istant, and returned home the same evening. J. W. was very much favored
all the time he was in those parts; he really appears endowed with
astonishing powers.

The same letter affords a glimpse of the social position, which John and
Elizabeth Yeardley occupied at Bentham:--

We are very quiet, have kind neighbors, a very pleasant habitation, and
little society, plenty of books both of the religious and amusing kind,
and leisure to meditate on the one thing needful, which is to fit us for
that place to which we are fast hastening:--

"For who the longest lease enjoy
Have told us with a sigh,
That to be born seems little more
Than to begin to die."

(13_th of Seventh Month_, 1818.)

John Yeardley, no less than his wife, found in Bentham a seasonable
retreat from the harassing cares of the world. A memorandum made in the
autumn of this year shows that the doubts with which he was perplexed on
the subject of his removal from Barnsley, were entirely dispelled, and
that the change in his abode and position had been the happy means of
relieving him from the load of anxiety which once seemed ready to crush
him.

1819. 9 _mo_. 15.--The tender, merciful Father who shelters our heads
in battle has covered mine when many things were hot upon me. He has
provided a retreat for me until the fury of the oppressor be overpast. I
have often wondered at the cause which drove me from my former residence,
but I now begin to see pointedly the hand of Providence bringing me to
this place of quiet retreat. Should He who has brought me thus far see it
to be for my good to set me on the banks of deliverance, may I have no
desire to live for anything but to sing his praise!

After being recognised by the Church as a minister, he was again tried
with a season of spiritual desertion; and this phase in his religious
history, with his reflections upon it, and the holy resolution and hope
with which he concludes, may be useful in strengthening the faith of
others under similar circumstances.

10 _mo_. 4.--O what a stripping time have I had since I wrote last!
My pen would fail to set forth the inward desertion I have experienced for
months past, so that my poor mind is almost worn out with waiting and
watching in the absence of the Bridegroom of souls. My enemy seems to have
set up his throne in me, and leads my wandering thoughts captive at his
pleasure. I have no weapons of my own to fight him with,