to her own health also. In this place she met with many
strangers; the company residing there treated her with much affection
and respect. She always attended to the worship of God morning and
evening in her room, and was usually accompanied by some of the ladies
who boarded in the house. Her fund of information, vivacity of manner,
and the interest which she felt in the happiness of all around her,
made her society highly valued and pleasing. Few of those ladies who
stayed with her at Rockaway for any length of time, failed to express,
at parting, their esteem for her, and they generally added a pressing
invitation for a visit from her, if ever she should travel near where
they dwelt.

The following is one of her sweet meditations while at Rockaway:

"ROCKAWAY, August, 1809.

"Sweet health again returns, which, considering the agitation of
my mind, surprises me; but it is the Lord's pleasure. I did not wish
to recover. I was in hopes the Lord was about to deliver me from 'this
body of sin and death.' Lord, reconcile me to thy most holy will.
Health is certainly a great blessing. I feel its sweetness. O make me
thankful. Great and numerous are my mercies. Every thing pleasant and
every thing necessary to life, to godliness, is mine: food and raiment
to the utmost desires of nature; the beauties of thy fair creation
surround my ordinary dwelling; my dear little room, my Bible, and
books of every virtuous kind--by grace, thy chief mercy, I desire no
other--and by the kindness of my children, I possess all as if they
were my own personal property. By thy wonderful loving-kindness, thou
hast given me, instead of the contempt which I have merited, the love
and esteem of thy people, and thou hast made the very stones of
the field to be at peace with me, so that wherever I go I meet
with kindness."

To Mrs. Marshall.

"NEW YORK, October, 1809.

"I find your letter dated 'Elderslie'--the very name gives a
thrill to my old heart; in a moment the various scenes of my youthful
days rise before me--the old mansion itself, and all its beloved
inmates, every one of whom have now crossed the Jordan of death,
leaving me a solitary wanderer in this weary wilderness. Ah, I can at
this moment think of spots, by the burnside and the braeside, endeared
to my heart by a thousand tender associations. There have