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MEMORIAL

DANIEL BAILEY, deceased.

The memory of our late dear friend, DANIEL BAILEY, being precious to many, we are induced to prepare a brief account of him, in the hope that his instructive example of uprightness, simplicity, and love of the Truth, together with his peaceful close, may encourage others to follow him as he followed Christ.

He was born in the eastern part of the State of Virginia, the 31st day of the Twelfth month, 1777. His parents were Abidan and Sarah Bailey, members of the religious Society of Friends; who were concerned to train their children consistently with their profession; his mother died when he was quite young, and his father several years before he arrived at man's estate.

apprehend there is a renewed call to watchful- Of Dover Monthly Meeting, Ohio, concerning ness, lest any be induced, either in respect of their own property, or that which may be under their care, to seek, or when provided, to avail themselves of this protection. Is it not manifest, dear Friends, that there would be an inconsistency in doing by the hands of others, that which we cannot do ourselves; and whilst professing a Christian testimony against bearing arms, to be found directly or indirectly depending upon the defence of armed men? We renewedly feel the preciousness of the testimony which has been given us to bear, to the peaceable nature of the kingdom of our Holy Redeemer; but there is perhaps none which, in time of danger, involves a closer trial of our faith and our allegiance to Him. Yet how numerous and how encouraging are the instances of members of our Society, who, in the midst of war or civil commotion have been strengthened to maintain it faithfully; and, under circumstances of great outward peril, to commit themselves, and all that was dear to them in this life, to the care and keeping of the Shepherd of Israel. Often have they had to experience, outwardly as well as spiritually, the fulfilment of the gracious promises, His truth shall be thy shield and buckler:" "Because thou hast made the Lord, which is my refuge, even the Most High, thy habitation, there shall no evil befall thee." May we ever retain a grateful remembrance of the preservation vouchsafed to those, whose faithfulness was thus manifested in a former time of trial in this land. But let us also remember, that suffering in person and property is often the portion of the devoted followers of Christ, and we have ground to trust that their constancy under such trials will not only be owned by their Divine Master, but may, under his blessing, be made a powerful means of promoting the advancement and spreading of the truth.

Beloved Friends, the day calls for diligence in the great work of a preparation for eternity. The events passing around us, admonish us of the great uncertainty of life-that here we have no continuing city-and this consideration ought surely to loosen our attachment to the things of time, and engage us in the earnest pursuit of a treasure laid up in Heaven. May our loins be girded about, and our lights burning, and we ourselves be like unto men that wait for their Lord, remembering that "Blessed are those servants whom the Lord, when he cometh, shall find watching."

Signed by direction and on behalf of the meeting,

SAMUEL BEWLEY,

Clerk to the Meeting this year.

In the year 1804, he emigrated to the State of Ohio, and in the year 1807, he was married to Mary Haworth, daughter of George and Susannah Haworth, and was favoured to raise a large family of children. His uprightness, simplicity and benevolence, tended not only to endear him to his friends and family, but to gain the esteem of his acquaintance generally.

He occupied the station of an Elder upwards of twenty years, manifesting a sincere concern for the advancement of Truth, and encouraging Friends, by precept and example, to a faithful discharge of the religious duty of attending all their meetings for Worship and Discipline. Although he was a person of but few words, his labours for the maintenance of our various testimonies, and the strict observance of the order and discipline of our Society, were marked with much fervency of mind.

He participated with Friends in the painful exercise occasioned by two separations in the Society, within the limits of Indiana Yearly Meeting, and manifested an unshaken belief in the fundamental doctrines of the Christian religion as held by our predecessors.

The last separation took place a little before his last illness, which gave him much deep concern of mind, particularly on account of several members of his own Monthly Meeting, who were disposed to join with the seceders, which concern was manifested by much tender and pathetic expostulation with some of them who came to see him before his death, desiring them to remember it as his last admonition for their good.

A few weeks before his last illness, he was engaged as one of a committee of our Quarterly Meeting of Ministers and Elders, in visiting the members of that body with their families, and expressed much satisfaction in attending to the A man who makes pleasure his business, in-service. Before it was fully accomplished he stead of business his pleasure, will be likely ere was taken ill with a fever, though not entirely long to have no business to follow confined for a week or more at first, in which

time he observed, that although he felt himself weakening fast he had no pain, but of nights could frequently lie quiet and comfortable in body and mind, which he considered a peculiar favour. His fever continuing to increase, he was seized with a violent pain in his side, which soon produced symptoms of dissolution. A physician was called in, and medicine seemed to produce some relief, he being favoured at intervals with ease, for which he remarked there was cause of thankfulness. During the latter part of that night he slept comfortably, and in the morning he appeared to be refreshed. On seeing the sun shine soon after it rose, he very pleasantly said "the sun is shining once more," and a friend replying that it was a very pleasant morning, he responded, "yes, to me the pleasantest morning that I have ever known, and it is marvellous to me."

