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had I been faithful. Language is wanting to set forth the ardency of my desire on your accounts and your tender offspring."

H. C. coming in, had a favored religious opportunity, expressing the encouraging language, lift up thy head in hope. Nicholas Wain also j came in and revived the declaration of the apostle, "I have fought the good fight,' &c, I henceforth there is a crown laid up for me, and j not for me only, but for all those who love the appearance of our Lord Jesus Christ; adding his belief, that she had loved his appearance, and j that a crown of righteousness was in store for; her. After a short pause, she spoke nearly as 1 follows : " I have loved his appearance, and had I been faithful and obedient, I should have been ranked among a different class, but because of unfaithfulness, I have had to go mourning as with my hands on my loins, though I have been followed and mercifully cared for from year to year all my life long to this time, so that I can now sing on the banks of deliverance. I have had, because of disobedience, to travel as in a desert, barren land, seeking water, but finding neither pool nor spring, until in gracious condescension my heavenly Father was pleased to lift up again the light of his countenance upon me, so that I have to testify of his mercies and entreat my near connections, particularly the younger branches of my family, to give up all that is called for, and esteem nothing of value, in comparison with the answer of " Well done." H. C. in her testimony expressed a clear prospect of her being nearly arrived at the haven of everlasting rest. Tbe parting or taking leave in this solemn manner of the two friends, between whom there had long subsisted a near friendship, was deeply affecting. H. C. then leaning down on her bed, was thus addressed by her.

"Oh, my dear, I am now very low, but I have been comforted by this visit. What might I have been had I yielded timely to the unfoldings of duty. The prayer of my heart on this bed hath been, that all my near connections may be found faithful to every manifestation of duty, whether great or small; then will sweet peace be theirs. And now my dear Hannah, who hast long been made near to me, let me desire thee to come up in greater dedication than thou hast yet done. Thou art favored with a precious gift, be willing to occupy it in any way our heav enly Father requires; and now let me say, I have had a very close and deep conflict, but at length I have a glimpse—a glimpse"—further utterance then failed.

To her brother Thomas, on his coming in and enquiring if she felt relieved in body, she spake as follows: "I feel revived, but do not know that it is for the best. I am desirous of going to rest; perhaps I am impatient, but I am thankful I am relieved and more at ease than I have been." Soon after she added, "I desire to be

laid out in a plain way, let my coffin be walnut; and three inches deeper than usual. I would uot have a shroud, but a white petticoat and a s^iortgown. Let my body be kept as long as convenient; I request my body may be interred from my brother Samuel's, my late father's house, where I have spent most of my days; let it be placed in the same room where my father's and mother's both were, and remain there a few days." She also this afternoon called foralistin her own hand writing, concerning the distribution of her household goods, clothes, &c., which being read to her, she approved it and requested several insertions to be made therein, in as clear a manner as if she had been in perfect health.

(To be continued.)

Another cause of the growing disobedience and the want of filial reverence in the midst of us, \sparental vanity. I mean that feeling which prompts parents to make a display of their children, to show off their dawning intelligence, or wit, or excellence, by saying things to draw them out, or by repeating in their presence what they may have said. All this is in itself very trivial; it is but the natural, innocent outflow of affection, you may say, and yet nevertheless it has a powerful effect in moulding the temper, and bearing, and character of children. It tends most inevitably to make them flippant, and conceited, and arrogant, and self-willed. And parents who have found great amusement in these displays do discover, when it is too late, that they have erred—they find that the children take advantage of their accredited cleverness; they become impertinent; and how can they be checked at fourteen or fifteen for what was thought very interesting when they were four or five? Many persons, you know, say that it is the misery of man to learn only when it is too late to profit by it; that the lessons of experience are really understood only when experience is at an end. And, iudoed, this would seem to be true of the great practical theme now in hand. When our children are grown, theo, seeing the mistakes we have made, either on the one hand or the other—either in exacting too much or too little, either in making our children pert, by admiring them too much, or hurting their feelings by taking scarcely any notice of them at all—seeing this, we think we should act differently, could we live again through the years which are gone. Perhaps we might. We might, indeed, avoid some particular mistakes, and above all, this one of showing off the cleverness of our children. We do it thoughtlessly, to amuse our friends, perhaps to please ourselves, forgetting that the pleasures we derive are really serving to make our children disobedient and irreverent, to make them self-willed and impertinent.—E. Harwood.

