apparently trifling, proved to be the foremost, in a train of others, as unfore cen as inevitable, which, under the direction of an allwise and uncontroulable Providence, terminated in putting a period to the mortal existence of the captain, and most of the passengers. Immediately on this, they attempted to get the vessel about, and to provide themselves with another lead; but before they could accomplish either, she struck upon one of the banks below the Reculver sand. Alarmed at the shock, and stimulated by a desire to use every possible exertion to preserve the vessel, they let go their anchor, as the only remedy in this afflicting situation, and the tide flowing, she soon rode afloat. They now got their anchor again; but in hauling in the weather-jib-sheet, owing to the fury of the wind, it broke; and the lec-jib-sheet, being greatly agitated, be came unhooked. The master having stopped the tiller to leeward, sprang forward, in order to assist in getting the jib in. At this time it was that the vessel struck again; and again they let go their anchor; but now, as the height of their distress was advancing, the disastrous incidents which contributed to it, succeeded each other more rapidly, for the tiller broke; and whilst they attempted to repair it (the vessel still beating vehemently y the sand) the rudder was unflipped, and she became totally unmanageable. In this perilous condition they tried the fore-pump, which, being choked, was rendered useless. They then sounded, and found between two and thice feet water in the hold, which very soon rose above the floor of the forecastle. As they apprehended the vessel was now sinking, they slipped the cable, hoisted the foresail, and dropped the gaff, in order to let her drive in-shore; but as she could not be governed, she presently came with her broadside to the beach, and there sunk; and the tide still making, the ponderous waves rolled over her in a most tremendous manner. But no language can describe the dreadful scene which now presented itself. Nature recoils at the soul-piercing spectacle. The grim King of Terrors appeared before them in one of his most frightful forms: they saw their destruction inevitable: general consternation prevailed; and the cries of the women and children entered the very soul. The mariners, when they perceived they could do no more to save the vessel, and that they must resign her to the winds and waves, directed all their cares towards the passengers. The water had been for some time pouring into the cabin from the scuttle, the companion, and the chimney; and all attempts to stop these avenues were totally defeated, by the constant dashing of the scas over them. They therefore tried to seize the tarpawling, which covered a stack of corn upon the deck, hoping to place it over the cabin, to prevent its being inundated; but as several of the af frighted passengers had taken refuge on this stack, they could not speedily remove the tarpawling; and no time was to be lost, for the water in the cabin was increasing very rapidly, and many unhappycreatures were there fainting with fear, and almost dying with the sca-sickness. Some of these, with the assistance of the seamen and others, were immediately drawn out of this watery dungeon. It was now that Mr. Thornton was heard, in great distress, uttering the most pathetic cries for his dear wife, who was in the cabin. He succeeded in extricating her from thence; but, to add to his painful anxiety, his son, who was a passenger with them, was left to perifh there, where his corpse was afterwards found, with several others +. The unhappy man did not There were six other corpses found in the cabin; viz. those of Mrs. Owen, and her servant; Mrs. Tatnell; Mrs. Jacobs; Mr. Edinunds's son; and, John Taylor, a youth. long long retain the dear object of his affection, for he was found soon after upon the stack lamenting for the loss of her, and saying, "Alas! she is gone, whither we fhall all soon follow her!" which observation proved true in his case, for in another wave or two, he himself was swept away. John Wood, one of the mariners, relates, that when the cabin was pretty deep in water, he drew up a female; but the seas being very heavy, he could not keep his hold with one hand, in order to assist with the other; he therefore grasped with both, and let down his foot among the struggling victims, which was presently seized by one of them, whose hand he caught hold of, hoping to rescue the almost dying creature from the jaws of death; but the waters swelling higher with every rolling sea, he lost his hold, and was obliged, though, as we believe, with an aching heart, to relinquish his generous efforts, and abandon the rest of the drowning sufferers to their dismal fate, in order to provide for his own safety. From Mr. Field, a ship-carpenter, and one of the passengers, we also learn, that he was assisting to repair the tiller; but the rudder being car-, ried away during the attempt, and the vessel becoming unmanageable, he immediately anticipated what would happen, and turned, his thoughts to his own safety, and that of his beloved wife, for whom he became all ahxicty. He ran to a part of the vessel where he found some rattlingstuff, out of which he provided two lashings for himself and her. Expecting to find her in the cabin, he hastened thither, but was disappointed; for she had taken refuge on the stack. When in the cabin, he found himself nearly up to the breast in water, with the poor creatures struggling around him. His own situation here became critical; for two or three of the despairing passengers clung so fast to him, that he could not extricate himself. They were therefore drawn up together by, as he supposes, the exertions of the seamen; but owing to the darkness, of the night, dashing of the waters, and his own perturbation, he could not distinguish who were their deliverers; and he apprehends that those who were drawn up with him, were soon washed off the deck. By Having found his wife on the stack, he lashed her to the boom with one of the cords he had provided; but in his trepidation, not being able to find the other, he bound his