Morning Star

For the Morning Star.

A Night in the Forest.

The winds had moaned themselves to sleep and the moon and pale stars were hid behind the gathering clouds. The day had been a pleasing one. The verdant foliage and ripening fruit of July adorned the plains with the most exquisite beauty and luxury the mind can conceive, and all the birds of summer appeared as happy as if they did not know what to do with themselves But the mantle of night had now hid the fair prospect from my view, and the warblers had found their resting place in the lonely wood's dark shade.

The cawing of the doleful raven and the screaming of the owl were heard alone from the mountain's brow. It was now eleven o'clock. I had this day traveled seventy miles, the last eight of which I had walked. The remainder of my way lay through a dense forest of some six miles, without an inhabitant. I had proceeded but one or two miles of this solitary way, when the muttering thunders in the distance, gave the certain alarm of an approaching tempest. The roar grew more and more terrific as the storm approached, till it seemed as if all the artillery of heaven was poured in one broad-side from the cloudy fort, and the livid lightnings blazed along the battery. The rain now came down in torrents. But I no longer groped my way in darkness among the dripping shrubbery, as the almost constant lightning's flash was my faithful lamp.

I had hardly begun to think how wet I should soon be, when that Savior, who, when on earth had no place to lay his head—gave me a shelter from the storm. It was a 'stable,' made for the purpose of protecting the weary beast of burden from the chilly blasts of mid-winter, when these huge trees are drawn away. This bark-covered hovel was surrounded with briers and underwood, but it was a shelter still.

After forcing my way through, and opening the door with some difficulty, I found a fine heap of straw, in one corner of which I made a bed "in the manger."

The storm raged with awful grandeur without, but I was secure, and my reflections were sweet. I this morning left a group of happy converts in New York State, where God's power has been displayed in saving souls. O how happy was I while with them. I can almost hear them sing, though separated by more than seventy miles. But they are now all locked in the arms of sleep. Sleep on, precious souls, for God is your protector and mine. Kings and Emperors may revel in their grand saloons among goblets of wine, but the humble embassador of Christ with a guiltless soul can be happy in a stable in the midst of a forest.

When I had returned thanks to God, my eyes closed in sleep, and I forgot the ills of life till day-break ; and at sunrise I was in the vicinity of my brethren in Lincoln, Vermont.

ISAAC G. DAVIS.

Roxbury, Mass. Jan. 12th, 1843.