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way, however wearied I might be, he lost no opportunity of promoting the most blessed object, so dear to his heart. Scarcely had we arrived at any mission station, when his inquiries would be for the Bible store, if there was one, and what arrangements could be made for the distribution of the Word of God, and his anxieties would never cease until he had accomplished his object. Nor did he confine his labors to those who were likely to appreciate them. He would spare no pains to obtain an entrance for the Bible when all others had failed to procure one. Well do I remember his dragging me over many weary miles to give the Bible to the Yezidees, or Devil-worshippers, and when he had succeeded, by dint of most judicious management and prayerful anxiety in obtaining a promise from the Yezidee chief and his priest, to read the Word of God, his joy was unbounded, and his prayers most fervent that God would bless it to the conversion and salvation of that benighted people. Such was his life; and his death, though it occurred in a far-off land and far away from the home of his fondest earthly affections, was attended with many circumstances which cannot fail to afford satisfaction and comfort to the friends who loved him so dearly."

The correspondent of the London Christian Times makes the following record of the event in a letter to that paper:

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"CONSTANTINOPLE, Jan. 8, 1857. "News has just reached this city of the sudden death of the Rev. C. N. Righter, at Diarbekir, on the 16th ult. He was the Agent of the American Bible Society in Turkey, and the Corresponding Secretary of the Constantinople Branch of the Evangelical Alliance. He left this place in September last, in company with the Rev. Henry Jones, Secretary of the Turkish Missions' Aid Society, for a tour in Asia Minor and Armenia, for the purpose of visiting all the missionary stations of the American Board. They proceeded as far as Mosul, and came, on their return, to Diarbekir, where Mr. Righter sickened of fever, and died within a very few days. He was, in many respects, a rare man, and his loss will be most deeply felt in this country and in America. He was, emphatically, 'a burning and a shining light,' laboring with untiring zeal, for the spread of God's Word among all classes of the population of Turkey, and at the same time endeavoring, by all means, to promote throughout this land the great objects of the Evangelical Alliance. And I may mention, for the interest it will excite in Britain, that during the war Mr. Righter was unwearied in his endeavors to furnish the soldiers of the allied armies, and also the Russian prisoners, with the Bible in their own vernacular tongue; and with this end in view, he

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even went to the Crimea, during that first winter of horrors, and was the means of administering comfort to many a poor, sick, and dying soldier, thus literally inheriting the 'blessing of him who was ready to perish.'

The following was furnished to the New York Observer by Wm. C. Prime, Esq., Mr. Righter's travelling companion in Syria :

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"MY DEAR BROTHER-I feel deeply the loss of our friend Righter, and I cannot avoid giving you some of my personal recollections of him, as the companion of my last year's wanderings. He surprised me one evening at Thebes, by entering the cabin of my Nile boat, when I did not dream of an American being within a hundred or many hundred miles. My beard and bronzed face were as strange to him as his to me. We did not recognise each other.

"I saw an American flag, and came over the river, hoping to meet an American,' said he. "'You are right. I am from New York. My name is Prime.'

"Is it possible? and mine is Righter.'

“I need not tell you my delight at this meeting. He passed the evening with me, and we talked over his adventures with you two years

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before, as we strolled by moonlight through the vast corridor of the temple of Luxor, under the side of which my boat lay.

"I met him again at Cairo, and he went with me to Jerusalem. It was not till after our arrival in the Holy City that he made up his mind to accept our invitation to join us for a few months of tent life on the hills of the Holy Land. He did at length join us, and was one of our little family of four who went wandering in the footsteps of the Lord and the Apostles last spring, and whom, as the companion of many thrilling scenes, I shall never forget until I forget Jerusalem.

"We bathed together in the Jordan, and in the Dead Sea; we studied together the page on which Abraham read the number of his children, as brilliant nowhere as it is above the oaks of Mamre; we were together cast away by a gale of wind on the Sea of Galilee; snowed under three days on the side of Mount Hermon; went to Damascus, to Baalbec, Beyrout, Tarsous, Rhodes, Smyrna, and Constantinople together: and during all this time of constant hourly intercourse by day and night, there was no one word of jarring, no difference of plan, nor anything that I can now recal of him, other than the most entire amiability, warm-heartedness (if I may use the word), and earnestness of desire to make all of

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us happy. You will not think it strange that M- and myself formed a warm attachment to him, and feel this affliction, as you said last week, like the loss of a brother.

"I remember with the utmost pleasure his constant cheerfulness. Nothing overcame it. First up in the morning, he would always make the air around the tents ring with a pleasant morning song, and when, as not unfrequently, our position was perilous or disheartening, he was never discouraged.

"His frank, hearty piety was always before us. He never yielded in a matter of duty one hair'sbreadth. I remember especially the day of our approach to Damascus. It was Saturday. We had been under snow three days on Hermon, but determined this morning to reach the plain and the city if possible. As the sun was setting, my chief muleteer informed me that the mules could not go on. It was still eight miles to Damascus, of which the minarets and domes were shining in the red sunlight above its groves and gardens. I ordered a halt around the baggage, and soon found that it was probably impossible to reach the city. Righter alone differed from me, but solely on his own account. He had told me in starting with us, that he could not travel on Sunday, and such was my own intention also. I now regarded it as my duty to remain with the

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