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     BY d^WRAL, M> DICAL. GKNTLFMBN.

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i'W^'W'VVW'WWWWV'WWWV^V \
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                                "Affl
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(SBfSBKi
 
MISS  IRAfCMEL.  BA1KETR
Copyright  +ecure«£. 
/
         V DEVOTIONAL



        S  OMNIUM;


              OH, A COLLECTION OF


PRAYERS AND EXHORTATIONS,


                "  UTTERED BY


   MISS RACHEL  BAKER,

In the Ciiy of New- York, in the winter of 1815, during

       her abstracted and toiconscious state ;


   To which pious and unprecedented exercises is prefixed,


      AN ACCOUNT OF HER LIFE,


WITH THE MANNER IN WniCII KI1E BECA ME POWERFUL IN
 FUlSli'lOdODAM) ADDRESSES TO M A .\ ;  TOGETHER W I TII
  A VIEW OF THAT FACU1 T .' OF Tim HUMAN MIND WHICH
  IS INTERMEDIATE BETWEEN SLEEVING AND WAKING.
   THEFtCTS,  ATTESTED BY THE MOST RESPECTAHLE
    DIVINES, PHYSICIANS, A N 1> LITERARY GENTLE-
     MEN; AND THE DISCOURSES, CORRECTLY NOTED
           BY CLERICAL STENOGRAPHERS.
BY SEVERAL MEDICAL GENTLEMEN.
         NEW-YORK:

PRINTED FOR  THE PROPRIETOR,,

    By S. Marks, 63 Anthoay-street.
II*- 
 DISTRICT OF NE W- YORK, SS.
   Be it remembered that on the fourth day of April, in the thirty-ninth
 year of  the Independence of the  United States of America, Henry
 T. Kiersted of the said district,  lias deposited in this office the title of a
 book, the right whereof he claims as proprietor, in  the  words  and
 figures following, to wit:
   Devotional Soranium; or, a collection of Prayers and Exhortation-,
 uttered by Miss Rachel Baker, in the city of New-York, in the winter
 of 1815,  during her abstracted  and unconscious state; to which pious
 and unprecedented exercises is prefixed, an account of her Life ;  with
 the manner in which she became  powerful in praise to  God, and ad-
 dresses to Man;  together  with a  view of that faculty of the human
 mind which is intermediate between Sleeping and Waking.   The facts,
 attested  by the most  respectable  Divines, Physicians, and Literary
 gentlemen; and the Discourses, correctly taken by clerical Stenogra-
 phers. By several Medical Gentlemen.
   In conformity to the act of the congress of the United States, entitled
 "An Act for the Encouragement of Learning, by  securing  the copies
 of Maps Charts, and Books to the authors and proprietors of such co-
pies,  during the times therein mentioned."  And also to an act,  enti-
 tled "an Act, supplementary to an Act, entitled  an  Act for the  En-
couragement of Learning, by securing the  copies of Maps Charts,  and
 Books to the authors and proprietors of such copies, during the timrs
 therein  mentioned, and extending the benefits thereof to the arts of
rleeigning, engraviDg, and etching historical and other prints."
                                   THERON RUDD,
                         Clerk (if the Southern District qf Nt.rv-YorV 
                   TO
     J3EWITT CLINTON, LL. 1).
 President of the Literary and Philosophical
    Society of New-Yuri:,  8£c. ££c. ££c.
   Tin: promoter of  useful  and honourable
 undertakings;  the  Statesman, the Patriot,
 and the Gentleman.  This attempt to define
 that province of the human mind that is inter-
 mediate between Sleeping and Waking,  and
 to arrange a most prominent case, now and for
 years  observed  among us by thousands of
 witnesses,  with  the other numerous and im-
portant phenomena of Somnium, into a sys-
tematic form for the consideration of Divines,
Physicians, Moralists, and for the curious
and intelligent citizens of every class;
           Is respectfully inscribed
                      by the Authors, 
 
        INTRODUCTION.




   The mind naturally revolts at the idea of what
is  strange or unaccountable.   Although nothing
else is capable of stretching our credulity so far as
a wonder, to which we have yielded our assent;  it
is  perhaps equally true that  nothing else is more
likely to provoke our intolerence before the assent
has been extorted" by evidence.   Persons who had
,'Kiver heard of dreams that were attended with re-
gular and  connected discourse, were at first dispo-
sed to  look upon  the  nightly exercises of  Miss
Rachel Baker, as  a  grievous and  abominable
imposture.  Accordingly, when she was brought
to New-York, some treated her name with derision,
some with contempt, and others with a severity
that would persecute.   This was to be expected.
That an ignorant girl  of 19 years of age,  should
dream  in  a course  of enlightened theology, and
should  at the  same time express her thoughts in
i-.rvid and eloquent language,  with  a clearness, arj
                   A3 
6
order,  and a force, far beyond any attainment of
her waking efforts; that  she should do this, too,
in the form of an exhortation to an assembled audi-
ence, preceded  and concluded by  a kind of mini-
sterial prayer; such an occurrence  was too much
out of the common track of experience to be readily
acknowledged.
   The progress of things, however,  soon produced
a change of public opinion in her favour.   People
were allowred to witness and to examine the occa-
sion of their uncharitable sentiments, and the con-
sequence was a reversal,  almost without exception,
of their previous convictions.
   Indeed,  the  unanimity of public opinion, has
now become an  argument of no small weight, in
confirmation of various other proofs, to show that
this  young lady's misfortune is real,  and beyond
her controul.  Hypocrisy is unequal to a part like
hers.  It  is  true  that insencerity,  in mere  cold
reasoning,  is not always  easily  discovered.  Any
ingenius  intellect  may practise it  without much
danger of detection.  But the discernment  of  the
heart is keen and quick;  it  is a kind of  sense; it
perceives and distinguishes  with the certainty and
promptitude of instinct; it cannot long be deceived
or eluded  in regard to a question depending upon
evidences with which it is familiar.  Moral eviden-
ces are  not  successfully counterfeited, without a
combination of more art,  and more  knavery, than 
i
youth, to say the least,  is generally heir to.  He
who attempts to practise imposition  here,  has to
contend, not only with the understanding, but also
with the common sense  and  feeling of  mankind.
Perhaps there never was a theatrical actor,  who
did not  in every scene of his performance,  offend
more or less against the nice and subtle rules to
which nature conforms, and which they who would
personify her must accurately fulfil. Ingenuous sen-
timents, in  particular, have their appropriate ex-
pression, in forms to which chicane and fraud can
Jay no hopeful claim.   When therefore, those who
are present at a moral exhibition addressed entirely
to their better  feelings,  instead of being repelled
and disgusted by any awTkward signs of hypocrisy.
are insensibly rifled of suspicions which  they had
fondly cherished, and are  silently led over from an
involuntary transition  from  doubt  to belief, and
from repugnance to sympathy and approbation ;  a
strong  probability arises that truth is gained by
the  revolution thus effected.  But  it would seem
that with persons acquainted with the story of Miss
Rachel Baker,-she can  need no  laboured de-
fence.   The  character  and circumstances of her
family,  the uniform simplicity and integrity of her
life, and the unquestionable piety which has dis-
tinguished  its  progress  for several years past; all
conspire to fix  the most  favourable and friendly
impressions upon the mind of the observer.  So 
8
.striking is the evidence on this head, that the sup-
position of her having been guilty of four year?'
habitual  and  painful  imposture, without reward.
and without imaginable object, is more violent, and
involves greater mystery, than  that which leaves
her reputation unimpeached; besides,  it happens
that  her case  is not singular.  There are upon re-
cord several others of a similar nature, and  which,
if they can be explained  at  all,  must doubtless be
accounted  for upon  the same  general principle.
Some of them have  been collected, and are  now
presented in connexion, to the world, in the hope
of facilitating the investigation of a satisfactory the-
ory on the subject.  It is therefore  considered as
at length definitively settled, that the human mind
is capable of regular  and systematic operations in
time of  sleep,  or at  least, ill some intermediate
state  between sleeping  and waking.    It  will be
seen in an ingenious  dissertation, which  the editor
has the  satisfaction of presenting  from  the pen of
the learned Doctor Mitchill, that  he classes such
exercises under the general name of Somnium, or
Dreaming.
  If others have  a better name  to propose, the
field is open.   The phenomena  certainly admits of
his classification, and it does not at present appear
what substantial objection can  lie against it,  There
is a description of persons in the community, who,
in the superstition  of their credulity, have imagined 
9
that Miss Baker's  discourses are dictated by an
extraordinary agency of  the Divine Spirit.   This
conjecture is perfectly gratuitous; the case does
not require it,  and she herself explicitly  discards
it.  The end of celestial revelations is long past,
and it is equally weak and presumptuous to talk of
their renewal in our day.
   Nor is  their  any need of converting the wonder
into a miracle,  in order to explain it;  a  little in-
quiry  into the  nature and  principle of dreaming;
will reward the pains of him  who will submit to
take them, with a much more credible  solution of
the problem.  Of sleep, indeed, we know almost
nothing but the  fact; it seems to be an  incident ra-
ther of our animal,  than of our  mental  being; it is
also probably capable of a great variety of degrees,
to which we  may suppose the  activity of the soul
to bear some intimate relation and  proportion: at
any rate,  this we know,  that  notwithstanding the
soporific influences  which prevail over the body,
the mind acts  powerfully in dreams, and not un-
frequently puts the sleeping body itself  in motion,
and  produces  speaking,  walking, running,  and
sometimes a  long course of  perfectly rational con-
duct. What  then, is so distinguishingly wonderful
in the case of Rachel, that it should not be classed
with these phenomena ? Is it a thing for miraculous
construction, that among a  multitude  of rational
and systematic  dreamers, there happens to be one 
le
who finds a subject of discourse in the momentous
interests of her religion ?
   The only thing remaining to be  supplied  is a
correct theory of dreaming;  this the editor  prer
tends not to furnish.  It is the extent of his  pre-
tensions to give to the public,  a collection of clas-
sified and authenticated facts;  most of which are at
once new and indubitable.  Some extracts are  aiso
reprinted  from the works of distinguished men in
relation to the cause or causes to which such facts
are to be attributed.  To determine the merits of
these extracts, and further  to develope the inter-
esting subject of  which  they regard,  is  submitted
to the  learned and the  curious,  who have more
leisure and ability for  the inquiry.
            JOHN H. DOUGLASS,  M.D.
   Jtpril&l, ±815. 
11
 To Mr. Ezekiel Baker,  Marcellus,  On-
        ondaga, State of New-York.
                   New-York, Jan. 3, 1815.
 Dear Sir,
   The high sense I entertain of the private
 and religious character of your daughter Ra-
 »hel, of her  total unconsciousness  of what
 she utters in her evening exercises, and of
 the salutary influence her performances have
 had upon the minds of many young females
 in this city, causes this  communication and
 request.  The Rev.  David Rathbone, and
 his lady,  brought Miss Rachel to  my house,
 in this city, in October,  for medical aid and
 advice.  Her case being new and  extraordi-
 nary, I thought it proper to call  in council
 Doctors Mitchill,  Birch,  Mott,  aud Bruce:
 we were, after a full investigation of the case,
 unanimously of opinion, that medicine ought
 to be withheld  at  present, and  until it was
 ascertained that her evening exercises injured
 her health.  During her stay in this city, she
 was visited by many of our respectable  di-
vines, physicians, literary and religious char
acters, both in  her wakeful and unconscious
state; all of whom were perfectly satisfied ef
her integrity and purity of thought. 
IK
   A few benevolent persons proposed to your
 daughter to afford her an education, if she
 would place herself under their care; pledg-
 ing themselves that  the  pious breathings of
 her soul in her state of Devotional Somnium,
 should  be  exposed  only to a few discreet,
 thinking, and pious persons.  This offer,
 though grateful to your daughter's feelings,
 was declined "until the opinion and consent
 of  her parents could  be had on the subject.
 I presume * ere this she has  reached home,
 and tliat the family have settled the question
 in their own minds; be that as it may, I shall
 be much obliged by your furnishing me with
 such history of her case, as your family and
 the church of which she is a member, are in
 possession of.   We think that it is  due to the
 literary   community, and  to the  church at
 large, that the whole  history of  this surpri-
 sing ease should  be communicated.  The
 case is  indeed interesting to the physician,
 philosopher, and divine; will it not confound
 the theory of those who  think that the soul is
matter highly  organized,  and the kindred
opinion that the soul sleeps; .but I confess my
inability  at present to  account for the pheno-
menon in all its parts, and therefore must be 
I.J
silent.   I have  written to the Rev.  David
liathbone on the subject, and desired that
you would unite in a statement of facts.
       I am with considerations of
          esteem and respect
             your humble servant,
               JOHN H. DOUGLASS.


 To Dr. John H. Douglass,  city of New-
                  York,
           Scirio, Cayuga county, Jan, 19, 1815.
Dear Sir,
   Your two favours  of  the 3d instant,  ad-
 dressed to Mr.  Baker and myself, came safe
to hand.  The  history and detail of facts
which you require are herewith communica-
ted.  If, in  your opinion, the publication of
tliem will tend to give a correct direction to
the general judgment,  or aid you and your
friend  Doctor Miichill in forming a theory
of the delicate and complicated machinery of
the human mind,  they are at your disposal.
   .Miss Rachel Baker was born at Pelham,
county of Hampshire, and state of Massachu-
setts, on M;iy »y, A. D. 1794.   She was the
eldest daughter of Ezekiel and Hannah Ba- 
14
ker; they were of the Presbyterian peisua
sion,  of good  repute, though not opulent.
She lived with her parents at Pelham until
she was nine  years  old 5 at  this age she
scarcely knew her letters, having had but one
month's school  instruction.   From Pelham,
in 1803, she removed with her  parents to
Mareellus, in the county of  Onondaga, and
state of New-York, where she at present re-
sides, with them.  By information from her
parents, I  learn that  she has had but six
months  schooling in the place where he  now
resides; yet so  far as  parental  example, fre-
quent hearing the word of God read in the
family,  and expounded by public  preachers
could influence, she might be said to  have
known the Holy Scriptures from  a  child.
She informs me that in her  childhood, she
frequently had strong convictions of the im-
portance of eternal things; particularly when
she was about  nine years old, the thoughts
©f God and eternity would make her tremble.
All who were best acquainted with her from
her childhood say,  that she was always of a
serious  make, of few words, timorous and
much given to melancholy, and to this day
she appears when awake, to be far from pos- 
15
 sessingvery quick perceptions, a penetrating
 discernment, or lively sensations: these, and
 other  mental faculties, in the opinion of all
 those best acquainted with  her, are far from
 being  beyond what is sommon to  females.
 In June, 1811, she came to Scipio on a vi-
 sit, and  was present at the baptism of a
 youni; lady, at our place  of worship; the ad-
 ministration of  the   ordinance struck her.
 mind with a sense of serious  things; after
 which she returned toMarcellus, and as she
 says, strove to  quell every serious thought,
 and felt determined to hide her feelings from
 every  person; but her mind was impressed
 with such  an  idea  of her sinfulness, and
 wretched state,  that  her  distress was almost
 insupportable; this was too plainly depicted
 in her countenance, to be kept hid.  She was
 frequently solicited to tell  the cause of her
 dejection,  but she remained silent until the
 fii-A of November; in the evening,  she was
 sitting by the lire-side with  her mother, the
 rest of the family being absent, her mother
 began  to question her closely respecting the
 state of her  mind: she sat silent for a few
minutes as  though she heard  her  not, and
 then burst into a flood of tears and exclaimed 
                   16
■•'I am  undone!*' I  am  a sinner, and  the
greatest on earth! I am going down to hell
without  a Christ to appear for me!  I have
denied his name; I have  sinned against him
with a high  hand and with an outstretched
arm;  I  cannot,  dare not pray:  but I wish
you mother, never to name to any person my
situation.  Her mother endeavoured to com-
fort her,  by  saying that Christ came to seek
and to save that which was lost;  but instead
of comforting her with these words, it seem-
ed only to encrease her distress ; she appear-
ed to be on the brink of despair; for a num-
ber of days she took but little food, and sleep
had, in  a great measure departed from her.
  In this same month, if  my memory serves,
she commenced her night  talking.  The first
time she talked in her sleep, was about  the
88th November, 1811.  She was then sitting
in her chair; (she had  been observed to be
nodding) she began with sighing and groaning
as in excessive  pain,  which  caused great
alarm to all  the family.   They were  at first
apprehensive that she was making her exit.
A short time before this, she said she had but
a short time to live;  and  now making use of
similar  expressions, confirmed her parents 
i/'
in the belief, that she was now about to leave
them;  however, their fears began to abate
soon after she commenced talking.  She talked
then,  like one somewhat deranged, and ap-
peared to be much  distressed about herseli
and her  mates.   There was not much regu-
larity in  her first evening's talk ; she would
be one minute begging for mercy like one in
extreme  anguish; another minute warning
her mates; telling them  not to do as she had
done, but to take warning by her; she was
going down  to hell!
   Shi? continued in this way of talking in her
sleep  till January 27, 1813.   This memora-
ble evening, soon after she retired to bed, she
was seized with horror and trembling; sliQ
gave a loud shriek and  awoke greatly terri-
fied with a sense of her deplorable condition.
Her lienors in this situation exceed descrip-
tion.  Awful terrors seemed  to have taken
possession of her; her affrighted imagination
seemed haunted with dreadful spectres; she
said that one of the infernal fiends was grasp-
ing her,  and would drag her down to the bot-
tomless pit!  a fathomless abyss! a dread eter-
nity were full in view ! her cries were enough
to shock any one who reflected at all, that it is a
                  B2 
18
a fearful thing to fall a sinner into the hands of
the living God. She appeared now more thai:
ever, distressed for  her soul;  indeed, she
appeared to be terrified into the  apprehen-
sion that her condemnation was sealed.   De-
spair and anguish seemed  settled on every
feature;  at  the same time  she appeared to
have a deeper, and more agonising sense of
her  own vileness in  the sight of  an holy
God.  The whole house became  very much
alarmed; this was a solemn  spectacle to be-
hold; this was the night, she says, that she
gave herself up unreservedly into  the hands
of Almighty God and heard those heart com-
forting  expressions : " daughter,  be of good
cheer, thy sins  are  forgiven thee."  After
this  she appeared to  be restored to a calm
unruffled serenity of soul;  all within was
harmony and love; and every breath, prayer,
and  praise, she expressed  herself in words
like  the  following:  " I, even I, will ever
praise and  bless  thy  holy name, and will
not forget  thy mercy to so ill-deserving a
creature.  Thou hast set me as a monument
of thy sparing mercy.  O can it be  that I,
even I, should ever taste the sweets of  re-
" -nciliation with so pure  a God."  There 
19
has a;;;,eared a great alteration in  her mind
from this time,  and although she continued
to talk in her sleep  almost every night, yet
her talk was much more  regular after this,
and the theme was changed.  She would of-
ten speak of that memorable  evening,  and
say, that she trusted that a gracious God ap-
peared for her,  and brought her out of dark-
ness into his marvellous light; that after this
she  had the  comfort of a good hope.   Her
exercises of mind, and views of divine things,
were expressed by her  in her evening rever-
ies in  such a  manner  as  seemed to  satisfy
every body that heard  her, that she was sin-
cere, and not conscious of what she uttered
in her night talks: and all we know respect-
ing her views and exercises of  mind; or, in
other words, the points most worthy of no-
tice  in her life and  christian  exercises, we
collect from her evening talk;  and no one I
believe,  can  hear her  thus pray and exhort,
without  feeling that she has made eminent
attainments in  christian knowledge.   Many
persons of judgment in Marcellus,  who had
been acquainted  with  Rachel,  from the time
she  was brought there by her parents, and
knew wht't her  education  had been, w:re 
'::0
•struck with  the greatest astonishment when
they heard her talk in her sleep: and said,
one to another, " this is  truly  wonderful!
Rachel never appeared to us to be endowed
with a well cultivated, sound understanding.
or sensible mind; we never thought her act-
ive, or to be favoured with an uncommon flow
of animal spirits ; her countenanoe never was
lively and  expressive; she never  was fond
of reading.  How is  it possible she  should
talk thus? When she is awake  she introdu-
ces no conversation with any one, and does
not appear to  be possessed of a clear mind
in the scriptures,  a retentive memory, nor  a
good judgment."
   The pathetic and  solemn manner  of her
addresses, was deeply  impressive, and no
feeling mind could  remain unaffected ;  and
it is belbvcd, that God hath by his holy spi-
rit, made her evening exercises effectual, for
saving good to many precious  and immortal
souls.  She united with a respectable Pres-
byterian  church  under  the pastoral care of
Mr. Parsons, in  Marcellus, in June, 181S.
She was much esteemed  by all the  pious,
and  appeared to  give evidence  to all of her
^xnee're loye to the cawse of Christ.  She ma- 
M
nifested a wcaneJness from the vices, vani-
ties, and sinful pleasures of this vain world.
As  she talks but little when L she is awake,
and  does not appear capable of communica-
tine her views  and exercises of mind to any
one, we are obliged to judge  from her ex-
pressions  when asleep what her ideas are,
respecting the doctrines of grace, and so al-
so respecting all her religious exercises.   In
her eveng talk  she expresses great desires
after near  communion with  God in  religi-
ous  duties; and often repeats,  God  is my
friend,  what can I wish for more; and ex-
presses a feeling sense of her dependence on
God, to cleanse and  renew her heart:  very
frequently says, that  she  highly prized the
priviledge of hearing God's word dispensed;
the great  doctrines of grace which the word
contains, were pleasing to her; that she re-
joiced in the government of  God,  and  had
delightful views of a Redeemer's blood,  a-
tonement and  righteousness, and  said she
could  give  herself up to her God  and he?
Saviour forever.  As her evening exercises
begin with prayer: after which  she exhorts,
and then makes a  closing prayer: I would
observe on each: In her prayers for herself, 
243
expressions like the following  abound. O
Lord,  I know not why thou hast  sent  this
trial upon me; I feel it an arduous task,  and
yet a wo denounced against me if I go not
forward in this duty.  Thou hast put  this
cup of affliction into  my hands ;  O suffer me
not to complain; cause me  to acquiesce in
thy will; let me not live in the omission of
any duties;  keep me from murmuring under
trying  dispensations, and make me to sub-
mit without repining; make me content to be
as thou ssest best; let me not grieve thy holy
spirit;  let  my life be a life of  self denial;
command and  give  me strength to obey ; O
give me humility of heart to face a frowning
world with confidence.  Thou know est I am
a poor ignorant child, and can do nothing of
myself; I resign my  heart,  my  choice,  my
will to  thee ; O give me to drink of the  well
of salvation; I entreat  of thee for Christ's
sake to give me thy  holy spirit to  enlighten
my mind,  and fill my heart with  faith and
love ;  that I, even I, may  speak for thee."
In her prayers she would often confess to  God
the little  progress she made in the things
of religion, and would pray that she might not
be suffered to sink down into ?i cold and  life- 
&5
less frame of mind.  She prayed  much for
the, church of Christ; for all ministers of the
gospel; for sinners, she expressed ardent de-
sires  that God would give them a sense of
their danger, and enable them to apply to the
Saviour, who is willing to save all them that
come unto  him,  even the chief of sinners.
Lastly, she prayed for her parents,  and for
the spiritual good of her natural brethren and
sisters.   In her  exhortation  to sinners, she
would beg them not to  give  sleep to  their
eyes, nor slumber to their eye-lie.s, till they
had  made their peace with God; and would
tell shem that he longed for the salvation of
their souls, and would beseesh them not to
neglect their souls' salvation till it would be
too late, &c. &e.
   The force of such warnings was hard to
evade ;  the arrows of conviction has reach-
ed many  hearts.   In January,  1S13,  she
came to Scipio to reside with her aunj;, as an
apprentice to  the mantaumaking  business.
She  attended public worship  with us on
Lord's days, &c.  &c.   On February 2t, she
became a member of our church ; when  she
visited  New-York in October, for medical
advice.   The church gave her a recommen. 
^ 4
dation as a member in good iVllowship, and
thus I have given you a brief account of M iss
Rachel Baker.
         From your affectionate friend
              DAVID RATHBONE. 
,tj
An arrangement of those parts of the pheno-
   mena of the human mind,  which belong to
   the function of Somnium,  astute which is
   intermediate between waking and sleeping.
   By SAMUEL  L. MITCHILL, M. D. & P.


