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and offonded Heaven. He strips his brother of all worth, of all nobleness; he excommunicates him from his reverence, from his affections, and takes npon his own head the guilt of a heavy malediction. Anger may be sinful; derisive ridicule certainly is so. Contempt is the blackest and the worst of all. But the passage involves a contrast as well as a climax: a contrast of the gospel to the law. The law took note of outward transgressions; the gospel, of the inward disposition. The law made criminal, injury to man's body, his property, or his name; but the gospel marked, with more solemn indignation, injustice to his soul, the denial of his spiritual claims, the violation of his spiritual rights.

Contempt, contempt of humanity in any form of man, is a great sin. This is the doctrine of Jesus. That man is of worth infinite and inefaffablc, is the spirit of his teaching, of his practice, of his life; the import of his mission, the significance of his passion and his death; and, therefore, to trample this worth in scorn, is to count the blood of the covenant an unholy thing; to commit one of the darkest offences known in the ethics of the gospel.

We may trace the guilt of contempt in the' evil of its temper. Of course, I do not speak, here, of that sense of unworthiness which we cannot help feeling for what is vile and degrading; I speak of that harsh disposition in which contempt is a habit or a principle. Thus considered, it is evil, and always evil. It cannot, for a moment, clothe itself with the vesture or appearance of an angel. It has the essence of a moral atheism; and of all atheisms this is the worst. If atheism of mere intellect be possible, it does not necessarily exclude some- broken aspirations. A speculative atheism is conceivable, our most distinguished medical men have declared which could recognize separate elements of ex- that intemperance is a disease, and that in order cellence, and separately appreciate them; and'

constitutes the deepest unworthiness. Until we have understood the capacities of a nature, we cannot measure its abuses; until we have fathomed its capability for excellence, we know little of its ruin in transgression. The malignity of sin is revealed only to the soul, when it has comprehended the divinity of goodness. But from such comprehension the spirit of contempt is excluded by the malediction of its own bitterness. Contempt has, therefore, no faculty of reverence. It has no sense of greatness, no sense of beauty; it has no faith in the spiritual, and no trust in the human; it believes not in the immutability of truth, it confides not in the omnipotence of right. It has, of consequence, neither saints nor heroes, neither martyrs nor patriots; but lives unfavored in the seolusion of its own dark and godless being.

[To be continued.]

THE POOR INEBRIATE—HIS ERROR AND HIS
CURE.

"Persuasive kindness will do more

Than bitterness or scorn."

A. petition is in circulation in Massachusetts, in favor of an Asylum for Inebriates. The object is to supply them with a home, wherein they shall receive such treatment as will restore them to soundness of health and sanity of mind, and also afford them such facilities as will render the Institution a self-supporting one for the now miserable victims of intemperance. This subject has been agitated again and again in various sections of the Union; and we believe that the time will come when every leading city and State will regard it as essential to have at least one Asylum of the kind referred to. Some of

though unhappily astray from a Supreme Object, has at least, in chaos, the substance of reverence and devotion. It may have ideals of beauty, of truth, of power, and of goodness j and, whilo it does not confess the personality of God, unconsciously, it may do honor to his attributes. But so it is not with moral atheism; and, practically, contempt leaves the heart without a God. It wants all the faculties which have affinity with the godlike.

Contempt has no faculty of admiration. It apprehends only inferiority and abasement; and apprehends them only with partiality and falsehood. It is unable to discern honorable and honest qualities visible and distinct, much less the claims of mere humanity when concealed by many obscurations. If, perchance, it must look on that which cannot be hidden, and acknowledge that which cannot be denied, it looks with no complacency, and it acknowledges with no affection. Presuming as it does, to spurn others, as unworthy, it is wholly ignorant of that which

to eradicate it wholly, it should be subjected to a peculiar treatment exactly as any other malady. In New-York, we believe, an Asylum of this character is now in successful operation. We have nothing of the kind, however, in Pennsylvania. Several efforts have been made by kind-hearted philanthropists, but thus far without success. Individuals who have been in the habit of paying much attention to the inmates of our almshouses and our prisons, state that both are peopled to a very considerable extent through the agency of intemperance—intemperance, too, which might be cured, if the proper means were applied to it. Many of the poor wretches who have become its victims, are not afforded an opportunity of reform. They are surrounded with all sorts of temptations, while they lack the moral courage to resist. When, too, they feel that they are degraded beings, that they have lost caste and character, and that the future of this life is comparatively hopeless to them, they are apt to despond and despair, and indulge in still more frightful excesses. They

