Title: The Annual Monitor for 1851 - or, Obituary of the members of the Society of Friends in Great - Britain and Ireland, for the year 1850
Author: Anonymous
Language: English
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Transcribed from the 1850 C. Gilpin, R. Y. Clarke, and Co. edition by
David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org

NEW SERIES, No 9.



THE ANNUAL MONITOR FOR 1851.


OR
OBITUARY
OF THE
MEMBERS OF THE SOCIETY OF FRIENDS
In Great Britain and Ireland,
FOR THE YEAR 1850.

LONDON:
SOLD BY C. GILPIN, R. Y. CLARKE, AND CO., DARTON AND CO.,
AND E. MARSH: GEORGE HOPE, YORK.

1850.



INTRODUCTORY ESSAY.


We have again to present to our friends the Report of the Annual
Mortality in the Society of Friends, in Great Britain and Ireland.  It
has frequently been observed, how nearly the number of deaths in each
year has approximated, but we have this year to notice a considerable
diminution in the annual return.  We are not disposed, however, to
attribute the diminished numbers, chiefly to any special cause connected
with health, but consider it rather as one of those fluctuations which
are ever found to arise in a series of years, in the mortality of a small
community.  The number of the dying, however, may be expected to bear, as
respects the average, a pretty uniform relation to the number of the
living.  And if the fact be, as all our late inquiries lead us to believe
it is, that we are, though slowly, a diminishing body, we must expect
that our average number of deaths will also be found gradually to
diminish.

We have often anxiously pondered over the question,--Why the Society of
Friends should be a diminishing body?  And we propose to give in this
place a few of the thoughts which have been suggested to us in the course
of our consideration.

In the first place, let us notice the natural causes which tend to the
decrease of our Society.  We have formerly shown that the mortality among
our members is less than in the community at large, which so far as it
extends, is of course a reason for the increase rather than the
diminution of our numbers.  But then we have, on the other side, the well-
ascertained fact, that whilst in the community at large, the registered
births exceed the deaths, by 45 per cent; in the Society of Friends, the
registered deaths actually exceed the births!  The cause of this fact is
to be found, not only in connection with the number who marry out of the
Society, but also in the operation of that prudential check on entering
into the married state, which will always prevail amongst a moral people,
where the means of subsistence cannot easily and with certainty be
obtained.  But to whatever we may attribute the cause, the fact itself is
a complete answer to the question--Why we are a diminishing rather than
an increasing people?

It may be said,--Why are not our religious principles aggressive?--Why,
if they be true, do they not find converts among the various Christian
communities of our land?--Why, as in the early times of our Society, are
there not numerous conversions, and fresh bodies of warm-hearted, and
sound-minded believers, added to our numbers?--These are deeply important
and very interesting questions, and we are willing to offer a few
thoughts upon them, with the seriousness and modesty with which it
becomes us to speak on the subject.

We believe, that a mistaken view prevails, in regard to the truest
Christian principle being that which will be accepted by the largest
number of persons.  The experience of all the past ages of the Church
contradicts the assumption, and shows clearly that there is in man a deep-
seated opposition to the acceptance of divine truth in its purity and
simplicity.  True vital religion has ever called for the service of man's
heart to God, and in every age, this allegiance has been the state of the
_few_, rather than of the _many_.  The history of the ancient church is
full of illustrations of this truth.  Whilst Moses lingered on the Mount,
whence the children of Israel knew that the law was to be given, and from
whence such evident demonstrations of the divine power had been manifest
to the people, they were employed in making the golden calf to go before
them, and crying "these are thy Gods, O Israel!"  And when they had
received the law, written by the finger of God, and were somewhat humbled
under the correction of their sins, how few were there, who carried out
its injunctions in their genuine spirit, and how many were there, who
from time to time, defiled themselves by the idolatrous service of other
gods.  Even when brought by a strong hand, and an outstretched arm,
attended by many palpable miracles which were wrought on their behalf,
they were seated in the "Land flowing with milk and honey," which had
been promised to their fathers; how prone were they constantly to desert
even the profession of their faith, and to serve the gods of the nations
which they were sent to destroy; yet in all these times there were a few,
and it was probably comparatively but a _few_, who had not bowed the knee
to Baal.

We have evidence of the same fact in the history of Christianity.  The
beautiful example of the Saviour, and the wonderful miracles which he
performed--all for the good of man--failed to attract the high boasted
reason of the Greek, or the Roman, or to soften the obduracy of the blind
and hard Pharisaic hearted Jew: it was still the _few_ who had sympathy
with the character He exhibited, and the truths which He spoke, and who
found Him to be to their souls "the power of God unto salvation."  And
even when these few were gathered together, and under the extraordinary
effusion of the Holy Spirit, many were added to them, and "the multitude
of them that believed were of one heart and one soul," they were still
comparatively but a _few_.

The further history of the Christian Church may appear to some to exhibit
a different view, but to us it seems not less clearly to illustrate the
same melancholy truth.

It is certain, that during the life-time of the Apostles, many by their
powerful preaching, under the influence of the Holy Spirit, were brought
to repentance and a living faith in Christ, and we know that not a few
sealed their testimony with their blood, yet the simplicity and the
purity of Christianity were soon more or less spoiled by the still
contracted spirit and notions of many of the Jews, or the false
philosophy, not entirely abandoned, of the pagan converts.  We doubt not,
however, that notwithstanding these deteriorating admixtures, there may
be said to have been many--aye, a glorious multitude--who held the truth
in its primitive power, and in a large measure of primitive simplicity.
Still, when these are compared with the whole population of the countries
where the Truth was preached, the real converts must be spoken of as a
_few_, and thus was it evident that there was still an inherent
opposition in man to the restraining and purifying doctrines of the
gospel of Christ.

And when in later years, whole nations and peoples were said to become
Christians, it may well be doubted whether in such times there had not
been as great a reduction of the number of true converts of old standing,
as there was addition of this class amongst the new ones.  Christianity
as professed in those days, had thrown off her simple garb, and had
decorated herself to please the corrupt taste of the people--as the sun
and other heavenly bodies were probably the earliest objects of adoration
to mankind, and were used in the first instance as striking symbols of
the light and power of the one Creator and Father, so did the professors
of Christianity, pretty early present to the people, some intermediate
objects of reverence and love, by which those who turned from the simple
affiance to the one Great Redeemer and High Priest, might find a rest
suited to their carnal, or at least imperfectly spiritual conception of
Christianity.  And when the temporal church boasted of its universal sway
in Europe, and its entire unity, there were probably a smaller number of
true Christians within its pale, than existed in the midst of pagan
persecutions at the close of the apostolic age.

Let us now look at times nearer to our own, when Huss, and Luther, and
Zwingle, by a power not their own, caused many rays of the glorious light
of Truth to shine upon benighted nations, and disturbed the slumbers of
the corrupted church.  Great were, and still are the blessings derived
from the great struggle.  Many of the bonds of Satan were broken, and
many a heavy burdened soul found its long desired rest.  Yet how soon was
even the brightness of this morning dimmed, and how little progress did
the cause of the Reformation make after the departure of the immediate
instruments in the great movement.

In Switzerland, not inaptly called the cradle of the English Reformation,
the Cantons which, in the first instance received the truth and joined
the Protestant cause, continue still to bear the same name, but not one
which at that time retained the designation of Catholic, has since become
Protestant: and at Geneva, where Calvin taught, and where his doctrines
are still professed, opinions which were not less abhorrent to him than
the worst of the errors of popery, are openly maintained.  Those who now
preach the vital truths of the Reformation, are the _few_ not the _many_.

In England, the iron rule of Elizabeth in ecclesiastical matters, and in
particular her requirement of uniformity with respect to the "rags of
Rome," checked the real progress of the Reformation in the English
church, but by a reaction which in the ordering of Divine Wisdom, often
makes the wrath of man to praise him, it appears to have been the means
of raising up an increased antagonism to error, in the persons of men
willing to suffer and to die for the cause of truth.  It will perhaps be
admitted that at many periods of the history of what is called the
English church, whilst its nominal members numbered a large proportion of
the whole population, the actual number of the genuine disciples of
Christ within its pale were in small compass.  The revival in some
measure, of the spirit of its reformers, even in opposition to the letter
of many of its formularies, has, no doubt, in past times, done much to
increase its living influence and usefulness, but recent events have
shown how large a portion of its clergy instead of going forward in the
work of the Reformation, are rather desirous of retrograde movement, and
of approximating, if not of entirely returning to the errors of Rome.
Such, we ought ever to bear in mind, is the natural tendency of man, and
so prone is he, even when raised by the True Light to a perception of the
things which are most excellent, to sink again into the grovelling habits
of his own dark nature.

We come now to the threshold of our own religious history, and shall
endeavour to answer, in substance at least, the queries with which we
commenced the present inquiry.  It was certainly an extraordinary period
of our national religious history, in which the Society of Friends
arose--a time in which old foundations were shaken, and an earnest
inquiry excited in many minds after the way of truth and of real peace to
the soul.  We think that it is not assuming, to express our belief, that
a remarkable extension of spiritual light and energy was extended to the
people of England, in that day, when George Fox, and his early
associates, went forth through the length and breadth of the land, and
found so extraordinary a preparation for their service in the hearts of
their fellow-countrymen.

The first preachers knew a being made Christians themselves, before they
went forth to call others to Christ--what a deep sense of sin and of its
hatefulness in the sight of God--what earnestness, or rather agonizing in
prayer--what joy in the sense of the true knowledge of Christ, and of
communion with him in Spirit--what subsequent watchfulness and reliance
upon him in every step of their course--what zeal in making known the
truth which they had found, and what constancy in suffering for it, yea
thinking it all joy that they were counted worthy to suffer for the name
of Christ!--Such were the men who were heralds of our religious Society,
and by whose instrumentality thousands at least, were convinced of the
truth; large numbers of whom gave evidence that they were not only
convinced, but converted to God.  Need we then wonder at their success?
though still compared with the numbers to which they preached, the
converts may be said to have been _few_.  It was still the _many_, who if
brought to see as it were their face in a glass, went away and
straightway forgot what manner of men they were.

We believe that the number of persons who went under the name of Friends,
in Great Britain and Ireland, at the close of the 17th century, was at
least three times as great as it is at the present time.

It will be in accordance with our object, to endeavour to indicate what
may have been the chief causes of the suspension of those active measures
which we have called aggressive,--though full of love, and which marked
the early periods of our Society.  An historian of the church, who was
not insensible of what constitutes true religious energy, has stated,
that extraordinary revivals of this kind, have rarely been maintained in
their primitive vigour more than about forty years.  Rather more than
that time elapsed between the commencement of George Fox's labours and
their close, at the time of his death.  About eight days previous to that
event, he attended a meeting of ministers, in London, and one of those
who was present says: "I much minded his exhortation to us, encouraging
friends that have gifts to make use of them; mentioning many countries
beyond the seas that wanted visiting, instancing the labours and hard
travels of friends in the beginning of the spreading of truth in our
days, in breaking up of countries, and of the rough ploughing they had in
steeple houses, &c., but that now it was more easy; and he complained,
that there were many Demases and Cains who embraced the present world,
and encumbered themselves with their own business, and neglected the
Lord's, and so were good for nothing; and he said, they that had wives,
should be as though they had none; and who goeth a warfare should not
entangle himself with the things of this world."

This characteristic extract will suggest, probably, to many readers, our
object in quoting it.  If there was cause for the reproof conveyed in it
in that day, in which we know the primitive zeal still burned brightly,
what must we say of the subsequent, and of the present state of our
little church!

Long after the death of George Fox, there continued to be a large
increase to the numbers of friends; many who had been wise and great in
this world, were made to rejoice in the laying down of their outward
wisdom, and in sitting down in deep humility to learn of Jesus, by the
teaching of the Holy Spirit in the heart.  These were prepared boldly to
declare God's controversy with sin, and the means by which it might be
subdued, not omitting to proclaim the alone ground of a sinner's pardon
through the propitiatory sacrifice of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.

We believe certainly that it has never been permitted to our Society to
be without its faithful labourers in the gospel, or without many sincere
confessors of its doctrines, who, by life and conversation, have been
true preachers to their brethren, and to the world in general.  Yet we
must confess, that whilst as a Society, we continue to profess the same
religious views as were held and promulgated by our early Friends, we
fear we do not come up in practice to that pure standard to which they
attained.  The door is open to all the world, yet we sit at ease in our
ceiled houses.  Many around us are hungering and thirsting for the
knowledge of God, yet we are occupied with our farms and our merchandise.
Let us not be inquiring, "What shall this man do," or what should the
other have done? but remembering the reproof, "What is that to thee,
follow _thou_ Me," submit ourselves to that humbling, but preparing hand,
which was so signally displayed in the cause of those who were engaged in
the planting and watering of our religious Society.  Then might we again
hope to witness an increase of spiritual life and vigour in the body, and
thus become as "a city set upon a hill, that could not be hid."



THE ANNUAL MONITOR.  OBITUARY.


Age.  Time of Decease.

HANNAH ABBOTT, _Thorley_, _Essex_.  88 11mo. 19 1849

MARTHA ADY, _London_.  81 3mo. 23 1850

ELIZABETH AIREY, _Kendal_.  Widow.  81 5mo. 6 1850

WILLIAM ALDERSON, _Winterscale_, _Garsdale_, _Yorkshire_.  69 5mo. 2 1850

REBECCA ALEXANDER, _Goldrood_, _Ipswich_.  Widow of Samuel Alexander.  72
12mo. 13 1849

EDWARD ALEXANDER, _Limerick_.  Son of the late Edward Alexander.  20 2mo.
1 1850

JOSEPH ALLEN, _Dunmow_, _Essex_.  A Minister.  76 9mo. 21 1849

SARAH ALLEN, _Bristol_.  A Minister.  77 6mo. 1 1850

ELEANOR ALLEN, _Ballitore_.  Wife of Henry Allen.  49 3mo. 4 1850

ANN ALLIS, _Bristol_.  Wife of Hagger Allis.  65 8mo. 30 1850

JOHN ALLISON, _Durham_.  57 6mo. 1 1850

ROBERT ALSOP, _Maldon_, _Essex_.  A Minister.  72 7mo. 21 1850

SOPHIA APPLETON, _Stoke Newington_.  Wife of John Appleton.  49 3mo. 28
1850

WILLIAM ASHBY, _Hounslow_.  61 1mo. 7 1850

HANNAH C. BACKHOUSE, _Polam Hill_, _Darlington_.  A Minister.  Widow of
Jonathan Backhouse. {2}  63 5mo. 6 1850

GEORGE BAKER, _Askham Field_, _York_.  An Elder.  71 1mo. 26 1850

He was one who remembered his Creator in the days of his youth, and who
proved in his own experience, that "the fear of the Lord" is not only
"the beginning of wisdom," but that it is also "a fountain of life
preserving from the snares of death."  His earnest desire was to be found
walking acceptably before God; and while a young man, he became greatly
distressed at being overcome by drowsiness in meetings for worship.  On
one occasion, when this had been the case, he retired to a secluded spot,
under a hedge, where, with many tears, he poured forth his prayers for
deliverance from this besetment.  Many years afterwards, when
accompanying a friend on a religious visit to the families of that
meeting, he pointed out the place, and remarked with expressions of
gratitude, that from that time, he did not remember having been overcome
in the same manner.

He was deeply impressed with the words of his Saviour: "All things
whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them,"
and he so carried this precept out into practice, as to become remarkable
for his uprightness of character, and for his consideration for others.

The following circumstances present instructive examples of the kindly
sympathy of this "good Samaritan:"

On the occurrence of a malignant fever, in one of the eastern dales of
Yorkshire, while he resided in that district, he left his own home for
several weeks, to nurse some of his neighbours who had become affected
with the disease, devoting his whole time to the sick, while dread of
infection rendered it difficult for him to obtain assistance in this
office of mercy.

After his removal into the neighbourhood of York, and at a time when many
persons were returning past his premises from a contested Election, and
some of them so much intoxicated as to be incapable of taking care of
themselves; fearing lest any severe accident should befall them while in
this condition, he took several of them from the highway, and lodged them
in one of his outhouses, dismissing them on the following morning with
suitable but kind admonition.  And when numbers of the Irish poor were
driven from their own country by famine, and wandered about in this land
"for lack of bread," he sheltered many of them in his out-buildings and
ministered to their necessities.

George Baker occupied the station of Elder for many years, exercising a
fatherly care in the church, and extending counsel or encouragement, as
he saw occasion, with a simplicity and godly sincerity which gave him
great place amongst his friends.  He was often applied to by his
neighbours for counsel, and as a peace-maker; and in serving them was
remarkable for his patience, self-denial, and success.  In his latter
years, his powers both of body and mind failed greatly, in consequence of
an accident which he met with, while in the pursuit of his occupation as
a farmer; but having "worked while it was day," he was preserved through
a period which might be spoken of as "a night, in which no man could
work;" so that love, that badge of discipleship with Christ, shone
brightly in his last moments, as from under the margin of a dark cloud,
and a solemn feeling of peace with God, through Jesus Christ, pervaded
his dying hours.