   In contemplating the human mind, the in-
ternal faculties have been arranged under the
names  of memory, imagination, and  judg-
ment.  Memory has  been subdivided  infr>
recollection and reminiscence.   The former
being the power by which the will can recal
or revive absent ideas at puasure:  and the
latter, the power to know aed recognize them
whenever they are presented without  being
-ought.   Imagination does not adhere to  fact
and reality as memory  daes; it forms  fanci-
ful images, and deals in supposed cases,  and
is  distributed into probable, and improbable.
The first of these is engaged  iu fable,  and in
combinations of thoughts that are probable, or
at least within the verge of possibility.  The
second associates mental foi  ns in a manner
that is unnatural, and frequently impossible.
Judgment is  exercised  in  ex^aiirtu,^  the
whole collection  of ideas, and in deducing
                    C 
26
  therefrom, the conclusions necessary to di-
  rect the mind in concerns of physical science,
  and of moral agency.
    Memory is occupied chiefly in recording
  or narrating the events of history.   Imagina-
  tion  employs itself in contriving by fiction
  the scenes of poetry, and of allegorical sculp-
  ture and painting; while judgment, on a sur-
— vey of the entire stock of knowledge exercises
  the understanding in deducing serious or im-
  portant results.
    There are three states of animal existence,
  Wakefulness. Sleep, and Vision or Dream.
  In the  wakeful state the  senses  are open,
  the brain excited, the will predominant,  and
  all the  functions going on, in as regular a
  train as the  constitution, health, and habit
  of the individual permit.  During sleep the
  will is suspended, consciousness has no pre-
  valence, the organs of sense cease to act, and
  there is a discontinuance of voluntary power,
  and of all exertion depending thereon.  The
  memory,  imagination and judgment  are all
  prostrated and gone.  These two conditions
  of the mind and body have employed from a
  very remote time, the attention of many per-
  sons who believed themselves capable of an^ 
57
aii/.ing  the human, mind.   Great progress
has been made in these inquiries concerning
the wakeful  and  sleeping states; but  that
condition of the corporeal and mental pow-
ers, denominated  dream or dreaming,  has
not been equally elucidated ; perhaps anoth-
er and a preferable term  might  be chosen to
signify this intermediate and peculiar modifi-
cation of the organs of sense, and of the
common sensorium in  the brain.  I  shall
however retain it as being generally under-
stood ; but known best under the latin name of
Sqxivittu.
   Cicero has sanctioned the term in his ele-
gant little composition, called The Somnium
of L.  Scipio the Military Tribune.  "By Som-
nium  then may be  understood the perform-
ance of certain bodily and mental actions
which are usually  voluntary, without the di-
rection or government of the will,  or without
any recollection afterwards that such volition
existed."   Of the forms of Somnium, some
may be deemed  Symptomatic, and others
again Idiopathic.
  The attention  of the learned and the wise
is particularly invited to  this distribution of
ihat function of man. which being neither 
;^8
 ■sleeping nor wakiiig,  has been but too oftei.
 confounded with  both.  How  happy would
 it have  been  if  Dr. Locke  had  surveyed
 :he facts  in this  way, and bestowed upon
 them the scrutinizing power of his intellect.
 The same might have been wished of Dar-
 win, who touched the subject with singular
 ability, a little before his death.  The ex-
 cellent and unwearied  Priestly, soon af-
 ter lie  came to America, wrote me a letter
 on dreaming.  I wish I had understood the
 matter as I now  do,  when  I penned the
 answer.   It wouldJUave gratified  me highly,
 if I could have talked over the whole of the
 Somnial phenomena with Rush my late very
 eloquent and ingenious friend.   I  could have
 wished that the functions of the middle state,
 as I have arranged them, might  have  been
 considered, by the Wolfs, the Leibnitzes,
 and the Kants;  by the Des  Cartes, the
 Condillacs, and the Malebranches ; and
 by the Reids,  the Beatties, and the Fer-
 gusons.   I indeed entertain something of an
 expectation that  Professor Stewart, the
 Abbe Sicard,  Bishop Watson, and Mr.
Haslam,  may deem them  not unworthy of
 their enlightened consideration, 
29
         I. SYMTOMATIC SOMNIUM. *
  1.  Somnium from indigestion, (a dyspep*
«ia) when from too much food, or too feeble
a condition of the stomach, there is a fermen-
tation with acidity,  eructations and  pain or
uneasiness, followed by troublesome dreams.
  2.   Somnium  from  the  Nightmare, (ab
lncubo) supposed to arise from some  imped-
iment to the  free  circulation of the blood
through the  Heart and Lungs : always un-
pleasant and sometimes frightful.  The mem-
ory here is active, but the will is suspended,
and the effort to  exert it fails.  Persons are
supposed to  have died in fits of Incubus.
    3.   Somnium from  effusions  of water
into the chest, (ab  Hydrothoracc) believed
to  proceed  from  anxiety  about  the  vital
parts, caused by lymph stagnating in  the pe-
ricardium or thorax. Terrifying dreams rous-
ing the patient  suddenly with  a start, are
the common consequences  of this  disorder.
The  former and this are the Oneirodynia of
the Nosoiogists.
  • This part of the subject was delivered in the introductory
discour.'C to the lectures on Zoology, &c. the 4th April, 1315,
at the college in Barclay-street; as an illustration of that kind
of analy i«, which ought to direct all enquiries into the natur-
al HjsroBv of the human mind.
C2 
30
   4.  Somnium from a feverish state of the
 body, (a febre) caused probably by an undue
 and irregular excitement of the Brain during
 the paroxysm. This is known by the name of
 high delirium or sometimes furor.
   5. Somnium from debility, (cum debilitate)
 where there is not excitement enough to em-
 body ideas in steady trains : but where de-
 sultory  traces of memory and imagination are
 presented in  a confused anq^ irregular man-
 ner.  This is the low or muttering delirium.
   G. Somnium with fainting, (cum asphyxia)
 where,  though there is an exhaustion of vi-
 tal power,  and the individual appears to be
 dead, there is life  enough in the body to pre-
 vent putrefaction.   The  animal functions in
 this case do not seem to be quite so much de-
 pressed as the vital; for  on the  recovery of
Sense and health,  the individual relates the
things he witnessed during the  trance in
 which he lay,  while in the very  lowest  ebb
 ef life.  See note A.
   7.  Somnium from fresh and vivid occur-
 rences,  (a recentibus) as when dreams  can
 be referred to, or traced from some conversa-
 tion or occurrence  of the  day or evening, or 
31
 to some actual condition of the body; the ease
 of COMMON DRI.AMING.
   8.  Somnium from old and forgotten oc-
 currences, (ab obsoletis) when long lost ima-
 ges  are renewed to the memory, and dead
 friends are brought before us.
   9.  Somnium from an over loaded brain,
 (a plethora) with symptoms bordering on epi-
 lepsy,  apoplexy,  and catalepsy.   This is
 sometimes called typhomania.
   10.  Somnium of a prospective character,
 (a prophetia) when the  dreamer  is engaged
 in seeing funeral processions, and foretelling
 lugubrious events by assort of second sight,
 as it is  called :  this disease is symptomatic,
 of a peculiar state of body, running in fami-
 lies  like gout,  consumption, and insanity.
   11.   Somnium from vivid impressions on
 the internal organ of sight, (a visione) where
 visual images  are so strong,  that the dream-
 ers  are called seers, because they see so
 much, and their sights are termed  visions,
 in as much as the eyes are so peculiarly con-
 cerned.
   12. Somnium from the conditions of other
corporeal organs, (a sexu vel pruritu) causing
dreams. 
3g
   13.  Somnium (a respiratione)/rom inhal-
 ing into  the  lungs,  nitrous oxyd gas, de-
 priving the person of consciousness and will,
 and inspiring delightful thoughts and sensa-
 tions.
   14.   Somnium (a toxico) from  doses of
 opium, hyosciamus, datura,  and other  nar-
 cotic plants, taken into the stomach on cer-
 tain occasions, disturbing the will and exci.
 ting strange fancies.
   15.   Somnium from drunkenness, (ab e-
 brietate) caused  by fermented and  distilled
 spirits acting upon the stomach, and thereby
 overcoming consciousness  and spontaniety,
 and causing wild thoughts and frantic conduct.
          II. IDIOPATHIC SOMNIUM.
   1.   Somnium from abstraction,  (ab  ab-
 straction) where the internal  senses are so
 engaged that there is* no  knowledge, or but
 an imperfect one,  of the  passing external e-
 vents,  coustituting.what  is termed reverie ;
 where fanciful traces of thought are indulged
 at considerable length.
   2.   Somnium  mith partial  or  universal
lunacy, (cum  insanitate) vitiating the mind
with some fundamental error on a particular
subject, or disturbing  and confounding all 
,3
 ihc liberations of the rational mind-   This
 characterises some forms of melancholy and
 XADNESS.
   3.  Somnium with talking, (cum Sermone)
 where the ideas of the mind are uttered in
 audible words, as in a wakeful state:  called
 frequently Somniloquism, or sleep talking,
 on ordinary subjects.
   1.   Somnium with walking, (cum  ambu-
 lation)  where the  person rises  from bed,
 walks about, frequently  goes  abroad, and
 performs  various feats of activity and adven-
 ture,  without the smallest recollection thai
 any volition had been exerted on  the occasi-
 on, or even that any such actions had been
 performed: the whole affair is forgotten, and
 not a trace left  in memory; this is  called
 Somnambulism.   See note B.
   5.  Somnium with invention, (cum inven-
tione) as when unbidden ideas rise in  the
mind  in a methodical series; and form a
poetical  Sonnet,  or  musical Sonata, differ-
ent from any thing known  before,  and unat-
tainable by the .waking powers.   These are
sometimes reduced to writing at the time, and
found  afterwards, though the act of commit
«ng them to paper is generally forgotten.  On 
34
oilier occasions, the memory preserves the
particulars of these edifying dreams.
 6. Somnium, (cum hallucinatione) with mis-
taken impressions of sight, and sometimes
s>f hearing, so impressive as to enforce a con-
viction of their reality : many visions, con-
versations,  and  mistaken representations,
gain currency in this way; the patients being
in the first  instance, unwittingly deceived
themselves,  propagate with an  honest zeal
their delusions, and labour to gain the as-
sent  of their friends  and acquaintances to
their notions.  See note C.
   7.   Somnium with Singing, (cum musiea)
wherein the person, though unable to raise  a
stave when awake, becomes capable in the
Somnial condition of uttering sounds in most
melodious accents.  This case is reported to
me by several persons of respectability to be
a  fact, in regard to a young lady now of Ma-
ryland,  of the same name of the Newr-York
damsel, Rachel Baker.   She too has no re-
collection of her nightly performances.
   8.  Somnium  with  ability to  pray  and
preach,  (cum religione) or to address the Su-
preme  Being, and human auditors,  in an
 instructive  and  eloquent manner; withoat 
35
any recollection of having  been so employed,
and with utter incompetency to perform such
exercises of devotion and instruction when
awake.
  To the latter of those remarkable affections
of the human mind, belongs the case of Miss
Rachel Baker, a young woman who, for
several years has been seized with Somnium
of a devotional kind, and of a very extraor-
dinary  character, once a  day, with great re-
gularity.   These quotidian paroxysms recur
with wonderful  exactness,  and from  long
 prevalence are now become habitual.   They
 invade her at early bed time, and a fit  lasts
 usually about three  quarters of an hour.  A
 paroxysm  has been known to end in thirty-
 five minutes, and to continue ninety-eight.
 it invades her with a sort of uneasiness of the
 spasmodic  kind, anxiety  in respiration and
 hysteric  choaking.   There  is however, no
 chill or  even coldness.   Nothing like the
 torpor of an ague.   There is no febrile ex-
 citement,  nor any sweating stage at the close.
 The transition from the waking state to that
 of Somnium is very quick, frequently in a
 quarter of an hour or  even less.  After she
 retires from company in the parlour,  she is 
tit)
  :Y>^covered to  be occupied in praising Cjiod
  with a distinct and sonorous voice.  During
  the paroxysm  her pulse varies but little from
  the common beat.   The heat of her  skin is
  scarcely, if at all,  changed; the  pliancy is
  not sensibly altered by a want of redundancy
 of perspirable  fluid.   The surface is soft and
 delicate as  it ought to be; on some of those
 occasions there  is a sensible acceleration of
 the motions of the heart and arteries.   The
 countenance,   after a  protracted  exercise,
 particularly if interrupted with questions and
 answers, indicates uneasiness and fatigue.
 Her  discourses  are usually pronounced in a
 private chamber, for the purpose of deliver-
 ing them with more decorum on her own part,
 and with greater satisfaction to  her hearers.
 She has been advised to take the recumbent
 posture; her face being turned towards the
 heavens, she performs her nightly  devotions
 with a consistency and fervour wholly novel
 and unexampled atthis place, for a human be-
 ing in a state of Somnium. Her body and limbs
 are quiet  and motionless ; they stir no more
than the trunk and extremities of a statue;
the only motion the spectator perceives is that
of her organs of speech, and an oratorial in« 
                    37
cliuatioii of the head and neck, as if she wa«
intently engaged in performing an academic,
forensic, or theological exercise.  With her
eyelids closed, and with total inaction of her
feet  and hands, she,  with  her visage and
voice makes  strong  impressions  upon  her
hearers, and commonly awes them to silence,
and  to  a reverent attitude and deportment.
According to the tenor and solemnity of the
address, are the attendants affected with se-
riousness.  This, not unfrcqucntly, is carried
to a  sense of  contrition, and to the effusion
of tears.   Toward the termination of the ex-
ercise there is, often a diminution both of the
frequency and force of the arterial pulsation;
ihe muscles of the eyes on disclosing the lids,
have been observed to  be in tremulous agita-
tion, and the balls themselves to be inclined
upwards,  in the intervals, as is usual in the
posture of supplication.   She commences
and  ends with an address to the throne of
grace; consisting of the proper topics of ac-
knowledgment,  submission  aud reverence j
of praise and thanksgiving, and of prayer for
herself, her friends, the church, the nation,,
nid for enemies, and the human race at large.
Between these is her sermon^  er exhortation,
                    D 
38
She begins without a text, and proceeds in
an  even course to  the end;  embellishing i.
sometimes  with fine  metaphors,  vivid des-
criptions, and poetical quotations.   At the
termination of the paroxysm, her fingers have
been  observed  to be firmly closed for a few
seconds; and the muscles of the back, arms,
and lower limbs to be rigid with a  spasm that
quickly subsided.   The throat  is generaJly
affected with something like inflation, strang-
ling or choaking.  There is a  state of the bo-
dy  like groaning, sobbing or moaning ; and
the distressful sound continues for  a duration,
varying from two minutes to a quarter of an
hour.  This agitation nevertheless,  does not
wrake her; it gradually  subsides,  and she
passes into a sound  and natural sleep, which
continues during the remainder of the night.
In  the  morning, or at the usual time, she
wakes as if nothing had happened ;  and is
entirely ignorant of the memorable scenes in
which she  had  acted. She  declares that she
knows nought of the nightly exercises,  ex-
cept from the information of others; notwith-
standing the vigour of her recollection, and
brightness of her fancy during  the  perioral'-
ance, even to the astonishment of  the bye 
39
slanders;  all the  vivid images are as com-
pletely effaced as if they never had an exist-
ence.   If she possessed any consciousness of
the transaction at the  time, not a vestige of
it remains.   There are no more traces in her
memory of the occurrences in which she has
been so profoundly engaged, than if they had
never occupied the smallest part of her atten-
tion.   She complains not of pain,  lassitude,
nor of any disorder.   With the exception of
the before mentioned  agitation of body, and
exercise of mind, she enjoys perfect health;
and as she has no consciousness of these oc-
currences, she does not rate them as matters
of any moment whatever.   She knows noth-
ing concerning them but from the information
of others ; the disorder she experiences  be-
longs  wholly to  the   internal senses, and to
the corporeal organs  immediately  connected
with them. Exercises, so regular in their peri-
od , so methodical in their arrangement,so pious
in their sentiments, and so pure in their com-
position, are by some persons considered as
far above the reach  of a. mind withdrawn
from outward objects, and engaged in its own
conceptions.  They thereupon suppose, that
the whole performance is a trick, and the 
£0
performer an impostor of the first rank. Tin
teply to this sort of observers is simply this ;
such are the rare and peculiar circumstances
of her case,  that more  faith is required to
suppose it a consummate and  practical piece
of deceit, than to consider it the result of de-
votional Somnium.  It may at the same time
be added, that the story of imposture is total-
ly contradicted by the correctness and pro-
priety of her conduct.   She is,  and ever has
been, as virtuous and free from reproach, as
any young woman in society.
  It may  also be remarked that,  her lan-
guage and sentiments during the fit of  Som-
nium, are eminently pure and chaste;  noth-
ing but words of the most scrupulous and re-
fined delicacy ever passed her lips.
  It may further be said, that her mind  du-
ring these periods, is chiefly engaged in the
doctrinal  parts of Calvinistie  Christianity,
and that she shows herself not merely ortho-
dox, but able and  copious in their elucida-
tion.  Her discourses  excel  in every thing
that relates to experimental evidence,  and to
the operation of divine grace upon the human
soul.  To minds of a less sceptical cast, and
unaccustomed to  medical  observations,  the 
41
symptoms exhibited have seemed to defy hu-
man explanation, and to lie  far beyond the
limits of the understanding.  To relieve them-
selves from the difficulty of interpreting the
appearances, and of tracing  them to some
natural cause, they refer them directly to su-
pernatural agency; and in ascribing the effu-
sions of her internal senses to the immediate
inspection of Deity, they piously think they
philosophise enough. But the rational exami-
ner will not draw so bold a conclusion, until
he is satisfied that the phenomena are inex-
plicable upon the laws which  govern the ani-
mal economy. Nevertheless,  on this point,
persons who reason and feel,  must determine
for themselves ; let every man be fully per-
suaded in his own mind.
   A trait in her case peculiarly worthy  of
notice, is the  difference  between her senti-
ments on certainsubjects in a state of Som-
nium. from those she entertains when awake.
For example:  she maintains resolutely, that
SHE IS NOT ASEEEl' DURING HER PAROXYSMS,
although it is evident to every bye-stander
that she is not awake.  She contended, while
in New-York, that she was not from home,
but at her ordinary residence in  the  town of
                   D2 
43
Scipio.   So likewise she prays aud preaches?
when the fit presses her, though her convic-
tion  in  her seasons of wakefulness  is, that
individuals of her sex, are prohibited by apos-
tolic mandate, from acting as public teachers.
   These variations from the fact,  in relation
to her bodily condition, to her local situation,
and  to her ministerial functions, are memor-
able features of the affection under which she
labours.  While subjected  to this peculiar
action,  she says that she knows  not whether
she is in the body or out of the body; yet de-
clares she feels high enjoyment,  and  bene-
volently wishes  that  others  could have the
exquisite sensations which she experiences.
Nevertheless,  during her waking  hours, she
laments her malady as a sore affliction; and
considers it as a visitation upon her to punish
her  sins, or to try her constancy aud virtue.
   Her Somnium is of a  peculiar character in
{his  respect; that on being  called by name
Rachel,  she immediately suspends her dis-
 course, aud  asks, what  do  yon want  my
friend ? If thereupon,  a query be put to her,
 she  promptly answers it.  These replies are
 neither brief nor evasive,  but comprehensive
 and direct, until  she has exhausted t]»e sub- 
*3
ject.  On these occasions she  manifests a
profound  and minute acquaintance with the
holy scriptures, especially in matters of doc-
trine.  She refers to the books of the old and
new testament with  perfect ease, and seems
familiar with their meaning.   After she  has
answered a question, she returns to her former
discourse, unless she  is interrupted by ano-
ther.  In this  way  she gives responses to
half a dozen interrogations in  succession, up-
on the gravest matters in a manner, that few,
if any, of the waking beholders can equal,
Though she listens for the voice of the person
who addresses  her,  she  does not  wake, but
her Somnium continues.
   Her exercises have  occasionally been in-
terrupted.  Their recurrence was  prevented
by  an attack of the measles : during the first
year of her nightly visitations.   While she
v> as under the morbillous action, her parox-
ysms of Somnium did  not return;  but  when
that disorder abated, the devotional tendency
of her mind once more  gained the  ascendan-
cy.   They have likewise been  temporarily
cured by the occurrence of a  sick head-ache,
which has tormented her about three times a
year.  When she suffers a violent attack of 
44
this malady, it has been found that the incli-
nation to pray  and  exhort  was  not felt.
When however the disease abated, the con-
stitution obeyed its habitual trains of action.
  It is further worthy of remark, that on two
or three occasions, the paroxysms have oc-
curred twice in twenty-four hours,  showing
their disposition to assume the type of a dou-
ble  quotidian.
  Previous to  her appearance in the  city of
New-York, she had  been considered as a
person labouring under some disease.   The
physicians who had been consulted, tried the
operation of phlebotomy and thebaic tinoture
without success. Neither the letting of blood,
nor  the  exhibition of laudanum,  produced
any alleviation of the symptoms.  Remedies
were not pushed farther.  In October, 1814,
she was brought  to New-York.   It was
hoped that the  incidents of  travelling by
land  in  a  carriage, for a journey of three
hundred miles, would interrupt the catenati-
on  of her thoughts  and  actions.  It  was
supposed that  the novolties of a crowded and
bustling city,  might break the established as-
sociations ;  it was  even conjectured that the
vicinity of the ocean,  with its humid and sa- 
43
 line atmosphere, might produce an alteration
 for  the better: none  of them however an-
 swered the purpose.   Whether she was in a
 tavern along the road,  at the mansion of hos-
 pitality in the metropolis, or under the influ-
 ence of the Atlantic atmosphere, her parox-
 ysms returned at their stated times,  without
 interruption.   Medical counsel was sought
 among  the experienced and learned members
 of the faculty.
   The  gentlemen found a  new case to en-
 gage their consideration. Their patient com-
 plained of no disorder  whatever; she had no
 bodily  infirmity,  and was  entirely uncon-
 scious of any mental indisposition.  The per-
 sons around her said she prayed aloud after
 she went  to bed,  and gave excellent  advice
 to all who heard her; they affirmed this was
 done in the solitude of a country  dwelling,
 as punctually as in the centre of a populous
 city;  and that it  made no difference  in the
 exercise,  whether she was alone in her room,
 or whether her chamber was filled with com-
 pany.   The  general opinion  was, that the
discourses were  correct  and instructive in
their principle and tendency,  persuasive and
overpowering in their  manner, and so gra- 
40
cious, sweet and delightful, that few of the
waking brethren,  could interest an audience
so deeply.  She has representations of the
kind that are,  in the strict sense of the word,
called vision.   The following may serve  as
an example:  I suggested to her one evening,
at Mr. Wellington's, the propriety of re-
maining quiet  during her sleep,  like other
persons, instead of talking so earnestly, and
at such length. The observation did not break
her  Somnium.  In her reply,  she  firmly
denied that she was  asleep; she gave  rea-
sons for her opinion; she  affirmed that the
heavens were in full display before her ; she
beheld the dwelling of the omnipotent, aud
the celestial host in attendance;  she describ-
ed the resplendent and unspotted  whiteness
of their robes, and the taste and skill manifes,
ted  in  their fabric; and  she pourtrayed  the
whole  scene in  such eloquent  strains, and
with such vivid  descriptions, that a painter
could have drawn  a picture from it.
   Her eyes  are not the only sense that  ex-
periences this internal excitement;  the organ
of  hearing  is sometimes,  though less fre-
quently,  affected  after a similar  manner.
She has told of words spoken to her, by a 
47
voice that was  not mortal, and  administer
ing to her consolation  in her agonizing dis-
tress.
  What could be  done under such circum-
stances? it was rather odd to prescribe regi-
men, remedies, and  austerities to a patient
who knew of no  disease ; and even if there
had been a  disease, their difficulty  would
scarcely have been  diminished. For the in-
firmity was not only innocent  to the patient,
but eminently instructive to all who witness*
ed i<s effects.  It was alledged by some, that
it was not a  disease, but an influx from  a-
bovc.  Others said, that if it must be called a
disease, it was such an one as no physician
should presume to cure;  on the contrary, it
ought to be reverenced and respected, as the
means of dispensing the devotional truths of
Christianity,  and  of inculcating  them  in a
new way  to mankind.   As well  might at-
tempts be made to cure the sun of his bright-
ness, or the vegetable tribes of their verdure 5
do so, and  you extinguish the light of  day,
and beauty of creation.
   She went back to Cayuga, without having
been advised by the consultation  to  seek a
cure.  It might wear away by time, or might
continue without sensible inconvenience. 
48
   la the month of February,  1815,  her fa-
 ther brought her to  town for the purpose of
 education.  A few  benevolent ladies took
 such an interest in her welfare, that they of-
 fered to patronize her, and  provide for her,
 if she  would come  and place  herself under
 their direction.   Their generous offer  was
 accepted, and she now enjoys the benefits of
 one-of the most excellent Boarding Schools
 in the city.
   The  faculty'having examined her case crit-
 ically,  she  is no  longer subject to the visits
 of the curious, but is  permitted to enjoy in
 retirement,  the society of her pious friends,
 After she shall have made* the requisite pro-
 ficiency, in the necessary  and  ornamental
 branches  of knowledge, it is contemplated
 once more to renew the medical consideration
 of her case; and then will arise the delicate
 discussion?  whether the damsel labours un-
 der a disease? whether if so,  it is too hallow-
 ed for professional aid? by what means these
 seraphic visions  shall be  dissipated? and
 their organ reduced to the ordinary level of
womankind.
  Objections have been made to the force
and validity  of the present case, on the ground 
4»
of the patient's being a female, a person whose
sex precluded the freedom of enquiry neces-
sary to a complete elucidation of the occur-
rences.   Some  cunning, or some conceal-
ment, it is whispered, may lurk under femi-
nine disguise, which it is not easy or practi-
cable to detect.
  To obviate this difficulty,  the case of a
wan, is  offered to them,  very analogous to
Miss Baker,  in its leading traits, and  even
surpassing it  in certain curious particulars.
  Job Cooper became affected with  Somni-
um, accompanied with praying and  preach-
ing, about the year  1774, in the  state of
Pennsylvania;  he attracted a large portion of
public attention in the place of his residence,
and in the city  of Philadelphia,  long before
Miss Rachel Baker was born.   The  history
of this memorable case was accurately writ-
ten  by that able  and intelligent gentleman,
Andrew Ellicot, Esq.  from actual knowl-
edge, and long observation.   It is inserted
in the present publication  to show  that the
young woman is  not the  only one that has
appeared in America.
E 
m
Letter from  Andrew  Ellicott, Esq.  to
  Dr. Mitchill, dated West-Point, Jan. y,
  1815; containing an  account of a  mau^
  zvho preached and prayed in his sleep.
Dear Sir,
    Your favour of the 29th  ult, with  the
surprising case  of Rachel  Baker, were re-
ceived two or three days ago.   The case of
Job  Cooper, with whom  I was well  ac-
quainted,  was equally so. Job Cooper, was
a weaver by trade,  and lived with a  weaver
by the name  of Beans, about three hundred
yards from my  father's house, in the county
of Bucks, in  the state of Pennsylvania, when
he became a sleeping preacher.
  The  facts respecting this  extraordinary
case, and with  which I was  perfectly ac-
quainted, being frequently a witness for ma-
ny months, are nearly as follows : Mr Coop-
er was  an ordinary young man, about twen-
ty-one  years of age,  when he first  began
preaching in his sleep; his habits were  not
bad,  neither were his piety or virtues above
the usual standard, his constitution was good,
and he generally excelled   in athletic exer-
cises.   He  began preaching in the winter;
*he weather, I recollect, was very cold.  On. 
51
one  of those cold evenings, Mr. Cooper
went to sleep on his back upon a bench before
the fire, after Mr. Beans  and his  wife  had
gone to bed ; and on that bench he preached
his first sermon ;  which was distinctly  heard
by his employer and wife, who supposed he
was mimicking  some  public  friend whose
meetings he attended ; though he belonged
to no particular religious society.
   The next day his employer, Mr. Beans,
spoke  to him, about the impropriety of such
couduct,  but Mr.  Cooper declared himself
innocent of the charge,  and totally ignorant
of any thing unusual happening to him in his
sleep.   In the evening, Mr.  Cooper and the
family retired to  rest at their  usual time, but
before  midnight, Mr. Cooper began his se-
cond sermon, upon which Mr. Beans  and
his wife got up,  lit a candle, went into his
room, and stood by liis bed till he had finish-
ed his discourse; after which he immediate-
ly awoke,  and inquired of them,  why  they
were disturbing him by bringing a  candle in-
to his room at that time of night.  He was in-
formed  he had  been preaching  again; at
which he appeared much surprised, not be-
ing conscious of experiencing any inconve. 
5g
nienee from dreams or other causes during
his sleep ; the next day, Mr. Beans called on
Mr. Benjamin  Kinsey, a respectable gentle-
man of the  neighbourhood, and my Father,
and communicated the circumstance to them,
requesting them at the  same time, to go to his
house before midnight, when he  would let
them in  to witness the fact; and examine as
far as they were able such an uncommon and
eurious case ; to which they consented. They
went at  the appointed time, accompanied by
myself, then about seventeen or eighteen years
of age, and one other person. We had not wait-
ed long before Mr. Cooperbegan his third d\s-
course, when we were conducted into his yoom.
He began with a prayer, followed  by an ex-
portation, and concluded with a short prayer ;
this was the first time that he either commen-
ced or ended with a prayer.  A short  time
after concluding the second prayer, he awoke
and conversed  with the company, and ap-
peared somewhat mortified, as he expressed
it, at becoming an object of curiosity,  from a
circumstance neither within  his own knowl-
edge or control,  His  prayers and exhorta-
tions  were  always preceded by a shivering
or trembling,  accompanied  with  groaning. 
53
and  spasms,  generally slight, though  not
always so ;  his respiration not entirely free,
being frequently suspended  or interrupted,
similar to that of a person suddenly alarmed
or frightened ; but all those symptoms disap-
peared the instant he began to articulate, like
a person being relieved from the Incubus^ or
Nightmare, on being  moved or  spoken to.
After concluding his prayer and exhortations,
he generally had a slight return of the symp-
toms  already mentioned, after  which he a-
woke.  From the commencement of the  pa-
roxsym till after  the conclusion  of his dis-
course,  he appeared insensible of what was
passing in his room, and neither replied to
any questions put to him,  or  suffered an in-
terruption in his  exhortations  from the con-
versation  of the  spectators  about his bed.
His articulation was remarkably distinct, and
his discourses delivered with a fluency far su-
perior to any thing he  could perform  when
awake.   The singularity of his case, excited
the curiosity of great numbers of people  to
come  from  considerable distances, particu-
larly  from the city of Philadelphia, to  be
witnesses of so extraordinary a fact.   This
"uriosity abated  in  less than a year, when
                   Ej2 
54
he was left to sleep quietly and preach with-
out interruption.  Some few years afterwards,
he went to reside in Virginia, where I under-
stood,  twelve or fifteen  years subsequently,
that he continued at times to be troubled with
the same  complaint.  A number of medical
gentlemen occasionally attended his discour-
ses,  who all agreed, that it was  the effect of
some disease with  which they were  totally
ignorant, and that the regular paroxysms  of
the  disorder  were abated or carried  off  by
the exercise of  speaking ; to this it was ob-
jected, that if speaking  alone was sufficient
to carry off the paroxysms, why  were his ex-
ercises, without a single exception, confined
to the subject of religion ?  a subject which  no
one  ever knew to have arrested his attention
beyond the common received principles  of
morality.   My own impressions have always
been,  that it was the effect of disease ; a dis-
ease however, which had  no visible effect
upon his  health, constitution, habits, or his
mind  when  awake.   These Sir,  are  the
principal facts relative  to this extraordinary
case, and to which I was a witness at vari-
ous,  times for several months., and shall now 
55
conclude this with a quotation from the Dic-
tionnaire Philosophique.
  " Quelque  syste meque vous  embrassicz
quelques vains efforts que vous fassiez pour
vous prouver  que la memoire remue votre
cerveau & que  votre cerveau remue votre
ame.; if faut que  vous conveniez que  toutes
vos idees vous viennent dans le sommeil saus
vous, et malgte  vous; votre volonte n'y a
aucune part.   II  est  done certain que vous
pouvez penser sept ou huit heures de suite,
sans avoir la  moindre en vie de  penser  et
sans me me etre surque vous pensez,  Pesez
cela et lachez de diviner ce que c'est  que le
compose de Panimal," *
  Please to excuse this hasty scrawl in reply
to your  favour, and  believe  me to be with
great esteem and regard,
       your friend and humble servant,
               ANDREW ELLICOT.
              translation.
  * Whaiever system you embrace, what-
ever vain efforts you make to prove that the
memory moves your brain, and that the brain
acts upon your soyl, you  must undoubtedly 
56
concur  in  this,  that  all your ideas during
sleep, arise independently of you, notwith-
standing all the efforts you may and can make
to the contrary; y our will has not the smal-
lest share in them.  It follows clearly from
this, that you may sleep  during  seven  or
eight  hours, without experiencing  the least
inclination  to think, and even without the
smallest particle of  knowledge  that  you
possess the faculty of thinking.  Ponder up-
on this,  antl endeavour to divine  what ma-
terials enter into the composition of an ani-
mal.
                 NOTE A.
  The case cf the Rev. Dr. Tennentis inser-
ted as one of the strongest illustrations of this
condition of the faculties.  The subject of it
was  pious,  learned, and intelligent.  His
biography  was  printed  in the  Assembly's
Evangelical Intelligencer, March and April
1806, by the appointed editor,   William P.
Ferrand.  Vol.  2.  No. 3 and 4.   The fol-
lowing extract will suffice:
  After a regular course of study in theology,
Mr. Tennent was preparing for his examin- 
57
 ation by the presbytery as a candidate for the
 gospel ministry.  His intense application af-
 fected  his  health, and brought on a pain in
 his breast and a slight hectic.   He soon be-
 came emaciated, and at length was like a liv-
 ing skeleton.   His life was now threatened.
 He was  attended  by a physician, a young
 gentleman who was  attached to him  by the
 (strictest and  warmest friendship.   He grew
 worse and  worse,  till little hope of life was.
 left.  In this  situation his spirits failed him,
 and he began to entertain doubts of his final
 happiuess.  He was conversing,  one morn-
 ing,  with his brother, in Latin, on the state
 of his soul, when he fainted and died away.
 After the usual time, he  was laid  out on a
 board, according to the common practice of
 the country, and the neighbourhood were in-
 vited to  attend  his funeral on the  next day.
 In the evening,  his- physician and friend re-
 turned from a  ride into the country, and was
 afflicted  beyond  measure at the news of his
 death.  He could not be persuaded  that it
 was certain ;  and on  being  told that  one of
the persons  who had  assisted in laying out
the body thought he had observed a little tre~
mor of the flesh under the arm,  although" the 
58   l
body was cold and stiff, he  endeavoured to
ascertain the fact.  He first put his own hand
into warm water to make it as sensible as pos-
sible, and  then felt under  the arm,  and at
the heart, and affirmed that, he felt an usual
warmth,  though no one else could.  He had
the body restored to a warm bed, and insist-
ed that the people, who had been invited to
the  funeral, should be requested not to at-
tend. To this the brother objected as absurd,
the eyes being  sunk, the lips discoloured,
and the whole body cold and stiff.  Howev-
er,  the doctor finally prevailed ; and all pro-
bable means were used, to discover symp-
toms of returning life.   But the third day ar-
rived, and no hopes were entertained of suc-
cess but by the  doctor,  who never left him
night nor day.  The people were again invi-
ted,  and assembled to  attend  the funeral.
The doctor still objected,- and at last confin-
ed his request  for delay to  one hour, then
to half an hour, and finally to a  quarter
of an  hour.   He  had discovered  that the
tongue was much  swoln, and threatened to
crack.   He was endeavouring to soften it,
by some  emollient ointment put upon it with
a feather, when the brother came  in. ahou< 
59
the expiration of the last period,  and mista-
king what the doctor was doing, for an at-
tempt to feed him, manifested some resent
ment, and  in a spirited tone, said,  "It is
shameful to  be  feeding a lifeless corpse ;"
and  insisted, with earnestness, that the fu-
neral should  immediately proceed.   At this
critical and important  moment, the body, to
the great alarm  and astonishment of all pre-
sent, opened its eyes,  gave a dreadful groan,
and  sunk again  into apparent  death.   This
put an end to all  thoughts  of burying him,
and every effort was again employed in hopes
of bringing about a speedy resuscitaiion.  In
 about  an  hour, the  eyes  again  opened, a
 heavy  groan proceeded from the body, and
 again all appearance of animation vanished.
 In another hour life seemed  to return  with
 more  power, and  a complete revival  took
 place,  to the great joy  of the  family and
 friends, and to the no small astonishment and
 conviction of very many who had been ridicu-
 ling the idea of restoring to life a dead body.
   Mr. Tennent continued  in so weak and
 low a state  for six weeks,  that great doubts
 were entertained of his final recovery. How-
 ever,  after that period, he  recovered much 
00
 faster,  but it was about twelve months befort
 he was completely restored.   After he wa6
 able to  walk the room, and to take notice of
 what passed around him, on a Sunday after-
 noon, his sister, who had staid from church
 to  attend him, was reading  in  the  Bible,
 when he took notice  of it, and  asked her
 what she had in her hand.  She answered
 that she was reading the Bible..   He repli-
 ed, " What is the bible ? I know not  what
 you mean.''   This affected the sister so much
 that she burst into tears, and informed him,
 that he  was once  well  acquainted  with it.
 On her  reporting this to the brother when he
 returned, Mr. Tennent was found, upon ex-
 amination, to  be totally ignorant of every
 transaction of his  life  previous to his sick-
 ness.   He could not  read  a  single  word,
 neither  did he seem to have any idea of what
 it meant.  As soon as he became capable of
 attention, he was taught to read and write, as
 children are usually taught, and  afterwards
 began to learn the Latin  language under the
tuition of his brother.   One day as he was re-
citing a  lesson in Cornelius  Nepos, he sud- ,
denly started,  clapped his hand to his head,
as if something bad hurt him, and made a 
61
pause.   His brother  asking him what was
the  matter,  he said, that he felt a  sudden
shock in his  head,  and it now seemed to him
as if he had  read that book before.   By de-
grees his recollection  was restored,  and he
could speak the Latin as fluently as before
his sickness  His memory so completely re-
vived, that he  gained a perfect knowledge of
the  past transactions of his life,  as if no diffi-
culty had previously occurred.  This event,
at the time,  made a considerable noise, and
afforded, not only matter of serious contem-
plation to the  devout christian, especially
when connected with what  follows  in this
narration,  but furnished a subject of deep in-
vestigation and learned inquiry to the real
philosopher and curious anatomist.
  The writer of these memoirs  was greatly
interested by these uncommon events; and, on
a favourable  occasion, earnestly pressed Mr.
Teunent for  a minute  account  of what his
views and apprehensions were, while he lay
in this extraordinary state of suspended ani-
mation.  He discovered great reluctance to
enter into any explanation of his perceptions
and feelings at this time ; but, being importu-
nately urged to  do it, he at length consented. 
62
 and  proceeded with a solemnity  not  to be
 described.
   "While I was conversing with my broth-
 er,"  said he, " on the state of my  soul, and
 the fears I had entertained for my future wel-
 fare, I found myself, in an instant,  in anoth-
 er state of existence, under the direction of
 a superior being,  who ordered me  to follow
 him.   I was accordingly wafted  along,  I
 know not how, till I beheld at a distance an
 ineffable glory, the  impression of which on
 my mind it is impossible to communicate to
 mortal man. I immediately reflected on my
 happy  change, and thought;  well, blessed
 be God ! I am safe at last, notwithstanding
 all my fears.  I saw an innumerable host of
 happy beings, surrounding the inexpressible
 glory, in acts of adoration and joyous  wor-
 ship ; but I did not see any bodily  shape or
representation in the glorious appearance.   I
 heard things unutterable. I heard their songs
 and hallelujahs, of thanksgiving and praise,
with unspeakable rapture.  I  felt joy unut-
terable  and full of glory.   I then applied to
my conductor, and requested  leave to  join
the happy throng.   On which  he tapped me
on the  shoulder, and  said, i You  must re 
63
turn to the earth.' This seemed like a sword
through my heart.  In an instant I recollect
to have seen my brother standing before me,
disputing with  the doctor.   The  three days
during which I had appeared lifeless, seem-
ed to me not more than  ten or twenty min-
utes.  The idea of returning to this world of
Borrow and trouble, gave me  such a shock,
that I  fainted  repeatedly."   He  added,
" Such was the effect on my mind of what I
had  seen and heard, that if it be possible for
a human  being to live  entirely  above the
world and the things of it,  for some time af-
terwards, I was that person.  The ravishing
sounds of the songs and hallelujahs that I
heard, and the very words that were uttered,
were not  out of my ears,  when  awake, for
at least three years.  All the kingdoms  of
the earth were in  my sight as nothing  and
vanity ; and so great were my ideas of heav-
enly glory, that nothing which  did not,  in
some measure,  relate  to  it, could command
my serious attention."
   It is not surprising,  that after so affecting
an account, strong solicitude should have
been felt for further  information  as to the
words, or at least the subjects  of praise and
» 
&4
adoration, which  Mr. Tennent had  heard.

But when he was requested to communicate

these,  he  gave a decided negative,  adding,

" You will know them, with many other par-

ticulars hereafter,  as you will find the whole

among my papers ;" alluding to his intention

of leaving the writer  hereof his executor,

whieh precluded any further solicitation.*


  * It was so ordered, in the course of divine Providence, that
the writer was sorely disappointed in his expectation of obtain-
ing the papers here alluded to.  Such, however, was the will of
heaven I  Mr. Tennent's death happened during the revolution-
ary war, when the enemy separated the writer from him, so as
to render it impracticable to attend him on a dying  bed ; and
before it was possible to get to his house, after his death, the
writer being with the American army at the Valley-Forge, his
son came from Charleston, and took his mother, and his father's
papers and property, and returned to Carolina.  About fifty
miles from Charleston, the  son was suddenly taken sick and di-
ed among entire strangers ;  and never since,  though the writer
was also left executor to the son, could any trace of the father's
papers be d|seoveredl>y him. 
65
                NOTE b.
The following case is inserted, for the purpose
  of illustrating  this common  state  of the
  corporeal and mental powers, by the- very
  uncommon turn they took.

history of cyrillo padovano, the noted
              sleep-walker.
              By Dr. Goldsmith.

