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CONVERSION OF A FEMALE SAVAGE:

An Extract from Robinson Crusoe.*

On the return of CRUSOE to his Island, it is stated, that it was thonght necessary the English sailors, who had taken the female savages to wife, should be married by a formal ceremony. The priest considered it desirable the women should be first baptized-but he felt the difficulty of performing that rite, because they had not been instructed in Christianity. At this intimation, William Atkins, the son of a clergyman, but who was a most dissolute abandoned fellow, went away to converse with his wife on the subject of religion: the following is part of the relation which he gave to Robinson Crusoe, and the priest, relating to it,

R. C. Priest. “But did you tell her what marriage was?

W. A. "Ay, ay; there began all onr dialogue. I asked her, if she would be married to me our way. She asked me what way that was. I told her marriage was appointed by God: and here we had a strange talk together, indced, as ever man and wife had, I believe.

["N. B. This dialogue between W. Atkins and his wife, as I took it down in writing, just after he told it me, was as follows:]

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Wife. Appointed by your God! why, have you a God in your country? W. A. " Yes, my dear; God is in every country.

Wife. "No you God in my country : my country have the great old Benamuckee god.

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W. A. Child, I am very unfit to show you who God is: God is in heaven, and made the heaven, and earth, the sea, and all that in them is.

Wife. "No makee de earth; no your God makee de earth: no makee my country.

["Will laughed a little at her expression of God not making her country.]

Wife. "No laugh: why laugh me? This no thing to laugh.

Wife. "Why you say, your God make all?

W. A. "Yes, child, our God made the whole world, and you, and me, and all things; for he is the only true God; there is no God but he. He lives for over in heaven.

Wife. "Why you no tell me long ago?

W. A. "That's true, indeed; but I have been a wicked wretch, and bave not only forgotten to acquaint thee with any thing, but have lived without God in the world myself.

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Wife. What, have you de great God in your country, you no know him? No say O to him? No do good thing for him? That no possible.

W. A. "It is true enough for all that. We live as if there was no God in heaven, or that he had no power on earth.

Wife. "But why God let you do so? Why he no makee you good live?

W. A. 64 It is all our own fault. Wife. "But you say me, he is great, much great, have much great power; can makee kill when he will; why he no makee kill when you no seen him? No say O to him? No be good mans?

W. A. "That is true: he might strike me dead, and I ought to expect it; for I have been a wicked wretch, that is true; but God is merciful, and does not deal with us as we deserve. Wife." But, then, do not you tell W. A. "That's true, indeed: I will God, Thankee for that God? not laugh any more, my dear.

[He was justly reproved by his wife; for she was more serions than he at first.]

W. A.

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No, indeed; I have not

It is not generally known, that this popular fiction, in its original form, of the celebrated DANIEL DE-FOE, first published in 1719, contains sentiments the most evangelical, as well as moral maxims the most valuable for the different stations of human life. The above Extract is taken from Walker's Edition, printed 1808, containing 638 pages, 18mo.

thanked God for his mercy, any more than I have feared God for his power. Wife." Then you God no God; me no think, believe, he be such one, great much power, strong; no makee kill you, though you makee him much angry.

W. A. 'What? will my wicked life hinder you from believing in God! What a dreadful creature am I! and what a sad truth it is, that the horrid lives of Christians hinder the conversion of heathens!

Wife. "Now me tink you have great much God up there (she points up to heaven,) and yet no do well, no good ting? Can he tell? Sure he no tell what you do?

W. A. "Yes, yes; he knows and sees all things: he hears us speak, sees what we do, knows what we think, though we do not speak.

Wife. "What! he no swear, curse, speak the great d--n?

W. A." Yes, yes; he hears it all. Wife. "When be then the muchee great power strong?

W. 4. He is merciful; that is all we can say for it; and this proves him to be the true God; he is God, and not man; and therefore we are not consumed.

["Here Will Atkins told us, he was struck with horror to think how he could tell his wife so clearly that God sees, and hears, and knows the secret thoughts of the heart, and all that we do; and yet that he had dared to do all the vile things he had done.]

Wife. "Merciful! what you call

dat?

W. A. "He is our Father and Maker; and he pities and spares us.

Wife." So then he never makee kill, never angry when you do wicked; then he no good himself, or no great

able.