ELIZABETH G. BARCLAY, _Walthamstow_.  Daughter of Joseph G. Barclay.  2
8mo. 31 1849

ROBERT BARKER, _Cheadle_, _Manchester_.  62 9mo. 28 1850

THOMAS BAYNES, _Bainbridge_, _Yorkshire_.  70 5mo. 14 1850

THOMAS BEAKBANE, _Liverpool_.  50 4mo. 14 1850

RACHEL BEEBY, _Allonby_.  65 12mo. 15 1849

MARY ANNE BELL, _Belfast_.  Daughter of Thomas and Sarah Bell.  39 2mo.
23 1850

MARY BENINGTON, _Wakefield_.  A Minister.  Wife of George Benington.  55
6mo. 8 1850

ELIZABETH BENNIS, _Clonmel_.  Daughter of the late William Bennis of
Limerick.  16 2mo. 24 1850

PHOEBE BENT, _Sutton-in-Ashfield_, _Nottinghamshire_.  Widow of Joseph
Bent of Stockport.  85 8mo. 15 1850

ELIZABETH BENTLEY, _Ipswich_.  Daughter of Thomas F. and Maria Bentley.
16 11mo. 28 1849

MARY BENWELL, _Sidcot_.  50 1mo. 13 1850

ELIZABETH BEWLEY, _Rockville_, _Dublin_.  Daughter of Thomas and Rebecca
Bewley.  3 1mo. 16 1850

WILLIAM BINNS, _Poole_.  An Elder.  81 4mo. 10 1850

We have often had to observe, that many of our friends, who have lived to
a good old age, and who have been loved and honoured in their respective
stations, as upright pillars in the church, have left but few written
memorials of their course for the instruction of others; whilst
encompassed with infirmities, and looking for the help of the Lord's
Spirit to resist their manifold temptations and easily besetting sins,
they have been enabled to pursue the even tenor of their way, seeking
through divine grace to fulfil the day's work, in the day time, and
hoping to hear at last the call of mercy into one of the many mansions
prepared by Him, who has loved them and died for them.  We love to dwell
upon this class of our departed friends, and without undervaluing those
whose gifts have been more prominent, or whom circumstances have rendered
more conspicuous in our pages, we sincerely desire that these more
hidden, but not less valuable parts of the spiritual building, may ever
be honoured amongst us.  Such an one was our late friend, William Binns.
It was during his apprenticeship that, under the ministry of two women
friends, engaged in a family visit, he was powerfully awakened to the
eternal interests of his soul, and through divine grace, the impression
made, was of so decided a character, that putting his hand to the
Christian plough, he looked not back.

He was greatly concerned for the true welfare of our religious Society,
and in the district in which he resided was eminently useful; caring for
the flock over which the good Shepherd had made him an overseer.

Sterling integrity and uprightness marked his character; his judgment was
clear and sound, and was frequently given in comprehensive and pertinent
language, free from all superfluous expression.

He took a very low estimate of his own attainments, and was humbled under
a sense of his shortcomings; as the shadows of evening were closing
around him, he frequently and feelingly intimated, that there was for
him, but one ground of faith and hope, the free mercy of God in Jesus
Christ his Saviour; such was the subject of his frequent expression to
his friends, and they rejoice in the belief that having in his long
pilgrimage taken up his cross, and sought above all things to follow
Christ, so in the end he was prepared to enter into the eternal joys of
his Lord.

GEORGE BINNS, _Bradford_.  52 8mo. 26 1850

EMMA BINNS, _Sunderland_.  Daughter of Henry Binns.  6 8mo. 22 1850

WILLIAM BLACK, _Cockermouth_.  71 9mo. 20 1849

JOSEPH BLACK, _Lisburn_.  22 5mo. 23 1850

THOMAS BOWRY, _Stepney_.  67 4mo. 27 1850

ROBERT WM. BRIGHTWEN, _Newcastle-on-Tyne_.  Son of Charles Brightwen.  4
3mo. 6 1850

THOMAS BROWN, _Cirencester_.  A Minister.  84 10mo. 13 1849

AMELIA BROWN, _Luton_.  A Minister.  Wife of Richard Marks Brown.  62
12mo. 7 1849

This beloved friend was privileged beyond many in the pious care
exercised in her religious training.  She became early acquainted with
the teachings of divine grace, and from childhood, appears highly to have
valued the holy scriptures.  It was frequently her practice to set apart
some portion of the day for private retirement and meditation, and in
thus seeking to wait upon the Lord for the renewal of her spiritual
strength, she was favoured to know "times of refreshing," and a growth in
"pure and undefiled religion."

She loved the truth in sincerity, and her mind was enriched in the
instructive contemplation of its order, excellence and beauty, and the
benign and salutary influence it has on those who obey its requisitions:
fervently she craved for an increase of faith and strength, that she
might be found among the "called, and chosen, and faithful."  "I felt,"
she remarks on one occasion, "as if I could make any sacrifice called
for; the language of my mind is almost continually, what shall I render
unto the Lord for all his benefits."

Under the apprehension that it would be required of her publicly to bear
testimony to the power and sufficiency of divine grace, her mind was
greatly humbled, and under the pressure of religious exercise, she thus
records her feelings: "Sweetly tendered in my room, and craved for
strength, fully and unreservedly, to yield all to Him, who still in mercy
visits me; if consistent with divine goodness, may my mind be more
illuminated, that I may more clearly distinguish between my own will and
the Lord's requirings."  She was recorded a minister in 1823; and on this
important event she observes: "Feeling some quietude, humble desires are
prevalent that I may indeed be watchful.  Dearest Lord! be pleased to
hear my feeble though sincere aspirations after increasing strength and
wisdom.  Thou knowest that I feel awfully fearful lest I should bring any
shade on thy blessed cause."

Her connection in married life, introduced her into a large family, the
duties of which she cheerfully performed with maternal solicitude, and
she became closely united in bonds of affection to the several branches
of the domestic circle, anxiously promoting their religious and moral
welfare.

In ministry, this dear friend was pertinent and edifying, at times close
and searching; in the exercise of her gift, she travelled at different
intervals in several of the English counties.  In the summer of 1848 her
health began to decline; her demeanour under pain and suffering evinced
her humble dependence upon the Lord, and the language of her soul was,
"not my will, but thine, oh Father, be done!"  Some alleviation was
permitted, and she so far recovered as to be able to assemble with her
friends for divine worship; on these occasions, her communications
evinced her undiminished interest in the cause of truth and
righteousness.  In the last meeting she attended, she bowed the knee in
solemn supplication, craving for herself and those present, the
attainment of perfect purity and holiness, and that this might be the
chief concern of their lives.  A few days after, she was seized with
paralysis, and although consciousness was not entirely effaced, she said
but little; she retained a grateful sense of her many mercies, and a
fervent affection towards her husband and near connections.  Gradually
declining, she passed away as falling into a sweet sleep, and we cannot
doubt exchanged the tribulations of time, for the blissful joys of
eternity.

JOSEPH STANDIN BROWN, _Hitchin_.  60 6mo. 27 1850

SARAH BROWN, _Preston Crowmarsh_, _Oxon_.  Wife of Richard M. Brown,
junior.  36 3mo. 31 1850

GEORGE BRUMELL, _Scotby_.  72 2mo. 23 1850

ASH BUDGE, _Camborne_, _Redruth_.  Wife of John Budge.  53 4mo. 10 1850

In an unexpected hour, and in the enjoyment of usual health, it pleased
our heavenly Father to lay his hand of affliction upon this dear friend,
and after a severe illness of about four weeks, to gather her, as we
reverently believe, into "the rest which remaineth for the people of
God."

It appears, that in early life, "the grace which bringeth salvation,"
wrought effectually in her heart, so that her surviving relatives cannot
recall the time when the fear of God did not influence her conduct; her
pious mother, who for many years filled the station of Elder in our
Society; was deeply interested in the religious welfare of her children,
and earnestly sought, in the morning of their day, to imbue their minds
with the principles and precepts of the gospel of Christ, and her labours
of love in reference to this beloved daughter were graciously owned.  From
her childhood, she was more than commonly dutiful and affectionate to her
parents, rarely giving them any cause for uneasiness; an aged grandmother
also, who resided for many years with them, she waited on with such
tender care, as to call forth the expression of her belief, that a
blessing would rest on her on that account.

Great meekness, tenderness, and humility clothed her mind, not only
throughout the season of her affliction, but for a long course of
previous years, binding her in very tender bonds to her husband and
children, as well as to her other endeared relatives and friends.

It appears, from the first day on which her illness assumed a more
serious character, that an impression pervaded her mind, that it would be
unto death, and accompanying this impression, a deep and earnest desire
for entire resignation to the divine will; and this desire was graciously
answered; for during the period of her illness, her resignation, and
consequent tranquillity, were indeed remarkable; attended by a precious
measure of "the peace of God which passeth all understanding."  So fully
was this the case, and so little of the appearance of death accompanied
her illness, that a lively hope of her restoration to health, was, even
to the last day of her life, earnestly cherished by those around her, and
in addition to this, such was the nature of her disease, that great
stillness and uninterrupted rest were considered necessary; thus
circumstanced, whilst both her mind, and their minds, were abundantly
satisfied with the precious evidence of the love of God in Christ Jesus,
shed abroad in her heart, they were not anxious for much expression, or
careful to commit to writing what, from season to season, fell from her
lips; feeling that her mind "wore thanksgiving to her Maker."

She evinced, throughout her married life, a deep interest in the well-
being of her tenderly beloved children, making it her frequent practice
to spend some portion of her time in retirement with them, in reading the
holy scriptures and in prayer; and this interest increasingly appeared as
she lay on the bed of affliction, having them daily in her chamber, and
again and again, in tender affection, impressing on their minds the
importance of divine and eternal things, urging them to walk in the way
of God's commandments, and to regard his favour and approbation as the
one thing, beyond all other things, necessary both to their present peace
and everlasting salvation: similar counsel was also extended to the other
members of her household and family, to the friends who kindly visited
her, to her medical attendants, and to her neighbours.  More might be
said in reference to the Christian graces which marked the character of
this beloved friend, but the object is not to magnify the creature, but
to set forth the excellency and sufficiency of the "grace which is from
God our Father, and the Lord Jesus Christ," and by the effectual
operation of which, she was what she was.  The last words she addressed
to her tenderly beloved husband were: "All is well:" and again, shortly
before the final close: "My foundation is on the Rock;" that Rock, we
undoubtingly believe, which "no tempest overthrows."

REBECCA CANDLER, _East Hill_, _Colchester_.  55 5mo. 8 1850

SARAH CARSON, _Liverpool_.  Wife of William Carson.  59 2mo. 21 1850

HANNAH CARTER, _Preston_.  Daughter of Thomas and Mary Carter.  4 7mo. 12
1850

HANNAH CASSON, _Hull_.  Daughter of Benjamin Casson.  14 8mo. 22 1850

HANNAH CATLIN, _London_.  Died at York.  62 3mo. 26 1850

WILLIAM CHANTLER, _Lewes_.  78 2mo. 15 1850

DANIEL CHAPMAN, _Reeth_.  24 12mo. 29 1849

WILLIAM CHESELDEN, _Ipswich_.  85 12mo. 17 1849

JOHN CHRISTMAS, _Colne near Earith_.  87 7mo. 7 1850

MARY CHRISTY, _Woodbank_, _Lurgan_.  Daughter of the late John Christy,
of Stramore.  33 1mo. 23 1850

THOMAS CLARK, _Bridgewater_.  A Minister.  91 6mo. 16 1850

SAMUEL CLARK, _Lower Grange_, _Ireland_.  68 12mo. 28 1849

JOSEPH CLARK, _Southampton_.  An Elder.  85 5mo. 25 1850

SUSAN CLEMES, _Ackworth_.  Daughter of Samuel and Jane Clemes.  1 4mo. 1
1850

JOHN BARCLAY CLIBBORN, _Duner Mills_, _Clonmel_.  80 3mo. 22 1850

JOSHUA COLEBY, _Alton_.  An Elder.  73 3mo. 25 1850

MARY COOKE, _Liverpool_.  Widow of John Cooke.  68 12mo. 9 1849

MARY COOPER, _Brighouse_.  A Minister.  Widow of Thomas Cooper.  79 4mo.
20 1850

MARTHA COOPER, _Lockwood_, _Huddersfield_.  Widow of John Cooper, of
Brighouse.  65 9mo. 14 1849

JOSEPH COVENTRY, _Stoke Newington_.  70 2mo. 17 1850

ELIZABETH CRAPP, _Truro_.  64 1mo. 22 1850

MARY CRAWE, _Norwich_.  Widow of Spicer Crawe.  77 3mo. 8 1850

TABITHA CROSLAND, _Bradford_.  Wife of Robert Crosland.  45 10mo. 29 1849

RACHEL CURCHIN, _Ipswich_.  Died at York.  50 1mo. 20 1850

WILLIAM CURTIS, _Alton_.  79 10mo. 13 1849

FRANCIS DARBY, _Sunniside_, _Coalbrookdale_.  67 3mo. 20 1850

SAMUEL DAVIS, _Aldershaw_, _Garsdale_, _Yorkshire_.  81 5mo. 30 1850

EDWIN DAWES, _Stoke Newington_.  38 10mo. 27 1849

ANNA MARIA DAY, _Saffron Walden_.  68 11mo. 8 1849

GULIELMA DEANE, _Reigate_.  Daughter of James and Sarah Deane.  18 11mo.
4 1849

SARAH (_Sally_) DEAVES, _Eglantine_, _Cork_.  Daughter of Reuben and
Sarah Deaves.  22 10mo. 3 1849

The sudden death, by Cholera, of this dear young friend, caused at the
time a very lively emotion among a wide circle of friends.  She was the
only and much beloved child of her bereaved parents;--naturally of a most
amiable disposition, and of that lively temperament which gives a
peculiar zest to life and all its passing enjoyments, she diffused around
her somewhat of the buoyancy and sunshine which seemed ever to attend her
own steps.  Thus attractive and admired, and drinking largely of the cup
of present pleasures, the thoughts of the future appear to have had but
little place in her mind.  In a state of excellent health, she had gone
to Mountmelick to pass a few weeks with some near relatives, when she was
seized with the disorder which, in a few hours, closed her life.  Those
hours were passed in much bodily suffering, but sorer still were the
conflicts of her mind.  The scales which had prevented her from seeing
the real worth of life and the awful realities of the future, at once
fell from her eyes, and she saw or rather felt with indescribable
clearness, that the great truths which appertain to the welfare of the
soul belong alike to the young and the healthy, to the sick and the
dying.  She saw that she had been living to herself and not to God, and
this, whatever particulars she might lament, was the heavy burden of her
awakened spirit.  In the depths of contrition, and in the earnestness of
faith, she was enabled to pray to her heavenly Father, and Saviour, to
draw near and to have mercy upon her.

Thus passed some hours never to be forgotten.  The rapid progress of her
disease hardly allowed time for much further mental exercise or
expression.  She sank into a state of quietude of body and of mind.  And
when all was over, the sorrowing parents were condoled in the hope, that
the prayers of their beloved child had been heard, through the mercy of
Him who never turned away his ear from the truly repentant suppliant.

What lessons does this brief narrative offer to survivors.  Awfully does
it speak to the children of pleasure, of the inestimable value of the
soul--of the importance of time--of the folly of living in forgetfulness
of God, and unmindful of their high destiny as immortal beings.  What a
light does it throw on the responsibility of parents; and whilst
affording no encouragement to delay in the hope of a death-bed
repentance, what a view does it open of the infinite mercy of our
heavenly Father in Christ Jesus.

