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ARCHDEACON ABRAHAM COWLEY. OWARDS the close of the year 1840, the C.M.S. Committee received a most touching appeal from a faithful missionary who had laboured for fifteen years among the Red Indians, the Rev. W. Cockran. His health had so broken down that he besought leave to retire. "Let pity," he wrote to the Society, "touch your bosom, and relieve one who is reluctantly driven from the field by infirmity."

Help was speedily sent to him, but in the meanwhile his strength and spirits had revived; he continued at his post. When Rupert's Land was made a diocese he was appointed by Bishop Anderson Archdeacon of Assiniboine; and on Oct. 1st, 1865, he at length entered into rest, after a finished course of forty years without once returning home.

The missionary who was hurried out to relieve Mr. Cockran was a young student at the Islington College, Abraham Cowley. Railways and steamers have brought Rupert's Land very near to us now, and as we write these lines letters have come in dated only three weeks back. But in those days it was no easy task to get there at all. Mr. and Mrs. Cowley sailed Jan. 5th, 1841, for Canada, hoping to accompany the Bishop of Montreal, who was intending to visit Red River by way of Lake Superior and the uninhabited country beyond, a distance altogether of 2,000 miles. But this plan fell through; no opportunity offered for going on; and Mr. and Mrs. Cowley had actually to return to England to get a passage in the annual ship to Hudson's Bay, whence, landing at York, a canoe voyage of 800 miles would take them to their destination, which they ultimately reached on Sept. 28th, 1841. During his short stay in Canada, Mr. Cowley was ordained by the Bishop of Montreal,

new station at Cumberland (see GLEANER, Oct., 1875). The second was made by Mr. Cowley, shortly after his arrival. In the summer of 1842 he began a mission to the Saulteaux or Soto Indians, on the banks of Lake Manitoba, some 200 miles north-west of Red River.

For many years Mr. and Mrs. Cowley toiled unceasingly for the temporal and spiritual benefit of the Indians, but with very little success. The Saulteaux have always proved a peculiarly hard-hearted and superstitious race, and again and again Mr. Cowley's reports were full only (as he himself expressed it) of "lamentation, and mourning, and woe." "lamentation, and mourning, and woe." In the spring of 1851 Bishop Anderson visited the station, and had the privilege of baptizing the first convert, Luke Caldwell, who afterwards became a teacher, was ordained in 1871, and died two years ago. On this occasion the bishop re-christened the station, calling it Fairford, after Mr. Cowley's native village in Glouces

THE VEN. ABRAHAM COWLEY, B.D.,

Archdeacon of Cumberland, Rupert's Land.

tershire. "When we think of Manitoba," he wrote, "we may remember that, it was the Indian's name for the narrow pass over the lake, which he imagined to be haunted by an evil spirit, and called it, therefore, Manito-ba. When we name Fair-ford, may we think of that brighter passage to a better land, made known by Him who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life!

When Mr. Cowley removed from Fairford, in 1854, he left there 120 Native Christians. His next charge was the Indian settlement at Red River, which had been founded by Mr. Cockran twenty-two years before. Here he laboured for thirteen years (broken only by one. visit to England) among the large congregation of civilised and Christianised Indians, Saulteaux and Crees, who had settled down to the quiet pursuits of agricultural life. In 1867 he handed over the charge of it to a Native pastor, the Rev. Henry Cochrane; and Fairford also, after being worked for some years by an English missionary, Mr. Stagg, was

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having left England before his ordination could take place in given to two Native clergymen in succession, the Rev. J. Settee the regular way.

In 1841 there were three missionaries in the whole of the vast territories, more than 2,000 miles square, now covered by the Society's North-West America Mission, viz., Mr. Cockran, Mr. Smithurst, and Mr. Cowley. There are now twenty-four clergymen connected with the C.M.S. alone, of whom four are Indians, and several others country-born. There were then but a few hundred Native attendants on public worship; there are now probably 10,000. The three missionaries in 1841 were all at Red River, then a backwoods settlement, now the centre of the prosperous province of Manitoba. The first attempt at extending the work had just been made, by sending the Native schoolmaster, Henry Budd, 500 miles into the forests, to start a

and the Rev. G. Bruce, the latter of whom is still resident there. Thus what is in a sense the crown of missionary work has been achieved at both stations.

