Part 4

For many years, she was subject to attacks of illness of a very trying character, in connection with which, she was brought as into the very furnace of affliction, and earnest were her prayers, that 'patience might have her perfect work,' and that through faith in the wisdom of her heavenly Father, she might become fully resigned to his holy will; and a sense of his supporting power and presence, were often mercifully granted to her, in times of severest suffering.

Her last illness was short: two days previous to her decease, she remarked, "I have had an awful night," but added, "my mind is calm and peaceful, I can now _quite_ say, 'Thy will be done;'" and to the remark, "His grace is sufficient for thee," she replied, "Oh yes! and without that, we can do nothing; I cast all upon Him, and can say, I fully trust in His will, and in His power."

JOSEPH SEFTON, _Liverpool_. 66 12mo. 15 1849

SARAH SEWELL, _Wereham_, _Norfolk_. 85 11mo. 4 1849

GEORGE SHAW, _Clonmel_. 68 12mo. 22 1849

SUSANNA SHEPPARD, _Mile End Road_, _Middlesex_. 97 4mo. 16 1850

BETTY SHIPLEY, _Derby_. Widow of John Shipley, of Uttoxeter. 86 2mo. 3 1850

MARGARET SIKES, _Ashburton_, _Ireland_. Wife of William Sikes. 48 5mo. 4 1850

ALICE SILL, _Kendal_. 82 6mo. 1 1850

GEORGE SIMPSON, _Birkenhead_. 58 7mo. 5 1850

SUSANNA SMITH, _Drynah_, _Mountmelick_. Widow of Humphry Smith. 80 11mo. 19 1849

MARY SMITH, _Darlington_. 77 3mo. 2 1850

ABIGAIL SMITH, _Preston_. 70 5mo. 12 1850

HANNAH SMITH, _Walton_, _Liverpool_. Wife of Henry H. Smith. 58 1mo. 23 1850

CASSANDRA SMITH, _Birmingham_. Died at Dover. 49 9mo. 27 1849

JOHN SMITH, _Winchmorehill_. 77 7mo. 11 1850

ELIZABETH SNOWDEN, _Bradford_. Daughter of John and Ann Snowden. 21 7mo. 21 1850

MARY ANN SPARKES, _Exeter_. 41 2mo. 3 1850

ELIZA COLE SPARKES, _Exeter_. Daughter of Thomas and Esther Maria Sparkes. 1 4mo. 29 1850

JOSEPH SPENCE, _York_. An Elder. 75 9mo. 26 1850

CHARLES SPENCE, _Darlington_. Son of Charles and Hannah Spence. 6 12mo. 8 1849

MARY SPENCER, _South Lodge, Cockermouth_. 69 6mo. 30 1850

WILLIAM SQUIRE, _Stoke Newington_. 59 3mo. 24 1850

DORCAS SQUIRE, _King's Langley_, _Hempstead_, _Herts_. 67 1mo. 9 1850

CATHERINE DYKE STADE, _Aberavon_, _Glamorgan_. Daughter of J. and R. D. Stade. 6 11mo. 26 1849

SUSANNA STANILAND, _Hull_. 78 8mo. 26 1850

JAMES STEEVENS, _Basingstoke_. 59 2mo. 25 1850

MARY STRETCH, _Nantwich_. Widow of Richard Stretch. 80 3mo. 25 1850

ELIZABETH STRETCH, _Finedon_. Widow of Samuel Stretch, of Hortherton, Cheshire. 75 2mo. 27 1850

SARAH TACKABERRY, _Ballygunner_, _Waterford_. Widow. 88 5mo. 12 1850

GEORGE NORTH TATHAM, _Headingley_, _Leeds_. 78 5mo. 19 1850

JAMES TAYLOR, _Heston_, _near Brentford_. 79 2mo. 7 1850

BENJAMIN THOMPSON, _Spring Hill_, _Lurgan_. 77 3mo. 19 1850

THOMAS THOMSON, _Dublin_. Son of Benjamin and Sarah Thomson. 23 11mo. 21 1849

PHILIP H. L. THORNTON, _Sidcot_. Son of William and Catherine Thornton. 22 6mo. 5 1850

The subject of this memoir was a native of Kingsbridge, Devonshire; and was educated among Friends. He was not by birth a member of our Society, but was received into membership a short time previous to his death. Having been adopted by his uncle, he was taken to Ireland, when about fourteen years of age, as an apprentice to one of the Provincial Schools, of which his uncle was the superintendent.