MARTHA DELL, _Birmingham_.  Widow of Joseph H. Dell, of Earls Colne.  78
4mo. 30 1850

SAMUEL DICKINSON, _Denbydale_, _Highflatts_, _Yorkshire_.  79 2mo. 19
1850

EDWARD DOUBLEDAY, _Harrington Square_, _Westminster_.  38 11mo. 14 1849

ISABELLA DOWBIGGIN, _Preston_.  Widow.  75 7mo. 26 1850

JOSEPH DOYLE, _Calledon_, _Kilconnor_.  60 7mo. 6 1850

THOMAS DUNBABBIN, _Chorlton-on-Medlock_.  68 3mo. 29 1850

CHARLOTTE EDMUNDSON, _Kingstown_, _Dublin_.  Widow of Joshua Edmundson.
76 10mo. 18 1849

JANE EUSTACE, _Hampstead_, _Dublin_.  56 12mo. 10 1849

ROBERT FARR, _Birmingham_.  Died at Worcester.  36 3mo. 10 1850

ANNE FAYLE, _Enniscorthy_.  Widow of Josiah Fayle.  54 1mo. 18 1850

ELEANOR FELL, _Uxbridge_.  Wife of John Fell.  41 10mo. 15 1849

SUSANNAH FERN, _Rochdale_.  Widow of Joseph Fern.  76 7mo. 24 1850

SUSANNA FINCH, _Reading_.  78 12mo. 6 1849

SUSANNAH FINCHER, _Evesham_.  Widow of John Fincher.  78 12mo. 16 1849

SARAH MARIA FISHER, _Newport_, _Tipperary_.  Daughter of Benjamin C. and
Mary Fisher.  18 4mo. 16 1850

SARAH FOWLER, _Higher Broughton_, _Manchester_.  Widow of William Fowler.
87 6mo. 28 1850

CATHERINE FOX, _Rushmere_, _Ipswich_.  An Elder.  Wife of Thomas Fox.  62
10mo. 6 1849

ELIZABETH FREELOVE, _London_.  Wife of James Freelove.  40 12mo. 17 1849

LUCY FREETH, _Birmingham_.  53 1mo. 19 1850

ANN FULLER, _Yarmouth_.  Widow of John Fuller.  77 5mo. 20 1850

ANNE GALE, _Racketstown_, _Ballynakill_, _Ireland_.  Widow.  73 6mo. 10
1850

JOHN GAUNTLEY, _Bakewell_.  72 7mo. 28 1850

MARY COOKE GELDART, _Norwich_.  Wife of Joseph Geldart.  55 5mo. 24 1850

ROBERT GOSWELL GILES, _Oldford_, _Middlesex_.  An Elder.  80 8mo. 23 1849

JOSEPH GILLETT, _Banbury_.  Son of Joseph A. and Martha Gillett.  21 3mo.
2 1850

THOMAS GOODYEAR, _Adderbury_.  75 8mo. 14 1850

BENJAMIN GOOUCH, _Greenville_, _county Kilkenny_.  84 5mo. 2 1850

ISABELLA GRACE, _Bristol_.  Daughter of Josiah and Mary Grace.  9 9mo. 28
1850

ELIZABETH GREEN, _Trummery_, _Ballinderry_.  Widow of Thomas Green.  96
4mo. 8 1850

ELLEN GREEN, _Gildersome_, _Yorkshire_.  Widow of David Green.  70 4mo.
25 1850

MARY GREENWOOD, _Stones_, _Todmorden_.  72 11mo. 12 1849

JAMES GREENWOOD, _Plaistow_.  79 5mo. 9 1850

THOMAS GRIMES, _Chelsea_.  52 5mo. 20 1850

ABRAHAM GRUBB, _Merlin_, _Clonmel_.  73 11mo. 7 1849

JOHN GULSON, _Leicester_.  89 5mo. 26 1850

THOMAS HAGGER, _Hoddesdon_.  85 7mo. 11 1850

RACHEL HALL, _Greysouthen_, _Cumberland_.  69 1mo. 30 1850

MARY HARKER, _Bristol_.  Widow of John Harker.  81 11mo. 5 1849

ADAM HARKER, _Darlington_.  76 4mo. 3 1850

MARGARET HARKER, _Cowgill, Dent_, _Yorkshire_.  Wife of Thomas Harker.  63
2mo. 23 1850

MARY HARRIS, _Peckham Rye_.  Wife of John Harris.  61 10mo. 7 1849

JOHN HARRISON, _Poole_, _Dorset_.  Son of Samuel and Sarah Harrison.  3
9mo. 29 1849

ELIZABETH HARRISON, _Southgate_, _Middlesex_.  60 3mo. 26 1850

MARY HARTAS, _Sinnington Grange_, _near Kirby_, _Yorkshire_.  A Minister.
Widow of Thomas Hartas.  74 3mo. 2 1850

JOHN HARTAS, _Westerdale_, _Castleton_, _Yorkshire_.  49 9mo. 26 1850

WILLIAM HARTLEY, _Dunfermline_, _near Edinburgh_.  43 4mo. 23 1850

JOHN HASLEM, _Rosenalis_, _Mountmelick_.  81 1mo. 5 1850

MARY HAWKSWORTH, _Thorne_.  Wife of John Hawksworth.  64 1mo. 5 1850

ELLEN HAWORTH, _Todmorden_.  Wife of William Haworth.  57 12mo. 10 1849

BENJAMIN HAYLLAR, _Dorking_.  83 10mo. 6 1849

HANNAH HAYTON, _Penrith_.  70 3mo. 24 1850

MARY ANN HEAD, _Ipswich_.  33 4mo. 18 1850

ANN HERBERT, _Tottenham_.  72 9mo. 24 1849

ISAAC HEWITSON, _Penrith_.  82 8mo. 28 1850

ELIZABETH HILL, _Hillsborough_, _Ireland_.  87 9mo. 18 1849

RICHARD IVEY HOCKING, _Truro_.  49 10mo. 5 1849

MARY HODGKIN, _Shipston-on-Stour_.  78 12mo. 8 1849

JAMES HOGG, _Portadown Grange_, _Ireland_.  51 1mo. 2 1850

ANN HOLMES, _Huddersfield_.  31 5mo. 21 1850

SARAH HOOWE, _Edenderry_.  67 8mo. 30 1850

MARTHA HORNE, _Tottenham_.  An Elder.  85  9mo. 2 1850

ELIZABETH HORSFALL, _Leeds_.  50 1mo. 17 1850

RICHARD HORSNAILL, _Dover_.  48 7mo. 23 1850

In endeavouring to pursue faithfully the path of manifested duty, we
believe it was peculiarly the aim of this dear friend, "to do justly, to
love mercy, and to walk humbly with his God."  He was of a very diffident
disposition, and cautious in giving expression to his religious feelings,
lest he should thereby make a profession beyond what he thought his
attainments warranted.

For many years he laboured under a disease, which was attended with much
suffering; but this proved a means of weaning him from the world and its
pursuits, and of inducing him more earnestly to "seek first the kingdom
of God and his righteousness," with the unshaken belief that all things
necessary would be added.

He manifested a deep interest in the prosperity of our religious Society,
and according to his measure, especially in the latter part of his life,
willingly devoted himself to its service.  He likewise took great delight
in promoting the best interests of the juvenile portion of the population
in the neighbourhood in which he resided; and the counsel he gave to
those of this class, often gained their good will and respectful
attention.  He also exhibited a very humane disposition toward the animal
creation, and rarely allowed a case of ill-treatment or oppression to
pass without attempting to redress the wrongs inflicted.  For some years,
he took great interest in supplying the crews of foreign vessels,
resorting to the port of Dover, with copies of the holy Scriptures and
religious tracts; and from his kind and unassuming manners, his efforts
were almost universally well received.

His last illness, of four months' duration, was attended with extreme
bodily suffering; but the nature of his complaint being very obscure, he
entertained a hope that he might be restored to his former state of
health, and expressed some anxiety for length of days, in order that he
might be more useful to his fellow-creatures.  But as his strength
declined, this desire gave way to quiet submission to the will of his
God; and it was evident, that his soul was anchored upon that Rock, which
alone can support in the hour of trial.

Soon after he was taken ill, he remarked in allusion to his business,
that he had thought it right in one instance, to decline the execution of
an order, where more display of taste was required, than he could feel
satisfied with; and this sacrifice, with some others of a similar kind,
had afforded him peace: adding, "I do want to come clean out of Babylon."
He said, the language had been much upon his mind: "Purge me with hyssop,
and I shall be clean; wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow:" and also
the words of our Saviour,--"If I wash thee not, thou hast no part with
me."

Being in great pain, he said,--"You must pray for me, that my patience
may hold out; I have indeed need of your prayers, for my sufferings are
very great; but, bye and bye, perhaps I may be able to say, I have not
had one pang too many."  At another time, he supplicated thus: "Merciful
Father, be pleased to grant me a little ease, O! Thou that makest the
storm a calm, and sayest to the waves, Peace be still."  Soon after which
he lay quiet; and whilst tears of gratitude flowed down his cheeks, he
said, "Do not disturb me; all is stillness,--what a mercy!"

On one occasion, when feeling exceedingly depressed, he remarked, that
the vessels he had visited, and the poor sailors were brought mentally to
view, one after another, with much sweetness, and whilst he took no merit
to himself, he desired to encourage others to do what they could for the
good of the poor.  At another time, after giving instructions to one of
his sisters, to make some selection of tracts for the sailors on board a
German vessel, then lying in the harbour, he observed: "Oh, what a field
of labour there is! how I do wish that some one would take this up, for I
feel as though I should be able to do very little more in it."

His mind, during his illness, seemed filled with love and gratitude.  He
remarked, "I never felt so much love before, both to my family and
friends; I do believe this illness will bind us more closely together
than ever."  And again: "Oh, how kind you are to wait upon me so; the
Lord will reward you!"  At another time, he said, "I had not thought to
have been taken at this time of my life, but I am in such a critical
state, that life hangs on a thread;--the pains of the body are what I
seem most to dread."

On inquiring one day, where that line was to be found, "At ease in his
possessions," he remarked, "I do not think I have been at ease in mine, I
have endeavoured to live loose to them."  A hope being expressed that his
illness would be sanctified to him, he quickly replied, "Yes, and not to
me only, but to all of you."  He gave some directions, in the event of
his death, with much composure, observing: "It seems an awful thing for
me to say thus much, but a great favour to be so free from anxiety."  In
the night he was heard to say: "No merit of mine, it is all of mercy,
free unmerited mercy!"  On a young man in his employment coming to assist
him, previous to going to his own place of worship, when about to leave
the room, he thus addressed him: "Mind and make a good use of the time,
and do not be afraid of looking into thy own heart, but suffer the
witness to come in and speak, whether it be in the language of
encouragement or reproof.  Many persons go to their places of worship,
where much of the time is spent in singing and in music, which please the
outward ear, but this is not religion!  It is when we are brought to see
ourselves as we really are, sinners in the sight of a holy God, that we
are led to seek a Saviour, and to cry, in sincerity, 'A Saviour, or I
die!  A Redeemer, or I perish for ever!'"

On its being remarked to him, that it was consolingly believed, he was
one of those who had endeavoured to occupy with his talent, which, if
only one, it was hoped, had gained an increase, he replied,--"That will
only be known at the great day of account, when weighed in the balance."

On Seventh-day evening preceding his decease, he remarked to a beloved
relative, that it seemed the safest for him to say but little in regard
to his own attainments, adding,--"My desire is, for a continuance of kind
preservation."  And on the day before his death, he remarked with
gratitude, that his intellects had been preserved clear throughout his
illness.  During the night, he was much engaged in prayer; his bodily
powers were fast sinking, but his mind appeared preserved in peaceful
serenity.  In the morning, he expressed a desire that his sister would
remain by him, affectionately inquired for his father, and soon after, we
reverently believe, exchanged a state of suffering for one of
never-ending rest and joy, in the everlasting kingdom of our Lord and
Saviour Jesus Christ.

ALBERT GEORGE HORSNAILL, _Rochester_.  Son of George and Maria Horsnaill.
4 5mo. 22 1850

JAMES HOTHAM, _Leeds_.  44 2mo. 7 1850

JOHN HULL, _Ramsgate_.  Died at Cheltenham.  55 6mo. 3 1850

MARY HUNT, _Almondsbury_.  A Minister.  Widow of James Hunt.  79 12mo. 7
1849

DAVID HURST, _West Houghton_, _Lancashire_.  35 2mo. 19 1850

HANNAH IRWIN, _Deptford_.  Wife of Thomas Irwin.  55 2mo. 9 1850

JOHN CLARK ISAAC, _Studminster_, _Newton_, _Marnhull_.  67 2mo. 12 1850

ELIZABETH PIM JACOB, _Newlands_, _Dublin_.  Daughter of the late Joseph
Jacob.  17 10mo. 30 1849

ELIZABETH JACOBS, _Folkstone_.  Widow of Jacob Jacobs.  76 6mo. 9 1850

CAROLINE JACOBS, _Maidstone_.  Daughter of Jacob and Lydia Jacobs.  6
8mo. 15 1850

MARY ANN JEFFERIES, _Melksham_.  Daughter of Thomas and Martha Jefferies.
38 12mo. 14 1849

EMMA JEFFREY, _Folkstone_.  Daughter of the late John and Eliza Jeffrey.
11 10mo. 6 1849

SARAH JEPHCOTT, _Coventry_.  Wife of Enoch Jephcott.  72 3mo. 26 1850

SAMUEL JONES, _Hoxton_.  39 5mo. 10 1850

SARAH JONES, _Hereford_.  Daughter of Joseph Jones.  22 7mo. 17 1850

JUDITH KING, _Castle Donington_.  86 8mo. 11 1850

JOHN LESLIE, _Wells_, _Norfolk_.  66 10mo. 14 1849

CHARLES LIDBETTER, _Croydon_.  Son of Martin and Elizabeth Lidbetter.  2
2mo. 9 1850

JOHN LITTLE, _Alston_.  78 3mo. 27 1850

RICHARD LYNES, _Chelsea_.  85 1mo. 3 1850

WILLIAM LYTHALL, _Baddesley_, _Warwickshire_.  68 3mo. 13 1850

ANN MALCOMSON, _Milton_, _Ireland_.  Widow of Thomas Malcomson.  79 7mo.
2 1850

WILLIAM MALLY, _Preston_.  77 7mo. 23 1850

JOSEPH MARRIAGE, _Chelmsford_.  76 12mo. 8 1849

WILLIAM MARSH, _Ashton_, _Lancashire_.  50 10mo. 1 1849

REBECCA MARSH, _Dorking_.  Wife of William Marsh.  49 10mo. 27 1849

ALFRED MARSH, _Luton_.  Son of Robert and Maria Marsh.  4 8mo. 14 1850

DAVID MARSHALL, _Sheffield_.  61 12mo. 9 1849

JANE MASON, _Leeds_.  Wife of George Mason.  45 10mo. 9 1849

MARY MILES, _Peckham_.  Wife of Edward Miles.  36 4mo. 1 1850

SUSANNA MOORE, _Waterford_.  80 8mo. 12 1850

PRISCILLA NASH, _London_.  Daughter of William and Rebecca Nash.  17 3mo.
13 1850

EDWARD PHILIP NASH, _Holt_, _Norfolk_.  Son of Thomas W. and Sarah Nash.
2 4mo. 1 1850

HANNAH NEALE, _Mountmelick_.  Daughter of William Neale.  33 3mo. 29 1850

Hannah Neale had an extensive circle of acquaintance, by whom she was
much beloved and esteemed, as being one of a very innocent and blameless
life.  Some of the circumstances relating to her, are of a very affecting
and interesting character, and speak loudly the uncertainty of all
earthly prospects.  In the summer of last year, she entered into an
engagement of marriage with a friend residing in England.  Having
considered the subject with earnest and sincere desires to act in
accordance with best wisdom, she looked forward to the completion of the
prospect with a pleasing and hopeful confidence, yet even at an early
period of the engagement, there was something that seemed to whisper to
her, the uncertainty of its completion.

At this time she appeared in her usual health and full of spirits; but
whilst on a visit to her aunt, at Kingstown, her health became affected,
and from this time, symptoms exhibited themselves, which baffled all
medical skill.  She was still, however, hopeful respecting her own
recovery, and very often expressed in her correspondence, how much she
was pained by the thought of being the cause of so much anxiety to
others,--that her own sufferings were trifling, and the comforts
surrounding her so numerous, she felt that she had every thing to be
thankful for.  It was, however, evident to those around her, that there
was little ground for hope, and a dear friend intimated to her, that her
medical advisers considered her end might possibly be very near.  This
intelligence greatly startled her, but she afterward expressed, how
thankful she felt that she had been honestly apprized of her danger.

The solemn impression then made on her mind, never left her, and her
constant desire was, that she might, through divine mercy, be made meet
for the kingdom of heaven, repeating emphatically, "I have much to do."

She often expressed her great sorrow, that she had not yielded to the
serious impressions with which she had been favoured, saving, "They were
soon scattered;" and regretted much that she had not lived a more devoted
life.  She felt herself to be a great sinner, needing a Saviour's
gracious pardon; and for a long time feared she never should obtain that
forgiveness, she so earnestly longed for.  But though her faith was
feeble, she endeavoured to lay hold of encouragement from the mercy
extended to the Prodigal Son, and to the Thief upon the cross, hoping
that the same mercy might be extended to herself; but for a long time,
her poor tossed and tried mind "could find nothing to lean upon."  She
remarked, she could not feel that she had sinned against her
fellow-creatures, but that she could adopt the words of the Psalmist:
"Against Thee, Thee only, have I sinned," saying, "I feel that I have
nothing to build upon, and that I want every thing; I am not prepared to
die, I want all my sins to be forgiven; I hope I shall not be taken till
the work be fully accomplished."  The whole of the 51st Psalm, she said,
seemed to suit her case, and with solemnity repeated, "'Create in me a
clean heart, oh God! and renew a right spirit within me.'  If I am saved,
it will indeed be at the eleventh hour, I have been such a sinner."

Thus did the Spirit of Truth search all things, and bring this beloved
friend sensibly to feel, as she weightily expressed, "that at such a
solemn hour, it will not do to build upon having led a spotless and
innocent life, something more is then wanted to lean upon."  She often
observed, how well it was for those who had given up their hearts to
serve their Saviour in the time of health,--that had she done so, she
should not now, in the hour of trial, have had to feel such deep sorrow
of heart,--that she could only hope for mercy and forgiveness, adding,
"If I perish, let it be at Thy footstool."

As her bodily weakness increased, she remarked, "I often feel unable to
read, or even to think; but I can _cling_; this is about as much as I am
able to do."

Though this beloved friend took these low views of her own state, her
company was deeply instructive and edifying to those around her, and a
heavenly sweetness marked her deportment.  Her heart was often filled
with gratitude to her heavenly Father for the extension of his love and
mercy, and she remarked many times, "I have indeed been mercifully dealt
with."

The dear sufferer rapidly declined; yet her mind continued bright, and
she was preserved in a patient, waiting state, fully conscious of the
approach of death, she queried how long it was thought likely she might
live? praying,--"Oh! dear Saviour, may it please thee not to take me till
the work be fully accomplished."  She often said, "It is a solemn thing
to die;" and the evening preceding her death, when her friends were
watching around her, she remarked that, believing her end was near, "It
felt very, very solemn to her."  At this deeply interesting season, He
who is indeed Love, condescended in great mercy to draw near, so that she
seemed lifted above terrestrial things, and permitted a foretaste of
those joys, of which we consolingly believe, she now fully participates.
Under this precious influence, her countenance beamed with sweetness, and
she emphatically repeated many times,--"Divine compassion! mighty love!"
and raising her hand, exclaimed, "Oh such love!--such love!--and to me
such a sinner; is it not marvellous?" adding, "a weary burdened soul, oh
Lord, am I, but the blood of Jesus can wash the guilty sinner
clean.--Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will
fear no evil.--Oh how wonderful! hard things have been made easy, and
bitter things sweet."