In 1867 Mr. Cowley was appointed by Bishop Machray Archdeacon of Cumberland, in succession to the Rev. J. Hunter, who had returned home. He also became Secretary of the whole C.M.S. Mission, and in that capacity he has travelled much during the last few years, visiting station after station, and encouraging the missionaries, pastors, and schoolmasters by his wise and fatherly counsels. His head-quarters are at St. Clement's, Mapleton, one of the now settled parishes on the Red River; where he is assisted by his son, the Rev. A. E. Cowley, the eldest of that goodly band of brothers and sisters

which has never been without a representative in the Missionaries' Children's Home, at Highbury, since that Home was opened twenty-four years ago.

Archdeacon Cowley's features will be recognised at once by many of our readers who heard his happy speeches at missionary meetings during his short visit to England in 1876; and those who have never seen them will be glad to have the likeness of a face familiar and beloved by white men and red men alike all over the plains and forests of Rupert's Land. Missionaries like William Cockran and Abraham Cowley are the best gift of God to His Church on earth. They are the men who, while we at home talk about Missions, do the work of Missions; and they are the men, assuredly, whom, in the great day of account and of reward, the King will delight to honour.

LEAVES FROM THE HISTORY OF A MISSIONARY AUXILIARY.

BY MISS E. J. WHATELY.

CHAPTER X.

HE gathering at the Rectory to meet the "missionary lady " was smaller than it would have been a year ago; but on the other hand, several who had very seldom come before were attracted by Miss Thornley's name, and certainly she did not disappoint our expectations.

She was a quiet, unassuming woman, some years past youth, and looking probably older than she was from the effects of a long sojourn and hard work in a tropical climate; but her expressive, animated countenance showed that hers had been a happy work, and that she had thrown herself into it, heart and soul. She possessed the gift of relating simply, graphically, and clearly what she had seen and heard, and of arranging her material so as not to weary or puzzle her hearers. It had been agreed that the meeting was to begin with a little history of her special work, and a description of the places and objects which it concerned. Her narrative enchained the attention of all, and when she paused-for she had the good sense and tact to know when to stop-there was a general request "for more."

Mrs. Weston then proposed that we should ask questions on any point which might need clearing up, and especially on the difficulties attending work to be sold in aid of missions abroad. "Miss Thornley," she said, may be able to give us just the information we need on that point." The first part of the proposal was agreed to readily, but there was some little demur at the work question being revived, and little "asides" were heard, of "Oh, you know it is no use to ask about that ”—“ We have all seen it can't be done," &c. But Mrs. Weston held her ground, and asked Miss Thornley plainly to tell the ladies her experience as to the sale of work abroad.

Miss Thornley replied most decidedly that she had always found it answer well. She did not know, indeed, how it would be possible to keep up several schools she knew personally, without the regular sales on which they mainly depended.

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Oh, but we found it such a failure! They say it is no use trying now- was heard from several voices.

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"May I ask where the boxes were sent that proved failures ?" asked Miss Thornley, in her clear, calm, distinct voice.

Mrs. Weston named the three Indian stations they had taken, premising that the first had succeeded.

"I know the one where Mrs. Black lives," said Miss Thornley, "not personally, but very well by reputation, and all who have been much there agree in saying work will not sell there. It is not Mrs. Black's fault, but the peculiar circumstances of the place;" and she proceeded to give nearly the same reasons I had done before, viz, the scattered European population, the difficulty of mutual communication, &c.

"But what of our second station, which had been so warmly recommended," said Mrs. Weston, "and yet turned out a failure?"