Endowed with natural abilities well adapted for the acquisition of knowledge, and possessing a taste for various branches of literature and science,--gifted, too, with engaging manners and affability of disposition, he became, as he grew up, a general favourite amongst those with whom he associated, and his immediate relatives indulged in fond hopes of his becoming an honourable and useful charter. His best friends, however, were sometimes anxious on his account, lest the caresses of the world should turn aside his feet from the path of safety, and prevent that entire surrender of heart and life to the requirements of the gospel, which alone consists with true Christian discipleship, and affords a well-grounded expectation of real usefulness and permanent well- being. But he was open to receive the admonitions of his friends, and there is reason to believe that the voice of Christian counsel was instrumental to his good.

He was never very robust; and his application to study, in addition to his stated duties, was, perhaps, not favourable to bodily vigour. Before the expiration of his apprenticeship, he became so enfeebled, as to cause his relations much anxiety; and as his uncle and aunt had withdrawn from the Institution, the Committee of the School kindly acceded to their proposal to remove him to their own house. Here he soon rallied; and in the summer, of 1848, applied for the situation of teacher of Sidcot School. He entered upon the duties of the station with earnestness and zeal; and the notice and encouragement which he there received, tended both to render his occupation a delight, and to draw forth the more hidden depths of his character. His heart was in his work, and the field of labour particularly congenial to his taste.

A few months, however, sufficed to bring on a return of delicacy, and rendered it advisable that he should retire for a while from active duty; but the following year, apparently with renovated powers, he again resumed his post. For a while, he appeared to think that his health was becoming confirmed; but about the commencement of another year, he was rapidly brought low, and nearly disqualified for the performance of his school duties. He was however retained in his office, with delicate attention to his known wishes, until in the 4th month, 1850, he was obliged to withdraw, and again make his uncle's house at Mountmelick his home. The following extracts from letters and memoranda written previous to his leaving Sidcot, show the state of his mind at that period.

2nd mo. 10th. "I often feel,--oftener than ever, that the thread of life is in me weak,--very weak; and, oh! I am sometimes almost overwhelmed with the retrospects, and prospects, this feeling opens to my view. I feel that I have been pursuing false jewels, sometimes those which have no appearance even of external brilliance, and the _Pearl_ has escaped my notice. I have, I believe, earnestly desired that I may be enabled to see the true and real beauty of the Pearl, and its inestimable value, in such a light, that nothing may again warp my attention from it."

2nd mo. 23rd, 1850. "My weakness of body, and frequent illnesses, have brought before my mind the great uncertainty of my continuing long in this scene of probation. I feel that I have lived hitherto 'without God in the world,' plunged in sin and darkness; that my sins are a greater burden than I can bear; and unless my all merciful God and Father, through his dear Son, forgive them, and relieve me from them, I fear they will draw me with them to the lowest grave."

"I believe my heart's desire is, to walk in the narrow way,--to be the Lord's on his own terms, and to be humbled even in the dust. The evil one suggests, that I can never be forgiven, and fills my soul with doubts and fears; but, oh Lord! thou hast said, 'He that cometh to me, I will in no wise cast out.'"

2nd mo. 24th. "Strong desires are in my heart, that I may be favoured with an assurance of forgiveness; but, oh! I fear that my repentance is not sincere, that the pride of the world still holds place in my heart. Oh Lord! I pray thee that thou wilt use thy sharp threshing instrument, and break in pieces all that is at variance with thy holy will."

"This is First-day. Be pleased to keep the door of my lips, Oh Father! and reign absolutely in my thoughts; grant that meeting may be a time of favour and visitation, and that I may be enabled to wait patiently for thee. Oh! that I could keep the world from pouring on me as a flood, at such times: Thou, gracious Father, canst enable me to do this."

