablet of the

heart.

Recollections, too, at this hour of reflection, cluster around the mind, of painful, yet of consoling emotions. An honored father, beloved mother, affectionate brother, sweet and lovely sister-ah! where are they? They are gone: yes, to the "spirit land." They are walking the plains of the celestial city, amid the delightful shades of the heavenly paradise. Farewell, then, endeared "loved ones," till we meet again for endless reunion, in the "better land." There, one

"Perpetual Sabbath reigns."

But the church bell sounds, which summons us to the house of prayer-the temple of God. There, with the assembled multitude, we will join in the chorus of devotion, and listen to the sound of mercy and salvation, as it falls from the lips of the embassador of Christ.

"How sweet a Sabbath thus to spend,
In hope of one that ne'er shall end!"

HEAVEN'S EXCELSIOR.

BY PEGASUS.

As the Christian lingereth here,
Like pilgrim from above,
Still ever on his vision glows

The Calvary of love.
And, as he breathes his soul away

In melody of prayer,

A holy light writes on the cross,
In crimson glory there,
EXCELSIOR!

When dies the saint, the seraph host
Welcome from Zion's hill
Their sister spirit, with the song,

Higher! yet higher still!

Then, far away, it soars to God,

Till heaven is full in view;
And, as the pearly gates roll back,
The anthem breaks anew,
EXCELSIOR!

And, in the presence of the Lamb,
Still higher will we rise,
And shout Excelsior! in heav'n,
Where music never dies;
And the bright banner of our God,
As o'er the throne it streams,
Flashing amid the glories there,
For ever with it gleams,

EXCELSIOR!