W. A. "Yes, yes, my dear; he is infinitely good, and infinitely great, and able to punish too: and sometimes, to shew his justice and vengeance, he lets fly his anger to destroy sinners, and make examples. Many are cut off in their sins.

Wife." But no makee kill you yet; then he tell you, may be, that he no makee you kill, so you makee de bar gain with him, you do bad thing, be no be angry at you, when he be angry at

other mans?

VOL. XVII.

W. A. "No, indeed, my sins are all presumptions upon his goodness; and he would be infinitely just if he destroyed me, as he has done other men.

Wife. "Well, and yet no kill, no makee you dead! What you say unto him for dat? You no tell him tankee for all dat too!

W. A. "I am an unthankful, ungrateful dog, that is true.

Wife. "Why, he no makee you much good better? You say he makee you.

W. A. "He made me as he made all the world: it is I have deformed myself, and abused his goodness, and have made myself an abominable wretch.

Wife. I wish you makee God know me: I no makee he him angry: I no do bad wicked thing.

["Here Will Atkins said his heart sunk within him, to hear a poor untaught creature desire to be taught to know God; and he such a wicked wretch, that he could not say one word to her about God; but that the reproach of his own carriage would make most irrational to her to believe; nay, that already she had told him, that she could not believe in God, because he that was so wicked, was not destroyed.]

W. A. 66 My dear, you mean you wish I could teach you to know God, not God to know you; for he knows you already, and every thought in your heart.

Wife. "Why, then, he know what I say to you now; he know me wish to know him. Now shall me know who makee me?

W.A." Poor creature, he must teach thee: I cannot teach thee. I'll pray to him to teach thee to know him; and to forgive me, that I am unworthy to teach thee.

[The poor fellow was in such an agony at her desiring him to make her to know God, and her wishing to know him, that he said he fell down on his knces before her, and prayed to God to enlighten her mind with the saving knowledge of Jesus Christ, and to pardon his sins, and accept of his being the unworthy instrument of instructing her in the principles of religion; after which he sat down by her again; and their dialogue went on:]

Wife. "What you put down the

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knee for? What you hold up the hand for? What you say? Who you speak to? What is all dat?

W. A. "My dear, I bow my knees in token of my submission to him that made me. I said ‘O' to him as you call it; and as you say your old men do to their idol Benamuckee; that is, I prayed to him.

Wife. "What you say O to him for? W. A. "I prayed to him to open your eyes, and your understanding, that you may know him, and be accepted by him.

Wife." Can he do dat too?

W. A. "Yes he can; he can do all things.

Wife." But he no hear what you say? W. A. " Yes, he has bid us pray to him; and promised to hear us.

Wife. "Bid you pray! When he bid you! How he bid you? What! you hear him speak?

W. A." No, we do not hear him speak; but he has revealed himself many ways to us.

[Here he was at a great loss to make her understand that God has revealed himself to us by his word, and what his word was; but at last he told it her thus.]

W. A. "God has spoken to some good men in former days, even from heaven, by plain words; and God has inspired good men by his Spirit, and they have written all his laws down in a book.

Wife. "Me do understand that,

where is book?

W. A.“ Alas! my good creature, I have not this book; but I hope I shall, one time or other, get it for you, and help you to read it.

[Here he embraced her with greater affection; but with inexpressible grief that he had not a Bible.]

Wife. "But how you makee me know, that God teachee them to write that book?

W. A. "By the same rule that we know him to be God.

Wife. "What rule, what way you know?

:

W. A. "Because he teaches and commands nothing but what is good, righteous, and holy and tends to make us perfectly good, as well as perfectly happy; and because he forbids and commands us to avoid all that is wicked, that is evil in itself, or evil in its consequences.

Wife. "That me would understand, that me fain see: if he reward all good thing, punish all wicked thing, he teachee all good thing, forbid all wicked thing; he makee all thing, he give all thing; he hear me when I say O to him, as you so do just now; he makee me good, if I wish be good; he spare me, no makee kill me, when I no be good. All this you say be do; yea, he be great God; me say O to him too, with you, my dear.

