she lived happily until the 5th of April, 1795, when by the decease of Mr. Morris, she was left a widowwith two sons to rear and educate. She felt the responsibility of the charge, and with exclusive devotion, she performed the important duty. After her marriage, she left Somerset, and lived in Worcester county, near to, and part of the time at, Snowhill, during the life of her husband. After his death, at the request of her brother, governor Winder, she returned to Somerset, and resided near him until his decease. In 1823, some time after her brother's death, she came to Dover, Delaware; to spend the remainder of her days near her eldest son, Dr. William W. Morris. By this removal, she was placed almost entirely among strangers; where she had new acquaintances to make; new friendships to gain, and a new character to form. Aged persons enter a strange place and a strange circle of society, under peculiar disadvantages. In most cases, when they spend their latter days in the place where, in early years, they have formed a large acquaintance and gained a respectable standing, the friendships, the influence, and the reputation which they have acquired, accompany them in that advanced stage of life, in which the qualifications by which these advantages were obtained, are swept away by the flux of time; and they are esteemed, not so much for what they now are, as for what they once have been. But all these acquirements of one's better days, are lost, by a removal in the evening of life; and if again possessed, amid all the disqualifications of age and infirmity, (for which strangers are not generally disposed to make a sufficient allowance), they must be sought anew. But, although the health of Mrs. Morris, during her residence in Dover, was very infirm, yet there, as in other places where she had resided, she commanded the esteem and veneration of all that fell within the sphere of her acquaintance. Hav

ing been long a member of the Presbyterian church, and having connected with it all her earliest and fondest associations, she viewed with sorrow, the desolations which, in Dover, invaded that portion of God's Zion. About the year 1748, a Presbyterian church was collected in that town, by the Rev. John Miller; over which he was pastor, for fortythree years. At his decease, in A. D. 1791, the congregation was in a flourishing condition, and had almost completed a new brick meetinghouse, which is still standing and in repair. But after his decease, the congregations of Dover and Duck Creek, were entrusted to the charge of a man who, renouncing the faith once delivered to the saints, became a disciple of Dr. Priestley, and scattered, instead of edifying the flock. So paralyzing was his influence upon the interest of religion, that many seriously disposed persons, who were formerly attached to the Presbyterian church, observing such an evident want of piety among the Presbyterians of Dover, broke off their connexion with them, and united themselves with the Methodist society. By the deaths and removal of the members, the church continued to diminish, until it was finally extinguished. Some of the descendants of the old members who were piously disposed, fell off to other societies; whilst others, retaining some of their Presbyterian partialities, neglected all the means of grace, because they possessed none of their own; and thus ultimately, became almost totally indifferent to religion in any form. And the consequence was, that though, at different times, attempts were made to resuscitate that congregation, yet all was fruitless. On the one hand, from the laxity and irreligion which produced its destruction, strong prejudices were entertained against the whole denomination; and on the other, there was almost an entire indifference to religion, by the great proportion of the population that had been reared under Presbyterian in

fluence; so that, between the fires of prejudiced zeal, and the cold regions of religious apathy, a Presbyterian minister could scarcely obtain a hearing. Thus, when Mrs. Morris came to Dover, there was no Presbyterian church whose privileges she could enjoy; and no preaching by ministers of her communion, except, perhaps, once or twice a year, when some missionary passed along. Here she could truly say, "The ways of Zion do mourn because none come to the solemn feasts; all her gates are desolate." She felt for these desolations, and felt almost alone. But if she seldom was visited by the ministers of the gospel; and if she seldom heard it preached by those who proclaimed it in her most approved way, yet she never failed to refresh her soul by their ministra tions, when opportunities were of fered; and she ever made her house the theatre of hospitality, and of intellectual and religious entertainment, to those servants of Christ who did visit her. This state of things continued in Dover, until the spring of 1825; when, principally through her importunity, personal influence, and liberal benefaction, the gospel was once more preached, statedly, in the Presbyterian church of Dover. Presbyterian ministers, when passing, had for a long time preached in the statehouse; but on Sunday, the 15th of May, 1825, the Presbyterian church was opened and occupied in publick worship. Then, for the first time after Mrs. Morris's residence in Dover, she saw her favourite sanctuary unfolding its doors, to welcome the worshippers into its long deserted and long lonely recesses. As she was going from her own dwelling, to attend divine service on that day, and drew so near the church as first to view its opened doors and windows, and the people standing ready to enter and hear the word, she seemed in a high degree to enter into the spirit of the hundred and twentysecond psalm-"I was glad when they said unto me, Let us go into the house of the Lord. Our feet shall