arm to her with the end of that with which she was fastened; and in this position they remained whilst two or three heavy seas came over the vessel, which by degrees removed the stack from under them, and at length carried them both together into the sea. the providence of God however, Mr. Field, either by laying hold of the side of the vessel, or some ropes, got back again, and lodged himself in the shrouds; from whence, in the anguish of his spirit, he could not forbear calling after his dear companion, who was now perishing, and who just before had embraced him, saying, "Q my dear, what will become of, our dear children "expecting they would be left orphans. "Mr. Field says, there were with him and his wife on the stack, only Mr. Thornton and Mr. George Bone: that Mr. Thornton was first washed away, and then Mr. Bone. "When the passengers in the cabin began first to be alarmed, Mr. Bone, who was a local preacher among the Methodists, endeavoured to calm their fears by pious exhortations, and prayer to God in their behalf; in which devout exercise Mr, Field heard him afterwards upon the stack breathing out his soul to God, until the merciless waves carried him after the rest of his friends and fellow-passengers into the bosom of the deep. "Some will be desirous to know what we have learnt concerning Goodbern, Goodborn, the captain. John Wood says, that when in the shrouds, he saw Mr. Goodborn hanging by the reef-tackle: that he frequently spoke to him; but could hear nothing but his groans; and he supposes that the worthy man having his spirits broken with painful anxiety, and his strength exhausted with fatigue, was already dying; for he soon lost his hold, fell upon the deck, and was immediately washed overboard. "Although we have exerted ourselves to the utmost, in order to obtain the most accurate information respecting the calamities of this tremendous scene; yet we are not able to ascertain when the others were carried into the sea; but, from the general account given by both mariners and passengers, we may fairly conclude, that many were washed away at an early period of the distress, as they came up out of the cabin debilitated (espe cially the females) by their exertions to save themselves, their fears, and the sea-sickness; and the waves which went over them, soon became so heavy, that a strong man, in full possession of his vigour, could not retain his hold, unless he were so situated as to be beaten against some part of the tackling of the vessel, or so high in the shrouds as to be above the heavy pressure of the water. "In the midst of these deplorable circumstances, the distinguishing goodness of God was eminently displayed towards those who were preserved; and how great reason have they to admire the divine hand, when they reflect that, if the vessel had struck on sands more remote from the shore, or she had been driven into deeper water, in all probability every one must have perished." A Correct Account of the Persons on board when the Vessel stranded. LOST, from Margate. Mr. John Goodborn, captain. Mr. George Bone, carpenter; left a widow and four children. Mr. Henry Thornton, ditto, and Sarah Thornton, his wife, have left five children. Henry, their son, aged 13 years. Mrs. Crow, a widow. Thomas Edmunds, aged years, son of Mr. Tho. Edmunds, of the White Hart Inn. Miss A. Smith Nesbitt, No. 5, Holles-street, Clare-market, London. Mrs. Owen, No. 57, Rathbone-place. Elizabeth Wood, of Little Chelsea, her servant. Mary Hoof, of Rotherhithe. Sarah Watson, of Folkstone, servant at the White Hart, Margate. -- From Ramsgate. Mrs. Tatnell, of Ramsgate; left a widower and four children. Sarah Jones, No. 6, Vere street, Clare-market, London; and Robert Offspring, No. 9o, Mount-street, Grosvenor-square, both ser vants to Miss Millar. Robert Melville, of London, ostler. Thomas Farndon, of Guildford, from Mr. Pierce's, shoemaker. John Smith, Pentonville, from Mr. Spurgeon's, butcher, An American sailor, who said he had been east away before. - From Broadstairs. Mrs. Jacobs, of Broadstairs, who has left a widower with eight children; one in the Deaf and Dumb Hospital; two only capable of getting their own living; the eldest of the remaining five about 11, and the youngest under 2 years of age. Mrs. Field, of ditto, who has also left a widower with four children; the eldest of whom is but 12 years of age. John Taylor, son of J. Taylor, shipwright, of Wapping. John Beazley, No. 9, Lisbon-street, near Paddington, working-gardener, has left a pregnant widow and three children; the eldest but 8, and the youngest but 3 years of age. Persons SAVED. Mr. Jesse Carroway, Margate; Mr. Nuckell, libr Broadstairs; Mr. Taylor, Margate; Mr. Field, Broadstairs; John' Busbridge, St. Peter's; Mr. John Dear, Ramsgate.- Seamen. Edward Sayer, mate; John Smith, John Wood, William Singleton, sailors. OBITUARY. OBITUARY. BENJAMIN SILK. THE subject of this account was a remarkable instance of the afflicting and upholding hand of God. He was the son of a labouring man in this parish: and he died on Thursday, July the 16th, 1801, aged sixteen years. His disease was of the scrophulous kind. There was somewhat extraordinary in his case, separate from all religious considerations. Two years ago, last February, he was seized with the disorder which brought him eventually to the grave. One year and eight months of this period, he has been confined so closely to his bed, as to have been removed but once and then he and the bed were removed together, because the cords of the bedstead had given way. During one fortnight of his illness (some months previous to his death) he was not able to take any nutriment, except what was applied to his lips with a feather; nor did any thing solid pass through his body. He lay for eight or ten hours with scarce any appearance of sense or motion, insomuch that it could hardly be discerned whether he was dead or alive; and yet he not only survived this, but his strength was afterwards so much renewed, as to excite in the minds of his friends some faint hopes of his recovery. In what relates to his religious character I would inform you, that when he was