leak, and soon found it, being an open augur hole of about an inch and half augur, at the ship's stern, so high up as not to leak constantly. This being stopped, the number of strokes was soon reduced to 25 an hour. Oh! what a change of countenance this wrought. All soon seemed as if they had forgotten all their sorrows. They put ship about, and went to sea in earnest. Second-day 10th of the month, the wind arose, and roared tremendously all night and all next day and night. The men tied up the sails, lashed the helm, and lay to, or let the ship drift in the wind and waves. About the middle of the time, the captain said he had not seen so violent a gale of so long continuance for eight years. So said the rest. All said it was truly terrible, but we had sea room enough-a great consolation. It stormed near all the time; but most violently the last night. This night, I assure you, the storm and wind were dreadful. Fowls died; the one sheep, though between decks, nearly died; divers spars broke loose, and were lost, though pretty strongly lashed; and a good new whale. boat on deck, well lashed, was much broken. Oh! the rising surges of the breaking, foaming waves! Oh! the rocking, pitching, rolling, of our ship! I thought of Addison. "When wave on wave, and gulf on gulf, o'ercame the pilot's art." But as the scene was new to me, my description may be thought to border upon exaggeration. However, blessed be the Strength of Israel, my only hope, my only stay, I felt resigned, and stilled and staid through all; though very little light shined sensibly on my heart, now, or at all during the whole voyage. But I saw God's wonder in the mighty waters. It seemed at times as if the briny waves would soon swallow us up; yet I never really lost my confidence, for all this was no more than for months I had firmly expected to meet with. You know it was sealed on my soul, that the loud roar of wind, and the dread rolling of the waves, would awfully attend my passage. And now indeed it proved my hold on Heaven. I said in my heart, It is the Lord; let him fulfil his purposes. Let him do just what he will with me, in time and in eternity. Nought else beside his holy will can ever be good for me; and why should I wish even the most disagreeable parts of it averted, mitigated, or shortened. I thought I had had his holy promise who cannot lie, that I should

live through these dreadful tossings on the bosom of the ocean, and once more set my foot on firm ground, yea, bless his holy name, in wonders yet to come on shore. I cannot say, I had no reasonings in regard to the divine superintendency; but I well remembered the clearness of prospect wherein I had, even before I went into Connecticut, seen this dispensation on the ocean. I also livingly remembered the holy warmth, energy, and assurance that attended the promise of safety through all; and though it was now the divine will that the evidence of divine things should be low in my mind, yet I could not cast away my confidence. Indeed, low as the evidence was now as to Deity itself, I yet seemed almost or quite certain, that if the Lord liveth, and if I had ever known his holy word at all, I surely had had it, and might rely on it, in this instance. Here my foot fixed; and my all I surrendered up to his disposal, not once wishing myself on shore, nor in another vessel: for I never had even hoped to escape this tempest, for good part of a year before.

Fourth-day, 12th, about noon we got under sail again, though still the roar of elements with awfulness remained. We got on slowly for about twelve days from Boston, then had good, fresh, fair winds, and made good speed, till we got soundings in the English Channel. Second-day, 31st, afternoon, we made the Lizard. Third-day, 1st month 1st, 1793, soon after midnight, just as new-year commenced, we had another fresh strong gale, with rain till near night this day. This was awful, but trifling to the other. After this, calms and contrary winds, and, about Calais, contrary tides detained us. At length we cast anchor, on seventh-day, the 5th, just a month from Boston, not in the road, but about four miles from the harbour. Anxious to be with Friends next day at meeting, I went on board a pilot boat among Flemmings and French, all strangers, and got safe to dear William Rotch's, where I now write, and am very kindly entertained: he and his family all well. Benjamin and wife in London. We had scarce any sunshine the whole passage, but much wet. I never was very sea-sick, yet scarcely ever ate with much relish; seldom wished to eat at all, but ate to live, and ate enough to nearly keep my flesh. Slept almost none, many VOL. II.-23

nights on the whole, might sleep a third of what was usual,think not more. The ship rolled abundantly. I feel and see the motion yet disagreeably. The house seems going up and down continually, but I am otherwise very well, and have been throughout. I have great satisfaction in being here. Was at meeting yesterday, and rejoiced in moderation, in hopes the spring of life was not finally closed; though I had scarce felt it on the passage, nor seen that I could ever again set one foot before the other; yet my faith never quite failed me. I had some deep provings, wherein all former experience failed to prevent great sinkings. Oh! thought I, at a few broken seasons, if I ever again set foot on Columbia's shore, and those I left beneath my humble shed are living, we sure shall mingle tears in remembrance and relation of our adventures, during absence; at least what mine eyes have seen, and heart has felt, will never be forgotten. I don't see which way I may go hence yet; perhaps none for some days, or till my head is a little settled. My love is not on the decline to any of you. Please communicate it as from my heart to my own dear father, all my dear children, brothers and sisters, relations and friends.

