tan had been disturbed, and was now mustering his forces. But, glory to God, he is a vanquished foe.

On Tuesday, Nov. 10, we left Spafford for Canandaigua. I preached once by the way, and on Saturday, met with the church in monthly meeting. We tarried nine days, and enjoyed some refreshing seasons. The brethren appeared more engaged than formerly, and some of their testimonies were spiritual and weighty. About two miles from the place of our meeting, a good revival was progressing among the Methodists.

On Sabbath, Nov. 22, 1829, I had the privilege of baptizing my companion. As some circumstances attending her conversion were rather remarkable, I have thought a short sketch of her religious experience introduced here, might not be altogether unacceptable to the reader, and I have hoped might be instrumental of good to some poor soul that may have

fallen into a like situation.

She was the eldest daughter of Capt. Daniel Turner, formerly of Arlington, Vt., now of Zorra, Upper Canada. Till the age of eighteen years, she resided mostly with her parents in Arlington, and attended school. She was taught to respect religion, and usually attended public worship with the Episcopalian church. After her parents removed to Canada, she spent nearly three years teaching school in Oxford. In March, 1829, a little before she was twenty-two years old, she was first brought seriously to feel her need of the Saviour. It was deeply impressed on her mind, that, if she did not immediately turn to God, she should be cast off for ever. Then she resolved to seek the Lord, and sighed for her neglect of the Saviour. Her sorrow increased, till she felt constrained to abandon her usual studies, and devote her whole time to reading the Bible, to meditation, and prayer. In about two weeks, while reading a sermon on the sufferings of Christ, she thought she could and would believe in the Son of God;-she thought she did believe, and her burden left her. For a day, she rejoiced, and indulged the hope that God had forgiven her all. But the next day, while reading the scripture, We

know that we have passed from death unto life, because we love the brethren," she thought her evidence was not clear, and that the change in her attachment to Christians was not such as they had experienced. So she resolved to renew her supplications as a penitent, lost sinner. She has since related her exercises on this occasion, as follows:

"Now, alas! I could not feel a sense of my sin. I laboured for it, but it could not be obtained. I tried to hope, but my spirit sunk, and I despaired. Every thing confirmed me in the belief, that there was no mercy for me. I regretted my existence-envied the idiot-and would have gladly exchanged places with the reptiles or plunged into non-existence. My food became loathsome, my sleep departed, and often when I took a drink of water, I thought I should soon be with the rich man in hell, where I could not obtain even one drop. Whole nights were sometimes spent in prayer, without any relief-ny flesh wasted away, and I drew near the grave. My friends looked on me and wept. I could not comfort them, for I was comfortless myself. Then I said, my life is useless, and I am a cause of grief to all that are dear to me.

Her parents, alarmed on account of her gloomy state, invited ministers of different denominations to converse with her, hoping it might be instrumental of her gaining some consolation. But all seemed to be in vain. Deep sorrow was depicted on her countenance, and she appeared extremely disconsolate. In conversation with one who visited her, she said: "I have not seen the magnitude of my sins in neglecting the Saviour; and now my heart is not susceptible of penitence. I think there is no mercy for me; not because God is a respecter of persons, or his grace insufficient, but because I have refused his mercy. I try to pray; my lips speak, but my heart will not draw near to God. Every effort seems to be useless, and all my former joys are fled. Still, I know it is not the love of the world that prevents me from coming to Christ; for could I have a thousand worlds by turning my hand over, I am confident I should not do it; yet if I could obtain an interest in Christ by pass

ing through the pangs of death ten thousand times, I would joyfully submit to these terms. But, alas! I believe there are but few days for me on earth; and while I have them, I am constantly reminded of their short duration, These reflections, at times, so affect me, that I tremble, and my strength fails." While making these statements, she wept profusely, and all her emotions seemed to exhibit a state of confirmed despair.

