we met a gentleman on a mule, and by his side | their different views are given in the spirit of was walking a peasant woman with a long stick, brotherly kindness and charity, we think no with which to goad the mule on to activity. harm can arise-but the result may be to exThey passed on--so did we; and on our return we again saw the woman astride of the mule pand the understanding and dispel prejudice. and on a full trot. She recognized us, remarked In scanning error, Truth may be more fully on our long stay in the place, and then wished comprehended and embraced. The man who us "bon jour," and trotted off as independently habitually makes Truth the guide of his life, becomes gifted with a superior wisdom, and is not likely to err upon matters of vital import

FRIENDS' INTELLIGENCER. ance; but even he should be watchful, that he

presumes not upon previous knowledge, and that he keeps his mind open to the teachings of the hour. "I have many things to say unto you, but ye cannot bear them now," may equally apply to the disciples of Christ at the present day, as when uttered by the blessed Jesus to his immediate followers. Who then shall limit the unfoldings of Christian light and knowledge.

We consider it essential for the health and growth of a religious body that its members should possess the freedom which the Truth gives; and this is the liberty which we would accord to all, with the desire that in its use it may not be abused.

day schools are progressing nicely, and we en-
joy them."

MARRIED, on the 16th of Fourth month, 1867, in Half Moon Township, Centre Co., Pa., by Friends' ceremony, at the house of John Way, DAVID MATTERN to MARY M. WAY, daughter of John and Mary Way. -, on the 5th of Twelfth month, 1867, with the approbation of the Monthly Meeting of New York, at the residence of Charles M. Carpenter, Brooklyn, HENRY T. WILLETS, of Manhasset, Long Island, to SOPHIA UNDERHILL, of the former place.

DIED, on the 24th of Tenth month, 1867, at his residence in Half Moon Township, Centre County, Pa., ROBERT WAY, in the 79th year of his age, an Elder and member of Centre Monthly and Particular Meetings. He was a consistent member, much beloved by all who knew him.

on the evening of the 17th of Twelfth month, MARY BUNTING, daughter of Philip S. and Helen Mary Justice, in her 24th year.

on the morning of the 3d ult., in Schuylkill Township, Chester Co., Pa., ROLAND MONTOUR PEART, aged 28 years.

on the 19th of Twelfth month, 1867, MARY, wife of Ephraim Gardner, in the seventy-sixth year of her age; a member and Elder of Baltimore Particular and Monthly Meetings.

In the death of this our dear friend, we feel that

we have met with a sad bereavement, and that a

FRIENDS' PUBLICATION ASSOCIATION.
The Executive Committee will meet on Sixth-day
afternoon, First month 3d, 1868, at 3 o'clock.
LYDIA H. HALL, Cerk.

CHANGE OF HOUR.
The Monthly Meeting of Friends of Philadelphia
has changed the hour of meeting to 10 o'clock on
First-day and Fourth-day mornings at Race Street
Meeting-house, and at the indulged meeting at West
Philadelphia on First-day morning, until the 1st
of Fourth month next.

APPEAL FOR AID.

The Home for aged and infirm colored persons, No. 340 South Front Street, has an exhausted treasury, and an appeal is now made to Friends and others interested in this charity to forward their contributions to the Treasurer,

SAM'L R. SHIPLEY, 111 South Fourth, or to DILLWYN PARRISH, 1017 Cherry, STEPHEN SMITH, 921 Lombard, M. BALDERSTON, 902 Spring Garden, or any other of the managers.

The annual meeting of the contributors will be held on Fifth-day evening next, First month 9th, at 8 o'clock, in Liberty Hall, Lombard above Seventh, to which all are invited.

He that cannot forgive others, breaks the bridge over which he must pass himself: for every man has need to be forgiven.-Herbert.

From Friends' Quarterly Examiner.

