may be multiplied and increase amongst you; and

am your friend and brother,

WILLIAM MATTHEWS.

Clonmel, in Ireland, 10th mo. 17th, 1783.

LINES

To the memory of Elizabeth Leggett, daughter of Thomas Leggett, of West Farms, who died in the City of New York, on the 25th of 1st month, 1835.

Through the ties that entwined thee, tho' painful to sever,
Thou hast burst-and the skies are thy dwelling forever!

Around thy low couch there was weeping and wailing,
While Seraphs thine entrance to Eden were hailing :
"Come away, come away! thou art passing the portal
Of Sorrow and Time-thou art now an immortal!
In the land of the seasons, autumnal and vernal,

There is change-but from henceforth thy joys are eternal.
Here the silver-hued moon is not waxing nor waning,
Nor the sun his bright splendor is losing and gaining,
But a full tide of glory, refulgent, is swelling

From the Throne, where the Ancient of Days hath his

dwelling!

Thou shalt join with the loved ones, who entered before

thee,

Who were not left behind, upon earth, to deplore thee;
Where anguish comes not, nor repenting, nor sinning,
Where the years have no end, nor the days a beginning.
Come away, come away! thou art passing the portal
Of Sorrow and Time-thou art now an immortal !"

Such sounds seemed (in vision) to break on mine ear, As I saw thy lov'd kindred encircle thy bier:

And the view, in my bosom, beamed clear as the day,
As the clod tumbled down, on thy pillow of clay;
And methought, as the weeping grew longer and loud,
That the gloom of the grave, and the pall, and the shroud
Were to them the dark symbols of sorrow and blight,
But to thee were the pathway to mansions of light!
So we weep, when a dark heap of ruins is made
Of the home where the feet of our childhood have played―
Though a far fairer mansion rise up in its place,

And be crowned with more beauty, and lightness, and grace!

Though the morning no more break in freshness for thee,
Nor the noon beam in brightness o'er meadow and lea,
Nor the twilight and pensiveness come with the even,
Nor the moon hang her urn of soft light in the heaven-
What of these?-thou hast left them without a regret,
For the land that thou liv'st in is lovelier yet;
And the ear hath not heard, and the eye may not see
The glories that wait us, if gathered with thee!

But say, from thy calm place of brightness above,

If to spirits be given mortality's love,

Does a ray of remembrance steal backward to earth,

To revisit the desolate home of thy birth?

Where thy father, whose locks are now blanching with

years,

Proves again that he treads a dark valley of tears;
And thy mother, of comfort bereft, and dismayed,
Still deplores the sad void which thine absence hath made—
That, in thee, the decree of decay is reversed,

And the child who should follow, hath faded the first!
May He heal up the wounds of the parents who mourn,
"Who tempers the wind to the lamb that is shorn ;"
And whisper thy kindred, by tones of His voice,
That are quiet, and clear, and convincing, " rejoice!"'
And impress on their minds, both of aged and youth,

With his signet of love, this unchangeable truth ;—
If they walk with an humble dependance and trust
In the highway of Holiness, marked for the just,
When a few fleeting seasons their courses have rolled,
The once scattered flock shall come home to the fold,
Where the weary from trouble are centred in rest,
And the wicked no longer the soul may molest!

Bright maiden, farewell!-On a far distant shore,
Where thy footsteps have wandered, in moments of yore,
There are those who remember the mildness and grace
That dwelt in thy movements, thy form, and thy face—
There are those who can feel for the bosoms that yearn
For the daughter who went, but who may not return—
Who would not let thee pass from the beings that live,
Without the faint tribute that friendship may give―
Who, if for a moment thy lot could be theirs,
Would scorn this cold earth, with its cankering cares;
Would quit the bright sun-the dominions of day—
And soar, with the wing of an eagle, away!

Through the ties that entwined thee, tho' painful to sever, Thou hast burst; and the skies are thy dwelling forever! R. H. T.

Letter from Owen Biddle to Clement Penrose.

Owen Biddle, the writer of the following Letter, resided in the city of Philadelphia. He was an active and zealous advocate for improvement in school education, and the literary instruction of the youth. In the prosecution of this concern, he was engaged during several of the latter years of his life; he wrote and published an outline of the advantages and benefits to be derived from a public boarding school; and he suggested a plan for the institution which was afterwards located at West-town in Chester county, and conducted under the care of the Yearly Meeting held in Philadelphia.

His nephew, Clement Penrose, at the time when the Letter was written, resided with his mother and step-father (who was a Swiss) at Berne, in Switzerland, whither they had gone on a visit-and to which place the Letter was directed.

Letter from Owen Biddle to Clement Penrose, residing at Berne, in Switzerland.

DEAR NEPHEW,

Philadelphia, 10th month 10th, 1789.

As I have written before to thy dear parents, this opportunity serves to pay some of the debt due to thee in the epistolary way. And as I have little knowledge of political or commercial subjects, in their present state, I omit these to communicate some useful hints for the government of thy future conduct through life, founded on some experience, and not the result of empty speculation.

The great object, dear Clement, that we ought to have in view, is to fulfil, in our journeying along through time, the intention for which we were called into being. That we are dependent creatures cannot be doubted; that we stand in need of a daily renewal of our strength, in order that we may act aright;-and that we need counsel and instruction to direct us in the right way, so as to fulfil the righteous intention of the Supreme Being respecting us, cannot be doubted. Hence it is that we are brought to seek unto him for a supply of those things which we stand in need of; either by prayer in the manner recommended by our Saviour, that of a retirement into our closets, or to wait upon him in a state of silent meditation and resignation to his will, until we find our minds quickened and animated with renewed vigour. This may be done, either by

ourselves, or in a congregated capacity: and there are many passages of Scripture which make it appear to have been the practice of the prophets and righteous men in all ages. To bring us to this it sometimes requires considerable disappointments; and I hope it is for thy spiritual interest that the early part of thy life has been a scene of adversity in degree.

Wisdom is of great value, and if we can but attain to the possession of it by this means, we shall have reason to rejoice that such a cup has been dispensed to us. Solomon has set forth in terms very inadequate to its worth, yet very beautiful, the advantages of wisdom, and the importance of an early acquaintance with her. Many and contradictory have. been the sentiments of mankind respecting wisdom, and the school in which she is to be obtained. But if thou wilt attend to the Scriptures throughout, thou wilt find that it is a principle within ourselves, that is to be sought after, not in the jarring and contradictory systems of men, or their voluminous productions, but from an experimental knowledge of the dealings of God with our souls. For, in order to make us acquainted with it, there is a necessity that we become attentive to what passes in our minds; that we observe the gentle reproofs, which we sometimes experience for our deviations, and be instructed by them. Thus speaks one of the prophets: "It is shown unto thee, O man, what is good; and what doth the Lord require of thee but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?" Hence we see the path is plain, and the way to instruction as accessible to the lowly cottager as to the greatest potentate. And the humble peasant