l
harvest, and what need that the attention of all the churches in
England and America should be drawn to this very object!"

Two years after the establishment of the mission at Serampore, David
Brown, the senior chaplain and provost of Fort William College, took
possession of Aldeen House, which he occupied till the year of his
death in 1812. The house is the first in the settlement reached by
boat from Calcutta. Aldeen is five minutes' walk south of the
Serampore Mission House, and a century ago there was only a park
between them. The garden slopes down to the noble river, and commands
the beautiful country seat of Barrackpore, which Lord Wellesley had
just built. The house itself is embosomed in trees, the mango, the
teak, and the graceful bamboo. Just below it, but outside of
Serampore, are the deserted temple of Bullubpoor and the Ghat of the
same name, a fine flight of steps up which thousands of pilgrims flock
every June to the adjoining shrine and monstrous car of Jagganath.
David Brown had not been long in Aldeen when he secured the deserted
temple and converted it into a Christian oratory, ever since known as
Henry Martyn's Pagoda. For ten years Aldeen and the pagoda became the
meeting-place of Carey and his Nonconformist friends, with Claudius
Buchanan, Martyn, Bishop Corrie, Thomason, and the little band of
evangelical Anglicans who, under the protection of Lords Wellesley and
Hastings, sweetened Anglo-Indian society, and made the names of
"missionary" and of "chaplain" synonymous. Here too there gathered, as
also to the Mission House higher up, many a civilian and officer who
sought the charms of that Christian family life which they had left
behind. A young lieutenant commemorated these years when Brown was
removed, in a pleasing elegy, which Charles Simeon published in the
Memorials of his friend. Many a traveller from the far West still
visits the spot, and recalls the memories of William Carey and Henry
Martyn, of Marshman and Buchanan, of Ward and Corrie, which linger
around the fair scene. When first we saw it the now mutilated ruin was
perfect, and under the wide-spreading banian tree behind a Brahman was
reciting, for a day and a night, the verses of the Mahabharata epic to
thousands of listening Hindoos.

"Long, Hoogli, has thy sullen stream
Been doomed the cheerless shores to lave;
Long has the Suttee's baneful gleam
Pale glimmered o'er thy midnight wave.

"Yet gladden