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where to steer his course. One biscuit a day, a small portion of meat, and a quart of water was all our allowance. This was continued for ten or twelve days; then we were put on half allow ance, excepting the water, which was continued the same. Ten days after, we spoke a ship, which supplied us with provision; but our allowance was not increased. The storm was now abated, and we were relieved from some distressing fears.

Oct. 28, made land on the eastern coast; found it to be a desolate island, or neck of land inhabited only by a few Indians. The ship was anchored, and we remained a few days on board. The Captain and others took the long-boat, and went, hoping to find some French inhabitants; but returned without any success. We were then ordered to land on this island. Accordingly many boats' load of people were landed, and scattered round the island, without any provision. The number of people could not, I presume, be less than a hundred. We were told, that the last boats should bring us some provision, but were disappointed. No provision was sent us. Oh, the distressed situation! some crying, some almost distracted, not knowing what to do. Death seemed to stare us all in the face, and very soon marked out many for his victims."

After we were landed, twenty or thirty of the passengers set out to look for inhabitants, but were never after heard of. Probably they all perished.

The Captain, mate, and seamen left the ship and went in search of inhabitants. After a few days' sail to the eastward, they fell in

with land, and came to a place called Newharbour, about thirty miles east of Kennebeck. Getting two small vessels there, they came back for the plunder of the ship, which had been cast upon a small island and broken to pieces. They tarried, until they had collected what plunder they pleased to take, with which they returned to Newharbour, taking with them a few of the servants and passengers, that were on the island. These were sold for their passage; but in this way they were delivered from their distressing situation. The rest of the passengers were left in the most melancholy circumstances; but a kind Provi dence furnished us with something to support nature. We found some muscles on the beach, which, with sea kelp and dulce, we boiled in a pot we had brought on shore, and were nourished by them. This was all the food we had for as much as two months. A distressing time! But God supported me even at that time, and gave me hopes of relief, which I ever maintained in the very darkest hour. Every day more or less died around us. It was observed that the men failed sooner than the women, and that a greater proportion of them died. There was scarcely one to help another, as every one had sufficient to do for himself. The provision of each day was to be sought in the day, as the manna was in the wilderness.

The Indians soon visited us, and added much to our distress; robbing us of all they could find, which we had brought from the ship. In a severe snow storm we hung our clothes on trees to

shelter us. and took them down. When I offered to resist them, one drew his hatchet and attempted to strike me. I drew back and left them to take what they pleased. Among other things they took our pot, in which we boiled our muscles; so that we were in a most distressed situation. At length I providentially thought of a sauce pan, which some of the passengers had. I went and found it lying on the ground, the owners all being dead.

The Indians came

Some further particulars deserve to be mentioned. I was landed in one of the first boats. As my mother and sisters were landing, one of my sisters died. All being in confusion and trouble, there was none to bury her, but myself. I performed that service with great composure. I then had to take care of my mother and other sister, who were somewhat helpless. God gave me strength, so that I was enabled to do something for them, as well as for myself. For some time we appeared like a very thick neighbourhood, being divided into separate companies. Our company consisted of nine persons.

When the boats were landing, as I stood on the beach, a child about two years old was put into my arms. I looked round to see who was to take it from me, but found no one that would own it. I inquired, who takes care of this child? A little boy, about twelve years old, answered, nobody, Ma'am, but I. Oh how I felt, knowing that this child's parents had both died in the ship. I was obliged to lay down the child, and leave it to the care of him, who had the care of us all.

The boy and child were soon after found dead, lying together. A most sorrowful sight!

I went to see a cousin of mine, who lay at a little distance in a feeble state, unable to rise. I asked her, whether she had any thing to eat. She said, yes, her other shipmates gave her muscles, when they got any for themselves; but added, she could eat some boiled dulce, if she could get any. I told her I would get her some to-morrow. On the morrow returning to see her, I found her dead, and several more by her.-Walking along the shore, I found a boy, about seventeen years old, sitting very disconsolate, with a book in his hand. I said to him, what do you do here? He answered, I am looking for the captain, who is coming to carry me off the Island. I said to him, did he promise you that favour? Yes, he said. Well, replied I, don't depend upon it, for I don't believe he will ever come here again. Upon this he cried bitterly; but I could not persuade him to give up his hope, and do something for a subsistence. In a few days, he was found dead, with his book open under his head.

The people began now to die very fast. There was no travel-* ling any where, but dead bodies were found, as few were buried. All were so weak and helpless, that they had enough to do to keep life in themselves. In this distressing situation we remained, until every person, of whom we had any knowledge on the Island, was dead, excepting my mother, my sister, and myself. At that time our fire went out, and we had nothing to strike fire

with. Several snows had fallen, but soon melted away. Another snow fell, when we were in such distress for fire. This scene was of all the most hopeless; nothing to cover us, but the heavens, and nothing to eat, but frozen muscles! In about one day after our fire went out, my mother died; and there she lay, a lifeless corpse, by our side. We were not able to bury her, or do any thing with her. My sister began to fail very fast, and her spirits were very low. I laid me down beside a tree to rest my head against it; but soon thought I must not lie there. I rose, and went down to the beach, got some frozen muscles and carried them to my sister, who ate them. We then both sat down beside a tree. Now my courage began to fail. I saw nothing to expect but death; yet did not wholly give up my hope. There we were, two distressed sisters, surrounded by dead bodies, without food or fire, and almost without clothing. I had no shoes to my feet, which were much swollen by reason of the cold. The ground was covered with snow, and the season was fast advancing, it being nearly the middle of December; so that we had every reason to expect that we should soon share the fate of our companions. But at that time God mercifully appeared for our relief, and thus showed himself to be the helper of the helpless. To our great surprise, we saw three men on the island, who, when they approached us, appeared to be no less surprised to find us living. I took courage and spoke to them. Having related to Vol. II. No. 5,

