that meeting until the fourth hour in the afternoon. We attended the burial, where was a great number of people. It was strange to me to see the corpse brought into the meeting house.

Here I could but admire, as well as at other places, since I found my Beloved, that I had so much. of the tongue of the learned, in describing the gradual steps of a Christian on his way to heaven, in a moving deliberate way, without rashness, in the littleness and simplicity. I am afraid of thinking myself of use among my brethren. It is enough for me to know most certainly, that He whom my soul loveth is with me; and promises to be with me to the end, in the path I do know I am now in. I am often afraid, on finding myself much spent, both in body and mind, lest my Beloved is about hiding himself from me again. I am also often surprised, in seeing the people shew more respect to me, than others of greater account in Society. Such caresses are trifling to me, when I remember the bitterness of the wormwood and the gall; of which I had a large draft, before and since I left home.

The Yearly Meeting ended last evening. My companion is about leaving me now; his company has been so agreeable to me, that it is hard for us to part. A friend of Long Island opened his concern to bear me company to Rhode Island, with my consent, and Friends' concurrence. I did not know the friend: He had heard that John was to leave me in York. I found he was much esteemed among his friends, and had their free concurrence; Jacob Willits is his name. He is in the station of an elder. We are to meet on second-day next, at Westchester, twelve miles from this place. I remember thy ask

ing me at several times about my expectation of returning home. I do not remember of giving thee much of an answer; neither can I at this time;--but I have reason to believe, far from the time of thy expectation. When I write to thee again, it is likely it will be from New Bedford, Massachusetts; and I should be glad to find a letter there from thee.

I have thought that there are few, if any fathers, who have more love and tender affection for a wife and children, than I feel for you; and yet cannot count it a hardship to travel on, let the path be ever so rough, when I see the way so clear before me, if I do not return home before the next winter.

My love to thee is deep and sincere. Also to my dear children, all equally beloved of their ancient father,

ABEL THOMAS.

To T. and M. W.

BELOVED FRIENDS,

10th month 1st, 1813.

I am at this time at Providence, Rhode Island, in good health, and have so been since I left your house. I may inform you that I have had a prosperous journey so far, and have laboured through almost all the meetings belonging to this Yearly Meeting. In a few days I shall travel towards New York State, taking in my way, Pomfret and Kenford, towards New Milford and Oblong; then, taking the meetings of Friends on to Danby and Ferrisburg, and return back to Granville, Queensbury, and down the west side of the river to Marlborough, the meetings thereaway, to Cornwall and

New Windsor, then cross the river to New York, and so return home to my family.

Although I have had a prosperous journey, it has been a rough one; under which I have been almost ready to faint; but He whom my soul loved more than all here below, did interfere, and make hard things easy, and bitter things sweet; because he did know that I was doing all I could to please him. I do feel myself satisfied, and richly paid for all the little services he has required of me. It is not very likely, I have accomplished more than half the visit set before me last spring was a year. I let no one know, not even my wife, the extent of my visit, until I was, as it were, raised from the dead, in your city; when my Master let me know that he would go with me; which promise he has fulfilled to this day, which is consolation great to me, insomuch that I feel no desire nor inclination for home, to see my wife and children. I have so far followed the path that was pointed out to me, more than one year past, without erring, to my knowledge, either to the right hand or to the left. I do see the path as clearly opened before me, as in the beginning, and it is my greatest pleasure to walk in it, without being any way disturbed at what might befall this body in a cold freezing winter. My friends, wherever my lot is cast, both young and old, show a great deal of respect for me.

From what is above written concerning my wife and children, do not judge that I esteem them lightly. I cannot judge that there is any husband amongst men, that has a more near and dear affection for a woman, than I feel for her, and my children. But this I will mention from certain knowledge, that I

love my Master, more than wife or children, house or land, or any created thing in this lower world. When he is pleased to hide his face from me, for the increase of my love to him,-my wife and children are of little account to me,-neither all the world, nor the glories and pleasures thereof.

My esteemed friend Moses Brown, and his sonin-law William Almey, have purchased a new and convenient carriage for me to ride in, to take it home to be my own, wherein I can shut myself up from the rain and the snow. The little horse well harnessed, is very tractable in it. I find it easier for him, than carrying me on his back, and much more so for me; a four wheel carriage not being easily overset. It is a new invention, not long in fashion; I never saw the like in our country.

I do desire one of you to write to my wife, and let her know I do intend to write to her when I come to Hudson, on the North river. It may be four weeks first. I do expect that my wife will be at the Yearly Meeting at Baltimore; and if this comes to your hand in time, (as likely it will) send it by some friend of your city attending that meeting. If not, direct it to William Riley, where she makes her home. I may say in sincerity, I am united in love to you and your children, more than I can find words to express-I often feel you near to my heart.

And, dear friend T. one thing more I desire thee to oblige me in; and that is, if any of my people inquire where I am, and what I am about so long from home, tell them, that the old pedlar is moving about, all weathers, from house to house, and from one meeting to another; frequently offering his goods

at public sale. And although he had a very small pack when he left home, it was so unaccountably heavy, that he could not walk straight under it; but thus far, as he has continued faithful, he has parted with a great quantity of goods. And also it must appear admirable, that he cannot perceive his pack is in the least diminished, but considerably more goods in it; so that he judges he has as good an assortment of goods, as almost any in his occupation, and although not so flashy, yet proved to wear as well. Whether it is the profit from the sale of his goods, or whether he has grown stronger, he must leave: however, his pack being much larger and fuller of goods, he says he can carry it along with ease, and walk straight up, without groaning, or being in the least weary. And as the old pedlar does know most certainly that the goods are not his own, but a living profit is allowed him in the sale thereof, he is anxious to make what he can to himself. But the poor pedlar is much disappointed in the sale of his goods, for his Master will not suffer him to carry the key of his pack. When he comes to the market among his customers, he must there wait in stillness until his Master gives him the key; and he sometimes stays long, and sometimes comes not at all. The poor pedlar is then low, seeing his customers out of patience, laying all the disappointment on him, and saying, why did he call us here to buy, and not offer his goods for sale. Truly, from the reasonings of man, it is provoking,―truly the poor pedlar cannot help it, he is so little, so unlearned, and so ignorant, that it is not worth his while to attempt to make a temporary key, that he might open his pack when he pleased. But I did not under