Upon this account of her state, the following scriptures were recited to her: "Come unto me all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. "Look unto me, and be ye saved, all the ends of the earth. "Thou shalt find him, if thou seek him with all thy heart and with all thy soul." "In the last

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day, that great day of the feast, Jesus stood and cried, saying, If any man thirst, let him come unto me, and drink. Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out. But," said she, these promises cannot apply to me. To come to God, we must have faith: whatsoever is not of faith is sin.'" C She was then exhorted to pray for faith. She replied, "I cannot pray acceptably; to pray with the lips only, is mockery. Once I might have prayed-but now my heart will not feel it cannot feel and how can I come to a holy God?" She was answered, repenting.' "I cannot repent," she replied: uine repentance is a deep sorrow for sin. True, I regret my neglect of God, and feel in some measure the miseries of sin.-And the damned in hell may do this; may feel as much, and more; but what does this avail them? surely, no more than it does me. I might have repented, if I would have improved my day; but now, I am only reminded that my probation is concluded, that after a few solitary days, I must lie down in eternal sorrow." But," it was replied, "God is longsuffering-not willing that any should perish;" and "his tender mercies are over all the works of his hands." She answered, True, and this increases my guilt; for I have rejected his longsuffering, and trodden upon his tender mercy. And I am now justly condemned, and the throne of God

will be for ever clear in my eternal damnation." AII the scripture promises suited to her case, and all endeavours to apply them, she would either evade by argument, or by saying, that she felt they could not apply to one in her situation. She said, "I have tried to hope, but it is vain-it is deeply impressed on my mind, that nothing remains for me, but to go away into everlasting punishment." Yet I cannot murmur against God. My feelings are changed; I am a stranger to the former reflections of my mind; indifferent to my former pursuits, and I loathe the gayety of the world. The months I spent in useless needle-work, witness against me; and I am reminded that I have done worse than to waste them for nought. Had I spent that time seeking the Lord, I might now have been happy."

It was remarked to her, that if she ever found peace, it would be in prayer; that the Lord had answered the prayers of wicked men and of devils, Mark 5: 12, 13, 17; and, much more, would he answer the prayers of those who sorrow for their sins and forsake them. Then it was proposed to her to kneel and pray thrice a day for a year. She declined, saying, it would be of no use. But after some reflection, concluding it could do no harm, she made the covenant. Ten days after this, she attended the conference of the Free-Will and the Free Communion Baptists in Oxford; and several friends spent a night in prayer with her; still she found no relief, and the next day her distress increased. She observed, "If so many prayers of the saints in my behalf, gain no access, the cause must be, that my doom is unalterably fixed." The state of her mind continued about the same for several months, as appears by the following extracts from her letters:

July 30, 1829, she writes:- "Still it appears to me, the door of mercy is for ever and justly closed against me; for God has called, and I have refused; he stretched out his arm, and I would not regard. And what am I, that I have dared to refuse obedience, and to rebel against an Almighty God, who had power any moment to sink me into an abyss of wo and misery!

But, instead of this deserved doom, his sparing mercies have followed me, and temporal blessings have been bestowed with a liberal hand. I review these mercies, and at times indulge the vain hope that they will lead me to love, and place an unbounded confidence in their divine Author. But, O the depravity of my heart! The thought, that happiness has for ever fled my bosom, makes me at times almost indifferent to my fate. Yet I am in the hands of God, and with him, all things are possible.

My sister appears to be serious; she arose in meeting two days since and expressed a determination to seek the Lord. She is two years younger than myself; and, did I possess millions of worlds, I would joyfully give them up, if I could by that means recall two years of my life. But, alas! vain wish! Why do I spend a single thought on that which cannot be, when soon, I may have an eternity to reflect in!"

Aug. 20, she writes:-"What infatuation, what fatal madness has deceived me, and caused me to treat the mercies of Heaven with such neglect and indifference! What has the Lord not done for me, that would have been likely to inspire my soul with gratitude and love, and secure my obedience? Often does my heart recur to the scenes of childhood, when I fondly pictured to myself, and my heart glowed in contemplating what I then believed to be the virtuous principles that would be engraven on my soul, and the usefulness that would mark my future life. But when I look back for these fruits of piety, what do I find in their stead? I am led to exclaim, wretched ingrate that I have been!' O the deceitfulness of sin! Justly may it call for the vengeance of a holy God.

"I mentioned in my former communication, that my sister was serious. She has found comfort, and gone forward in the ordinance of baptism. I walked with her to the water, but could go no further. It appeared to me, that we should soon be separated for a long eternity;-she to be a partaker of the glorious rest provided for the children of God, while, alas! I should have my portion with unbelievers.

O that it were not for ever! The certain conviction