cast away on the shores of western Africa. I spoke to him about his soul. He seemed much affected, and shed tears. After a few moment's pause, he said, "I have been a very wicked fellow, but I have never lost the early impressions I had in relation to my responsibility to God. The little Testament my sister gave me, I have kept when stript of every thing else. I have read it when the other sailors around me were asleep. I knew they did'nt understand my feelings, and they would only laugh at me. I have often prayed, but then I would soon become as wicked as ever. I have thought of you, sir, often, and of the sermons I used to hear. When I sat naked on the burning sand in Africa, I thought of many serious things, which I had heard from your lips, and I tried to pray. Yes, that was an awful time! We were cast away--our vessel was lost--three or four of us got ashore and were saved. But we were immediately stript of every rag of covering, and for three months I wandered over the sands of Africa, naked as when I came into the world, and living as I could snatch a little fruit here and there. I at length found my way to Liberia, and was sent to America by the Governor of that colony." He then told me that for several years past, he had been on the lakes. I asked him if he was happy. He said "No, never, except in a storm, when every thing around me seems going to destruction. Then I become excited and feel a sort of mad happiness." I entreated him to bethink himself of his ways, and turn unto the Lord. He said he did not think it would do any good; that he was too far gone, and that if he prayed ever so much, or made ever so many resolutions, in a few days he was as bad as ever. I endeavored to point out where the difficulty lay. He went to church with me that evening, and seemed solemn and affected. Poor fellow, I know not what will be his end! I fear there are many youths of our land going on just in this same path. _Cleveland, August 2d._ Yesterday I took leave of Detroit on board the steamboat "United States" for this place, which we reached this morning. On our way here, we visited Toledo, in Ohio, which stands on the Maumee River, about ten miles from its mouth. This is a place of some notoriety, but although we stopped there several hours, I found very little to interest me. There were not a few indications that it was a place where iniquity abounded. Though a place of considerable size, the institutions of the gospel have found very little foothold as yet. I was told, though I cannot vouch for the correctness of the account, that some time ago, when an effort was about being made to establish some religious society here, a public meeting was called, and they voted that they would have no such thing in their town. I hope they have come to a better mind before this.