The Holy Land.
JERUSALEM, June 17, 1839.


I am sure you will be glad to hear from your brother in the ministry, in this land trodden by the feet of "God manifest in the flesh." My thoughts wander continually to the spot where God first counted me faithful, putting me into the ministry; where, for two years, He made me a happy minister of the gospel, and where I believe I have many praying friends who will not forget me so long as I live. In these sweet remembrances–whether in the vales of Italy, or on the mighty waters, or in the waste howling wilderness, or in this land of promise you and your family have their constant place. I doubt not also that you often think and talk of me. When some Church Extension expedition has turned out well, you will say, "What would our travelling friend say to this? "Or when the liberties of our Church are infringed, and the arm of unhallowed power is raised against her, you perhaps think a moment, "How will our traveller bear this? "I am thankful to Him who dwelt in the bush that we are all here in safety, and I myself in moderate health, quite able to endure the fatigues of travelling, although these have been very great. You would hear of our swift journey through France, and our pleasant stay in Italy. Malta was the next place of interest we came to. It is a very lovely island, having customs from every nation almost under heaven. It is highly important as a centre of missionary operations, having a printing-press, and some useful, excellent men employed. In riding round its rocky shore, we looked on every creek with interest, remembering Paul's shipwreck here, and his three months' stay in the island. The atmosphere is truly pleasant, and the sky has a peculiarly fine tinge of yellowish red. We had a pleasant sail past Greece, and among the wonderful islands of the Ægean Sea. We landed on one called Syra, and saw the mission actively engaged, six hundred Greek children reading God's word in Greek. The same evening we sailed between Naxos and Paros, where the beautiful marble was found, and stretched our eyes to see Patmos, where the beloved John wrote the Revelation. We could only see the waves that washed its shore. We passed Crete, and read the Epistle to Titus with a new interest.