84 FRIENDS’
existence and prevalence of war mark but the
depravity of man, and his tremendous capacity
for doing evil. What does it avail the human
race that the tide of conquest and devastation
have rolled from east to west and from west to
east, and that thousands and millions of our fellow
creatures have been cut off in the midst of their
days, and sent fresh from this life to death, burning
with fury and panting for revenge; into the pres-
ence of a just God, to receive their eternal desti-
nation? Whyshould I recountthe horror and the
miseries that follow in the train of war, and tri-
umph inits ravages? Who has not reflected on
the subject, and who does not deplore the wretch-
ed state of human nature, whether in producing
or suffering these disgraceful calamities? And
is there no redress? Does there exist no
power on earth or in Heaven to arrest them?
There is, my friend; it were impious to say
there is not. There is in the religion taught by
Jesus Christ,—which is able to reconcile us to
God and toone another. It can divest the heart
that receives it of its propensities to wrongs and
violence for its sake. Thousands of living wit-
nesses bear testimony to this divine principle.
Thousands who would suffer any privation or
punishment rather than impede, by their exam-
ple, its influence and increase. And ought it
not to console the friend of his country, and of
his species, to see its truth, and to be assured by
indubitable evidence, that it is possible to re-
turn good for evil—to love our very enemies ;
and for man, in all situations, to be the friend
of man ?
I am with much respect, thy friend,

B. BAtEs.
————-~<or—-—_——-
For Friends’ Review.
NOTICES OF DAVID COOPER.
NO. XXIX.

, [The compiler has discovered a number of letters
too old in their date for a regular place in the present
series; itis however thought advisable to interrupt
the narrative by the insertion of a few of them.]

r D. COOPER TO MARTHA ALLINSON.

First-day morning, 6th mo. 23d, 1782.

Dear Daughter :—Sitting in my lonely room
this morning, and my desk open, I took up one of
thy letters to read, which occasioned the silent
waters to flow. Reflection on the many changes
to which we are subject whilst here, and how
few of them leave us more easy, crowded my
thoughts, and increased the gloom ; to get rid of
which I took up my pen thus to converse with
the dearest object.left me in the world. Whence,
my dear, this uneasiness with the present allot-
ment; regret that we had not made more of the

t, and this eager expectation that the next
change will yield the desired happiness? It
arrives, but behind it lurks our old acquaintance,
disappointment. Thus we go on, from the cra-
dle to the grave, always unhappy to-day in ex-

through life.

 

REVIEW.

pectation of 4 greater share to-morrow. The
morrow comes, but fruition is still at an equal
distance. This has been too much my case
I often feel an earnest desire for
thee, my dear, that thou mayest be more wise.
Thou hast had, and must expect, a portion of
the world’s bitters. Resolve to strike out of
the common road. Make the most of the

resent moment; enjoy the present blessings in
Fall, let them be little or much, without com-
paring them with the past, or being too anxious
about the future. Do what thou findest for thy
hands to do (in duties spiritual and temporal)
with all the strength afforded, and, whether
successful or not, calmly resign the event to His
disposal, whose wisdom is unerring, having in
thy own bosom the sweetening evidence that
thy ways please Him. It will then appear of
small moment what thy entertainment is whilst
here; knowing thy tarriance ean be but short
until the troubler shall cease from troubling, and
all tears shall be wiped away. I mention not
these things as thinking they have escaped thy
reflection, but to strengthen thee in a labor I
am very sensible thou art at times engaged in;
and nothing will so much endear thee to me, as
to see such an increase of skill and experience
as may qualify thee to strengthen others; where-
by thou wilt more and more resemble thy dear
mother, who, though she was taken away at the
age of twenty-eight, had been several years a
useful overseer, and was about to be appointed
an elder; to labor for her heavenly Father being
indeed her meat and her drink ; and such service
being accompanied with an evidence of love, it
gave whatever she said or did an uncommon re-
ception. I mention this to help to remove thy —
weakening timidity and hurtful fears of being
too forward. There’s a strength, a use, pro-
priety and dignity in standing easy in our pro-
per stations; and who knows for what you were
placed in that meeting? There are many tender,
well concerned Friends there, chiefly of the
pom class, who appear devoted to service,

ut unskilful in discipline. It ap to me
one single Friend, truly wise and skilful, a little
to steer that zeal which springs from a right
motive, would greatly change the face of things
in your meeting; as much, perhaps, among the
men as the women. Therefore, my dear, read
the story of Gideon, and let it strengthen thee
to stand in thy proper allotment.

Thou wilt think I have been in a scribbling
humor, and perhaps not to much p But
it comes from a father whose greatest desire for
his children is, that they may enjoy the sweet
peace that flows from well-doing, and which is a
foretaste of that peace eternal laid up for the
righteous. The one thing needful which Mary
chose, and which she was told should never be
taken from her, calms our fears, and makes hard
things easy and bitter things sweet.

Thy uncle Reuben has been here. I have