He continued to express the boundless love he felt in his heart towards our great and good Creator, and towards all His creatures.

At another time he said to one of his daughters, "I have been favoured beyond what I ever expected; my heart is full of love to every body, but I do not know whether this is a sign that I shall leave this world or not; my children feel very near and dear to me, more particularly when I think of parting with them." At another time he said, "It is marvellous how I have been weaned from the things of this world; my outward affairs are no more to me than the leaves of the trees." On Third-day morning he grew worse, with much difficulty of breathing, and his wife being called into the room he said to her, "I am going;" she being much affected, he added, "the Lord will bless thee." He then desired all his children to be sent for, which being done, when they arrived and were mostly collected in the room, he first addressed those who had the care of raising families of children, desiring them to be mindful of their dear offspring, and bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord, and to instruct them by precept and example in the principles of our religious society. After which he exclaimed, "Oh! it is a joyful day to me, though it may seem strange to some; my body is very much distressed, but the Lord's favour to me is beyond expression;" continuing, as at many other times, to considerable length, in expressions of praise and adoration to his bountiful Redeemer, in language which cannot be correctly recited. In a short time afterwards he added, "O, it has been a great comfort to me to think that all of my children are within the pale of our Society."

Shortly after he expressed himself nearly in the same language: "What a great satisfaction it is, when I am about to leave this world, that I can leave all my children under the care of so good a Society;" desiring them duly to appreciate such a privilege, and especially to be careful in the attendance of meetings, in a right disposition

of mind. Then taking his wife by the hand, he said, "I wish thou couldst feel just as I do." Then calling his two youngest sons, he said to them, "I desire you to remember your mother (for she will have much upon her) and assist her to get to meetings; though meetings may come in a very busy time, no matter; leave your outward business and take her to meetings, and you will be rewarded for it." Pain coming on very severe, he said, "Lord have mercy on me, for in thee alone do I put my trust."

On Fifth-day, being in a sweet frame of mind, he frequently said to those about him, “I am in no pain, but feel very pleasant;" speaking further of the boundless love that filled his heart, and which overflowed to the whole human family, and expressing gratitude and thanks to his gracious Redeemer for his many and continued favours to him. To some of his children that were in the room with him, he said, “O, how good it is that I can have my children around me." After a short pause he continued, "I desire to ask if ever you felt the tender love that I now feel; I have sought after it when labouring in my fields; I have craved it more than my ordinary food. I desire you to strive after it; I want you to seek for it when you are in meetings."

Although he manifested much piety of life, and had experienced, as we believe, in a large degree, the renovating influence of the love of God in his heart, which works repentance, purifies the soul, and through mercy and forgiveness, and that redemption which comes through our Lord Jesus Christ, renders it fit for the kingdom of Heaven, yet he had an humble opinion of his own religious attainments.

On the day before his decease, he expressed to those who were present, that he had thought at the beginning of his sickness that much still lay upon him to do, but he had since found the burthen taken away, through the tender mercy of the Lord, no doubt; whereupon he broke forth, "O, praises be unto him who hath so helped me! O, how can I forbear to praise so gracious a Redeemer!" Then entreating all who were present to seek an interest in Christ.

On the evening before his departure, he said to one of his daughters who stood by his bedside, "I desire thee not to set thy mind too much on the things of this world, but to set it on things above, and prepare to meet me in Heaven; this has been my prayer for thee." It being evident that death was fast approaching, his sons were called in, and his brother informed him that his four sons were all present, if he wished to see them. He looked on them and said, “Ah! I am almost gone, and I want you to settle all your affairs in peace, and never let in hardness on any occasion; never let it have place within your breasts, for if you do it will ruin your peace; and further, as you are passing through the world, and in the necessary intercourse with

men, you no doubt, at some time, will apprehend you are wronged, or unjustly treated; but never let in any hardness against any mortal, but rather Suffer wrong, for it will destroy the sweet peace.'