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them our distress, one of them asked me, if it were not better to be servants, than to die on the island. I said, yes. They then asked me several questions, which I answered as well as I could. They appeared pitiful, told us that they had come from Newharbour with two vessels for plunder, and offered to take us on board. We gladly complied with their invitation, and were hurried to the vessel. I was rising from the frozen ground by the assistance of one of the men, I put out my hand to take a small bundle, which I had preserved through all our difficulties, and which contained some clothes and books, especially my Bible. Seeing me attempt to take it, the men promised to take care of it for me. Trusting to their honour, I left it with them, but never saw it more. I also desired to see my mother buried, before I left the island. They engaged to see it done; but I have reason to fear, they never performed their engagement. After we were on board, they treated us very kindly. The captain gave each of us a spoonful of spirits and half a biscuit. This was the first piece of bread we had tasted for two months. When collecting the plunder, the people told us we should have whatever we claimed as belonging to us in the ship. This was more than we expected. After plundering the ship and stripping the dead, they sailed. Then I saw the last of my miserable abode. In five days we arrived at Newharbour. Our new friends then appeared disposed to take advantage of us, and to sell us as servants to satisfy themselves

work, which was going on in the place. At that time there was manifest a general attention to religion. Having no minister, the people met together every Sabbath, and frequently on other days, for the purpose of wor shipping God in a public manner, by prayer, singing psalms, and reading instructive books. In this way their meetings were made both agreeable and useful.

Some time in the summer mý father came to visit us. He intended to take us with him to Pennsylvania. But before his arrival, I had an offer of marriage, which my situation seemed to urge me to accept. Nor had I ever any reason to repent of my choice. November, 1742, I was married. My father tarried with us through the winter. The next summer he took my sister and returned to Pennsyl

for their trouble in saving our lives. This was a trial almost insupportable. But to our great comfort, a man came on board, who was from the same place in Ireland, from which we had come. He was kind and pitiful, and endeavoured to comfort us. God then appeared for us, and raised up a friend, who came and took us to his house, and there tenderly entertained us, bidding us be of good cheer, for he would not suffer such ruffans to take advantage of us. This gentleman gave us every consolation in his power, and conversed with us in a very Christian manner, which was affecting and comforting. He proved very punctual in fulfilling his promises. We tarried with him, until we had so far recovered, as to be able to work for our living. This gentleman wrote to my father in Pennsylvania, where he spent the revania, informing him of our sit- mainder of a very long life, as I uation, and did all he could to trust, in the service of God. forward the letter as soon as possible. This was about the last of December, 1741. In the mean time he provided good places for us. My sister was sent to live with a friend of his at a place since called Boothbay, and was very happily situated. Soon after she went there, a happy revival of religion took place among the people. I trest that she was made a subject of the work. I tarried at Newharbour through the winter. The next spring I came to this place, (Georgetown) and was employed in a family, where I enjoyed the privileges of religion, as well as very kind treatment. Both the man and his wife were professors of religion, and were greatly animated by the good

I lived very agreeably with my husband thirty years. We had eight children, two sons and six daughters. All these, excepting one daughter, God has seen fit to take from me by death. But he has graciously supported me under the rod of affliction, and enabled me to sing both of mercies and of judgments.

In the year 1741, when many professed to meet with a divine change, my husband was hopefully brought to embrace the gospel, and gave evidence, both living and dying, that he was a follower of Christ. My three eldest daughters experienced, as I hope, God's saving grace under the ministry of the Rev. Ezekiel Emerson, who is still

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continued as an ambassador of Christ among us. The other children God was pleased look upon in mercy, I trust, in their last sickness, and to afford me comfortable hope respecting them. Oh that I could praise the Lord for his goodness, and bless him for his wonderful works. But I fail in the attempt. Make up, blessed Jesus, my deficiency, and glorify thyself; and let saints and angels ascribe to the sacred Three all honour and glory forever.

These dispensations of Providence I have thought worthy of thankful remembrance. When I review God's dealings with me in the various scenes of life, I am filled with wonder and amazement. Great has been his goodness, and great my unworthiness. I view him as my cov enant God, who foresaw these trials, and was graciously pleased to prepare me for them, by taking me into covenant with himself. He has upheld and supported me under all my trials; so that I have abundant reason to say, he has ever been a present help in time of need. I have reason, as it seems, more than any one on earth, to acknowledge God's goodness, which has been so abundantly manifested towards me, even from my youth.

I am now seventy-six years old. Through the goodness of God I enjoy a comforta ble state of health, and am able generally to attend the worship of God, and to unite with his

children in gospel ordinance s As to earthly connexions, I see m to be left alone. But I would not say, that I am alone, for the almighty Father, I trust, is with me, and has been my helper. And I feel a comfortable hope, that he will never forsake me. Blessed be his holy name, for enabling such a vile creature, as I am, to trust in him. In him I hope for happiness, through the glorious Mediator, whose blood is sufficient to take away all my sins, so that I may be presented spotless before a holy God. My unworthiness is no bar to my salvation, since Christ Jesus my Lord is infinitely worthy. My anchor of hope has been, for many years, cast with in the veil. My faith rests on the Rock of Ages, against which the gates of hell can never prevail. Though winds and waves have often beat heavily upon me, my anchor never has been, and, I trust, never will be moved. Notwithstanding the various trials of my life, I have never been left to renounce my hope, or to murmur against God, but would justify him in all he has laid upon me, considering his mercies to be much beyond all my afflictions. For his mercies have been new every morning; great has been his faithfulness every night. And now unto him, who has wrought all my deliverances, both spiritual and temporal, be ascribed the whole praise of my salvation. Amen.

Georgetown, June 6, 1798.

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