12th. It is just a week since I got to Dunkirk, and here I am yet, well in health, my head well settled, though my mind has been sunk even into the contemplation of almost immediate return to your land; but my prospects begin to grow more pleasant. I expect to go hence on second-day for Dover, and likely soon for London. Dear William Rotch, and Robert Grubb, a choice living Friend of Ireland, now here, I expect will be my company. William I think will spend some time with me if I stay in England, but not go into Ireland. At present I can see no further than London, and it would not be strange to me, if there, and thereabout, I should spend the winter; though I think, if I had got away according to my own prospects, opened, I still trust, in the light of Israel, my way might have opened early into Ireland. But I resign all, and am, in fulness of love, yours, &c.

Do write me as soon as well may be.

JOB SCOTT.

Dear sister,

To Remember Anthony.

Dunkirk, 7th of 1st month, 1793.

I feel nearly excused from writing thee at this time, as I have written largely to father and the family. There, please to read my unabated regard for you all. It is low water with me, but I may inform thee, that thou hast had a place of feeling remembrance with me, in all my tossings on the mighty ocean. Oh! I think thou canst have but a faint idea of the awfulness of the tremendous scene I have described in my letter to father. But what are all the tossings our bodies can endure? Or what matter where, when, or how they moulder into dust, if so it may be, that the part which cannot die be united with the one eternal source of all good? Utter annihilation is the most dreadful to me of all possibilities. I can with more consolation endure the idea of a degree of eternal pain, than of total extinction. And unworthy as I feel myself of the smiles of Heaven, there are but very few moments when the evidence of immortality is strong in my soul, but that I can look forward towards future existence with divine consolation. I as much depend on receiving the just reward of all my works, as I depend on life out of this body. But there is nothing in the idea of a full recompense for all my misconduct, that is at all terrifying, when I look towards futurity. But, Oh! "abhorred annihilation!" what is it can possibly give it, even to the most abandoned mortal, such "dreadful charms?"

Whenever I am assured the Lord liveth, as, blessed be his name, I sometimes am, and have the living evidence that “souls can never die," there is nothing in all the possible determinations of the divine will, that I can fear. In short I then find nothing to fear but the deviations of my own will; and nothing to hope or wish but the complete accomplishment of the divine will in all things. And in proportion as mine becomes swallowed up in the divine, I find, as William Law expresses it, "every day has lost all its evil.”

This manner of communication was altogether unexpected;

and whether it be for thy sake, or any other in the family, I know not. May God Almighty hold thee and me, and all his own, in his holy hand for ever. May we, and all we love, live near, and yield wholly to him, and then we are sure of “ possessing all things." This is my prayer to Heaven, dear sister, for thee, and for us all; and I scarce know another wish for any thing in the universe. "All else beneath the sun, God knows if best bestowed or not, and let his will be done."

Remember me to all my dear little motherless children. Be kind to them; cultivate them. Bring them forward in God's holy fear, and in reverence of his inward appearance. Live all in love. I must now close; and I do it in fulness of sincerest brotherly affection, resting thy still often and deeply exercised friend and brother,

JOB SCOTT.

Dear Friend,

To Moses Brown, Providence.

Dunkirk, 1st month 7th, 1793.

I arrived here in good health, except the effects of motion at sea, the day before yesterday having been as well during the passage, (which was from the 5th of last month, to the 5th of this,) as the sea would permit. In the fore part of the passage we had an awful gale and storm for two whole nights, a day and nearly a half; another we had in the English channel, but lighter. Except these and an alarming leak, just after we got out of sight of land, which was found and stopped, we had a favourable passage, though scarce any clear sunshine, or but little, the whole voyage, and a good deal of wet weather. My mind has been quiet through all, though I have little more than just to live by faith and not by sight.

I rejoiced a little in Friends' small meeting here, yesterday; and find, (so far as experience can find and I have proved,) the Helper of the helpless is omnipresent. I met with him in Dunkirk, to my comfort, though but few here may have a very sen