could make his appeal to the Lord, and say, 'O Lord, thou knowest how I have walked before thee, and served thee;' he having that assurance in his own bosom could call death sweet, because by it he 'passed out of this house of clay into the mansions of glory!'

When he had been ill a few days, he said to them about him, 'This is ordered for my end, and it will be well with me; my soul shall go to rest.' One who was with him said, 'How did he know but the Lord might raise him up again?' He answered, 'A man that lived a righteous life, he believed often knew a little beforehand how it would be with him.' His nurse wishing those present were as fit to die as he, he answered, 'I thank God I have nothing to do but to die; all the world is nothing to me, I have done with it.' But adding, his care was a little for his dear father and mother, and sister and her children, saying, how would they do without him; for indeed he was very assisting to them.

Another time he said, 'When I am gone hence, I shall receive a new name.' At another time he sent for his father, mother, and sister, to take his leave of them: his father asked him how he did; he said, 'Very bad;' and asking him what he had to say to him, he answered, Farewell, farewell, farewell.' Then his mother and sister went, and his sister asked him how he did; he answered, 'It will be well with me, and that he was not afraid to die; he did not fear death if it was that minute.' And so departed this life the 30th of the Sixth month, 1711, and left a good savour and blessed memory behind him. He was a dutiful son, a kind brother, a faithful friend, and a good neighbour. He left a small treatise behind him, in manuscript, entitled, 'A Call to the Disobedient,' and some other papers.

He was buried at Friends' burying-ground at Witney, many Friends and others attending.

Aged twenty-eight years; and a minister about eight.

MARY TURNER, the wife of John Turner, at Tottenham High Cross, in the county of Middlesex, was the third daughter of that remarkable sufferer for the testimony of a good conscience, Richard Vickris, of Chew-Magna, in Somersetshire, deceased, and Elizabeth his wife, daughter to that ancient worthy, George Bishop, of Bristol. In her tender years, by the grace of God, through the care of her religious parents, she was instructed in, and seasoned with the princi ples of the holy truth, as professed by the people called Quakers; in which she continued faithful, and was an example of piety and virtue through the course of her life.

When a little child, our much esteemed friend William Penn coming in at her father's, where he was very conversant, and affected with her pretty innocent deportment, broke forth, extempore, thus:

'Sweet soul! what makes thee stray

From the angelic way?

Was it to teach us how to love

The happy regions above?

If so, O! let thy wand'ring prove our gain,
And take us with thee back again.'

She was naturally of a lively and cheerful temper, which remained when she came to years of discretion, yet took pleasure in frequent retirement, and divine meditation, in meetings for worship, and religious conversation, and received worthy public Friends with great comfort and satisfaction. When at home alone, she entertained herself chiefly in reading the Holy Scriptures, Friends' writings, and the three first books of Thomas à Kempis, on the Imitation of Christ; at other times with her pen and needle; for it was rare to find her unemployed in something useful or necessary, when her health permitted. In her dress and apparel she was very neat and plain. The tenderness of her love and affection to her husband, mothers, brother and sisters, was more than common, and very remarkable, and likewise so generally ex

tended to her acquaintance, especially where truth had a prevalency, that it may be said, love predominated in her.

A few years before her death, she was sensible of a gradual decay of bodily strength, and when weakness and faintness prevailed, she bore it with much patience and resignation to God's holy will. In a sense of the uncertainty of the comforts here below, she wrote thus to a near friend:

'The enjoyments of this life appear very changeable, and we are apt to seek them more than is good for us, which hinders our inward comfort: so we have something to war against every day. I desire thou mayest be directed by that divine hand which orders all things for our good every way, as we have an eye to it.'

And in another to a relation: 'I am very sensible of my happiness, and desire to walk worthy of the mercies I enjoy; yet the want of my health has been an affliction to me but I do not repine at that, since it is an advantage to us to have some alloy to the comforts of this life, which are mostly attended with disappointments of one kind or other.'