[Here the poor man said he could forbear no longer; but raising her up, made her kneel by him, and he prayed to God aloud, to instruct her in the knowledge of himself by his Spirit, and that, by some good Providence, if possible, she might, some time or other, come to have a Bible, that she might read the word of God, and be taught by it to know him:]

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They had some other discourses, it seems, after this, too long to set down here; and, particularly, she made him promise, that since he confessed his own life had been a wicked, abominable course of provocation against God, that he would reform it, and not make God angry any more, lest he should makee him dead, as she called it, and then she should be left alone, and never taught to know this God better; and lest he should be miserable, as he had told her wicked men should be after death."

P. 476-481.

Obituary and Recent Deaths.

To the Editor of the Baptist Magazine..

DEAR SIR,

The sole object of the writer of this paper, is to preserve the remembrance of real worth to a very numerous family,

the glory of the Redeemer, and the encouragement of the faithful in Christ Jesus.

MRS. MARY HARVEY, late wife of T. Harvey, Esq. of Woodnesborough Parsonage, near Sandwich in Kent, was

born at Whitfield, near Dover, in 1761. Her parents were persons of respecta bility in the farming line. I give you, sir, the substance of what she said to me, nearly in her own words.

“Until I was about seventeen years of age, I was a gay, thoughtless young woman; very fond of dancing, and carnal company: I ridiculed religion and the professors of it; I would not have my shoes of a pious neighbour because of his religion; but that man, to oblige my shoemaker at Dover, brought me some shoes, and said, 'Miss Horne, I have brought you some shoes from Dover.' This led me to think there was something more in real religion than I had imagined; I saw that he returned good for evil; this cut me to the heart. I applied to him for my shoes from that time. But I still think, my first impressive thought was at a play-house; but, (said she,) let no one think well of a play-house on this account; I thought, what, if the day of judgment should now take place! I am sure I should be found at the left hand of the Judge. A poor, but godly woman, faithfully told me, that I was in an awful state, and in the road to endless ruin. This added to my distress, but I stifled my convictions as much as I could, and for months kept all my feelings to myself. Again I tried the pleasures of the world; this continued from Michaelmas to about April following; at which time, my soul was in an agony about sin, and the salvation of my soul. I obtained my father's permission to go to Eythorn meeting, three miles distant, to hear the Rev. Mr. Knott on the Lord's day morning; he preached from Psalm li. 12. Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation.' I returned home to dinner, and went to church with my father in the afternoon; but all the time I was at church, my soul dwelt on Mr. Knott's text and sermon, Psalm li. 12. Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation,' &c. His sermon contained every thing my Soul panted after. While hearing it I thought Mr. Knott was more than ministers generally are, for he told me all that ever I did, all about my thoughts, my sins, the world, and Jesus Christ. While hearing, I said to myself, this church shall be my home, and nothing but violence shall keep me hence.

See Ivimey's History of the Baptists.

From this time I thought, I wept, I rejoiced, and began to tell others what a dear Saviour I had found: I now found Jesus Christ, his word, the throne of grace, and the house of God, all my desire and delight. My dear mother, had long been under convictions; I now opened to her my very soul, and was, perhaps, the chief instrument in her conversion; we sorrowed and rejoiced together. My dear father would bring my books among the corn in the granary; but so great was my concern for his salvation, that in going home one uight from Great to Little Archers' Court †, I knelt down under a hedge, and had great nearness to God in prayer for his salvation. My dear mother and myself were frequently overwhelmed with our tears, purely on account of our religion: one night my mother went part of the way home with mo, I knelt down in the lane to pray, but having no bonnet on, my mother stood and covered me with her apron. Before I was nineteen years old, I was married to Mr. Harvey, baptized, and joined the baptist church at Eythorne."

On the 11th of April last, (Lord's day) Mrs. Harvey's enjoyments of divine things were so great, her expressions of the Saviour and of Heaven, so affecting, that no one present was able to give it in detail. On the 12th of April, Mrs. Harvey desired that the writer and his wife might be sent for, supposing the time of her departure drew very near. Although the writer had heard the substance of the above account before, still, at his request, she gave him what is stated above, and also what follows.

