Joanna continued to assist her mother until 1795, when she was married to Mr. Divie Bethune, a gentleman characterized, like herself, by ardent piety, a strong, cultivated mind, sound doctrinal views, great desire and great aptness for usefulness, so that their union, while it increased their personal and domestic happiness, favored yet more their zeal and faculties for doing good. For twenty-nine years Mr. and Mrs. Bethune walked hand in hand through the private and social duties of the Christian life, encouraging and assisting each other in successive plans of religious and philanthropic exertion, which have been, some of them for many years, and are not less at present, abounding streams of usefulness in this city, throughout the land, and in many foreign parts, making glad the City of our God.

Mrs. Bethune's personal narrative during this period, from 1789 to 1795, in the manuscript already referred to, and from which large extracts have already been made, is so full of interest that I transcribe it almost verbatim.

"We left Scotland in 1789, and, after passing through a fiery trial, arrived in New York September 8th of that year. The Lord greatly blessed us, and gave us favor in the eyes of this people. He also provided for us Christian friends, Rev. Dr. Rodgers, Dr. Mason [the elder], and Mr. Mason, John M. Mason [afterward the eminent Dr.], dear Mr. Chrystie, and others. The first winter I was confined entirely to the house with rheumatism in my head,

while my sisters were visiting about; yet it pleased the Lord to make this trial a blessing to me. In my retirement and frequent solitude I remembered my evil ways, and loathed myself for my sins in God's sight. I read Doddridge's Rise and Progress through, prayed over all the prayers in it, and, in the spring of 1790, began to attain some degree of comfort. Dr. Mason often called and spoke to us in the most affectionate manner, never failing to melt me into tears. My mother saw that I was deeply exercised, and persuaded me to call on Dr. M., who seemed pleased with my exercises, and advised me to come forward to the sacramental table. I think that I was sincere, and desired with my whole heart to belong to the Lord; but I had not yet attained sufficient assurance. Had

I continued to follow on to know the Lord, no doubt I should have attained to that grace; but alas! alas! like the Israelites who longed after the flesh-pots of Egypt, I imagined that I might indulge in what the world calls innocent amusements. I did not go to the play-houses or other public places of diversion, except occasionally to a concert; but I attended private dancing parties, and was too fond of gay, thoughtless people, and, in consequence, I was miserable. I was trying to serve God and Mammon. Often, when in company, I used to look round me and wonder if there were any there besides my sister and myself who professed to be followers of the meek and lowly Jesus, to take up the cross and go after Him through evil as well as through good report. I had often

convictions that I ought to come out from the world entirely, but had not the resolution. By degrees I discovered the emptiness of all created enjoyments, and for a considerable time continued to be unhappy in worldly company. I was often tempted to stay away from the Lord's table. I dreaded death. I knew that I was acting contrary to the law of God, and feared that I should be cast out at last. I was even tempted to wish I had never heard the Gospel in my youth, that it might make a stronger impression on my mind as if I heard it for the first time. I thought that I had sinned away my day of grace, and had become hardened under the droppings of the sanctuary. I prayed the Lord to afflict me, to do any thing to me so that I might attain comfort at last. But still I did not cut with the world—I did not give Him my whole heart. In 1793 I formed an acquaintance with an Irish gentleman, who paid me great attention. I was pleased with him, for he was well read, especially in poetry, of which I was then passionately fond. I gave him no encouragement except my company, which I now think was wrong. He often said that I had but one fault, which was being too religious. Alas! I thought myself any thing but that. One Sabbath evening he persuaded the maid to let him into the room where we generally sat, and on my coming in from attending church the third time that day, I found him there. He immediately began to talk of the folly of going so often to church, and that he hoped to get me where the sound

of the church bell was never heard. I shrank from him with horror, and from that time I determined not only to break with him, but also never to give my company to any man connected with whom I might be exposed to breaking the Sabbath, or to temptation which I was convinced I could not resist. I might have formed a matrimonial connection with a wealthy merchant, but was preserved; or, rather, Providence so ordered circumstances that he who afterward became my beloved husband was the only one who actually proposed to me, which was rather unexpected, as, although he was a frequent visitor and highly esteemed, I knew not at the time of the strong attachment he felt for unworthy me. At the communion table, after my dismissal of my Irish lover, I made a solemn vow that I would never connect myself in marriage with one who was not a decided Christian in profession and practice, but would rather lead a single life.

'During the following winter, say 1793–94, I occasionally went to private parties, and we had sometimes dancing in our house; but I had no relish for such enjoyments. Mr. Bethune told us of Dr. Rodgers's and Dr. Livingston's lectures on Wednesday and Thursday evenings, and also the prayer-meeting on Tuesday evenings, maintained by the Wall Street Church people in their lecture-room on Nassau Street, near Wall (west side). My sister and myself resolved to attend them, which we did. My religious exercises of mind were deepened, but still I was without

assurance.

I no longer hungered and thirsted after the world; its pleasures were husks and chaff in my mouth, and bitterness in retrospection; but still I did not altogether decline invitation, partly because my sister wished to go, partly because I knew not what excuse to make, and dreaded the laugh of the world. Toward the middle of the winter I spoke again to my sister, and we agreed to set apart Wednesday and Thursday evenings for attending the lectures of Drs. Livingston and Rodgers, and when invited out on those evenings to answer we 'were engaged.' The very next Thursday we received an invitation from one of our former boarding scholars to an evening party given as a farewell to New York. Upon our returning an answer that we were engaged, she called herself to see if we could not break the engagement, or if we could not go to tea, to come to her as late even as 9 o'clock. To this my sister consented. Never, never shall I forget the lecture of that evening. Dr. Rodgers's subject was the 38th question and answer of the Shorter Catechism: 'What benefits do believers receive from Christ at the resurrection?' Ans. At the resurrection, believers, being raised up in glory, shall be openly acknowledged and acquitted in the day of judgment, and made perfectly blessed in the full enjoying of God to all eternity.' While the good old doctor explained and commented, I inwardly prayed that I might be among that happy number, and felt such a solemnity on my mind that the world and every thing in it seemed like nothing,