3rd mo. 1st. "Struggles seem to be my portion, in which the world, the flesh, and the devil often seem likely to get the victory. Lord, grant through the blessed Saviour, that if I have found the good part, nothing may be permitted to take it from me. I greatly desire an increase of faith. Alas! I feel the little I have fail sometimes."

6th. "Oh! that none of the Lord's intentions respecting me, may be frustrated by my disobedience and unwatchfulness. Oh! I feel that I am indolent and very lukewarm, if not cold altogether, in attending to my soul's salvation, and in doing all for the Lord's glory. Thou knowest, oh Lord! that I am very weak in body; but, oh! grant that I may not make that a cover for indolence and lukewarmness. Thou hast known my peculiar trials, and I thank thee that thou hast, through the dear Lamb, granted me strength to bear them."

After his return to Mountmelick, this dear youth lived seven weeks, and during this time his company was most sweet and instructive; the tenor of his conduct and conversation being beautifully regulated by the influence of the divine Spirit, bringing, in great measure, as there was reason to believe, every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ; and the composure and serenity of his countenance, clearly indicated the sweet peace which pervaded his mind.

About the end of Fifth Month, it became evident that the final change was drawing near. This he was enabled to look to without dismay; saying, when a fear was expressed that he could not continue long: "I cannot say that I have any fear."

On the night of the 2nd of 6th Month, he said: "I wish I could feel a stronger assurance of acceptance with the Almighty;" and afterwards he requested to have the 23rd Psalm read to him.

The next morning, sitting up in his bed, he remarked: "There remaineth a rest for the people of God;" and, after a pause, "I want more of that faith, of which I fear I possess so little; and yet, when I have asked for what was proper and needful for me, it has not been denied. I desire to be enabled to pass through the valley of humiliation, without much conflict; and then comes the valley of the shadow of death:--only a shadow! the finger of God will guide safe through, all those who put their trust in him: 'Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.' The rod to chasten, the staff to support! Oh! all that is of the world, and all that is in it, are worthless in my sight. If the Lord has any work for me to do on earth, I trust I am willing to do it; but if not, I have no wish to stay."

In the afternoon, the beloved invalid broke forth with the following expressions: "The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want;" emphatically adding, "What a very precious promise!" and, after a short pause,--"Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord, though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow, though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool," remarking, "and this was under the old dispensation. Oh! I hope my sins are gone beforehand to judgment; but there seem to be so many fresh sins, I have so much time that I do not improve as I ought; but the poor weak body and this weak mind too!" On its being remarked, that we did not serve a hard master, he seemed comforted, and continued, "Oh! that I could see the pearl gates; but I fear I have not faith enough, nor love enough to love Him perfectly who first loved me, and died for me, yes! even for _me_! Oh! I desire to throw myself at his feet; how I wish I could love him better, and serve him more."

The whole of Fourth-day he seemed fast sinking, and calmly spoke of death as very near. He craved for patience, again and again, making use of many sweet expressions as his end drew near. "O Jesus! sweet Jesus, come!" and placing his hands together, supplicated thus: "Oh, dear Lord! if it be thy will, be pleased to take me, for the sake of thy dear Son." And, again, "Thy will be done." He remarked, "I believe I am passing through the dark valley of the shadow of death;" and on the hope being expressed that he would be supported through, he responded, "Through mercy!" Soon after this, he sank into a quiet sleep, which lasted some hours; and, shortly after waking, the unfettered spirit took its flight so gently, as scarcely to be perceptible to those around.

FRANCES HENSHAWE THORPE, _Overbury_, _Tewkesbury_. Widow of Thomas Thorpe. 65 10mo. 5 1849

WILLIAM TODHUNTER, _Dublin_. 46 1mo. 19 1850

SUSANNA TODHUNTER, _Dublin_. Widow of John Todhunter. 74 2mo. 2 1850

SUSANNA TODHUNTER, _Dublin_. Daughter of Thomas H. and Hannah Todhunter. 1 8mo. 30 1850

CATHERINE TOMS, _Amersham_. 67 1mo. 8 1850

ALEXANDER TOWNSEND, _Rathrush_, _Kilconnor_. 70 12mo. 7 1849

CROUDSON TUNSTALL, _Alvaston Grove_, _Nantwich_. An Elder. 68 11mo. 17 1849

Dedication to the cause of truth, marked the character of our dear friend; and divine grace wrought effectually in him--breaking the obstructions of the natural mind--smoothing the rugged path of life, and enabling him to rejoice in the mercy which followed him, and which was his support through many tribulations.

