"DEAR MADAM,--Your kind favour arrived in the Bay of Islands September 7, the evening I returned from a long journey. I had no sooner cast my eye over your letter, than busy imagination transported me from the solitary woods, dreary wastes, and savage society of New Zealand, into 'the polished corner' of Guilford-street, and surrounded me with every cordial that could refresh the weary traveller, revive the fainting spirits, and blow the languishing spark of Christian love with a heavenly flame. I had literally been living for weeks a savage life, as far as outward circumstances went. I ate, I slept in the thick wood, in a cave, or on the banks of a river, or sea, with my native companions, wherever the shadows of the evening, or gathering storm compelled us to seek for shelter. Every day as I advanced from tribe to tribe, I was introduced to new acquaintances; my object was to gain from observation and experience that knowledge of savage life which I could not learn from books, and to make myself well acquainted with the wants, wishes, and character of the native inhabitants, to enable me, if my life should be spared, to aid to the utmost of my power in their deliverance from their present temporal miseries, which are great upon them, and from their much sorer bondage to the prince of darkness. I am happy in having obtained this object to a certain extent, at the expense of a few temporal privations, and a little bodily evil. When I have lain down upon the ground after a weary day's journey, wrapped up in my great coat, surrounded only by cannibals, I often thought how many thousands are there in civil life, languishing upon beds of down, and saying, with Job, 'in the evening would God it were morning,' while I could sleep free from fear or pain, far remote from civil society under the guardian care of him who keepeth Israel. Though I everywhere met with the greatest kindness from the natives, as well as hospitality, for they always gave me the best fern-root, potato, or fish in their possession, yet I could never have duly estimated the sweets of civil life, and the still greater mental gratification of Christian communion, if I had not passed through these dark regions of Satan's dominions, on which the dayspring from on high hath never cast a single ray. You cannot conceive how great a feast your letter was, after so long a fast. I was instantly present with every person you mentioned, and lived over again some of those happy moments I once spent under your hospitable roof. A sacred warmth flowed round my soul, my heart was sweetly melted under the influence of that pure and undefiled religion which dropped from your pen, like the heavenly dew, as it ran through every line. What shall we call those pure sensations that thus warm and captivate the soul? Do they flow