A VOICE FROM SOUTHAMPTON.

explorers of the field of philosophy mapped out "Language is fossil history." So say the for us in the bygone ages. Is not this assertion true also in relation to places and spots named after historical events? But for these names, so indelibly attached, the history would be often almost forgotten, and the spot remain

void has been made in our midst not easily filled.
Being impressed in early life with the necessity of
living not only in unity with her friends, but in
union and communion with her Creator, she sought
His help, and was thereby qualified to perform all
the duties of life, as wife, mother, friend and neigh
bor. She was constant in attending meetings, and
encouraged all, by her example and precept, not to
neglect that important duty. Her judgment being
clear and abounding in the love of Truth, qualified
her for the important stations of Overseer and Elder,
which she filled with satisfaction and comfort to her
friends. We feel. in looking over her long and use-
ful life, that she might have adopted the language unnoticed. Language is in this sense an all-
of the apostle, "I have fought the good fight, I have
finished my course and kept the faith; henceforth
there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness."
Her gentle spirit has passed to the realms of eternal
bliss and joined the innumerable company that sur-
round the throne of God.

BALTIMORE, Twelfth mo. 23d, 1867.

LIBRARY ASSOCIATION.

H.

pervading photographer, fixing the lights and shades of history upon mountain and valley, green fields and ruined walls. Runnymede or Waterloo, Kenilworth or Carisbrook, are, to a vast mass of persons, clearer evidence of the scenes once enacted around them than that which musty books or unlocalized tradition can supply. "Why, I have seen the very spot where it happened," is, in effect, the summary proof often given concerning the truth of historical incidents. Nay, I have known people insist on the truth of that beautiful allegory of "the old man's home," because they had seen the pathway down which the wanderer strayed, and had rested upon the very style at Bonchurch upon which he sat.

Such were the ideas passing through my mind as, leaving the departing ship on her voyage to the stormy Cape, I saw the words "Canute Castle" inscribed upon a somewhat pretentiouslooking building facing the entrance to the Southampton Dock gates. The words at once recalled to me the legend of the great Canute rebuking his courtiers, which tradition says oc

curred on the very spot where we now stand. Jesque High Street, I recalled the fact that, in The incident is too well known to repeat, and a place now abounding with dissenting chapels yet too instructive to be forgotten in the his and schools, the same old writer tells us that tory of the old town. We know how, when one William Jennings "was twice imprisoned, the rippling sea refused to obey the behest of having been prosecuted in the Ecclesiastical the mighty monarch who spake to check the ris-Court for teaching school without the Bishop's ing tide's advance, his flattering attendants license!" stood abashed in the presence of their king, But the whole town is studded with such when he humbly confessed that God alone is archives, and localized through its streets and great, and refused thenceforth to wear a crown. its prisons, are these intolerant deeds of bygone The vein of historic incident thus unexpect- years indelibly photographed for the gaze of edly opened up, my imagination wandered back posterity. I passed the site of the old market into the olden time, and, forgetting modern place and the council chamber from whence the docks, steamers, and locomotives, ignoring tele-mayor and justices once dealt injustice without graph wires above and iron rails below, I saun- measure. The Mayor of Southampton seems tered on along the platform wall beneath the to have had a peculiar satisfaction in sending gateway of the old bridewell; the very place harmless men to prison. Thomas Willis, taken in which, two centuries ago, as that painstak at a meeting for worship, was by him sent to ing recorder, Besse, tells us, there were incar- prison, where he died after seven months' concerated twenty-two innocent Friends, for the finement, "contentedly laying down his life crime of being at an unlawful assembly,-to for his constancy in religion." In 1670 the wit, a Quaker's meeting; and he adds, alas! mayor sent constables to a meeting held at that in the same year eight women Friends George Embree's house, where they seized were also committed to this miserable prison for eleven men and several women; the men were refusing to take the caths! A year or two" sent to a stinking prison, where they were after, we again find some fifteen men and four women imprisoned at Southampton for "attending their religious meetings."