She remarked that, at such a solemn hour, the world had no relish, "oh
no!" she said, "it is not worth a thought:

   'The world recedes, it disappears,
   Heaven opens on my eyes, my ears.'"

To a young friend whom she tenderly loved, she said, "Oh if we should all
meet in heaven, will it not be delightful? oh! dear ---, we must all come
to this, and nothing will do for any of us but the blood of the Lamb."

She continued for some time addressing those around her in this strain;
and to the question of her brother, whether she was happy? she replied,
"Yes, indeed, I am happy."  Thus her dying lips seemed to testify, that
she was mercifully brought to see the salvation of God, and that he is
able to save to the uttermost all those who come unto him, through faith
in Christ Jesus our Lord.

HENRY NEILD, _Over Whitley_, _Cheshire_.  An Elder.  59 10mo. 4 1849

In the removal of this beloved friend, we have another instance of the
uncertainty of time, and another call to prepare for the life to come.
Henry Neild left home on the 12th of 9th month, 1849, for the purpose of
attending his Monthly and Quarterly Meetings, at Nantwich; but he was
taken ill in the former meeting, and though relieved by medical aid, it
failed to remove disease, which continued daily to waste his frame, and
in little more than three weeks terminated his earthly pilgrimage; and we
thankfully believe, through redeeming mercy, translated the immortal
spirit to "an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not
away."

He had long been a very useful and willing helper in the small Quarterly
Meeting, of which he was a member; and a true sympathizer with the
afflicted, taking heed to the apostolic injunction, "Bear ye one anothers
burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ."  Deep and fervent were his
desires for the welfare of our Society, for the maintenance of all our
religious testimonies, and that its members might be redeemed from the
influence and spirit of the world.

In the early part of his illness, he remarked that "it was surprising to
himself, how entirely he could leave all earthly things; he had desired
to leave all to Him who doeth all things well; and to commit himself into
the hands of his dear Saviour."

At another time, he said, "I am very gently and mercifully dealt with, I
feel that I am a poor unfaithful creature, but I consider it a favour to
be made sensible of this, for it is only of divine mercy that we can
rightly feel our need."  Thus kept in humble reliance upon the mercy of
God, in Christ Jesus his Saviour, he was permitted to repose on that
"Anchor to the soul which is sure and steadfast," and to cast all his
care upon our compassionate and ever present Redeemer.

He died at Nantwich, at the house of Croudson Tunstall, whose own death
took place little more than a month afterwards.

WILLIAM NEWSOM, _Limerick_.  62 6mo. 18 1850

In affixing a few lines to this name, the desire is simply to arrest the
attention of any reader, who may be too closely engaged in temporal
things; giving their strength to that which cannot profit, and not
sufficiently pondering the passing nature of all terrestrial things.

William Newsom had been extensively engaged in commerce through great
part of his life, and there was reason to fear he was unduly absorbed by
its cares and allurements: for the last year or more, he appeared to be
becoming more sensible that disappointment was stamped upon his pursuits;
his bodily health heretofore unbroken, began also to decline, and it was
comfortingly believed by his friends, that this and other revolving
circumstances, were tending to turn the energies of his mind from
perishable, to imperishable objects.  A few months before his decease, it
became still more evident, that the hand of his heavenly Father was laid
upon him in mercy; and on one occasion, he remarked, "that he saw nothing
in the world worth living for, it abounded in trouble and disappointment,
all outward things were stained in his eyes, there was nothing but
religion that could be of any avail for any of us; and it mattered not
when we were taken--young, old, or middle aged--if we were but ready,
that was the great point!"  His experience, however, during the last few
days of his life shewed, that although the ground might have been
prepared, the work was by no means effected; deep and sore conflict was
then his portion, and oh! with what fervency did he call upon his
Saviour, beseeching him in his mercy to be pleased to look down upon his
poor unworthy creature, for he alone could help in that awful hour.  Once
he exclaimed, "what could all the world do for me now?"  His wife, under
great exercise of spirit, replied, "Nothing! the best, when laid upon
such a bed as thou art, have nothing to look to or depend upon, but the
mercy of the Saviour;" the poor sufferer earnestly pleaded that that
mercy might be extended to him, remarking, "He has all power in heaven
and in earth."  He then fervently prayed that the Lord would save his
never dying soul.  It is believed, that whilst his many sins of omission
and commission were brought vividly before his view, by the unflattering
witness, he was made very fully sensible that the great work of salvation
rests between the soul of man and his Creator, and that "no man can
redeem his brother, or give to God a ransom for him."  Through the night,
he was mostly engaged in prayer, with uplifted hands invoking for mercy
and forgiveness.

Some time before his death, the great conflict of mind he had been under,
appeared to subside, and to be succeeded by a sweet calm, and he
intimated to his wife, that he felt comfortable and satisfied.  Till
within half an hour of the close, prayer continued flowing from his lips,
the last audible sounds being an appeal to the Lord; and but a few
minutes before he ceased to breathe, a conscious look at his dear wife,
seemed to say, "all is peace;" and it was granted to her exercised spirit
to believe, that the unshackled soul when released, was received into a
mansion of rest, through the mercy and merits of his Lord and Saviour.  In
reference to that impressive hour this dear relative writes,--"Oh! how
many times that solemn night, did I long that all the world could feel
the great necessity, whilst in health and strength, so to live, as to be
prepared for that awful hour, which sooner or later must come upon us
all; it is a very dangerous thing to put off the work of the soul's
salvation to a deathbed, or to depend upon mercy being extended as at
the eleventh hour, for it may not then be found."  Let us then be
concerned to work whilst it is called to-day, and be ready to meet the
awful summons,--"Steward give up thy stewardship, for thou mayest be no
longer steward."

SUSANNAH NICKALLS, _Ashford_, _Folkstone_.  Wife of Thomas Nickalls.  65
6mo. 1 1850

MARY NICHOLSON, _Liverpool_.  78 12mo. 14 1849

MARY OSTLE, _Newtown_, _Beckfoot_, _Cumberland_.  Widow of Thomas Ostle.
83 12mo. 18 1849

HANNAH PALMER, _Radway_.  Widow of William Palmer.  71 10mo. 17 1849

JOHN PERCY, _Ballinagore_, _Ireland_.  Son of John and Anna Perry.  3
2mo. 1 1850

RICHARD PATCHING, _Brighton_.  70 2mo. 15 1850

RACHEL PATTINSON, _Felling, near Newcastle-on-Tyne_.  Widow of Thomas
Pattinson.  59 1mo. 5 1850

SOPHIA GULIELMA PAYNE, _Lambeth Walk_, _Surrey_.  Daughter of James and
Ann Payne.  1 6mo. 7 1850

ELIZABETH PEARSON, _Preston_.  Daughter of Daniel and Ann Pearson.  1
7mo. 6 1850

JOHN PEGLER, _Mangersbury_, _near Stow_, _Warwickshire_.  74 7mo. 6 1850

ISABELLA PEILE, _Carlisle_.  Wife of Thomas Peile.  45 8mo. 1 1850

FRANCIS EDWARD PENNEY, _Dorking_.  Died at Brighton.  Son of the late
Richard Penney.  22 7mo. 27 1850

ELIZABETH HALL PICKARD, _Bushcliffe House_, _Wakefield_.  Wife of David
Pickard.  35 10mo. 30 1849

HARTAS PICKARD, _Bushcliffe House_, _Wakefield_.  Son of David and
Elizabeth H. Pickard.  1 11mo. 26 1849

ELIZABETH PIERSON, _Dublin_.  Daughter of Joseph Pierson.  25 2mo. 3 1850

SARAH LYDIA N. PIKE, _Derryvale_.  6 7mo. 27 1850

HANNAH LECKY PIKE, _Derryvale_.  Children of the late James Nicholson and
Sarah Pike.  3 9mo. 7 1850

ELIZABETH PIM, _Richmond Hill_, _Dublin_.  An Elder.  Widow of Jonathan
Pim.  63 2mo. 22 1850

EMILY PIM, _Mountmelick_.  4 4mo. 5 1850

FREDERICK PIM, _Mountmelick_.  Children of Samuel and Susanna Pim.  1
7mo. 31 1850

ELIZABETH PLUMLEY, _Tottenham_.  72 1mo. 10 1850

SARAH PRESTON, _Earith_, _Hunts_.  An Elder.  Widow of Samuel Preston.  79
4mo. 22 1850

JOHN PRICHARD, _Leominster_.  86 5mo. 24 1850

ESTHER PRIDEAUX, _Plymouth_.  Widow of Philip C. Prideaux.  71 1mo. 8
1850

_Jane Prideaux_, _Kingsbridge_.

The decease of this friend is recorded in the Annual Monitor of last
year.  We have since been furnished with the following notice of her.

Our beloved friend, Jane Prideaux, died the 26th of the Second month,
1849, aged 87 years: for many years before her decease, she filled very
acceptably the station of Elder, and therein approved herself a lowly
follower of her Lord and Master.  Very precious to her surviving friends,
is the remembrance of her innocent, circumspect walk, holding out as it
does in an impressive manner, the invitation, "Follow me as I have
followed Christ."  During the latter years of her lengthened life, the
fruits of her faith became increasingly prominent, and she was endeared
to her friends and neighbours around her in no common degree.  But it was
during the last two months of her life, when under great bodily
suffering, that her tongue was more fully set at liberty to declare the
lovingkindness of the Lord, who in this season of trial was graciously
pleased to lift up the light of his countenance upon her, and to grant a
full evidence of acceptance with himself, enabling her to rejoice in the
assurance that when her earthly house of this tabernacle should be
dissolved, there would be granted to her "a building of God, a house not
made with hands, eternal in the heavens."

Her patient, cheerful endurance of bodily pain was striking and
instructive; and in some seasons of closest conflict, her faith was
strong, and her acknowledgment of the supporting power of God, full and
fervent.  She often said, the Lord was able to save and to deliver to the
uttermost, and would deliver _her_, when patience had had its perfect
work.  Very impressive were her short petitions to the Father of mercies,
for his support and deliverance, accompanied as they constantly were with
the addition, "if consistent with thy will."  She remarked, "I am in the
hands of an unerring Creator, He _cannot_ err.  We must not look to
ourselves, but to our Saviour, who loved us and gave himself for us--even
for _me_, the most unworthy of his creatures.  He healeth all my
diseases, and I have many, but my mercies outweigh them all."  Love and
interest for her friends seemed often to dwell in her heart beyond the
power of expression.  Speaking of those who were members of the meeting
to which she belonged, she sent messages to each, and made appropriate
remarks respecting them individually, dwelling with especial comfort on
the remembrance of those among them who were bearing the burden of the
day, and labouring to promote their great Master's cause.  She afterwards
said, whilst tears of tenderness flowed, "Oh! how many comfortable
meetings I have had in that little meeting-house, how have I loved to go
and sit there!  It was not a little illness that kept me away: and how
has it rejoiced my heart to see individuals come in, who have been as the
anointed and sent!"  On being told one morning that Friends were going to
meeting, she said, "May they know the Sun of righteousness to arise as
with healing in his wings;" emphatically adding, "I think they will."

At another time she sent messages of love to many of the members of her
Monthly Meeting, adding with an expression of feeling, to which those
around could not be insensible.  "But I cannot name all; my love is
universal; God is love."

One night, when in great pain, she acknowledged in grateful terms, the
kindness of her attendants, and her belief that a blessing with a full
recompense would be given them; and addressing one of them, she
continued, "I love thee tenderly, and feel thee near in the best life--in
the truth that is blessed for ever."  Afterwards, she broke forth with an
audible voice thus: "Bless the Lord, oh my soul! and praise him for all
his benefits.  What can I do! how shall I praise him enough!"  And then,
as with melody of soul, she added,--

   "Heavenly blessings without number,
      Gently falling on my head."

After taking an affectionate farewell of those around her, and addressing
them in an instructive and encouraging manner, she added, "I can heartily
say, that death is robbed of its sting, and the grave of its victory.
Thanks be unto God who giveth the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ."
And again, "Praise and magnify the Lord!  Oh if I could sing, I would
sing his praise!"

To some beloved relatives, from a distance, who came to see her, she
testified of her faith, hope, and confidence,--acknowledged, that
although frail in body, she was strong in the Lord, and in the power of
his might; and expressed her desire, that they might all meet where
partings are not known, adding, "goodness and mercy have followed me all
the days of my life; and there is a promise for the poor in spirit that
will be fulfilled, 'When the poor and needy seek water and there is none,
and their tongue faileth for thirst, I the Lord will hear them, I the God
of Israel will not forsake them.'"

She was permitted to pass quietly away without any apparent pain, and is
now, we reverently and thankfully believe, an inhabitant of that city
"which hath no need of the sun, neither of the moon to shine in it; for
the glory of God doth lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof."

DAVID PRIESTMAN, _Gorton_, _Manchester_.  Son of Henry and Mary
Priestman.  3 8mo. 1 1850

RACHEL PROUD, _Scarborough_.  A Minister.  77 5mo. 4 1850

WILLIAM PUCKRIN, _near Whitby_.  87 11mo. 27 1849

ANN PUGH, _Tyddyn-y-gareg_, _North Wales_.  90 6mo. 24 1850

ANN PUMPHREY, _Worcester_.  84 4mo. 22 1850

SARAH RACEY, _Norwich_.  Widow of Thomas Racey.  72 11mo. 25 1850

JAMES RANSOME, _Rushmere_, _Ipswich_.  67 11mo. 22 1849

ANNE RAWLINSON, _Newton-in-Cartmel_.  45 12mo. 12 1849

DEBORAH REYNOLDS, _Rochester_.  76 5mo. 4 1850

SARAH REYNOLDS, _Liverpool_.  68 5mo. 19 1850

SUSANNA REYNOLDS, _Oldswenford_, _Stourbridge_.  Wife of John Reynolds.
45 12mo. 28 1849

WILLIAM RICHARDS, _Wellington_.  73 12mo. 19 1849

JOSIAH RICHARDSON, _Peckham_.  84 1mo. 8 1850

HELENA RICHARDSON, _Belfast_.  Wife of John G. Richardson.  30 12mo. 7
1849

HANNAH RICKERBY, _Burgh_, _near Carlisle_.  50 7mo. 13 1850

JOSEPH ROBINSON, _Stoke Newington Road_, _London_.  72 7mo. 6 1850

WILLIAM ROBINSON, _Bellevile_, _near Dublin_.  62 10mo. 26 1849

FREDERICK ROBINSON, _Dublin_.  Son of Samuel S. and Charlotte Robinson.
16 12mo. 16 1849

MARY ROBINSON, _Fleetwood_.  Widow of Isaac Robinson.  77 2mo. 8 1850

JANE ROBINSON, _Whinfell Hall_, _Pardshaw_.  Wife of Wilson Robinson.  84
7mo. 15 1850

REBECCA ROBINSON, _Tottenham_.  Wife of James Robinson.  56 10mo. 11 1849

ANNE ROBSON, _Sunderland_.  Wife of Thomas Robson.  65 3mo. 20 1850

HENRY ROBSON, _Huddersfield_.  Son of Thomas Robson.  51 8mo. 12 1850

JOSEPH RUSSELL, _Cork_.  61 1mo. 14 1850

JAMES SANSOM, _Tideford_.  An Elder.  73 10mo. 10 1849

MARIA SCALES, _Nottingham_.  Daughter of Lydia Scales.  32 4mo. 16 1850

It often pleases our heavenly Father to carry forward the work of divine
grace, in the hearts of his children, by means, and through
dispensations, altogether unfathomable to the finite comprehension of
men; but the humble believer, looking beyond the changing rugged path of
this life, with filial love and confidence can repose on the mercy and
goodness of the Lord, and believingly apply the language of our Saviour,
"What I do thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter."

In very early life, the subject of the present brief notice was made
sensible of the contriting influence of divine grace on her heart, so
that many of her earliest recollections were fraught with love to her
Saviour.

For many years, she was subject to attacks of illness of a very trying
character, in connection with which, she was brought as into the very
furnace of affliction, and earnest were her prayers, that 'patience might
have her perfect work,' and that through faith in the wisdom of her
heavenly Father, she might become fully resigned to his holy will; and a
sense of his supporting power and presence, were often mercifully granted
to her, in times of severest suffering.

Her last illness was short: two days previous to her decease, she
remarked, "I have had an awful night," but added, "my mind is calm and
peaceful, I can now _quite_ say, 'Thy will be done;'" and to the remark,
"His grace is sufficient for thee," she replied, "Oh yes! and without
that, we can do nothing; I cast all upon Him, and can say, I fully trust
in His will, and in His power."

