“Oct. 22.—A Brahmin of my own age was performing his devotions to the Ganges early this morning, when I was going to prayer. My soul was struck with the sovereignty of God, who, out of pure grace, had made such a difference in all the external circumstances of our lives. O let not that man’s earnestness rise up in judgment against me at the last day!—In the afternoon, they were performing the ceremony of throwing the images of Cali, collected from several villages, into the river. In addition to the usual music, there were trumpets. The objects of worship, which were figures most gorgeously bedecked with tinsel, were kept under a little awning in their respective boats. As the budgerow passed through the boats, they turned, so as to present the front of their goddess to me; and at the same time, blew a blast with their trumpet, evidently intending to gratify me with a sight of what appeared to them so fine. Had their employment been less impious, I should have returned the compliment by looking; but I turned away.”
“Came-to on the eastern bank, below a village called Ahgadeep. Wherever I walked, the women fled at the sight of me. Some men were sitting under the shed dedicated to their goddess; and a lamp was burning in her place. A conversation soon began; but there was no one who could speak Hindoostanee; so all I could say was by the medium of my mussulman interpreter. They said that they only did as others did; and that, if they were wrong, then all Bengal was wrong. I felt love for their souls, and longed for utterance to declare unto these poor simple people, the holy gospel. I think that when my mouth is opened, I shall preach to them day and night. I feel that they are my brethren in the flesh;—precisely on a level with myself.”
“Oct. 25th.—Had a very solemn season of prayer, by the favour of God, over some of the chapters of Genesis; but especially at the conclusion of the 119th Psalm. O that these holy resolutions and pious breathings were entirely my own! Adored be the never-failing mercy of God! He has made my happiness to depend, not on the uncertain connexions of this life, but upon his own most blessed self,—a portion that never faileth.—Came-to on the eastern bank. The opposite side was very romantic;—adorned with a stately range of very high forest trees, whose deep dark shade seemed impenetrable to the light.—In my evening walk enjoyed great solemnity of feeling, in the view of the world as a mere wilderness, through which the children of God are passing to a better country. It was a comforting and a solemn thought, and was unspeakably interesting to me at the time, that God knew whereabouts his people were in the wilderness, and was supplying them with just what they wanted.”
“Oct. 26th.—Sunday. Passed this Lord’s day with great comfort, and much solemnity of soul. Glory to God for his grace! Reading the scriptures and prayer took up the first part of the day. Almost every chapter I read was blest to my soul; particularly the last chapter of Isaiah: ‘It shall come, that I will gather all nations and tongues; and they shall come, and see my glory,’ &c. Rejoice, my soul, in the sure promises of Jehovah. How happy am I, when, in preparing for the work of declaring his glory among the Gentiles, I think, that many of the Lord’s saints have been this day remembering their unworthy friend. I felt as if I could never be tired with prayer. In the afternoon, read one of Gilbert’s French Sermons; Bates on Death; and some of the Nagree Gospels. In the evening, we came-to on the eastern bank. I walked into a neighbouring village, with some tracts. The children ran away in great terror; and though there were some men here and there, I found no opportunity or encouragement to try if there were any that could speak Hindoostanee: however, I felt vexed with myself for not taking more pains to do them good. Alas! while Satan is destroying their souls, does it become the servants of God to be lukewarm?”
“Oct. 27th.—Arrived at Berhampore. In the evening, walked out to see the cantonments at the hospital, in which there were one hundred and fifty European soldiers sick. I was talking to a man, said to be dying, when a surgeon entered. I went up, and made some apology for entering the hospital. It was my old school-fellow and townsman, ——. The remainder of the evening he spent with me in my budgerow. He pressed me much to stay longer with him, which I refused; but afterwards, on reflection, I thought it my duty to stay a little longer; thinking I might have an opportunity of preaching to the soldiers.”
“Oct. 28th.—Rose very early, and was at the hospital at day-light. Waited there a long time, wandering up and down the wards, in hopes of inducing the men to get up and assemble; but it was in vain. I left three books with them, and went away amidst the sneers and titters of the common soldiers. Certainly it is one of the greatest crosses I am called to bear, to take pains to make people hear me. It is such a struggle between a sense of propriety and modesty, on the one hand, and a sense of duty, on the other, that I find nothing equal to it. I could force my way any where, in order to introduce a brother minister: but for myself, I act with hesitation and pain. Mr. —— promised to ask the head surgeon’s permission for me to preach, and appointed the hour at which I should come. I went there: but after waiting two hours, was told that the surgeon was gone without being spoken to,—and many other excuses were made. So, as it was now the heat of the day, I saw it was of no use to make any more attempts; and therefore I went on my way.”