On her bed of sickness she said to her brother, she admired people should so much place their affections on the things of this world, which are but as dross, and like travelling in misery; and earnestly desired their family might, with Jacob, obtain a blessing; and as they had such worthy parents, who had educated them in the ways of truth, and enjoyed so many favours beyond many others, there ought to be a double thankfulness to the giver. She desired her brother to be a comfort to their tender mother, and to keep up their honourable father's name, as one of the branches of the family, and then there would be a blessing laid up for him.

Speaking to her sisters, she said, 'We should be good examples in the plainness of our habits, as we make profession of the principle of truth, and should take up the cross daily; for we were not born to serve ourselves, but to honour the Lord. That pain and weakness were hard to bear; and

when we are going out of the world, we had need to have nothing then to do: that she waited for the presence of the Lord, in which was more pleasure than in all the joys of this world.' Then turning to one of them said, 'The Lord hath done great things for thee, and may have a work for thee to do; there is good seed sown in thy heart, and I desire the Lord will bless thee.'

Having been tendered in her spirit, some friends came to visit her, and prayed with her; whereupon she said, she saw the Lord had not forsaken her, but sent his servants to visit her, which was a great comfort to her.

Another time one of her sisters coming into the room, 'O sister,' said she, 'the old accuser of the brethren lies very near, but the Lord's hand is underneath, and sweetly supports.'

Some days after, the same sister being by her bedside, she had an extraordinary concern for her own welfare and her near relations, saying, 'Dear sister, I have a steadfast hope, but not yet a full assurance. I desire thee, pray earnestly for me, lest there should be anything committed by me, that may have slipped out of my remembrance, and I not be earnest enough with the Lord for forgiveness. I also pray earnestly for you all, that you may come where I hope to be; and for my dear husband likewise' and expressed her great care, that not one of the family might be lost.

Another of her sisters, leaving her a little time, desired the Lord would support her under her weakness, she answered, 'He hath, and I believe will;' and seemed comfortably resigned in her spirit.

A few hours before her departure she desired to be raised in her bed, on which she seemed as if she should pass away, and bade all farewell; but reviving, said, 'I thought I had been going, but the Lord hath given me life from the pangs of death, praised be his name: oh! praises be to the Lord, he hath given me a little ease.'

Her fear was so great of offending the Lord, that perceiving VOL. II.-6

some disposition to slumber, she said to her mother, then near her, 'Dost think he will be angry if I should drop asleep?'

Some time after, being moved again, she seemed refreshed, and lay in a sweet frame of mind, praising the Lord, saying, 'Lord, thou art merciful, compassionate and true. Thou hast given me ease: oh! I will praise thy name at all times, from time to time; every hour, every minute while I live I will praise thee.' Being in great pain, she said to some that were near her, 'He will give me ease by and by;' and earnestly prayed to the Lord for it after this manner: 'Dear Lord, give me ease: sweet Lord Jesus, give me ease;' and then said to her sister, he would. Her sister said, she did not doubt but the Lord would answer her desire, and give her a full assurance; to which she answered, 'I believe he will.' Then she desired those by her to pray for her.

Having slumbered a little, she awoke refreshed, and looking on one of her sisters, she said to her, 'Dear sister, I shall do well, I shall do well.' After which she was heard very sweetly in prayer to the Lord to receive her; and was sensible to the last.

Toward the conclusion of her days, her weakness was attended with such faintness and pain, sometimes, that it made her apprehensive it would be very hard to bear the struggles of her final dissolution, which she frequently begged of the Lord to make easy; and he was pleased to answer her desires accordingly; for she passed hence almost without sigh, groan, or any visible alteration of counte

nance.

She departed this life at Tottenham aforesaid, on the 31st of the Sixth month, 1711, and was decently interred in Friends' burying-ground in Bunhill-fields, at London, on the 5th day of the Seventh month following, about the thirtythird year of her age.