JOSEPH SEFTON, _Liverpool_.  66 12mo. 15 1849

SARAH SEWELL, _Wereham_, _Norfolk_.  85 11mo. 4 1849

GEORGE SHAW, _Clonmel_.  68 12mo. 22 1849

SUSANNA SHEPPARD, _Mile End Road_, _Middlesex_.  97 4mo. 16 1850

BETTY SHIPLEY, _Derby_.  Widow of John Shipley, of Uttoxeter.  86 2mo. 3
1850

MARGARET SIKES, _Ashburton_, _Ireland_.  Wife of William Sikes.  48 5mo.
4 1850

ALICE SILL, _Kendal_.  82 6mo. 1 1850

GEORGE SIMPSON, _Birkenhead_.  58 7mo. 5 1850

SUSANNA SMITH, _Drynah_, _Mountmelick_.  Widow of Humphry Smith.  80
11mo. 19 1849

MARY SMITH, _Darlington_.  77 3mo. 2 1850

ABIGAIL SMITH, _Preston_.  70 5mo. 12 1850

HANNAH SMITH, _Walton_, _Liverpool_.  Wife of Henry H. Smith.  58 1mo. 23
1850

CASSANDRA SMITH, _Birmingham_.  Died at Dover.  49 9mo. 27 1849

JOHN SMITH, _Winchmorehill_.  77 7mo. 11 1850

ELIZABETH SNOWDEN, _Bradford_.  Daughter of John and Ann Snowden.  21
7mo. 21 1850

MARY ANN SPARKES, _Exeter_.  41 2mo. 3 1850

ELIZA COLE SPARKES, _Exeter_.  Daughter of Thomas and Esther Maria
Sparkes.  1 4mo. 29 1850

JOSEPH SPENCE, _York_.  An Elder.  75 9mo. 26 1850

CHARLES SPENCE, _Darlington_.  Son of Charles and Hannah Spence.  6 12mo.
8 1849

MARY SPENCER, _South Lodge, Cockermouth_.  69 6mo. 30 1850

WILLIAM SQUIRE, _Stoke Newington_.  59 3mo. 24 1850

DORCAS SQUIRE, _King's Langley_, _Hempstead_, _Herts_.  67 1mo. 9 1850

CATHERINE DYKE STADE, _Aberavon_, _Glamorgan_.  Daughter of J. and R. D.
Stade.  6 11mo. 26 1849

SUSANNA STANILAND, _Hull_.  78 8mo. 26 1850

JAMES STEEVENS, _Basingstoke_.  59 2mo. 25 1850

MARY STRETCH, _Nantwich_.  Widow of Richard Stretch.  80 3mo. 25 1850

ELIZABETH STRETCH, _Finedon_.  Widow of Samuel Stretch, of Hortherton,
Cheshire.  75 2mo. 27 1850

SARAH TACKABERRY, _Ballygunner_, _Waterford_.  Widow.  88 5mo. 12 1850

GEORGE NORTH TATHAM, _Headingley_, _Leeds_.  78 5mo. 19 1850

JAMES TAYLOR, _Heston_, _near Brentford_.  79 2mo. 7 1850

BENJAMIN THOMPSON, _Spring Hill_, _Lurgan_.  77 3mo. 19 1850

THOMAS THOMSON, _Dublin_.  Son of Benjamin and Sarah Thomson.  23 11mo.
21 1849

PHILIP H. L. THORNTON, _Sidcot_.  Son of William and Catherine Thornton.
22 6mo. 5 1850

The subject of this memoir was a native of Kingsbridge, Devonshire; and
was educated among Friends.  He was not by birth a member of our Society,
but was received into membership a short time previous to his death.
Having been adopted by his uncle, he was taken to Ireland, when about
fourteen years of age, as an apprentice to one of the Provincial Schools,
of which his uncle was the superintendent.

Endowed with natural abilities well adapted for the acquisition of
knowledge, and possessing a taste for various branches of literature and
science,--gifted, too, with engaging manners and affability of
disposition, he became, as he grew up, a general favourite amongst those
with whom he associated, and his immediate relatives indulged in fond
hopes of his becoming an honourable and useful charter.  His best
friends, however, were sometimes anxious on his account, lest the
caresses of the world should turn aside his feet from the path of safety,
and prevent that entire surrender of heart and life to the requirements
of the gospel, which alone consists with true Christian discipleship, and
affords a well-grounded expectation of real usefulness and permanent well-
being.  But he was open to receive the admonitions of his friends, and
there is reason to believe that the voice of Christian counsel was
instrumental to his good.

He was never very robust; and his application to study, in addition to
his stated duties, was, perhaps, not favourable to bodily vigour.  Before
the expiration of his apprenticeship, he became so enfeebled, as to cause
his relations much anxiety; and as his uncle and aunt had withdrawn from
the Institution, the Committee of the School kindly acceded to their
proposal to remove him to their own house.  Here he soon rallied; and in
the summer, of 1848, applied for the situation of teacher of Sidcot
School.  He entered upon the duties of the station with earnestness and
zeal; and the notice and encouragement which he there received, tended
both to render his occupation a delight, and to draw forth the more
hidden depths of his character.  His heart was in his work, and the field
of labour particularly congenial to his taste.

A few months, however, sufficed to bring on a return of delicacy, and
rendered it advisable that he should retire for a while from active duty;
but the following year, apparently with renovated powers, he again
resumed his post.  For a while, he appeared to think that his health was
becoming confirmed; but about the commencement of another year, he was
rapidly brought low, and nearly disqualified for the performance of his
school duties.  He was however retained in his office, with delicate
attention to his known wishes, until in the 4th month, 1850, he was
obliged to withdraw, and again make his uncle's house at Mountmelick his
home.  The following extracts from letters and memoranda written previous
to his leaving Sidcot, show the state of his mind at that period.

2nd mo. 10th.  "I often feel,--oftener than ever, that the thread of life
is in me weak,--very weak; and, oh! I am sometimes almost overwhelmed
with the retrospects, and prospects, this feeling opens to my view.  I
feel that I have been pursuing false jewels, sometimes those which have
no appearance even of external brilliance, and the _Pearl_ has escaped my
notice.  I have, I believe, earnestly desired that I may be enabled to
see the true and real beauty of the Pearl, and its inestimable value, in
such a light, that nothing may again warp my attention from it."

2nd mo. 23rd, 1850.  "My weakness of body, and frequent illnesses, have
brought before my mind the great uncertainty of my continuing long in
this scene of probation.  I feel that I have lived hitherto 'without God
in the world,' plunged in sin and darkness; that my sins are a greater
burden than I can bear; and unless my all merciful God and Father,
through his dear Son, forgive them, and relieve me from them, I fear they
will draw me with them to the lowest grave."

"I believe my heart's desire is, to walk in the narrow way,--to be the
Lord's on his own terms, and to be humbled even in the dust.  The evil
one suggests, that I can never be forgiven, and fills my soul with doubts
and fears; but, oh Lord! thou hast said, 'He that cometh to me, I will in
no wise cast out.'"

2nd mo. 24th.  "Strong desires are in my heart, that I may be favoured
with an assurance of forgiveness; but, oh! I fear that my repentance is
not sincere, that the pride of the world still holds place in my heart.
Oh Lord!  I pray thee that thou wilt use thy sharp threshing instrument,
and break in pieces all that is at variance with thy holy will."

"This is First-day.  Be pleased to keep the door of my lips, Oh Father!
and reign absolutely in my thoughts; grant that meeting may be a time of
favour and visitation, and that I may be enabled to wait patiently for
thee.  Oh! that I could keep the world from pouring on me as a flood, at
such times: Thou, gracious Father, canst enable me to do this."

3rd mo. 1st.  "Struggles seem to be my portion, in which the world, the
flesh, and the devil often seem likely to get the victory.  Lord, grant
through the blessed Saviour, that if I have found the good part, nothing
may be permitted to take it from me.  I greatly desire an increase of
faith.  Alas!  I feel the little I have fail sometimes."

6th.  "Oh! that none of the Lord's intentions respecting me, may be
frustrated by my disobedience and unwatchfulness.  Oh! I feel that I am
indolent and very lukewarm, if not cold altogether, in attending to my
soul's salvation, and in doing all for the Lord's glory.  Thou knowest,
oh Lord! that I am very weak in body; but, oh! grant that I may not make
that a cover for indolence and lukewarmness.  Thou hast known my peculiar
trials, and I thank thee that thou hast, through the dear Lamb, granted
me strength to bear them."

After his return to Mountmelick, this dear youth lived seven weeks, and
during this time his company was most sweet and instructive; the tenor of
his conduct and conversation being beautifully regulated by the influence
of the divine Spirit, bringing, in great measure, as there was reason to
believe, every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ; and the
composure and serenity of his countenance, clearly indicated the sweet
peace which pervaded his mind.

About the end of Fifth Month, it became evident that the final change was
drawing near.  This he was enabled to look to without dismay; saying,
when a fear was expressed that he could not continue long: "I cannot say
that I have any fear."

On the night of the 2nd of 6th Month, he said: "I wish I could feel a
stronger assurance of acceptance with the Almighty;" and afterwards he
requested to have the 23rd Psalm read to him.

The next morning, sitting up in his bed, he remarked: "There remaineth a
rest for the people of God;" and, after a pause, "I want more of that
faith, of which I fear I possess so little; and yet, when I have asked
for what was proper and needful for me, it has not been denied.  I desire
to be enabled to pass through the valley of humiliation, without much
conflict; and then comes the valley of the shadow of death:--only a
shadow! the finger of God will guide safe through, all those who put
their trust in him: 'Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow
of death, I will fear no evil; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.'
The rod to chasten, the staff to support!  Oh! all that is of the world,
and all that is in it, are worthless in my sight.  If the Lord has any
work for me to do on earth, I trust I am willing to do it; but if not, I
have no wish to stay."

In the afternoon, the beloved invalid broke forth with the following
expressions: "The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want;" emphatically
adding, "What a very precious promise!" and, after a short pause,--"Come
now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord, though your sins be as
scarlet, they shall be white as snow, though they be red like crimson,
they shall be as wool," remarking, "and this was under the old
dispensation.  Oh!  I hope my sins are gone beforehand to judgment; but
there seem to be so many fresh sins, I have so much time that I do not
improve as I ought; but the poor weak body and this weak mind too!"  On
its being remarked, that we did not serve a hard master, he seemed
comforted, and continued, "Oh! that I could see the pearl gates; but I
fear I have not faith enough, nor love enough to love Him perfectly who
first loved me, and died for me, yes! even for _me_!  Oh! I desire to
throw myself at his feet; how I wish I could love him better, and serve
him more."

The whole of Fourth-day he seemed fast sinking, and calmly spoke of death
as very near.  He craved for patience, again and again, making use of
many sweet expressions as his end drew near.  "O Jesus! sweet Jesus,
come!" and placing his hands together, supplicated thus: "Oh, dear Lord!
if it be thy will, be pleased to take me, for the sake of thy dear Son."
And, again, "Thy will be done."  He remarked, "I believe I am passing
through the dark valley of the shadow of death;" and on the hope being
expressed that he would be supported through, he responded, "Through
mercy!"  Soon after this, he sank into a quiet sleep, which lasted some
hours; and, shortly after waking, the unfettered spirit took its flight
so gently, as scarcely to be perceptible to those around.

FRANCES HENSHAWE THORPE, _Overbury_, _Tewkesbury_.  Widow of Thomas
Thorpe.  65 10mo. 5 1849

WILLIAM TODHUNTER, _Dublin_.  46 1mo. 19 1850

SUSANNA TODHUNTER, _Dublin_.  Widow of John Todhunter.  74 2mo. 2 1850

SUSANNA TODHUNTER, _Dublin_.  Daughter of Thomas H. and Hannah Todhunter.
1 8mo. 30 1850

CATHERINE TOMS, _Amersham_.  67 1mo. 8 1850

ALEXANDER TOWNSEND, _Rathrush_, _Kilconnor_.  70 12mo. 7 1849

CROUDSON TUNSTALL, _Alvaston Grove_, _Nantwich_.  An Elder.  68 11mo. 17
1849

Dedication to the cause of truth, marked the character of our dear
friend; and divine grace wrought effectually in him--breaking the
obstructions of the natural mind--smoothing the rugged path of life, and
enabling him to rejoice in the mercy which followed him, and which was
his support through many tribulations.

It was his earnest desire to know _in himself_ a growth in the truth, and
to have his building firm on the Rock of ages.  His diligence in the
support of our meetings for worship and discipline, and the reverent
frame of his spirit in these meetings, was animating and exemplary to his
friends, as was also his daily circumspect walk.  The chastenings of
divine love produced profitable experience, and being accepted by him,
with humble gratitude and prayerful submission, his heart was enriched by
spiritual blessings.  When near the confines of time, and the power of
utterance nearly gone, he was reminded by a friend of the faithfulness
and tender mercy of our Saviour, when he emphatically replied,--"_That_
is my only comfort."  Thus under the rapid decay of the outward man, he
possessed a peaceful mind, in that blessed hope which had been in his
day, as the anchor to his soul--"sure and steadfast."

THOMAS WADDINGTON, _Penketh_.  49 9mo. 3 1850

JOHN WAITHMAN, _Yealand_.  49 11mo. 2 1849

MARIA WALKER, _Wooldale_, _Yorkshire_.  Daughter of Samuel Walker.  24
10mo. 18 1849

HANNAH WALKER, _Dirtcar_, _Wakefield_.  Wife of Robert Walker.  68 4mo. 3
1850

BARBARA WALLER, _York_.  70 11mo. 13 1849

The quiet acquiescence of this dear friend, in the divine will, under
changes of circumstances involving, to her energetic and lively mind,
much suffering, appeared to many of her immediate friends, deeply
instructive.  In early life, she was, for several years, resident in the
family of her brother Stephen Waller, at Clapton; and during the long
continued illness of his wife, took charge of the family, including an
interesting group of young children, between whom and herself the
tenderest affection subsisted.  On the restoration of her sister's
health, she came to reside with her brother Robert Waller, of York.

In the First month, 1829, at the solicitation of the committee, she
consented to undertake, for a time, the domestic care of the Boys'
School, then first established by York Quarterly Meeting, in that city.
Though in delicate health, and with a voice which she could rarely raise
above a whisper, she soon became so warmly interested in the institution,
as to prevent the necessity for further inquiry for a female head.  Her
active and executive mind, found here a large field of usefulness, which
she well occupied.  Her kind interest in the institution, the scholars
and the officers, increased from year to year.  Her ability in providing
for and securing the comfort of all around her, always conspicuous, was
eminently so in times of sickness, whether of more or less severity.  On
these occasions, besides her power of skilfully ministering to physical
comforts, her quiet spirit, knowing where she herself had sought and
found consolation, could direct others to the same unfailing Source.

At the close of the year 1836, in consequence of the decease of her
sister Hannah, the wife of Robert Waller, she was called from the scene
of her arduous, yet to her, pleasant labours; the beneficial results of
which were, the establishment of orderly arrangement, and plans of
domestic comfort, essential to the well-being of a school.  She remained
with her brother at Holdgate, till the time of his second marriage, when
change was again her allotment.  After a short absence from York she
finally settled there.  Her declining health rendered repose needful,
although the liveliness of her spirits enabled her greatly to enjoy
frequent intercourse with her friends;--and the school, the scene of her
former labours, was an object of continued affectionate interest.

In recording these few incidents, which we well know, of themselves, are
of little importance, perhaps entirely insignificant to the general
reader, we believe, nevertheless, that a useful lesson may be conveyed.
The path of our dear friend was, remarkably, not one of her own choosing;
most of the changes of place and circumstance which she experienced,
involved much that was painful; yet under all, the quiet, peaceful,
thankful resignation which she was enabled to attain, shewed where her
hopes were anchored, and proved the power of divine grace to make hard
things easy.  For many months previous to her decease, she was confined
to her couch, and latterly to her bed.  During this period, she bore with
unrepining patience, much bodily suffering; but her cheerful and
energetic mind still retained its characteristic vigour.  In this, her
last illness, the kind attentions, and tender cares, which she had so
often ministered to others, were abundantly repaid to herself.  In
addition to the assiduous and faithful services of the family with whom
she had taken up her abode, and who became warmly attached to her, she
had for many weeks previous to her decease, the tenderest attention of
one of her affectionate nieces, of whose infant years she had been the
watchful guardian.

A friend who frequently visited her on her bed of suffering, says, "In
some of my last visits to her, her expression of firm and loving reliance
upon the Lord, whose support she had been wont to seek in the time of
health, as well as in that of suffering, was a sweet testimony to the
blessedness of having made him her portion.  She told me how comforted
she had been under great bodily weakness, when she felt unable definitely
to put up her petitions, in the lively remembrance that she had a never-
failing Advocate with the Father, touched with a feeling of her
infirmities, ever living to make intercession for her.  'Oh!' she
remarked, 'the sense of it has been precious to me.'"  Thus peace and
thankfulness were the frequent clothing of her spirit, till her earthly
house of this tabernacle was quietly dissolved, and exchanged, we
reverently believe, for 'a house not made with hands, eternal in the
heavens.'

ALICE WALLER, _The Howe_, _Halsted_.  Widow of Robert Waller, of York.  76
6mo. 25 1850

Of the childhood of our friend we know but little.  Her parents were
members of our religious Society, and brought up their children in
conformity with its practices.  She was, at rather an early age, placed
at the school for girls at York, which had, at that time, some peculiar
advantages in regard to the religious and moral care of the pupils.  But
from this enclosure she was soon recalled, to be the companion of her
invalid mother; and at the early age of sixteen, when her beloved parent
was removed by death, she took the charge of her father's domestic
concerns, and resided with him till her marriage with Benjamin Horner of
York.

Although the shortness of the period she remained at school, might be
disadvantageous to her in several respects, yet it is highly probable
that, in her mother's sick chamber, some impressions were made, and
lessons learned, which were as seeds sown to bring forth fruit in a
future day.

Her husband's circle of acquaintance was an extensive, and, in its
character, a much varied one; and, for some years, Alice Horner mingled
much in gay society, occasionally frequenting with her husband places of
amusement, especially those in which music formed the chief attraction.
But during this period, in which she may be said to have lived to
herself, she was not without compunctuous visitations; and as the
responsibilities of a mother came upon her, she increasingly felt the
seriousness of life, and the duty, as well as the privilege, of living to
God, and being enabled to look unto Him as a Father and a Friend.