  It has often been a question in the Schools,
whether it be preferable to be a king by day,
and a  beggar in our  dreams by night; or,
inverting the question, a beggar by day, and
a monarch while sleeping ? It has been  usu-
ally decided, that the sleeping monarch was
the happiest man,  since  he is supposed to
enjoy  all  his happiness without contamina-
tion ;  while the monarch, in reality, feels
the various inconveniences that  attend his
station.
   However this may be, there are none  sure
more miserable than those who enjoy neither
situation witlrany degree of comfort, but feel
all the inconveniences of want and  poverty
by day, while they find a repetition of their
misery in a dream.  Of this kind was the fa-
                   F3 
66
 mous Cyrillo Padovano, of whom a long life
 has been written; a man,  if 1 may so ex-
 press it, of a double character, who acted a
 very different part by night, from  what he
 professed in the day.  Cyrillo was  a native
 of Padua in Italy, a little brown complexion-
 ed man, and, while awake, remarkable for
 his simplicity, probity, piety,  and candour;
 but unfortunately for him, his dreams were
 of the strongest  kind, and  seemed to over-
 turn the whole system of waking  morality;
 for he every night walked in his  sleep, and
 upon such  occasions was a thief, a robber,
 and a plunderer of the dead.
   The first remarkable exploit we are told of
 Cyrillo, was at the university, where he shew-
 ed no great marks  of assiduity.  Upon a
 certain  occasion  his master set him a very
 long  and difficult  exercise, which  Cyrillo    J
 found it impossible,  as he supposed, to exe-
 cute.   Depressed with this opinion, and in
 certain expectation of being chastised the next
 day,  he went to bed  quite dejected  and un-
easy : but  awaking  in the  morning, to  his
great surprise, he found his exercise com-
pletely  and  perfectly  finished, lying upon
his table,  and,   still  more extraordinary! 
67
written  in his own hand.   This information
he communicated to his master when he gave
up  his task,  whp being equally  astonished
with him, resolved to try him the next day,
with a longer and more difficult task, and to
watch him at night when  he retired to rest.
Accordingly, Cyrillo was  seen going to bed
with  great uneasiness, and soon was heard
to sleep profoundly; but this did not conti-
nue long; for in about an  hour  after he lay
down, he got up,  alighted his candle,  and
sat down to study,  where  he  completed his
task as  before.
   A mind like Cyrillo's,  not naturally very
strong,  and never  at rest, began, when he
arrived at manhood,  to become gloomy,  so-
licitous  and desponding.   In consequence of
this turn of thinking,  he resolved to leave the
world,  and  turn Carthusian, which is the
most  rigorous  of  all the  religious  orders.
Formed for a severe and abstemious  life, he
was here seen to set lessons of piety to the
whole Convent, and to shew that he  deserv-
ed  the  approbation as well of his fellows in
seclusion, as of the whole  order.  But  this
good fame did not last long;  for it was soon
found that Cyrillo walked by night, and, as 
68
we are told of the fabled Penelope, undid in
his sleep all the good actions for which he had
been celebrated by day.  T.he first pranks
he  played were of a light nature,  very little
more  than running about  from chamber to
chamber,  and  talking a little more loosely
than became one of his professed piety.   As
it is against the rules of the fraternity to con-
fine any man by force to his cell, he was per-
mitted, in this manner,  to walk about;  and
though there was nothing very edifying in his
sleeping conversation, yet the Convent were
content to overlook and pity his infirmities.
  Being carefully observed upon one of these
occasions, the following circumstances offer-
ed.  One evenings having fallen  asleep on
his chair in his cell, he continued  immovea-
ble for  about  an  hour; but then,  turning
about in the attitude of a listener, he laughed
heartily at what he thought he heard spoken;
then  snapping  his fingers, to shew he did
not value the speaker, he turned towards the
next person, and made a sign  with his fin-
gers as if he wanted snuff;  no* being suppli-
ed, he  seemed  a little disconcerted;  and
pulled out his own box, in which there being
nothing,  he  scraped the inside as if to  find 
69
some ;  he next very carefully put up his box
a°-ain ; and looking  round him with great
suspicion, buttoned up the place of his frock
where he kept it.  In this manner he contin-
ued for some time immoveable ; but without
any seeming cause,  flew into  a most  outra-
gous passion, in which he spared neither
oaths nor execrations ; which  so astonished
and  scandalized his brother Friars,  that they
left iiim to execrate alone.
  But  it had been well  if poor Cyrillo wenfc
no farther,  nor driven his sleeping  extrava-
gancies into guilt.   One night he  was per-
ceived going very busily up to the altar, and
in a little beaufet beneath, to rummage with
some degree of assiduity.   It is supposed
that  he wished to steal the plate which  was
usually deposited there, but which had acci-
dentally  been sent off the day before to be
cleaned.  Disappointed in this,  he seemed
to be extremely  enraged; but not caring  to
return  to his cell empty  handed, he  claps
on one of the official silk vestments;  and find-
ing  that lie could carry still more, he put
on one or  two more over each other; and
thus  cumbrously accoutred, he stole off with
a look  of terror to his cell; there hiding his 
                   70
ill-got finery beneath  his  mattress, he laid
himself down  to continue his nap.   Those
who had watched him during  this interval,
were willing to  see his manner of behaving
the morning after.
  When Cyrillo awaked,  he seemed at first
a good deal surprised at the lump in the mid-
die of his bed ;  aud  going to examine  the
cause,  was still more astonished at the quan-
tity of vestments that were bundled there : he
went among his  fellows of the Convent,  in-
quired  how they came  to be placed there,
and learning the  manner from them,  nothing
could exceed his patience and contrition.
  His last and greatest project was consider-
ed of a still more heinous  nature.   A  lady,
who had long  been a  benefactor to the Con-
vent, happening  to  die, was desirous of be-
ing buried in the cloyster, in a vault which
she had made for that purpose.  It was there
that she was laid, adorned with much finery,
and a part of  her own jewels, of which she
had great abundance.   The solemnity atten-
ding her funeral was magnificent,  the expen-
ses great, and the sermon affecting.   In all
this pomp of grief none seemed more affected
than Cyrillo; or set an  example  of sincerer 
71
mortification.  The society  considered  the
deposition of their benefactress  among them
as a very great honour, and masses in abun-
dance were promised  for  her safety.  But
what was the amazement of the  whole Con-
vent the next day, when  they found  the
vault in  which she was deposited broke open,
the body  mangled, her  fingers, on which
were some rings,  cut off, and all her finery
carried away.   Every person in the Convent
was shocked at such barbarity,  and Cyrillo
was one of the foremost in  condemning the
sacrilege.   However,  shortly after, on  go-
to his cell, having occasion to examine under
the mattress, he there found that he alone
was the guiltless plunderer.  The  Convent
was soon  made acquainted with his misfor-
tune : and at the general request of the fra-
ternity,  he was removed to another monastry,
where  the Prior had a power,  by  right, of
confining his conventuals.  Thus, debarred
from doing mischief, Cyrillo led the remain-
der of his life in piety and peace. 
7JB
                 note c.
 Oase of Hallucination, both in  hearing and
                  seeing.
   A. B.  a gentleman of my acquaintance,
 respectable both for his character and under-
 standing had a sick child in his  family; dur-
 ing the illness, his professional  business cal-
 led him from the city of New York, to West-
 chester county:  after  he had arranged his
 affairs at the court term, he hastened his re-
 return ; on his way home,  he stopped at the
 house of a friend to refresh  himself and his
 horse; after supper, he was conducted to a
 bed chamber, in  which no person slept  but
 himself.   It was  in the month of September,
 and at the full of the moon ; the night unusu-
 ally clear.  He was not thinking of his child
 at the  time, but  of a very  different  subject.
 He fell  into a slumber which lasted  some
 time.   The  window  shutters   were  open
 and the  room very light.   While  he was
 awake, thinking on some very important sub-
ject, a person appeared  to him, and in a
 loud  and  distinct voice, pronounced  these
 words, your child  is dead / he saw a man
 walk across the room, and could distinguish
 the coat of a dark  grey, with black trimmings 
h*
 and button-holes, there  was no  opening of
 doors or windows ; but the apparition having
 caused himself to be heard and seen, unac-
 countably withdrew from observation.  The
 gentleman rose from  bed in  great anxiety.
 and noted the  time ;  half past two o'clock,
 lie then dressed himself, and walked  the
 chamber until  morning,  he  Was perfectly
 convinced, as he now is, that he was  not de-
 ceived ; but  actually heard the words, and
 saw the man as distincty, as he could  do un-
 der existing circumstances.  His  mind was
 so  agitated with the intelligence communica-
 ted to him by the unknown messenger, that
 he  started early, and  with his friend,  who
 rode with him in a chair,  pursued his jour-
 ney from the White Plains to town,  having
 first communicated the circumstance  to his
 Friend, in the house where he staid, minutely.
 At  arriving at his own door, he immediately
 learned from his wife, that the child had ex-
 pired at  the very hour and minute that the
 event was announced to him, at the distance
 of more than twenty-six miles.  The gentle-
 man who accompanied him, went in the house
and saw the child a corpse.   A.  B. is per-
fectly satisfied  of the  reality  of this  occur-
                    a 
7*
rence,  and perhaps is the  only one  of all
those who are acquainted with the allusions
of the human senses, that will not admit it to
be a phantom of the night, or a hallucination
of his eyes and ears in that instance.
   The suspension of  the  will  in  sleep, i«
confirmed by the authority of Professor Stew-
art, in his Treatise on the Human Mind. Phi-
losophizing on this subject,  that acute inquir-
er however, confounds, as  has been usual,
dreaming with sleep ; and his reasoning thus
extended  and applied, goes to the point I
have endeavoured to establish, that the sus-
pension of volition characterizes the Somnial
state, or "that condition of the faculties which
I have denominated Somnium.   As this is a
discriminating circumstance of much impor-
tance in the  present inquiry,  it  has  been
thought proper to insert the chapter of Mr.
Stewart entire, in which he applies his doc-
trine of the association of ideas to explain the
phenomena of dreaming.  The weight of his
opinion, w ill be acknowledged by those who
have penetrated the deepest  into these investi- 
7j
gations.  My view  of the phenomena, maj
be  considered as  an answer to his second
query ; and I wish it may be taken up in con-
nection  with it,  or  as a sequel to it.   If it
has any bearing upon his third question, the
reader will not fail to find it out.

Application of the doctrine of the association
   of Ideas to  explain  the  phenomena  of
   Dreaming.  \_From Stewart's Elements of
   the Philosophy of the Human Mind.   Sec-
   tion v.]
   With respect to the phenomena of dream-
ing, three  different questions may be propos-
ed.   First; what is the state of the mind in
sleep? or,  in  other  words,  what  faculties
then continue  to operate, and what faculties
are then suspended ?  Secondly ; how far do
our dreams appear to be influenced by our bo-
dily sensations;  and  in  what respects do
they  vary, according to  the  different condi-
tions of the body in health, and in  sickness ?
thirdly; what  is  the change  which  sleep
produce  on those  parts  of  the body, with
which our mental operations are more  imme-
diatelv connected : and how does this change
operate, in diversifying,  so remarkably,  the 
76
 phenomena which our mind, then exhibit,
 ixom those of which we are conscious  in our
 waking hours ?  Of these three questions, the
 first belongs to the Philosophy of the Human
 Mind,  and it is to this question that the fol-
 lowing inquiry is almost  entirely confined.
 The second is more particularly interesting
 to the medical inquirer, and does not proper-
 ly  fall under the plan of this work.   The
 third seems  to  me to  relate to a  subject,
 which is placed beyond the reach of the hu-
 man faculties.
  It will be granted^  that, if we could ascer-
 tain the state  of the mind in sleep,  so  as  to
 be able to resolve the various phenomena of
 dreaming into a smaller number of more gen-
 eral principles ; and still more, if we could
 resolve them into one general fact; we should
 be advanced a very important  step in our in-
 quiries  upon this subject; even although we
 should find  it impossible to shew,  in what
 manner this change in the state of the mind
 results from the change which sleep produ-
 ces in the state  of the body.   Such a step
 would at least gratify, to a certain extent,
that disposition of our nature which prompts
us to ascend from particular facts to genera*! 
                    77
laws • and which is the foundation of all our
philosophical  researches:  and, in the  pre-
sent instance,  I am inclined to think, that it
carries us as far as our imperfect faculties en-
able us to proceed.
   In conducting this inquiry with respect to
the state of the mind in sleep, it seems  rea-
sonable to expect, that some light may be ob-
 tained, from  an examination  of the  circum-
 stances  which accelerate  or  retard  its ap-
proach ; for,  when we are  disposed to  rest,
it is natural to imagine,  that the state of the
 mind approaches to its state in sleep, more
 nearly, than  when we feel  ourselves  alive
 and active, and capable of applying all va-
 rious faculties to their proper  purposes.
    In o,eneral, it may be remarked,  that the
 approach of sleep is accelerated by every cir-
 cumstance which diminishes or suspends the
 exercise of the mental powers  ; and is retard-
 ed by every thing which has  a contrary ten-
 dency.   When we wish for sleep we natur-
 ally endeavour to withhold, as much as pos-
 sible, all the active exertions  of the mind, by
 disengaging  our attention from every interes-
 ting subject  of thought.   When we  are dis-
                    92 
                   78
posed to keep awake, we naturally fix  our
attention on some subject which is calculated
to afford  employment to our intellectual pow-
ers,  or to rouse and exercise the  active prin-
ciples of our nature.
  It is well known that there is  a particular
class of sounds  which compose  us to sleep.
The hum of bees ; the murmur of a fountain ;
the  reading of an uninteresting discourse;
have this tendency in a remarkable degree.
If we examine this class of sounds, we shall
find that it consists wholly of such as are fit-
ted to withdraw the  attention of the mind
from its own thoughts ;  and are,  at the same
time, not  sufficiently interesting, to engage
its attention to themselves.
   It is also a matter of common observation,
 that children and persons of little reflection,
 who are chiefly occupied about sensible ob-
 jects, and whose  mental activity is,  in a
 great measure, suspended, as soon as their
 perceptive powers are unemployed; find it
 extremely difficult to continue awake, when
 they are deprived of their usual  engagements.
 The same thing has been remarked of sava-
  ges, whose time like that  of the lower ani? 
79
 mals, is almost completely divided between
 sleep and their bodily exertions.*
   From a  consideration  of  these  facts, it
 seems reasonable  to conclude, that  in sleep
 those operations  of the mind are suspended,
 which depend on  our volition ; for  if it be
 certain,  that  before we fall asleep we must
 withhold,  as  much as wre are able, the exer-
 cise of all our different powers ; it is scarce-
 ly to be  imagined, that, as soon as  sleep
 commences, these powers  should again  be-
 gin to be exerted.  The more probable con-
 clusion is, that when we are desirous to pro-
 cure  sleep, we bring both mind and  body,
 as nearly as we can, into that state in which
 they are to continue after sleep commences.
 The difference, therefore,  between the state
 of the mind when we are inviting sleep, and
 when we are  actually asleep,  is this; that
 in the former case,  although its active  exer-
 tions  be  suspended,  we  can renew them, if
 we please.   In the other  case, the will  loses

  * " The existence of the Negro slaves in America, appears
 to participate more  of sensation than reflection.  To this must
be ascribed, their disposition to sleep when abstracted from
their diversions, and unemployed in their labour. An  anima!
whose body is at rest, and who does not reflect must be dispos-
ed to sleep of course."
           Notes on Virginia, by Mr. Jeffehso*:,  p.253* 
                    80
its influence over all our powers both of mind
and body ; in consequence of some physical
alteration in the system, which we shall nev-
er, probably,  be able to explain.
  In order to illustrate this conclusion a lit-
tle farther, it may be proper to remark, that,
if the suspension of our voluntary operations
in sleep be admitted as a fact, there are only
two suppositions which can be formed  con-
cerning its cause.  The one is, that the pow-
er of  volition is suspended;  the  other that
the  will  loses its influence over those facul-
ties of the mind, and those  members of the
body, which, during our waking hours, are
subjected to  its authority.  If it can be shewn,
then, that the former supposition is not agree-
able  to fact,  the truth of the  latter seems to
follow as a necessary consequence.
  1.   That  the  power of volition is not sus-
pended during sleep, appears from the efforts
which we are conscious of making while in
that situation. We dream, for example, that
we are in danger ; and we attempt to call out
for assistance.   The attempt  indeed,  is,  in
general, unsuccessful; and the sounds which
we emit,  are feeble and indistinct: but this
only confirms, or rather is, a necessary con- 
81
 sequence of the supposition, that, in sleep,
 the connexion between  the will and our vol-
 untary operations, is disturbed,  or interrupt-
 ed.   The  continuance  of the power of voli-
 tion is demonstrated by the  effort, however
 ineffectual.
   In like manner, in the course of an alarm-
 ing dream, we are sometimes conscious  of
 making an exertion  to save ourselves, by
 flight, from an apprehended  danger; but in
 spite of all our efforts,  we  continue in  bed.
 In such cases, we  commonly  dream,  that
 we are attempting to escape, and  are  pre-
 vented by some external obstacle: but the»
 fact seems to be, that  the body is, at  that
 time, not subject to the will.  In the distur-
 bed rest which we sometimes have when the
 body is indisposed, the mind appears to re-
 tain some  power over it;  but as, even in
 these cases, the  motions  which are  made,
 consist rather of a general  agitation of the
 whole system, than of the regular exertion of
 a  particular  member of it, with  a  view to
 produce a  certain effect;  it is reasonable to
 conclude, that  in perfectly sound sleep, the
mind,  although it retains-the power of volr~ 
$2
tion, retains no influence whatever  over the
bodily organs.
  2. The same conclusion is confirmed by a
different view of the subject.  It is probable, 4*
as was already observed,  that when we are
anxious to procure sleep, the state into which
we naturally bring the mind, approaches to
its state after sleep commences.  Now it is
manifest, that the means  whicli  nature di-
rects us to employ on such occasions, is not
to suspend the power of volition but to sus-
pend the exertion of those powers whose ex-
ercise depends on volition.  If it were neces-
sary that volition should be suspended before
we fall  asleep, it  would be impossible for us,
by our own efforts, to hasten the moment of
rest.  The very  supposition of such efforts
is absurd; for it implies a continued will to
suspend the acts of the will.
   According to the foregoing doctrine, with
respect  to the state of the  mind in sleep, the
effect which is produced on our mental oper-
ations,  is strikingly analogous to that  which
is proceeded on our  bodily  powers.   From
the observations which  have been already
made, it is manifest,  that in sleep,  the body
is,  in a  very inconsiderable degree, if  at all,, 
88
 subject to our command.  The vital and in-
 voluntary motions,  however, suffer no inter-
 ruption, but go on as when we are awake,
 in consequence of the operation of some caus-
 es unknown to us.  In like manner, it would
 appear,  that those operations  of the  mind
 which depend on our volition are suspended ;
 while certain other operations are, at least
 occasionally, carried on.  This analogy nat-
 urally suggests the idea, that all  our mental
 operations, which are independent of our will,
 may  continue during  sleep ; and  that the
 phenomena  of dreaming  may, perhaps, be
 produced by these, diversified in their appa-
 rent effects, in consequence of the suspension
 of our voluntary powers.
   If the appearances which the mind exhib-
 its  during sleep, are found to he explicable
 on this general principle, it will posses  all
 the evidence which the nature of the subject
 admits of.
   It was formerly  shewn, that the train of
 thought in the mind does not depend immedi-
 ately on our will, but is regulated by certain
 general  laws of association.  At  the  same
 time,  it  appeared,  that among the various
subjects  which thus spontaneously present 
81
iliemselvcs  to our notice, we have the pow
er of singling out any one that we chuse  to
consider, and of making it a particular object
of attention; and that,  by doing so,  we not
only can stop the train that would otherwise
have  succeeded, but frequently can divert
the current  of our thoughts into a new chan-
nel,   It also appeared,  that we have a pow-
er, winch may  be much improved  by exer-
cise, of recalling past  occurrences  to  the
memory, by a voluntary effort of the recollec-
tion.
  The indirect influence which the mind thus
possesses over the train of its  thoughts is so
great, that  during  the  whole time we  are
awake,  excepting in those cases in which wc
fall into what is called  a reverie, and suffer
our thoughts to follow their natural course, the
order of their succession is always regulated
more or less by the will.  The will, indeed,
in regulating the train of thought, can oper-
ate only, as I already  shewed,  by availing
itself of the established laws of association ;
but still it  has the power of rendering this
train very different from Avhat it would have
been, if these  laws had taken place without
its interference. 
83
  From these principles, combined with the
general fact which I have endeavoured to es-
tablish with respect to  the state of the mind
in sleep, two obvious consequences follow :
First, that when we  are in this  situation,
the succession of our thoughts, in so far as it
depends on the laws of association, may be
carried on by the operation of the  same  un-
known causes by which it is produced while
we are awake; and, secondly, that the or-
der of our thoughts, in these two states of the
mind, must be very  different; inasmuch as,
in the one, it depends  solely on  the laws of
association ; and in the other, on these laws
<-oinbiucd with our own voluntary exertions.
   In order to ascertain how far these conclu-
sions are agreeable to truth, it is neeessary to
compare them with the known  phenomena
dreaming.  For which purpose  I  shall en-
deavour to shew, first, that the succession of
our  thoughts in sleep, is regulated by  the
same general laws of association, to which it
is subjected while we  are awake;  and, se-
condly, that  the  circumstances  which  dis-
criminate dreaming from our waking thoughts,
are such as must necessarily  arise  from the
suspension of the influeuce of the  will.
                    H 
                   86
  1. That the succession of our thoughts in
sleep, is regulated by the same general laws
of association,  which influence  the  mind
While we are awake, appears from the fol-
lowing  consideration.
  1. Our dreams are frequently suggested to
us by bodily sensations:  and with these, it
is well known, from what we  experience
while awake, that particular  ideas are fre-
quently very  strongly associated.  I  have
been told by a friend, that, having occasion,
in consequence of an indisposition, to apply
a bottle of hot water to his feet when he went
\o bed, he dreamed that he  was  making a
journey to the top of mount iEtna, and that
he found the heat of the ground almost insup-
portable.  Another person, having a blister
applied to his  head, dreamed that he  was
scalped by a party of Indians.  I believe ev-
ery one who  is  in  the  habit of dreaming,
will recollect instances, in his own case, of
a similar nature.
  2. Our dreams are influenced by the  pre-
vailing  temper  of the mind; and vary in
their  complexion according as our habitual
disposition,  at the time, inclines us to cheer-
fulness  or to melancholy.  Not that this ob- 
                    67
-ervation  holds  without  exception ; but  it
holds m> generally, as must convince us that
the state of our spirits has some effect on our
dreams,  as well as on  our waking thoughts.
Indeed,  in the latter case, no less than in the
former, this  effect may be counteracted, or
modified, by various other circumstances.
   After having made a narrow escape  from
anv alarming danger, we are apt to awake,
in the course of our sleep, with sudden start-
ing ; imagining that we are drowning,  or on
the brink of a precipice.   A severe misfor-
tune, which has affected the mind deeply, in-
fluences our  dreams in a  similar way; and
suggests to us a variety of adventures,  anal*
ogous, in some measure,  to  that event  from
which our distress arises.  Such, according
to Virgil, were the dreams  of the forsaken
Dido. "
      "---------Apt ipsesurentew,
   " In sonmis fcrus iEneas; semperque  relinqui,
   ■ Sola sibi;  semper Iongam inconiitata videtur,
   * Ire viam, et Tyrios deserta quairere terra."

   3. Our dreams are influenced by our pre-
vailing habits of association while awake.
   In a former part of this work,  I consider- 
88
ed the extent of that power which the mind
may acquire over the  train  of its thoughts ;
and I observed, that those intellectual diver-
sities among men, which we commonly refer
to peculiarities of genius, are, at least in a
great  measure,  resolveable  into  differences
in their habits of association.  One man pos-
sesses a rich and beautiful fancy, which is at
all times obedient to his will.  Another pos-
sesses a quickness of recollection, which ena-
bles  him, at a moment's warning, to bring
together all the results of his past experience,
and of his past reflections, which can  be of
use for illustrating any proposed subject.   A
third, can,  without  effort, collect his atten-
tion to  the most abstract questions in philoso-
phy ;  can perceive at  a  glance, the shortest
and most effectual process for arriving at the
truth;  and can  banish from his mind every
extraneous idea, which fancy c casual asso-
ciation may suggest, to distract his thoughts,
or to mislead his judgment.   A fourth unites
all these powers in a  capacity of perceiving
truth with  an almost intuitive rapidity; and
in an eloquence which enables him to com-
mand, at pleasure, whatever his memory and
his  fancy  can supply, to illustrate  and  to 
89
adorn it.   The occasional  exercise  which
such men  make  of their powers,  may un-
doubtedly  be  said, in one sense, to be un-
premeditated or unstudied ; but they all  in-
dicate previous habits of meditation or study,
as unquestionably,  as  the  dexterity of the
expert accountant, or the rapid exposition of
the professional musician.
   From what has been  said, it is  evident,
that a  train of thought which in one man,
would require a painful effort of study, may,
in another, be  almost spontaneous : nor is it
to be doubted,  that the reveries  of studious
men, even when  they allow, as much as they
can, their thoughts to follow their own course,
are more or less connected together by those
principles of association, which their favourite
pursuits tend more particularly to  strengthen.
   The  influence of the same habits may be
traced distinctly in sleep.   There are proba-
bly few mathematicians, who have not dream-
ed of an interesting problem,  and who have
not  even fancied that they were prosecuting
the  investigation of it with much success.
They whose ambition leads them to the stu-
dy of eloquence, are frequently  conscious,
during sleep,  of a renewal of their daily oc-
                   U2 
iJO
cupations; and sometimes  feel  themselves
possessed of a fluency of speech,  which they
never experienced before.   The Poet, in his
dreams,  is  transported into  Elysium,  and
leaves the  vulgar and unsatisfactory enjoy-
ments of humanity,  to dwell in those regions
of enchantment and rapture, which have been
created by the  divine imaginations of Virgil
and of Tasso.
    " And hither Morpheus sent his kindest dreams,
  " Raising a world of gayer tinct and grace ;
  " O'er -which -were shadowy cast Elysian gleams,
  *' That play'd in waving lights, from place to place,
  " And shed a roseate smile on Nature's face.
  " Not Titian's pencil e'er could so array,
  " So fleece with clouds the pure etherial space ;
  -" Nor could it e'er such melting forms display,
  ** As loose on flowery beds all languishingly lay.
  " No, fair illusions ! artful phantoms, no !
  •• My muse will not attempt your faiiy land :
  " She has no colours,  that like your's can glow ;
  *• To catch your vivid scenes, too gross her hand."*

  As a farther proof that the succession of our
{noughts in dreaming, is influenced by our pre-
vailing habits of association: it may be remark-
ed, that the scenes and occurrences which most
frequently present themselves to the  mind
              * Castte of Indolence. 
91
while we are asleep, are the scenes and occur-
rences of childhood and early youth. The facil-
ity of association is then much greater than in
more advanced years; and although during
the day, the memory of the events thus asso-
ciated,  may be banished  by the objects and
pursuits which press upon our senses,  it re-
tains a more  permanent hold of the mind
than any of our subsequent acquisitions ; and
like the knowledge which we  possess of our
mother tongue, is,  as it were, interwoven and
incorporated with  all its most essential ha-
bits. Accordingly, in old men, whose thoughts
are, in  a great measure, disengaged from the
world,  the transactions of their middle age,
which  once seemed so important, are often
obliterated ; while the mind dwells, as in a
dream,  on  the sports and the companions of
their infancy.
   I shall only observe farther, on this head,
that in our  dreams, as well as when awake,
we occasionally make use of words as an in-
strument of thought.  Such dreams, howev-
er, do not affect the mind with such emotions
of pleasure and  of pain, as those in which
the imagination is occupied with particular
objects  of sense.   The effect  of philosophi- 
93
cal studies,  in  habituating the mind to  the
almost constant employment of this  instru-
ment, and of consequence, its effect in weak-
ening the imagination, was formerly remark-
ed.  If I am not mistaken, the influence of
these circumstances may also be traced in
the history of our dreams ; which,  in youth,
commonly involve, in a much greater degree,
the exercise of imagination; and affect  the
mind with much more powerful emotions,
than when we begin to employ our maturer
faculties in more general and abstract specu-
lations.
   From these different observations, we are
authorised to conclude, that the same laws
of association which regulate the train of our
thoughts while we are  awake,  continue to
operate during sleep.  I now proceed to con-
sider, how far the circumstances which dis-
criminate dreaming from our waking thoughts,
correspond with those which might be expec-
ted to result from the suspension of the influ-
ence of the will.
   1. If the influence of the will be suspended
during sleep, all our  voluntary operations,
such as recoUeetion, reasoning,  &c.  must
also be suspended. 
93
   That this really is the case,  the extrava-
gance aud  inconsistency of our dreads are
sufficient proofs.  We  frequently confound
together times  and places  the  most remote
from  each other; and,  in the course of the
same dream, conceive  the same  person as
existing in  different  parts  of the world.
Sometimes  we imagine  ourselves conversing
with a dead friend, without remembering the
circumstance of his  death, although,  per-
haps, it happened but a few days before and
affected us deeply.  All this proves clearly,
that the subjects which then  occupy our
thoughts,  are such as present themselves to
the mind spontaneously ; and  that we have
no power of employing our reason, in com-
paring together the different  parts of our
dreams : or even of exerting an act of recol-
lection,  in  order to ascertain how far they
are consistent and possible.
   The  processes of reasoning, in which we
sometimes fancy ourselves to be engaged dur-
ing sleep, furnish no exception to the fore-
going observation ; for  although every such
process,  the time we form it, implies voli-
tion ;  and,  in particular, implies a recollec-
tion of the premises, till we arrive at the  corr- 
94
elusion;  yet when a number of truths have
been  often presented to us,  as necessarily
connected with each other, this series  may
afterwards pass through the mind  according
to the laws of association, without any more
activity on our part, than in  those  trains of
thought which arc the  most loose and inco-
herent.   Nor is this  mere theory.   I  may
venture to appeal to the consciousness of ev-
ery man accustomed to dream, whether his
reasonings during sleep do not seem to be
carried on without any  exertion of his will;
and with a degree of facility,  of which he
was never conscious while awake.   Mr.  Ad-
dison, in one of his Spectators, has made this
observation ;  and his testimony, in the  pre-
sent  instance, is of the greater  weight,  that
he had no particular theory on the  subject to
support.   •'• There is not,'?  says he, <•' a more
painful action of  the  mind  than invention,
yet in dreams,  it works with that ease  and
activity,  that  we are not sensible  when the
faculty is employed.   For instance, I be-
lieve every one, some time or other,  dreams
that he is reading papers, books, or letters ;
in which case the invention prompts so readi-
ly; that the mind is imposed on, and mistakes 
95
its own suggestions for the composition of an
other;'*
  3. If the influence of the will during sleep
be suspended, the mind will remain as pas-
sive, while its thoughts change from one sub-
ject to another,  as it does during our waking
hours, while different perceptible objects are
presented to our senses.
   Of this  passive  state of the mind  in our
dreams, it is necessary,  to multiply proofs ;
as it has always  been  considered  as one of
the most extraordinary circumstances with
which they are accompanied.  If our dreams,
as well as our waking thoughts, w ere sub-
ject to the will,  is it not natural to conclude,
that in the one case, as well as in the other,
we would endeavour  to banish, as much as
we could, every  idea which had a tendency
to disturb us;  and  detain those only  which
we found to be agreeable ?  So far,  however,
is this power over  our thoughts from being
exercised, that we  are frequently  oppressed
in spite of all our efforts to the  contrary, with
dreams which affect us with the most painful
emotions.  And, indeed, it is a  matter  of
vulgar remark,  that our dreams are, in eve-
                  * .\c 407, 
96
ry case,  involuntary on  our part; and thai
they appear to be obtruded on  us  by some
external  cause.   This fact appeared so un-
accountable to the late  Mr. Baxter, that it
gave  rise to his very whimsical theory,  in
which he ascribes dreams  to the immediate
influence of seperate spirits on the mind.
  3. If the influence of the will be suspended
during sleep, the conceptions which we then
form  of  sensible objeets, will  be attended
with a belief of their real existence, as much
as the perception of the same objects is while
we are awrake.
  In treating of the powrer of conception, I
formerly observed, that our belief of the sep-
erate and independent existence  of the ob-
jects of our  perceptions, is the  result of ex-
perience  ; which  teaches us that these per-
ceptions  do not depend on our will.   If I
open my  eyes, X cannot prevent myself from
seeing the prospect before me.  The case is
different  with  respect  to  our  conceptions.
While they occupy the  mind,  to the exclu.
sion of every  thing else, I endeavoured  to
shew, that they are always accompanied with
belief; but as we can banish them from the
mind, during our waking hours, at pleasure; 
97
and as the momentary belief which they pro
duce, is continually checked by the surround-
ing objects  of our perceptions, we learn to
consider them as fictions of our own creation ;
and, excepting in some accidental  cases, pay
no regard to them in the conduct of life.   If
the doctrine, however,  formerly stated with
respect to conception be just,  and if, at the
 same time it be allowed, that sleep suspends
the influence of the will over the train of our
thoughts,  we should naturally  be led to  ex-
pect,  that the same belief which accompanies
perception while we are awake,  should ac-
company  the conceptions which occur to us
in our dreams.  It is scarcely  necessary for
me to remark, how strikingly this  conclusion
coincides  with acknowledged facts.
   May it not be considered  as some  confir-
mation of the foregoing  doctrine, that when
opium fails in producing  complete sleep,  it
commonly produces one of the effects of sleep,
by suspending the activity of the mind, and
throwing  it into.a reverie ; and  that while we
arc in this state,  our conceptions  frequently
affect us nearly in the same manner, as if the ob-
jects conceived were present to our senses ?-
  * See the Bmon De I'ott's Account oUlie Opinni-taxeTS at
i"on;tantitiop!e,
                    I 
98
   Another circumstance with respect to  our
conceptions during sleep, deserves our  no-
tice.  As the subjects which we then think
upon, occupy the mind exclusively;  and as
the attention is not diverted by  the objects of
our external senses, our conceptions must be
proportionably lively and steady.   Every
person  knows how faint the  conception is
which we form of any thing, with our eyes
open, in comparison  of  what  we can form
with our eyes shut; and that,  in proportion
as we can  suspend  the  exercise of all our
other senses, the liveliness of our conception
increases.   To this cause is to be ascribed,
in part,, the effect which the dread of spirits
in the dark, has on some persons, who  are
fully convinced in speculation,  that their ap-
prehensions are groundless ; and to this also
is owing the effect of an accidental percep-
tion, in giving them a momentary relief from
their terrors.  Hence the remedy which  na-
ture points out to us, when we find ourselves
overpowered by imagination.   If every thing
around us be silent, we endeavour to create
a  noise, by speaking aloud, or beating with
our feet; that is, we strive to divert the atten-
tion from the subjects of our imagination, by 
99
 presenting an object to our powers of percep-
 tion.  The conclusion which I draw from
 these  observations is, that,  as there is no
 state of the body in  which  our  perceptive
 powers arc so totally unemployed as in sleep,
 it is natural to think, that the objects which
 we conceive or imagine, must then make an
 impression on the mind,  beyond comparison
* greater,  than any  thing of which  ^ye  can
 have experience while awake.
   The phenomena which we  have hitherto
 explained, take place when sleep seems to
 be complete ; that is,  when the mind loses
 its influence over all those powers whose ex-
' ercise depends on its will.  There are, how-
 ever, many cases in which sleep seems to be
 partial; that is,  when  the mind loses its in-
 fluence over some powers, and retains it over
others.  In the case of the somnambuli, it
retains its power over the limbs, but it pos-
 sesses no  influence over  its own thoughts,
and  scarcely any over the body;  excepting
those particular members  of it which are  em-
ployed in walking.  In madness, the power
of the will over the body remains undiminish-
ed, while its influence in regulating the train
of thought is in  a great measure suspended j 
100
either in consequence  of  a particular idea,
which engrosses the attention, to the exclu-
sion of every thing else, and  which we find
it impossible to banish by our efforts ;  or in
consequence of our thoughts succeeding each
other  with such rapidity, that we are una-
ble to stop the train.  In both  of these
kinds of madness, it  is  worthy of remark,
that the conceptions  or imaginations  of the
mind becoming independent of our will,  they
are apt to be mistaken for actual perceptions,
and to affect us in the same manner.
  By means of this supposition of a  partial
sleep, any apparent  exceptions which the
history of dreams may afford to the general'
principles already stated, admit of an easy
explanation.
  Upon reviewing the foregoing observations,
it does not occur to  me, that I have in any
instance transgressed those rules of philoso-
phizing, which, since the time of Newton,
are commonly  appealed  to, as  the tests of
sound investigation.   For, in the first place,
I have not supposed any causes which are not
known  to exist;  and,  secondly, I  have
shewn that the phenomena under our consid-
eration  are necessary consequences of the 
101
causes to which I have referred them.  I
have not supposed, that the mind  acquires
in sleep, any new faculty of which we are
not conscious while awake ; but only,  what
we know to be a fact, that it retains some of
its powers,  while  the  exercise of  others is
suspended : and I have deduced synthetical-
ly, the known phenomena of dreaming, from
the operation of a particular class of our fa-
culties, uncorrected by the  operation  of an-
other.  I flatter myself, therefore, that this
inquiry will not only throw some light on the
state of the  mind  in sleep ;  but that it  will
have a tendency to illustrate the mutual adap-
tion and subserviency,  which exists among
the different parts  of our constitution, when
we are in complete possession of all the fa-
culties and principles  which  belong to our
nature.