Gray and gloomy do the old walls now look in their striking contrast to the gay yachts and the sparkling waters of the animated harbor; yet, possibly in still stranger antagonism to the iron bars and outward gloom of this old prison house where the joyful praises which broke forth through walls and ceiling upwards unto heaven, from the lips and hearts of these pris oners of the Lord. "Rejoice and be exceedingly glad, for great is your reward," were words I doubt not uttered as well as felt by these well-versed Scripture readers.

We find at this period the Friends at Southampton were frequently pulled by force out of their meetings and imprisoned; and strange to me now was the reflection that these oppressed Quaker captives once looked out upon the same waters and changeless shore before me from those very windows within sight of which I now read the following public notice:

"At the request of a Minister of the Society of Friends, a Meeting for Worship will be held in their Meeting-House, in Castle Square, to which the public are respectfully invited."

Comment is needless. Let the mourners over the "good old times" look on this picture and then on that, and say upon which side the goodness mostly lies.

Oppressed in thought beneath the intolerant atmosphere of two hundred years ago, I failed to notice the modern features of the lively town, with the bow-windows and pleasant countenances for which the guide book tells us it is distinguished; but, turning up the pictur

kept six days," and they fined G. Embree £20 for his house, taking goods to the value of £36 to pay the fine. Even parish beadles were not beneath the notice of this furious zeal. W. Jennings, for refusing to take an oath on entering upon that office, was sent to Barragate prison, and confined there about three months, and John Strutt, also chosen a beadle, was imprisoned there ten weeks for a like offence. Many were imprisoned for "absence from the national worship," and Joseph Jones was sent to jail" for a pretended debt of £220 for eleven months' absence from the national worship!"

But the sufferer most vividly before my mind was Ambrose Rigge, who, the same faithful chronicler informs us

"As he was going to visit his friends in prison at Southampton, was seized on by a constable and other officers, and was by the mayor's order whipped in the market-place; then was he thrown down backward into a wheelbarrow, carried so up a part of the High Street, then thrown into a dung cart, and so sent away from tything to tything, and threatened that if he came again he should be whipped twice as much, burnt on the shoulder, and banished the land. Most barbarous (continues the historian) was this usage of an innocent man for no other offence than performing the Christian duty of visiting those who were in prison."

Barbarous indeed! Faint not thou bravehearted Ambrose! the story of thy sufferings shall live on when the very name of thy persecutors is buried in well-merited oblivion. Thou who hast thus sown in tears shalt reap in joy; for to such faithful visiting of the naked and

sick and imprisoned do the precious words attach, "Inasmuch as ye did it to the least of these, my brethren, ye did it unto ME."

But to proceed;-with this vivid narrative before my mind's eye, I wended my way up through the selfsame street, beneath the old archway of the "Barragate prison" (now the Bar-gate town-hall, within whose walls the free born citizens so often assemble to denounce in humanity and bigotry, and to welcome unfortunate exiles from many a foreign clime); onward through the Above Bar Street to the bounds were the tything ends, and the mayor's deputy consigned the patient Ambrose to the tender mercies of, perchance, a less bitter caretaker. And now at this very spot, turning my eyes to the left, I see, nestling beneath the tall elm trees, the "Quaker's burial-ground," as it is called in the old map of the town-a place in which, from its antiquity, the remains of some of these early sufferers very probably

rest.