"That is a place I never knew to fail yet," said Miss Thornley; "but I think I can explain the present difficulty. Mrs. W, the missionary's wife, who generally superintends the sales, has been absent from ill-health, and the lady who undertook the business in her place was unused to the kind of thing and managed it badly. I heard something of the kind from my friends in India, who know the place. Mrs. W. was to return about this time, and I think you will find that she will be able to dispose of whatever has not been spoiled, and that you will soon receive an encouraging letter from her. She is a very practical person. I was helping her at one time, and I know that boxes of work have been her chief support. Your other box, the one sent to N-, sold well, I understand."

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"I begged particularly," interposed Mrs. Elwood, "in the note I sent, that a memorandum might be made of what my things came to."

Rose Harford's amusement at this speech was almost beyond her power of concealment; for she well remembered, as did Mrs. Weston and I, the very unsaleable nature of good Mrs. Elwood's contributions, and felt sure fetched, it would hardly have been a very laudatory or cheering one. that had it been possible to furnish a memorandum of the price they had

Mrs. Lambert resumed, "One friend of mine had sent such a particularly handsome bag; and then Miss Thompson's lovely banner-screens, if one could have known what they fetched!"

"I should rather doubt the screens selling at all, unless some one who was going back to Europe took a fancy to them," said Miss Thornley. "But I beg your pardon, Mrs. Lambert, I was going to ask you if you ever took part in a sale of work at home ? "

"I had a table for the new hospital at C Lambert.

last year," said Mrs.

"Could you have told exactly, at the end of the day, what each article or even set of articles, sold for, and to whom?"

"Well, I don't know, I never tried; I suppose it would not have been easy, but there was no need for it."

"I should doubt if the strongest need could make it possible, if the sale were conducted on a large scale," said Miss Thornley; "but I should say that in any country it would be as hopeless to follow the history of every article as to tell exactly which of the seeds dropped broadcast into the ground produced the largest ear of corn. Surely it should be enough for the workers to know that the fruit of their labours was generally useful and successful; and that, I think, they will always find where the station is well selected and the work good-except in some very peculiar accidental case like the one just mentioned, and I believe you will find that will right itself."

"But it was not only the want of details about work which troubled us," resumed Mrs. Lambert. "Our great disappointment-my friends and mine has been about the orphans."

"Indeed! I am surprised to hear that. May I ask how?"

"We had adopted several-and they all seem to die, or turn out ill, or something-and then one never has any interesting accounts of them, as we naturally expected!"

The entrance of letters interrupted Miss Thornley's answer; and Mrs. Weston seeing that one was from Mrs. Jackson, our correspondent of the Indian orphanage, asked if she might open it at once.

"Oh, pray do," cried several voices, "and tell us all about the orphans." The letter began by saying that Mrs. Jackson had availed herself of the continuance of the contribution of the Southbridge Sunday Scholars' Union, for the support of another protegèe, for whom she had been promised help from another quarter, which had never been sent. She said she could not be thankful enough for the timely aid from Southbridge, as her regular funds were so low she was often embarrassed how to find food for her little flock. "Chunee, the little girl I have chosen," she continued, " is a quiet, obedient, well-disposed child, and I hope will do well. I need not ask our kind friends to remember her in prayer." "Not a word of little Violetta," was Mrs. Lambert's aside, in a tone of much disappointment.

"Nor of Jessie," added Mrs. Elwood.

Mrs. Weston continued, as soon as silence had been resumed: "Please tell the kind ladies who are supporting the little girls, whom they have named Edith Violetta and Jessie Graham, that both are doing well. Neither of them are very quick in learning, but they are steady and wellconducted; and Jessie's health, which had been delicate, is improving." "And is that all ?" inquired both ladies, eagerly.

"All about these two girls. She gives a nice account of the school, which seems to be prospering, and she speaks of the timely help she had from a box of work which arrived when her supplies had nearly failed."

"Ah, yes, that is all very well," rejoined Mrs. Lambert; "but still I do think it hard, that when we take the pains to raise the money, the missionary lady can't take the trouble of giving a few more details to those who take so strong an interest in them, about the child they support. The least she could do would be to write a letter from time to time giving an account of the child."

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"What difficulties can there be?" cried the irrepressible Mrs. Lam. bert. "One letter a year-"

"But if a letter is written for each adopted child-and one must do it with all or none in such a case-how many would require to be written by our missionary's wife?" persisted Miss Thornley.