   The foregoing  observations  on the state
of the mind in sleep, and on the phenomena
of dreaming were written as far back  as the
year  1772; and were read,  nearly in the
form  in which  they are now published,  in
the year 1773? in a private literary society
fa this university.   A  considerable number
                    1% 
IDS
of years afterwards, at a time  when  I was
occupied with very different pursuits, I hap-
pened, in turning over an old volume of the
Scots Magazine, the volume  for the year
1749, to meet with a short essay on the same
subject, which surprised me by its very stri-
king coincidence with some ideas  which had
formerly occurred to me.  I have reason to
believe that this essay is very  little known,
as I have never seen it referred to by any of
the numerous writers who have since treated
of the human mind; nor have even heard  it
once mentioned in conversation.  I had some
time ago the satisfaction to learn very acci-
dentally, that the  author was  Mr. Thomas
Melville, a gentleman who died at the early
age of twenty seven ; and whose  ingenious
observations on light and colours,  published
in the essays of the Edinburgh Philosophi-
cal Society, are well known over  Europe.
  The passages which coincide the most re-
markably with the  doctrine I have  stated,
are the following.  I quote the first with par-
ticular pleasure, on  account of the support
which it gives to an opinion  which I former-
ly proposed in the essay on  conception, ami 
103
on which I have the misfortune to differ from
some of my friends.
  " When I  am walking up the High-street
of Edinburgh, the objects which strikes my
eyes and ears give me an idea of  their pre-
sence; and this idea is lively,  full,  and per-
manent, as arising from the  continued oper-
ation of light and sound on  the organs  of
sense."
   " Again, when  I am  absent from Edin-
burgh, but conceiving or imagining myself to
walk up the high-street: in relating, perhaps,
what befel me on  such an  occasion,  I have
likewise in my mind an idea of what is usu-
ally seen and heard in the high-street: and
this idea of imagination is entirely similar to
those of sensation, though not so strong and
durable."
  " In this last instance, while the imagina-
tion last,  be  it ever  so short,  it is  evident
that I think myself in the street of Edinburgh,
as truly as when I dream I am  there, or even
as when I see and/eeZ I am there.  It is true,
we cannot so well apply the word belief in
this case ; because the perception is not clear
or steady, being  ever disturbed,  and soon
dissipated, by the superior strength of intru- 
101
ding sensation : yet nothing can be more ab-
surd  than to say, that  a man may, in the
same individual instant, believe he is in one
place, and imagine he  is in  another.   No
man can demonstrate that the objects of sense
exist  without him ; we are  conscious of no-
thing but our own sensations : how ever,  by
the uniformity, regularity,  consistency, and
steadiness of the impression,  we are led  to
believe, that  they  have a real and durable
cause without  us;  and we  observe not any
thing which contradicts this opinion.   But
the ideas of imagination, being transient and
fleeting, can beget no such opinion, or habi-
tual belief;  though there is as much perceiv-
ed in this  case, as in the former, namely, an
idea of the  object within the mind.  It will
be easily understood, that all this is intended
to obviate an objection that might be brought
against the similarity of dreaming  and ima-
gination, from our believing in sleep that all
is real.   But there is  one  fact that plainly
sets them both on a parallel, that in sleep we
often recollect that  the  scenes which we be.
hold are a mere dream in the same manner as
a person awrake is habitually convinced that 
105
 rhe representations  of his  imagination  are
 fictitious.'"
   " In  this essay we make no inquiry into
 the state of the body in sleep."
   " If the operations  of  the mind in  sleep
 can be fairly deduced from the same causes
 as  its operations when awake, we are cer-
 tainly  advanced one  considerable  step,
 though the causes of these  latter  should be
 still unknown.   The doctrine of gravitation,
 which is the most wonderful and extensive
 discovery in the whole compass  of human
 science, leaves  the descent  of heavy bodies
 as great a mystery as ever.   In philosophy,
 as  in geometry, the  whole  art of investiga-
 tion lies in  reducing things that are difficult,
 intricate,  and remote to what is simpler and
 easier of access, by pursuing and extending
the analogies of nature."
  On looking over the same  essay, I find an
 observation, which I stated  as  my own, in
 page 13/  of this work.   " The mere imagin-
 ation of a tender scene in a romance, or dra-
ma, will draw tears  from  the eyes of those,
who know  very well  when they recollect
themselves,  that the  whole is fictitious.   In
the  mean time they must conceive it is real; 
                  106
and from this  supposed reality afises all its
influence on the human mind,"
  The opinion of Dr. Rush on dreaming,
and the kindred affections, is contained in
Ms last and  very important work, entitled,
(i Medical Inquiries and Observations upon the
Diseases of the Human Mind." He considers
dreaming the effect of imperfect sleep ; and
as being in reality a transcient paroxysm of
delirium ; while delirium may be contempla-
ted as a more lasting  dream.   He  thinks
the remote causes  of Incubus or Nightmare,
the same with those of dreams.  In his judg-
ment, Somnambulism is  nothing but a lighter
grade of delirium, and  indeed, may  be de-
fined to be a  transcient paroxysm of mad-
ness and illusion,  or, what I call hallucina-
tion, is stated by  Dr. Rush to be a waking
dream.  His  chapter on the diseases of the
will is eminently worthy to be  read.  All
these phcnomenas are modifications of ^om-
nium > 
107
  [rush,  on the diseases of the mind.]
             chapter  xiv.
Of Dreaming, Incubii3, or Nightmare, and
             Somnambulism.
  To enumerate all the phenomena of dreams,
and to attempt an explanation of their proxi-
mate cause, would require  a previous  ac-
count of the theory of sleep,  and this would
render it necessary to introduce several physi-
ological principles,  all of which would be
foreign to the practical objects of this work ;
for which reason I shall barely remark, that
dreaming is the effect of unsound or imperfect
sleep.  That this is the case, is obvious, from
its being uncommon among persons who la-
bour,  and  sleep soundly afterwards ;  and
from its  causes  to  be  mentioned presently.
It is always induced by morbid cr irregular
action in the blood vessels of the brain,  and
henee it is accompanied with the same errone-
ous train, or the same incoherence of thought,
which takes place in delirium.
   This is so much the case, that a dream
may be considered  as a  transcient paroxysm
of delirium, and delirium as a permanent
dream.  It  differs from  madness in not be-
ing  attended  with muscular  action.  As 
108
dreams are  generally accompanied with dis
tress, and are often the premonitory signs of
acute diseases; their cure is an important ob-
ject  of the science of medicine.   Their  re-
mote cause are an increase, or diminution,
of stimuli upon the brain.
   I.  The increased stimuli are corporeal,
and  mental.
   1.  The corporeal stimuli are, an exces-
sive  quantity  of aliments or  drinks, or of
both, of an offensive quality  to the stomach,
a position of the head not habitual to the pa-
tient, cold,  heat,  noises, a  tight collar  or
wristbands, a fever^ opium,  a  full bladder,
inclination to go to stool; and lastly, light.
It is from  the  stimulus  of the  last cause,
that  we dream most after day-break in the
morning.
  2.   The mental  stimuli are, all disquiet-
ing  passions,  difficult studies  begun at bed
time, and an undue weight  of business.
  II.  Dreams  are induced by the diminu-
tion  of habitual stimuli, such as  customary
food, drinks, exercise  labour, studies,  and
business,   They are sometimes  terrifying,
or distressing, and not only  detract  from
the happiness of life, but, when neglected, 
109
 become the cause of more serious diseases in
 the  brain.  The remedies  for  them, when
 they are induced by an increase of stimuli,
 whether corporeal or mental,  should be :
   1.   Bleeding, or gentle purges, and low
 diet.   The famous pedestrian traveller, Mr.
 Stewart, informed me that he never dreamed,
 when  he lived exclusively on vegetable food.
   2.   Exercise, Or  labour,  which reduces
 excitement, and wastes excitability down to
 (Ue point  of natural and sound sleep.  Per-
 sons who work hard during the day, seldom
 dream.
   ■3.   Avoiding all its remote and exciting
 causes, more  especially such of them as act
 upon the mind in the evening.
   4*.   When dreaming arises from a diminu-
tion of customary stimuli, a light supper, a
draught of porter, a glass of wine, or  a dose
of opium, generally prevent them.  Habitual
 noises, when suspended, should be restored.
      Of the Incubus, or Nightmare.
   This disease  is induced by a stagnation of
the blood in the brain, lungs, or heart.   It
occurs when sleep is more profound than nat-
ural.   Its remote causes are the same as of
dreams.   To these may be added sleeping 
110
 upon the back, by which means the blood is
 disposed to stagnate in the places above men-
 tioned, from an excess or diminution of the
 force that moves it.
   Persons who go to bed in good healtli, and
 are found dead in their beds in the morning,
 it is supposed generally die of this disease.
   Its  remedies should  be the same as for
 dreams, with the additional one of sleeping
 alternately on each side.
            Of Somnambulism.
   I shall  introduce my remarks upon this
 disease by copying Dr. Hartley's correct and
perspicuous account of its cause, in  his " Ob-
servations upon Man."
   " Those who walk and talk in their sleep,"
says the doctor,  " have  evidently the nerves
of the muscles concerned so free, as that  vi-
brations, or nervous influence,  can descend
from the internal parts of the brain, the pe-
culiar residence of ideas, into them.  At  the
same time the brain itself  is so oppressed,
that they have scarce any memory.   Persons
who read inattentively, that is,  see and speak
almost without remembering; also those who
labour under such a morbid loss of memory,
as that though they see,  hear, speak and act, 
Ill
 pro ne nata, from moment to moment, yet for-
 get all immediately,  somewhat resemble the
 persons who walk and talk in their sleep."
   Dreaming, I have said, is a transcient par-
 oxysm of delirium. Somnambulism is nothing
 but a higher grade of the  same disease.   It
 is a transcient  paroxysm of madness.  Like
 madness it is accompanied with muscular ac-
 tion, Avith incoherent, or coherent  conduct,
 and with that  complete  oblivion  of both,
 which takes place in the worst grade of mad-
 ness.   Coherence of conduct discovers itself
 in persons who are affected with it, underta-
 king, or resuming, certain habitual exercise
 or employments.  Thus we read of the schol-
 ar resuming his studies, the poet his pen, and
 the artisan his labours, while  under its  in-
 fluence, with their usual  industry, taste, and
 correctness.   It extended still further in  the
 late Dr.  Blacklock,  of  Edingburgh,  who
 rose from his bed,  to which he had retired at
 an early hour, came into the room where  his
 family was assembled, conversed with them,
 and afterwards entertained them with a plea-
sant song, without any of them suspecting he
was asleep,  and without his retaining, after
he awoke, the least recollection of what  he
had done. 
113
   Persons who are affected with this disease
sometimes appear pale, and  covered  wi
profuse sweats.
   Its remedies  should be the same as for
dreaming, when it arises  from an increase
of corporeal or mental stimuli.  I have read
an account of two cures being performed,  by
placing a tub of water in the  bed room of
patients who were afflicted with it.
                 CHAP. xv.
                of Illusions.
   By this turn, I mean that disease in which
false perceptions take  place in the ears and
eyes,  in the waking state, from a morbid af-
fection of the brain, or of the sense, which is
the seat of the illusion.  It may be consider-
ed as  a  waking  dream.  Persons affected
with it, fancy they hear voices, or  see ob-
jects that  do not exist.   These false percep-
tions are said, by superstitious people,  to be
premonitions of death.   They sometimes in-
dicate,  either the forming state, or the  actu-
al existence of disease,  which being seated
most commonlv, in a highly vital part of the
body, that is the brain,  now and  then  ends
in death, and  thus  administers  support to
superstition.   They depend, like  false per. 
113
eeption in madness, upon motion being exci-
ted in a part of the ear  or  the eye, which
does not  vibrate with the impression  made
upon  it,  but communicates it to a part upon
which the impression of the  noise heard,  or
of the person seen, was formerly made, and
hence the one becomes audible, and the other
visible.
   The deception, when made upon the ears,
consists most commonly in hearing our  own
names, and for this obvious reason, we are
accustomed to  hear them pronounced more
frequently,  than any other words, and hence
the part  of the ear, which vibrates with the
sound of our names,  moves more promptly,
from  habit, than any  other part of it.  For
the same reason the deception, when made
upon  the eyes, consists  in seeing our own
persons,  or the  persons of our intimate
friends, whether living or dead, oftener than
any other people.   The part upon the retina,
from  which these  images  are reflected, move
more promptly, from habit,  than any other
of that part of the organ of vision.  The voice
which is supposed to be  heard,  and the ob-
jects  which are  supposed to be seen, are
never heard nor seen by two persons, even 
104
when they are close  to  each other.   This
proves them both to be the effect of disease
in the  single person, who  hears, or sees,
the supposed voice or object.  I am aware
that this explanation of illusions, may be ap-
plied to invalidate the accounts that are giv-
en in the  Old  and New Testaments of the
supernatural voices and  objects that were
heard or seen by individuals, particularly by
Daniel, Elisha, and St. Paul;  but they
should no more  have that effect, than  the
cures of diseases that  are performed by nat-
ural means should invalidate the accounts that
are given  in those books,  of the same diseas-
es being cured in a miraculous manner.
  But admitting the  voices  or objects, that
were heard or  seen, by the Prophets and
Apostle above mentioned, to have been pro-
duced by a change in the natural  actions of
the brain, or of the organs of hearing, or see-
ing,  that change,  considering  its design,
was no less supernatural, than if the voices
or objects supposed to have  been heard or-
seen, had been  real.   It is remarkable,  that
in all those cases,  where miracles were ne-
cessary, to establish a  divine  commission,
«r a new  doctrine,  every circumstance eon- 
113
nected with them,  was distinctly heard, or
seen,  not by an individual only, but by two
or three, and sometimes by several hundred
witnesses, in all of whom it is scarcely pos-
sible  for an illusion to have  existed at  the
same  time from natural causes.  The reme-
dies  for illusions should  be,  bleeding, pur-
ges,  and low diet, when the pulse indicate^
undue excitement in the arterial system.   A
certain Mr. Nicolai, a member of the acade-
my of sciences in Berlin, was much relieved
of this disease,  by the application of Leeches
to the hoemorshoidal vessels.
   In  a reduced state of the system, the rem-
edies should   be,  cordial diet,   and tonic
medicines.  Mr. Nicolai heard the voices of
his friends only when he was  alone, and in a
state  of inaction.  This fact suggests the ad-
vantages of company and exercise, as  addi-
tional remedies in this disease. 
116
 Letter from Joseph Priestly,  LL. D. &c.
    addressed to Dr. Mitchill, in 1801,  con-
    taining some thoughts concerning Dreams.
 Dear Sir,
       That ideas have a permanent existence
 in the mind cannot be denied, because some-
 times voluntarily,  and sometimes involunta-
 rily, they occur long after their first intro-
 duction.   The brain, therefore, by means of
 which the mind is furnished with all its ideas,
 and which is the repository of them, must be
 of such a texture as not only to  receive,  but
 firmly to retain,  the impressions  that  are
 made  upon it by the external senses. It must
 also be capable of keeping them in a dorment
 or quiescent state ;  for ideas may be forgot-
 ten, and, at a great distance of  time, recol-
 lected, and yet with the greatest certainty of
 their being the same  that they  were  at  the
 first.   By what  kind of mechanism this is
 effected is one  of the great secrets of nature;
 but the opinion of Mr. Hartley,  or  rather of
 Sir Isaac Newton,  seems the most probable,
 viz. that,  during  the presence of any sensa-
tion, some part of the substance of  the brain
is  in a  vibratory motion, and that in retaining
a disposition  to vibrate in the  same manner 
117
consists the dormant state of the ideas com-
municated by sensation.
  On any hypothesis/the disappearance of
any particular tram of ideas,  by their falling
into a dormant state, must consist in-the in-
aptitude of the  region of the brain to which
they belong to be excited ; and in the case of
sleep, this may blowing  either to the com-
pression of a part or the whole of the brain,
so that it shall be kept by force from perform-
ing its usual functions; or to relaxation, si-
milar to that of the fibres of the muscles in
the same state.   And as one of these is evi-
dently the cause  of the other,  the muscles
being necessarily relaxed during sleep,  it is
the more probable that they are both effected
in the same manner, at the same time.
  In whatever it be that this dormant state of
ideas consist, I cannot help  inferring, from
certain phenomena in dreaming, and also in
 delirium and intoxication, that in  the brain,
 whicli  is a substance  of  considerable size,
 there are different regions, in some of which
 ideas may be reposited out of the reach of or-
 dinary excitement,  but in which they may be
revived in particular circumstances, so  that
 few or no  impressions ever  made upon the 
118
mind are wholly lost; as was  observed by
Dr.  Rush, in a  very interesting note to his
Life of Mr. Drinker, Essays,  p.  296.
  That there actually  are regions of the
brain,  the  repository of ideas and of knowl-
edge, which, are sometimes out  of the reach
of voluntary  excitement,  is  evident from
some persons entirely forgetting certain lan-
guages when  they are  in health and sober,
and speaking them fluently in a state of  de-
lirium, insanity,  or intoxication,  of which
sohift remarkable instances are given by Dr.
Rush, in the note above mentioned.   One is
of a French countess who hatl  forgotten  the
Welsh language, which she had learned of
her nurse,  and yet spake  it, and no  other,
in the delirium of a fever ; and  another of a
young  man who, he told me, was  a fellow
student with  him at Edinburgh, who spoke
French fluently as he was conducting  him
to his  lodgings, after drinking  too much;
though the next day he not only remembered
nothing of it,  but was unable  to speak  that
language at all: but he  had been  well  ac-
quainted with it when he was a boy.  That
this knowledge of these languages,  and con-
sequently, the ideas that  were the elements ef 
119
it, actually existed in the mind and the brain*
though in a dormant state,  cannot,  therefore,
be denied: for  in  a state of  extraordinary
excitement, or excitement of a peculiar kind,
the knowledge of them was actually revived.
I have heard other facts of the  same kind
very well authenticated.
   In  a state  of perfectly sound  sleep, all
 ideas, as far as appears, remain in this  dor-
 mant state.   But this,  I believe,,is the  case
 with very few persons :  for  most persons ne-
 ver sleep without dreaming more or less:
 that is, though many  of their ideas are  in a
 dormant state, others are  not so, but occupy
 the mind, and sometimes even agitate  it to a
 great  degree, almost as much as in the most
 intense exercise of its powers when awake.
   With some persons these sleeping thoughts
 are a continuation of those with which the
 mind was occupied when it was awake; but
 with myself,  and many other persons,  this is
 very rarely the case, the  sleeping  thoughts
 having no connection whatever with the wak-
ing ones.  On the approach of sleep  they
may be observed to come from some  very
 different quarter,  and  gradually  to exclude
 Che others.  Consequently, while one part of 
ISO
 the brain is either compressed or relaxed by
 sleep, and  the ideas belonging to it become
 dormant, other parts are  more  excited; so
 that the ideas reposited in them  come forth,
 and occupy the  mind till the approach of vi-
 gilance.   This circumstance was first obser-
 ved to me by an ingenious friend in England.
 and since I have heard it I liave given par-
 ticular attention to it, as  much, at least, as
 the nature of the case will admit: for a per-
 son must awake in  particular critical  mo-
 ments to be able to make any observations of
 the kind.
   I remember, however, that before I heard
 lias remark  of my  friend's, I once  awoke
 from a dream attended  with circumstances
 exceedingly favourable  to his Idea, and the
hypothesis above  mentioned.   I thought I
 was attending a public speaker, whose voci-
 feration  was very loud,  and  his tones very
peculiar.   Before the harrangue was conclu-
 ded I awoke.  But still, though no articula-
tion  could be  perceived, I had a distinct
hearing of the peculiar tones of the  speaker,
resembling  notes  in music ; and lying  per-
fectly still, I attended to the sound a sensible
space of time.  To satisfy myself that I was 
ltf-1
really  awake, I opened  my eyes,  and saw
distinctly every thing in the room in which I
lay.   How long I might have retained this
sound, remaining from my  dream, I cannot
tell; but on a very slight motion of my head
it  instantly disappeared.   Some time after
this I awoke  from another  dream in similar
circumstances.   I thought I was examining
an unfinished  building,  and,  standing on
some rafters near the roof, I heard two of the
carpenters speaking very loud to each other;
and, awaking, I very distinctly heard the
sound of their voices, 9, short time afterwards,
though I  could not  distinguish any of their
words.
   In these cases it seems evident that the re-
gion  of the  brain  in  which  the  dreaming
thoughts prevail must have been different from
that which is occupied by the waking  ones,
and that one of the trains of ideas excluded
the other.
   If I might indulge a conjecture on so ob-
scure a subject,  it would be, that the region
of the  ideas which occur in dreams is more
deeply seated, and, therefore, that this  in-
terior part of the brain is  not so soon affected
by the cause of sleep  as the exterior part.   1 f 
im
sleep be occasioned  by the compression of
the brain, as experiments made on the Par-
isian beggar, who could be made to sleep at
pleasure, by pressing that part of his brain
which was not  covered by the skull, seems
to make probable, some light may be thrown
upon it from the consideration of the state of
the brain during sleep, when it is said all the
arteries of the body are more empty, and the
veins more full,  than  in a state of vigilance.
  In the brain, the veins do not accompany
the arteries, as  in other parts of the body,
but enter the skull, and issue from it in dif-
ferent places; and the  ramifications of the
veins spread over the lateral sinuses of the
dura mater, which incloses the brain.  Dur-
ing sleep,  therefore,  the external  parts  of
the brain will be compressed by the disten-
sion of these veins, while the arteries in the
interior part being less  distended than in  a
state  of vigilance, those parts of  the brain
that are contiguous to them will be relieved
from their usual pressure.
   If the  disappearance  of ideas in sleep be
owing to a relaxation  of any part of the brain,
it is  possible  that,  on this very  account,
other parts, at some  distance, may be  in  a 
123
state of greater tension, the principle of exci-
tability, whatever it be, being, as it were,
concentered in them.  But I am by no means
satisfied  with these conjectures, and only
mention the facts in order to draw the atten-
tion  of anatomists  and  physiologists to a
subject highly  interesting, and not yet  ex-
plored.
   It is something favourable to the hypothe-
sis of  tlie  ideas  excited in tlreams, having
their seat in  some  region of the brain more
deeply seated than that which is occupied by
our waking  thoughts, that  many  persons,
and I am one of the number, seldom dream
of any thing  that is recent.   The  persons
that occur in their dreams are generally those
that  have been long dead; but yet they  are
never considered as having been dead, but as
alive, and they speak and act in their proper
characters.
   It seems to  follow, from  this, that only
that part of the brain is at rest which was oc-
cupied by  the  more recent trains of ideas,
w hile those which penetrated deeper, are not
so much affected by the cause of sleep.   But
at  one time those ideas must have occupied
the regions affected  by sleep, and I am una- 
12-t
fele to form any tolerable conjecture how they
have come into a different situation.  I there-
fore leave the subject to your greater ingenu-
ity ; and am, with considerations of esteem
and respect, yours,  &c.
                     J.PRIESTLEY.
The Hon, Samuel L. Mitchill, 
125
  The case of Miss  Baker is unquestiona-
bly the most curious one of the kind on re-
cord;  but it is not the only one.  The Gen-
tleman's Magazine for May 1760, contains
an analogous instance.  Dr. Hooper, his son
Mr. H. and Captain Fisher, are the witnes-
ses who, attest the fact of a boy that deliver-
ed regular theological  discourses in fits; at
Reading, in  England.  On account of the
resemblance which that case bears to ours,
the article is borrowed entire from that high-
ly respectable work.  Vol. xxx. p. 236-840.
                                Editor.
              Reading, May 10, 1760.
Mr. Urban,
       The story I am now going to relate,
may be depended upon as a fact, and  how
incredible soever it may appear, there were
so many eye witnesses of the truth of it, that
no fact can be better attested. About the be-
ginning of the year 1759, one Joseph Payne,
a country  lad about sixteen,  came to live
w i tli Capt. Fisher of this town, as a foot boy;
he had before been servant  to a farmer, at
                  L3 
136
Lamboum  Woodlands, and till this time fol-
lowed the plough and other farming business.
He was wholly unacquainted with letters, but
was notwithstanding of a very serious turn;
attended constantly at church, and was very
attentive to what he heard there.  His master,
the farmer, was  a Quaker,  a man of strict
morals, and the lad profited much by the ex-
ample set before him in so regular a family;
where reading the scriptures,  and conversing
upon  religions topics, was a  principal part
of the employment of the leisure hours of the
master and his children, at which the  lad
was often present.
  After he had been some time in the service
of Capt. Fisher,  his fellow servant was  one
day alarmed by his falling into  a fit; being
much  frightened, she went to call other as-
sistance, and several people  were soon got
about him, who  were astonished to find  that
he  had begnn a very pertinent and  regular
discourse,  which he continued  for  half an
hour,  and then, as if rising from a trance,  or
waking from a profound sleep,  he came  to
himself,  and declared in the most solemn
manner, that he neither knew what had  hap-
pened, nor what he had said.  This was re- 
137
 ported  to his master, who ordered that the
 boy should be watched more narrowly, both
 as to his behaviour and conversation ; fearing
 lest he  should  have been  made  the instru-
 ment of some enthusiastical bigot,  no man
 detesting enthusiasm more.  In a few  days
 he was  seized  with  a second  fit, in which,
 he again discoursed as1 rationally as before;
 and in  little more than a week, Avith  a third ;
 at which uVe  Dr. Hooper, late  an  eminent
 man-midwife in Reading, and now of Queen-
 street, being upon a visit to his son's,  Capt.
 Fisher  dispached  a billet  to the  doctor, re-
 questing his presence  immediately, upon a
 matter of much curiosity. The doctor hasten-
 ed to the captain, and being told what he
 had to expect,  sent for his son, who wrote
 short hand;  being determined to convince
 himself of the truth of the fact.  By the time
 that young Mr. Hooper arrived, the  lad had
 begun to speak ; sitting  up with  great com-
 posure, but with his eyes fixed.  " Master,"
 said he, "will you  let us go to church  today ?
 it  is Good-Friday, we shall have a  sermon.
Ah! neighbours; be you going to church to
day ? I  have asked my master to let  me go ;
and though he dont hold with  sainsts' days 
128
 himself, he has given me leave;" a few more
 unconnected,  but sensible expressions, as if
 talking to the farmer his first master; he sup-
 posed himself to have been at church, named
 a text,  and repeated a kind of sermon  of
 which the following is an exact transcript.
    " They led him away to crucify him:v
   "Don't you know what was then done ? or
 do you  know  the meaning of this day, Good-
 Friday ? why it is to be kept holy ? You read
 in the scriptures; they honour me  with their
 lips, but their hearts are far from me;  they
 hear but do not understand. We find that the
 chief priests and rulers  led him,  or  caused
 him to be led  away to crucify him; they at-
 tempted to  do it before, but had not power,
 for his turn was not yet come. Chrnst him-
 self, before  he came upon earth, knew he
 was to suffer; and  this  day was the son of
 man nailed to the cross, whilst his inveterate
 enemies, the  Jews, with jears  and scoffs,
 telling him,  if he would shew himself to be
the son  of God, to come down from the cross,
 and save himself; but he prayed for  them,
 and said, Father forgive them, for they know
not what they do.   Dear  heart! if we did
but duly and rightly consider these things. 
129
 we should act very differently from what we
 do at present.  Did he not break  bread and
 bless it? observing at the same  time,  that
 one of his disciples that dipped with him at
 the table should betray him.  Good icere it for
 that man, if he had never been born.  When
 he was about to suffer, he cryed out, there is
 no sorrow like unto my sorrow, for the sins
 of the whole world bore  more heavily  upon
 him, and were more  painful by much than
 the nails in his hands and feet.
   " During these things all nature was darken-
 ed, and seemed to be out of order : the tem-
 ple was rent, and those who had been dead
 appeared out of their  graves.  Notwithstan-
 ding these terrible appearances, the Jews re-
 mained hard  heartened, and unbelieving;
 and when he was  laid in the sepulchre; the
 priest and rulers  caused a guard of soldiers
 to take care that  his disciples did  not steal"
 away the body.   On the sabbath day the an-
 gel of the Lord came  and  rolled  away the
 stone, and sat upon it, and for fear of him,
 the keepers  did shake and  became as dead
men.  When the  woman came, and were in-
formed,  by the angel  that Christ was risen,
they went back towards the city, and in their 
130
way met with him.  When this was report-
ed in Jerusalem, the Jews were so far from
being inclined  to believe  in him, that they
gave the soldiers that watched, large sums of
money to  say his body  was stolen away by
his disciples.  They even then would not be
convinced of their  stubbornness, and there
are too many remain so to this day.
   " As  Christ was  raised from the  dead on
Sunday, or  the first day  of the week, we
keep that day in commemoration of it, and is
called Easter-Sunday.  After his resurrect-
ion, he was seen of many.  Why do you asls
how I know these things ? I have it from the
scriptures, and  take  pains  and search for
them.   Is it not said,  seek and you  shall
find,  knock and it  shall be opened unto you,
ask and it shall be given you; for every one
that asketh receiveth, and  he  that seeketh
findeth, and to him that knocketh it shall be
opened.  How then can  any man expect to
find,  unless he seeks? or expect mercy with-
 out asking for it? or, is it reasonable to sup-
pose, in a natural sense, a door will be open-
 ed to you unless you first knock at it?  No,
 seek mercy and you shall find it, and then
 you will say at the last day, I have fought a 
131
good fight;  I have finished  my course; I
have kept the faith.   Henceforth is laid up
forjne a crown of righteousness, which  the
Lord, the righteous judge, shall give me at
that day: where  such will see him, in his
glorified  state, to offer up praises and thanks-
giving for ever and ever.  And Jesus took
bread and brake it; saying, do this  in  re-
membrance of me.   Likewise  the cup,; say-
ing, this is the new testament of my blood,
which is shed for you.  I will drink no more
of the fruit of the vine, until that day I drink
it new in the kingdom of heaven.  And when
they had sung an hymn, they went out into
the Mount of Olives.  Now we go to  church
from Sunday to Sunday,  confessing our ma-
nifold sins and wickedness, and come away
with no  alteration  in our former conduct.
We say: Almighty and most  merciful Fa-
ther,  we have erred and  strayed from  thy
ways like lost  sheep; we have followed too
much the devices  and desires of our  own
hearts; we  have offended against thy holy
laws;  we have left undone those things we
ought  to have done, and we have done those
things we ought not to have done,  and there
is no health  in us.  Now what benefit can 
133
 any person  expect from this confession,  un^
 less he does it with a sincere mind, and  full
 resolution, to  lead a better  life ? don't  we
 see the  contrary of this every day ? instead
 of composed and serious behaviour, how ma-
 ny run it over with a light,  airy,  and laugh-
 ing countenance, and are glad when the task
 is finished.  But thou,  0 Lord, have mercy
 upon us  miserable offenders.   When sinners
 go to church and crave mercy,  with what
 face can they* do it,  unless  it be with a full
 determination to change their ways ? do they
 not know they thereby add sin to sin ? has
 not the Lord declared, the  prayers of  the
 \yicked are an abomination  to him ? but God,
 looketh at that man that is of a broken and a
 contrite  heart,  and  trembleth at his  word,
for God  is a spirit,  and Avill be  worshiped
in spirit and in truth. Did  he not say to the
woman of Samaria; the hour cometh when
the Father is to be worshipped in spirit and
truth P the woman  said ;   we worship at
Jerusalem ; Jesus said, you worship ye know
not what: ice  know what  we worship: for
salvation is of the Jews.   But he came to his
own, and his own received him not.  Now
what  I have said,  I hope  you  will keep in 
133
 remembrance; be sober, not rioting in drunk-
 enness  and other wicked things ; leave the
 broad way and choose the narrow way;  the
 broadway leads to destruction,  but the nar-
 row to life everlasting.  Now for a compar-
 ison :  suppose every one who went  the for-
 bidden way, was to Ije soundly  whipt, when
 he came to his journey's end; would that
 man be in  his senses that made choice of it
 before the narrow, where, instead of punish-
 ment,  he  should find  a reward?  'for  he
 that knoweth my Father's will,  and doth it
 not, shall  be  beaten with  many  stripes.'
 Was you never chastised ? your farther nev-
 er whipt you for not doing your duty ? Perhaps
 you don't know what is required  of you ? why
 it is to honour your parents  and obey  the
 king, and all that are put in authority under
 him ; to submit yourself to all your govern-
 ed ; to order yourself lowly and reverently
 to all your betters ; to hurt nobody by word
 or  deed; that  is, not  to speak ill,  or use
 abusive language, but you must  carry your-
 self soberly and with charity  towards your
 neighbour,  'to be true and just in all your
dealings,' that  is, to  do to every body  as
you would they should do unto you.  Take
                   M 
131
 not  the Lord's name  in  vain :  and  yet you
 say.  < O Lord our heavenly Father,  almigh-
 ty  and  everlasting  God, who has safely
 brought  us to the beginning of this day ; de-
 fend us in the same by thy mighty power, and
 grant that this day we fall  into no sin, nei-
 ther run into  any kino" of danger;' which
 begs of God almighty to govern and protect
 us with his  good spirit.  But it is plain you
 don't know the true  meaning of the  words,
 and we may well  say,  'we  have erred
 and strayed from thy ways like  lost  sheep,'
 by  which there is too much reason to  fear,
 we shall stray  into everlasting  destruction.
 For ' my thoughts  are  not your  thoughts,
 neither   are  my  ways,   like  your ways,'
 saith the  Lord: ' you  honour  me  with
your lips, but your hearts are far from me,'
as was observed  before; behaving  not  as
 worshippers,  but as  hypocrites;  for God
 is not to be mocked; is not to be  deceiv-
 ed :  you  may   indeed deceive yourselves,
 and one another.   We are commanded to re-
 tire  in secret to our chambers and commune
With our  hearts.   Seek the  Lord,  while he
 may be found, call  upon him, he is near:
 lei the wricked forsake his ways, and  the un- 
135
  righteous man his thoughts, and let  him re-
  turn unto the Lord,  and he will have mercy
  upon him, and  to our  God, and  he  will
  abundantly pardou.
    " You will say, perhaps, how  are  these
  things to he known? they are to be found in
  the  old  and  new testament; wherein  it  is
  said, 'that God  has subjected  every crea-
  ture to man's use; thai the beasts of the field
  and the fowls of the air, are his  by appoint-
 ment, and  that he is made governour of  all
 things.'   And did not God put his blessing
 on  them,  and  every thing for man's benefit,
  come ye out and  be separate, and  touch not
  the unclean thing; come out from amonjrst
 them.  Your  servant,  your servant; very
 well, very  well, indeed, so  we have had  a
 good sermon.  My master is very good, he
 never denies me any thing when I  ask him.
 If we have faith sir, it will do, but not a dead
 faith ; for the  devil had a faith but it was a
 dead, one.  The faith we are to hold must be
 a living  faith, and with this faith we shall
Jive a godly, sober, and religious life,  which
will  make us acceptable in the end,  whether
*ve be of the established religion,  or dissen-
 ts.   Y 011 say my  master is a quaker; what 
136
of that? I am  afraid there will be too many
of us, who will both quake and tremble too,
when they appear before that awful tribunal
of the judgment seat, to hear pronounced the
terrible sentence, Go ye cursed into everlast-
ing fire, prepared for the devil and his  an-
gels, where the worm never dieth, and  the
fire  is never quenched!   This will be  the
portion of every sinner, without a timely and
true repentance.   Finding  blemishes  and
faults in other people,  will be of no manner
of service to you; you must pluck the beam
out  of your own eye, before you can  see
clearly the mote that is in your brother's eye.
Judge not therefore, lest ye be judged.   For
having received baptism will avail you noth-
ing, except you live up to it, and lead a god-
ly and righteous life ;  you must be baptized
of the spirit, as well as with water : Except
a man be born of water  and the spirit,  &c*
And again, Except a man  be born again,
he can in no wise enter into the kingdom of
God; which  is not to re-enter into  his mo-
ther's womb ;  it is to be new generated, born
again, or become as a new born babe ; that
is,  cleansed from all his sins and unright-
eousness :  hence  we see the insignificancy of 
137
 baptizing infants.  Alackaday,  what  sin
 have  they committed!  baptism is designed
 for a  man grown to years  of knowledge,
 when he is capable of distinguishing betwixt
 good  and evil; when he can  see his errors ;
 then it is he is to be baptized, whereby to be
 regenerated and washed from  his sins.   The
 scriptures teach these things ; the poor as well
 as the  rich may come to the knowledge of
 them, through  the providence of God, who
 is no respecter of persons. The rich, indeed,
 arc generally most learned, and, consequent-
 ly, have greater opportunity  of being more
 informed ; but then more is required at their
 hands ;  for God expects  no more of any man
 than what he  does  know, as  we find in the
 parable of the unprofitable servant, who, if
 he  iiad made  a proper use of  the one talent
 given him, would have been equally accep-
 table to his master, as that servant who had
 ten talents, and then, at his coming, he might
 have required his own with usury.  ' Let the
 unprofitable servant, therefore,  be cast into
 outer darkness,  where shall  be weeping and
gnashing of teeth ;  for many are called, but
few are chosen.'  God hath  chosen the  fool-
ish tilings of tlie world to confound the wise,
                  MS 
138
and the weak things to confound them that
are mighty. Every tree is known by its fruit;
if it becomes  barren, and produces nothing,
that tree is rooted up, and cast into the fire :
so every man  is known by his works,  and he
that  does not work  the  works  of righteous-
ness,  shall perish everlastingly.  I speak it
as plain as I can:  you are a  scholar, and
have  time to  read;  I have not.   Remember
this day our Saviour shed his blood  for all
mankind : consider, sir,  before it be too late,
and not like the rich man in the  gospel, who
lifted up his eyes in hell, and repented when
the opportunity  was passed away.  Let us,
therefore, pray to God,  that he would guide
us in  all his ways, and  see  that we  go  not
aside. How, do you.say,  shall we know
all this ? why,  by the scriptures, from  the
end of Revelations to the beginning of Gene-
sis ;  I, sir, have it  from no other book.
  " I am much obliged  to you.   Your hum-
ble servant, sir."
  He now began to recover,  and, in another
tone,  uttered  a few rambling expressions, as
at the beginning, and then roused himself, as
coming out of a profound sleep.
  Dr. Hooper,  to  be  certain, whether  he 
139
might not be an imposter, who, by habit had
contracted a method of fixing his eyes in his
head, and  by memory repeating such dis-
courses, ordered, upon one of these occasi-
ons, a candle to be  lighted, the  flame  of
which he held to his hand as he stretched it
out in his discourse,  and, though it raised a
blister,  yet it did not seem to give the lad the
least sensation of pain whatever. 
150
 The Sentiments of Joseph Addison, Esq.
                on Dreams.
   [They are very ingenious and instructive;  and are
 taken from the Spectator, Nos. 580 and 593.]