two Justices of the Peace. They attended with many of the townspeople, in order to show their respect for the Quaker who is there buried." The words at once carried me back again to my former reverie, which the sweet repose of this little grave-yard had wellnigh banished. Strange indeed (I ejaculated) are the scenes enacted upon this earth when brought face to face without the intervening element of time! Two centuries ago the Mayor and Justices of Southampton ordered to be flogged and dragged at the cart's tail up through the long High Street and Above Bar, as far as the avenue before us, an honest Friend, well known and of good repute; they did it, not because he had committed any crime, but solely because he was a Quaker, and went to the town gaol to visit the suffering men and women who lay incarcerated on account of their non attendance at the national worship. Now, the same officials come voluntarily along the same highway, stop at the same spot, and stand before the grave of a fellow-professor of the ill-used Ambrose, listening to the preaching and prayer of other members of this sect, whom their predecessors gloried in despoiling; and, to crown all, There is something peculiarly soothing in the mayor himself is a "Hebrew of the Hecontemplating the soft grassy mounds of the brews," whom his predecessors in office would South of England burial grounds, especially unquestionably have now doubly fined-first, when undisfigured by huge gravestones and for not attending the national worship; secondfalse monuments. "The sepulchre was in a ly, for attending a Quaker gathering. Thus garden," we are told by the beloved disciple, (thought I) are the ways of Providence vindiand the harmony of this junction of tombs cated,-even "the wrath of man shall praise with evergreen shrubs, roses, and violets, whilst the solemn pines wave their tops in soft requiem above the sleeping dead, is touchingly exemplified in this quiet burying-place of the Friends. There stand the fir-tree, and the pine, and the box-tree together; "there shall the almond-tree flourish, and the voice of birds; yet man goeth to his long home, and the dust shall return to the earth as it was, and the spirit shall return unto God who gave it."

"There is a calm for those who weep,
A rest for weary pilgrims found,
Who softly lie and sweetly sleep
Low in the ground."

him." The unlimited brutality with which the early Friends were treated worked its own cure;-through their stripes and imprisonments, through their suffering lives and cruel deaths, do we now dwell at ease, reaping the fruits of their labors and of their constancy under trial. Through their struggles has the field of toleration been mainly won for us. Thankfulness to them, and gratitude to God, who had so overruled the past for our benefit, covered my spirit as I left the quiet restingplace of this once afflicted people, and returned to my quarters in the town, a wiser and sadder, and yet withal a happier man.

SPECTATOR.

BUSINESS THOUGHTS.

As I cast a look around upon the simple rec ords of" name, age, and date," and recognized thus the last resting place of not a few once dear to me, and honored of the Church, my eyes suffused with tears. "These all died in faith," were the cheering words echoed within my heart, and the soughing of the wind through the firs above broke upon my ear, Men are tempted to look on business as a swelling into sweet soft melody unto Him who matter to be pursued merely with regard to "giveth songs in the night," and before whom their own selfish interests. They do not see I now silently bowed my head and worshipped. that their toil and energy are but just one wheel But turning to where a pensive willow in the vast mechanism of industrial aud comspread its fresh-budding branches around the mercial enterprise, by which the world is com"graves of a household," I beheld one mound pacted together. He who thinks of work as upon which no grass was to be seen. "Three just the means of feeding and clothing himself days ago," said my informant, in reply to my and his household, degrades it. It is a thread question, "there stood around the open grave in the warp that invites the weaving industry of the Friend who lies beneath it, the Mayor of of the world. It is a telegraphic wire that is Southampton, with the late Sheriff, and one or linked to the vast system that covers all lands, by

which the race is drawn into sympathy and And tuneful songsters of the air, that safe brotherhood. We are building up all over the ad winged their flight to warmer climes, could not, globe the structure of a humanizing Christians in the summer-time, with their sweet melodies civilization, and to its grand and symmetrical completion all things tend. It is a nobler thing than the Athenian Parthenon or the temple of Solomon; and the million workers who contribute to it are, in separate spheres, all working together. One quarries, another chisels, another excavates, another combines; but if one is honorable so are they all; and whoever understands the meaning of God's providence in his lot, may carry about with him the ennobling consciousness that while he toils to feed his hunger, he is working, too, to bless the world. All toilers, moreover, are fellow-workmen are brothers; and while they toil, if they do it with consecrated aims, and under a sense of duty, are becoming educated as books and academies cannot educate them-educated to find more than gems and gold in every quarry; educated to the exercise of all the virtues of endurance and high effort, and the development of character in its most sterling form.

