by one, as many as I could call to mind. My longing desire for you was, that Jesus might reveal himself to you in the breaking of bread,—that you might have heart-filling views of the lovely person of Immanuel, and might draw from Him rivers of comfort, life, and holiness. I trust your fellowship was with the Father, and with his Son Jesus Christ. Many I know are ignorant of Jesus. I trembled when I thought of their taking the bread and wine. You all know my mind upon this. The next morning the storm abated, and we sailed over the tideless sea, and reached the beautiful harbour of Marseilles by eight o'clock. We had conference with a faithful young minister, and with the Rabbi of the Jews. We also attended the synagogue the same evening. The Jews of France are fast falling into infidelity, especially the younger Jews. They do not love the law and the prophets as their fathers did. They are, indeed, the dry bones in Ezek. xxxvii, Still God can make them live. It is our part to speak to them the word of the Lord, and to pray for the quickening Spirit.

True Christians in France are increasing. There are 400 Protestant ministers, and nearly one-half of these are faithful men, who know nothing among their locks but Christ and Him crucified. In some places Christians seem more bold and devoted than in Scotland. It is very pleasant to hear them singing the French psalms: they sing with all their heart, and are much given to prayer. Oli, my dear Christians, be like them in these things ! May the same Holy Spirit, who has often visited you in times gone by, fill your hearts more than ever with praise and prayer !

Popery in France is waxing bolder. The first day we landed on the shore, it was evident we were in a land of Popish darkness. On the height above Boulogne, a tall white cross attracted our eyes. We found on it an image of our Saviour nailed to the tree, larger than life; the spear, the hammer, the nails, the sponge, were all there. It was raised by some shipwrecked fishermen ; and sailors' wives go there in a storm to pray for their absent husbands. The Popish priests meet us in every street: they wear a three-cornered hat, black bands, a black mantle with a sash, and large buckles on their shoes; they have all a dark, suspicious look about them. At the entrance of every village there is a cross, and the churches are full of pictures and images. I went into one church in Paris, the finest in France, where the crosses were all of pure silver, and there was a large white image of the Virgin Mary, holding the infant Jesus in her arms. Many rich and poor were kneeling on the pavement before the image, silently praying. Gross darkness covers the people. A priest travelled one whole night with us in the coach. We argued wich him first in French and then in Latin, trying to convince him of his errors, showing him his need of peace with God, and a new heart. In Psalm cxxxvii. you will see that Babylon, or Popery, is “doomed to destruction;" and in Rev. xviii. you will see that her destruction will be very sudden and very terrible. Oh that it may come soon, for thousands are perishing under its soul-destroying errors! And yet remember what I used to read to you out of Martin Boos, and remember the saying of the Lord to Elijah, 1 Kings xix. There may be many hidden ones even in Babylon. The whole way through France we distributed French tracts. Many hundreds in this way received a message of life. In every village they came crowding around us to receive them. Pray that the dew of the Spirit may make the seed sown by the wayside spring up.

We were too late for the first vessel to Malta, and therefore resolved to sail into Italy. We left Marseilles on the 23d April, and landed at Genoa on the 24th. Genoa is one of the most beautiful towns in the world: the most o the houses and churches are of pure white marble, and from the sea look like palaces. But Satan's seat is there : we dared not distribute a single tract or book in Genoa, -we would have been imprisoned immediately. The Catholic priests, in their black dismal cloaks, and the monks with their coarse brown dress, tied with a cord, a crucifix and beads hanging round their neck, bare feet, and cowl, swarm in every street. I counted that we met twenty of them in a ten minutes' walk. Popery reigns here triumphant, yet the people “are sitting still, and at ease,” living for this world only. Oh! it is an awful thing to be at ease when under the wrath of God. Every place I see in Italy makes me praise God that you have the gospel so freely preached unto you. Prize it highly; do not neglect the wells of salvation that flow so freely for you.

The next day we sailed for Leghorn, where we have been ever since. We are living in the house where the excellent Mr Martin, once minister of St George's, Edinburgh, died in 1834. We visited his grave. I prayed that, like him, we might be faithful unto the end. There are from 10,000 to 20,000 Jews here. We went to the synagogue the night we arrived, and twice since; it is a beautiful building inside, capable of holding 2000 persons. The place where they keep the law, written on a par hment roll, is finely ornamented with marble; so is the desk kept where they read the prayers. Lamps are continually burning. One Rabbi was chanting the prayers when we entered. Beside the ark there stood three Rabbis, in the Eastern dress, with turbans and flowing robes, and long beards. They were much reverenced, and many came to kiss their hand and receive their blessing. One of them is from Jerusalem; we have had many interesting conversations with him. Every day we have met with several Jews; they are very friendly to us, and we try to convince them out of the Scriptures that Jesus is the Christ. There are about 250 Protestants here; and we have tried to stir them up also to care for their souls. Dr Black preached to them in our hotel last Sabbath evening.

Hitherto the Lord hath helped us. To-morrow we sail from Italy to Malta, then for Egypt, and then for the Holy Land. Dear believers, it is a sweet consolation to me that your prayers go with me wherever I go. Often, perhaps, they close the mouth of the adversary,—often keep back the storms from our vessel, often open a way to the hearts of those we meet,often bring down a sweet stream of the Spirit to water my thirsty soul. May I be enabled to make a sweet exchange with you, praying my heavenly Father to render double unto each of your bosoms what you pray for me! May my dear brother, who, I trust, fills my place among you, be made a blessing to you all! May his own soul be watered while he waters yours! Join him with me in your supplications. May he win many souls among you that I could never win.