   It was a good piece of advice which Py-
 thagoras gave to his scholars, that every night
 before  they slept they should examine what
 they had  been  doing that day, and so discov-
 er what  actions were worthy of pursuit to-
 morrow, and what little vices were to be pre-
 vented  from slipping unawares  into a  habit.
 If I might second the philosopher's advice,
 h should be mine, that in a morning before my
 scholar rose, he should consider what he had
 been about that night, and with  the  same
 strictness, as if the condition he  has believed
 himself to be in, was real.   Such a scrutiny
 into the actions of his  fancy must be of con-
 siderable  advantage;  for this reason, because
 the circumstances which a man imagines him-
 self in  during sleep, are  generally such as
 entirely favour  his inclinations, good or bad,
 and give him  imaginary  opportunities of
pursuing them to the utmost; so that his tem-
per will lie fairly open to  his view, while he
considers  how  it is moved when  free from 
151
 those constraints which the accidents of real
 life put it under.  Dreams are certainly the
 result of our waking thoughts, and our daily
 hopes and fears are what give the mind such
 nimble relishes of pleasure, and such severe
 touches of pain in its midnight rambles.   A
 man that murders his enemy, or deserts  his
 friend, in  a dream, had need to guard  his
 temper against revenge  and ingratitude, and
 take heed that he be not tempted to do a vile
 thing in the pursuit  of false, or the  neglect
 of true honour.  For my part, I seldom re-
 ceive a  benefit, but in a night or two's time
 I make most noble returns for it;  which,
 though my benefactor is  not a whit the better
 for, yet it pleases me to think that it was from
 a principle of gratitude in me that  my mind
 was susceptable  of such generous transports,
 while I thought myself repaying the kindness
 of my friend :  and I have often been ready
 to beg pardon,  instead of returning an injury,
 after considering that when  the offender was
 in my power, I had carried my resentments
much too far.
  I think it has been  observed, in the course
of your papers, how much one's happiness or
misery may depend upon  the imagination ; 
153
 of which truth those strange workings of fan-
 cy in sleep are no  inconsiderable instances;
 so that not only the advantage a man has of
 making discoveries of himself, but a regard
 to his own ease or disquiet, may induce him
 to accept of my advice.  Such as are willing
 to comply with it, I shall put into a way of
 doing it with pleasure, by observing only one
 maxim which I shall give them, viz.  " To
 go to bed with a mind entirely free from pas-
 sion, and a body clear of the least intemper-
 ance."
   They, indeed, who can sink into sleep
 with their thoughts less calm or innocent than
 they should  be,  do but plunge  themselves
 into scenes of guilt and misery ; or they who
 are willing to purchase any midnight disqui-
 etudes  for the satisfaction of  a full meal, or
 a skin  full of wine ; these I have nothing to
 say to, as not knowing how to invite them to
 reflections full of shame and horror : but those
 that will observe this rule, I promise them
 they shall awake into health and cheerful-
 ness, and be  capable of recounting with de-
light those glorious moments, wherein the
mind has been indulging itself in such luxu-
ry of thought, such noble hurry of imagina- 
153
tion.  Suppose a man's going supperless t«
bed should introduce him to the table of some
ereat prince or other, where he shall be en-
tertained with the noblest marks  of honour
and plenty, and do so much business  after,
that he shall rise  with as good a stomach for
his breakfast as  if he had fasted  all night
long: or suppose he should  see his dearest
friends  remain all  night in great distresses,
which he could instantly  have disengaged
them from, could he have been content to
have gone  to bed without the other bottle.
Believe me, these effects of fancy are no con-
temptable consequences of commanding or in-
 dulging one's appetite.
   I forbear  recommending my advice upon
 many other accounts, until I  hear how you
and your readers relish what  I have already
said; among whom,  if there be any that may
pretend it is useless to them, because they
never dream at  all, there may  be others,
perhaps, who do little else all day long. Were
every one as sensible as I am of what happens
to him in his sleep, it  would be no dispute
whether we pass so considerable a portion
of  our  time  in the  condition  of stocks and
stones, or whether the soul were not perpet- 
154
 ually at work upon the principle of thought.
 However, it is and honest endeavour of mine
 to persuade  my countrymen to reap advan-
 tage from so many unregarded hours, and
 as such you will encourage it.
   I shall conclude with giving you a sketch
 or two of my way of proceeding.
   If I have  any business of consequence to
 do to-morrow, I am  scarce dropt asleep to-
 night but lam in the midst of it; and when
 awake, I consider the whole procession of the
 affair, and get the advantage of the next day's
 experience before the sun has  risen upon it.
   There is scarcely  a great post but what I
 have some time or other been in; but my be-
 haviour while I was master of a college
 pleases me so well, that whenever there is  a
 province of  that nature vacant, I intend to
 step in as  soon as I can.
  I have done many  things that would  not
 pass examination, when  I have had the art
 of flying, or being invisible ; for which rea-
 son I am  glad I am not possessed of  those
 extraordinary qualities.
  Since we have so little time to spare, that
none of it may be lost, I see no reason why
we should neglect to examine those imagin- 
155
  ary  scenes wc are presented with in  sleep,
  only because  they have less reality in them
  than our waking  meditations.  A traveller
  would bring  his judgment in question, who
  should despise the directions of his map for
  want of real roads in it, because here stands
  a dot instead of a  town, or a cypher instead
  of a city; and it must be a long day's journey
  to travel through two or three inches.   Fan-
  cy  in dreams, gives us much  such another
  landscape of life,  as that does of countries ;
  and, though its appearance may seem strange-
  ly jumbled together, we may often observe
  such traces and footsteps of noble  thoughts,
  as,  if carefully pursued, might lead us into
  a proper path of action.  There is so much
  rapture and ecstacy in our fancied bliss, and
  something so dismal and shocking in our fan-
 cied  misery, that,  though the inactivity of
 Hie body has given  occasion for calling sleep
 the image of death, the briskness of the fan-
 cy affords us a strong intimation of something
 within us that can never die.
  I have wondered  that Alexander the Great,
who came into the  world sufficiently dream-
ed of by his parents, and had himself a tol-
erable knack at dreaming, should often say 
156
that  sleep was  one thing which made  him
sensible  he was  mortal.   I, who have not
such fields of action in the day time to divert
my attention from this  matter,  plainly  per-
ceive that in those operations of the mind,
while the body is at rest, there is a certain
vastness of conception very suitable to the ca-
pacity, and demonstrative of that divine part
in our composition  which will last for ever.
Neither do I much  doubt but,  had we a true
account of the wonders the hero last mention-
ed performed in his sleep, his conquering
this little globe w7ould hardly be worth men-
tioning.   I may affirm, without vanity,  that,
when I compare  several actions in Quintius
Curtius with some others in my own noctuary,
I appear the  greater hero of the two.
  I  shall close this subject with observing,
that  while we are awake, we are  at liberty
to fix our thoughts on what we please, but in
sleep, we have not the  command of them.
The ideas which  strike the fancy arise in  us
without our choice, either from the occurren-
ces  of the day past, the temper we lie down
in, or it may be the direction of some superi-
or being.
   It is certain the imagination may be so dif- 
157
ferently affected in sleep,  that our actions of
the day might f.e eiilier rewarded or punished
with a  little age  of happiness  or misery.
St. Austin was of opinion that if, in Paridise,
there was the same vicissitude of sleeping and
waking as in the present w orld, the dreams
of its inhabitants would be very happy.
   And so far at present are our dreams in
our  power, that they are generally   con-
formable to our waking thoughts, so that it is
not impossible \f> convey ourselves to a  con-
cert  of music, the  conversation of distant
friends, or any other entertainment which has
been before lodged in the mind.  My readers
by applying these hints, will find the neces-
sity of making a good day of it, if they hear-
tily wish themselves a good night. 
158
  Remarkable case of Somnambulism, where a
    woman, debilitated with phthisis went to
    the sea shore to see a whale that was stran-
    ded there, and knew nothing of the adven-
    ture afterward.
    The following instance of Somnium, with
 walking, occurred within a few years at East-
 hampton, in the  county of Suffolk,  on Long-
 Island.
   The ocean which washes the south side of
 Long-Island is frequented by, whales.  These
 creatures are sometimes harpooned  by men
 who attack them  in boats from the shore, and
 at  others, they mistake the depth of water,
 and get aground  on the shoals.   The atten-
 tion of the inhabitants was  called to a ceta-
 ceous animal of extraordinary size which had
 been killed.  The body had been towed to
 land, and lay exposed at full length upon the
 shore.   Every person talked of  the whale,
 and the greater part of the people flocked to
 the place where he lay, to gratify their curi-
 osty.   This occurrence and its circumstances
furnished materials for much discourse,  and
the prominent topic of conversation  was the
huge inhabitant of the ocean that was cast up-
on the beach. 
159
   Under the influence of such prevalent sen-
 timents, Miss H----found herself in the dead
 of night in the path running near the dwel-
 ling of a neighbour about two miles from her
 own home.   She was alone,  covered only
 by her  night-dress,  and  had been  excited
 from her somnial state by  the  barking of a
 dog, as she was walking by the house.  On
 coming to herself she  was wholly at a loss to
 know where she was, or where she had been.
 Her cries soon brought the people to the win-
 dow.  They received her,  clothed her, kept
 her until morning, and then sent a message
 to her friends.
    As far  as  could be discovered,  she had
 risen from her  bed and proceeded,  by the
 shortest  route to the place  where the whale
 lay.  Tracks  which were believed to have
 been by her feet,  were distinguished in the
 sand, from the  upland to the margin  of the
 eea.  By them, it was judged that she had ap-
 proached near and examined the creature by
 a close survey.   Having gratified her  curi-
 osity, they followed  her  steps back to the
 firm ground; she was on her return, and had
 reached about one third of the distance back,
when the noise  made  by the dog broke the
                   N2 
160
 spell which had enchained her faculties.  On
 becoming thus acquainted with her situation,
 she  was  so  lost,  bewildered,  and terrified,
 that she could proceed no further.   She re-
 treated until  morning to the asylum offered
 to her, and, with the utmost exercise of her
 recollection,  she could recover nothing that
 passed from  the moment she  fell asleep to
 that of being waked by the dog.
   It was, nevertheless,  ascertained  to the
 satisfaction of all her friends, and of the neigh-
 bours, that she had been to the ocean side
 on a visit to the whale.
   A remarkable circumstance accompanying
 this transaction, is, that the woman who per-
formed the feat, was far gone in consumption,
 and  had  been withheld from going with the
family to witness the spectacle from her great
 debility, and from indifference accompanying
her belief that  she  had  but a  short time to
live. 
                     161
 Somnium, illustrated  by the case of Colonel
   James Gardiner; as is related by P. Dod-
   dridge, D.  D. in his book  entitled " Re-
   markable passages in the Life of Col. James
   Gardiner,9' p. 45. 8£c.

   This is one of the strongest examples on record of
 hallucinations in the  senses of a sensual and wicked
 man : Dr, D.  himself, deserves high  commendation
 for his caution and candor in relating it.  The person
 who is acquainted with the somnial condition of the
 human faculties, will know  how to explain it without
 supernatural aid.                      editors.

   This memorable  event happened towards
 the  middle of July, 1719;  but I cannot be
 exact as to the day.  The major had spent
 the  evening and, if I mistake not, it was the
 sabbath in  some gay company, and had an
 unhappy assignation with a  married woman,
 of what rank or quality I did not particularly
 inquire, whom he  was to attend  exactly at
 twelve.  The company broke up about  ele-
 ven;  and not judging it convenient to antici-
pate the time  appointed, he went  into  his
chamber to kill the tedious hour, perhaps with
some amusing book, or some other way.  But
it very accidently happened, that he took up 
163
a  religious hook, which his good mother or
aunt had, without his knowledge, slipped into
his portmanteau.   It Was called, if I remem-
ber the title exactly, 'TheChristian Soldier,
or Heaven taken by Storm;' and was written
by Mr. Thomas Watson.  Guessing,  by the
title of it, that he should find some phrases
of his own profession spiritualized, in a man-
ner which he thought might afford him some
diversion, he resolved to dip into it;  but he
took no serious notice of any thing he read
in it;  and yet, while this  book was  in his
hand, an impression was made upon his mind,
perhaps God only knows how, which drew
after it a train of the most important and hap-
py consequences.
  There is indeed, a possibility, that while
he was sitting in this attitude, and reading in
this careless  and  profane manner, he might
suddenly fall asleep, and only dream of what
he apprehended he saw.   But nothing  can
be more certain, than that, when he gave me
this relation,  he judged himself to  have been
as broad awake, during the whole time, as
he ever was in  any part of his life;  and he
mentioned it to  me several  times afterwards, 
163
  as what undoubtedly passed,  not only in his
  imagination, but before his eyes.*
     He thought he saw an unusual blaze of li«-ht
  fall on the book while he was reading, which
  he at first imagined  might happen  by  some
  accident  in the  candle.   But  lifting up his
  eyes, he apprehended, to his extreme amaze-
  ment, that there was before him, as it  were
  suspended in the air, a visible representation
  of the Lord Jesus Christ upon the cross, sur-
  rounded on all sides  with glory; and was
  impressed as if a voice, or something equiva-
  lent to a voice,  had come to him,  to this  ef-
  fect, for he was not confident as to the very
  words,  "Oh! sinner, did  I  suffer this  for
  thee, and are these the returns ?" But wheth-
  er  this  were an  audible  voice, or only  a
   * 3Ir. Spears, in the letter mentioned above, where he intro-
 duces (he colonel telling his own story, has these words ;  " All
 of a sudden there was presented in a very lively manner, to my
 view, or to my mind, a representation of my glorious Redeem-
 er,"  &c.  And this gentleman adds, in a parenthesis, " It was
 so lively and striking, that he could not tell, whether it was to
 his bodily eyes, or to those of his mind."  This makes me think,
 that what I had said to him on the phenomena of visions, ap-
 paritions, &c. [as being,  when most real, supernatural impres-
 sions on the imagination, rather than attended with any exter-
nal object] had some influence upon him.  Yet still it is evident,
he looked upon this as a vision, whether it  were before the
eyes or in the mind, and not as a dreara. 
16*
strong impression on his mind equally stri-
king, he did not seem very confident; though,
to the best of my  remembrance, he  rather
judged it to be the former.   Struck with so
amazing a phenomenon as this, there remain-
ed hardly any life  in him, so that he sunk
down in the arm-chair, in which he sat, and
continued,  he knew not exactly how long,
insensible ; which was one circumstance that
made me several times take the liberty to
suggest that  he might possibly be all this
while  asleep;  but  however  that  were,  he
quickly after opened his eyes, and saw noth-
ing more than usual.
   It may easily be supposed, he was  in no
condition to make  any observation upon the,
time in which he had remained in an insen-
sible state.   Nor did he, throughout all the
remainder  of the night, once recollect that
criminal and detestable assignation  which
had before engrossed all his thoughts.   He
rose in a tumult of passions not to be conceiv-
ed ; and walked to and fro in his chamber, till
he was ready to drop down in unutterable as-
tonishment and agony of heart;  appearing
to himself the vilest monster in the creation
of God,  who had all his life time been cruci*. 
i   165
lying Christ afresh by his sins, aud now saw,
as he assuredly believed,  by a miraculous
vision, the horror  of  what he had  done.
With this was connected such a view, both
of the majesty and goodness of God, as caus-
ed him to loath and abhor himself, and ' to
repent as in  dust and  ashes.'   He immedi-
ately gave judgment against himself, that he
was most justly worthy of external damna-
tion ; he was astonished,  that he  had not
been immediately  struck  dead in the midst
 of his wickedness : and,  which I think  de-
 serves particular remark,  though he assur-
 edly believed that  he should ere long  be  in
 hell, and settled it as a point  with himself
 for several months, that the wisdom and jus-
 tice  of  God did almost necessarily require
 that such an  enormous sinner should be made
 an example of everlasting vengeance, and a
 spectacle, as such, both to angels and men,
 so that he hardly durst presume  to pray for
 pardon ; yet what he then suffered, was not
 so much from the fear of hell, though he con-
 cluded it would soon be his portion, as from
 a sense  of that horrible ingratitude  he had
 shown to the God of his life, and to that bles* 
166
 sed Redeemer, who had been in so affecting
 a manner set forth as crucified before him.
   To this he refers in  a letter dated from
 Douglass, April  1,  1735, communicated to
 me  by his lady, but I know not to whom it
 was addressed.   His words are  these : "One
 thing relating to my convertion, and a remar-
 kable instance of the goodness of God to me
 the  chief of  sinners, I do not remember that
 I ever told to any other person.   It was this ;
 that after the astonishing sight  I had of my
 blessed Lord, the terrible condition in which
 I was, proceeded not so much from the ter-
 rors  of the law,  as from a sense of having
 been so ungrateful a monster to him whom I
 thought I saw pierced for my transgressions,"
 I the rather insert these words,  as they evi-
 dently attest the circumstance   which may
 seem most amazing in this affair, and con-
 tain  so express  a declaration  of  his own ap-
prehension concerning it. 
167
      An interesting Essay on Dreams.
   The following sentiments on Dreams, were commu-
nicated by Clio Rickman to the editor of the London
Universal Magazine, in May 1810.  They  were con-
ceived by a vigorous mind, and written by an able
hand.  They are  inserted in the present publication,
on account of their profound sagacity and intrinsic
merit 9 and they deserve the consideration of all those
who study the mind and its operations.
                                   EDITORS,

   In order  to  understand  the  nature of
dreams,  or of that which passes  in ideal vi-
sion during a state of sleep,  it is first neces-
sary to understand the composition  and de-
composition of the human mind.
   The three great faculties of the mind are,
imagination, judgment, and memory.   In a
state of wakefulness, as in  the day  time,
these three faculties are all active ;  but that
is seldom the case  in sleep, and never per-
fectly ; aud this is the cause that our dreams
are not so regular and rational as our waking
thoughts.
   The scat of that collection of powers, or
faculties, that constitute  what is called the
mind, is  in the  brain.  There  is not, and
cannot be,  any visible demonstration of this
                     O 
168
anatomically; but accidents happening  to
living persons show it to be so.  An injury
done to the brain, by a fracture of the skull,
will sometimes  change a  wise man into a
Childish idiot; a being without a mind.  But
so careful has nature been  of that  sanctum
sanctorum of man, the brain, that of all the
external accidents to which humanity is sub-
ject, this occurs the most seldom.   But we
often see it happening by long  and habitual
intemperance.
  Whether those three faculties occiipy dis-
tinct apartments of the brain, is known only
to that Almighty power that formed  and or-
ganized it.   We can see the external effects
of muscular motion in all the members of the
body,  though its  primum mobile, or  first
cause,  is unknown  to man.  Our  external
motions are sometimes the effect of intention,
sometimes not.  If  we  are sitting and in-
tend to rise, or standing, and  intend  to
git, or to walk, the limbs obey that inten-
tion, as if they heard  the order  given.   But
we make a thousand motions every day, and
that as well waking as sleeping,  that have no
prior intention to direct them.   Each mem-
ber acts as if it had a will or mind of its own. 
169
   Man governs the whole  when  he pleases
 to  govern,  but  in  the interim, the  several
 parts, like  little suburbs, govern themselves
 without consulting  the sovereign.   And  all
 these motions, whatever  be the generating
 cans;', arc external and visible.  But  with
 respect t<> the brain, no occular observation
 ran be made up'on it.  All is mistery ! All is
 darkness  in that womb of thought!
   Whether the brain is a mass of inatter in
 continual  rest; whether  it  has a  vibrating,
 pulsatiye  motion, or  a heaving and falling
 motion, like matter in fermentation ;  wheth-
 er different  parts of the brain have different
 motions according  to the faculty that is em-
 ployed, be it  the imagination, the judgment,
 or the memory, man knows nothing of it. He
 knows not  the cause of his own wit.  His
 own brain conceals it. from him.
  Comparing invisible by visible things,  as
 metaphysical can sometimes be compared to
 physical things,  the operations of these dis-
 tinct and several  faculties h.ive some resem-
 blance to a watch.   The main spring, which
 puts all  in  motion, corresponds to the ima-
gination :  the pendulum,  which corrects and
regulates  that motion, corresponds to the 
170
judgment; and the hand and dial,  like the
memory, record the operation.
  Now,  in proportion as these several facul-
ties sleep, slumber, or keep  awake, during
the continuance of a dream,  in that propor-
tion will the dream be reasonable or frantic,
remembered or forgotten.
  If there is any  faculty in mental man that
never^ sleeps, it is that volatile thing, the im-
agination.  The case  is different with the
judgment and memory.  The sedate and so-
ber constitution of the judgment easily dispo-
ses it to  rest,  and as  to  the memory, it re-
cords in silence,  and is active only when  it
is called upon.
  That the judgment soon goes to sleep, may
be perceived by our sometimes  beginning  to
dream before  we are fully asleep ourselves.
Some random thought runs in the mind, and
we start, as it were,  into recollection, that
we are  dreaming, between sleeping and wa-
king.  If the pendulum  of a watch, by any
accident, becomes displaced, that it can no
longer control  and regulate the elastic force
of the spring,  the works are instantly thrown
into confusion, and continue so  as long  as
the spring continues to have force.   In like 
171
manner, if the judgment sleeps, while the
imagination keeps awake, the dream will be
a riotous  assemblage of misshapen  images
and ranting ideas,  and the more active the
imagination is, the wilder the dream will be.
The most  inconsistent and the most impossi-
ble things  will appear right,  because that fa-
culty, whose province it is to keep order, is
in a state of absence.  The master of the
school is  gone out, and  the boys are in an
uproar.
  If the memory sleeps, we shall have no
other knowledge of the dream, than that we
have dreamt,  without knowing what it was
about.   In this  case it  is sensation, rather
than recollection, that acts.   The dream has
given us some sense of pain or trouble, and
we feel it  as a hurt, rather than remember it
as a vision.
  If the memory slumbers,  we shall have a
faint remouibraucc of the dream, and after a
few minutes it will  sometimes happen, that
the principal  passages of the dream will oc-
cur to us more fully.   The cause of  this is,
that  the  memory  will  sometimes  continue
r-lumheriug or sleeping,  after we are  awake
aurselves, and that so fully,  that it may. and
                  O *■ 
173
 sometimes does happen, that we do not im-
 mediately recollect where we are, nor what we
 have been about, or have to do.  But  when
 the memory starts into wakefulness, it brings
 the knowledge of these things back upon us
 like a flood of light, and sometimes the dream
 with it.  '
   But the most curious circumstance  of the
 mind in the state of dream is, the power  it
 has  to become the agent of every person,
 character,  and thing, of which  it dreams.
 It carries  on conversation with several, asks
 questions,  hears answers, gives and receives
 information, and it acts all  these parts itself.
 Yet, however variously eccentric the ima-
 gination may  be in the creating of images and
 ideas,  it cannot supply the place of memory,
 with  respect to things that are forgotten,
 when we  are  awake.  For example,  if we
have  forgotten  the  name of a  person, and
 dream of seeing him  and asking his name,
 he cannot  tell it, for it is  ourselves asking
 ourselves the question.
  But thohgh the imagination cannot supply
 the place  of real  memory,  it has the  wild
 faculty of counterfeiting memory.  It dreams
 ©f persons it never knew, and talks to them 
173
as if it remembered them as old acquaintance,
It relates circumstances that never happened,
and tells them as if they had happened.   It
goes to places that never existed, and knows
where all the streets and houses  are, as if
we had been there  before.   The scenes it
creates are often as sceues remembered.   It
will sometimes  act a dream within a dream,
and, in the  delusion  of  dreaming,  tell  a
dream it never dreamed,  and tell it as if it
was from memory.
   It may also be remarked, that  the imagi-
nation, in a dream,  has no idea of time, as
time; it counts only by circumstances, and
if a  succession of  circumstances pass  in a
dream, that  would require a great length  of
time to accomplish them, it will appear to the
dreamer, that a length of time equal thereto
has passed also.
   As  this is the state of the mind in a dream,
it may rationally be said,  that every person
is mad once  in twenty-four hours; for were
he to act in the day as he dreams in the night,
he would be confined for a lunatic.
   In a state of wakefulness those three facul-
ties being all  active, and acting in unison.
constitute the rational man. 
174
  In dream it  is  otherwise, and therefore,
that state which is called insanity, appears to
be no other than a dismission of those facul-
ties,  and a cessation of the judgment during
wakefulness, that we so often experience dur-
ing sleep; and idiotism, into which some
persons have fallen, is that cessation of all
the faculties of which  we can be  sensible,
when we happen  to  awake  before our me-
mory.
A remarkable case of Somnium, in which the
  individual  affected  was seized with a pa-
  roxysm during the sitting of a religious
  meeting, went to his lodging afterwards and
  dined,  and then performed several opera-
  tions in arithmetic,  without remembering
  any thing whatever of the matter.  In  a
  letter from Goold Brown, Esq. to  Samuel
  L. Mitchill, dated New-York, 27 th April,
  1815.
  Agreeably to thy request, I will state
more fully the circumstances of a remarka-
ble case of Somnambulism, mentioned some
time ago, w ith which I was  personally and 
175
particularly  acquainted.  If  the facts  are
such as will  throw any light  upon the curi-
ous and interesting inquiry into  the state of
the human mind during sleep,  or help in any
degree to explain the phenomena of dreaming
I shall be glad  of having  contributed in the
least  to the  investigation of the  subject by
stating these particulars.
   J----B----, a young man of about seven-
teen years of age, from the northern part of
this state, spent the winter of 1813-1&, as
a student, at Nine Partners' boarding school,
where I then resided.  I knew  nothing  of
him before, but had an opportunity of being
particularly acquainted with him while there,
He was a lad of sober habits and respectful
manners.   After  he had resided  there some
time,  he began to  talk in his sleep.  If ques-
tions  were  asked him  he  answered them.
The novelty of the circumstance, the  oddity
and wit of his answers, induced his fellows
to ask a variety  of questions,  and the habit
increased  upon  hiin, till, from  talking,  he
began to get up and run about.  It was then
found necessary  to remove him  to another
room.  He then  still continued in  the habit
of  talking when  spoken  to, and sometimes 
176
 getting up.  He could generally be persuaded
 to retire again, but not easily jt,n cd.  If no
 one spoke to him, or  disturbed him, he  Ire-
 quently, perhaps I may say  generally, slept
 quietly through the night.  The habit, how-
 ever, gradually increased upon him during
 his stay there.  He often  fell into  a sinie of
 drowsiness  and  somnolence, which  threw
 him  into  this  unconscious condition before
 bed-time,  and made it troublesome to get him
 to retire.  Commands had no  weight with
 him then, if they  did not  suit his own  incli-
 nation,  which Was  altogether capricious,
 though he was remarkable for the readiness
 with  which he complied with every requisi-
 tion in his waking hours.   He several  times
 ran out doors in the cold,  but this had no ef-
fect to wake him.   One morning, he went to
meeting,  became  sleepy,  and fell  into this
 state, which he first  manifested by pulling
 bis handkerchief through a button-hole of his
 coat,  &c.   He rose  with  the meeting,  came
 out, and walked  home.   The distance was
 but a few rods.   He went to dinner, as he
 had  been accustomed, but with enough of
 singularity in his  motions, look, and manner
 to discover  his situation  to  one acquainted 
177
with him.  After eating his dinner, he reti-
red to the school room, it being a week day,
and in school wrought two or three questions
in arithmetic,  which he took  from  a book;
then, rubbing his eyes  and forehead, waked
up.  He  came to me; I asked him  if he
knew where he had been, and what had pas-
sed.  He said he would tell me, but he did
not wish the boys should know it:—that he
felt a  singular  sensation in  his eyes  and
forehead, and, rubbingthem, waked upas from
sleep, and found himself there in school. The
last thing he remembered was being in meet-
ing: that he had no recollection of any thing
that had happened  since, till  he found him-
self at his seat with some calculations  on his
slate. As to dinner, he said he had not had any.
   This  was not a  periodical affection ; he
fell into it on falling asleep in  any situation,
and seldom, if ever, recovered  his waking
senses but when he awoke  from his natural
sleep.    We frequently  endeavoured, by  a
variety  of means, to awake  him,  but with
no other effect than to confirm  him in the ex-
ercise  of the  powers which in that state he
possessed.  Some of the faculties of his mind
were undoubtedly suspended; probably the 
 will, so far, at least, as it directs the current
 of thought; others he seemed to possess more
 perfectly  than in  a  state  of waking;  his
 memory particularly.  He remembered  the
 most minute and trivial things that  had pas-
 sed within his knowledge,  whether in this
 state or waking, but when awake  he knew
 nothing of what passed during his  somnam-
 bulism.  He  used  to assure us that he had
 no traces of it  in recollection.   His was a
 case that approached nearer,  perhaps, to a
 state of vigilance than any we are acquainted
 with.  He seemed  to possess  as full com-
 mand of himself, as to exerting and directing
 his muscular  powers,  as when awake, and
 sometimes more so; for he had not that cau-
 tion  in exerting  himself which a  state  of
 health,  not very robust, induced him in his
 conscious moments to take.  He could hold
 a pen in his  fingers and write ; this he did
 several times.  He was more clumsy when
 first excited than when he had  been stirring
 some time.  His eyes, while he would lie talk-
 ing were generally  lightly closed ; when  he
was more roused they were open with a wild-
ness and stare,  and  a look that he could by
no means have designedly assumed.  The 
179
circumstances  of this  case were such as  to
place it beyond the suspicion of imposition.
The uniform  decorum of his waking conduct,
the  honesty  of his  character,  the   trouble
it  gave himself and others, the  length of
its  continuance,  his  unwillingness  that  it
should  be  a subject  of remark,  and every
other circumstance attending it, confirm the
belief that it  was no boyish freak, or design-
ed  imposition.   Though no one is better ac-
quainted with these circumstances than my-
self, there  arc  enough that  can attest the
truth of this statement, which I submit  with
respect.
                      GOOU)  BROWN.

  It would have been easy for the editors to have en-
riched and enlarged the present publication with  sever-
al  other  memorable instances of mistaken impressions
upon the organs of sight and hearing, such, for  exam-
ple, as the apparition seen in ancient days by the phi-
losopher Artemidorus ; of that spectre which present-
ed itself to Lord Lytteltoii,  in  modern times,  and of
that other one which, on the 13th of November,  1750,
was seen walking the high street of Oxford, at  noon-
day.  But it was judged suflicieat merely  to refer to
them, in the Epistles  of Pliny the younger; in the
Port Folio for 1S09. p. 117, and to the London New
Universal Magazine for September, 181-1.
                      P 
180
Exercises of Miss Baker, performed during
   her unconscious state, at the City of New-
   York, between the 5th and 10th  of Febru-
   ary, 1815.

   They are specimens of her utterance without  any
premeditation whatever.  Something  of a similar na-
ture flows from her lips every evening during the year.
The present discourses are not selected as more excel-
lent or extraordinary than the rest.  They are merely
such as were pronounced on  the several  nights when
the stenographers attended.   These persons were well
versed in  the art of writing shorthand,  and are profi-
cients  in  theology.  They  are,  moreover, possessed
of the  highest integrity; on their reports, therefore,
the highest reliance may be placed.   The curious  will
find in them much information on the subjects upon
which  they  treat; and the  philosopher canaot fail to
class them among the most rare and wonderful perfor-
mances of the human mind.
   It is worthy of  remark, that these discourses were
not confined to a  small number, or a  particular class
of hearers; ministers of the gospel, lovers of literature,
votaries of science, adepts in medicine, and seekers af-
ter truth from all the reputable walks of life, and from
every religious persuasion, have  been present during
her Somnial Paroxysms.   The facts have been attested
by so many, and such respectable witnesses, that no-
body pretends to controvert them.
                                     EDITORS^ 
181
Miss  Rachel Baker, at D. S, Lyon's, Gth
            February,  1815.

                PRAYER.

  Holy God, I have come before thee again,
and will attempt to bow myself before the
Most High.  O  God, what shall I say, for
thou art  from eternity :  thou  only  knowest
all things, and I am a poor worm that would
attempt to come into thy awful presence.   O
God, be not angry with me ;  I look to thee,
and thou art a God of purity,  and there is no
sinfulness  with  thee ; for thou  art a holy
God, and  sinners cannot stand  in thy pre-
sence.  But I am a poor worm of the  dust;
lam vile; be not, then, O God, be not an-
gry with me when I come in'thy presence.
Look not on me, but look on him  in whom
thou art well pleased.   O may I "have more
faith, and may  I not be  ashamed  of thee.
Forsake me not, O God, for I  am a poor
 creature,  and undone ;  except thou art with
me, I am undone, and am a poor worm  of
the dust.   I pray thee,  therefore, to  deal
with me  graciously.  May I be reconciled
to  what  thou art doing with me, and may.I 
l&e
be stili, and know that thou art God.   May
I have thy  presence with me,  and may I
know that thou art with me.  When I come
into thy presence may I remember Zion, and
may she travail  and bring forth children to
thy glory.   Be thou in the midst of her, 0
God ; and be thou round about her as a wall
of defence ;  may nothing  be known but  the
high praises of our Lord.  Have pity on them
that have no pity for themselves; awaken
them to a sense of their danger;  give them a
heart of flesh, and take  away  their stony
heart,  that  they may  turn  to  thee.   And,
finally,  O God, when I come into thy pre-
sence I desire to be humbled before thee.   0
may thy will be done, even as it  is done in
heaven; and may thy kingdom come, &c. &c,

                ADDRESS.

