Chapter II: Part 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

WILLIAM NEWSOM, _Limerick_. 62 6mo. 18 1850

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

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

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

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

MARY NICHOLSON, _Liverpool_. 78 12mo. 14 1849

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

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

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

RICHARD PATCHING, _Brighton_. 70 2mo. 15 1850

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

EMILY PIM, _Mountmelick_. 4 4mo. 5 1850

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

ELIZABETH PLUMLEY, _Tottenham_. 72 1mo. 10 1850

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

JOHN PRICHARD, _Leominster_. 86 5mo. 24 1850

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

_Jane Prideaux_, _Kingsbridge_.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ANN PUMPHREY, _Worcester_. 84 4mo. 22 1850

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

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

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

DEBORAH REYNOLDS, _Rochester_. 76 5mo. 4 1850

SARAH REYNOLDS, _Liverpool_. 68 5mo. 19 1850

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

WILLIAM RICHARDS, _Wellington_. 73 12mo. 19 1849

JOSIAH RICHARDSON, _Peckham_. 84 1mo. 8 1850

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

JOSEPH RUSSELL, _Cork_. 61 1mo. 14 1850

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

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

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

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

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

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

JOSEPH SEFTON, _Liverpool_. 66 12mo. 15 1849

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

GEORGE SHAW, _Clonmel_. 68 12mo. 22 1849

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

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

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

ALICE SILL, _Kendal_. 82 6mo. 1 1850

GEORGE SIMPSON, _Birkenhead_. 58 7mo. 5 1850

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

MARY SMITH, _Darlington_. 77 3mo. 2 1850

ABIGAIL SMITH, _Preston_. 70 5mo. 12 1850

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

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

JOHN SMITH, _Winchmorehill_. 77 7mo. 11 1850

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

SUSANNA STANILAND, _Hull_. 78 8mo. 26 1850

JAMES STEEVENS, _Basingstoke_. 59 2mo. 25 1850

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

WILLIAM TODHUNTER, _Dublin_. 46 1mo. 19 1850

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

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

CATHERINE TOMS, _Amersham_. 67 1mo. 8 1850

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

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

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

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

THOMAS WADDINGTON, _Penketh_. 49 9mo. 3 1850

JOHN WAITHMAN, _Yealand_. 49 11mo. 2 1849

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

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

BARBARA WALLER, _York_. 70 11mo. 13 1849

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

JOHN WALTON, _Southport_. 61 1mo. 7 1850

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

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

FERGUS WATSON, _Allonby_. 90 1mo. 21 1850

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

MARY WATSON, _Cockermouth_. 64 10mo 18 1849

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

JOSEPH WHEELER, _Birmingham_. 81 11mo. 21 1849

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

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

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

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

RICHARD WHITING, _Tottenham_. 84 7mo. 3 1850

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

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

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

WILLIAM WILSON, _Bradford_. 82 11mo. 23 1849

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

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

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

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

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

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

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