stand within thy gates, O Jerusalem." The sight seemed almost to overcome her, and for a few moments to fill her soul with more than language could express-When she had a little recovered from the influence of her feelings, she exclaimed, “Oh, how does this remind me of other times! This is like what I have been accustomed to see from my youth!" During the whole short remainder of her life, she continued to attend church at all times, so far as her infirmities would permit, and rejoiced in the privilege; and she also employed means and influence, in every way within her power, to promote the interests of the Redeemer's kingdom. But the scenes of her earthly pilgrimage were soon to close. On the 2d of February, 1826, she was seized by the influenza, an epidemick that then prevailed, producing through the country very alarming desolations; which, from the debilitated state of her constitution by age and previous disease, found her a subject of very easy conquest. It soon produced in her a difficulty of respiration, and an indistinctness of speech, which rendered her condition truly distressing. Her disease continued some time to increase, until her life was despaired of; and all around her expected hourly her death. But by the indefatigable exertions of her physician, the rage of the devourer at last appeared to be assuaged, and her breathing became more easy, and her voice more clear. All, but herself, supposed her now almost out of danger. But from the commencement of her illness, she appeared to anticipate her dissolution; and her anticipations were just. Contrary to the expectations of her physician-when her acquaintances and friends were rejoicing in the hope of her speedy recovery-when she was supposed to be almost convalescent-on the morning of the 18th of February, her spirit, as if wearied with the shackles of earth and the incumbrances of mortality, and panting for the enjoyment of the glorious liberty of the children of

"For more than three years my studies in divinity were to me a source of increasing attachment to Christian faith and practice. When I quitted my charge as tutor, I had begun a series of short lectures on religion, the first part of which I deliver ed to the young members of the family. Having retired to private lodgings in London, it was my intention to prosecute that work for the benefit of young persons; but there was by this time a mental phenomenon ready to appear in me, to which I cannot now look back without a strong sense of my own weakness. My vehement desire of knowledge not allowing me to neglect any opportunity of reading whatever books on divinity came to my hands, I studied the small work on the Atonement, by Taylor of Norwich. The confirmed habits of my mind were too much in accordance with every thing that promised to remove mystery from Christianity, and I adopted Taylor's views with out in the least suspecting the consequences. It was not long, however, before I found myself beset with great doubts on the divinity of Christ. My state became now exceedingly painful; for, though greatly wanting religious comfort in the solitude of a sick room, where I was a prey to pain and extreme weak ness, I perceived that religious practices had lost their power of soothing me. But no danger or suffering has, in the course of my life, deterred me from the pursuit of truth. Having now suspected that it might be found in the Unitarian system, I boldly set out upon the search; but there I did not find it. Whatever industry and attention could do, all was performed with candour and earnestness; but in length of time, Christianity, in the light of Unitarianism, appeared to me a mighty work to little purpose; and I lost all hope of quieting my mind. With doubts unsatisfied wherever I turned, I found myself rapidly sliding into the gulf of Scepticism: but it pleased God to prevent my complete relapse. I knew too well the map of infidelity to be deluded a second time by the hope of finding a restingplace to the sole of my foot, throughout its wide domains: and now I took and kept a determination to give my mind some rest from the studies, which, owing to my peculiar circumstances, had evidently occasioned the moral fever under which I laboured. What was the real state of my faith in this period of darkness, God alone can judge. This only can I

"These Lectures were published at Oxford, in 1817, with the title of Preparatory Observations on the Study of Religion, by a Clergyman of the Church of England"

state with confidence,-that I prayed daily for light; that I invariably considered myself bound to obey the precepts of the Gospel; and that, when harassed with fresh doubts, and tempted to turn away from Christ, I often repeated from my heart the affecting exclamation of the apostle Peter-to whom shall I go? thpu hast the words of eternal life.'