That evening, a few hours before his departure, he took a solemn leave of his physician, expressing his satisfaction with his attendance, and a hope that they would meet again in Heaven.

It would exceed the design of this short account of our dear friend to attempt to set down in detail all his impressive language, he being much engaged the last three days of his life to counsel his family and friends who came to visit him; being desirous that all might come to see the beauty of holiness, and to have a foretaste of the glorious reward of the righteous in Heaven; in the prospect of which he often broke forth in very moving and sublime ejaculations and praise to his glorious Redeemer; even to his own admiration, as he expressed, saying that he seemed constrained to do so, and that he could not hold his peace.

For Friends' Review.

TERRIFIC ALPINE FLOOD.

To us who are accustomed to living and moving only in a district, almost as level as a meadow, compared with the wild gorges of other lands, or even with those of other parts of our own country, it is difficult to picture to ourselves the furious character of mountain streams, or the desolation often times produced in their course, after having been augmented by sudden and heavy bursts of rain-or by rapid thaws of the mountains piled on mountains of snow-or after having broken loose from some temporary, but serious obstruction to their ordinary flowings.

Cheever, in his wanderings around Mont Blanc, gives an extract from the Bibliothèque de Genève, which the artist Brockedon had compiled from the account of Escher de Linth, and which may serve to show us some of the characteristic dangers of a country whose streams it is no uncommon circumstance to find-scarcely rolling-but absolutely leaping down the precipi tous ravines, as leaps the chamois down the mountain side. The rushing of the avalanche, huge in bulk at first, and increasing that bulk, as well as rapidity, at every rod of its thundering progress, is truly fearful enough-but it is limited

Notwithstanding the violent pains of death which racked his frame, he was favoured with understanding and a composed mind, and made some remarks on the manner of his burial, ex-in extent, and consequently limited in the depressing a desire he had often felt, that Friends, on such occasions, may be duly thoughtful of good order, in affording opportunity at the grave for a pause, suited to the solemn occasion, and that common or unnecessary conversation might be refrained from when met at the house, in order to accompany the corpse. Then he said, "I now feel clear, and leave it to the judgment of Friends to do as they think right.'

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A few minutes before his close he requested those around his bed to let him alone, and not trouble him in the conflict. A few more struggles ended the suffering scene. His spirit being released from its earthly tabernacle, took its flight for ever, to dwell, we reverently trust, in the presence of his Lord and Saviour. He departed this life the 12th of the Seventh month, 1844. His remains were interred at Dover meeting house, on First-day, the 14th of the same month, preceding the public meeting for worship, which was large and solemn.

Let the Elders that rule well be accounted worthy of double honour, 1st Tim. v. 17; and we can in no way so truly honour their memory as by following their good example, and yielding obedience in uprightness of heart to the word of divine grace, by which they obtained a good report, and through faith and patience inherit the promises.

Seest thou not that the angry man loseth his understanding? Whilst thou art yet in thy senses, let the wrath of another be a lesson to thyself.-Economy of Human Life.

struction which it is capable of producing. How overwhelming must be the forebodings of a neighbourhood stretching for many miles along the rapidly descending valley of a river, and completely within range of the certain ultimate breaking asunder of the fetters which bind its accumulating and maddened waters!

The river Drance has its rise in the vicinity of the Grand St. Bernard, and "thunders down the gorge between rugged and inaccessible moun tains, where there is no vegetation but such as has fallen from its hold, as it were, in despair, and struggles in confusion." It passes by Martigny, and loses its waters in those of the Rhone.

The catastrophe described below, occurred in 1818. History tells us that more than 200 years before, in 1595, the same valley was visited by a still more unrelenting desolation, and from a similar cause-the falling of great glaciers from the mountains across the bed of the Drance, and thus completely damming it up, and obstructing its course. It is said that more than one hundred and forty persons perished; the whole valley was overwhelmed-mountain ridges were burst asunder-nature's great local land marks were changed, and the centuries that have intervened, have scarcely sufficed to obliterate the evidences of that terrible disaster. T. U.

"In the spring of 1818, the people of the valley of Bagnes became alarmed on observing the low state of the waters of the Drance, at a season when the melting of the snows usually enlarged the torrent; and this alarm was increased by the records of similar appearances

before the dreadful inundation of 1595, which was then occasioned by the accumulation of the waters behind the débris of a glacier that formed a dam, which remained until the pressure of the water burst the dike, and it rushed through the valley, leaving desolation in its course.

