people seemed to know but very little of the real nature of divine worship. I returned in heaviness to the city, and next day got a degree of refreshment in the meeting at Meath-street, through deep dwelling and keeping low in and with a little low stream of life, which at length enlarged to something of a river; but still I could not quite ease off my burden, nor rise above my deep depression of spirit. Another meeting at the same place in the afternoon, appointed by dear A. Tuke, afforded me a degree of additional relief, so that I began to feel a little cheerful. 5th, I felt restrained from attending a meeting appointed for the same Friend at Dunlary; I knew not why, but felt easiest to decline going, so I rested and wrote at the house of my dear friend Thomas Bewley, bringing up this account to the time of said day of rest and writing.

CHAPTER XV.

AFTER Writing thus far, our dear friend, not feeling himself at liberty to leave Dublin, remained there for several days, and during his detention he wrote a letter to an intimate friend in America, from which are taken the following extracts:

"My health is but about middling, oft below that, and seldom or never above. I have been at all the meetings of Friends in Ireland, and had divers among other persuasions; and oft engaged in almost bloody wars (spiritually) against the priests. Had I known how I should have been led to wage almost constant war with Babylon, and her merchants, and merchandise, before I left home, I don't know that I could have been given up to come; but the divine will be done in all things. I was expecting to see England, directly after the national meeting here, now just past; but am a prisoner in Dublin, and scarcely know but I must go back to some places, (unusual motion for me,) but I am

waiting to know the Master's will; and when I hear the Shepherd's voice, I am ready to obey; at least I don't know but 1 am."

He left Dublin the 9th of the 11th month, in order to accompany Ann Tuke, as far at least as Ballitore; and of this visit and his illness, she kept the following account:

He seemed perfectly easy with leaving Dublin, and was unusually cheerful all the way to Johnstown; at which place he attended a public meeting. His feeling mind suffered as usual, from the fluctuating state of the people, and their want of preparation to receive the pure seed of the kingdom. We were accompanied from Dublin by Sarah Shackleton, Abraham Jackson, and Joshua Beale; and the evening proving wet, after the meeting at Johnstown, S. S. joined him and myself in taking a post-chaise from the 19 mile house, to Elizabeth Shackleton's at Ballitore.

His mind seemed released from its usual depressions and burdens, which he often expressed to A. T. were almost continual while in Dublin, and many other places in England and Ireland; adding, "I never felt the like in all my travels; for I seldom feel much, or any relief after meetings." He communicated many instructive passages in the line of his own experience; and we often expressed our comfort in having the enjoyment of his company so uninterruptedly; which, he said, was mutual; and that he had not had a ride wherein his mind was so entirely at liberty, since coming to Europe; and often repeated, that he did not expect the like during his continuance in it. The unusual consolation we experienced, and the entire freedom I felt towards him, often brought to my remembrance the last night I spent with my beloved sister Sarah Grubb, at Ackworth, a little before her decease. I endeavoured to avoid the comparison, and cherished a hope that we might be together in England, which from some of his expressions, I had cause to believe he also apprehended; yet my mind was, nevertheless, during the latter part of the time, under continual exercise; insomuch that I was on the point of expressing it, and my appreVOL. I.-59

hensions of some trial approaching us; (of which he seemed also sensible, by repeatedly saying, "This will not last long;”) but did not like to interrupt his pleasing and instructive converse, Similar feelings increased on coming near Ballitore; and the chaise being turned over just as we reached it, I was in hopes they were then accounted for; though that circumstance was not adequate to the depth of them, as we were preserved from any material injury.

On first-day, the 10th, he spoke in the morning meeting at Ballitore; and very powerfully in a public meeting which was held in the evening, at his request. After which he imparted weighty and instructive counsel in a Friend's family; concluding in awful supplication. On our return in the evening, and after we reached our lodgings, he expressed the feelings he had had in the course of the day, very freely, adding, that he felt but little relief from that day's exercise and labour. But next morning he said, that after retiring to rest, he felt easy respecting it.