hear no voice of sympathy and persuasion, there is no home or asylum for them, they are denounced as outcasts and criminals, and they are often treated accordingly. The infirmity is one that destroys both body and mind. It deadens the sensibilities, it brutalises the nature, and it renders beings, who otherwise are calm, moderate and gentle, little better than fiends. This is the case with persons in the higher conditions of life, and where character is involved, and education should exercise a moral influence. But, how much more deplorable must be the condition of the friendless, the indigent, the ignorant and the weak! The results in a great many cases are as we have already described—despondency, despair, indulgence, crime, disgrace and shame! And yet, as already intimated, intemperance is curable. Not perhaps in every instance, but in many. If this bo the fact, and such is the opinion of some of the most distinguished medical men of the day, asylums such as have been suggested in the Bay State should be regarded as ainoug the essentials of our social system. They could not but be attended with good. There are, moreover, many natures that yield before the first blow of adversity. They feel that the world is a blank to them, they caunot rally their energies, but sink into hopeless lethargy. It is such, moreover, that are peculiarly calculated to be won away by the vice of intemperance. They cannot resist its fascinations. They become gloomy and depressed in spirits, and they seek any excitement, scarcely knowing what they do. And when they awake to all the horrors of their situation, the result is, that they are contemned and despised, and thus driven, perhaps, to a repetition of the same error. To all such, an appropriate asylum would afford at once a means of escape and of restoration. They could fly from the demon of inebriety, place themselves beyond the reach of his influence, and in the course of a few days or a few weeks regain their moral tone or nerve, and be able once more to enter among their fellow-creatures, strengthened, fortified and masters of themselves. This mastery is, moreover, much more difficult to acquire than the thoughtless arc apt to imagine. It is especially so with the weak, the irritable, the impulsive and desponding. It is a rare thing for a victim of intemperance to be turned from the error of his way by violence and abuse. He must be dealt with kindly, gently, and even generously. But this course is seldom pursued. The vilest epithets are employed, and in many cases the bitterest imprecations are lavished upon him. The effect is to irritate, madden, to rouse the spirit of resistance, and thus to confirm rather than to cure. These are truths which are almost universally conceded. And yet they are not sufficiently acted upon. The father who sees his son led away by the temptations of gay society, and gradually imbibing a taste for strong

drink, has a duty of more than ordinary delicacy and responsibility to discharge. He should not denounce in a fit of passion, and leave the erring youth to pursue the downward course as fatally as ever; but he should endeavor to win by some counter-fascination—to inspire confidence and secure respect, not by tyranny and violence but by kindness and affection, mingled with agentle, yet significantreproof. And so with almost every phase in the life of a drunkard. Theinfirmity is a fearful one, but is curable by the proper means, and these means should be applied with the utmost care and assiduity. Asylums for the Inebriate are yet new institutions, comparatively speaking, but in a country like ours, so full of excitement, and with so many chances and changes in the business world, calculated to induce to despondency, and to lead to error, they seem to us entitled in an especial manner to the attention of the sympathetic and the philanthropic.— I'en n sylva n ia Jnqu irer.

PHILADELPHIA MARKETS. Flour Aitd Meal.—The unfavorable character of the late foreign news has had the effect of depressing the market. Mixed brands are offered IX $6 37 a 6 SO per barrel. Small sales of better brands for home consumption at $6 50 per bbl. Sales of extra and fancy brands at $7 00 a 7 50. There is very liitle export demand. Rye Flour is worth $4 00 per barrel. Corn Meal is dull, at $3 00 per bbl. Last sales of Buckwheat Meal at $2 50 a $2 75.

1>RCILDOUN BOARDING SCHOOL FOR GIRLS. i The twelfth session of this Institution will commence on the 19th of Second mo. next, and will continue twenty weeks. The usual branches comprising a thorough English education will tie taught, and scientific lectures illustrated by appropriate apparatus will be delivered. It is situated three miles soothwest of Coatesville, on the Philadelphia and Columbia Railroad, from which place pupils will be conveyed free of charge. For circulars address the Principal, F.rcildoun P. O., Chester Co., Pennsylvania.

SM-.DLEY DARLINGTON, 12th mo. 26th, 1856. 6t. p. Principal.

CHESTERFIELD BOARDING SCHOOL FOR BOYS—The Winter Session of this institution will commence the 17th of 11th mo. 1856, and continue twenty weeks.

Terms.—Seventy dollars per session, one half payable in advance, the other in the middle of the term No extra charges. For further particulars address HENRY W. RIDGWAY, Crosswicks P. O., Burlington County, N. J. 10th mo., 1856.3m.