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thirty-two hours the lake sank 10 feet, and during the following twenty-four hours 20 feet more; in a few days it would have been emptied; for the floor melting, and being driven off as the water escaped, kept itself below the level of the water within; but the cataract which issued from the gallery, melted and broke up also a large portion of the base of the dike which had served as its buttress; its resistance decreased faster than the pressure of the lake lessened, and at four o'clock in the afternoon of the 6th of June, the dike burst, and in half an hour the water escaped through the breach, and left the lake empty.

livres.

"In April, 1818, some persons went up the valley to ascertain the cause of the deficiency of water, and they discovered that vast masses of the glaciers of Getroz and avalanches of snow, had fallen into a narrow part of the valley, between Mont Pleuseur and Mont Mauvoisin, and formed a dike of ice and snow 600 feet wide and 400 feet high, on a base of 3,000 feet, behind which the waters of the Drance had accumulated "The greatest accumulation of water had been and formed a lake above 7,000 feet long. M. 800,000,000 of cubic feet; the tunnel before the Venetz, the engineer of the Vallais, was con-disruption, had carried off nearly 330,000,000. sulted, and he immediately decided upon cutting Escher says, 270,000,000; but he neglected to a gallery through this barrier of ice, 60 feet add 60,000,000 which flowed into the lake in above the level of the water at the time of com- three days. In half an hour, 530,000,000 cubic mencing, and where the dike was 600 feet thick. feet of water passed through the breach, or He calculated upon making a tunnel through this 300,000 feet per second; which is five times mass before the water should have risen 60 feet greater in quantity than the Rhine at Basle, higher in the lake. On the 10th of May, the where it is 1,300 English feet wide. In an hour work was begun by gangs of fifty men, who re- and a half the water reached Martigny, a distance lieved each other, and worked, without intermis- of eight leagues. Through the first 70,000 feet sion, day and night, with inconceivable courage it passed with the velocity of 33 feet per second, and perseverance, neither deterred by the daily four or five times faster than the most rapid river occurring danger from the falling of fresh masses known; yet it was charged with ice, rocks, of the glacier, nor by the rapid increase of the earth, trees, houses, cattle, and men; thirty-four water in the lake, which rose 62 feet in 34 days-persons were lost; 400 cottages swept away, on an average nearly two feet each day; but it and the damage done in the two hours of its desoonce rose five feet in one day, and threatened lating power exceeded a million of Swiss each moment to burst the dike by its increasing pressure; or, rising in a more rapid proportion than the men could proceed with their work, render their efforts abortive, by rising above them. Sometimes dreadful noises were heard, as the pressure of the water detached masses of ice from the bottom, which, floating, presented so much of their bulk above the water as led to the belief that some of them were 70 feet thick. The men persevered in their fearful duty without any serious accident, and, though suffering severely from cold and wet, and surrounded by dangers which cannot be justly described, by the 4th of June they had accomplished an opening 600 feet long; but having begun their work on both sides of the dike at the same time, the place where they ought to have met was 20 feet lower on one side of the lake than on the other: it was fortunate that latterly the increase of the perpendicular heights of the water was less, owing to the extension of its surface. They proceeded to level the highest side of the tunnel, and completed it just before the water reached them. On the evening of the 13th, the water began to flow. At first, the opening was not large enough to carry off the supplies of water which the lake received, and it rose two feet above the tunnel; but this soon enlarged from the action of the water, as it melted the floor of the gallery, and the torrent rushed through. In

"All the people of the valley had been cautioned against the danger of a sudden irruption; yet it was fatal to so many; all the bridges in its course were swept away, and among them the bridge of Mauvoisin, which was elevated 90 feet above the ordinary height of the Drance. If the dike had remained untouched, and it could have endured the pressure until the lake had reached the level of its top, a volume of 1,700,000,000 cubic feet of water would have been accumulated there, and a devastation much more extensive must have been the consequence. From this greater danger, the people of the valley of the Drance were preserved by the heroism and devotion of the brave men who effected the formation of the gallery, under the direction of M. Venetz.

"I know no instance on record of courage equal to this: their risk of life was not for fame or for riches-they had not the usual excitements to personal risk, in a world's applause or gazetted promotion,-their devoted courage was to save the lives and property of their fellow-men, not to destroy them. They steadily and heroically persevered in their labours, amidst dangers such as a field of battle never presented, and from which some of the bravest brutes that ever lived would have shrunk in dismay. These truly brave Vallaisans deserve all honour!"