"For some time I thought it an act of criminal insincerity to approach, with those doubts, the sacramental table; but the consciousness that it was not in my power to alter my state of mind, and that, if death, as it appeared very probable, should overtake me as I was, I could only throw myself with all my doubts upon the mercy of my Maker; induced me to do the same in the performance of the most solemn act of religion. But I had not often to undergo this awful trial. Ob. jections which, during this struggle, appeared to me unanswerable, began gra dually to lose their weight on my mind." The Christian Evidences which, at the period of my change from infidelity, struck me as powerful in detail, now presenting themselves collectively, acquired a strength which no detached difficulties (and all the arguments of infidelity are so) could shake. My mind, in fact, found rest in that kind of conviction which belongs peculiarly to moral subjects, and seems to depend on an intuitive perception of the truth through broken clouds of doubt, which it is not in the power of mortal man completely to dispel. Let no one suppose that I allude to either mysterious or enthusiastick feelings; I speak of conviction arising from examination. But any man accustomed to observe the workings of the mind, will agree, that conviction, in intricate moral questions, comes finally in the shape of internal feeling-a perception perfectly distinct from syllogistick conviction, but which exerts the strongest power over our moral nature. Such perception of the truth is, indeed, the spring of our most important actions, the common bond of social life, the ground of retributive justice, the parent of all human laws. Yet, it is inseparable from more or less doubt; for doubtless conviction is only to be found

"I believe it a duty to mention a work which, under Providence, contributed to put an end to my trial, I mean the Internal Evidences of Christianity, by the Rev. John Bird Sumner; a book, which I would strongly recommend to every candid inquirer into religious truth, as containing one of the most luminous views, not only of the proofs, but the doctrines of the Gospel, which it was ever my good fortune to peruse."

about objects of sense, or those abstract creations of the mind, pure number and dimension, which employ the ingenuity of mathematicians. That assurance respecting things not seen, which the Scriptures call Faith, is a supernatural gift, which reasoning can never produce. This difference between the conviction result ing from the examination of the Christian Evidences, and Faith, in the Scriptural sense of the word, appears to me of vital importance, and much to be attended to by such as, having renounced the Gospel, are yet disposed to give a candid hearing to its advocates. The power of the Christian Evidences, is that of leading any considerate mind, unobstructed by preju dice, to the records of Revelation, and making it ready to derive instruction from that source of supernatural truth; but it is the Spirit of truth alone, that can impart the internal conviction of Faith.

"I have now gone through the religious history of my mind, in which I request you to notice the result of my various situations. Under the influence of that mental despotism, which would prevent investigation by the fear of eternal ruin, or which mocks reason by granting the examination of premises, while it reserves to itself the right of drawing conclusions; I was irresistibly urged into a denial of

late given to the books which issue out of the English Roman Catholick press, I am convinced that there exist two kinds of writers of your persuasion; one, who write for the Protestant publick, and for such among yourselves as cannot well di. gest the real unsophisticated system of their Roman head; the other, for the mass of their British and Irish church, who still adhere to the Roman Catholick system, such as it is professed in countries where all other religions are condemned by law. In your devotional books, and in such works as are intended to keep up the warmth of attachment to your religious party, I recognise every feature of the religion in which I was educated; in those intended for the publick at large, I only find a flattered and almost ideal portrait of those, to me well-known features, which, unchanged and unsoftened by age, the writers are conscious, cannot be seen without disgust by any of those to whom custom has not made them familiar."

Revelation but no sooner did I obtain freedom than, instead of my mind run

layed boon, it opened to conviction, and acknowledged the truth of Christianity. The temper of that mind shows, I believe, the general character of the age to which it belongs. I have been enabled to make

an estimate of the moral and intellectual state of Spain, which few who know me and that country, will, I trust, be inclined to discredit. Upon the strength of this know. ledge, I declare again and again that very few among my own class (I comprehend clergy and laity) think otherwise than I did before my removal to England. The testimony of all who frequent the Continent -a testimony which every one's knowledge of foreigners supports-represents all Catholick countries in a similar condi

tion. Will it, then, be unreasonable to suppose, that if a fair choice was given between the religion of Rome and other forms of Christianity, many would, like myself, embrace the Gospel which they have rejected? Is there not some presumption of error against a system which every where revolts an improving age from Christianity? Let us examine that system itself."

Near the beginning of his second Petter Mr. W. observes

"From the attention which I have of

from Protestantism to Popery. A lady of our acquaintance, some years since, the daughter of eminently pious parents in a Protestant church, was, within a few hours of the time at which she actually renounced Protestantism for Popery, earnestly entreated by us, to consider whether she could embrace a system, which consigned to hopeless perdition, all who understandingly refused the Popish communion-and of course, her pious parents among the rest. She professed to

shudder at the thought; and insisted that the church which she was about to join, held no such opinion. It was utterly in vain that we offered to show her, from unquestionable Popish authorities, that in this respect she was in error-she would listen to nothing of the kind. Indeed it was sufficiently manifested, although not explicitly avowed, that her mind had been prepared to re