“Nov. 2.—Sunday. My mind was greatly oppressed, that I had done, and was doing nothing in the way of distributing tracts. To free my conscience from the charge of unprofitableness and neglect, I wished to go ashore in the middle of the day, wherever I thought I might meet people; but did not land till we came-to, on the banks of the Ganges, which we entered just before sunset. Walking on shore, I met with a very large party; and entering into conversation, I asked if any of them could read. One young man, who seemed superior in rank to the rest, said he could, and accordingly read some of the only Nagree tract that I had. I then addressed myself boldly to them, and told them of the gospel. When speaking of the inefficacy of the religious practices of the Hindoos, I mentioned as an example, the repetition of the name of Ram. The young man assented to this; and said ‘of what use is it!’ As he seemed to be of a pensive turn, and said this with marks of disgust, I gave him a Nagree Testament;—the first I have given. May God’s blessing go along with it, and cause the eyes of multitudes to be opened! The men said they should be glad to receive tracts; so I sent them back a considerable number by the young man. The idea of printing the Parables, in proper order, with a short explanation subjoined to each, for the purpose of distribution, and as school-books, suggested itself to me to-night, and delighted me prodigiously.”
“Nov. 8th.—Early this morning reached Rajemahl, and walked to view the remains of its ancient splendour. Gave a tract or two to a Brahmin; but the Dak moonshee, a Mussulman, when he received one of the Hindoostanee tracts, and found what it was, was greatly alarmed: and after many awkward apologies, returned it, saying that ‘a man who had his legs in two different boats, was in danger of sinking between them.’ Went on, much discouraged at the suspicion and rebuffs I met with, or rather pained; for I feel not the less determined to use every effort to give the people the gospel. Oh! that the Lord would pour out upon them a spirit of deep concern for their souls! In a walk, at Rajemahl, met some of the hill people. Wrote down from their mouth some of the names of things. From their appearance, they seemed connected with the Hottentots and Chinese. Passed the day in correcting Acts, chapter iii. with the moonshee. At night walked with Mr. G—, into a village, where we met with some more of the hill people. With one of them, who was a manghee, or chief of one of the hills, I had some conversation in Hindoostanee; and told him that wicked men, after death, go to a place of fire; and good men, above, to God. The former struck him exceedingly. He asked again, ‘What? do they go to a place of great pain and fire?’ These people, he said, sacrifice oxen, goats, pigeons, &c. I asked him if he knew what this was for, and then explained the design of sacrifices; and told him of the great sacrifice, but he did not seem to understand me, and appeared pensive, after hearing that wicked men go to hell. He asked us, with great kindness, to have some of his wild honey; which was the only thing he had to offer. How surprising is the universal prevalence of sacrifices! This circumstance will, perhaps, be made use of for the universal conversion of the nations. How desirable that some missionary should go among these people!—No prejudices—none of the detestable pride and self-righteousness of their neighbours in the plains.”
“Nov. 9th.—Passed the Sabbath rather uncomfortably. With Mr. ——, I read several portions of the sacred scriptures, and prayed in the afternoon. We reached Sicily gully, a point where the Rajemahl hills jut out into the Ganges. It was a romantic spot. We went ashore, and ascended an eminence to look at the ruins of a mosque. The grave, and room over it, of a Mussulman warrior, killed in battle, were in perfect preservation; and lamps are still lighted there every night. We saw a few more of the hill people; one of whom had a bow and arrows; they were in a hurry to be gone; and went off, men, women, and children, into their native woods. As I was entering the boat, I happened to touch with my stick the brass pot of one of the Hindoos, in which rice was boiling. So defiled are we in their sight, that they thought the pollution passed from my hand, through the stick and the brass, to the meat. He rose and threw it all away.”
“Nov. 13th.—This morning we passed Colgong. I went ashore and had a long conversation with two men. As I approached more and more to religion, they were the more astonished; and when I mentioned the day of judgment, they looked at each other in the utmost wonder, with a look that expressed, ‘how should he know any thing about that?’ I felt some satisfaction in finding myself pretty well understood in what I said: but they could not read: and no people came near us, and so I had the grief of leaving this place without supplying it with one ray of light. Looking around this country, and reflecting upon its state, is enough to overwhelm the mind of a minister or missionary. When once my mouth is opened, how shall I ever dare to be silent? Employed as yesterday. At night met some boatmen on the bank, and a Fakir with them: I talked a good deal, and some things they understood. The Fakir’s words I could scarcely understand. As he said he could read, and promised to read a Testament, I gave him one, and several tracts.”