These feelings appear to have gradually gained ascendancy in her mind,
and her prevalent desire became, to be a Christian upon Christ's own
terms.  She felt herself as one who had been forgiven much, and therefore
loved much,--striving to be no more conformed to this world, but
transformed by the renewing of her mind.  Her conscience became not only
enlightened, but tender; and yielding to what she believed to be her duty
to God, she not only refrained from all the public amusements in which
she had formerly taken pleasure, but acted in her associations with
others, consistently with her views as a Friend.  If in this strait path;
walking much alone and inexperienced in the way: she sometimes erred, we
believe it was rather on the side of decision, than on that of undue
yielding.  She seemed to live under a sense of that saying of the
apostle, "Whatsoever is not of faith is sin."  And whilst the course
which she pursued could not fail to restrict, in some degree, her
intercourse with the world, those with whom she still associated, (and
her circle continued to be a wide one,) appeared in general to estimate
her motives; and many of them entertained an increased love and respect
for her character; and He who, above all things, she desired to serve,
was pleased abundantly to comfort and strengthen her in all her trials.

The death of her only daughter, at the age of nineteen, as well as that
of her husband after a short illness, a few years subsequently, were
close trials to her; but she bowed in humble submission to these
dispensations, and, under the chastening hand of the Lord, it became
increasingly evident, that the "one thing needful" was steadily kept in
her view.  She was diligent in her attendance of our religious meetings,
and often remarked, that she had been permitted to find in them "a
resting place to her soul."

After her second marriage, with Robert Waller of Holdgate near York, her
health, which for a long time had not been strong, began more rapidly to
decline, and at the death of her husband, after a long and protracted
illness, she was so complete an invalid, as to be chiefly confined to her
bed for many months together.  This was a great trial upon her faith and
patience; but her hope and trust in her Saviour's love never forsook her,
and often through her long illness, she was enabled to look forward with
hope and joy to that time, when "absent from the body," she should be
"present with the Lord."

Six months after her husband's death, she was removed, in an invalid
carriage, to the residence of her eldest son in Essex, whose house
continued to be her home the remainder of her days.  In writing to a much
beloved friend, from this quiet retreat soon after her arrival, she
remarks,--"Every comfort and every indulgence is allotted to me by my
attentive children.  Oh what boundless demands upon my gratitude are thus
poured forth.  I would gladly hope not without a heartfelt acknowledgment
to that Almighty Giver, who is the author of all our manifold mercies.
For all things I reverently thank my God and Saviour, remembering you my
dear friends, whom I have left, with the truest affection."  To the same
friend, who herself was suffering from illness, she again writes, "Oh,
dearest ---, how many of His dear children does the Lord keep long in the
furnace, yet if he do but grant his presence there, and watch over the
refining process he designs to be accomplished, there ought to be no
complaining either of the length of time, or the severity of the
operation, but through all, the full fruits of resignation should be
brought forth in perfection, to his praise, and his glory.  That so it
may be, my dear friend, forms a wish on my own account as well as on
thine, day by day.  The time has appeared long to me, that I have been
required to lay under the rod, but when we measure time as did the
Apostle of old, and think of it as a vapour that quickly passeth away, or
as a shadow that abideth not, we see that it is but for a little moment
that our chastening can endure.  I cannot forbear beholding my day as far
spent; but I do rejoice to see heaven as a place of rest for me,--yes,
even for me! through the blood shed for my sins on Calvary's Mount.  This
mercy in Christ Jesus, how precious it is to dwell upon."

Alice Waller loved the company of all those that loved the Lord Jesus,
and especially the messengers of the gospel were acceptable to her.  On
one occasion when receiving a visit from a friend, whilst laid upon her
bed of suffering, she, in great contrition, expressed her sense of her
heavenly Father's love and mercy to _her_, a poor creature, adding, "I
feel bound to tell of His marvellous goodness to me, even to me, by night
and by day upon my bed, in seasons of trial I have been comforted by my
Saviour's presence."

In the beginning of the Sixth Month, 1850, she became more poorly, and
both herself and her children were impressed with the belief that her end
was drawing near; on the 15th she passed a very trying day, but in the
evening revived a little and spoke most sweetly of the fulness and
clearness of her hope, and her perfect confidence in the love and mercy
of her God, extended to her for the sake of her beloved Saviour; she was
full of sweetness and affection to all around her, her heart overflowing
with gratitude to God and man.  "Dear Hannah C. Backhouse," she remarked,
"visited me a short time before I came here, and she said, 'I believe
Jesus has thrown his arm of everlasting love around thee, and is drawing
thee nearer and nearer to himself, and he will draw thee nearer and
nearer, till at last He will press thee into his bosom.'  It was a sweet
message; I have often thought upon it since, and I now feel such close
union of spirit with God, that I cannot doubt it is even so."  On the
passage of Scripture being repeated, "The angel of the Lord encampeth
round about them that fear him," she added, "yes, and preserveth
them.--'This poor man cried, and the Lord heard him and delivered him
from all his troubles.'  The fear of the Lord has been my support for
many years past."  And on being reminded of that verse of Scripture, "Thy
rod and thy staff they comfort me," she said, "He has been my staff and
my rod in the dark valley of death, keeping my head above the waters, and
he has given me hope full of immortality,--full of immortality! and I
shall dwell in the house of the Lord for ever; I humbly trust that such
will be my portion."  She then remarked "It is just a week to-day since I
began to be so very ill;--strange conflict of the body, with the mind so
perfectly tranquil, in strong confirmation of the blessed promise, 'Thou
wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on thee.'--I have
often thought I heard the song of Moses and of the Lamb, as I lay here in
deep exhaustion."  At another time she remarked, "I have often sinned,
and erred much, but I have One in heaven that pleadeth for me."

She hailed with much joy the arrival of a beloved friend, and spoke of
the event as filling up the only remaining desire she had on earth; their
meeting was a season of mutual love and thanksgiving to the Lord.  On
Second day, the 24th, she said, "I am so loosed from every thing below,
as I could not have believed;" and in the evening expressed that she was
so filled with thankfulness her heart was overflowing!  She intimated her
belief, when her room was made ready for the night, that it would be the
last she should have to pass, and the next morning it became evident that
she was rapidly sinking.  It was said to her that it was a long and
trying travel, but she was near to a better land! when she quickly
responded, "Yes, Emanuel's land:" and on its being remarked, "The crown
is nearly won;" she emphatically replied, "Oh, I wish it were on!"  A
short time after this, her redeemed spirit was gently liberated from the
shackles of mortality, to be, we humbly believe, "for ever with the
Lord."

FANNY MARTIN WALLER, _Guildford_.  Daughter of the late Thomas Waller.  30
12mo. 14 1849

EDWARD WALLIS, _Melksham_.  Son of Abraham Wallis, of London.  26 3mo. 6
1850

JOHN WALTON, _Southport_.  61 1mo. 7 1850

ALFRED WATKINS, _Eydon_, _Northamptonshire_.  Son of John and Susanna
Watkins.  16 4mo. 22 1850

JANE WATSON, _Allonby_, _Cumberland_.  85 10mo. 20 1849

FERGUS WATSON, _Allonby_.  90 1mo. 21 1850

ANN WATSON, _Heworth_, _Newcastle-on-Tyne_.  Wife of John Watson.  72
12mo. 6 1849

MARY WATSON, _Cockermouth_.  64 10mo 18 1849

LUCY BELL WESTWOOD, _Brampton_, _Hunts_.  Daughter of John and Elizabeth
Westwood.  17 3mo. 19 1850

JOSEPH WHEELER, _Birmingham_.  81 11mo. 21 1849

THOMAS WHITE, _Ratcliff_, _London_.  80 3mo. 7 1850

JANE WHITE, _Chesham_, _Bucks_.  41 1mo. 2 1850

MARIA BELLA WHITE, _Henley-on-Thames_.  Widow of Gabriel G. White.  84
8mo. 17 1850

ANNE WHITFIELD, _near Coothill_, _Ireland_.  85 3mo. 12 1850

RICHARD WHITING, _Tottenham_.  84 7mo. 3 1850

ANNE WHITTEN, _Roscrea_, _Ireland_.  Widow.  72 3mo. 24 1850

MAUDLIN WICKETT, _Darlington_.  Widow of Benjamin Wickett.  94 11mo. 15
1849

WILLIAM WILLIAMS, _Denbigh_, _Cheshire_.  70 11mo. 2 1849

WILLIAM WILSON, _Bradford_.  82 11mo. 23 1849

The following account has much of it been taken from a brief memoir of
William Wilson, which appeared in the "Bradford Observer," and which has
since been published as a tract.

William Wilson might truly be said to be "an Israelite indeed, in whom
there was no guile."  He had his _peculiarities_ of character, but with
all, was _singularly good_, and we cannot doubt that his prayers and his
alms, had come up for a memorial before Him, who seeth in secret.

At the age of fifty, with an ample fortune, he relinquished a business,
in which he had most diligently laboured, when the full tide of
prosperity was flowing in upon him, in order that he might devote his
time, and the means placed by Providence at his disposal, to the cause of
neglected and suffering humanity.

For more than thirty years it became the essential and exclusive
employment of his life, to explore and to relieve cases of poverty and
distress, and in the accomplishment of this undertaking, he employed the
same assiduity and care, which he had been wont to exercise in the
management of his secular calling, distributing many times at the rate of
a thousand pounds a year.

As a steward of the gifts of God, he carefully invested his money so as
to secure a fair rate of interest, and on no occasion did he relax from
the utmost exactness in his monetary dealings; and yet it is believed
that his personal and domestic expenditure never reached 150 pounds per
annum.

His house, like his person, was a pattern of plainness and simplicity.
His furniture consisted of nothing fashionable or superfluous; and his
table was equally marked by comfort and frugality.

He was a warm advocate in the cause of Temperance, and was deeply
interested in the subject of "the prevention of Cruelty to Animals."

Of Tracts, he must have paid for, and circulated gratuitously, some
millions!  His whole time and energies were fully employed, and often
heavily taxed, in devising and carrying out schemes of mercy and
benevolence, and his life presented one uniform tenor of consistent
piety.  To strangers he might appear reserved, but his apparent reserve
only resulted from his constitutional modesty, and retiring habits,
whilst to those who enjoyed his friendship, he was frank, open, and
intelligent in no ordinary degree.

William Wilson was never robust, but toward the close of his life, his
feebleness became more apparent; for more than a week he was confined to
his bed, but without any urgent symptom of disease.  His mind was calm
and peaceful,--he knew and loved his Saviour, and through His mediation,
we cannot doubt he has inherited the blessing to the pure in heart,
leaving behind him, in many respects, an example worthy to be followed,
practically bearing a noble testimony to "christian moderation and
temperance in all things," and against that covetousness which is
idolatry.  The memory of such a man is blessed.

ELIZABETH WILSON, _Rawden_.  69 4mo. 12 1850

MARY WILSON, _Kendal_.  Widow.  60 1mo. 31 1850

JAMES WILSON, _Elm Farm_, _Liverpool_.  76 10mo. 31 1849

ELIZABETH WOOD, _Chelmsford_.  68 1mo. 17 1850

JANE WOOD, _Highflatts_.  Wife of John Wood.  28 4mo. 4 1850

FRANCIS WRIGHT, _Kettering_.  76 5mo. 13 1850

THOMAS WRIGHT, _Cork_.  61 10mo. 9 1849

Many, both within the limits of our own Society and out of it, can bear
testimony to the integrity, benevolence, and Christian deportment of this
dear friend.  In his transactions with his fellow-men, he was
particularly careful not to over-reach, or to avail himself of advantages
subversive to their interests; and in the social circle, as well as among
the poor, his kindness of disposition was conspicuous.  During the
scarcity of provision in Ireland, his liberality was great, and his
exertions on behalf of the destitute almost unremitting.

His illness commenced in the early part of the 9th month, 1849, and on
finding that the complaint did not yield to remedies, he expressed his
earnest desire for resignation to the divine will, remarking, that
whatever might be the termination, he believed "all would be well."  He
intimated, that he had not been one who could give much expression to his
religious feelings, but that for many years his mind had been daily
exercised before the Lord on his own behalf, as well as on that of his
family.  The prosperity of our religious Society lay very near to his
heart, and he expressed his earnest desire for its preservation in
"humility and simplicity."

The patience with which he bore the debility attendant upon his complaint
was remarkable; His mind expanded in love to his family, his friends, and
to all the world, repeating emphatically, "I love them all."

He frequently spoke of his willingness to depart; and as his illness
advanced, there appeared an increasing sweetness and solemnity in his
manner, and he mostly addressed those about him in terms of affection,
expressing his thankfulness for their attention, and desiring that the
Lord would strengthen them.  On a hope being expressed that his mind was
peaceful, he replied, "Yes, quite so."  He took an affectionate leave of
his wife and those around him; after which nature rapidly sank, and he
quietly, and it is humbly believed, peacefully expired.

ELIZA WRIGHT, _Sutton_, _Cambridgeshire_.  Daughter of Thomas and Mary
Wright.  7 9mo. 8 1850

THOMAS WEIGHT, _Sutton_.  49 9mo. 16 1850

HENRY WRIGHT, _Middlesboro_.  30 9mo. 10 1849

JOHN FULLER YOUELL, _Yarmouth_.  28 12mo. 1 1849



INFANTS whose names are not inserted.


Under one month . . . Boys 1 . . . Girls 1

From one to three months . . . do. 2 . . . do. 3

From three to six months . . . do. 1 . . . do. 3

From six to twelve months . . . do. 1 . . . do. 1



HANNAH CHAPMAN BACKHOUSE.


_Died_ 6_th of_ 5_th month_, 1850.

Hannah Chapman Backhouse was the daughter of Joseph and Jane Gurney; she
was born at Norwich the 9th of 2nd Month, 1787.  Of her very early life
she has left but little record.  She disliked study, and was fond of
boyish sports, until about the age of thirteen, when she began to feel
enjoyment in reading.

Possessed of a naturally powerful and energetic mind, with talents of a
very superior order, she soon began to take great delight in study, and
was ambitious to excel in every thing that she undertook.  Drawing she
pursued with intense eagerness, and in this and other acquirements, she
made great proficiency.  Until about the age of seventeen, her highest
enjoyment was derived from the cultivation of the intellectual powers,
and in the endeavour to raise these to their highest perfection, she
imagined the greatest happiness to consist.  In her journal she
writes:--"My thoughts have been this week, one continued castle in the
air of being an artist; the only reality they were built on, was my
having painted in oils better than I thought I could, and a feeling that
I shall in a little time succeed, and an unbounded ambition to do so.  I
have had many arguments with myself, to know if it would be right.  I
think it would, if I could make good use of it."

But gradually she found that no object which had this world for its
limit, could satisfy the cravings of an immortal soul.  She began to feel
that she was formed for higher purposes than the gratification of self in
its most refined and plausible form, and in 1806, we note the gradual
unfolding of that change of view, which through the operation of the Holy
Spirit, led her to the unreserved surrender of her whole being to the
service of her Lord;--a surrender that in so remarkable a manner marked
her unwavering path through the remaining portion of her dedicated life.
Speaking of this period, after her first attendance of the Yearly
Meeting, she says,--

July, 1806.  "This time, for almost the first in my life, I seem come to
a stand in the objects of my darling pursuits, which I may say have been
almost entirely the pursuit of pleasure, through the medium of the
understanding.  This I feel must be a useless search, for the further I
go, the more unattainable is the contentment which I hoped a degree of
excellence might have produced;--the further I go, the further does my
idea of perfection extend; therefore this way of attaining happiness I
find is impossible.  Never in my life was I so sensible of the real
weakness of man, though to all appearance so strong; for I am persuaded
that it is almost impossible to conduct oneself through this world,
without being sincerely religious.  The human mind must have an object,
and let that object be the attainment of eternal happiness. * * * After
such considerations, can I be so weak as not to make religion my only
pursuit?  That which will, I believe, bring my mind into beautiful order,
and, rendering all worldly objects subservient to its use, harmonize the
whole, and fit it to bear fruit to all eternity, and the fruit of
righteousness is peace.  I have felt my mind very much softened of late,
and more and more see the beauty of holiness, but all the progress I can
say that I have made towards it, is in loving it more;--yet I feel I have
a great way to go before my heart is entirely given up."

Feb. 9th, 1807.  "To-day I am twenty; let me endeavour to describe with
sincerity what twenty years have effected upon me; how difficult self-
love and blindness make answering the questions, What am I?  How far am I
advanced in the great end of being, the making such use of my time here,
that it may bear fruit when time with me is over?  When I look upon
myself with the greatest seriousness, how ill do I think of myself!  I
see myself endowed with powers, which I often, (I hope, with a pure and
unfeigned heart,) wish may be applied aright.  But in my mind, what
strong 'bulls of Bashan' compass me about!  What I fear most, and that
which sometimes comes upon me most awfully, is, that my will is not
properly brought into subjection. * * * Often when clothed with something
of heavenly love, do I feel that I had rather be a door-keeper in the
house of my God, than dwell in king's palaces, but I fear the general
tendency of my pursuits would make me more fit for the latter than the
former.  What I want and do most sincerely wish for, is, that I may be
truly humble, and that where pride now reigns, humility may prevail; and
where ambition, contentment."

In 1808, the death of a favourite first cousin appears to have been the
means of greatly deepening her serious impressions, and of increasing the
desire to "relieve herself," as she expresses it, "from the miserable
state of inconsistency in which a gay Friend is situated."  A short time
subsequent to this period, she writes:--

May, 1808.  "With my father and mother I left the Grove this morning,
with a mind much softened, though not afflicted by parting with those I
love, earnestly wishing that what I was going to attend,--the Yearly
Meeting, might stamp more deeply the impressions I had received.  We
reached Epping that night.  I felt very serious; Love seemed to have
smitten me, and under that banner, I earnestly hoped that I might be
enabled to partake of whatever might be set before me in the banqueting
house.  I saw that it would be right for me to say _thee_, and _thou_, to
everybody, and I begged that I might be so kept in love as to be enabled
to do it,--that love might draw me, not fear terrify me."