   0, ye children of men, I have  come into
the presence of you to warm you,  and speak
to you concerning the things of Jesus Christ,
and of his holy  kingdom :  not of the  things
of this present  world, but of the  things of
eternal life.  Ye that  are travelling to this
   *renly Jerusalem, ye  have  cause to  re- 
                   183

joice ;  for you are travelling to a better coun-
try ; you are my brethren and  sisters in the
Lord;  and truly, without  the privilege  of
my Lord,  I  should not  take the liberty to
call you brethren and sisters,   Trust not in
any other Saviour but in him  who hath laid
down his life for his sheep ; and in like man-
ner he took it up. again; for he  had power
to  lay down his life, and he had power to
take it again; and his children shall be like
him;  they shall  be raised again, and  shall
be with him where he is.   I  beseech you to
be confident in him who is to save you ;  look
to him and be watchful; watch and pray con-
 tinually,  lest ye enter  into  temptation; for
the kingdom of heaven  is like ten  virgins,
five of them were wise, but five were foolish;
the wise virgins were very careful to have oil
in their vessels, but the foolish had no oil,
and their lamps went out; and so it will be
with us if we do not watch and be  diligent.
 I, even I,  call on you to know if you  have
 oil in  your vessels, with your lamps.   My
 friends,  I will—(Here she was asked if she
knew there were some  ministers of the gos-
pel present.)—W hat do you want my friend ?
 My friends, 1 was so  much taken up that I 
184
 did not perceive that there were ministers of
 the gospel present.  I will call on them, and
 will also call on Him,  that the Lord will not
 forsake them.  He will not show them any
 thing but what is agreeable to  his holy will.
 Be ye, then,  my  friends, servants indeed,
 cleansing your hands from all  impurity, and
 guide the flock by the side of the still waters.
 May you,  who  are honoured with the high
 trust of being the ambassadors of Christ, be
 instructed with his instruction,  which no man
 can teach you.   May he who taught as never
 man taught, instruct you; withold nothing
 of what you have received, whether sinners
 Will hear, or whether they will forbear; feed
 the tender lambs of the flock with the sincere
milk of the  word ; and when you meet with
affliction be not discouraged; for, while we
live in  the flesh  Ave  are given to sin,  as the
sparks fly upward, and as the waters that run
flownward.  The Lord chasteneth them that
he loveth.   Consider, you that are  parents,
you that have  children, chastise them ; much
more shall  God   chastise you; and,  my
friends, when you are chastened may you be
submissive.   Consider,  I beseech you, are
you like the apostles of old ? they being  so 
185
 zealous, that they would lay down their lives;
 and we know that many of the apostles were
 stoned  to death because they would preach
 Jesus Christ,  and were bound with fetters of
 iron.
   Q. Rachel!
   A. What is it that you say, my friend ?
   Q. Were you at church to-day?
   A. I know I was in the house of the Lord,
 and  heard  the ambassadors of the  Lord.
 How shall I render thanks  unto the Lord
 that he  hath given me  this privilege  to  set
 under the sweet droppings of the sanctuary ?
 There I have heard the word of eternal life.
 I hope that  the Lord will reward them seven
 fold. I will  not give thanks to the children of
 men, but to  my Father; for unto him be ren-
 dered all the glory for ever and ever.  Amen,
 Truly it is a privilege to set under the drop-
 pings of the sanctuary.   I, even I, inquire
 why  it is not with me as  with the heathen ;
 they are bowing down to dumb idolators,
 and set  in d.irknes and the shadow of death.
 The shadow of darkness is their lot;  but I,
 even I, have been taught the way of the truth
 and  the light; that  he is  the way,  and the
truth, and the light.  0  my friends, trust
 in him---- 
18G
  Q.  Rachel, by what authority do you un*
dertake to preach the gospel ?
  A.  My dear friends ;  my dear friends, I
do not preach.  1 do not presume to preach ;
but the Lord hath given me a lesson to read
to the children  of men.   Truly it  causeth
the children  of  men to say, great and mar-
velous are thy works, Lord God Almighty !
I, in  some  sense, preach unto you ; and in
another sense, I  do not.   I do say that there
is no other way to be  saved except  through
the blood of Jesus  Christ, the Lord;  but
what  the Lord giveth me, I declare to  the
children of men.
  Q.  Rachel, do you suppose you have  re-
ceived any supernatural revelation of divine
truth ?
  A.  No  other  revelation  is given to men
but the bible.  John truly  finished, and
there is no other revelation than the  revela-
tion the scriptures contain,  and which is ful-
ly therein given.
  Q.  Rachel, the ,apostle says, ((I suffer
not a  woman to  teach."  Why, then,  do
you speak in public?
  A.  The apostle says, that a woman must
Hot be a public teacher.   I only exhort each 
187
gf you to be steadfast in the faith : shall I,
therefore, presume to be  a  teacher?   If I
could do my own will,  I would rather not
speak  to you !   I only  speak encouraging
things, only the things of Jesus Christ. Shall
a woman be silent because she is a woman,
and not improve her gifts ?  I perfectly agree
with  the  apostle, that it is  not proper that
she should stand up in the church ; and I un-
dertake not to speak.
   Q.  Rachel?
   A.  What do you say, my friend ?
   Q.  I)o you know where you are ?
   A.  I am in my own father's house, and
there are many people that have come to see
me.   I exhort people to take heed to what
they do.
   Q.   Ho you not know that you are in the
city of New-York ?
   A.  Am I in this great city? was I, there-
fore, lost ?  am I  mistaken ? if I am, I am
truly astonished !  Am I in this great city ?
it will also be burnt up as well as the rest  of
the world.  Truly they will  be taken up
and appear before the power  of God : and if
I have been so much mistaken, I---- 
188
  Q. What was the name of the minister you
heard this morning?
  A. I heard a minister of the living G od; did
I not ?  He spoke the truth as it is in Jesus.
  Q. What was his name ?
  A. My friends,  his name was Doctor Ma-
son.   I think this was his name ;  I had lost
myself, and I did not know.   I now recollect
that I am in this great city, and  now I will
speak to them that  have come up to hear me.
  Q. What Was the  name  of  the minister
whom you heard preach in the afternoon ?
  A. I  do not  recollect his  name ;  but I
knowr that he  was an ambassador of the living
God,  and that he spoke the truths  of GotPs
word;  and I  trust that the Lord will be  his
God, *and instruct him ; and may all of you
be so happy as to trust in the living God, and
be confident  in  the  Lord,  and be ye  like
Mount Zion, which cannot be  moved.  I
warn you,  0 sinners, to flee from the wrath
to come ! I wish you may be so happy as to
choose the good way ; for the spirit and the
bride say, come, come buy wine and milk,
without money and without  price.   May you
be so wise as to work while  it is called to-
 day ; for the night cometh when it shall be 
189
said, ye that are righteous be righteous still:
ve that are filthy be filthy still:. but blessed
is the man that shall choose to serve the Lord
before  the  night of death cometh,  when no
man can work ; knowing that it is God  that
worketh in us, both to will and to do, of his
good pleasure.  May you  believe on  him
who is the only  Saviour ; may you trust in
him who  is   the only  Saviour; for where
your treasure is there will your heart be also.
   Q. What are we to understand by work-
ing out our salvation.
   A.  It is not only to do work and outward
performance   of duty, but it  is to have  the
faith of the Lord Jesus Christ.   The text does
not  stop  here; for  "it is God that worketh
in you, both  to will and to do."   For know-
ing that it is  God,  who worketh in us, we
should be on our watch-tower.  Our Saviour
exhorted his disciples not to enter into temp-
tation ; may   we do the work  of  the Lord,
 and have the faith of our Lord Jesus Christ,
 as saith  the  scriptures: this is  the will  of
 God ; we do profess to be the disciples of
 God.   The  carnal  mind is alienated  from
 God,  for the carnal  mind is at enmity  with
 God ; no man can come unto me, except the 
Father draw him :  therefore, you must  be
drawn by the Lord,  or you never can please
God, while in the bonds of iniquity, and the
gall of bitterness ;  we never can please God
while  in this  state;  let us, therefore, work
out our owrn  salvation with  fear  and trem-
bling ; be you faithful servants, that  when
you come to die, you may be able to say, the
day of your death is  better than the day of
your birth : that you may be of that  happy
number who die in the  Lord, for the  Lord
himself hath declared, blessed are the dead,
who die in the Lord  ; even so, for they rest
from their labours,- and their works do follow
them ; worship  God then in spirit and in
truth, for God cannot be mocked.
  Q.  Rachel, what  kind  of cap would you
like best?  (was asked by one of the company.)
  A.  What did you say my friend? I did not
understand what you said.  Host  thou  not
incline to tell me what thou saidst? if not, I
will turn my attention to others, who will pay
attention to what I say ; for  I must give up
my account for what I have said,  and these
must  give in their  account for every  idle
word before the bar of the Lord Jesus Christ.
I hope they will pay attention to what I say ; 
                    191
 I encourage them to be strong in the  Lord,
 putting their  trust  in  him who will defend
 and save  them that put their trust in him.
 May sinners then put their trust in him, or
 it will be  worse for you, than for Sodom and
 Gomorrha, for you set under your own vine
 and fig-tree,  enjoying most precious opportu-
 nities, and there is none to make you afraid ;
 there is none to take from you the gospel of
 Jesus  Christ;  for it is offered to you freely :
 " Come, buy wine and milk, without money
 and without price ;" yea, " Come, and take
 of the  water of life  freely."   If I could per-
 suade  you to  be christians, I would freely
 spend  this poor body of mine ; for I perceive
 that your  souls are precious.  Finally, it is
 delightful to  see children serving God ;  for,
 if the youth of our  land do not serve God,
 what will be the hope of our  land? May
 you, therefore, be so wise as to lay up trea-
 sure for yourselves in heaven; for where
 your treasure is,  there will your heart be al-
 so.  Look, then, to the Lord  Jesus, and
 give him your affection, for Jesus is a friend
that sticketh closer than a brother ; Jesus is
a friend that is nearer than any other friend
can possibly be : as every other tie must be
                    Q 
                   192
broken asunder ; husbands and w ives must
shake parting hands ;  aud we see the same
things taking place ; we  see  husbands and
wives parting; death calls,  and  they must
go ; but it is impossible to separate from the
love of Jesus Christ.   Parents and children
are separated from each other;  we all must
die.  And,  except we have  the  religion of
Jesus Christ, we are of all men most misera-
ble, for we are bound  to the indignation and
wrath of God, and it will be poured out with-
out measure ; and  I,  even I, must, without
this religion, lie down in this lake of fire, for
ever and ever :  this must be the lot  of all;
for we  must die, and  without we have the
blood of Jesus Christ, we must live  under
the wrath of God for ever.  The last enemy
is  death ; where will  we go to avoid this
death ? if we go into the sea, death is there ;
the fishes die ; if we should go into the wil-
derness,  the beasts die ;  where shall we  go
to hide ourselves ? to hide  from this grim
monster, death?  we can go  to  none  but
Jesus Christ, for he has taken away the sting
of death, 
193
    Tho' 1 walk through the gloomy Vale,
      Where death and alljts terrors are,
    jMy heart and hope shall never fail,
      For God my Shepherd's with me there.

  It is, therefore, of the greatest importance;
we  must say the  Lord is  our Shepherd ; we
must be  able to  say,  the  Lord is my Shep-
herd ; he will  lead me through the valley of
the shadow of death,  in spite of all  my foes.

    The Lord my Shepherd is,
      I shall be well supplied ;
    Since lie is mine, and I am his,
      What can I want beside 1

    He leads me to the place,
      Where heavenly pasture grows ;
    Where living waters gently pass,
      And full salvation flows.

    If e'er [ go astray,
     He doth my soul reclaim,
    And guides me, in his own right way,
     For his most holy name.

    While he affords his aid
     I cannot yield to fear;
    Though I should walk through death's dark shade,
     My Shepherd's with me  there. 
194
    In sight of all my foes
      Thou dost my table spread ;
    My cup with blessings overflows,
      And joy exalts my head.
    The bounties of thy love
      Shall crown my following days ;
    Nor from thy house will I remove,
      Nor cease to speak thy praise.

Goodness and mercy follow me all the  days
of my life, and my cup overflows ; nor from
thy house will J go ; may this be  my happy
lot, to  have Jesus for my friend and  shep-
herd, so that  I may dwell with him in ever-
lasting glory.   Wait while I pray, to my Fa-
ther; I knoAV  I cannot pray to my Father as
I ought, but I hope he will put words into
my mouth.  Now let us bow before  our God
in humble prayer.

                  PRAYER.

   Holy Father, thou that inhabitest eternity,
 thou that art  a being of  perfect  holiness,  I
 will bow myself before thee, thou most high,
 for I will not come into thy presence without
 the reconciling blood of Jesus Christ: Be not
 angry with me, 0 Lord God; I  would en 
                   195

treat of thee, that thou wouldst  bless Zion,
till she shall cover the whole earth.   O may
not Zion hang her harp on the willows, and
set solitary as a widow ; but may she be led
beside the still waters.  I will pray for thy
ambassadors.  O wilt thou teach them with
thy knowledge,  and with thy understanding
bless them that go  into the savage  lands;
may they be glad to hear of the Babe of Beth-
lehem.   O give the uttermost  parts  of the
earth for his possession.  Bless the ministers
who are in thy presence, O Lord ; may they
be  zealous to set good examples before  thy
people ;  may they feed the sheep with good
meat, and may  them  that are grown  up of
the flock, be strengthened and  established;
may thy ministering servants be  kept in the
valley of humiliation; I leave them in thy
hands, hoping that thou, O God,  will do ex-
ceedingly more and better,  for them than I
can  ask  or think.  Wilt thou bless the  na-
tions ;  thy judgments are,  indeed, abroad in
the  earth, notwithstanding  thou,  O  Lord,
art good.   O may  that time come,  when a
nation shall be  born  in a day ; and  may
Emmauuel come down  and bless the nations
of the earth, when Satan's kingdom shall be 
196
cast down into  utter darkness,  and a seal
shall be set on him, that he shall go no more
out to destroy.  Lord, bless our rulers ; give
them the wisdom that is from above, which
is. without hypocrisy, and  which  is  profit-
able to direct.   Bless my parents, O gracious
Lord,  enable them to walk as Zechariah and
Elizabeth, together, in thy fear, in all  thy
Ways and ordinances, blameless ; I will not
cease to pray for them.  And bless my bro-
thers and  sisters  ; bless them  and all my
friends; bring them from the power of sin
and Satan, unto the living God.   Comfort
the mourners in  Zion; instruct the  inquirers
to  come to thee.   I confess with horror
and shame, that I have known thy  will, but
have not done  it.   Have mercy on  me,  0
God, and  look upon me in and through Jesus
Christ, and grant   that I may be with thee,
&c. &e.  These unmerited favours I ask  in
the name of Christ Jesus, and all the glory
shall be given to Father,  and  Son,  and Holy
Spirit, now, and for ever.  Amen. 
'197
Miss Baker, February Sth, 1815, Tuesday
                 evening.

                 prayer.

  O thou  that sittest  on a throne of light,
and  art surrounded  with glory; thou holy
one who inhabitest eternity, I come into t'.iy
presence to implore  that thou wouldst look
on Jesus, thy dear son, and, for his sake, for-
give me my sins; and in tender mercy  be
pleased to  lead me and guide me.  O keep
me  in the  valley of humiliation;  for,  if left
to myself, I  should  do things that  would
bring disgrace on thy cause.   O guard me
against Satan's temptations, for I am  weak :
I am but a child : be  thou pleased to keep
me.   O Lord be pleased  to  remember Zion,
and for thy elect's sake, wilt thou appear, to
support and bless thy own  children?  May
Zion, indeed, travail and bring forth  : may
she  fill the whole earth! Aud  bless,  Lord,
thy chosen people; for great iniquity aboun-
ded! in the earth ; and because thereof, the
love  of many waxeth cold.
   Return!  O God of love, return!
      Earth  is a tiresome place: 
198 "
   How long shall we, thy children, mouru,
     Our absence from thy face ?
   Letheav'n succeed our painful years.
     Let sin and sorrow cease,
   And in proportion to our tears,
     So make our joys increase.
   Thy wonders to thy servants show;
     Make thy own work complete;
   Then shall our souls thy glory know,
     And own thy love is great.

  May the world be  made sensible that the
Lord  God omnipotent reigneth; and  I be-
seech thee that the glorious day may speedily
come,  when  the nations  shall learn righte-
ousness, and war shall be heard  no  more;
when  men shall cease  to shed  blood, and
thy dear children shall dwell together in love;
and  there shall be  no separating wall  to di-
vide them from one another; but they  shall
nnite in showing forth thy praises.

                  address.

   Now O ye that are bound to an everlasting
 eternity!  and who yet  dwell on the Lord's
 footstool, I  will address  myself  to  you, 
199
 Although I  am  unworthy  to speak,  being
 but a  weak  clY. 1  in  myself,  yet, by  the
 Lord's grace an.I strength,  I will endeavour
 to warn you.   O friends ! think it not strange
 that I  should speak unto  you.   I beseech
 you that you would exhort one another while
 it is called to-day ;  and so much the more as
 ye  see  the end approaching, when he will
 come  to  take his we.uy  bride home : then
 he will take you to himself,  and he will give
you a seat in  his kingdom and glory.

    There is a land of pure delight,.
      Where saints immortal reign ;
    Infinite day excludes the night,
      And pleasures banish pain.

    There everlasting spring abides,
      And never withering flow'rs :
    Death, like a narrow sea,  divides
     This heavenly land from ours.

    Sweet fields, beyond the swelling floodk
     Stand dress'd in living green ;
    So, to the Jews, old Canaan stood,
     While Jordan roll'd between.

   Bat tim'rous mortals start,  and shrink
     To orosp the narrow sea ;
   And linger,  shiv'ring, on the brink,
     And fear to launch away, 
goo
    0 ! could we make our doubts remove;
      Those gloomy doubts that rise ;
    And see the Canaan that Ave love,
      Withunbeclouded eyes !
    Could we but climb where Moses stood,
      And view the landscape o'er,
    Nor Jordan's streams, nor death's cold  flood,
      Should fright us from the shore.

  Be encouraged,  then, 0 friends !  yea, be
very  confident, knowing that if you are on
the foundation, not all the fiery gates of hell
shall be  able to prevail against you ; but that
you shall be like to Mount Zion, which can-
not be moved.   And  blessed, also,  is that
woman that  trusteth in the Lord:  she  shall
find herself in safety,  and shall be made glad
in the rock of her salvation.  My friends, I
would not promise you happiness  here, for
you have a continual  warfare, truly, in the
flesh :  you shall have tribulation ; but in the
Lord Jesus, who shall have everlasting joy
and happiness; and where  is the soul that
hath no  trial ?  Truly,  my friends,  if you
are tried, you  may know that you  are the
children of the living God : truly, your soul
is more  precious than  gold tried in the fur-
nace,  and what  shall be able to separate you 
201
from the love of God ?   Methinks there will
be nothing under heaven able lo separate you
from the  love of  Christ.   I tell you  now,
neither,  death,  nor life,  nor angels, nor
principalities,  nor powers, nor  things pre-
sent, nor  things to come,  nor  height, nor
depth,  nor any thing whatever, shall be able
to separate you from this  love : for, O my
friends ! we know that our redeemer liveth ;
because  he visiteth us  from on high.  We
have sweet communion  with our   blessed
Lord.   He  sends  down his spirit  to  com-
mune, with  his true children.  Now be not
you  discouraged,  for  the  Lord is   able  to
keep you.   Let your daily walk and  con-
versation  be in  heaven ;  and let the world
know that your treasure is in heaven; that
you are bound for a land that floweth  with
milk and  honey.   You have a better coun-
try ; a country where  the  sheep of  the pas-
ture can feed,  and drink of the  river of the
water of life, and eat of the hidden  manna.
It is a land of pure delight, where  nothing
that is, unclean  can dwell:  nothing that
worketh abomination, or that loveth or  mak-
eth a lie- 
202
    There shall I bathe my weary soul
      In sl-j>s ofheav'uly res';
    And not a wave of trouble roll
      Across my peaceful breast.

   Angels  who inhabit  this country, cease
not to sing praises to him that sitteth on  the
throne  of glory ; and they cast down their
crowns at his feet, and  cry, " Holy, holy,
holy. Lord God Almigb'y !" And thesehap-
py spirits  are giad to see  those who come
to join  that company  of light; but our car-
nal eyes  co:i-d not behold the  brightness of
their glory.  There are the apostles and pro-
phets ;  there the patriarchs dwell;  there, in
the robes that they received when they went
there ; their robes have not grown old ; they
are not  tired with their song of praise ; their
robes  have  not become dirty, neither moth-
eaten, neither are they tired of praising their
God.  Though they have been there ten thou-
sand yen's, they will not be  weary from ev-
erlasting to everlasting ;  no,  they will not be
wean-.   Now, my friends, let  us strive to
enter  into this heavenly place,  through the
narrow  way; for  many are going  in  the
broad way, down to death !  Let  us rather
therefore, strive, that we may enter in at the 
203
narrow gate  that leadeth into life; for our
Saviour hath told us, " Broad is the way and
wide is the gate that leadeth to destruction,
and  many  there be that go ai thereat; but
strait is the gate and narrow is  the way that
leadeth to life, and few there be that find it."
Now,  my  friends, I  say these things unto
you, although I am unworthy, to  open my
mouth.  I am the least of all ;  for I am not
worthy, for I did not walk worthy ;  but if I
can but have a  seat at his footstool,  I will
bless and magnify his name for ever.   Final-
ly, friends, pray for ine, that 1 may be kept
by his  almighty power,  and  be  enabled to go
up through this world, leaning  on my belov-
ed :  pray for me, that I may be resigned  to
whatever shall appear to be his  blessed will,
and may not murmur at any  of his ways, but
may bow beneath his mighty hand.   [Here
Mr.  Rees, the missionary, asked her, " Ra-
chel, what do  yon  think  of  Jesus ?"]   I
have been telling  you.  O my friends !  I
have been  telling you, that he is a being so
bright, that I cannot describe his brightness :
our eyes cannot bear his brightnes  : there  is
no comparison  with  any other:  he is  so
bright that our carnal <\ves cannot behold him. 
£04
0 what can I compare him to ?  [Mr.  Reea
asked, " How long have you known Jesus?"]
It is now nearly three years since 1 have lov-
ed my Jesus, and I have reason to bless him
that he did not cut me off in my sins ;  truly I
love him :  he is the first among ten thousand :
he is fairer than the sons of men : he  is alto-
gether lovely :  he is the rose of Sharon, and
the lily of the valley.  I sat down under his
shadow with great delight, and his fruit was
sweet to my taste.

    The wondering world inquires to know,
    How I should love my Jesus so :
    " What! are  his charms say they, above
    The object of a mortal love ?"
    Yes; my beloved to my sight
    Shows a sweet mixture, red and white $
    All human beauties—all divine—
    In my beloved meet and shine.
    White is his soul, from blemish free 5
    Red, with the blood he shed for me!
    The fairest of ten thousand fairs;
    A sun amongst ten thousand stars !

    His head the finest gold excels;
    There wisdom in perfection dwells',
    And gloiy, bke a crown, adorns
    Those temples once beset with thorns, 
205
     Compassions in his heart are found
     Hard by the signals of his wound;
     His sacred side no more shall bear
     The cruel scourge, the piercing spear.

     His hands are fairer to behold
     Than diamonds set in rings of gold ;
     Those heavenly hands that on the tree
     Were nail'a, and torn, aud bled forme !

     Though once he bow'd his feeble knees,
     Loaded with sins and  agonies;
     Now on the throne of his  command,
     His legs like marble pillars stand.

     His eyes are majesty and love,
     The eagle, tempered with the dove ;
     No more shall trickling sorrows roll,
     Through those dear windows of his soul!

     His mouth, that poured out  long complaints,
     Now smiles,  and  cheers its fainting saints:
     His countenance more graceful is
     Than Lebanon, with all its trees.

     All over glorious is my Lord ;
     Must be belov'd,  and  yet ador'd :
     His worth if all the nations knew,
     Sure the whole earth would love him too !

   O,  my  friends ! I wish that my  beloved
may be your beloved,  and then we shall en-
joy  his company in the heavens above.  Well 
206
 did Isaiah speak of him, as he did when he
said,  "Who is this that cometh from Edom,
with died garments from Bozra ; glorious in
his apparel, travelling in the greatness of his
strength? Behold, I  have trodden the wine-
press alone; for the day of vengeance is in
my heart, and  the year  of my redeemed is
'come."   How can I tell  you half about my
Jesus ? I cannot tell you half: the ambassa-
dors cannot tell you half: they  cannot duly
describe  the happiness that is in my Father's
house; and when you come there,  you will
say that the half has not been told you.
   O,  friends!  strive  you hard  to  get into
this rich country, where pleasures will be
your  lot, and  the  smiles of his reconciled
countenance will be your enjoyment:  when
he will say, " These are they that I have ran-
somed from the world."
   [Here  Mr-   Rees asked, Does Christ re-
ceive all that come unto  him ?]
   Jesus truly  receives all that come to him;
but he himself said, when on the earth, that
the Father must  first draw them; for our
hearts are naturally in rebellion against the
Lord, and  we must first be drawn by God,
and must have our  hearts influenced  and 
207
turned by him, before we  can love him  and
run after him.   It is, then, of the greatest im-
portance that  the ambassadors  should  pro-
claim this saviour to dying  men, that, haply,
the Lord would make them instrumental in
winning sinners : that they might be turned
to God, and flee from the wrath to come.
   Sinners !  sinners ! I, even I, would speak
unto you, and warn you, while it is called to-
day,  to embrace the free offers of mercy.  I
recommend  not silver and  gold unto  you;
but I will, by  the assistance of God, tell
you with candour your true condition.   Na-
turally, you are in a state of enmity to God,
bound down to the dark regions of endless
wo:  you are  naturally in the bonds of ini-
quity, and the very gaul of bitterness. I,  even
I, was in this state once.  I rolled sin under
my tongue as a sweet morsel, and could make
the vanities of the world my  pursuit; but
now T perceive that all these are lighter than
a sfraw, and altogether vanity.  I, therefore,
beseech you to cry mightily to  the Lord,  that,
haply,  the Lord would give you repentance,
and a broken heart and a contrite spirit; for
the Lord hath said, that a broken and a con-
trite spirit he will in no wise despise.
                   R3 
208
  Now, ye sinners ! come and trust in him;
for he is mighty, and able to save unto the
uttermost, all that come unto him-   Though
you be sinners, and though your sins be more
in number than the hairs of your head, or
than the sand on the sea shore ; though they
be red like crimson, or of a scarlet die, yet
come to  Jesus, and they shall be made as
wool: yea,  you shall  be washed, and made
whiter than the snow,
  Jesus Christ came down from heaven, that
he might save sinners, even  the  chief; of
whom :  I may say as the  apostle  spoke of
himself: of whom I am the chief.   Now, if
you are  sinners, you may come and have life ;
but  wo unto them that deceive themselves,
and  who see no need of a Saviour !  Wo
unto them that try to  merit their own salva-
tion by any thing they  can do for themselves !
Wo be unto  them that seek  out  any Other
salvation than that of Jesus Christ of Naza-
reth ! for every man's work shall perish ; for
he is the way :  the only way ; the truth and
the life, and there is not any other way.  And
if any man will come unto him, he may have
eternal life ; for he not  only laid down his
life,  but he took it again,  and hath ascended 
§09
into the heavens,  up into his gloryj that his
sheep may dwell with him for ever and ever ;
and he is the door by which you may come
into the sheep fold, and go in  and out, and
find pasture.
   AnoL now, what more can I say ?   I have
plainly  and  candidly told you, that you are
the children of Satan, and not the children of
the living God.  May you, therefore, make
your peace with him, before the night cometh
wherein no man can work.  The Lord hear-
\jth the cries of a babe, as well as of men and
women  that  have  grown up in the Lord.   I
will,  therefore, come and beseech  him that
he would teach me, even me, what I should
say, that I may be enabled to pray aright, and
that I may not pray unto him amiss.

                 PRAYER.

   Holy Father ! thou that inhabitest eter-
nity,  and thy seat is in the heavens,  bow
thine  ear to my voice, when I call  upon thy
name.  Thou that  art a God of truth, and
with whom  there is no variableness, neither
shadow of  turning—0 ! thou  that hearest
when sinners cry unto thee ! blushing of face, 
310
 and confusion of heart,  belons;eth to me
 when I come into thy presence.   O !  renew
 my life,  that I may walk more  to thy glory,
 and may be enabled more to show forth thy
 worthy praise.  The Lord keep me under
 the shadow of his wing, while  I am in this
 world, that I may be safe.  The LlbrW bless
 his people who dwell on this earth : bow thy
 gentle heavens and come down, and bless thy
 people.  May they work  out their salvation
 with fear and  trembling,  knowing  that it is
 God who worketh in them both to will and*
 to do, of his good pleasure.  Bless Zion, 0
 Lord! may she  travail and bring forth chil-
 dren, and  become the joy of many genera-
 tions. May her praise fill the earth; yea, let
 Zion prosper, and extend from the rivers unto
 the ends of the earth.  And bless thy ambas-
sadors ; may they proclaim  a Saviour to dying
men.  Make them the happy instruments of
winning  many souls to Christ.  May they
proclaim thy truth in its purity, and shun not
to declare the  whole counsel of God.   May
thy name be great among the  heathen ; and,
0 Lord!  hasten to usher  in the happy time
when the  nations of the   world shall learn
righteousness, and the inhabitants of the earth 
211
 shall learn war no  more.   May thy judg-
 ments be stayed: wilt thou say to the destroy-
 ing sword, return unto thy sheath; and usher
 in the happy day,  when the cry of the father-
 less and the widow shall be no more heard in
 our land.  Bless our rulers: for  thou  hast
 said, that when the  wicked rule,  the  land
 raourncth.   Wilt thou give them the wisdom
 that cometh  down from  above.  And bless,
 Lord, my  parents with the best of heaven's
 blesssings; may they  walk in all the ordi-
 nances of the Lord blameless,  as did Zach-
 ariah and  Elizabeth : I  will not cease  to
 pray for them while  the  Lord giveth me
 breath.   I  would beseech thee to remember
 my brothers and sisters, and may my parents
 and  their children appear before thee in thy
 glory.  Be thou the  widow's God ; the or-
 phan's stay ;  comfort mourners in Zion ; and
 comfort those that are mourning and  are cast
 down for their  sins,  and reveal  unto them
 Jesus as  their Saviour.   May the  voice of
 young converts  be heard  throughout  our
 country : may every  house become  a house
of prayer, aud every door the gate of heaven.
And I would beseech thee to remember me,
that when I come to die,  I may be admitted 
213
to dwell with thee in thy heavenly kindom,
to behold  thy glory, to  see  thy  face, and
dwell with thee for ever and ever.  These,
and all unmerited favours, I ask in the pre-
vailing name  of  Jesus ; and all  the glory
shall be given to the Father,  Son, and Ho-
ly Spirit, both now and forever more.  Amen.
Miss Baker, at Dr. Douglas's,  Wednesday,
           %th February, 1815.

                 PRAYER.               \

  0 thou  who inhabitest  eternity, and thy
seat is  in  the  heavens above;  O thou that
didst create the heavens and the earth, and
all   things therein; thou  whose wisdom
founded them at the first, and whose understan-
ding formed them; O thou that didst create
man from the dust,  and he became a living
soul :  thou didst place him in a  garden
where he might enjoy the favour of God, but
he fell  by transgressing thy commandment,
and by  our forefather's fall sin is even now
prevailing  in the world at the present day, 
S13
How shall we come before thee ? we sin ev^
ery day, and I, even I, consider myseif the
chief of sinners, for I am not worthy to bow
myself in thy presence, or of taking thy name
into my polluted lips.   Thou vvilt not accept
of any thing that 1 can do, for thou wilt not
accept any but for thy dearly beloved Son's
sake. Smile on hirn who was with thee before
the foundation of the world,  for I am sensi-
ble tii.it I am vile, therefore make a fresh ap^-
plication of the blood of Christ to my soul,
that I may run in the  way of thy command-
ments.   Bless, O Lord, thy dear people.  I
woud ask the same  blessing for them that I
do for myself; for they need thy pardoning
gi  ee, since  there is no man that liveth and
sinneth not, and  except thou forgive  them
they can never inherit the pure heavens above.
   May Zion appear  fair as the moon,  clear
as the sun, and terrible as an army with ban-
ners ; may she be so highly favoured of the
Lord as to drink of that stream which mak-
eth glad the city of God.
   Have pity on sinners, and open their eyes,
Unit they may  see aud may know that they
stand on slippery places, and  fiery billows
roll below.  0 ! 1 would beseech thee to take 
214
away the hard and stony heart out of their
flesh, and give them a heart  of  flesh; and
may the happy day soon come when all shall
know thee, from the least unto the greatest,
even unto the greatest; when the brightness of
thy kingdom shall come and cover the earth,
as the waters cover the sea, and thine, O Lord,
shall be the glory, for ever and for ever.

                ADDRESS.