(Continued from page 134.)

In resuming the extracts from the works of Thotrfas Story, I may observe, I have commenced with the beginning, and gone on regularly, closing the last essay with the sixth page of his Folio Journal, but as it has been considered too voluminous to be admitted entire into " Friends' Intelligencer," I propose making copious extracts, hoping our readers will follow him patiently through his early convincemeut.

In the year 1688, the prospect of a young Prince caused the most extravagant exultation among the people. Bonfires were made in market-places, and healths were drunk to the prospective Prince, but the extreme excitement (Thomas Story says,) " was no joyful sight to the thinking and concerned part of the Protestants who beheld it; and it brought such a concern upon my mind that I would not go near them."

The whole Protestant part of the King's dominions, except the temporizers, were in great consternation, apprehensive of a Popish Government, and consequent oppression and persecution. Nevertheless, out of fear, or other causes, the Bishops, as well as inferior clergy, and the people throughout the dominion, presented addresses to the King on this occasion, replete with expressions of loyalty and duty, and the pulpits generally resounded with the King-pleasing doctrine of passive obedience.

A solid consideration of the state of affairs, the doubtfulness and hazard of the issue, put me upon a more inward and close observation of persons and things than ever. And one day at the Assizes of Carlisle, dining at an inn, with a mixed company, where happened to be two of our Ministers of the Church of England, a Popish gentleman moved a debate, concerning transubstantiation, pretending to prove, by scripture, that, by certain words which the Priests say over a piece of bread, or wafer, there is a substantial conversion of it into the real body of Christ; the very same that was born of the Virgin Mary, crucified at Jerusalem, and now glorified in Heaven.

The text of scripture he advanced to support this position, was, "And as they were eating, Jesus took bread, and blessed it, and brake it, and gave it to the disciples, and said, take, eat, for this is my body," (Mark, xxvi. 26.) His argument was this, that Christ being the word of God, and the Truth, whatever he said must be positively and literally true; and therefore there is a real change of the bread into the true and real body of Christ; and this being an ordinance of God to his ministers, the same power is annexed to that ordinance; since, at the same time, he commanded them to do the same, saying, " this do in remembrance of me."

During this uninterrupted discourse, my zeal was kindled, so that I could scarce contain it.

But being young, and diffident of my own abilities, and paying regard and preference to our two ministers present, and expecting their appearance against so great an error, and so opposite to the Protestant religion, I delayed until it became almost unseasonable to engage him. But they minding their plates, and hanging down their heads, with their countenances veiled by their hats, and I seeing no sign of any answer from them to the Papist, I took him up upon the subject, thus:

Sir, you of the Church of Rome take these words literally; but we take the whole form of his speech at that time, on that subject, to be figurative, and that these words," This is my *lody," intended no more than, this bread is a symbol or figure, or representation of my body, which shall shortly hereafter be broken for you; for we ought not to divide the sentence or speech of Christ, and take one part literally and another figuratively. You may remember, at the same time, he also took the cup, saying, " this cup is the new testament, in my blood which is shed for you." Do you think, that cup, whether of gold, silver, glass or wood, was the new Testament? or can't you see, that in this latter part of his speech, there is a double figure 1 first, metonymy, the thing containing for the thing contained; and secondly, the wine in the cup, exhibited under the word cup as a figure, or representation of his blood; which was not then actually or literally shed, or his body broken, and seeing, he said, in the present tense, "this is my 1 body which is broken (not to be broken) for you; and this cup is the New Testament in my blood, which is (not which shall hereafter) be shed for you; you must either own that Christ advanced a false proposition, which you will not; or that he spake figuratively in both sentences; which you cannot reasonably avoid. If ever these words effected a transubstantiation, they would when Christ uttered them. Consider then that as soon as Christ began to speak these words, " This is my body," the body of Christ, born of the Virgin Mary, began to cease to j>e his body, and the bread began to convert into it; and that as soon as the words were finished, the body born of the Virgin altogether ceased to be what it was before; and by a new way of a corporeal transmigration, insinuated itself into the bread; which by the same degrees that the body of Christ ceased to be his body, commenced, grew and became his body; or else he had two bodies present with his disciples at the same time; and if they eat his body that evening, what body was that which was crucified the next day? and what blood was then shed, if, the night before, the disciples had drank the blood of Jesus? and where now is the same cup? if you have lost that, you have in your own sense lost the New Testament, and all you have therein. Now, Sir, if yon can persuade me and this company that a piece of bread is the body of Christ, and a cup of wine is his blood, then you may bid fair for our conversion, or rather perversion to your religion. But 'till you can do that, you cannot reasonably expect we should embrace so great absurdities." Upon this, several of the company laughed; and the Papist said, " these were great mysteries, and the subject copious and intricate, and could not at that time be fully prosecuted, but might be more largely discussed at some other convenient opportunity. I replied, then why did you move it? could you think we would all sit silent, to hear you propagate such notions, and make no opposition? And so the matter dropped. But though I had thus opposed him, he showed more respect to me afterwards than to any other of the company.