a child, he came to me for instruction in reading and writing; which gave me an opportunity of observing the bias of his mind. I had reason at that time to expect, that in his advancing years he would be the source of much grief to his parents, and an addition to the number, already too great, of the impious and profane; but after he was put out appren tice, it pleased God to reach his heart by the influence of his efficacious grace, under the preaching of the word. His mind was now rendered so uneasy by a sense of his sin and danger, that he was obliged to rise from his bed in the night to call upon the Lord. He forsook his vain com◄ panions and his sinful practices, and he used to long for the return of the Sabbath, that he might have an opportunity of hearing more of the word of life. Thus, before his disorder was brought upon him (which renders the evidence more clear and satisfactory) his heart appears to have been turned towards God. Since his confinement he has read much, thoughs much, and had much conversation with Christian friends, many of whom have visited him; and on all whose minds, I believe, there rests an evidence, in a good measure satisfactory, that he was one who had tasted that the Lord is gracious. By these means he attained to a remarkably clear knowledge of his own character, as a vile, perishing sinner; and of the way of salvation, by the Father's grace, through the Son's merit; which he heartily approved; for he used to say, that neither his duties nor his sufferings, however severe, would save him. It would be impossible to collect, or if collected, it would occupy too much time to repeat, what fell from his lips, upon religious subjects, while he was confined to his chamber and his bed; but thus much may be said, that as a fruit and evidence of the grace which God had, I trust, implanted in his heart, he discovered much patience. In all the visits I paid him, and they were many, I never heard him utter a rebellious or murmuring expression; Though he longed to be dismissed, yet he was always ready to say, "Not my will, Lord, but thine be done; not my time but thine." He sometimes was in darkness; but at these seasons he maintained, under the encourage, ment of his word, an unshaken confidence in the truth; and goodness of the Lord; and would give him no rest till he returned with the tokens of bi s love. The light of the divine countenance, at some seasons, so VOL. X. beamed Bb beamed into his soul, as to enable him to declare, what may seem strange to a carnal heart, viz. That some of the hours spent in that gloomy chamber, on the bed of sickness, and violent pain to which he was so long confined, were the happiest portion of his mortal existence; so that pft-times, instead of receiving consolation from those that were around him, he administered unto them. To the last he maintained the same faith and resignation; and there is good reason to believe, that when his Spirit departed without a struggle or a groan, it took its flight to the bosom of his God. Basingbourne, MRS. MARY RIPPON S. B. Was born near Exeter, about the year 1726. Of her early years I have no account, but learn that, at twenty-five years of age, she was left a widow, with two small children, and in very narrow circumstances: the great anxiety she felt for their temporal welfare, frequently plunged her into a state bordering on distraction. At length it was suddenly impressed on her mind to pray to God for relief. Hitherto she had been a total stranger to prayer; but was now enabled to call upon the Lord with great fervency of soul; and rose from her knees, greatly comforted, by an assurance that he would provide for her and her children, and never permit them to suffer want.— Her expectations were realized; for having learned a business, she was enabled to procure the needful supplies for herself and them. The time was now drawing near when the Lord designed to make her a partaker of greater promises and nobler prospects, by calling her to the knowledge of himself. Her first awakenings rose from seeing a person of great reputed sanctity in deep distress of soul, complaining of a dreadful temp tation to destroy herself, and insisting on the certainty of her eternal destruction, if she should die in her present state. nished Mrs. Rippon, and others who were present; and they endeavoured to This greatly astocomfort her, by their referring to the piety and devotion of her character; but she still persisting in her awful apprehensions, left thein. This event made an impression on Mrs. Rippan's mind, never to be erased. She was led to compare the state of her neighbour with her own.—If a person of so great apparent piety was so alarmed, what must be her condition who had paid no attention to divine things? She now resolved to read her Bible carefully, and she prayed that she might understand the truths contained in it; but feeling more deeply her ignorance, earnestly desiring instruction, and seeking it in vain, under the ministry in that neighbour hood, she resolved to come to London, and applied to a relation for the address of a pious daughter of his, who resided there. But that enmity which is in the natural man against religion, induced him to refuse the information, because he said his daughter was a Methodist. Not at all discouraged, she came to town, providentially heard of her cousin, and, perceiving the spiritual wisdom of her husband as well as herself, with the attended the preaching at Tottenham Court Chapel. Sometime in the year 1770, during the afternoon preaching, she was deeply afflicted on account of her sins. On her return home, she retired to her chamber and being called to tea, was found weeping, under a sense of her lost condition. Her valuable friends rejoiced to see the good work begun in her soul, and thought it prudent not to disturb her. In this distress of soul she continued for a long season; but at length deliverance came.— It was her custom to have her Bible on the table while she worked at her needle, and thus, while busily employed, to glance at some part of her brioved book: and in this way the Lord was pleased to set her soul ar joyful |