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.
_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.