AT &L. WARD, Plain Bonhrt Makers, North West _[_M , corner 9th and Spruce streets, Philadelphia. 11th mo. 29th.—2m.

GWYNEDD BOARDING SCHOOL FOR YOUNG MEN AND BOYS. The Winter Session ot this Institution will commence on Second-day the tenth of Eleventh Month next, and continue twenty weeks.

TermB for Tuition, Board and Washing, $70 00 per session, and no extra charges.

For further information address either of the under signed DANIEL FOULKE, Principal,

HUGH FOULKE, jr., Teacher. Spring House P. O., Montgomery Co., Pa.

FRIENDS' INTELLIGENCER

VOL. XIII. PHILADELPHIA, FIRST MONTH 10, 1857. No. 43.

EDITED BY AN ASSOCIATION OF FRIENDS.

PUBLISHED BY WM. VV. MOORE, No. 100 South Fifth Street, PHILADKLPHIA, Every Seventh day at Two Dollars per annum, payable in advance. Three copies sent to one address for Five Dollars.

Communications must be addressed to the Publisher, free of expense, to whom all payments are to be made.

Some account of the early life and religious exercises of Increase Woodward, as found among her •papers.

(Concluded from page 6o9.)

To William Woodward, New York.

Upper Freehold, 10th mo. 23, 1799. My dear William,—Indeed thou art very near to my heart. I once thought it would be too great a trial to -me, that either of my children should go to sea. Many afflicting ideas were painted in case it so happened: yet, strange it is that I should consent to thy going. I considered thee as on a brink, unsettled, and full of youthful ardor. Idleness lays such an one open to many dangers ; and in some respects I hoped it would be for thy good. Reason said, let him go: then again, what! leave his native soil, his family and his friends ! to be turned out into the wide world, young and inexperienced ! forego his religious society and lose his claim thereto! These, and many more, bore down the scale with weight and anxiety.

What I have felt, my son, neither words nor pen can paint or describe. All the consolation that calmed my mind on thy behalf, was, that I knew there was an almighty, overruling Father in heaven, who supporteth and upholdeth all things. My prayer was to him, if consistent with his will, to be thy guide and thy preserver in all thy ways. Yes, my son: he will preserve thee unblemished from an impure world, if thou art willing to be so saved. Take heed, therefore, that thou love not the world, nor the things that are therein : for if we love the world, the love of the heavenly Father is not in us. Ought not the Lord, the God whose immensity is unfathomable, and his mercy infinite, whose goodness and kindness to frail, sinful man is abundant, to claim all our love, our adoration and praise. For he that formed the eye, can he not Bee ? and also the ear, cannot he hear, and know all the actions

and bent of the hearts of his creatures? and will he not recompense them according to their deserts? yes; surely. Therefore, my son, devote a little of thy fleeting time to serious meditation, that thou mayst become acquainted with thine own heart,—for there the immortal seed lies hid. The pearl of great price, the seed of the kingdom, is hid in the earthly mind ; but not being enough desired and sought after, is it not kept from growing up in thee, by worldly thoughts and pleasures? We love the present world, and so do not seek the kingdom of heaven, which is declared to bo within us.

Beware, my son, that thou quench not the spirit, nor despise the strivings of the immortal Witness, which moves in thee to produce a new birth, that would bring forth in theo a new manner of life; a life of holy living, and fruits of righteousness, the end of which brings peace and joy, and a humble confidence of being a child of God.

Happy, thrice happy are those who through faithfulness attain to this knowledge. Though storms arise, it cannot be shaken; though the sea lift up its waves, and the winds blow as from the four corners of the earth, they shall lift up their heads in hope above them all. Trials are permitted for our refinement; for the righteous are tried as in the fire, and acceptable men in the furnace of adversity. Bear with my serious strain, my son. Seriousness becomes dependant mortals. We are commanded to prove all things, and to hold fast that which is good. Mayst thou, my dear son, do so, is the fervent wish of thy affectionate mother.