"As to my funeral text, I would rather leave that with you; but I am afraid your regard for me may lead you to some text from which you may take occasion to say what I should not like to be said; I therefore will prevent you, by giving you a text myself: let it be Ephesians ii. 8, 9; I have many neighbours who, I fear, think more highly of their own works than they do of Jesus Christ. Perhaps they may be present, I want them to hear the truth on those two important things-how sinners cannot, and how they can, be saved."

* This old pilgrim, at eighty-seven, is yet living, and rejoicing in Christ crucified. + She was housekeeper of her father's farm, at Little Archers' Court.

She then broke out in a strain of holy
rapture, and, bathed in tears, she ex-
claimed, “Oh, sir, what abundant rea-
son have I to say,

Oh, to grace, how great a debtor,
Daily I'm constrain'd to be."

I do not want a funeral sermon for any
thing to be said about me, only about
Jesus Christ; his grace and mercy to
poor sinners." It was asked, if Satan
had endeavoured to distress her mind;
she replied, "Many years ago he did
so, but I bless the Lord, he enabled
me to resist him: whenever he appears
I am helped to show him the shield of
faith. Yesterday, my views of divine
truth were so clear, my confidence so
great, and my love to my Redeemer só
strong, that it was more than I could
give utterance to. My children en-
treated me to spare myself; but, I said,
perhaps, I have not long to stay, and,
feeling as I do, how can I help speak-
ing." The writer is here constrained
to say, that no person could well be at
a more remote distance from the cha-
racter of a mere talker, than the late
Mrs. Harvey. It was asked, "Is there
any change in your mind, as to your
views of divine truth, or the Saviour of
poor sinners?" She said, "Oh, no;
except it be, that I see and feel more
and more my need of both." Of the
Saviour she said,

"Yes, thou art precious to my soul,

My transport and my trust." On the 25th of May, her youngest son found her in a serene frame of mind, resting on the Rock Christ Jesus: she seemed afraid of coming back again into the world, but would rather depart, and be with Christ. She seemed cheered by her son's saying,

""Tis religion that must give Lasting pleasure while we live," &c. The next day Mrs. Harvey said to her eldest son, "I have not lost my anchor-hold, blessed be his dear name; I desire to be resigned to the Lord's will: his word comforts me." He said, Mother, it is not by works of righ teousness which we have done." "No, no, my dear; we must come to Christ empty-hauded. The 69th of Dr. Rip pon's Selection, has been very sweet to me:" and added,

"From sorrow, toil, and pain,

And sin, I shall be free."

son, the Lord bless you and yours; give my love to all." He added, "The Lord bless you, my dear mother! Farewell!” On the 31st, her youngest son said, "How is your mind?" she added, "Blessed be his dear name;" (this was a common word with her, when speaking of Jesus Christ.) She began that hymn

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"There is a land of pure delight;" but could only say, drink new in Father's kingdom." She a land-a land;row" but her departure was on the Not now-to-morrow, to morsaid, day following. She saw her husband weep: she said, "Do not weep!" Her son asked, "Are you happy?" she said, and take me to thyself: why tarry "Sweet Jesus, precious Jesus, come, sister finished her course, June the 2nd, the wheels of thy chariot." Our dear 1824, aged sixty-three years.

Mrs. Harvey's views of divine truth abiding doubt for more than thirty years, were clear, her faith strong, she had no of her interest in Christ. She was a lower of Jesus Christ; a bright examvery holy, humble, ornamental, folple to others; a firm and sincere friend; a lover of all good men. She was very useful to other Christians; the honoured instrument of the conversion of two of her grandchildren. In her experience, as to growth, depth, and stability, she was superior to very many pious Christians; she always loved those sermons best which savoured most of Jesus Christ. She was very liberal to the poor in general, but especially so, to the household of faith. To care for the poor of Christ's flock, in her own connexion, was one of the very last actions of her valuable life. Should any enquire after faults, the writer thinks he may be allowed to say, that after an intimate Christian intercourse of thirty-three years, he never knew her guilty of one single action that could, in the least, have tarnished her Christian character. Her funeral text, Ephesians ii. 8, 9, was preached from, at Eythorne, June 13, 1824, to fifty-three mourning relatives, and a large congregation; and at Barnswell in the evening, from her other text, 2 Timothy i. 12; both by her pastor.

REFLECTIONS.

How ought we all to hear this loud

She took his hand, and said, “My dear speaking voice: perhaps, a voice of

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