been singular; and although he would wish that every preacher who followed him, in the society, might take his degrees where he took his, even on the back side of the desert, where the spirit of the Lord moved Samson in the camp of Dan;-yet it might afford some degree of encouragement to poor bewildered travellers, Zion-ward, if they could see the footsteps of some other, in that dreary waste; and know that he had got through-even into the enlargement of gospel light. He mentioned many of the subjects which are herein noted, and proposed that his visiter, at some future time, should commit them to writing, which he was willing to do, and desirous they should be in his own language. But time passed on. James removed to Frankford, and it was not done, though still kept in view, by the friend. An instance of the danger of delays!

The summer previous to his death, he performed several visits around in the neighbourhood, and appointed a meeting at the poor-house in Bucks county. When the messenger set out to procure said meeting to be convened, James appeared anxious to have it at that time; saying, he believed it would be his last opportunity, that his religious prospects appeared to be closing on every side.

A few months before his decease, the following brief communication, was delivered by him, near the close of the meeting held at Frankford.

"What I now am going to relate is but a simple story, and it is probable some of you may have heard me tell it before; but it has taken such possession of my mind, that I thought I would just drop it for your consideration. When I was a young man, there lived in our neighbourhood a Presbyterian, who was universally reported to be a very

liberal man, and uncommonly upright in his dealings. When he had any of the produce of his farm to dispose of, he made it an invariable rule to give good measure, over good, rather more than could be required of him. One of his friends observing him frequently doing so, questioned him why he did it—told him he gave too much, and said it could not be to his own advantage. Now, my friends, mark the answer of this Presbyterian. "God Almighty has permitted me but one journey through the world, and when gone, I cannot return to rectify mistakes." Think of this, friends;-but one journey through the world! The hours that are past, are gone forever, and the actions in those hours can never be recalled! I do not throw it out as a charge, nor mean to imply that any of you are dishonest, but the words of this good Presbyterian have often impressed my mind, and I think, in an instructive manner. But one journey!-we are allowed but one journey through the world; therefore, let none of us say, "My tongue is my own, I'll talk what I please, my time is my own, I'll go where I please; I can go to meetings, or, if the world calls me, I'll stay at home-its all my own." Now this won't do, friends. It is as impossible for us to live as we list, and then come here to worship, as it is for a lamp to burn without oil. It is utterly impossible. Now friends, I just drop it before we part, for your consideration. Let each one try himself, and see how it is with his own soul."

Through the course of the succeeding winter, he was frequently indisposed with a complaint in his stomach, which had attended him, at times, for some years,-appearing like a cramp;-though he

kept about, and frequently attended their meeting at Frankford. During which season, he was often low in his mind; frequently saying, "John doubted in prison"-that his prospects appeared closed on every side-and he appeared desirous, if his day's work was done, that he might be gathered to his everlasting rest, and not be continued, a burden to himself, his family, and his friends;-and he often expressed himself to this import.

The day previous to his decease, he with his saw, cut down a small tree in his yard; which action brought back his pain-so that he suffered much through the night, though not so as to require any attendance, by way of sitting up. The ensuing, being the morning of their week-day meeting, he told his wife, he would rather, if she was easy, that she should stay with him, and not go to meeting that morning;-that although he now felt better, he might be worse soon, and wished not to be alone. She informed him, she did not wish to leave him. After the close of the meeting, a neighbouring friend called to see what was the matter, that neither James nor his wife was there. He found him lying on the bed, with his clothes on. James said, he had been very poorly, during the time of the meeting, but then felt easier. The friend went home; but was almost immediately sent for back. On his return, he found him still lying on the bed; and he appeared to be composed, but said to him, "I believe I am going to leave you." A few minutes after, on his wife's coming in, he said, "my dear, I am going to leave you." His pulse being sunk, it then appeared probable to his friends, that the time was at hand. He appeared in supplication, that if his day's work

was done, his bands might be loosed, and he received into rest; and not continued to be a burden to his friends. Shortly after, he requested to be turned in bed, on which he said, "It is done-It is done."-After which, he breathed a few times, and quietly departed in a calm composure, with which his countenance was marked, even after the immortal spirit had left its earthly tenement.

In a conversation some years previous, on the solemn subject of death, James Simpson said, he wished to go out of the world, like a flash of lightning; apprehending his nature was unable to bear the prospect of death in its usual manner of approaching, with the fortitude of a Christian. This appears much in accordance with his last vocal petition. In the time of his usual health, when the subject was mentioned, or when any immediate danger appeared, James always manifested much fear of death,-until his last illness: then, all fear entirely vanished, and he closed with perfect calmness and composure.

His decease was on the 9th of the 4th month, 1811; leaving a solemn impression on the minds of his friends and acquaintance, that a prophet, and a great man was removed. Agreeable to which, a testimony was delivered at his funeral, embracing the view, that at the death of Samuel the prophet, all Israel mourned, from Dan to Beersheba. His age was about sixty-eight years.

While we consider the preceding Memoirs of the life of James Simpson, as only a brief sketch of his character as a man, and an eminent minister of the gospel, we are induced to believe that many other interesting and instructive Recollections and Anecdotes might be committed to writing, from the memories of such as were well acquainted with the excellencies of his mind. That there were ec

centricities and some singularities in his character is admitted, yet through and over all these, the purity and originality of his mind was often displayed in a remarkable manner; evincing, with clear demonstration, that the cause of Truth and righteousness, was dear to his heart. The instructive application of his parables, similes; and metaphors, drawn from common occurrences, from natural things, and familiar objects, was peculiarly impressive. It is thought many of these original comparisons, might yet be prevented from passing into oblivion, if now committed to writing, for the benefit of the present and succeeding generations.

The object of this Note is to encourage the gathering up of such other fragments concerning James Simpson, as may be interesting or useful to survivors.

A BRIEF MEMORIAL

Of the monthly meeting of New York, concerning Ann Byrd; with some extracts from her memorandums.

In our present memorial, we have not to record the account of one, who had attained to advanced age; but we have to advert to a character, perhaps not less animating, that of one, who, though comparatively young in years, was rich in faith, and who was mercifully enabled to lead, in a good degree, "an unspotted life."

Ann Byrd was the daughter of Joseph and Elizabeth Byrd, of New York, and was born on the 3rd of the 11th month, 1798. Her parents were engaged to imbue her mind with the love of piety, and they had the satisfaction of finding, that their solicitude was abundantly rewarded by her own clear perception of the superior importance of religious engagements.

From her childhood, she manifested a lively and tender sensibility; and although, as she grew in