bably fresh in the remembrance of many Friends in the
United States.

_8th Mo. 24th_. The great parting is over: the love
and mercy of our heavenly Father sustained my
dearest father and mother beyond expectation. On
this occasion, when I have been helped back from
a sad, lone wandering on barren mountains, I may
learn, more deeply than ever before, the safety, the
sweetness, of dwelling in the valley of humiliation.
Oh, let me dwell there long and low enough. I ask
not high enjoyments nor rapturous delights; but I
ask, I pray, when I can pray at all, for quiet, watchful,
trustful dependence upon my Saviour.

_8th Mo. 27th_. We have had a ride in the country
this afternoon, and during a solitary walk of a mile
and a half I had very sweet feelings. Jesus seemed
so near to me and so kind that I could hardly but
accept of him. But then there seemed some dark
misgivings at the same time; as if I had an account
to settle up first,--something I must do myself; the
free full grace seemed too easy and gratis to accept
of. But all this I found was a mistake. I thought
of the lines--

"He gives our sins a full discharge;
He crowns and saves us too,"

and of a remark I had seen somewhere, "Look at
Calvary, and wilt thou say that thy sins are _easily_
passed by?"

This evening in my _andachtzimmer_,[1] I wished to
pray in spirit; but not a petition arose that I could
offer. I felt so blind, and yet so peaceful, that all
merged into the confiding language, Father, _Thy will_
be done!

[Footnote 1: Devotional retirement.]

_9th Mo. 2d_. On First-day, the twenty-first, I had
a great struggle on the old poetry-writing question.
I had written none since the great fight last winter;
but now to my dearest father I ventured to write,
thinking I had got over the danger of it. But when
all was written, I was forced to submit to the mortification
of not sending it. The relief I felt was indescribable,
and I hope to get thus entoiled no more.
My scruple is not against poetry, but _I_ cannot write
it without getting over-possessed by it. Therefore
it is no more than a reasonable peace-offering to
deny myself of it. * * * "And now, Lord,
what wait I for?" Enable me to say, "My hope is
in thee." It seems as if the path would be a narrow
one; but, oh, "make thy way straight before my
face;" and, having enabled me, I trust, to _g