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.