and very quietly closed on seventh-day morning, the 30th, about twenty minutes after eight o'clock. In near sympathy, we are your friends,

THE FEMALE TEACHERS.

West-town Boarding School,}

11th month 2d, 1802.

Not long after this solemn event, the following lines were written by John Baldwin, one of the teachers, for the benefit of the surviving children. THE messenger of death, we see, has come, And from this family has taken one; Gives us afresh this serious truth to see, No age nor station from his power is free. The serious warning, let the children take, And in due time, a preparation make. The preacher of mortality speaks loud; Let none be disobedient, light, or proud; For in this state, no one prepar'd can be, The awful messenger of death to see, A king of terrors he must be to those, Who live in pride, and good advice oppose: But those who do the holy truth obey, Will find the sting of death to pass away. Death will not wait our leisure; but when sent, No skilful doctor can his stroke prevent. The tender parents, and the children dear, Are always subject to be parted here. Brothers and sisters too, must separate; This world affords us no continuing state. When I beheld this child lay cold and dead, What serious feelings over me it spread: Who, with her schoolmates, but the other day, Perhaps in pleasant talk, pass'd time away,

Not thinking solemn death so near her door,
That she, on earth, so soon should be no more.
Hence, see the uncertain state of mortal's breath,
At all times subject to the stroke of death.
When I beheld her tender parents come,
It brought the serious case more closely home.
How must they feel? With glowings in my breast,
I sympathiz'd with them in their distress.
Lord, be their comfort.-'Tis our hope that she,
Thy gift to them, is now at rest with thee.
J. B.

The following additional tribute to her memory is deemed worthy of preservation.

On the death of ANN CARLILE, daughter of Daniel and Elizabeth Carlile, who died at Westtown School.

How transitory are all earthly joys!

And how precarious all we hold most dear! Death, our fond prospects with our life destroys, Ere we suppose the solemn hour is near.

'Twas thus, fair Anna, while the rosy 'hue

Of youthful beauty on thy cheeks did glow, Ere yet thy virtues all were brought to view, That thou wast summon'd from the world below. Tho' death consign'd thy body to the grave, Where it must mingle with its native clay; Thy soul shall flourish in immortal bloom," In the bright regions of eternal day. There, the rewards of virtue shall be thine, In bliss as perfect as thy soul was pure, For the mild virtues of thy heart benign, Must make thy calling and election sure.

Then let thy tender parents cease to grieve,

Tho' thou, their only child, from them wast torn: The stroke which Heaven permits, we must receive; What God decrees must be with patience borne. Tho' far from them, it was thy lot to die,

Unaided by thy tender parents' care; The ever gracious Saviour from on high, Cheer'd the dire hour, nor left thee to despair. 'Tis true religion that exalts the heart,

That points to Heaven, the sure unerring road, In death, the balm of comfort doth impart, And bears the soul in triumph to its God. He who this varied transient life would close, Like thee, fair Anna, with a mind serene, In the Almighty must his hopes repose, Nor in the alluring paths of vice be seen. Happy were he, who to thy virtues due,

This humble tribute to thy memory pays, Could he the course of virtue thus pursue,

And end, like thee, in innocence his days. But how unmindful of Heaven's high behest,

Are we who live in these degenerate times, Vice following vice, the canker'd heart infest, 'Till sunk at last beneath a weight of crimes. Then death approaching in his awful gloom, The sinner shudders at impending fate, Prays for a moment's respite from the tomb, And mourns his follies when it is too late.

Life is a blessing,-its abuse our shame, 'Tis rectitude alone that gains reward;

Die young or old, it nearly is the same;

And bless'd is he that "dieth in the Lord."

6*

J. AUSTIN.

EXTRACTS

Of Letters from Job Scott to James Bringhurst. Core Sound, North Carolina, 7th mo. 6th, 1789.

DEAR FRIEND

Where we have received favours, we are there apt to look for them again. Thus, I have to desire thee to be so kind as to forward another letter to my dear wife.

The extreme heat so affects me, that on that account, and a desire to be at your Yearly Meeting, I almost wish to be at liberty to postpone the further prosecution of my labors, here, till a cooler season. This liberty, I may not find. After all my endeavors to get forward as fast as I reasonably can, I find it will take longer time, than I hoped would suffice. Friends here think I drive rather too fast; but I hope I may be preserved in my proper allotment, wherever that may be.

My health is as well as I can expect, in this hot country. My way lately has been pretty open; and though bonds and afflictions will, I suppose, ever more or less, betide the gospel, yet I get through, from time to time, mostly to a degree of solid satisfaction. Our friend James Ladd, of Virginia, is acceptably with me, at present. I hope he may continue with me some time; but I am much resigned, as to having, or not having, such company as may be agreeable to my own mind. I desire to finish the service allotted to me, in this land, with faithfulness; that I may return at last with peace. But there are many lesser things, wherein I find it best not to be anxiously desirous at all; but, trust

ing in God, leave them to his disposal. And herein a sweetness is enjoyed, not to be known amid the many anxieties, which have sometimes prevailed. May thou, and thy dear wife, find here, in this resigned state of mind, a calm retreat from the distressing sensations, too commonly suffered to affect our minds, arising from the various annoyances, attendant on human life. My dear love is feelingly to thee and her.

Charleston, 8th mo. 29th, 1789.

I received thy letter of 6th month, here. The weather has lately become cooler, and my health better. Am now pretty well. We have had many meetings, where no Friends' meetings are settled, and where no Friends live,-mostly much owned and favoured. Great is the openness and tenderness amongst many. I have been much engaged, at these meetings, I hope, in gospel authority. May the Lord of the harvest send more labourers into the harvest, for the fields are white.

The work among the Methodists often seems to me, in some degree, to resemble John's ministration; to prepare the way of the Lord, that Christ may be made manifest unto Israel. I firmly believe, if there were living bodies of Friends in these States, pretty much spread through them, they would take many of the most serious of the people. But they see little among Friends to induce them to look long that way. May none among us remain at ease in our ceiled houses, or other houses,-whose business is abroad, in the wide field of labour in this day opened among men.

Excuse my not writing oftener. I am almost