bring me up in the right way; but I have neglected and forgotten all their advice. It is now six years since I have been near them, and they know nothing of me nor where I am." In a long conversation, I endeavored to persuade him of his ingratitude to God his heavenly Father as well as towards his earthly parents; and left him with the resolution of the prodigal on his lips, if not in his heart.

The more impressive and melancholy dispensations of Providence have not been wanting to add their influence to that of the means of grace, in inclining our minds to thoughts of seriousness and piety. Within the last two days, I have been called twice to perform the saddest office incident to my station, by committing to the deep that which shall be retained in its dark caverns till "the sea shall give up its dead."

A funeral is a melancholy and impressive service any where, but particularly so at sea, and on board a man-of war. There is something more deeply thrilling in the call of the boatswain, "All hands, to bury the dead!" as it passes through the ship, echoed from deck to deck by his mates, than even in the admonitory sounds of the bell of death on shore. And as, for the first time, in obedience to it I ascended the companion-ladder, and passed through the opening crowd to the side of the ship, where in the sad preparations of the grave lay the form of one who at that hour the day previous had little thought of being then` in eternity, I could scarce command my voice, in giving utterance to the sublime declaration of the burial service, "I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord." The pause, too, preceding the words “we commit his body to the deep," and then the plunge

and plash of the lifeless clay, as it is launched to its watery tomb, speak in a voice more deeply touching than that sent back by the clod of the valley from the narrow house, when "dust returns to dust, and ashes to ashes!" in the seemingly more natural cemetery within the churchyard limits.

The person buried, was a young man of the marines. He had been ill for a fortnight, but was at no time thought dangerous, and for the last few days was considered convalescent. I first conversed with him upon the subject of religion ten days ago. In reply to the question, whether he had ever thought seriously of the destiny of the soul, his only answer-and one which he seemed to think abundantly sufficient, as his black eyes filled with tears-was, "I had a pious mother!" I have seen him daily since, and though confessedly far from God, he appeared persuaded to cast himself in penitence upon his mercy, and hereafter to lead a virtuous life. Poor fellow! he little thought his end was so nigh. On attempting to sit up after having been in a quiet sleep, the rupture of an internal abscess took place, and springing in a convulsion from his cot, he fell dead in the arms of his attendant. His was the first funeral, but we had too sad evidence before us, that it was not to be the last. A petty officer was lying at the time in the very jaws of death, and expired the same day. Noble in figure, and of an uncommonly hardy constitution, he died at the early age of thirty, a sacrifice to the demon of drunk

enness.

Before he was thought in particular danger, a fortnight ago, I spoke to him, in one of my visits, of the importance of being at all times prepared for sickness

and death; to which he replied, that he was too weak both in body and mind, to think on such subjects.-Then, he was comparatively strong, and perfectly himself; but soon afterward, the "delirium tremens," with all its accompanying tokens of a horrid end, took from him every power of reflection, and he perished a miserable and degraded soul. As I stood by his cot, gazing at his convulsed and agonized frame, just before he expired, he broke out into oaths and curses, after having lain six hours speechless, which were too dreadful to be listened to.-To commend his immortal spirit by prayer to the mercy of an Eternal Judge, was all in my power to do; and I turned away with the heartfelt aspiration-" Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his !"

RIO DE JANEIRO.

LETTER V.

DESCRIPTION OF THE BAY OF RIO DE JANEIRO.

U. S. ship Guerriere, Rio de Janeiro,
March 30th, 1829.

EARLY on Friday the 27th inst., we made Cape Frio, a lofty promontory, one degree due east of Rio de

Janeiro.

The morning was delightful, and with a breeze fresh and fair, we hoped at the time to gain the harbor by nightfall; but, after doubling the Cape, lost the regular trade wind, and coming within the alternate influence of a land and a sea breeze, made such slow advances, as on Saturday evening to be still outside of the bay, twenty miles from the city.

It having fallen entirely calm, we were obliged here to drop anchor for the night, and wait for the breeze of the morning to carry us into port. But for the interruption of the order and worship of the Sabbath, a consequence of this delay, I should not have regretted it, from the greater opportunity afforded to observe and admire the rich and noble scenery of the coast.

I was somewhat surprised, and you will believe me, dear H- much delighted, to find a most striking 4

VOL. I

resemblance in some of the characteristic features of this celebrated empire, and those of the islands of the Pacific, once our residence. Had I been taken blindfold to the anchorage of the Guerriere on Saturday evening, without knowing in what part of the world I was, I should fully have thought myself, on beholding it, in some group of Polynesia. There are the same fantastic headlands of bare sand and ashes, washed and furrowed by water-courses till seemingly the production of artificial workmanship; the same loftiness and wildness of outline in the mountains; the same dark luxuriant forests hanging among naked precipices and projecting cliffs about their summits: and the same smooth swelling hills of light green encircling their bases, like so much velvet, in the brightness of the sun.

Indeed the whole coast from Cape Frio appeared so much to my eye like the first parts of Hawaii we saw, on reaching the Sandwich Islands, that as we sailed along, at too great a distance to distinguish any distinctive marks of the abode of men-a vaporish smoke rising here and there from the low lands and valleys. being the only evidence of inhabitants discovered-I could scarce banish the impression, from strong associations with that period, that this too was a heathen land. And in attempting, with a glass, to secure a closer observation, felt something like disappointment in not distinguishing, at intervals along the shore, huts of thatch, surrounded by their dark and naked inmates.

The imperialists of Brazil might think me doing injustice to the magnificence of their country, by thus associating it in my mind with that of the rude natives of the Pacific; but so far as the interest excited in my own bosom by it is concerned, it may justly be interpreted into the highest encomium I can bestow.