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Oh, I don't know; it would not be much, I suppose." "The lady I was helping for several years at

"resumed our friend, “had about five-and-thirty orphans maintained by different friends at home or by associations of workers, and many I know have twice that number. Now, suppose there were but two dozen; even then the lady must, on your plan, write two letters a month about the children; and that is no trifle."

"Well, I should have said that even three or four in a month was not much to complain of," said Mrs. Elwood.

"Not to those who are leading quiet, easy home lives; but if you could see one day of mission life abroad, as I have seen and shared it for years, you would understand that every fresh letter is a heavy burden." "I wish you would give us a sketch of the day of a missionary lady," said Rose.

"Willingly," replied Miss Thornley.

But her account must begin another chapter. (To be continued.)

SKETCHES OF THE PUNJAB MISSION. BY THE AUTHOR OF "MORAVIAN LIFE IN THE BLACK FOREST," &c. II. The Field of Labour.

EFORE proceeding with the history of the Mission, let us turn aside for a moment to take a glance at the Punjab itself.

The Punjab takes its name from a compound word signifying "five rivers "-Panch, "five," and ab, "water" or "river." These rivers are all branches of the Indus, and their names are the Sutlej, the Beas, the Ravi, the Chenab, and the Jhelum. With one exception they are only partially navigable. In the winter and spring the water is very shallow, but in the summer, when the snow begins to melt on the mountains, it also begins to increase, until at last, in the rainy season, when not only for days, but for whole weeks together, the clouds empty themselves in torrents, the rivers swell so immensely and so suddenly that people who are wading through the usual low tide of water, and who are only twelve or fourteen feet from the shore, cannot reach it again, as the flood comes rushing up, carrying before it whatever may come in its way, and raising the water mark from two or three to ten and twelve feet. Even the most expert swimmer has then no hope of escape. No rainy season passes in which men do not lose their lives in this manner. Ordinary bridges become entirely useless, and communication can only be carried on in one of two ways-if in the plains, by means of large boats, and if in the mountains, by ferrying over on air-tight ox-hides.

In the mountains the eye is delighted everywhere with lovely flowers, growing wherever the earth is deep enough for their roots. Many of them are familiar home friends, as, for instance, primroses, violets, forget-me-nots, and many other of our field flowers, intermixed with others less known to the European. Further south, in the district of Multan, between the Sutlej and the Chenab, where rain hardly ever falls, the valley is converted by means of canals into a succession of beautiful gardens, shaded by date-palms. There is a burning sun above, and canals flowing below. During the winter the water of the rivers is not sufficiently high to enter the canals, some of which are artificially excavated, while others are merely channels abandoned by the streams; but as the rivers rise in the spring, from the melting of Himalayan snows, the water gradually enters the channels, which obtain their maximum volume in summer; so that when water is most needed, from April to October, when the sky is brass and the earth iron, the inundation canals produce luxuriant crops. The corn, before yielding its grain, is twice mown down

as fodder for cattle; then it ears, and produces abundant harvests; while mangoes, oranges, and pomegranates grow in profusion. The climate in the plains of the Punjab is very different from that of the hills, and were it not that there is a cool dry season from October to March, no European constitution could well endure it. The most unhealthy time of the year is that which immediately follows the rainy season. Vegetables then decay, and cause much miasma under the heat of the autumn sun, which still makes itself felt with considerable power. The consequences are fever, dysentery, and too often cholera. The powerful and unpleasant influence of the excessive moisture towards the end of the rainy season can scarcely be imagined. The heavy, hot, damp, clinging atmosphere depresses one entirely, and causes besides much damage to all goods and chattels. On the other hand, the first rains which come to break the trying monotony of the hot season are truly refreshing and delightful. Even one violent downpour, which has flooded the country for a day, or perhaps only for a few hours, changes the aspect of everything, and one feels as if inspired with new life. One drives out to inhale (to eat, as the natives say) the freshened air, and behold! the parched-up plain has been transformed as if by magic into a verdant meadow-land, enamelled with flowers and dotted with bright lakelets interlaced with serpentining streams. One thinks of the twenty-third Psalm. Flocks of sheep and goats are scattered over the green pastures; beside the still waters herds of cattle feed; wild birds hover over the pools, and buffaloes wade and wallow in sleepy enjoyment in the ditches. Everywhere there is life, and one seems to see the vegetation grow. But the early rains cease, and the heat sets in again and becomes more terrible than ever.