[To be continued.]



We have not received the printed minutes of Genesee Yearly Meeting, but the following particulars are gleaned from the letter of a friend in attendance.

The meeting of ministers and elders com-menced on the 13th of 6th month. A considerable number of Friends were in attendance from other Yearly Meetings, and it was an eminently favored opportunity. The Holy Spirit overshadowed the company assembled, under the feeling of which the meeting closed with one session.

On first day, the meeting at Farmington was largely attended. With many it was a humbling, contriting season. The messengers harmonized in their labors, and truth reigned over all.

The general meeting commenced as usual on Second day and closed its sessions on Fifth day morning. The concerns of Society were presented, and the meeting was favored to labor in harmony. Through the different sittings, the Master of assemblies condescended to meet with us, and put forth his hand to direct aright those who were humbly watching to know his will. The mourners in Zion were comforted, the feeble strengthened, the lukewarm aroused, and heavenly love descended upon the tender plants, like the morning dew and the latter rain.

We have on several occasions received notices relative to the history of Friends' Almanac.

The publication is, we think, yet in its infancy, inasmuch that a history of its coming into existence, and its life thus far, would not be of as much interest to all our readers as it may be at some future time—but for the continuation of its usefulness, we would suggest to the clerks of each of our Yearly Meetings on this continent, that they regularly furnish us with a copy of the extracts from their minutes; if printed, a printed copy; and if not printed, such parts as will furnish the publisher with an accurate account of what changes have been made in the times and places of holding all our meetings; also to notice particularly that the accounts published are correct; and if not, furnish a statement in accordance with the facts. As the time is now approaching when the work will go to press, we would esteem it a favor to have their communications at the earliest convenient date.

Died,—On first day morning tie 28th instant, Eliza, daughter of Thomas J. and Mary R. Husband, aged four years.

, On the 15th of 6th mo., Elizabeth WarringTon, wife of Simeon Warrington, of Upper Greenwich, N. .r.

, In Philadelphia on the 23d of 6th mo., William

White, aged 79 years, formerly of Gloucester county,

——, At her residence in Clarksborough, Gloucester county, N. J., on the 24th of 6th month, Sarah Reeves, aged 79 years.

, On the 21st of 6th mo., in the 42d year of

her age, Phebe, wife of Charles Satterthwait of Crosswicks, J., and daughter of Halliday and Jane Jackson, (dec.,) formerly of Darby, Pa.

Whilst enjoying life's richest blessings in the beautiful fulfilment of her appointed allotment of wife, mother, sister, and friend, her mission here has early ended, and joyfully did she retire from the busy cares of earth, to enter upon a higher existence, with a blessed assurance of happiness and peace evermore; cheering until the last, with words of comfort and consolation, her sorrowing husband and children under the prospect of their separation.

For Friends' Intelligencer.

The following letter from a lady in Marylandj to her son at school, will be of profit to your readers, especially to parents. It should be remarked that the young gentleman to whom the letter was addressed, after reading and thinking on its contents, declined learning to dance.

C. R. D.

My Sear Son,—I have received your letter, in which you request my views with regard to your taking dancing lessons, accompanied by one

from Mr. to your father, asking permission

to enroll your name as a pupil to a dancing master.

