A BRIEF ACCOUNT
OF MY
ELDEST DAUGHTER, MARGARET BAYLEY,
Who died in the twenty-fourth year of her age.
She was a pleasant child in her manners and behaviour, yet fond of gay dress and new fashions; yet her mind was much inclined to her book, and to read good lessons.
And it pleased the Father of mercy to open her understanding, to see excellent things out of his law, and to convince her that it was his will she should be holy here and happy hereafter; but custom, habit, and shame, seemed to chain her down, so that she appeared like one that was halting between two opinions.
But about a month before she was taken for death, she went to Meeting under a concern about her future state; and the Meeting appeared to be favoured with the out pouring of the spirit of love, and of power: Margaret came home under great concern of mind, and manifested a wonderful change in her manners and behaviour; I believe the whole family were affected at the sight of the alteration, which indeed appeared like that of the prodigal son coming home to his father; for my own part I felt fear and great joy; such was her delight to read the Bible, and ask the meaning of certain texts of Scripture, which evidenced a concern to make sure work for eternity.
In this frame of mind she was taken for death; she appeared very desirous to live for the first four weeks, but was very patient, and of a sweet temper and disposition all the time: I recollect but one instance when she was known to give way to peevish fretfulness; then I, feeling the evil spirit striving to get the advantage of her, very tenderly and earnestly admonished her not to regard trifles, but to look to that power which was able to save her; and from that time she became passive and resigned.
The following two weeks her pain was great, and baffled all the force of medicine: a few days before her departure, she was urged with much brokenness of heart to make confession; when she was let into a view of the vanity of the world, with all its glittering snares; and said, she could not rest till her hair was cut off; for she said, “I was persuaded to plait my hair against my father’s advice, and I used to tie up my head when father would come to see me, and hide ruffles and gay dress from him, and now I cannot rest till my hair is cut off.” I said, “no, my daughter, let it be till thee gets well:” she answered, “Oh! no, cut it now:” so I to pacify her took and cropped it.
After this she appeared filled with raptures of joy, and talked of going, as if death had lost its sting; this was about three days before her departure; she seemed to have her senses as long as she could speak: a little before her speech left her, she called us all, one by one, held out her hand, bade us farewell, and looked as if she felt that assurance and peace that destroyed the fear of death; and while she held out her hands, she earnestly charged us to meet her in heaven.
Thus ends the account of Margaret Bayley, daughter of Solomon and Thamar Bayley, who departed this life the 26th of the 3rd month, 1821, aged twenty-three years, eleven months, and twenty-eight days.
TO THE PIOUS READER.
I desire to give the pious, a brief account of the life and death of my youngest daughter, Leah Bayley, who departed this life the 27th of the 7th month, 1821, aged twenty-one years, six months, and one day.
She, from a child, was more weak and sickly than her sister Margaret, and the thought of leaving her here in this ill-natured world caused me many serious moments; but the great Parent of all good, in the greatness of his care, took her away, and relieved me of the care of her for ever.
Weakness of body and mind appeared in her as she grew up; and an inclination to vanity and idleness; but being bound out under an industrious mistress, to learn to work and to have schooling, her mind soon became much inclined to her book and then to business. Her school mistress gave her a little book, concerning some pious young people that lived happily and died happily, and were gone to heaven: namely,
Young Samuel, that little child,
Who served the Lord, liv’d undefiled.
Like young Abijah I must be,
That good things may be found in me.
Young Timothy, that blessed youth,
Who sought the Lord and loved the truth.
I must not sin as others do
Lest I lie down in sorrow too.
These blessed examples won her heart, so as to bury every other enjoyment: she seemed to possess as great a deadness to the world, as any young woman I ever observed: she seemed not ashamed to read in any company, white or coloured; and she read to the sick with intense desire, which appeared from her weeping, and solid manner of behaviour. She seemed to desire to walk in the fear of the Lord all the day long: every body that observed her, remarked her serious steady behaviour; she seemed as if she was trying to imitate those good children whom she read about; and so continued until she was taken sick; and although her sickness was long and sharp, yet she bore it like a lamb.
A few days before her decease, I was noticing how hard she drew her breath: she looked very wistful at me, and said, “O! father, how much I do suffer:” I answered, “yes, my dear, I believe thee does:” then, after a long pause, she said, “but I think I never shall say I suffer too much:” this I apprehend was extorted from a view of the sufferings of Christ, and her own imperfections: this was about three days before her decease. The day she died, she called us all, one by one, and like her sister Margaret, held out her hand, and with much composure of mind bade us farewell, as if she was only going a short walk, and to return.