This is Thursday evening. I trust you are at this moment inet together in the prayer-meeting. Oh! do not forsake the assembling of yourselves together. My heart is with you all. May the Spirit fill the whole church and every heart with his presence and power. My body is still far from being strong. I am more and more convinced that I did right in leaving you. I trust to be restored to you again in the fulness of the blessing of the gospel of Christ, “ The will of the Lord be done."

My dear brother who is with me, whom you know well, and who daily joins me in fervent prayers for you, sends his salutations. Remember me to all who are sick and afflicted. Alas ! how many of you may be labouring and heavy laden, that I know not of; but Jesus knows your sorrows. I commend you to the good Physician.

My dear classes, I do not, and cannot forget. Psalm cxix. 9th verse, I pray may be written in your hearts.

My dear children in the Sabbath schools I always think upon on the Sabbath evenings, and on those who patiently labour among them. The Lord himself give you encouragement, and a full reward.

To all I say, keep close to Christ, dear friends. Do not be

enticed away from Him; He is all your righteousness, and all mine; out of Him you have all your strength, and I mine. It pleased the Father that in Him should all fulness dwell.

The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirits. Farewell.

TENTH PASTORAL LETTER.
Incidents of the way in Palestine and other lands--Request.

BRESLAU, IN Prussia, October 16, 1839. To my dear flock, whom I love in the Lord Jesus, grace, mercy, and peace, be multiplied from God the Father, and from his Son Jesus Christ.

I fear that many of you will be thinking hardly of your distant pastor, because of his long silence; and, indeed, I cannot but think hardly of myself. I little thought, when leaving Italy, that I would be in Europe again before writing to you. I did not know how difficult it is to write at any length when travelling in the East. From the day we left Egypt till we came to Mount Lebanon, for more than two months, we were constantly journeying from place to place, living in tents, without the luxury of a chair or a bed. In these circumstances, with my weak body, and under a burning sun, you must not wonder at my silence. At the foot of Mount Carmel I began one letter to you, and again in sight of the Sea of Galilee I began another, but neither did I get finished. Last of all, before leaving the Holy Land, I set apart a day for writing to you; but God had another lesson for me to learn. He laid me down under a burning fever, bringing me to the very gates of death. Indeed, my dear people, I feel like Lazarus, whom the Lord Jesus raised from the tomb. I feel like one sent a second time with the message of salvation, to speak it more feelingly and more faithfully to your hearts, as one whose eye had looked into the eternal world. In all our wanderings, you have been with me by night and by day. Every scene of Immanuel's land brought you to my remembrance, because every scene tells of Jesus Christ and Him crucified. In the wilderness,-in Jerusalem,-beside the Sea of Galilee,-at Smyrna,-on the Black Sea,- on the Danube, you have been all with me. I have, day and night, unceasingly laid your case before God. It has been one of my chief comforts, that, though I could not preach to you, nor come to you, I could yet pray for you. Perhaps I may obtain more for you in this way, than I could have done by my personal services among yon. Another joy to me has been, that I know all of you who pray, pray for me. This has been a lamp to me in many a dark hour. God has wonderfully preserved us through your prayers. In the south of the Holy Land, we were daily exposed to the plague. Every night we heard the wail of the mourners going about the streets of Jerusalem; yet no plague came near our dwelling. Near the Sea of Galilee we were often in danger of being robbed and murdered by the wild Arabs; yet we passed unhurt through the midst of them. Sailing to Smyrna, your pastor was brought low indeed, insomuch that I never thought to see you again ; yet He sent his word and healed me. In Poland, the Sabbath before last, I was actually in the hands of robbers; but through God's wonderful mercy, I escaped safe. In every step of our journey, I am persuaded we have been watched over by our all-loving Father, who is the hearer of prayer! And the Lord shall deliver us from every evil work, and will preserve us unto his heavenly kingdom. I speak of these things only that you may give Him the glory, and trust in Him to your dying day. Sing Psalm cxvi. in all your families. Another joy to me has been, that God has given you the dear brother who watches over you so tenderly. You know not what joy it gave me to hear of you all through him. The letter reached me at Smyrna, when I was so weak that I could not walk alone. It was like health and marrow to my bones, to hear that the Lord's work is not yet done in the midst of you, and that so many of you stand fast in the Lord, having your conversation in heaven. I have no greater joy than to hear that my children walk in the truth. It is not like common joy. All joys of this world are short and fading,—they reach not beyond the dark boundary of the grave; but to rejoice over those whom the Lord has given me out of a perishing world-this is joy which God himself shares, and which reaches into the light of eternity. Ye are my joy and crown. In like manner, there is no sorrow like the sorrow of the pastor, who has to weep over a backsliding people. I do tremble to return to you, for I kuow well I shall have deep sorrow from some of whom I expected joy. I fear iest I have to mourn over some branches that are without fruit, on the good vine-tree; over some, who once gave their hand to the Saviour, but are now saying, “I will go after my lovers.” Are there none of you who have left your first love, and broken the bands that bound you to follow Jesus? Shall I find none of whom I must needs say, “ They went out from us, but they were not of us?" Oh, there is no sorrow like unto this sorrow. Uad