This evening, he had seemed anxious to set out for Carlow, on second-day morning; but was so unwell in the night, as entirely to drop the thoughts of it. When I went up from dinner, he requested I would sit down beside him, and seemed to wish to speak to me. He expressed some of his feelings, the preceding evening, and repeated the state he often was in after meetings, and being in families. He seemed low and diffident respecting his labours, and as if he feared little use would arise from them; and I mentioned some little matter, by way of encouragement. He then said, he had been feeling after that situation in which his own will might be slain, desiring that when the end came, he might be ready. Then added, " Keep close to thy own precious gift. Never move but under it, and it will preserve thee, and carry thee through all lands thou mayst be sent to."

He continued all the day very poorly; complained of much pain in his head and limbs, and great difficulty in breathing. In the night, was restless and uneasy; and on third-day, the 12th, had an increase of these symptoms, with violent heat, &c. A physician in the neighbourhood was called in, towards evening,

who pronounced his complaints of the inflammatory kind, and prescribed bleeding; which greatly relieved him. He mentioned that he felt as he often had done in the beginning of a long illness; but that he knew not what was the real cause of his uneasiness. On third-day night he rested but little.

On fourth-day, the 13th, his head continued bad, and his breathing difficult, and he suffered extremely,-in his sleep, in particular. He expressed that he felt in the night preceding, as if the agonies of death were upon him. Further medical assistance was then thought necessary, and Paul Johnson, a physician of Dublin, for whom he had expressed an attachment, was sent for. He mentioned in the course of this day and the preceding, that it mattered little what part of the world he died in; that he had sometimes hoped to see New England again, and his dear children; but that these were matters of but little consequence, and he had no will in it; that he had looked closely towards home, and his connexions, and into the state of his own mind, though he did not know how the disorder would terminate.

Towards morning, on fifth-day, the 14th, he seemed more easy, and appeared, at times, to sleep comfortably. About ten o'clock, an eruption appeared, which the doctor supposed the small-pox, and which in the course of the day greatly increased. He seemed to be relieved from his former oppression, asked several questions about the small-pox, and then said very emphatically, "Ann, its no matter what is the disorder." And in a little while added, " Its being that, or any other, does not at all alter my feelings." On my saying, his getting well through it, would be a great favour, he answered with a smiling countenance, "Whichever way it is, I hope I shall get well over it." He continued all the day cheerful and easy; and expressed something towards evening, respecting the disposal of his papers; also concerning his sentiments, which he said were unaltered, respecting the divinity of Christ, what is called the trinity, &c. Said he had written a treatise on Baptism, which his friends had published since he left America; and then added: "There is an eternal arm underneath each of us, which is sufficient to bear up and support, and will do it, as far as it is needful we should be supported. I have long been confirmed in the sentiment, that

nothing could possibly happen, that would harm or injure me, while I kept under the divine influence."

Paul Johnson, the physician who had been sent for, arrived this evening, with which he expressed satisfaction; saying, he desired he should continue near him; which he did accordingly. Some time after he said, "Though I am not without some considerable bodily pain, yet I feel such a portion of that good which is infinite, that it does not seem worth mentioning: and if there was no greater enjoyment hereafter, the present would be a state truly desirable through a never-ending eternity; and yet the fulness is still more desirable."

This evening and next day, he dictated the following letter:

Dearly beloved parents, (all three,)

14th of 11th month, 1793.

brothers and sisters, relations and friends,

I am now at Ballitore, twenty-eight Irish miles from Dublin, and I suppose undoubtedly entered five days into the small-pox; the eruption began yesterday, and is very greatly increased to-day. I am very agreeably attended by physicians and the kindest of friends. I believe this is, on several accounts, one of the most favourable situations for having this disorder, in the nation, but my physicians are apprehensive that it will not prove the most favourable kind, nor perhaps of the most unfavourable. My distress of body, through extreme difficulty of breathing, &c. has, for a short space of time, been almost equal to any thing I can suppose human nature capable of, but, (it is now half-past nine at night,) this has been a very comfortable day; and just now, and for some hours past, I have been almost as easy as at any time in my life; I think certainly never more so in mind. I feel no kind of alarm; but the issue is certainly very doubtful. I feel easiest to address you in this manner, principally that you may know that my mind enjoys a fulness of that which removes beyond the reach of all sorrow, but I have some other matters also to mention. I made my will very directly after the decease of my much beloved wife; it is now easy to my mind, and I desire it may be faithfully executed. I have steadily desired my dear father Anthony would lend what