"How deeply I felt to enjoy First-day, and was strengthened at meeting.
For the first time, to-day I called the days of the week numerically, on
principle, it cost me at first a blush.  This day has afforded me deeper
and sweeter feelings than any I have yet passed; surprise and ridicule I
have felt to be useful!"

"Left Bury Hill early: I can look back to the time I have spent here as
the happiest in my life; and I have earnestly wished that my example and
influence in future life, may be useful to those whom, never before my
mind was so altered, did I love with so sweet or so great an affection."

After alluding to some further change, she writes; "I felt increasingly
the weight of advocating the cause I have engaged in; oh! may no word or
action of mine, stain the character I am assuming, and may no
self-exaltation be the consequence: the mind, I feel, must be kept deep
indeed, to avoid the rocks that do every where surround."

6th Month, 1808.  "Went to meeting--thought that by observing the
commandment, and confessing Christ before men, we should only be showing
the beautiful effect of obedience, in the fruit of the Spirit it
produces,--that it does not consist in speech, dress, or behaviour, but
that by being obedient in these and all things, to the law written in our
hearts; we should be overshadowed by that sweetness and quietness of
spirit, the fruits of which would prove whose government we are under."

7th Month, 1808, Cromer.  "Walked on the shore, the sky was illuminated
by the setting sun the scene was of nature's greatest beauty, I could not
speak, but it was not the effect of the scene.  Such scenes in which I
used to revel, have lost much of their influence in the inferior peace
they bring, to that which a few small sacrifices, the effect of
obedience, produce."

Grove, 11th Month, 1808.  "Patience tried, and censoriousness of mind and
some words allowed to have too much dominion.  The higher we rise, the
more we feel the foibles of others; and then the more need have we of the
spirit of love and charity, to be patient with them; and if we are not,
it is not excellence, but only the sight of it we have gained."

12th Month, 1808.  "I fear I have not sufficiently this week, wrestled
for the blessing of peace.  I am sensible of having the power of
pleasing, of having stronger natural powers and more acquirements than
most women,--I am conscious too, of having with all my might, sought that
which is highest, and that my heart has been made willing to sacrifice
all for the attainment of it, and wonders have I already known; if I do
not now diligently seek that which can make me feelingly ascribe all the
glory, where alone it is due, fruitless must all my talents be, and great
my fall."

12th Month, 12th, 1808.  "--- came, the conversation in the evening,
softened my heart in the deduction I drew from it, of what a prize was
our possession,--how anchorless the world seemed to be,--and I loved dear
Friends!"

2nd Month, 9th, 1809.  "Twenty-two years old.  Through the mercy of
everlasting kindness, great is the change that this year has wrought in
me; the power of Love has enticed me to begin that spiritual journey
which leads to the promised land: I have left, by His guidance and
strength, the bondage of Egypt, and have seen His wonders in the deep.
May the endeavour of my life be, to keep close to that Angel, who can
deliver us through the trials and dangers of the wilderness of this
world.

I have not studied much this year, yet I have almost every day read a
little, and never was my sight so clear into the intellectual world.  The
works of the head may, I believe, usefully occupy such portions of time
as are not necessary for discharging our relationship in society. * * *
But above all things be humble, which a love of all perfection is, I
believe, not only consistent with, but the root of."

In 1811, Hannah C. Gurney married Jonathan Backhouse, and settled at
Darlington.  The early years of her married life appear to have been much
devoted to her young family.  For a time, her journal was entirely
suspended; but in 1815 she writes: "These last four years, are perhaps
best left in that situation, in which spiritual darkness has in a great
measure involved them; it may be the sweet and new objects of external
love, and necessary attention in which I have been engaged, have too much
drawn my mind from internal watchfulness, after the first flow of
spiritual joy began to subside; or it has been the will of the Author of
all blessing to change the dispensation, and taking from me the light of
his love, in which all beauty so easily and naturally exists, to teach me
indeed, that the glory of all good belongs to Him alone, and that He is
jealous of our decking ourselves with His jewels."

In 1820, she first spoke as a minister, in reference to which she writes:
3rd Month, 1820, "Had felt for some time, and particularly lately, a warm
concern for the interest of our family, which to my humiliation,
surprise, and consolation, I was strengthened to express to them in a
private opportunity, before I left Sunderland.  On our ride home, I felt
the candle of the Lord shine round about me, in a manner I had not done
for years, accompanied with much tenderness and some foreboding fears.  I
felt I had put my hand to the plough, and I must not turn back, but I
remembered the days that were past, and I knew something of the power of
Him in whom I had believed; though fear often compassed me about, and too
much imagination."

1820.  "My heart has burned as an oven, internal and external
supplication has not been wanting to ease it; may I endure the burnings
as I ought."  Speaking of attending the Yearly Meeting soon after, she
says: "I saw many dangerous enemies of my own heart near me, yet was
there mercifully preserved a germ of truth, in which met the hearts of
the faithful, and which was an encouragement to me; I afterwards spoke
twice in the Yearly Meeting, and the composure at the moment, and after a
time the peace that ensued, seemed to assure me that I had not run
without being sent.  The remembrance of former days came strongly before
me, and in thus again publicly manifesting the intent of my heart, I felt
the comfort of being no stranger to that Hand, which, as it once fed me
with milk, seemed to me now after a long night season, feeding me with
meat."

After her return home, she writes: "Opened my mouth in Darlington
meeting, on First-day afternoon.  A mountain in prospect!  The meetings
now became very interesting to me, and as the reward of what I was
induced to believe was faithfulness, often greatly refreshing."

In the course of this year, she lost her eldest son, a child of great
promise, and the suffering attendant upon this deep sorrow, in addition
to close mental baptism, at times greatly prostrated her physical powers.

11th Month 4th, 1820, we find the following-memorandum: "'Oh how great is
Thy goodness which Thou hast laid up for them that fear Thee, which Thou
hast wrought for them that trust in Thee before the sons of men.'  In
looking back to the last two or three months, I feel I may adopt this
language: in them I have known the greatest portion of suffering that it
has yet been my lot to taste."

3rd Month, 1822.  She writes, "In the afternoon meeting, a subject seemed
so clear before me, that I ventured to speak; but oh! the evil of my
heart, the consciousness of having, or supposing I had, chosen my words
well, was like the fly in the ointment of the apothecary, the baneful
effects of which, I felt many days after.  The more I see of my own mind,
the more may the breathing of my soul be,--'If Thou wilt, Thou canst make
me clean.'  Sometimes to believe that it is His will, is sweet to me, but
we must maintain the fight, for though the victory is His, the fall is
ours."

"The constant and deep consideration for others in the most minute
actions of life, how I love it, and feel myself 'as a bullock
unaccustomed to the yoke.'"

5th Month, 6th, 1822.  "Days and nights of much spiritual conflict, or
rather perhaps the sight that there was much to conflict with; weak in
body and weak in mind!  In my ministry more patient and deep deliberation
wanting.  Last night, believed I had not kept close enough to my Guide in
prayer, with which I felt some distress,--perhaps not altogether
wrong,--but had not stopped when I ought, nor waited at every moment for
clearness and strength in the exercise; I hope I shall not hurt others."

6th Month, 1822.  "A month is now passed in which I have been sweetly
enabled to enjoy the love of God in my heart.  I trust we shall
experience preservation, though we may well fear for ourselves, and be
the subject of fear for others.  Oh! that, without affectation, we may
live deeply in the root of life!"

4th Month, 1823.  "I have much to bind me to this earth, but perhaps more
power of gratefully enjoying its blessings is wanted, and may be in store
for me before I leave it; some minds seem deeply anchored in the truth,
meekly and patiently bearing the trials of the day, with firmer faith and
greater purity, but each heart alone knows its own bitterness, and I
believe there is never much attainment without much suffering;--a
chastened habit of thought, how desirable to be the habit of early life!
riches and indulgences how inimical to it!"

4th Month, 1825.  "My mind enjoyed a liberty, and something of the light
of the glorious gospel, a state which I often pant after, and am so
generally a stranger to; in each day a religious engagement seemed
peculiarly blessed to myself.  A sense of being liked and loved, is
gratifying; at the same time I acknowledge, it has its dangers; it is,
however, a stimulus to do good and to communicate."

4th Month, 25th.  "A poor body, and a weak restless mind!  How the sword
does wear the scabbard! but this world is not to be our paradise; perhaps
I lose some little strength in striving to make it so.  Oh! my God, have
pity upon me; thou alone canst know how much I suffer;--if my children
ail anything, what it costs me."

In 1826, she visited the families of Friends in Darlington Monthly
Meeting, in company with Isaac Stephenson; and in allusion to this
engagement, she writes: "Entered last week on a visit, with I.
Stephenson, to the families of this Monthly Meeting.  Ministry is surely
a gift! may the vessel be purified by using it in faith."

3rd Month, 1826.  "After many cogitations and some provings of faith, I
went with Isaac Stephenson to Manchester, Lancaster, and Leeds: I felt it
like leaving all to follow what I believed to be my divine Guide; it cost
me some heart-sinkings and tears, but my mind was sweetly preserved in
peace and confidence; and, though I had times of depression and fear to
pass through, I have been thankful that I made the sacrifice.  It has
endeared me to many individuals; and at times, in the undoubted belief
that it was a divine requiring, it has strengthened my faith, and excited
some degree of thankfulness for being so employed."

4th Month, 16th.  "A sweet day of rest and peace, such as I do not
remember to have known for years."

4th Month, 18th.  "Monthly Meeting one of perplexity and fear, Oh! for
dwelling deep and lying low! and waiting in quietness for the 'little
cloud!' but it seems as if my faith were to be tried by things coming
unexpectedly upon me, and to be humbled by feeling ill prepared."

From this time she went on advancing rapidly in the work of the ministry:
her truly catholic spirit expanded in love to her fellow-creatures; the
inmates of the palace as well as those of the prison, shared alike her
Christian zeal and interest.  Her naturally powerful and refined mind,
deeply instructed in the things of God, rendered her peculiarly fitted to
labour amongst those, who being invested with wealth and influence, she
regarded as stewards, deeply responsible for the right occupation of
their various gifts: with many of these, in the upper classes of society,
she sought and obtained opportunities for conveying religious counsel;
and in not a few instances there was a deep response in the hearts of her
hearers, to the truths which she had to proclaim.

The public meetings which she held were very numerous,--many of them very
remarkable.  Her fervour in seeking to arouse to a sense of their
condition, those who were "dead in trespasses and sins,"--her sound and
convincing arguments, in controverting the views of the infidel,--her
zeal against the lukewarm professor, and her earnest affectionate
invitations to the humble believer in Jesus, to "lay aside every weight,"
and partake, in all their fulness, of the blessings purchased for them by
the dear Son of God; will long be remembered by those who felt the truth
and unction of her appeals.  She dwelt upon the glorious scheme of
redemption, through the propitiatory sacrifice of Christ Jesus upon the
cross, for the sins of the whole world; and of the absolute necessity of
sanctification of spirit, through the effectual operation of divine grace
on the heart, as one, who had herself largely participated, in the
blessings and mercies of her God.  She was, however, no stranger to deep
mental conflicts, both in the prosecution of her religious labours, and
in the more retired sphere of domestic life, as some of her memoranda
show.

In 1827, after visiting with her husband, the counties of Devon and
Cornwall, an engagement which occupied them nearly two months, and
included a visit to the Scilly Isles, she writes:--

7th Month, 1827.  "I felt it a day of favour when we gave in our account
at the Monthly Meeting, the third day after our arrival at home, but in
returning from this journey, I have been made remarkably sensible, that
the business of religion is the business of the day, and that the
exercises and strength of any past day, are but as nothing for the day
that is passing over us; and many of these days have been passed in much
mental conflict, and much bodily weakness and languor."

1828.  "Many, and many have been my fears, lest the good things that
others may see us surrounded with, should be as a stumbling block leading
to covetousness; how hardly shall they that have riches lead the life of
a humble follower of the dear Redeemer!  These thoughts often beset me,
and sometimes make me fear, if ever I have a right to open my mouth to
advocate His cause."

"I could wish I had a heart, a head, and a mind fit for all I could
embrace, but that may never be: however, altogether my mind has been of
late, less covered with clouds than it used to be, and my health revives
with it.  'What shall I render for all thy benefits?' may well be the
language of my soul."

In 1829 she was again joined by her dear husband in a visit to Ireland;
after which she writes:--

10th Month, 1829.  "We passed through many deep baptisms, many sinks both
of body and mind, and in the course of three or four months, attended all
the particular meetings; I think we did too much in the time to do it as
well as we might; there was much exercise of faith, but patience had not
its perfect work:--may my daily prayer be for patience, and the daily
close exercise of my spirit to obtain it; for want of it, I get into many
perplexities, that might be avoided; yet with all the omissions and
commissions that I can look back upon with shame, I can number this
journey among the many mercies of my life, being at times in it,
introduced into a more soul-satisfying state than I had perhaps ever
known before, and I was never more fully persuaded that we were
commissioned to preach the gospel.  The company of my dear husband was
truly a comfort and support, as well as very endearing, and this journey
has enlarged my heart in love to hundreds, and has written many epistles
there, which I trust may never be blotted out."

In 1830, she laid before her Monthly Meeting, a prospect of going to
America.  This concern was cordially united with, and she and her husband
were liberated for the service in that land.  In reference to this very
weighty engagement, she thus writes to her dear cousin, Elizabeth Fry:--

   Darlington, 2nd Month, 4th, 1830.

   "My dearest Betsy,

   I believe some of thy tenderest sympathies will be aroused, on hearing
   of the momentous prospect now before us of visiting North America.  I
   dare say many, many years ago, thy imagination sent me there,--call it
   by that name, or the more orthodox one of faith,--so has mine, but I
   saw it without baptism; now, I pass into it under baptism, which in
   depth far exceeds any thing I have known before; the severing work it
   is to the ties of nature, to my dear Father, Mother, and Children,
   breaks me all to pieces, but I have much, if not entirely, been spared
   from doubts; all I seem to have had to do was to submit; this is a
   great comfort, for which I desire to be thankful, and for that peace
   which in the midst of deep suffering has so far rested upon it.

   Thy very affectionate
   H. C. BACKHOUSE."

Her labours in America were very abundant, and there is reason to
believe, blessed to very many.  During the five years she spent on that
Continent, she visited the greater part of the meetings of Friends, and
in doing so, shrank from no hardship or privation consequent upon
travelling in districts recently settled.

In 1833, Jonathan Backhouse thus writes of her labours--

"I do think my wife's labours in these parts, have been of essential
service;--helped some sunken ones out of a pit, strengthened some weak
hands, and confirmed some wavering ones, as well as comforted the
mourners.  She has no cause to be discouraged about her labours, they
have been blessed."

Her husband thinking it desirable to return for a while to England,
Hannah C. Backhouse was provided with a most faithful valuable companion
in Eliza P. Kirkbride, and for her as well as for many other beloved
friends to whom she had become closely united in America, she retained a
warm interest and affection to the close of her life.

In 1835, they returned to England, and in the bosom of her beloved family
and friends, great was, for a time, her domestic happiness.  But home
endearments were not permitted to interfere with her devotion to Him, to
do whose will, was not only her highest aim, but her chief delight: and
whenever the Lord's call was heard, she was ready to obey.  Many parts of
England, and Scotland were visited between this time and 1845.  During
this interval some of her nearest domestic ties were broken; her eldest
surviving son, an engaging youth of seventeen, her beloved husband, and a
precious daughter, the wife of John Hodgkin, of Tottenham, were all
summoned to their eternal home: whilst under the pressure of sorrow
occasioned by the removal of Ann Hodgkin, the following letter was
penned:--

   Tottenham, 12th Month, 9th, 1845.

   "My losses have been many and great, but the greatness of this, I am
   increasingly coming into the apprehension of.  She was lovely in her
   life, and in death may we not be divided! or _by_ death, but may her
   sweet spirit be very near in my remembrance, to the end of my days,
   and then may I join Father and Mother, Brothers and Sisters, Husband
   and Children,--how many of the nearest ties now, we trust, in heaven,
   and how few on earth comparatively.  On this subject I cannot now
   dwell,--when I can view her free from all weakness, corruption, and
   suffering, in the enjoyment of _that_ rest, she knew so well how to
   appreciate, I could smile with a joyful sorrow; but few of such
   moments have been given; in general a patient bearing of the present
   moment, is the most we have arrived at, under the blessed unmoved
   confidence that all is well.

   Your very affectionate sister,
   H. C. BACKHOUSE."

From this time a cessation from labour was granted, and after having thus
devoted the meridian of her life to the service of her Lord, she was
permitted for some years previous to her decease, to enjoy a season of
almost uninterrupted repose.  Love, meekness, gentleness, and peace were
eminently the clothing of her spirit; and like Moses viewing from the
Mount the Promised Land, she seemed almost to live above the trials and
temptations of time; nothing appeared materially to disturb or ruffle the
repose of her soul, deeply centred in God.  Her ministry was often
strikingly beautiful and impressive, especially exhorting to unreserved
dedication, and dwelling on the glories of the heavenly kingdom.

During the latter part of 1849, her health, which had long been delicate,
began increasingly to give way; at the end of the 3rd Month of 1850, she
was seized with alarming illness, from which little hope was entertained
of her recovery; from this she so far rallied as to leave her bed-room,
and go into an adjoining sitting-room, but never was able to go down
stairs.  It was evident her strength was very small, but no immediate
danger was at this time apprehended.  She was at times, cheerful, always
tranquil and full of repose, and able to enjoy the company of those
immediately around her; at other times illness oppressed her, and
prevented the power for much exertion of mind or communication of
thought.  But words were not needed to declare her faith or her love,
when through having faithfully occupied with the grace that had been
given to her, her whole life might almost be said to have been one act of
dedication to God.