But if, instead of taking this view of business -instead of seeing in it God's wise appoint ment as an industrial ministry to the well being of the race, instead of accepting it as a duty which enables us to serve, and gives us the means of usefulness and beneficence, a man regards it as just the means of his own personal emolument and selfish advantage, then he sinks himself to the level of the ox that ploughs, or of the fox that burrows. His sordid soul gravitates to the clod, and his pursuit of business will be the worship of selfishness; it will be terably mean and loathsome. He will turn that which was meant as a ladder to climb, into a ladder to descend, and every new round of fortune that he adds to his estate will be a letting down of his manhood.-Hours at Home.

For Friends' Intelligencer.

RETROSPECTION.

with the Fringillas lingered round our doors
Salute our ears, yet snow-birds then
To gather carefully the crumbs, to them
A sumptuous repast, and in return,
Evincing seemingly their gratitude,
who cared for them-He also cares for us.
Offered their simple chirpings. There is One
The slow-retiring winter, with its storms
At length
Tempestuous, with its chilling winds that swept
O'er the blue fi lds of air, and snows
That had descended to enshroud the face
The lovely Spring-re urned as it was wont
Of ever-smiling Nature, passed away, and Spring-
To gather 'neath the sun's indulgent rays
The elements of growth for varied life:
And from their scaly coverings the buds
Opened into the light, and beautifully all
With loveliness again-the woodlands and the fields
Expanded then to bloom, clothing the earth
With verdure and with flowers of every bue
Delightful to the eye. O how, with raptured hearts,
Then might we take the pleasant morning walk!
And greater were the joy to go forth with the thought
These varied forms of beauty, and in each
That the great Being who had given all
Displayed a workmanship divine,
Designed for all His children here below
A joyous Spring-time in their round of years,—
For holiest of affections in the heart
A time for budding virtue,-fitting time
To spring forth and unfold in the pure light
And atmosphere of heaven.

Summer then came

With its full tide of sunshine to make glad
All nature with rejoicings; and their notes the birdg
Resounded through the woods, and lavishingly poured
From tree-top high and from low bramble-bush
To them that gather for the winter time
Their silvery strains of joy; while all the fields
unut-Promised abundant harvest. This is life;
The summer of our years (if they are not
Cut off untimely) must come on, and life,
Howe'er diversified, should picture then
of thoughts and aspirations and of loves
The promise of a rich and plenteous yield
Maturing for a higher sphere than this.

1st mo. 1st, 1868.
CHILDREN! ye

Who hailed rejoicingly the last New Year,
And ye who felt, wheu it came ushering in,
Some pang of sorrow which affliction brought,
That seemed untimely, to your peaceful homes,
To teach th' impressive lesson, life,
However promising its hopes, its smiles,
However fair, hath on its front inscribed
"Uncertainty below"-come, let us all,
In thoughtful mood, while Winter holds
His sterner reign without, gather around
The cheerful fireside now; review the past-
The bygone year-and from the circling change
Made by the rolling Seasons, haply draw
Some useful lesson to instruct the heart.

The Winter lingered long, yet while it held
Its sway and spread o'er all the fields,
The vallies and the woods its mantle white,

Autumn at last
Came on. The trees were laden now with fruit;
The harvest of the year all gathered in
For the approaching winter, sweet reward
And certain for the laborer's toil; and fading flower
And falling leaf, nipt by the chilling frost,
Proclaimed the closing year as drawing nigh.
Thus cometh on the autumn-time of life;
And in its progress through the mystic round
Of these unceasingly revolving years
Follow with silent footsteps slow Decay.
Well shall it be for us if when that change
Sooner or later Time will bring to all, is ours-
Ay, when the languid eye, the pallid cheek
And faltering step alike declare
The circuit of Life's Seasons well nigh run-
Well shall it be for us if we may feel
We have not lived in vain; and reap at last
(When all the varied changes have their end)
The rich reward of quietness within,
Of joy unspeakable, and know

In that concluding solemn hour, with us,
All will be well.

H. J.