We have seen grand enterprises commenced and carried on; we have seen our fellow-men gathering imperishable laurels; but never before did the world witness so grand a spectacle, with so high an object to be accomplished by mortals, as was given in the departure of Harriet Newell to teach the lessons of Jesus in distant lands. We consider the career of Napoleon a glorious one. We cannot look upon his successful marches and battles, however much we disapprove his course, without something of admiration mingled with our abhorrence. There was a gorgeous glory which gathered around the character of that emperor of blood which hides his errors and dazzles the eyes of the beholder. But the true glory which gathered over that little band of missionaries, as they left the snow-covered, icebound coast of America, to find homes and graves in distant India, far outshines all the glitter of pomp and imperial splendor which ever shed its rays upon the brilliant successes of the monarch of France, the conqueror of Europe. True, they went forth alone. No weeping church followed them to the water side; no crowded shore sent up its wail, or echoed forth the fervent prayer; but in the homes of the people, in the heart of God, these holy men and women were remembered. Had that beautiful hymn been composed for them, it could not have been more appropriate; and as they stood upon the deck of the wave-washed Caravan, it must have been the sentiments of all their hearts. "Scenes of sacred grace and pleasure, Holy days and Sabbath bell, Richest, brightest, sweetest treasure, Can I say a last farewell? Can I leave you, Far in distant lands to dwell? Yes, I hasten from you gladly-- From the scenes I loved so well; Far away, ye billows, bear me; Lovely, native land, farewell! Pleased I leave thee, Far in heathen lands to dwell. In the desert let me labor; On the mountain let me tell How he died--the blessed Savior-- To redeem a world from hell; Let me hasten Far in heathen lands to dwell."