SUSPENSION BRIDGE AT NIAGARA.

This bridge is the subject of an interesting communication in the Lockport "Courier," by LOT CLARKE, Esq., from which we learn that at a joint meeting, early last month, of the Boards of Directors of the two companies incorporated in Canada and New York, for the purpose of constructing a suspension bridge across the Niagara, below the Falls, it was satisfactorily ascertained that stock to the aggregate amount of $200,000 had been taken by parties fully able to pay the instalments as they should be called for. At that meeting notices were given that the Directors would receive plans and estimates at a future meeting, which assembled at the Clifton House on the 4th inst., and continued in session several days. A number of the most ingenious and scientific artists from different parts of the United States and Canada, appeared with their plans and designs, and much time was taken up in examination and explanation, the result of which was that the construction of the bridge contemplated was practicable, and that stockholders might safely invest their funds in the undertaking. The entire cost, it was estimated, could not in any event exceed $190,000. CHAS. ELLET, Jr., of Philadelphia, who has had much experience in works of the kind, was appointed engineer, and bound by contract to have the bridge ready for use on or before one year from the 1st of May next.

The bridge is to be suspended across the river at the narrow gorge, between the cataract and whirlpool, in view of both, immediately over the rapids, about 230 feet above the water, by sixteen wire cables, about 1100 feet long, and upwards of twelve inches circumference each. Its strength is to be equal to 6,500 tons tension strain, and to be subjected to the most severe and conclusive tests before used, so as to render its safety beyond possible contingency.

The structure is to have a railway track through the centre, so as to pass locomotives and trains to accommodate the two railways that terminate there.

No corresponding structure in the world will equal this in the grandeur of its accessaries; and, independent of the facilities it will afford to the vast tide of travel between Canada and New York, its fame, scarcely less than that of the sublime cataract, will attract visiters from every part of the world.-Baltimore American.

For Friends' Review.

THE SINGING MOUSE.

Never, we ween, since the days of Æsop, have the performances of a mouse excited so universal an interest, as those of this little animal have done. Unlike his prototype, however, a closer examination of the matter is attended with rather more satisfaction, than appears to have followed

the investigation into the cause of the groanings of the mountain in the fable.

The writer had the pleasure of spending an evening in his company a month or two ago, and must confess him to be one of the greatest natural

curiosities on record.

His mouseship is very particular about his company, and, unlike most vocal performers, prefers a very small and quiet audience,-moreover, it is necessary for the apartment to be perfectly dark to insure the finest display of his musical powers. In truth, he must be induced to suspect no one is present but himself, before he will give utterance to his more melodious and powerful notes.

There were several in the company on the evening referred to-and although he was continually giving out the delicate chirpings noticed in the annexed description, yet it was only after waiting in patience for full half an hour, that he broke forth into his bird-like songs. Had we not been fully assured by the direction and proximity of the sounds, and by a subsequent personal inspection with a candle, we could hardly have credited the fact.

But there he was, seated on his hind feet,

scratching vigorously the bars of the cage, and chirping cheerily over a bit of cheese which we handed him. This continual scraping of the wires adds to the deception, being almost precisely like the sound produced by the beak and claws of a canary bird.

One of our company, possessing much more musical talent than the writer, asserted that his notes possessed a far greater variety of compass than those of any bird he knew; for, though the canary seemed to be the model he most delighted in, yet he would frequently vary his performances with all the skill and much of the power of a mocking bird.

In short, our friend, John K. Townsend, the naturalist, to whom we were indebted for the

above opportunity, assured us that though (to use his own expression) he "had been a curiosity monger all his life, this was the greatest curiosity he had ever yet met with."

The following is taken from the Journal of the Franklin Institute for Ninth month.

"A natural curiosity was next exhibited, which excited considerable interest. This was a singing mouse, which, though declining on this occasion to perform in its best style, yet gave sufficient proof that its musical powers are wonderful for an animal of its kind. It is a common domestic mouse, (Mus Musculus,) and in appearance differs, in no remarkable particular, from other individuals of its species.

"It was the musical talent of this little creature which led to its capture. A lady, who kept some canary birds in her room through the day, but who was in the habit of having the cages removed to another apartment for the night, happened to hear, after retiring, a musical chirping

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