  Now ye  children  of men, bound  to ap-
pear before the bar of  God, I have come be-
fore the presence of God ; he heareth my
words,  he knoweth  my thoughts,  and he
knoweth your hearts, and searcheth  all our
hearts.  I  will  call on you  that  know the
Lord, first of all, you that love his name, you
that are his people.   I, even I,  who am a
babe, I, even I, will speak unto you  that
you may say, " great  and marvelous are
thy works, Lord God Almighty  !"  Do not
do as I have done, but serve God.   I have
earnestly  inquired of him why he doth unto
me as  he hath  not to the rest of the world,
hut I desire to acquiesce in his will, and riot
murmur when his- hand lieth heavy upon me. 
                    2iv
 I beseech you, O you iny friends who know
 his name, as bold  witnesses to stand up for
 the Lord Jesus Christ.  Be not discouraged,
 my friends, if you  meet with trials and dis-
 couragements.  When you are ready to des-
 pond, consider  that the  Lord will deliver
 y»u in his own time ; consider the great right
 hand  dealings of God with the children of
 Israel ; he epened the Red Sea to them, that
 they might pass over  on' dry ground, and
 when their enemies attempted to follow them
 they were drowned;  and  so, my friends,
 will it be with us;  our divine  leader will go
 before and open a wry where there is no way,
 and will  subdue  the terrible  enemies 'who
 pursue our souls ; but if we once get into the
 promised  land, thefe will be no more danger,
 for our great enemy, who now goeth about as a
 roaring lion,  seeking whom he may devour,
 will be no more able to assault  us,  but wre.
 shall be secure from  his attempts.  Host thou
 think that thou hast more  affliction than the
 people of God formerly?  Consider how  it
 was with the apostles, what they endured,
 what they suffered forthe testimony of Jesus;
some said, away with these men, they  are
not nt to live :  they were falsely accused and 
216
insulted; these  are the men who  turn  the
world  upside  down.  And  we  read in the
scripture of the three children  in the fiery
furnace,  but  a fourth person appeared, in
form like unto the Son  of  God,  and they
were preserved in the flames  of the furnace,
and came out safe from  the fire,  when  their
accusers were cast into it and consumed. So,
also, wre read of Daniel; be was thrown in-
to the den of lions, and would have been con-
sumed, but no doubt, Daniel lifted up his soul
to  God,  and  the lions'  mouths  were stop-
ped, and they  hurt not the man-of God.  Can
you, therefore, O can you,  therefore, think
the Lord, when you are tried, and when af-
fliction cometh on you, will forsake his dear
children, and  leave  them to the power of
their enemies ? You ought to consider that
these things come from the hand  of your hea-
venly father.  The  apostles and prophets
went under chains and grievous trials, and
 suffered the loss of all things gladly for the
 Lord Jesus, and we  complain.  We  do not
 do as we ought to do oftentimes; we are apt
 to murmur when affliction cometh upon us.  I
 tell you, 0 friends, that affliction cometh not
 out of the ground, nor trials from the dust'; we
 should, therefore, turn and kiss the rod ; we 
                    217
 know that we are  not  worthy to be  called
 sons if we do not bear chastisement  as sons,
 for he chasteneth- every son  and  daughter
 whom he receiveth, and if  we  be  without
 this chastisement,  then  are we bastards, and
 not sons ;  but trust ye in the Lord, for he is
 gracious,  and he is able to deliver you  out
 of all your affliction, aud will put a new song
 into your mouth, even praises to  our- God.
   .Question.   Why do  you address persons
 thus  ?
                                   «
   A. I,  even I, do speak unto the oiiildren  •
 of men because it  is the will  of God, .my
 heavenly Father ;  if it  were possible  for me
 to avoid  the dealing of  God I would  do it;
 it is mortifying to my natural pride. When I
 pray unto my Father, truly, many  a time a
 tear  rolleth down my cheek, and I often say,
 my Father why dost thou deal thus with me ?
 think not  that I am about to  deceive you,
 for I  am  not speaking unto you of the  things
 of this world, but of a better world. • I there,-
 fore beseech those that love our Lord,  not to
 trust  in themselves, but rather  trust  in the
living God, knowing that the carnal heart is
not subject to the  law  of God, neither, in-
deed, can  be; that the  natural man receiv- 
    eth not the things of the  spirit of God ; they
    are foolishness unto him, neither can he know
    them, because they are spiritually discerned.
      Question. By what authority do  you pre-
    sume to'address men ?
      A. My dear friend, by what authority do
, .  I speak unto you ?  I do not speak of my au-
    thority, but as the Lord speaketh ; and so
    I told you before, and what, methinks, the
    Lord hath told you before in his word.   Be-
    hold, «saith  God, I  will pour out my spirit
    upon ^all flesh, and your  sons  and  your
    daughters shall prophesy, and your young
    men  shall  see.  visions,  and your  old men
    shall dream dreams, and on  my servants anil
    on  my.handmaids I will  pour out in the last
    days of my  spirit, and they shall prophesy.
    The day  draweth nigh  when he that  shall
    come will come, and will not tarry.  If your
    eyes, my friend's, do not  see this  day before
    they are closed in death,'yet, when  your ho-
    llies shall rest in the grave, then you wrill find
    that I did not tell you vain things  ; and hath
    not the Lord said that he would choose the
    weak things to Confound the things which are
    mighty ? and what the Lord God revealeth
    that I will speak.  I do not desire  to de
3 
                    219
  ceive you, but this is  the truth, that every
  one shall stand before the bar of God.  I ex-
  pect to gjve an account for what I say unto
  you,  and you must give ah account how you
  have heard such a feeble worm as I am ; and
  though  #our boduas  may slumber  in  the
  ground, yet,  it you have had an application
  of the blood of Jesus to'your consciences, an-
  gels ; archangels, shall be your companions,
  they shall receive you, and will welcome you,
  with joy , to their bright abode ; your soflls
  dwell with them till the resurrection, when
  your bodies  will rise  at the last day, and
  your souls and your bodies  will be united
,  together;  and then you will be ever with the
  Lord.   Methinks the  scriptures saith that
  vou shall dwell a thousand years with Christ;
  the wicked  will  remain  till the  thousand
  years ; a seal will be  set upon Satan, that
  he go no more out to disturb  the dear  chil-
  dren of God.   Satan shall be bound  a thou-
  sand years.
    Question.  Do you pretend to -any  revela-
  tion from God ?
    A.  Shall I tell you  that I  have a revela-
  tion from heaven ?  I tell yon nay, I  tell yon
  ra>{.   John said  it*is finished ;  do not think
                   ;  S3 
220
 to say that I am perfect because I speak un-
 to you.  I tell you now, as I told you before,
 I am under the hand of the Lord, and I can-
 not help it.
  Now, my friends, be you satisfied ; but if
 you are not satisfied,  thtire is a  day eoming
 when you will be satisfied ; you will not then
 ask  why the Lord hath chosen to use such a
 poor feeble worm as I am to.declare his truth.
 Let  me,  then, turn  to  the time  that  I was
 speaking  of, when  the  saints should  dwell
 with  Christ  a thousand  years, when his
 kingdom will come.
  Question. Will the Lord, edify,* by his
 speaking, those who do not believe his word?
  A. Truly he will  not edify  except they
hear; but the Lord  will call every man into
judgment; but if I speak  not the truth, be-
lieve me not.  I desire to  speak  nothing bat
the  truth  of God, whether it edify or not I
cannot tell, but you will have to give an ac-
count of What he hath told  you,  and what ye
have heard.
 . Now,  my friends, think not that the Lord
will  edify a carnal minded man ; I  tell you
he will not; I trust  he will edify those who
will  hear.  I, being  a  habe, do speak  to
them a few words. 
                   821
  0 ! ye that have believed upon the Lord
Jesus Christ-! rejoice, for your  redemption
draweth  nigh:  yea,  it is nearer than when
you first  believed on him ; it draweth nigh.
When the ambassadors labour for your good,
hearken  to  them; attend to what  they  tell
you, for they show unto you the way of eter-
nal life..   I  leave you in the hands of the liv-
ing God, and turn my attention to poor  sin-
ners.
  Question.  Do you not violate that com-
mand of the apostle, "Suffer not a woman
to speak  in the .church,"  when you presume
thus to address  sinners in the name of the
Lord ?
  A. My dear friends !  shall I—0, shall I?
then,  hold mv peace? the apostle saith, let
not a woman stand  up in the church as a pub-
lic teacher :  but are  you hard of believing ?
are  you hard of understanding ? I have told
you that  I cannot avoid doing  these things:
my  God knoweth what they mean.  I do not
pretend to teach men ;  but I only tell them
of their danger, and tell them that there is
wo  to them  that are  at ease in Zion.  God
forbid that I should  be  silent: I pretend to
speak nothing but the truth, as  it is in Christ 
                   222
 Jesus my Lord. " Shall a woman hold her
 peace, because she is a woman*?   Methinks
 the apostle meant not so ; but meant that they
 should let their light shine-before men.  Is it
 a mystery  to you my'friends ? let it not be a
 mystery any longer, but rather leave it in the
 hands of the living  God;  he will do what is
 best and right.  Let me, therefore, turn my
 attention to sinners.
  Perhaps there are some in the hearing of
my voice,  who have not yet directed  their
views to the Saviour. . I perceive they stand
on a precipice, in a slippery, place, ready to
fall, "and fiery billows roll below."  O  ! can
you rest any longer in the situation in w7hich
you are, exposed every moment to be cast off
without any mercy!  But turn unto the Lord,
who *will   have mercy>  and  to  our  God,
who   will  abundantly  pardon.  May  you,
therefore, turn, and consider, that it may.be
well for you when time shall  be  no more!
Who  is there among you that can  bear the
idea of lying down in the place of torment
forever and  ever?   And I do testify,-that
except ye be washed in this fountain, which
is open for Judah, and the inhabitants of Je-
rusalem, you cannot enter  into the glory  of 
22$
 God.  But though yoa may think these are
 harthisayings, yet I do testify, that unless you
 be washed in this fountain, you cannot see
 the kingdom of God;  for no unclean thing
 will ever enter there: only-those  that  have
 had an application  of  .the blood of Christ,
 which cleanseth from  all sin.  Come  ye!
 come ye!  and buy wine and wifk, without
 money and without price ; come, and bow
 before the most high God : trust him who is a
 gracious Redeemer, and accept his salvation.
 0, friends ! it will*be well if you trust in him
 who trod the wine-press  alone;  who  died
 without the gates of Jerusalem, for  the sins
 of the world.
  . Oh! love divine, what  hast thou done?
      The Lord of glory died for  me;
    The Father's Co-eternal Son
      Bore all my sins upon the tree.

 Behold,  he is seated on a,throne of mercy,
 making intercession  for sinners.  *Is he  not
 saying,  " 0, Father!   spare  them  a little
 longer, till I dig about  them a little longer ?
 Is he not standing  with outstretched hands,
and saying, •• Come unto me, and learn of
me ; for I am meek,,  and lowly of heart, and 
224
ye shall find rest to your souls :   Take  my
yoke upon you ;  for my* yoke is easy and my
burden is light."  May you,  therefore, re-
pent and be converted*, that your  sins may be
forgiven you';  that your name may  be writ-
ten in the Lamb's book of life, aud have right
to eat of the tree  of  life,  which  standeth in
the midst Of the paradise of God*.
   Truly, it  is my duty to pray to him that
made the heavens and the earth 5 for he will
hear a babe.

    Come sound his praise abroad,
      And hymns of {.lory sing ;
    Jehovah is the sovereign God,
      The universal king.          ,
    He form'd the deeps unknown,
      He gave the seas their bound;
    The Wateiy worlds are all his own,,
      And all the solid ground.
    Come worship at his throne ;
      Come bow before the Lord:
    We are his works, and not our own;
      He form'd us by his word.
    To-day attend his voice,
      Nor dare provoke his rod ;
    Come., like the people of his choice,
      And own your gracious God. 
                   225
    But if your ears refuse
      The language of his grace,
    And hearts grow hard, like stubborn Jews,
     , That unbelieving race 5
    The Lord, in vengeance drest,**
      Will lift his hand and swear,
    li You that despise my promis'd rest,
      " Shall have no portion there."

   I desire that my words "may  be  few, for
he will show  me what I ought to pray  for.
If I take words, he  will not hear; but  he
will show me what I ought to speak 5 he will
instruct me how to call upon.his name.

                "PRAYER.

   Holy Father ! thou that inhabitest eter-
nity,  and can  hear the cry of poor unworthy
worms "of the  dust, when they come  before
thee ! support me, and put under me thy ever-
lasting arms : let them be underneath to sup-
port me, that  I may  not  perish.  Knowing
that thou  hast laid thy hand heavily upon
me, may I lay myself into* thy hands.   Wilt
thou not look on me,  but look on Jesus, and
for his sake forgive  me  my sins.  1  would
desire to pray, not only for myself, but for
* 
                   286
 my brethren.  O! may Zion,be  highly fa-
voured of the Lord, and .may she  travail: *
 may she fill the earth ;. for thou hast said she
 shall travail, and bring forth children,  and a
 nation shall ^ born in  a day.   O Lord ! I
 will pray  for thy ambassadors :  May  they
 cleanse their han^s ; and do thou enable them
 to preach thy word in its purity, and  in its
 simplicity.   May their tongues  become as
 the pen of a ready writer, that they  may be
 able to declare thy truth, and faithfully preach
 Jesus Christ, and him crucified,.
   Remember the  dark places, of the earth.  •
 Get thyself  a great-name among the nations.
May  they forsake their  iwolatry, and  turn
unto thee.   I pray  for' the nations of fhe
world,- notwithstanding that  their iniquities
have reached up unto heaven,  and thou hast
said in thy word,  "shall not my soul be aven-
ged on such  a nation as this?"   Truly, thou
hast caused the sword to pass through our land,
and thou art chastening us still; but, O ! may
thy will be  speedily  done on earth,  and thy
glorious kingdom cbme ; when thy watchmen
shall see eye to eye,  and thy dear children
shall dwell together in love.
   Holy Father!  wilt thou give  to our rulers 
227
the wisdom that cometh  down from above,
which is first pure,  then  peaceable,  gentle,
and easy to be entreated, without partiality
and without hypocrisy. This land, O Lord !
this land mourneth  with heavy lamentation,
because their iniquities have been great: yet,
if it be possible, O ! avert  deserved judg-
ment, and  visit us with thy tender mercies.
   I will not cease  to pray  for my parents.
May  they  live  in  thy favour, and at last
come  down as shocks full ripe.  May my
dear brethren and sisters  be turned to thee ;
and those that have named the%ame of Christ,
may they adorn their profession by a well-
ordered conversation.
   Now, O  Father!  be w ith me while I live :
forsake me  not,  or I shall perish.  When I
am afflicted, may 1 not complain ; and when
thou art done with  me on earth, receive me
to dwell in thy kingdom, forever and for ever.
   These, and all unmerited  favours,  I ask
of thee ; desiring to ascribe all the glory to
the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, both now
and for evermoi-e.   Amen.
T 
228
 Miss Baker, at Dr.  Douglas's, February
          10th,  Thursday evening

                 PRAYER.

   O Thou who inhabitest eternity, and art
 the being that didst create the heavens  and
 the earth, and all things therein;  O thou that
 art a being  that beholdest mc and knowest
 my vileness. O God, my sins are all num-
 bered  before thee; therefore, O God, how
 shall Icomejbefore thee and bow myself be-
 fore the Most lligh, for I am a poor  wretch,
 not worthy to call on the name of the Lord ?
 I cannot come into thy presence in my own
 name, and ask  thee to  forgive me my sins,
 but in the  name of thy dear Son.  I would
 desire that thou wouldst look on thy Son,
 aud for his sake look upon me.  Thou know-
 est that I am tried with sore temptations ; 1,
even I, do earnestly inquire of thee where-
fore thou  dost deal with me thus.   O God,
make me to walk softly all the days of  my
 appointed time,  so  that when my  change
comes I may be  enabled to see thy  face in
peace.  O Father,  give me a thankful heart
for all thy goodness unto me, for  truly thou 
229
hast preserved me from the lowest hell;  thou
hast placed me in a place where I can hear
thy ambassadors, and meet with thy people,
to worship in thy sanctuary.  How shall 1
return thanks unto thee  for all my benefits!
I confess it is out of my power to return thee
suitable thanks for all thy mercies to me ; that
thou  hast granted me  so much greater privi-
leges than the  poor heathen, for they have
not the knowledge  of the true  God;  they
bow to gods  of silver  and gold; they are
dumb  idols,  they have  ears and hear  not;
tongues and speak not; eyes have they and
sec not; they have hands but have no power
to save ; but  thou,  O God,  art a God that
hearest the prayer of  them that eall on thee.
O that the heathen may turn from their idols
and  know a God that is  able to save them
even from the lowest pit.   Wilt thou, O God,
make thyself known  to the  heathen  lands,
and  may  thy will speedily be done here on
earth as it is done in heaven, and thine shall
be the kingdom, the  power, and the  glory,
now and forever.
                ADDRESS.
  Now, O ye, my beloved brethren and sis-
iers, 1 have come into your presence; 1 will 
230
 not cease to speak of those, things  that you
 may be encouraged, and  may not be weary
 of walking in the ways of the Lord.  Truly,
 f am less than the least,  and am not worthy
 to call you brethren, but I will endeavour to
 exhort you, inasmuch as the day approacheth.
 Doth not iniquity  abound, and the  love  of
 many wax  cold?  Many turn  back,  and
 walk no  more with Jesus, as those did in
 the  days of his  flesh.  But,  my  friends, I
 trust it is with you as it was with Peter, and
 that you say  with him, "Whither shall we
 go?  Thou hast the word of eternal life,
 and we believe, and are sure, that thou  art
 Christ,  the Son  of the living God." May
 you rather  follow  the Lamb of God whith-
 ersoever hegoeth.  Truly the  christian life
 is  a life of  continual warfare.   Now  may
 you  be willing  to follow him  through evil
 report and good report,  for  he is  a good
 Shepherd, that will guide his sheep in good
pastures, fresh and green; he will guard
 them, and carry  the lambs in his arms, and
 gently lead those that are with young.  Be-
 hold ! he speaketh words  of consolation and
 words of comfort to them;  he saith  unto
 them, for his Apostle hath said this is a true 
211
saying,  and worthy of all  acceptation, that
Jesus Cl!rlKrcame into the world to save sin-
ners,  even the chief o£ sinners.   Now, if
you  perceive  that you  are a sinner, Jesus
Christ is able and he is  willing to save you,
and he will do it if you are only willing.   O!
recommend to all your friends to turn to the
Lord, our God, that so he may have many
friends on this earth, that  his kingdom may
come, whose kingdom is an everlasting king-
dom,  and to whose dominion there shall be
no end.   Finally,  O friends, you are sensi-
ble, as well as I, that the hand of the Lord is
heavy on me ; but murmur not,  for Christ
saith  these things must all come to pass to
prepare for his second  coining:  that nation
should  rise  against  nation,  and kingdom
against  kingdom, and there should be great
distress  and perplexity: earthquakes in  di-
vers places, the sea and waves roaring. These
things have taken place, but they  have  not
taken place sufficiently yet for his  coming ;
for great things must first  take place before
this will  arrive ; and now  we. ean sit under**
our own vine, aiuj under  our own fig-tree,
and there is none to make lis  afraid.   Will
persecutions arise ?  Methiiiks that they will
                  T2 
232
before  Jesus comes and makes his appear-
ance ; but blessed  are they that are  found
waiting, they will Ijave a  seat at his right
hand ; they that are washed clean in the blood
of the everlasting  Son of  God.  They are
blessed and happy, says John, in the Revela-
tion, that keep the words of this book, wor-
ship God,  and worship him in spirit,  with a
pure heart;  for they that worship God must
worship him in  spirit and in truth.  Think
not that an outward profession will suffice ;
for  truly,  the words of our Lord confirm
what my words are to you,  Truly, said our
Lord to Nicodemus, except a  man be born
again he cannot see the  kingdom  of God,
Nicodemus  was  blind, and asked, how can
these things be ?   But our  Lord opened his
eyes, and he then  perceived that it was an
important thing to have the  heart changed,
and to be made a new  creature.  Now, sin-
ners, come and say, O Lord, I am a poor,
blind, weak creature.   Come not before the
Lord in your own righteousness, for they are
£lthy rags.
  [Here it was asked by one of the company,
If it were possible for one who had been re-
newed by the spirit of  Christ,  and made a 
233
new creature, ever to fall away, and finally
perish?]
  Methinks there is no one that ever had one
spark  of divine grace, that will  ever fall
away and perish ; for hath notour God power
to keep him?  Hath he not more power than
the devil?  and hath  he not engaged to keep
his people, and to save all that come unto
him ? truly they that have the oil of grace in
their hearts : his spirit will keep his elect, for
he is able to keep them.
  0 ! friends, there are some that are foolish
virgins ;  there  are many who make a  false
profession; we ought, therefore, to ask our-
selves if we are indeed placing our  confi-
dence in him who is the only rock of safety,
and whether we do indeed believe in him, for
I am  sure that they that are  founded on
Christ Jesus can never be  moved ; for they
are like mount  Zion, which cannot be mo-
ved :

    Should storms of thund'ring veugeance roll,
    And shake the globe from pole to pole,
    No flaming bolt shall daunt my face,
    For Jesus is my hiding place. 
as*
    A few more rolling suns, at most,
    Will land me safe on Canaan's coast.
    Where I shall sing the song of grace.
    And see my glorious hiding place.

The arm of Jesus is suffiicient to save them
from  the very jaws  of hell!  Will not our
God own and bless  those who have had an
application of the blood of Christ ?  Our Fa-
ther will say  these are worthy to  be received
into his house, and they will sit  down with
Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, in the kingdom
of God.  Are we all christians ? We profess
to be ;—it is  no  small matter to  have  the
grace of God, and to be indeed a christian!
   I speak these things*mto you, my friends,
desiring that  you may search  diligently, if
you  have tYxe oil  of love in your hearts ; for
he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and
God in  him,  for  God  is  love.   And  if we
have this love, we  shall  pray for all men,
even for our enemies ;  although they  perse-
cute us, we can pray for them ; even as Je-
sus prayed for his persecutors,  and said, on
the  cross,  " Father,  forgive  them!  they
know not what they do."   And  what love,
then, shall we have to our brethren !   Tru-
ly, it will cause  the world to say, " What 
235
 manner of love is this,  that these people have
 to one another ?"   And what manner of love
 is that which the Father hath bestowed on
 us, that we should be  called the Sons of
 God ? And, truly, my dear friends, if God
 hath so loved us, we ought to love one another.
   Now, think not that those who have the
 true religion shall ever fall away; for if ev-
 er I could say that they  could fall away, I
 should not speak the  truth: I should make
 my maker like a  man.  He  hath power to
 keep his sheep,  and they shall never perish,
 neither shall any be able to pluck them out
 of his  hand.  I trust  that he wjjl  own  and
 bless them  in the heavens above, and never
 cast them off.
   [There are some ministers present; what
 have you to say to them ?]
   I have nothing to say unto them that may,
 peradventure, be edifying.   But, my friends,
 I  pray you be reconciled to God,  preaching
 the word of God in its purity and simplicity^
 for this secmeth to be your work.  May yon
 cry aloud, and spare not, but show unto the
people their sins.   Feed the tender lambs of
the flock with food which cometh down from
heaven : 0 ! may you not be tempted to feed 
236
 them with vain things,  which shall not pro-
 fit ; but strive to show yourself workmen that
 need not be ashamed,  rightly dividing the
 word of truth.  Finally, I would request an
 interest in your  prayers; for knowing that
 the  prayers  of the righteous will save the
 weak,  and the scripture saith that the fervent
 prayer of a righteous man availeth much, I de-
 sire that you would pray for me.  Finally,
 may you  be kept under the shadow  of the
 wings of the Lord, telling saints to persevere
 in holiness, and  warning sinners,  guarding
 the  tender lambs of the  flock.  I leave you,
 trusting that you will hear the  words of a
 child.   I  speak unto you, but think  it  not
 strange • for, truly, my  God maketh  it  my
 duty to speak in  plainness in Christ  Jesus
 my Lord.  I turn my attention to poor sin-
 ners, that I may warn them,  that, peradven-
 ture, the Lord  would see fit  to forgive them
 their sins.
   [Here she was asked by Professor Gris-
 com, why should  it be  thought, in this
 enlightened age, the duty of  an illiterate fe-
 male to give instruction, on  religious sub-
jects ?]                  *
   My friends,  truly,  it  is a  strange thing, 
237
and it is a mystery to many. Art thou speak-
king of myself?  Truly, T have not had  the
advantage of education: I  am but  a poor ig-
norant child ; but what I speak, my God
seemeth  to reveal it unto  me.  But think it
not strange: the Lord God hath power to do
his will in the earth, notwithstanding it seem-
eth to be so hard to understand ; yet it is easy
with Mm to accomplish his will by the weak-
est instruments.  I am bowed down all the
day long, and am ready to say that the bur-
den of the Lord is too heavy ;  and oftentimes
I pray that he would cut my life short; but,
truly, if I could feel reconciled as I  do now
to his  dealings with me;  if  it were at all
times with me as  it is now I am speaking
unto you, I  should  be still,  and know that
the^Lord God liveth ; but I  am  left to my-
self, at times, and «am found mourning and
weeping bitterly.  [She was asked if  she
conceived there Avas any immediate revela-
tion made to her,  to speak as she  now did.]
Think not that I am speaking a new revela-
tion come down from heaven, for I say there   »
is not any: for, truly, John  said, "Let no
man add thereto,  nor diminish therefrom."
I  pretend not to  deliver any thing, or  re* 
                   238
 commend any truth but what is contained  iti
 the bible, which is*the only rule to guide the
 way to my Father's house. But you that are
 the faithful  children of the living God: you
 will one day know what  these things mean.
 Sinners will have to give an account: I will,
 therefore, take words and warn  you; for,
 truly, I am an infant; but I will warn you,
 lest you  go down to the regions of everlas-
 ting wo, where  it will  be poured out upon
 you  without  mixture and  without men y.
 Truly, he that dieth in his sins, where Jesus
 is, there he cannot come.   But give not sleep
 to your eyes, nor slumber  to your  eye-lids,
 till you have embraced the rich offer of par-
 don  which yet remains  within your power.
 To-day,  if ye will  hear  his  voice, harden
not your  hearts.   Be not you like  the%ieh
 man, that careth  for nothing but the things
 of this world,  but seek,  first,, forgiveness for
 your sins.

    Let sinners take their course,
      And choose the road to death, &c.

   0 ! that  he would open your eyes, that
 you may see your  danger before the things 
239
 Which belong to your peace are for ever hid-
 den from your eyes.
   Dearly beloved!  for I think I may call you
 so, for methinks I  love you,  for how can I
 see you going  down to  hell, when there is
 sufficient in the blood of Christ to make you
 white as'wool,  and  pure as the snow ? even,
 though your sins be like scarlet or as crim-
 son.   O youth ? remember your  Creator  in
 the days of your youth.   What is more de-
 lightful than  to see  youth walking in wis-
 dom's ways? wiiose ways  are ways of plea-
 santness,  and all her paths are peace.   It is
 like apples of gold,  set in pictures of silver.
 I do not say that you will appear respectable
 before the men of  the earth ; but you shall
 appear respectable before the everlasting Fa-
 ther, and the Prince of Peace ; and you will
 be honoured in  the heavens above  : you will
 be owned of him  whose own  wisdom found
 it out: whose own understanding ordered  it.
 My friends, I  must tell you plainly your
 awful  situation!  There  is  but one  step
 between  you and death !   I do  not speak
 these things to  frighten you; but doth not
death follow you every where you  <;o ? How
 •lany are snatched away in a moment! Pre-
                   U 
210
 pare to meet your God,  O  house of Israel!
 Truly, may you consider, that you stand in
 slippery places, and fiery billows roll below!
 Is there any that can desire to  dwell  with
 everlasting misery, sorrow and sighing ? Ah!
 but for you,  who have accepted  the offers of
 mercy, all  is happiness! all is joy!  But
 the nations of hell do dwell in a lake of fire
and brimstone ;  and the smoke  of their tor-
ment ascendeth up for ever  and ever : not a
drop of cool water to cool their tongues; jtnd
if they ask for mercy, there  is no  mercy for
them.   We read of the rich man that  died,
and in hell  he lifted up his  eyes, and  said
that he was  in  torment.   He entreated that
Lazarus might dip but his  finger in  water,
and cool his tongue; but, truly,  such  a pri-
vilege he was not willing to grant to Lazarus,
in his lifetime: he  then laid at his gate full
of sores, but received no  pity.   The dogs :
even the dogs !  had more compassion than
this rich man : and now he lifted up his eyes
and saw Lazarus enjoying happiness;  for it
was now his lot.   The other trusted not in
the living God ; he  had  no  compassion; he
was not the servant of God,  because he did
not bestow  any thing on this  poor beggar: 
241
he, truly, possessed great riches, and lived
sumptuously while on earth,  but the beggar
enjoyed more riches  in  heaven.  May you,
my friends, become like beggars;  for  the
children of the Lord may be compared  to
beggars.  They are needy, and,  without an
interest in the Lord Jesus, they  must perish
for ever.  Be ye  not like this rich man ;  for
you may call for a drop of water as  he did,
when too late; when  the door of  mercy,
which now standeth open  to  receive you,
shall be shut for ever.   Unite with me—O !
unite with me in prayer to that God, who is
able and willing to save all that call upon him,

                 PRAYER.

   O God ! thou that inhabitest eternity ! thou
that dwellest in worlds  of spirits ! thou that
art a being,  that sittest on a throne of glory !
and the place where thou dwellest is delight-
ful ; give a hearing ear,  when I call on thee !
Wilt thou look on Jesus, thy dear Son ? and
for his sake----
   [Here she coughed  several times, while
endeavouring to proceed, and after consid-
erable difficulty, accompanied with the usual 
2:i£
 spasmodic affection, fell into her ordinary ru-
 pose, or sound sleep, and did not awake dur-
 ing the night.]



 Miss Rachel Baker,  at  Mrs. Bowering's,
  Dr. M'Leod, and Dr.  Romaync present.
  March 23, 1815.

                PRAYER.

  Holy God, I have come into thy presence
again, and have attempted to bow myself be-
fore  the Most High God.   O Lord God Al-
mighty,  I do take words and attempt to ad-
dress thee;  because thou  art.a God of truth
and purity; there is no variableness,  neither
shadow of turning, but thou  art the  same
from  everlasting to everlasting; thou  art a
God of purity and a God of power, exalted
above the heavens where thou dwellest.  O
how shall such a poor unworthy worm of the
dust  come into thy  presence, for I am vile,
and  thou art a  God  of purity; I will not
come in my  own name and strength ; I will
not ask thee to look upon me in my own per- 
243
 sun,  but  for  Jesus's  sake, and his alone
 look upon me ; pass by my many transgres-
 sions.   Be thou my God and guide, while I
 live ; 0 support me in the days of my youth,
 that I may not be found murmuring against
 thee, whilst thy hand is upon me,  but may
 I be  enabled  to submit to thy blessed will.
 0 God, give  me  a heart that I may be able
 to lay low down in the valley of humiliation ;
 for I am puffed up with pride, which maketh
 me to repine against thy dispensations : I do
 earnestly  inquire  of  thee, why  thy hand
 should be more heavy on me than on my fel-
 low youth; I do  yet  say  in my heart, how
 can I stand up under  the mighty hand of the
 God of Jacob ? I entreat thee not to lay upon
 me more than  I am able to bear,  and O wilt
 thou lead me in that path that leads to eter-
 nal life ; may I be  much given  to piety in
 the days  of my youth, for herein lies  our
 peace :   Wisdom's ways are truly ways of
 pleasantness, and  all   her paths are peace.
 A pious sojiI shall find peace ; and it is thee,
 O  Lord, aud thee only, that can give me  a
 pious heart.   O may I be able to adorn my
 life, with a well-ordered conversation ; may I
not be ashamed of the  gosv.cj <;f Chii**.  bu>
                   U;C  x 
2 H
may I run and  not be weary in the way of
thy  commandments; may I walk, and  not
faint, in the pathway of duty.  I will pray
for Zion, thy people, that thou wouldst be a
wall of fire round about,  and defence in the
midst of her; may she arise and put on  her
beautiful garments ; may she appear fair as the
sun, clear as the moon, and terrible as an ar-
my with banners.   May Zion thy people be-
come a mighty  people, and cover the whole
earth, so that the kingdoms of this earth may
become the kingdoms of Jesus Christ; when
men, eyen men, shall not be inclined to learn
war any more; when  Satan, even Satan,
shall have a seal set on him, that he may go
no  more out to  destroy and deceive ; when
thy dear children shall go hand in hand, and
there shall be nothing to hurt or destroy, in
all thy holy mountain.  Bring on that glori-
ous time, when all shall know thee from the
least unto the greatest, and the black,  and
the white, the bond and free, shall become
one in thee.  The wicked shall be  swept
away,  but truly the kingdom of our Lord
will come, and  0 may thy will be  done on
earth, as it is done in heaven, and thine O
God,  shall be the glory, now, and for ever-
more.   Amen, 
S4j
                 ADDRESS.

   Now, O ye children of men !  candidates
 for immortality,  and bound to appear before
 the bar of God, I take words to address you;
 I should not address you, if it was not of* the
 highest importance; for  I  do not speak to
 you of the things of this world,  but of the
 things of Jesus Christ; for this is better than
 thousands of gold and silver.   I call  on you
 who have known the name of Jesus  Christ.
 I inquire of you whether you love the Lord
 Jesus Christ, with a pure heart, fervently ; for
 except you do, your religion is vain ;  except
 you have received the spirit of Jesus you can-
 not be of the church of God; truly,  except
 you have  been  born  again  you  cannot in-
 herit the  kingdom  of heaven:   flesh and
 blood cannot inherit the kingdom.  I speak
 these things unto  you, for I perceive  it is  a
 time when professors and teachers sleep to-
 gether.   The  time  cometh  when the  cry
 shall be heard, behold the bridegroom com-
 eth, go ye forth to meet him ; then you  that
 have not  true  and genuine faith in God will
be found  wanting ; you will not have grace
sufficient  to enter into the marriage supper; 
216
but those who have that true faith shall enter
in, and the door will  be shut.   Here Dr.
M'Leod asked—
   Q.  Rachel, what is the marriage supper of
the lamb ?
   A.  My dear friends, shalll say that if any
one is born of God he is married unto Christ;
behold, we that have  experienced religion,
and have true genuine faith, are married unto
Christ; we shall  be the bride, the  Lamb'*
wife, in that day  when he maketh up his jew-
els, and he will spare his people, even as a
man spareth his own son, that serveth him;
truly, when we experience the grace of God
in our  hearts, we arc married unto Christ.
But, remember, we shall  come into his pre-
sence when we forsake this clay ;  it is fool-
ishness for any who have  not had their heart
changed :  they cannot understand what this
change means, and what it is thus to be mar-
ried to Christ.  It is not in the power of man
to change  the heart: no,  it is  not  flesh and
blood that shall ever change the heart of any
creature.  He who livetii on high, who cre-
ated the heavens and the  earth, w ho ordain-
ed them, and set them in  their proper order ;
that self same being changeth the  hearts  of 
2*7
 the children of men, and marrieth them unto
 Christ.  You  cannot  marry  yourself  unto
 Christ;  and no man can truly change his
 own heart, for it is truly impossible to merit
 salvation of himself; therefore, if the Lord
 do not change our hearts, we shall  not be
 able to enter into the marriage supper.  If I
 Wtere able to buy a garment that would never
 wear out, it would not fit me to enter in : no,
 Christ must, himself,  furnish the wedding
 garment.  I would to God that you were all
 changed ; and if not, you cannot in any wise
 be worthy to enter in  with him.   Here Dr.
 M'Leod asked—
   Q. Where shall  we  find this  marriage
 supper?
   A. Truly I, even I, think that the gospel
 of our God is part of it;  wre do not possess
 the full amount of this till we arrive in heav-
 en.  My friends, behold, the body and the
 blood of Christ, truly, is the feast that we
 must feast upon.  Do we that are professors
 of the Lamb, know what this feast means ?
 AVe  do truly partake  of the  natural bread,
 the emblem  of the  body of  Christ;  we do
truly  partake of the wine,  the  sign of the
blood of Christ; and our Saviour said, as 
248
 oft as he eat of this bread,  and drink of this
 cup, do it in  remembrance  of me.   But re-
 member, if we are of this happy number, we
 shall drink of this cup that shall never fail us,
 we shall eat of this bread, that we shall never
 hunger; then will the supper be completed;
 then will we dwell with our beloved  for ev-
 er and ever.
   Behold,  we  that do profess to love the
 Lord Jesus,  can sit under the droppings of
 the sanctuary, and eat of the bread, and drink
 of the  cup, in  remembrance of him !   And
 it is our song and our delight, thus to  sit un-
 der the droppings of his sanctuary.  Truly,
 his fruit is sweet  to our taste, and  we sit
 down under the shadow with great delight.
 Here Dr. M'Leod  asked—
  Q.  How is a person married to Christ ?
  A.  Have I not told you, that they are mar-
 ried when they have their hearts  changed :
they are become his friends, and  so  as one
who is his companion : they are united  to him
in love, and seek not to be unmarried.  For
Jesus Christ,  the son of God, it was he  who
was like unto his Father, and condescended
to become like a man, and took upon him the
infirmities of a man. But not only so ; he also 
249
bore the sins of many people  on Calvary.
He not only tasted death, but hath ascended
up on high, and pleadeth for poor sinners—
he pleadeth for you ; he, knowing that you
dwell in the flesh,  and having also, himself,
taken upon him our nature, he knoweth how
io pity our infirmities.
   We  have reason .to  rejoice, because  we
have a great high priest who is gone into
heaven, and ever liveth, to make interces-
sion for us.  We have reason to rejoice ;  for
if we do sin, we have an advocate with  the
Father, even Jesus Christ,  who is the propi-
tiation  for our  sins.   Not as if,  O friends !
I were telling you, you can live  perfect  in
the flesh ; for while you  do live in the flesh,
you  do  meet with much tribulation  in  the
flesh;  but  our  God will deliver you in due
time :   You are now connected with this bo-
dy,  and need an application of the blood of
Christ to cleanse you from  your sins.   Do
not  be insensible, for sin is mixed with all
our  works; and I,  even I, do cry out and
say, as the apostle  himself  also cried out,
" 0! wretched man  that I am!  who shall
deliver me from this body of sin and death!"
I am sensible there h no one able to  deliver 
                    250
 uie but he who sitteth on high.  Let us, then,
 follow on to know him, till we arrive at the
 fair Canaan's land, when the Lord will wipe
 away all tears from our eyes, and  we  shall
 sit down with Abraham,  with Isaac, and
 with Jacob, in his kingdom, and  celebrate
 the everlasting praises of our God.
   Watch and  pray:   A prayerful life be-
 longeth to a christian, while walking through
 this sinful world to his Father's house.  We
 shall be tempted to commit sin, for  the devil
 did tempt Jesus : he had power to tempt him ;
 but Jesus, having more wisdom than the de-
 vil himself, put 'dm to silence, saying, I will
 worship the Lord.   Now, let this mind be in
 yoa which  was  in  Christ.  But the  carnal
 heart is at  enmity with God : but mortify
 this, by putting on the new man, and walking
 in all godliness and all holiness.
  1 wish that you should not  be  unmindful
 of what I say; for I trust that my Father will
 notleave me to  say any thing that isnotagree-
 able to his will ; and it is  his favour  that I
 desire.  I beseech  you,  then, O,  friends  !
 attend to this one thing needful; for  all other
things are no more to be compared to it than
 a. bubble is to silver and gold. -— 
                  251
  Q. Rachel, here are some of the ministers
of the gospel present;  have you any thing to
say to them ?
  A. I have sufficient to say unto them :  al-
though a poor unworthy worm, yet will I
speak unto them : Yet I would not that they
should be offended With me, for they are the
ambassadors  of Christ.   Will you,  then,
hear such  a  poor unworthy worm ?  I  be-
seech you, in Christ's stead,  he you recon-
ciled unto God;  and see that you preach the
gospel in  purity.   0, ye  that are called to
proclaim the everlasting  gospel! I do exhort
you to take the word  of God  to be  the man
of your  counsel; for it is the only sure foun-
dation.   Study to prove  yourselves work-
men, that  need net be ashamed, rightly di-
viding the  word of truth.  Declare  nothing
but the  gospel of our Lord Jesus  Christ:
May you cry  aloud, and spare not; but show
unto the house of Jacob  their sins.   Declare
the whole counsel  of  God  to this dying
world:  and  may you,  as under-shepherds,
feed the lambs of Christ with good food, go-
ing in and out before the Lord orderly, in all
things:  and pray much, for this is commend-
able.
                    W 
252
   Q. Rachel.  Would you not wish some of
 the ministers present to pray for you ?
   A. I wish you truly to hear me, and then
 I will quietly wait till they address the Most
 High :  I will speak  what the Lord giveth
 me to declare and then I will hear them.  Be
 not  weary, for I will fiot speak any thing
 that will be injurious : Hear me with patience,
 for it is the will of God that I should speak
 unto you.   Enter into your closets and pray
 nnto your Father, who seeth in secret; and do
 not forget me, for I need the prayers of the
 righteous, knowing that their prayers will
 save the weak.   May your  lives be as be-
 cometh the ambassadors of Christ.  Lay low
 in the valley of humiliation.   I will turn my
 attention to sinners.
  [Here she again was interrupted with  the
 same  question as last put to her.]
  Answer.   When I have exhorted  them,
 and have prayed to my God, then will I hear
the ambassadors with patience, and will be
much edified in hearing them : For my God
hath made  me to  do so much ; for of myself
I shall  not be able  to answer.  Peradven-
ture,  my prayers will not be as edifying as
theirs :  Hear, then, with patience, for I will
not be found neglecting the work of my God 
253
   0, sinners ! your feet stand  on  slippery
 places, and " fiery billows roll below !" How
 shall I address you, because I am weak ? I
 only tell you, that you must put your trust in
 God.  Therefore, it is my heart's desire, and
 prayer to God, that he would draw you, and
 incline you to run after him, and inquire what
 you shall do, in the days of your youth,
   Now,  unite with me in prayer to him that
 dwelleth on high; for,  truly, this work the
 Lord hath required of me.  I, even I,  must
 render up an account how I spend my life in
 piety : it becometh me to inquire in wisdom's
 ways :   Therefore, I will fall on the bended
 knees of my soul, and  pray  unto him who
 made the heavens and the earth.
             [Prayer omitted."]