Mind thy business steadily like a sober, honest, solid man. I wish thee to take every step with caution. Beware of trusting unprincipled men, and let a righteous principle be thy foundation,—then will peace rest on thy attainments. I wish thou mayst flourish, and rise to be a beautiful flower or plant in our garden ; so that through thee the name of a Woodward may bo deservedly respected. Be steady, punctual to thy word, and think twice before thou speaks once. Do not be wild, vain or flighty; but keep in the true medium. 0 William, I want thee to be an accomplished man; and the way to become such is to mind the Truth; it will make thee an example for others to admire and to follow. Thy mother hath endeavored to direct thy infant steps, and guard thee from falling into • wrong paths : and where I have fallen short, may I be forgiven. My intentions have been pure, however sullied by adverse occuriences. Deep have been my provings in my progress through life; when the torrents of adversity have borne down and nearly crushed my natural reason; yet I could say as in the language of Jonah, " Out of the belly of hell cried I, and thou heardcst my voice." When I remember these things, I am bowed as in the dust, acknowledging the gracious dealings of Almighty wisdom, in calling, leading and preserving me through, the wilderness, when clouds and darkness, and even the floods, which the dragon cast forth to drown the birth of good desires, beset me round. These good desires, were begotten by the powerful principle of Truth in my heart; but that which is at enmity with the good would draw down the affections to earth, or settle the mind at ease. So that there is need always to watch and to pray without ceasing, in order to witness Divine approbation.

I feel that nature is on the decline, and my faculties weakening ; therefore I want the help of my dear children to watch my steps, lest I stumble and fall. Let us then take heed, my son; and so run as to obtain a glorious crown at last, that we may join the host of holy spirits made perfect through suffering.

Dost thou go to Friends' meetings? or hast thou quite thrown off the esteem thou ought to have lor thy mother's profession, and which Bhould be thine also. O William, seek true wisdom. It is a glorious ornament. May blessings from beneath, and blessings from above, be showered down on thy head, who art thus separated from thy brethren, and from thy affectionate mother,

Increase Woodward.

On the first day of the year, 1800, my son William Woodward was visited with a solemn call to prepare for death ; and I hope he did improve his short stay in this world, which was four months and ten days. He departed this life on the 10th day of the 5th month, 1800.

Thus are the cares and exercises of my mind on account of my dearly beloved son, ended in his removal from this changing, uncertain element. And now, we hope, ho rejoices in heaven. So be it,—wishes the parent, who much desired his eternal peace.

Alas 1 my beloved son! how wast thou changed! Though thou wast like the goodly cedar, a little while ago, thou art now blasted and fallen! fallen as from high places, and brought down by an adverse wind, too powerful. The mildew, the blight, and decay have struck at thy root; and thou art fallen, withered, and gone from mutability;—thy prospects all broken, —and a final disappointment of thy hopes 1 Thus are the expectations of men cut off, as to the things of this world.

Thou wast endued with bright and quick talents ;—flushed with earnest intentions to gain what is called an independent fortune, thou grasped at the vain shadow,—the perishing goods of this world! But alas! the keen scythe of adversity and death, in one awful moment, has put an end to all thy prospects, thy hopes, and thy life! Cut off in the prime of thy manhood, thou art gone down forever to the silent grave. Though thy life was checkered with vanity, yet through thy Redeemer's mercy thy close was favored with a peaceful calm : and though night, a perpetual night, hath shut the scenes of this world, yet thy spirit liveth, and, we hope, rejoiceth in the mansions of eternal peace.

ESTHER TUKE.

