longer, is some consolation; that his mind was more sensible than his body, and alive to the feelings of friendship to the last; and possessed of the divine composure of a true Christian, about to "enter into the joy of his Lord;" for the interval will not be perceived."

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Indeed, you have every thing that can comfort you, having for so many years ministered in every possible way, to his relief under great infirmities; and trying, by engaging his attention to the decyphering his previous valuable labours, to afford him all the pleasure disease left him, of being useful to others, which was always his delight. That he knew your value, and was full of affection and gratitude, I have no doubt: That your love of his talents and virtues, flowed over to those who were very dear to him, and whose esteem and affection will now contribute to your ease and comfort, (for they are all good) and thereby will shew the stability of their tender, dutiful attachment, to so excellent a father. But whatever sources of human consolation may belong to you, there is one omnipotent Protector, whose favour and support no time or circumstance can withdraw from those who sincerely desire, and endeavour to serve and obey him: and there our chief confidence lies."

"All things have for a long time, had a tendency to moderate your hopes of any great comfort in his living, or any great length of life; yet, even the absence of that tender, anxious attention and soothing, night and day, to so amiable an object, will leave a painful chasm, which only

time and a sense of dutiful submission to the appointment of God will fill up; with the occupations and demands of general benevolence, such as you have been in the habit of exercising."

"I write more to relieve my own mind than to impress yours; we have all a manner of feeling peculiar to ourselves, and have points of consolation and regret, to which others must be strangers but the voice of friendship cannot be silent or uninterested under the events, which break the affections and habits of those one loves."

"We are much obliged to Mr. Wellbeloved for his letter, and tolerably good account of you; and rejoice that you have so many to share your sorrow, and give the best assistance the melancholy event requires."

It was soothing to my mind, that every possible mark of respect, in the manner of his funeral, should be paid to the memory of my dear friend. To him it was doubtless of no moment; but to take away a highly respected character to interment in the dead of night, or before the morning dawn, according to the usually prescribed forms of modern practice, seems at once an outrage to our own feelings, and calculated to deprive the survivors of all those salutary and instructive impressions, which such striking scenes might have the power to engrave. Mr. Wellbeloved was himself too sorrowful a mourner, to perform the last offices; and I therefore requested my late worthy friend, Mr. Wood of Leeds, to supply his place. Dr. Robert Cappe although himself at that time extremely ill, determined to

accompany his brother, three sisters, and myself, along with Mr. and Mrs. Wellbeloved, and many other friends, to pay our last sorrowful tribute of duty and affection. The service was highly appropriate; and after the interment, when that fine piece was performed, by my particular desire, from Handel's Messiah,-"The trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised," our grief for a moment gave way to something like triumphant exultation.

This mournful event took place on the morning of the last day, of the last year of the 18th. century. Long ere a succeeding century shall have run its course, another and another race, contemplating our tombs, will wonder why we should have sorrowed so deeply for the loss of those, whom, in their apprehensions, we shall seem so very soon to have followed!

The first meeting of the Female Benefit Club, which I had for some months been occupied in planning, had been advertised, for several preceding weeks, to take place on the first day of the new year. I was utterly unable to attend ;

but I wrote an Address to be read there, and consented to be appointed one of a committee, for drawing up the Rules, and for taking the necessary preliminary measures, to be ready against an adjourned meeting, at the expiration of six weeks from that time. I felt this indispensable engagement a most oppressive and heavy burden, still farther augmented by a load of other business, which necessarily devolved upon me, but I believe I was benefited upon the whole, by the extraordinary exertion it required.

How heavily did the first months of the new century pass away! What a dark cloud appeared to hang over them! Did the primrose and violet once more announce the return of spring, and again delight by their freshness and beauty, what was it now to me?-The beloved object was gone, for whose gratification, as he took his daily rides in the garden, it had heretofore been my happiness to gather them! So associated indeed was his beloved image, enfeebled as it was by long disease, and threatening dissolution, with every idea of future enjoyment;-so subservient for the last nine years, had been my every pursuit, to the desire of alleviating the distressing languor of sickness, and of giving him pleasure, that even those occupations in which I had hitherto been most interested, appeared to me now quite dull and spiritless-their very nature seemed altered. How often did my saddened heart repeat the sorrowful enquiry of the shepherd king, "Why art thou cast down, O my soul, and why art thou disquieted within me?" and how often did it receive consolation from the pious advice, administered instead of a reply-" Hope thou in God, for I shall yet praise him who is the health of my countenance, and my God."

CHAPTER 38.

Mr. Cappe's Critical Dissertations prepared for the press... Mr. Lindsey's first debilitating attack....Baptizes a child for the last time, in Spital-square....Dr. Cappe appointed Physician to the Quakers' Retreat....Mr. Lindsey's second attack....Dissertations published....Their reception.

THE first occupation from which I could derive pleasure, was in preparing some of Mr. Cappe's Critical Dissertations, which I had formerly transcribed from his dictating to me, from his shorthand papers, for the press, and in writing the Memoir already mentioned. This employment seemed to renew something like a kind of intercourse; and I pleased myself with thinking, that if his conscious existence were already renewed, and he knew any thing of what was passing in this lower world, in this infant state of human being, it would be acceptable to him that his writings and his example might still continue to comfort the afflicted, to enlighten the ignorant, and to reform the dissolute.

In the June of this year, 1801, Mr. Lindsey had his first very debilitating attack, of which I will transcribe the following particulars, received in a letter from Mrs. L. dated the 14th. "You bid me tell you how Mr. Lindsey bore his excursion into Surry: I wish I could give you a better account; though but twenty-two miles, and all things easy and delightful to him, as I thought, he sunk so much and rapidly, that on the fourth