fulfil JXL 
GENADENDAL, A MORAVIAN MISSIONARY' SETTLE M ENT IN SOUTH A ERICA. 
“ Iii distant Europe oft I've longed tu see 
Tins ijhIkI. Vale of (Jraee; to li<t I lie sound 
Of lolling brooks and moaning turtle* round 
The apostle Selmiidt's old consecrated tree 
To bear the hymns of solemn melody 
Rising from the sequestered burial-ground; 
To sec the heathen taught, the lost sheep found 
The blind restored, the long-oppressed set free 
All this I’ve witnessed now, and pleasantly 
Its memory shall in my heart remain; 
Hut. yet more close familiar lies there he, 
That bind me to this spot with grateful chain.” 
Pbinoi.b. 
AnorT ninety miles from Cape Town, in the district of Zwellendam, and not. far from the winding Zonder-einde 
River, embosomed amidst mountains, lies the sweet Valley of Genadendal, or Gmidenthal, which signifies “The Vale of 
Grace." In this secluded and peaceful valley is an extensive Hottentot village, established by the Moravians, whose 
labours amongst this despised and benighted people have been crowned with great success. About the middle of last 
century, George Schmidt, a Moravian missionary, first established a mission amongst the Hottentots, and obtained a 
grant from the Dutch Government, to form a settlement in this valley. The site of the pear-tree, beneath the shade 
of which the venerable Schmidt was accustomed to preach to the Hottentots, is still pointed out; but another pear-tree 
has taken its place, and the spot is marked by a rustic seat. 
The present number of Hottentot inhabitants at Genadendal is 2837. There were Iasi year 61 deaths and 116 births; 
there are 864 communicants in the church of the United Brethren. The settlement contains 268 solid houses, and 260 
huts and reed buildings, all the work of the Christian Hottentots, w'hose dwellings—many of them, at least—display 
great cleanliness and many personal comforts of civilised life. Most of the inhabitants support themselves by the produce 
of their gardens, and work for the neighbouring farmers. Not a few of them possess bullock-waggons, and in these they 
convey their produce to the Cape Town market. Peace and quietness, order and repose, seem to preside over this 
happy village, anti the brethren, in attending to the. spiritual wants of the people amongst whom they have established 
themselves, have not been forgetful, as is sometimes the case, of their temporal need and advancement, but have, in the 
true spirit of wisdom and charity, made Christianity and emlinothm go hand in hand. There are, besides the superin- 
tendant and his wife, about ten brethren with their wives and families, who have each their own department to attend to. 
One, for instance, is a cutler, another a cabinet-maker, another a tanner, and so on; and in their workshops the young 
people are instructed in these several trades. Then there are the schools for the children of both sexes, in which, besides 
reading the Scriptures and writing, the higher branches of education, such as drawing, history, the globes, geography, 
and grammar, are taught daily. 
Some of the author’s happiest days were spent at Genadendal. in company with a young friend who has since been 
lost at sea; and this, mingled with the kindness and hospitality of the excellent missionaries and their wives, the 
interesting Hottentot population, and the extreme loveliness of the surrounding scenery, has caused a feeling of attach¬ 
ment not to he overcome. 
On a Sabbath morning the voice of sacred song ascends from the rustic chapel, in the midst of its venerable grove 
of oaks, harmonising finely with the quiet seclusion of this beautiful spot. But it is on Easter morn that Gmidenthal 
presents a solemn and imposing scene. As the first rays of the rising sun gild the slopes of the Groeteberg and the 
Thimdcrbcrg, the brethren and sisters, together with the converts-—the women arrayed in white—assemble in the secluded 
burial-ground, beneath the shade of the autumnal trees that overshadow it. And there, as the decaying leaves fall upon 
the graves of the loved and departed ones, they all, with one voice, sing the Easter Hymn. The. clear, rich melody of 
their voices, echoing amidst the surrounding mountains, has an indescribable effect, which one can never forget ; and (hey 
go on singing till the sun’s slant rays fall on the rose-garnished graves at their feet, telling of the resurrection from 
♦ he dead, and shining with a bright and happy light upon the inscription above the wooden gateway; although as you 
enter you read the words “sown in weakness" yet inside, where the sun shines, you mark legibly the words of hope. 
“ raised in power.'’ 