Dear Friend, S. E.—Under the bumbling dispensation we have lately passed through, my mind hath many times been drawn near to thee; and after the departure of our dear friend John Woolman, there seemed a strong inclination to salute thee with a few lines, and let thee know a little how he was in the course of his painful affliction. And though it may now seem rather a repetition, as several accounts have been sent to London, yet as no one was more with him, nor had greater opportunities to observe the state of his mind, a few hints concerning him, with a copy of some expressions dropped at sundry times, I believe will not be unacceptable. He was exceedingly afraid from the first, of giving needless trouble to any; but his disorder increasing so much that constant attendance was necessary, he desired I would stay with him, and not sleep out of the house, till I saw an alteration; which I very willingly complied with. And though it was exceedingly trying to see him labor under unspeakable affliction, and I could render so little relief, yet I have many times been thankful in being favored to attend him: for as I never saw one bear so much before, so I never beheld the like fortitude, patience, and steady resignation. His hope and confidence was so strong and firmly fixed, that the greatest storms of affliction were not able to move him, or ever cause him to utter one impatient word, indicating he thought any thing too hard: and though he was not free to take much medicine, yet he attended so much to the progress of the disorder, and his own feelings as to what suited for healing, or cooling nourishment, &c, that our apothecary, a man we think of singular judgment in that disorder, not a Friend, said, he did not know how he could be better ordered than he ordered himself; except towards the last, he seemed to need something more cordial, and which he was not unwilling to take, but his throat was then so closed that he could not swallow but with the greatest difficulty, yet often strove, when it was distressing to see bim under his great weakness and the pain that it caused him; and at times he quietly said, " I believe I 1 must in a little time give it over and try no more;" and it seemed twice wholly closed up. But as a further detail of these painful circumstances cannot be of use, and are exceedingly affecting to me to relate, shall leave them and say, that though to us be appeared in some things singular, and the path he trod straitcr than the liberty some of us have thought that the truth gives, yet I may say to thee, that I cannot help thinking, it was the way truth led him. And though it is not for us to endeavor to step into the same strait way, except from the like call, yet we may be thankful that we are allowed more liberty, and can in a more comfortable manner enjoy the temporal blessings afforded us. And on looking at this, and the little comfort he had, it was cause of stumbling to my mind, and brought me to an enquiry, what returns I made, and how far I walked answerable to what I enjoyed far beyond merit. I have sometimes thought his singular abstemious way, so oonspicuous and striking, may be a means to draw divers others to the like examination; and I know of nothing in this luxurious and licentious age more likely to begin a reformation, than a solid consideration of this sort. Do we not see how pride and superfluity, in meats drinks and apparel, abound amongst us, and, like a torrent, seem to carry all before them, and I think cry loudly for a stop? For my part, the prospect is often so distressing, on account of training up our own children, and the like difficulties other religious parents lay under, that my life is often a life of mourning and lamentation ; for it seems scarce possible to bring them up in the way they should walk; and if we could, there seems little probability, without something extraordinary, that they would be kept in itj such is the example, such the giving way in general, and, with sorrow it may be said, in many that should be as leaders. If this good man's example in life and in death should have a tendency, as I hope it may, to draw some to inspect a little oloser than they have hitherto done, we should be careful how we take off the weight, by blaming a singularity, which, if compared with our holy Pattern, we shall find, I think, not far out of the way.

And now 1 hope, though we are pretty much strangers to each other, as to the outward, that thou wilt be sensible that my thus communicating my private thoughts is in that love in which there is freedom, and with a hope that thou wilt treat me in like manner. I am far from supposing thou hast judged hardly of John Woolman, but I believe some here away will, and would be glad perhaps to find flaws in his singularity, to cover themselves, and stave off a narrow scrutiny and inspection into their own conduct and example.

I am far from mourning that he is gone, be

lieving that his day's work is finished, and his measure of suffering filled up : and I scarce ever expected his recovery during his sickness, though there were many favorable symptoms, for, on looking at the path, and the unspeakable difficulties that would attend his travelling, &c, it seemed often clear to me that he would be delivered from it by death, or have liberty in his mind respecting the use of some things. I have sometimes thought there might be a providential hand in his taking and dying with the small-pox, for if he had gone off in almost any other disorder, one might have feared his manner of living, and the hardships he was exposed to, had occasioned it; but for this disease, his matiner of living might seem a fit preparation ; and the apothecary, so skilful in it, said, before he saw him, that no person living as ho understood he had, could be much afflicted by having a great load of small pox. But he found his mistake, and diligently attended him, expressing an anxious solicitude for his recovery; and divers times, with tears in his eyes, expressed his astonishment to sec, as he said, such a perfect and upright man upon earth. John Woolman frequently conversed with him, with great openness, and when he deviated in his judgment from the Doctors, he gave such reasons as were to him satisfactory. He attended the funeral, and said afterwards, he could scarce forbear giving testimony to the audienoe concerning him, but forbore, knowing it would be an intrusion upon us. Indeed, a Methodist preacher said a few words at the grave side, with which divers of us were well satisfied, though not prudent to tell him so.

I think now to conclude, being rather afraid of being tedious j after saying, that we are beginning to be disappointed at not seeing thee here; but as thou intended it, I would hope we may yet see thee before thy return; which would be a little reviving in these drooping days, to thy sincere friend and poor little fellow traveller in the hope and fellowship of the gospel.

Esther Tukb.

York, 10th mo. Uth, 1772.

Some persons think of obedienoe as if it were nothing else, and could be nothing else, than servitude. And it must be admitted that conttrained obedienca is so. He who obeys by compulsion and not freely, wears a chain upon his spirit, which continually frets and torments, while it confines him. But this is not Christian obedience. To obey with the whole heart, in other words, to obey as God would have us, is essentially the same as to be perfeotly resigned to the will of God. And he must have strange notions of the interior and purified life, who supposes that the obedience which revolves constantly and joyfully within the limits of the Divine will, partakes of the nature of servitude. On the contrary, true obedience, which has its

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