It was his earnest desire to know _in himself_ a growth in the truth, and to have his building firm on the Rock of ages. His diligence in the support of our meetings for worship and discipline, and the reverent frame of his spirit in these meetings, was animating and exemplary to his friends, as was also his daily circumspect walk. The chastenings of divine love produced profitable experience, and being accepted by him, with humble gratitude and prayerful submission, his heart was enriched by spiritual blessings. When near the confines of time, and the power of utterance nearly gone, he was reminded by a friend of the faithfulness and tender mercy of our Saviour, when he emphatically replied,--"_That_ is my only comfort." Thus under the rapid decay of the outward man, he possessed a peaceful mind, in that blessed hope which had been in his day, as the anchor to his soul--"sure and steadfast."

THOMAS WADDINGTON, _Penketh_. 49 9mo. 3 1850

JOHN WAITHMAN, _Yealand_. 49 11mo. 2 1849

MARIA WALKER, _Wooldale_, _Yorkshire_. Daughter of Samuel Walker. 24 10mo. 18 1849

HANNAH WALKER, _Dirtcar_, _Wakefield_. Wife of Robert Walker. 68 4mo. 3 1850

BARBARA WALLER, _York_. 70 11mo. 13 1849

The quiet acquiescence of this dear friend, in the divine will, under changes of circumstances involving, to her energetic and lively mind, much suffering, appeared to many of her immediate friends, deeply instructive. In early life, she was, for several years, resident in the family of her brother Stephen Waller, at Clapton; and during the long continued illness of his wife, took charge of the family, including an interesting group of young children, between whom and herself the tenderest affection subsisted. On the restoration of her sister's health, she came to reside with her brother Robert Waller, of York.

In the First month, 1829, at the solicitation of the committee, she consented to undertake, for a time, the domestic care of the Boys' School, then first established by York Quarterly Meeting, in that city. Though in delicate health, and with a voice which she could rarely raise above a whisper, she soon became so warmly interested in the institution, as to prevent the necessity for further inquiry for a female head. Her active and executive mind, found here a large field of usefulness, which she well occupied. Her kind interest in the institution, the scholars and the officers, increased from year to year. Her ability in providing for and securing the comfort of all around her, always conspicuous, was eminently so in times of sickness, whether of more or less severity. On these occasions, besides her power of skilfully ministering to physical comforts, her quiet spirit, knowing where she herself had sought and found consolation, could direct others to the same unfailing Source.

At the close of the year 1836, in consequence of the decease of her sister Hannah, the wife of Robert Waller, she was called from the scene of her arduous, yet to her, pleasant labours; the beneficial results of which were, the establishment of orderly arrangement, and plans of domestic comfort, essential to the well-being of a school. She remained with her brother at Holdgate, till the time of his second marriage, when change was again her allotment. After a short absence from York she finally settled there. Her declining health rendered repose needful, although the liveliness of her spirits enabled her greatly to enjoy frequent intercourse with her friends;--and the school, the scene of her former labours, was an object of continued affectionate interest.

In recording these few incidents, which we well know, of themselves, are of little importance, perhaps entirely insignificant to the general reader, we believe, nevertheless, that a useful lesson may be conveyed. The path of our dear friend was, remarkably, not one of her own choosing; most of the changes of place and circumstance which she experienced, involved much that was painful; yet under all, the quiet, peaceful, thankful resignation which she was enabled to attain, shewed where her hopes were anchored, and proved the power of divine grace to make hard things easy. For many months previous to her decease, she was confined to her couch, and latterly to her bed. During this period, she bore with unrepining patience, much bodily suffering; but her cheerful and energetic mind still retained its characteristic vigour. In this, her last illness, the kind attentions, and tender cares, which she had so often ministered to others, were abundantly repaid to herself. In addition to the assiduous and faithful services of the family with whom she had taken up her abode, and who became warmly attached to her, she had for many weeks previous to her decease, the tenderest attention of one of her affectionate nieces, of whose infant years she had been the watchful guardian.