To get any fresh air at this season one must go out soon after daybreak, for immediately after sunrise the heat makes it dangerous for any European to be out of doors. The houses are then shut up and darkened with padded curtains until evening, when again a little fresh air is sought, but, alas! too often a dry, fiery wind is blowing from the hot sandy plains of the Indus, and refreshment is sought in vain.

In the cold season a variety of useful vegetables thrive, both native and European; amongst the latter, turnips, carrots, and potatoes, side by side with orange, citron, and pomegranate trees, and other beautiful exotics. Wheat and barley are sown in October and November, and reaped in March and April. Pulse and maize are sown immediately after the wheat harvest, as they will only thrive in the rainy season. The large fields of broad-leaved, feathery maize, whether in flower or ear, are a very pleasant sight in the Punjab plains; so are the vast tracts of crimson buckwheat in the mountains. The rice-grounds in their bright garb of early green or later gold are ever lovely; so are the cotton plantations, with their rich-hued, cup-shaped blossoms, and seed-pods bursting with the wealth of snowy down. In many parts sugar-cane is grown, also indigo and flax, whilst hemp is found wild in the mountains.

To the botanist and geologist the mountains of the Punjab afford a wide field for investigation.

The Himalayas are rich, too, in all sorts of lovely birds, with beautiful plumage, but very little song. Peacocks are found in large numbers, and the eagle, vulture, and falcon live there unmolested. Although the forests of the Punjab are in the present day so comparatively few as to cause a great scarcity of wood, they are yet sufficient, at least in the mountains, and harbour many wild animals, especially wild boars and wolves, the brown and black bear, and the leopard. The latter prowls in the neighbourhood of flocks and herds, but a couple of the large bear-like sheep dogs are a match for him. The leopard is also found in the plains of the Punjab, as well as the hyena, in considerable numbers. It is calculated that at least a hundred native children fall a sacrifice to this terrible beast in the course

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MAP OF THE PUNJAB.

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of each year. In the heat of May or June the poor Hindu mother sleeps outside her hut for the sake of coolness, or on the low flat roof, with her little child in her arms. When she is wrapped in a deep sleep the cunning hyena slinks by, snatches the babe from her arms, and disappears in a moment before any one is aware of what has happened. The shrill unearthly cry of the jackal may often be heard around the house, and the traveller is haunted by it as he journeys through the night.

Several poisonous snakes are found in the mountains of the Punjab, amongst them the dangerous cobra di capella, the bite of which will kill in a quarter of an hour, unless suitable antidotes can be immediately used. Europeans are not often bitten, but natives, who are less cautious, and who often go about barefoot, are continually the victims of snakebites.

The towns of the Punjab are by no means inconsiderable. The principal of them are Lahore,

AN OLD SIKH.

Amritsar, Peshawur, Multan, and Delhi.

Lahore is the political capital. It is situated on the Ravi, and is fortified. Here is to be seen the splendid marble monument under which repose the ashes of Runjeet Singh, the most celebrated of the rulers of the Sikhs. (See the picture in our last number.)

Amritsar is the chief commercial town, and also the centre of the Sikh religion. The merchant from Calcutta brings hither cotton goods from Manchester; the Affghan brings woollen stuffs and horses, dried fruit, and grapes, packed singly in cotton wool. From Thibet come borax and pushm, the fine downy hair from the coat of the pushm goat. The coarser part is made into a sort of felt, whilst the down is woven into Cashmere shawls. The largest firms of Paris and London have their agents in Amritsar. But here, too, of far more importance, is the great temple of the Sikhs, a splendid building of marble surmounted by many

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