I was benefitted among the dear people; but my body was much wearied when I returned home, and the folio wing day I was very unwell:  yet my mind was peaceful.  At the entreaty of my husband, I remain at home to-day; being only very feeble.  O shut me not out from Thy presence; but feed me with heavenly manna.—­I hail the returning Sabbath, Glory, glory be to God, the sacred fire is kindled in my heart.  Well might the Psalmist say, ’I would rather be a door-keeper in the house of my God, than dwell in the tents of wickedness’ The Lord does carry on His work in my soul.  Love destroys fear.  God is my portion, and in Him will I trust.  The week has been mixed with trial and blessing.  Monday:  Penelope left us, after a visit of ten days.  Tuesday:  Felt it good while Mr. Crowther admonished us to look to Jesus.  Wednesday:  Our servant left us:  I had power to pray for her after she was gone.  Thursday:  The Lord was with us at our little meeting.  Friday:  I spoke unadvisedly with my tongue, which occasioned pain of mind; but applying to Jesus, I found access.  O the condescension of the Saviour!  The prayer-meeting was a blessed season.  Saturday:  A day of toil, but the Lord was with me:  yet I want a constant mind, that I may every moment hold converse with my God.  ‘Keep thyself pure’ was the admonition of the Spirit one morning this week.  May I ever remember it.”

[The following was the dying complaint of the “Miscellany,” a little family periodical, which had a brief, but happy existence.]

  Confident, on airy wing,
    My vanity soared high;
  Like the nightingale I’d sing,
    And with the eagle fly. 
  Soon my sad mistake I found;
    I warbling notes had none,
  And scarcely rose above the ground,
    Before my plumes were gone. 
  Flatt’ry whispered soft and low,
    Of wisdom, fame, and lore;
  Woe is me! neglected now,
    The pleasant dream is o’er. 
  Pity, then, my humble state,
    And if you can bestow
  Tears upon my hapless fate;
    Pray let them freely flow.

“I have around me some who exercise my patience, and therefore need the wisdom of the serpent, and the meekness of the dove, that I may be preserved from offending.  Last Sabbath, I was tempted to mistrust Providence, as I had not seen a rainbow since the rains commenced; but the following evening—­accompanying my husband to York in a very heavy shower—­on our left, we saw the broadest and most beautiful bow I ever beheld.  I could not help thinking it infinite condescension in the great I AM thus to remove my scruples.—­I walked to York alone:  but surrounded by proofs of divine wisdom and power, my solitude was sweet; my thoughts meandered like the river, that swept at my side.  Reverting to past scenes and circumstances, I wrote with my pencil: 

  If, through scenes of tribulation,
    Lies the pathway to the skies;
  Let me yield with resignation,
    Sure, Thy ways are always wise.