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GRAVE OF HENRY MARTIN.
the Bible dépôt, a large room in the principal street of the city. There have been sold during the last year, ninety-seven copies of the Scriptures and parts of Scriptures in Armenian, Greek, and Turkish. One hundred and ninety-three copies have also been distributed by the colporteurs in the city, and the towns, and villages around. Here, likewise, the demand is increasing: two hundred additional copies have just been ordered from Constantinople to supply the depository.
"In the afternoon I made a visit to the grave of Henry Martin, who died at Tocat, in 1812. It was most interesting to stand beside the tomb of that devoted missionary, who ‘labored so many years
in the East, and translated the Holy Scriptures into Hindostanee and Persian.' The East India Company are about to erect an elegant monument to his memory, in the grounds of the American mission, where his remains will be removed and deposited. I have just held an interview, this evening, with a converted Mussulman from Aintab. He obtained a copy of the New Testament at Beyroot some years ago, became convinced of the truth of the Gospel, and has since distributed more than one hundred copies among the Kuzul Bashis Koords and Turks around Arabkir. He has changed his name from Mohammed to Kreker, or Gregory, and gone into all the towns and villages of that region, every
LETTER TO HIS MOTHER.
where preaching the Word. I inquired his opinion of the Bible. 'I believe it to be the Word of God,' said he; and Christ is the Son of God, who took upon himself our nature to save sinners. This he did by his atonement and resurrection, and afterward he sent his Holy Spirit to renew us unto newness of life.' I asked him whence hie obtained this knowledge? He replied, “By study. ing the Scriptures alone.' Such is the power of the simple Word of God, to make even a follower of the false prophet wise unto everlasting salvation.
“He is now on his way to Constantinople, to be baptized and fully embrace the Christian religion. “Faithfully and affectionately yours,
"C. N. RIGHTER.”
In a letter to his mother he speaks of his visit to the grave of Henry Martin, in a manner which shows that he was not unprepared in thought to find an early grave near this precious dust. There is something deeply touching and almost prophetic in the thoughts which he expressed on visiting this spot.
Tocat, Oct. 2, 1856. “ I am now upon a journey to the interior stations of the Armenian Missions in Asia Minor, and have time this morning only to write a hasty
HENRY MARTIN'S GRAVE.
note from this most interesting place. Here Henry Martin lies buried—that devoted missionary in the East, who in India translated the Holy Scriptures into Hindustanee and Persian, and died with fever at Tocat, on his journey to Constantinople. I have this afternoon made a visit to his grave. It was just at the hour of sunset. A mild and mellow light was shed over the scene, and I could not but feel my devotion quickened, and faith strengthened beside the last resting-place of this man of God, cut off in early manhood, in the midst of his active labors, in a far distant land. Again a voice came to me• What thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might, for in such an hour as ye think not the Son of Man cometh.'
“ Tocat is beautifully situated at the head of a fertile valley, abounding in gardens, vineyards, and fruit-trees of most luxuriant growth. The missionary brethren came out to welcome us in the name of Christ; and after we had spent a few days with them in delightful Christian intercourse, sent us on our way rejoicing. My travelling companion is the Rev. Henry Jones, secretary of the Turkish Missions Aid Society, a man of devoted piety, and an excellent Christian gentleman. Our object is to visit all the missionary stations in Asia Minor, to witness the work of the Lord in connexion with the Bible cause, and the cause of
missions, and to establish a branch of the Evangelical Alliance as far as may be practicable at each station.
"From Tocat we traversed the bold and rug. ged mountains, constantly viewing picturesque and beautiful scenery, and in two days came to Sivas, a second missionary station of the American Board. We were somewhat alarmed by the reported attacks of robbers by the way, but through the good providence of God, arrived in safety. The missionaries and native brethren came out on horseback, two hours in advance, to give us a cordial welcome. Indeed our whole journey seems more like Pilgrim's Progress than any I have ever yet made. The land is beautiful, and the climate most delightful. Though there are occasional perils and dangers in the way, yet all is the King's country,' and must one day be converted to Christ. At each station, too, we hold such sweet communion and fellowship with our Christian brethren in this far off land, as can only dwell in kindred hearts. We are entertained in the palace called Beautiful,' and sleep in the chamber of Peace,' as at times we repose two or three days from the fatigues of our journey. Here, in Sivas, we administered the communion of the Lord's supper to the little church gathered in the name of Christ, and we did indeed sit together in heavenly places in
Christ Jesus, with his elect ones in this Moslem land. On the morrow we went on our way, escorted by our good friends some distance on the plain, where we parted, commending each other to the blessing of heaven in all our labors.
“In six days, over mountains, through winding valleys and extended plains, we reached the missionary station of Arabkir, in the borders of the ancient Cappadocia. It is a city of gardens in the midst of the mountains, and exceedingly beautiful for situation. Here we were received again by warm Christian hearts, and rejoiced to witness their good work, and cheer them in their arduous labors.
“We also joined in celebrating the communion with them and their native church, and much enjoyed the season. The hearts of the native converts are overflowing with love and gratitude to those who have sent to them the Bible and missionaries of the gospel of Christ. They crowd around us, and shake our hands with tears in
Again we pursued our journey, and at the close of the day came down to the river Euphrates, one of the four rivers that flowed from the Garden of Eden. It runs here with a swift current, through a narrow gorge in the mountainsa broad and noble stream. And inspiring indeed were my first impressions in looking upon this