d is my portion, and in Him will
I trust. The week has been mixed with trial and blessing. Monday:
Penelope left us, after a visit of ten days. Tuesday: Felt it good
while Mr. Crowther admonished us to look to Jesus. Wednesday: Our
servant left us: I had power to pray for her after she was gone.
Thursday: The Lord was with us at our little meeting. Friday: I
spoke unadvisedly with my tongue, which occasioned pain of mind; but
applying to Jesus, I found access. O the condescension of the Saviour!
The prayer-meeting was a blessed season. Saturday: A day of toil, but
the Lord was with me: yet I want a constant mind, that I may every
moment hold converse with my God. 'Keep thyself pure' was the
admonition of the Spirit one morning this week. May I ever remember
it."

[The following was the dying complaint of the "Miscellany," a little
family periodical, which had a brief, but happy existence.]

Confident, on airy wing,
My vanity soared high;
Like the nightingale I'd sing,
And with the eagle fly.
Soon my sad mistake I found;
I warbling notes had none,
And scarcely rose above the ground,
Before my plumes were gone.
Flatt'ry whispered soft and low,
Of wisdom, fame, and lore;
Woe is me! neglected now,
The pleasant dream is o'er.
Pity, then, my humble state,
And if you can bestow
Tears upon my hapless fate;
Pray let them freely flow.

"I have around me some who exercise my patience, and therefore need
the wisdom of the serpent, and the meekness of the dove, that I may
be preserved from offending. Last Sabbath, I was tempted to mistrust
Providence, as I had not seen a rainbow since the rains commenced; but
the following evening--accompanying my husband to York in a very heavy
shower--on our left, we saw the broadest and most beautiful bow I ever
beheld. I could not help thinking it infinite condescension in the
great I AM thus to remove my scruples.--I walked to York alone: but
surrounded by proofs of divine wisdom and power, my solitude was
sweet; my thoughts meandered like the river, that swept at my side.
Reverting to past scenes and circumstances, I wrote with my pencil:

If, through scenes of tribulation,
Lies the pathway to the skies;
Let me yield with resignation,
Sure, Thy ways are always wise.

"A friend has made application for my Sunday-class. In this matter, I
do not see my way clear; however, as I was requested to seek another
place for it--t