On the night of the 5th of Fifth Month, increased illness came on, she
continued conscious almost to the last, and alluded with perfect calmness
to the fresh symptoms of danger.  On her sister remarking to her, that
"though it was a dark valley, it would soon be all joy to her," she
responded by a beautiful smile, but power of articulation soon failed,
and on the morning of the 6th of Fifth Month, 1850, she most gently
expired.

We cannot close this account more appropriately than in the language of a
dear friend who had long known and loved her.

"A character of such rare excellence, such singleness of purpose, such
true devotedness, in which the intellectual and the spiritual were so
well balanced, and well developed together:--a character in which, with
all the occasional undulations and agitations of the surface, there was
such a deep, such a clear, such a calm and steady under-current of
sterling piety, of unwavering attachment to the cause of our God and of
his Christ, of close adherence to the leadings of his Spirit, and strong
desire to do his will;--a character in which the woman, the Christian,
and the Quaker were so fused into one, did truly adorn the doctrine of
God her Saviour.  It was conspicuous that by the grace of God she was
what she was; though nature had done much, grace had done much more, and
it was evident that she humbly felt that she was not her own, that she
was bought with a price; that amidst all that surrounded her of the
perishing things of time, she did not live unto herself, but unto Him who
died for her and rose again, who was her Alpha and Omega, her all in all.
In our little and afflicted church, the loss is great: she was one of our
stakes, and one of our cords!  The stake is removed, the cord is broken,
but our God abideth for ever."



A SKETCH OF THE LIFE AND LABOURS OF PATRICK,
The Apostle of the Irish.


We think it will be agreeable to our readers, that we should occupy a few
vacant pages, by the following lively particulars respecting "Patrick,
the Apostle of the Irish."  They are extracted from a work lately
published, under the title of, "Light in Dark Places; or Memorials of
Christian Life in the Middle Ages," which is stated, in the preface, to
be translated from a German work by the late Augustus Neander.  Patrick
flourished in the early part of the fifth century, before the Romish yoke
was imposed upon the British churches, but not before much superstition
had become mixed with the purity of the Christian faith.

His early circumstances seem, however, to have entirely detached him from
dependence upon man, and to have driven him to the One great Source of
light and strength.  Romanists have a story of his having gone to Rome,
and having received there his authority as the first bishop of Ireland;
but it is evident that his _call_ to preach the gospel to the Irish, was
not of man, or from man, but immediately from God, who inspired him with
holy faith and courage, and in a most remarkable manner prospered his
labours.

* * * * *

This remarkable man was prepared, by very peculiar circumstances, for his
important work; and in his instance, also, it may be seen, how that
infinite wisdom which guides the development of the kingdom of God
amongst men, is able to bring great things out of what seems
insignificant to the eyes of men.

Patrick, called in his native tongue Succath, was born A.D. 372, between
the Scottish towns of Dumbarton and Glasgow, (then appended to England,)
in the village of Bonaven, since named in honour of him, Kilpatrick.  He
was the son of a poor unlettered deacon of the village church.  No
particular care was bestowed on his education, and he lived on
light-heartedly, from day to day, without making the religious truths
taught him by his parents matters of personal interest, until his
seventeenth year.

Then, it happened that he was awakened by a severe chastisement from his
Heavenly Father from this sleep of death to a higher life.  Some pirates
of the wild tribe of the Scots, who then inhabited Ireland, landed at the
dwelling-place of Patrick, and carried him off with other captives.  He
was sold into slavery to a Scottish prince, who committed to him the care
of his flocks and herds.  Necessity directed his heart to that God of
whom, in his days of rest in his father's house, he had not thought.
Abandoned of men, he found consolation and blessedness in Him, and now
first learned to perceive and enjoy the treasures which the Christian has
in heaven.  Whilst he roamed about with his flocks, through ice and snow,
communion with his God in prayer, and quiet contemplation, were his
portion.  Let us hear how he himself, in a confession which he
subsequently wrote, describes this change which took place in him.

"I was about sixteen years old, and knew nothing of the true God, when I
was led into captivity with many thousands of my countrymen, as we
deserved, in that we had departed from God, and had not kept his
commandments.  There God opened my unbelieving heart, so that I, although
late, remembered my sins, and turned with my whole heart to the Lord my
God, to Him who had regarded my loneliness, had had compassion on my
youth and my ignorance, and had watched over me before I knew him; who,
ere I knew how to choose between good and evil, had guarded and cherished
me, as a father doth his son.  This I know assuredly, that before God
humbled me, I was like a stone lying sunk in deep mire; but He who is
able came, He raised me in his mercy, and set me on a very high place.
Therefore must I loudly bear witness to this, in order, in some measure,
to repay the Lord for such great blessings in time and eternity, great
beyond the apprehension of human reason.  "When I came to Ireland," he
says, "and used daily to keep the cattle, and often every day to pray,
the fear and the love of God were ever more and more enkindled in me, and
my faith increased, so that, in one day, I spoke a hundred times in
prayer, and in the night almost as often; and even when I passed the
night on the mountains, or in the forest, amid snow and ice and rain, I
would awake before daybreak to pray.  And I felt no discomfort, there was
then no sloth in me, such as I find in my heart now, for then the Spirit
glowed within me."

After he had passed six years in the service of this prince, he thought
he heard a voice in his sleep which promised him a speedy return to his
native land, and soon afterwards announced to him that a ship was already
prepared to take him.  In reliance on this call, he set out, and after a
journey of many days, he found a ship about to set sail.  But the captain
would not, at first, receive the poor unknown youth.  Patrick fell on his
knees and prayed.  He had not finished his prayer before one of the
ship's company called him back, and offered him a passage.  After a
wearisome voyage, in which he experienced, from the grace which guided
him, many a deliverance from great peril, and many a memorable answer to
prayer, he arrived once more amongst his people.

Many years after this, he was again carried off by pirates.  But, in
sixteen days, by the special guidance of Providence, he regained his
freedom, and again returned, after many fresh perils and fatigues, to his
people.  Great was the joy of his parents to see their son again after so
many perils, and they entreated him thenceforth to remain with them
always.  But Patrick felt an irresistible call to carry to the people
amongst whom he had passed the years of his youth, and amongst whom he
had been born again to the heavenly life, the tidings of that salvation
which had been imparted to him by Divine grace, whilst amongst them.  As
the apostle Paul was by the Lord called, in a nocturnal vision, to carry
to the people of Macedonia the first tidings of salvation, so there
appeared to Patrick one night, in a vision, a man from Ireland with many
letters.  He gave him one, and Patrick read the first words, "The words
of the Irish."  And as he read these words, he thought he heard the
simultaneous cry of many Irish tribes dwelling by the sea, "We pray thee,
child of God, come and dwell once more amongst us."  He could not read
further, from the agitation of his heart, and awoke.

Another night he thought he heard in a dream a heavenly voice, whose last
words only were intelligible to him, namely, these words,--"He who gave
his life for thee, speaks in thee."  And he awoke full of joy.  One night
it seemed to him as if something that was in him, and yet above him, and
was not himself, prayed with deep sighings, and at the end of the prayer
it spoke, as if it were the Spirit of God himself.  And he awoke, and
remembered the expressive words of the apostle Paul, concerning the
inward communion of the children of God with his Spirit, "The Spirit
itself helpeth our infirmities.  For we know not what we should pray for
as we ought, but the Spirit itself maketh intercession for us with
groanings that cannot be uttered."  And in Romans viii.  24 "Christ which
also maketh intercession for us."

As the Almighty Shepherd of souls does not draw all to himself by the
same means, nor guide and nourish them alike; but, on the contrary
reveals and communicates himself to them in divers manners, according to
his various purposes for them, and their various wants; it pleased Him to
grant Patrick, by many manifestations of his grace, the pledge of the
certainty of his fellowship with Himself, and of his call to preach the
Gospel in Ireland.  His parents and friends sought to hold him back,
representing to him that such an undertaking far exceeded his capacity.
He himself informs us of this, when he says: "Many dissuaded me from this
journey, and said behind my back, 'Why does this man throw himself into
danger, amongst the heathen who do not know the Lord?'  It was not said
maliciously, but they could not comprehend the thing on account of my
rustic life and manners."  But nothing could mislead him, for he trusted
in the power of the Lord, who imparted to him the inward confidence that
He had called him, and was with him.  He himself says of this: "Whence
came to me so great and blessed a gift, that I should know and love God,
and be able to forsake my country and my kindred, although large gifts
were offered me, with many tears, if I would remain?  And against my will
I was compelled to offend many of my kindred and my well-wishers.  But by
God's guidance, I yielded not to them; it was not my own power, it was
God who triumphed in me, and resisted them all, so that I went amongst
the people of Ireland to preach to them this Gospel, prepared to suffer
much contempt from the unbelieving, and many persecutions, even to
chains; and, if needful, to sacrifice my freedom for the good of others.
And if I am counted worthy, I am ready also to lay down my life with joy
for His name's sake."

Patrick, accordingly, went to Ireland, in the year 431.  He could now
make use of his early proficiency in the Irish language.  He gathered
great multitudes of the people together in the open air, by beat of drum,
to tell them of the sufferings of the Saviour for sinful men; and the
doctrine of the cross manifested its characteristic power over many
hearts.  Patrick met indeed with much opposition.  The priests and
national bards, who possessed great influence, excited the people against
him, and he had to endure many a hot persecution.  But he overcame by his
steadfastness in the faith, by his fervent zeal, and by a love which drew
all hearts to itself.  Patrick addressed himself especially to the chiefs
and princes of the people.  They could do the most mischief, if they were
excited by the Druids against the strange religion; and, on the other
hand, if they received the Gospel, they might make their people more
accessible, and form a counterbalance to the influence of the Druids.

Patrick took the part of servants who had suffered hard usage from their
masters.  When he found youths of the lower ranks, who seemed to him
fitted for a higher calling, he provided for their education, and trained
them to be teachers of the people.

He had, from his youth, as we have seen, experienced the especial
guidance of the Lord, and his heart was penetrated by it.  Now, whilst he
laboured in the fervour and power of faith, he was able to produce
effects on the rude minds of the Irish, such as never could have been
produced by ordinary human power.  He saw himself, moreover, sustained by
the peculiar direction of that God whose word he preached.  Patrick
speaks of it, not in spiritual pride, but full of the sense of his
unworthiness and impotence, as well as of the consciousness of the grace
working in and through him.

After speaking, in one of his letters, of such marvels as God granted him
to perform amongst the barbarous people, he added: "But I conjure all,
let no one, on account of these or the like things, think to place me on
an equality with the Apostles and other perfect men; for I am an
insignificant, sinful, and despicable man."  And more marvellous to him
than the miracles which were wrought by him, was the simple fact which
filled his whole soul, that by him who, until God drew his soul to
Himself by severe chastisement, had himself cared so little about his own
salvation, many thousands of the people, who had hitherto known nothing
of the true God, should be brought to salvation.  "Marvel," he says, "ye
who fear God, small and great, and ye eloquent talkers, who know nothing
of the Lord, inquire and acknowledge who it is that has awakened me, a
simple man, from the midst of those who are accounted wise, learned, and
mighty, in word and in deed.  For I, who was abandoned beyond many others
in the world; even I, in spite of all this, have been called by his
Spirit, that in fear and trembling, yet faithfully and blamelessly, I
should serve the people to whom the love of Christ has led me.
Unweariedly must I thank my God, who has kept me faithful in the day of
temptation, so that I can this day trustfully offer my soul as a living
sacrifice of thanksgiving to my Lord Christ, who has delivered me out of
all my afflictions, so that I must also say, Who am I, Lord? and what is
my calling? that thou hast so gloriously revealed to me thy Godhead, that
I can now constantly rejoice amongst the heathen, and glorify Thy name
wherever I may be, not only in prosperity, but also in adversity; so that
whatever may befall me, good or evil, I can calmly receive it, and
continually thank that God who has taught me to believe in Him as the
only true God."

Patrick endeavoured to avoid all appearance of seeking his own gain or
glory.  A man who, according to the judgment of men, was not fitted to
effect such great things, who from obscurity and poverty had been called
to so high a place, and in whom therefore, as is frequently the case,
those who had formerly known him after the flesh would not recognise what
the Spirit had accomplished, such a man was obliged, with all the more
circumspection, to avoid giving any occasion to those who were disposed
to declare a thing which they could neither measure nor comprehend by the
common standard, altogether beyond flesh and blood.  When many, full of
love and gratitude to the teacher of salvation, their spiritual father,
freely offered him gifts, and pious women offered their ornaments,
Patrick, although the donors were at first offended at it, in order to
avoid all evil report, declined everything.  He himself gave presents to
the heathen chiefs, in order thereby to purchase peace for himself and
his churches; he ransomed many Christians from captivity; and was himself
prepared, as a good shepherd, to lay down all, even to his life, for his
sheep.  In his confession of faith, which, after labouring for thirty
years in this calling, he addressed to his converts, he says: "That ye
may rejoice in me, and I may ever rejoice in you in the Lord, I repent
not what I have done, and even now it is not enough for me, I shall go
further and sacrifice much more.  The Lord is mighty to confirm me yet
more, that I may yield up my life for your souls.  I call God to witness
in my soul, that I have not written this to seek glory from you.  The
glory which is not seen, but believed on in the heart is enough for me.
Faithful is that God who hath promised, and he lieth not.  But already in
this world I behold myself exalted above measure by the Lord.  I know
very well that poverty and hardship suit me better than wealth and ease;
yea, even the Lord Christ became poor for our sakes.  Daily have I
expected to be seized, carried into captivity, or slain; but I fear none
of these things, because of the promises of heaven; for I have cast
myself into the arms of the Almighty God, who reigns everywhere, as it is
said in the Psalm, 'Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and he shall sustain
thee.'  Now I commend my soul to my faithful God, whom in my
insignificance I serve as his messenger.  For since with Him there is no
respect of persons, and since He has chosen me for this calling, that I
as one of the least of His people, should serve Him, what shall I render
unto the Lord for all his benefits?  What shall I say or promise unto my
Lord?  For I can do nothing, unless He himself give it me!  But He trieth
the hearts and reins, and He knoweth how greatly I long that He may give
me to drink of the cup of His sufferings, as He has granted to others who
love Him.  I pray God that He may give me perseverance, and enable me to
bear a faithful witness until my departure.  And if I have striven after
anything good for my God's sake, whom I love, I beseech Him that I, with
those my new converts who have fallen into captivity, may shed my blood
for his Name's sake, even though I should never be buried, even though my
body should be torn in pieces by wild beasts.  I believe firmly that if
this should befall me, I should gain my body as well as my soul; for
undoubtedly, in that day, we shall arise and shine like the sun, that is,
in the glory of our Redeemer, Jesus Christ, who is the Son of the living
God, as joint heirs with Christ, renewed in His image; for by Him,
through Him, and with Him shall we reign.  That sun which we see, rises
daily for us by God's command; but it will never reign, and its
brightness will not last for ever.  All those also who worship it will
(unhappy ones!) draw down punishment on themselves.  But we pray in faith
to Christ, the _true Sun_, that will never set, and he also who doeth His
will shall never set, but shall live for ever, as Christ lives for ever,
and reigns with God, the Almighty Father, and the Holy Spirit, from
everlasting to everlasting."

Patrick would gladly, after the absence and labours of many years, have
once more visited his relations and his old friends in his native Britain
and in Gaul, but he sacrificed his inclination to the higher calling.  "I
would gladly," he says, "have journeyed to my fatherland and my parents,
and also once more have visited my brethren in Gaul, that I might have
seen again the countenances of the saints of my Lord; God knows I longed
for it much, but I am restrained by the Spirit, who witnesseth to me,
that if I do this, He will hold me guilty, and I fear lest the work I
have commenced should fall to the ground."



TABLE


_Shewing the Deaths, at different Ages, in the Society of Friends in
Great Britain and Ireland, during the years _1847-48, and 1848-49, 1849-
50.

AGE.   YEAR 1847-48.        YEAR 1848-49.        YEAR   1849-50.
       Male. Female. Total. Male. Female. Total. Male. Female. Total.
Under
1 year   13     10     23    14    10      24     5       8      13
{129}
Under
5 years  22     23     45    20    17      37     8      11      19
From 5
years
to 10     7      9     16     4     4       8     2       6       8
From 10
to 15     7      7     14     3     3       6     0       2       2
From 15
to 20     7     13     20     9    10      19     2       7       9
From 20
to 30    13     16     29    13    13      26     9       6      15
From 30
to 40     6     13     19    11    19      30     6      12      18
From 40
to 50    13     15     28    10    24      34     9      14      23
From 50
to 60    14     12     26     9    25      34    12      17      29
From 60
to 70    23     25     48    29    37      66    21      30      51
From 70
to 80    28     58     86    24    44      68    33      40      73
From 80
to 90    21     26     47    16    33      49    22      22      44
From 90
to 100    3      6      9     4     8      12     2       4       6
All
ages    164    223   387    152   237     389   131     179     310



Footnotes:

{2}  See Memoir at the end of the Obituary.

{129}  The numbers in this series are included in the text, "under 5
years."

Average age in 1847-48, 48 years, 11 months, and 25 days.

Average age in 1848-49, 51 years, 3 months, and 22 days.

Average age in 1849-50, 54 years, and 9 months.





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