I feel myself placed in an embarrassed position. It has always been my fixed determination to gratify my children in all reasonable requests, and to furnish them with means for the acquisition of knowledge, and the acquirement of accomplishments, calculated to develop and improve every talent which their Creator has bestowed on them.

Study and close application to books are absolutely necessary to progress in knowledge, and the mind is so constituted that recreation and amusement are equally essential to its healthful developement. But of what character shall be the nature of the amusements? Man is not, as the beast thatperisheth, of ephemeral existence, but an immortal soul: you are only in the bud of being, with an undying spirit to be trained and disciplined for eternity. Our Bible tells us that the heart of man is deceitful and desperately wicked, that it must (if we would be truly happy) be changed by grace, and that this change to be obtained must be very diligently sought; it compares man to a racer, disciplining himself for a great goal, that he may obtain an incorruptible crown, and urges him to lay aside every weight, and so to run that he may obtain.

Now let us inquire, candidly, whether dancing [ may or may not be included in those weights we are called to lay aside. When I became your sponser in baptism, I solemnly vowed before God and man to renounce for you the pomps and vanities of life, and under what other designation than the last mentioned would even its most ardent votaries place dancing? What says the Book of books ?" Wo unto them that dance to the sound of the viol."

Dancing, merely as a bodily exercise, I consider harmless ; .but my judgment condemns it from its invariable accompaniments—lightness, frivolity, night revelling, balls, the intoxicating draught, improper dress, evil associations, and intense love of the world, all of which are expressly forbidden. I admit it may strengthen the muscles, but may not some gymnastic exorcise equally beneficial, but less harmless, be substituted? It may improve the carriage of some awkward persons, but your natural selfpossession, and the gotod society I hope you will be enabled to cultivate, with some effort on your own part, will give you all the ease and grace necessary for your position, without encountering the temptations to which learning to dance will inevitably expose you.

I am aware, from my experience, how natural it is to follow the example of those around us, without pausing to inquire whether we are right or wrong, and how strongly instinctive it is to throw the reins loose on our natural inclinations, forgetting the injunction of that wise man (which I wish you to commit to memory :) "Rejoice, 0 young man, in thy youth, and let thy heart cheer thee in the days of thy youth, and walk in the ways of thine heart and in the light of thine

eyes; but know thou that for all these things God will bring thee unto judgment." I will not arbitrarily dictate to you: I will not coerce your actions.

Having reminded you there is a period in man's history when you must render an account of all your actions to the great Judge, I leave you to decide for yourself. That your heavenly Father may so enlighten your mind that you may choose the right path, is my sinoere prayer.

For Friends' Intelligencer.

A notice of the death of Job Engle appeared in the "Intelligencer" of 6th mo. 13, but in my view it did not embrace all that might truly be said concerning him, calculated to stir up the pure mind by way of remembrance. When one, who has been greatly prese rved from the spirit of the world, the lusts of the flesh and the pride of life, has passed from earth to aheavenly home, I think a duty rests upon survivors to record some of the many virtues that made him honorable in life, and lovely in death.

Of this meek man it may truly be said, he was a kind husband, a tender parent, a firm and steady friend and a cheerful companion. His religion proceeded more from the heart than the head, and was based upon love to God and faith in his power, and it was exemplified in his love to man. He possessed a very tender spirit, and was desirous above every other consideration to keep a conscience void of offence. He was a diligent attender of our religious meetings both for worship and discipline; and as his object in thus meeting with his friends, was to wait upon the great Head of the Church, he felt as much bound to attend the email mid-week meetings, as those which were larger, and in silently and reverently waiting upon the Lord therein he was a bright example, and evidenced a deep concern for the advancement of truth and righteousness in the earth.

Those who knew him best, loved him most, and with these there is a blending of joy and sorrow in reviewing the life and death of this truly humble man. When we remember his warm-hearted friendship, his kind and generous hospitality, combined with his retiring and unassuming manner and loving disposition, the mind is naturally filled with sorrow under the reflection that we can no more take sweet counsel together. And on the other hand, when we consider he is safely landed " where the wicked cease from troubling and the weary are at rest," we feel there is cause for rejoicing.