A friend who frequently visited her on her bed of suffering, says, "In some of my last visits to her, her expression of firm and loving reliance upon the Lord, whose support she had been wont to seek in the time of health, as well as in that of suffering, was a sweet testimony to the blessedness of having made him her portion. She told me how comforted she had been under great bodily weakness, when she felt unable definitely to put up her petitions, in the lively remembrance that she had a never- failing Advocate with the Father, touched with a feeling of her infirmities, ever living to make intercession for her. 'Oh!' she remarked, 'the sense of it has been precious to me.'" Thus peace and thankfulness were the frequent clothing of her spirit, till her earthly house of this tabernacle was quietly dissolved, and exchanged, we reverently believe, for 'a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.'

ALICE WALLER, _The Howe_, _Halsted_. Widow of Robert Waller, of York. 76 6mo. 25 1850

Of the childhood of our friend we know but little. Her parents were members of our religious Society, and brought up their children in conformity with its practices. She was, at rather an early age, placed at the school for girls at York, which had, at that time, some peculiar advantages in regard to the religious and moral care of the pupils. But from this enclosure she was soon recalled, to be the companion of her invalid mother; and at the early age of sixteen, when her beloved parent was removed by death, she took the charge of her father's domestic concerns, and resided with him till her marriage with Benjamin Horner of York.

Although the shortness of the period she remained at school, might be disadvantageous to her in several respects, yet it is highly probable that, in her mother's sick chamber, some impressions were made, and lessons learned, which were as seeds sown to bring forth fruit in a future day.

Her husband's circle of acquaintance was an extensive, and, in its character, a much varied one; and, for some years, Alice Horner mingled much in gay society, occasionally frequenting with her husband places of amusement, especially those in which music formed the chief attraction. But during this period, in which she may be said to have lived to herself, she was not without compunctuous visitations; and as the responsibilities of a mother came upon her, she increasingly felt the seriousness of life, and the duty, as well as the privilege, of living to God, and being enabled to look unto Him as a Father and a Friend.

These feelings appear to have gradually gained ascendancy in her mind, and her prevalent desire became, to be a Christian upon Christ's own terms. She felt herself as one who had been forgiven much, and therefore loved much,--striving to be no more conformed to this world, but transformed by the renewing of her mind. Her conscience became not only enlightened, but tender; and yielding to what she believed to be her duty to God, she not only refrained from all the public amusements in which she had formerly taken pleasure, but acted in her associations with others, consistently with her views as a Friend. If in this strait path; walking much alone and inexperienced in the way: she sometimes erred, we believe it was rather on the side of decision, than on that of undue yielding. She seemed to live under a sense of that saying of the apostle, "Whatsoever is not of faith is sin." And whilst the course which she pursued could not fail to restrict, in some degree, her intercourse with the world, those with whom she still associated, (and her circle continued to be a wide one,) appeared in general to estimate her motives; and many of them entertained an increased love and respect for her character; and He who, above all things, she desired to serve, was pleased abundantly to comfort and strengthen her in all her trials.

The death of her only daughter, at the age of nineteen, as well as that of her husband after a short illness, a few years subsequently, were close trials to her; but she bowed in humble submission to these dispensations, and, under the chastening hand of the Lord, it became increasingly evident, that the "one thing needful" was steadily kept in her view. She was diligent in her attendance of our religious meetings, and often remarked, that she had been permitted to find in them "a resting place to her soul."

After her second marriage, with Robert Waller of Holdgate near York, her health, which for a long time had not been strong, began more rapidly to decline, and at the death of her husband, after a long and protracted illness, she was so complete an invalid, as to be chiefly confined to her bed for many months together. This was a great trial upon her faith and patience; but her hope and trust in her Saviour's love never forsook her, and often through her long illness, she was enabled to look forward with hope and joy to that time, when "absent from the body," she should be "present with the Lord."