The watch-tower seemed to be his abiding place, hence he was ready when the summons came; expressing, before he was laid by, his belief that his stay on earth would be short; and the day before he was taken sick, after walking around the house and garden with an impressive solemnity of manner and countenance, he laid down upon his bed, and observed, he felt ready to depart, desiring he might pass away as easily as his wife had, about three years previously. His request was fully granted, for he died without a groan or struggle, retaining his faculties until the last. On the approach of death he manifested no alarm, asked for a drink of water, and in a few minutes all was over, a heavenly expression settling upon his countenance, as though he had seen the gates of Heaven open to receive him, and realized a blessed prospect of immortality and eternal life. "Mark the perfect man and behold the upright, for the end of that man is peace." J. T.

For Friends' Intelligencer.
(Concluded from page 232.)

On completing his 70th year, Noah Worcester felt that it was time to relieve himself of some of his burdensome responsibilities, and seek more of that repose to which age invites. He accordingly resigned his office as Secretary of the Peace Society and discontinued the publication of the 'Friend of Peace.' It was not that he wished to cease from occupation, and abandon himself to repose. His mind was still active, and pursued with eagerness the enquiries in which he was interested.

Among the subjects which about this time occupied his* thoughts and pen were the commonly received doctrines of the atonement and original sin. His object was not to decide which of the many schemes of the atonement is to be received as scriptural and true; but to demonstrate that none can be true which does not found its efficacy in the love of God; that all notions of a vicarious or substituted punishment, of an operation on the divine mind whereby it was rendered placable by the satisfaction of blood, are auti-scriptural. This idea prevailed more and more in his mind as he advanced in years, and came to possess it with such strength, that he appears to have become unable to contemplate the common doctrine without shuddering, or to speak of it without involuntary horror. He more and more completely and habitually tried all religious views of the divine character and administration by the standard of the paternal relation, and his increasing filial piety shrunk from the thought of a vicarious atonement with growing abhorrence. "Is it not deeply to be lamented, that a doctrine has been long popular among Christians, which ascribes to God a disposition and character which no ruler nor parent can imitate without becoming odious in the view of well informed and benevolent men?"

His views on the subject of original sin were pervaded with the same fundamental idea. His central governing position from which all his reasoning proceeds, and by which his conclusions are tested, is the love of God, in his character

of Father. By the analogy of that beautiful relation, he tries all interpretations of doctrine, and holds that nothing can stand which militates against the benignity, tenderness, and justice of a Fatherly government. Hence, the tendency to sin in human nature cannot be owing to the blighting influence of divine displeasure entailing corruption on the race because offended with the progenitor; but it results from that lavish goodness of the Creator, which bestows in profusion faculties and bounties which are necessarily liable to abuse and open to temptation.

Noah Worcester's conscientiousness and patience in the search of truth was a prominent trait. He deeply felt his responsibility, and acted on the conviction that he was bound to get as much light as possible, and follow it without scruple wherever it should lead. In doing this he was eminently cautious to guard against self deception and hasty conclusions. He used the greatest deliberation of patient enquiry, turning the subject over and over, that he might be sure no important view escaped him, and that through oversight or precipitancy he might not delude himself or mislead others. In this he was a model for the imitation of all inquirers. He felt the responsibility of religious speculation to be solemn; he did not consider himself to have the moral right to run the risk of misleadingother minds by the publication of sentiments, however apparently true to his own mind, which had not been long diligently searched and confirmed by the most deliberate conviction and extensive inquiry. Thus while his whole life was a course of study and progress, he was no weathercock or chameleon. He mastered his subject before he published. In regard to those subjects in which he differed from his brethren, it is admirable to observe how the patient and scrupulous old man goes over the ground again and again, tenderly watches against error, and waits year after year before he divulges views which fill his own heart with peace, lest by any self delusion he should spread erroneous speculations calculated to mislead.

His fairness in stating, and ingenuousness in disoussion, are equally to be observed. He entered on argument not as an intellectual enterprise, or a trial of logical skill, but as a moral duty, in performing which he was subject to thelaws of honesty and truth, rather than of mere logic; and he would have regarded the disingenuousness, and perversion of an opponent's language, and misstatement of his meaning, and false inferences which often disgrace the annals of theological controversy, as no less dishonorable and dishonest than the concealments and unfair proceedings in commercial life, which are branded as frauds and punished by universal reprobation.

A few expressions have been collected which

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