 Miss Rachel Baker, at  Mrs. Bowering's,
             March 2% 1815.

 In the following pages you have the substance and
 spirit, and, with very little alteration, the expressions
 are preserved ; but  not being taken in short hand, a
great deal has been  lost.  The  fulness of illustration
is much curtailed, but there is no  embellishment; even
fhe ungrammatical phrases are left so.   The whofe 
254
 cxevciic took up one hour and a  quarter, and she
 speaks one fourth faster  than a good orator. The
 reader can judge what is the extent of the omissiens.

                 PRAYER,

  O thou  who inhabitest  eternity ! and art
 a Being that it is impossible for  thee to err
in any of thy ways! who  art seated on—.
yea, the throne above is the place of thy dwel-
ling ! I,  even I,  have  attempted  to  come
into thy holy presence ; and when I do come
into thy presence, it is for thy Son's sake, but
not for any thing of my own.  I will not at-
tempt to come in my own righteousness, for,
OGod! my righteousness  is  unholy before
 thee ; it is nothing; it is  filthy rags.  I have
nothing of myself to offer before  thee; I
know not how to pray as I ought; therefore,
help me to pray  aright, and not amiss.  O!
help me to pray aright; for upright and holy
are thy acts.   O! that thou wouldest forgive
my past walking in the days of my youth,
when I sinned against thee,  and broke thy
law.   O ! that thou wrouldest give me a pure
heart,  that I might walk before thee blame-
less, and not offend against thee.  O  that I
 might be more given  to piety  in the days of 
255
  sriy youth!   0! that thou wouldest give me
  the spirit to direct and to guide; to keep me
  from evil; to make me love thee with a pure
  heart, fervently.  I would that I may love
  my brethren  with a pure heart,  fervently.
  Make me to love the children of men ; even
  their hearts ; and  may I have a  disposition
  to do them good,  and an anxiety to see them
  come unto  thee.   Holy  Father! wilt thou
  set them before thee,  my God,  and put thy
  love in  their hearts, and  make them know
  thee and love thy ways?  May I,  O God !
  do justly with the children of men.  May I,
  O God ! love them, and may they be blessed
  in thee.  O  ! that thou wouldest look in ten-
  derness on me in  the day of  my  distress-
  that thou wouldest save me and deliver me.
'  Also,  O God! remember thine  own.  O !
  that thou wouldest make me to  understand
  why thou art dealing thus with me ; that thou
  wouldest teach me in thy ways, and establish
  me in the faith. Keep me from turning away
  from thee, that I, even I,  may be found in
  the precepts of the Lord; that I,  even  I,
  may be found walking forward in thy paths,
  adoring the gospel of my Saviour.   O that
  thiv.i wouldest bless Zion ! Cause her to arise
                     W3 
25(5
and shine.   Be thou a wall of fire  around
her,  and thy glory in the midst of her.   May
thy people be kept  by  thee from  evil: 0
Lord, renew their strength ! may they truly
be  strong  in thy strength! may  they run
with patience and diligence,  and not be wea-
ry nor give back !   may they walk and not
faint!  O!  that  thou wouldest  truly, yea,
truly, usher in  the  latter day, when thou
shalt have all the glory ; when he shall come,
whose kingdom  is  everlasting;  when  the
kingdoms of this world shall become the king-
dom of our Lord and his Christ.  Then thy
watchman  shall  see, eye  to  eye, and  thy
name shall be glorified in them.  They shall
no further separate,- but unite their hands in
working thy work.   Satan shall  be  bound
with an  iron chain, and  shall go forth no
more to disturb them that dwell on the earth.
0 ! that thou wouldest  look upon hardened
sinners to show them what they are.   Tell
them that they are in a woful state; for they
are at enmity with thee.   Is  not thy, voice
against them as loud as the thunder of Sinai ?
and yet they will not hear ; and yet they  will
harden their hearts  more and more.  I would
beseech thee to open their eyes and make them
see their danger. Convince their stony hearts: 
257
-then should they return unto thee,  and thou
wouldest have mercy on them. Holy Father:
work like thyself here on the earth,  that men
may put  their trust in thee.   O that thou
wouldest get to thyself a great name ! O that
thou wouldest get a name among the heathen !
that thou wouldest let thy light shine upon
them.   Make  them forsake their idolatries,
 and turn  and  worship thee, the only true
God.  I  will pray that the spirit of grace
may rest upon them;  that they may serve
the Lord, in truth.  And  may the spirit of
 grace  be with me,  when I exhort and warn
thy people; and unto thee shall be the glo-
 ry, and" the power, &c. for ever.   Amen.

                ADDRESS.

   Now unto you that are  bound to an eter-
 nal world, unto you who are candidates for
 immortal happiness, I will take  words and
 speak, though I am a youth, and seem to be
 a babe in  knowledge, and am  unworthy to
 speak of these  glorious  things.  O  ye, my
 friends, who  love the Lord Jesus, I would
 exhort you to be immoveable, always abound-
 ing in faith and love.   0 !  may you hold out
 unto  death.   0 !  that yon  may persevere ; 
§58
that yon may keep the faith ; so shall  you
receive a crown of glory ;  yea,  a crown of
glory when your  work  is done.   Then will
you enjoy  the pleasure of the Lord  in full
abundance, and you  will come before him
and enjoy his presence.
  Yea, my dearest friends, unto whose hearts
the spirit has made the  application  of the
blood of Christ, who are bound to one*another
with bands of love, shall I tell you what are
the rewards of the righteous ?  I declare un-
to you, that  if I had the tongue of angels,
and could  speak the things they  see, then I
should describe the joys of heaven; the joys
which you are hastening  to enjoy.  Truly
the streets are  lined  with gold, with pure
sold.  Their robes are white and clean, for
they are washed in the  blood of  the Lamb.
These are  they which have come out of much
tribulation, they being worthy  to sit  down
with the Lamb on his throne.  0 ! how beau-
tiful must they appear!  how glorious!  No
 carnal eye can behold them.  Nothing that
 is unclean can enter there.  My  dear friends, •
 angels and archangels do inhabit this glorious
place.  It is utterly impossible for me to de-
 scribe the  glory of that dwelling in  heaven.
 The spirits of the just dwell there : yea, the 
259
 Father himself is there.   And now it is here
 that we shall go to dwell.   We are going to
 partake----
   Question. Rachel, can there be any salva-
 tion without election ?
   A. My dear  friend, hast thou  asked me
 if there can be any  salvation without  elec-
 tion ?.  O ye, my friends, I will tell you this,
 there will be no salvation without the shed-
 ding of blood ; and Christ hath shed his own
 blood to  atone  for sin;  and behold ye, my
 friends, he offered salvation unto all men, and
 they that  hear  the voice of God,  and come
 and believe in Christ, they shall be saved.
   Let me not say the Lord hath  chosen to
 be his children these or  those, and hath left
 the rest to perish;  I should lie,  speaking for
 truth what I know not; for I  have  not the
 knowledge of the Almighty, neither  have I
 the eye of God, to see into the heart  wheth-
 cr it received the Lord, or rejected him and
 his salvation.  Neither can I tell you but by
 the outward walk  whether the heart  is right
 before God,  Let me not say God hath elec-
 ted some to be saved, do as  bad as they may.
 The people that he hath chosen, is it not the
'spirit of the  Lord that dwelleth in  them? 
§60
  Yea, it  is, and they cannot  do evil,  for his
  spirit sanctifies them, and they love him, and
  must keep his commandments.   If I had an
  eye like him, I could show you who they are,
  and if I had his understanding, I could tell
  you the reason why some of the human race
  are saved,  and some are left under sin to go
  down to the pit.  It is foolish, O friends, for
  the children of men to attempt to discover the
 secrets of the  Almighty,; therefore, for you
 that have  heard his gospel, I would, say,
 do not puzzel your minds and torment your
 hearts to find out who are of the  chosen, and
 who are not. But of all things strive to know
 whether ye be  in the faith; for he offers sal-
 vation to all.   "Whosoever will, let him
 come."  I exhort you, then to come and be-
 lieve in his name;  for all that  believe are
 saved, and  these are the elected ones ; but
 them that do not believe do shut themselves
 out, and shall never—■__
  Question. Rachel,  of all the graces of the
 spirit, which first exercised your mind ?
  A. What do you say my friend ? Do you
ask me,  of all the graces of the spirit, which
first occupied my mind ?   Well, I must tell
you what I have experienced in  the days of 
261
my youth.  When I was but a small  child
the Lord called in me loud  news.  He told
me I was a sinner.  The Lord called, but
alas, I turned a deaf ear to his call.   Shall I
relate my experience ? When I was a child,
of nine  years old, I was struck  with great
solemnity,  because I was a wicked child.  I
disobeyed my mother, and the Lord  put ter-
ror in my soul;  I stood in great  fear, for I
was made sensible of having sinned in diso-
beying my  mother.   It  laid such a  weight
upon me, I was forced to go. and pray to God,
and I prayed to  God, and he made  me see
my sinfulness, and he  showed me that he
could take  away  my sins, and I gave----
  Q. Rachel, How shall we be able to give
a rational account of the condition  in  which
you now are?
  A. Do you ask me how you shall be able,
&c.  O, ye friends, be ye not  hurt because
the hand of the Lord is upon me in the days
of my youth.  I would tell you how  to ex-
plain all this if it was in my power :  but it is
impossible: I know not how it is. It is known
only to God.  Great is the mystery of godli-
ness : and  truly  great is the mystery he is
working in me.   Is he not manifesting him-
self a God that doeth strange things? I wouki 
                    262
 tell you, if it were possible ; I would explain
 his strange dealings ; I would say that the bur-
 den of the Lord is  too heavy for me in the
 days of my youth ;  I do not enjoy so much
 of the presence of the Lord as I ought.  The
 burden for my sins  is too great,  and there-
 fore it is that I, even I, am brought to uttter
 words.  And I, even I,  can  give no other
 reason ; save the will of my heavenly Father,
 He can explain it all; and if not on earth, re-
 member there is a day coming when all these
 shall be brought °to view  openly.   I do not
 these things to deceive the  children of men.
 I  speak the truth as  it is in Jesus, and  this
 truth I must speak.   If I cease to utter words
 and declare doctrine, let my mouth be dumb.
 and my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth.
 Now, my dear friends,  I have given you all
 I can.  If I could give  you more I would :
 but I cannot.   Pray the Lord for  me that he
 would lift me up  and keep me. Be up  and
 doing, wrorking out your own salvation with
 fear and trembling, for it is God that worketh
in  you both to will and to do of his own good
pleasure.  Now,  0 ye my friends^ knowing
that ye have set out,  fight the good fight of
faith, looking unto Jesus, who is the author,
and wiio will  be the finishing of faith.   Be ye 
                   263
therefore confident in  the Lord although this
world should rise up againstyou. Although the
hosts of hell should rise up, you should not be
moved.  The foundation standeth sure and
steadfast, and those who build on it pure gold
shall stand in the day  of trial. But remember,
O friends, the day is coming when it shall be
known whether they  have   built  pure gold,
or wood, hay,  and  stubble.  But  let  me
speak  to you,  my friends, of this wood, hay,
and stubble.  They  that  trust entirely to
Christ, and the work of his  spirit, to build on
this foundation,  are the ones that  build pure
gold.  But there is a building of wood, hay,
and stubble;  and these are  (hey. who  are for
adding something of their own.   And when
the lire tries their work, their wood, hay, and
stubble shall be  destroyed  ; but  their gold
shall remain.  Now ye, O my friends, consi-
der, the Lord Jesus shall make his appearance
in the clouds ; and they that have an interest
in him  shall rejoice, but the  rest shall mourn.
Have you, then, "your treasure laid  up in
heaven, that where your treasure is, there your
heart may be also ? "   So, if you should die,
your bodies may sleep quietly in the gravo;
until *he ressurrection  : but then they  shall
                   X 
26i
 arise ; for the graves shall give up their dead,
 to meet the Lord in the air.
  It is a truth, we shall all sleep ; but it is
 a blessed truth,  that we shall all rise again :
 and blessed are they that have  a part in the
 first resurrection ; for on  such the  second
 death shall have no power.   There is a first
 and a  second resurrection. Those of the first
 shall rise, and dwell  on earth  a thousand
 years ; and  during this time Satan shall be
 bound, and so have no power to hurt: wicked-
 ness shall be destroyed.   Then  my prayers,
 which I have sooften offered up, come to pass.
 The kingdom of our Lord shall come ; that
 kingdom which is from everlasting shall be
 established.  O, my friends ! the scriptures
 do inform us, that there shall be* peace and
 happiness a thousand years. There shall be
 no sickness : no death : no sighing :  no par-
 ting of hands : none other kingdom  than the
 kingdom of our Lord and  his Christ. Truly,
 O friends ! all sickness shall disappear; and
 there will be new heavens and a new earth,
 wherein dwelleth righteousness.
  My  dear friends ! after this reign of a thou-
 sand years,  Satan will be loosed for a little
 While.   Then will he  also go forth to make
war with Gog and Magog.  He  shall be but 
265
 for a short time :  his power shall be cut oft
 for ever.  Then shall  the  great day come,
 when every kingdom shall stand before  the
 judgment; yea, all kindred, and  tongues,
 and people, shall stand before the throne  of
 God.  He will divide them into two  great
 companies : he will separate his sheep from
 his  goats, like a  shepherd.  One of  these
 classes he will place on  his right hand, and
 the other on his left.  Then shall he that is
 seated on the seat of grace  change his seat.
 He will  rise from the seat of grace, and sit
 down on the seat of Judgment.   " He that is
 holy, let him be  holy still; and he that is
 filthy, let him be filthy still."
   My friends,  there is no repentance in the
 grave ; there is none before the seat of judg-
 ment.  And, O, remember! the judge will
 pronounce a just sentence ; and this is the
 sentence : " Come, ye blessed of my Father,
 inherit the kingdom prepared for you before
 the foundation of  the world."  Then open
 wide shall fly  the  pearly gates of  the new
Jerusalem.  Then, then shall they  enter in.,
to join the glorious company, and be for ever
with the Lord; while those standing on the
/eft hand; methinks their knees will tremble, 
266
 and their faces gather blackness.   Unto them
 will he say, " Depart from me, ye cursed ;"
 and these shall go away into everlasting tor-
 ments, compared with a lake that burns with
 fire and brimstone.   It may be said, and it is
 a truth, that the wrath of God will be poured
 out upon them without mercy.
   Remember, O my friends, this day will be
 a solemn day to the congregation of the whole,
 earth.   They shall come forth, all of them ;
 the righteous  into life,  but the wicked  into
 condemnation.   It is for me to beseech you
 to search diligently,  whether you  are right-
 eous before  God.  How can you lift up your
 eyes in hell? and this you must do,if you believe
 not in Christ.   Remember,  this life i« a  life
 for you to repent, and believe in Christ; a
 time for you to make your peace with God.
 Therefore, it becometh you, who  have  not
 been reconciled unto him, to call upon the
 Lord Jesus  with a pure heart, fervently; to
 come with a deep sense of your sins ; for a
 broken heart is a pleasing sacrifice, and he
will not cast you off.  Now, give yourselves
 up, like the poor publican, who had nothing
to present, and did present nothing, but his
broken heart.   If you do see your sin as 
-m
abominable; yea, as of a crimson die ; come
unto Christ:  his  blood cleanscth all  sin.
Aud, O, friends !  it is his blood that wash-
es you, and fits you for heaven.  What think
you of the jailor? He was appointed to keep
the apostles ; but an angel of the Lord came,
and  shook  off their fetters, and opened the
prison gates ; so that they had an  opportuni-
ty of escaping,  and he  supposed  they were
gone.  He was going to kill himself; but
Paul cried  to him  not to hurt  himself.  It
was then he got a view of his sins ;  and he
fell down at their feet, and inquired what he
should do to be saved.  The servant of the
Lord directed him to nothing else but only,
" Believe in the Lord Jesus,  aud thou  shalt
be saved;" and he arose, and was baptized
immediately.
  Nowr, if you will come into the situation of
the jailor,  and the  poor publican, you shall
be seceived  in  like manner;  for  the Lord
hath said, he will  bind up the broken heart-
ed, he will give his spirit to  them who de-
sire it.  Now to you w7ho have turned  unto
him, consider ye the children  of Israel, and
who delivered them.  The Lord  their  God
opened a way to t'u'ni,  thrc-r.gk i\)f R'd Sea.
                   X % 
268
 and they passed safely, but their enemies were
 drowned.  My friends,  was it not the  hand
 of the Lord ? yea, every one must confess  it
 was the hand of the Lord.  And who did de-
 liver the apostles ? it was  the hand of the
 Lord that loosed their chains, and opened the
 prison like thunder.  And  O, my friends,,
 what think you of Daniel ? He was  cast into
 the lion's den, but they did him  no harm.
 Although he was cast  into their den, the
 Lord stopped the  mouth of the lion.  Daniel
 prayed constantly to the Lord, and he saved
 him.  Was not this the hand of the Lord ?
 yea, every one must confess that this w7as the
 hand  of the Lord.  And  again, O  ye, my
 friends ; you remember the  three children ;
 they were cast into the burning furnace, but
 they Were not hurt: And,  behold, four men
 were seen walking in the  midst of the fur-
 nace, and  the fourth was like the Son  of
 God.   Yea, my friends, it wTas the Lord that
•preserved them all, and shall we be weak in
 the faith? shall we  doubt that he  can pre-
 serve us ? God forbid.   He is the same now
 as he was  then, and  has  he not, and  does
 he not do greater things  now than these ?  Is
 not this greater,  to pardon the iniquities of
 the children of men ?  Do I speak  rashly ?
/T 
>2fi9
Is it not so ?  It is like raising one from the
dead ;  for behold, we  are dead  in trespas-
ses, and it is his  to raise us up, and  make
us live in newness of life.
  And you, who have not been raised, I have
truly brought these things to your'minds, that
you might not think light of them.   Although
the Lord doth not do great works, yet is not
this a great thing to quicken those dead in
sin  ?  I would  that salvation  would  come
out of Israel, and you  may all be partakers
of it.   My friends, I pray that you may be
led out by the still waters,  and may dwell in
peace. And pray remember me. I am a weak,
frail creature, burdened with sin ; and pray
for  me.  And  O, sinners, I  beseech  you
would not  rest any longer in sins ; but come
unto the Lord, that he may have mercy upon
you.   Remember you must stand before the
bar of God, as  well as I must; and without
the righteousness of Christ, we cannot stand
that trial.  I do, therefore, leave you in the
hand of God.  I leave you in his hand, when
I call upon him ; and unite in prayer to God,
even now,  in the days of my youth.
             [Prayer omitted.] 
                     270
  Miss Rachel Baker,  at Mrs. Bowe ring's,
    April28th, 1815.  A large company of the
    Society  of Friends present.  Taken in
    shorthand, by two expert  stenographers.     *

                  prayer.

    O Thou, who  dwellest on high, and the
 place where thou dwellest is in the high hea-
 vens above, be thou exalted, O my God, above
 the heavens, where thou dwellest, thou that
 art worthy.  O  thou  that art not  confined
 alone to the heavens,  but art pleased often-
 times to bow thy heavens; thou comest down
 on this lower earth,  making the mountains
 and the  hills to flow down at thy presence.
 O thou that forgivest  iniquity,  transgression,
 and sin, of the children of men; unto thee
 do I come at this  time,  and desire that thou
 wouldst be reconciled to me in thy dear Son.
 0 look not on me,  but look on the face of
 thine  anointed ; and for his sake, I entreat of
 thee to be reconciled to me, a poor unworthy
 worm of the dust, a child that is  not worthy
 to be counted among thy  children; for I have
 been given tr. vanity ;  I have not  walked be-
fore thee as I ought to have done ; I do seem
to say by my walk, who is. the misrhty God 
271
 of Jacob, that I should obey  him ?  Vanity
 of vanities  have been  my ways ? I have not
 been wise,  for I have not inquired about the
 wisdom that makeththe children of men wise;
 thou givest them  the  true wisdom.  I have
 been like a child  that has been disobedient,
 and deserves to be beaten with many stripes.
 Be thou,  then; reconciled  unto me,  for  thy
 dear Son's sake;  for I  perceive that all I
 ever did is vain, and all I ever can do must
 be vain to  merit  thy favour; there is  no-
 thing that can be  right and acceptable   but
 through him.   Help, then, O  God, for I am
 weak, and O, forsake me not; draw my mind
 after thee :  may my soul be filled with hea-
 venly  love; may  I be led to know things
 unutterable and incomprehensible  to this dy-
 ing world.   I wrould desire thy loving coun-
 tenance to shine upon  me ; for thy presence
 is life, and thy loving kindness is better than
 life.   I would desire that I may be kept as
 under the shadow  of thy wings, and  enjoy
 thy protection and  favour.   I would likewise
 remember thy Zion ; before thee, Zion, even
 Zion thy people hath set down by the cold
waters  of Babylon; she  hath  hung  her
harp upon the willows, and doth not rejoice 
272
 as iu days past.  O may she arise and put on
 her beautiful garments ; may she truly  ap-
 pear the light of the world, and be enabled to
 adorn her profession, that  the children of
 men may see, of a truth, there is a  God that
 reigneth in the earth,  and in the hearts of his
 own children, and will deliver  his  people
 out of their  tribulations, in  his  own due
 time.  And,  O that thou wouldst arise, and
 show thy great power.  Send forth thy spirit
 and thy  word, and let there  be a shaking
 among the dry bones of the valley of vision.
 And if thou do, the dry bones will hear thy
 word, and will stand  up an  exceeding  great
 army ; these things will thou doforthy name's
 sake.  May there be a general reformation ;
 and bring thy sons from afar, thy daughters
 from the ends of the  earth,  that  they may
 flow together, and praise the  name of our
 God.  O that our rulers might be just, ruling
 in thy fear;  men,  hating  covetousness, that
 they might fear the mighty God'of Jacob, and
that all people might know the God of Jacob,
 the holy one of Israel.  May all lands praise
 thee, O God ; may the mighty  waters praise
 thee, and they that take up their abode in the
 mighty waters; may  they  know thee, and
s 
273
bhow forth thy glory.   May  the  dry land
speak thy praise, and the promised time arrive,
when the wolf shall lie down with the lamb,
the lion eat straw like the ox, and there shall
be nothing to hurt nor destroy in all thy holy
mountain ; for thy watchman shall  see eye
to eye,  and thy children will walk together
in  unity, and there  shall be  no separating
Wall of parties and distinctions among them,
but all shall know thee, from the least even
unto the greatest.  May thy blessing  come
down upon all that know thy name, and who
pray unto thee ; hear thou their prayer, and
answer them, and all the praise shall be given
to the Father, Son, and  Holy Ghost, now
and for ever more.

                 ADDRESS

   0 Ye ! that are candidates bound to eterni-
ty, soon to appear before the awful bar of
judgment, and that will not be able to escape
from a God  of purity,  a God that will not
look upon  sin ; what shall I say unto you ?
and how shall I take  words  with  prudence,
and  speak unto you?  I would not  speak
flattering words unto you, but words of truth,
for naturally,  I say naturally,  you  are stran 
sr*
 gers from God, and do not love God, neither,
 indeed, can you, for the natural mind is at
 enmity with God, and is not subject  to  the
 law of God:  no,  not of yourselves can  you
 come to  love him, ,and do his  will.  How
 shall I, then, take words, and hovv shall I with
 prudence speak fram the sacred book  of the
 scriptures?   It is the  first thing, and a thing
 of the highest importance, to ask you  to
 search yourselves, and see whether you know
 yourselves, so that you may apply yourselves
 to heavenly wisdom, for you know not when
 your Lord will come ; whether he comes  at
 the third, or sixth, or ninth hour: he cometh
 at an hour when you look not for him, but be
^yelike that servant that is found wailing, and
 praying,  and looking  for the coming of his
 Lord.  And, first, I will address myself to
 you that are  christians  indeed,  you that
 do  belong  to my Father's kingdom, you
 that are  truly pilgrims and strangers   on
 the earth, that you are taking your staves in
 your hands and travelling with your faces set
 towards the heavenly Jerusalem.   I  beseech
 you, that you would lay aside every weight,
 and run .with  patience  the race that is set be-
 fore you, looking uuto Jesus ; and may you
 rm and not be weary,  may you walk and not 
.     „              275
 Faint yi the pathway of duty, for you  have
 abundant encouragement to persevere.  The
 apostles have left their testimony on record,
 that you might read  it, and be encouraged,
 and believe.  The partriarchs have left their
 record  to the faithfulness of God in his pro-
 mises,  that he will do as he hath said.  The
 disciples of the Lord, when he was on earth,
 have also left their testimony, that you might
 know that our God is a God that will deliver
 his people out of much, and imminent danger,
 into the promised land.  John was a witness,
 and  a  very great witness, to the truth.  The
 three children in the fiery furnace, were wit-
 nesses, for the Lord delivered  them.  0
 friends! Daniel  has left his proof on record,
 that the Lord God would  not leave  nor for-'
 sake his people; for he stopped the  mouths
 of the lions, and they hurt him not; and, be-
 hold, his servant did pray from the midst of
 the lions, and God heard his prayer,  aud did
 not forsake him.   Death seemed to be on his
 right hand, and  death on his  left: death
 seemed to compass him round; but the Lord
 God, being  faithful,  delivered  him in his
 due  time, and destroyed those  that  sought
 kis death.
                    Y 
276
-•
   Also you read  of the apostles5 being cast
into prison ; they endured cruel mockings and
scourgings; they were stoned, and persecuted,
and slain with the sword ; yet they have left
their testimony to  the faithfulness of him  in
whom they trusted,  who enabled them to re-
joice even in persecution——
   Q.   Rachel,  here  are a number of the
Friends come to see you, have you any thing
to say to them ?
   A.  My dear friends, I do rejoice to say
much unto them that are friends to me and to
my Saviour,  Jesus Christ, if indeed they be
friends to my Saviour.  O friends!  are you
come  up to hear what a poor unworthy worm
of the dust has to say for the name of my
Lord Jesus Christ ? though I  am truly but a
worm yet it is my duty to be  faithful, for  I
am in his hand, I do therefore speak  plainly
unto you;  I do inquire, are you his children ?
if you love him in  sincerity I will not cease to
own you as my friends. Yea, I will beseech you
not to fear, but to  be very confident, knowing
that he will keep you ; for he is able to  keep
all that put their  confidence on  him.   Can
you truly  say that Jesus is precious to you,
the chief among ten thousand,  and one  alto-
gether lovely? is your God my God,  my Fa- 
277
ther your Father, my Saviour your Saviour r
and are my people your people ? If so, I trust
that you will rejoice  with me both here and
in the fair heavens above :  and I know that
youwillifyou are friends of Jesus.   I will
not be found speaking any  thing saving the
truth in Christ Jesus my Lord.  If I speak
not according to the truth, believe me not; for
wo be unto me if I say any thing but the truth,
and this is the truth.   O friends ! if you are
alienated from the covenant of promise you
are  strangers and  outcasts,  having no solid
foundation  of hope, and are bound to ever-
lasting wo !  It is of the greatest importance
to inquire if you are of th# truth or no ; for
it profiteth nothing to have  an outward  pro-
fession of the name of Christ, while the heart
is full  of< all manner of abominations  and
wickedness  : for  our  Saviour said, wo unto
you if you make clean the outside of the-cup
and platter while the inward part is filled with
filth and nastiness that hath not been cleansed
away: wo  unto you if you  have not been
washed in the blood of Christ! wo be unto
every one that placeth darkness for light, and
light for darkness; evil for good, and good for
evil: that calleth bitter sweet, and sweet bitter; 
278
 and crooked straight, and straight crooked—
    But blest are the souls whose heart is set
    To find the way to Zion's Gate,

 for the Lord hatfy promised to be their helper,
 and he will  carry  them safe  unto the end.
 Unto you that are the friends,  of the living
 God, and belong to the family  that dwelleth
 on high, I beseech you dwell together in love
 like brethren  and sisters ; may you exhort
 one another daily unto love and good works,
 and so much the more as the day approacheth;
 pray one for another, for this is good and ac-
 ceptable to God our father, and see that your
 prayers be not hindered.  Husbands pray for
 your wives, wives pray for  your husbands ;
 parents pray for your children, and children
 for  your parents ; brothers for your  sisters,
 and sisters for your brothers ; this is good that
you thus put up your petitions to the God  of
heaven.
  And, O you that have named the name of
 Christ! I beseech you that you adorn your
profession by a well-ordered life and conver-
sation----
  [Here the question was put—"Why was it
 necessary that Christ should suffer and die?] 
                   #79
  My dear friends, shall I say unto you, O
thou fool!  dost thou not know that it was
necessary that he should leave  his  Father's
bosom and  die for  sinners? If Christ had
not died,  no flesh  could have  been saved;
for there was  no other arm to save : no, the
angels in heaven were not  worthy, neither
were they able to do this great work.  And
because our forefather  sinned  by  eating of
the  forbidden fruit,  and thus, by their diso-
bedience,  brought mankind into a woful sit-
uation ;  Jesus, beholding that  there was no
eye to pity  nor arm to  save, when he  was
with his Father,  when he stretched out the
mighty deep,  when he founded the  earth on
the waters, and spread forth the heavens with
all the stars, when he fixed the sun in the
firmauient, when he  created the fishes of the
sea, and the fowls of the air, and all  beasts of
the field, then he was with him as one brought
up with him, so that all things were  made by
him  and for him, and without him  was not
any thing made : he viewed the  world in this
wretched situation, he turned to his  Father*
perceiving  that there was no other arm to
save, he said unto his Father, I will leave thy
bosom and come into this world.   Jesus con-
                   Y? 
280
descending  to be  born  of a virgin  that  he
might become our Saviour, it was where the
horned oxen were fed, that he was laid in the
manger, for there was no room  in the inn.
0 !  the manger was the best bed  that cursed
sinners could afford him who left the glories
of heaven to dwell in our flesh ;  the angels
brought the message to the  shepherds  by
night in the fields, and there was a star that
stood over where  the young child lay; wise
men from the east went to the place, and they
fell down and presented unto him gifts, and
frankincense, and myrrh : they worshipped
the  young child,  and returned to their own
country ; when eight days old he was circum-
cised, that he might fulfil  all the law of God.
Herod, the king, sought after his life, for he
was very angry because the wise men returned
not  to him as he had commanded  them, so he
slew all the little  children that he might  de-
stroy Jesus also.  But Joseph,  being warned
of God in a dream, took the young child into
Egypt into a place of safety, till, Herod being
dead, they returned to Nazareth ; and when
they went up tothe feast at Jerusalem they took
the young child with them; and, behold, when
they were on their way home they discovered
that the young child was left behind; and,when 
281
they sought for him in Jerusalem, he was at
length found among the lawyers and doctors,
both hearing them and asking them questions,
for there arose an inquiry among them ; after
Jesus was absent from  them his mother was
uneasy, so they returned to search after him,
and  said to him :  truly we thought  you was
with us : Jesus said unto them with  affection
and  love,  it is high time that I was about my
Father's business ; yet he returned with them
and  continued subject to  them, as a child.
Jesus did his Father's business on earth in all
his life; and when he was about to enter into
the ministry he was baptized by John.   John
forbid him, saying, 1 have  need to be baptized
of thee: Jesus said, suffer  it to be so now,  for
thus it behooveth me to fulfil all righteousness.
Jesus was baptized to fulfil all righteousness,
and  end the law;  and truly Jesus  was bap-
tized in the river Jordan,  and coming out of
the water,  the spirit came in the shape of a
dove and descended upon him.  Jesus was
taken away by the  spirit into the wilderness
where he fasted forty days. Satan, the father
of lies and the enemy of all righteousness, was
permitted to tempt him in the wilderness, and
when he was an hungered, said, command this
stone to  be made bread.   Jesus, being God as 
282
well as man, was more wise than Safcan.and said
to him, It is written, man  shall not live h\
bread alone, but by every word that proceed-
eth out of the mouth of God.  Again Satan
setting him  on the pinnacle  of the temple,
saith  unto him, if thou be the Son  of  God
cast thyself down,  for it is written, he  shall
give his angels charge concerning thee least
thou dash thy foot against a stone. Jesus said,
thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God. Satan
seemeth not  to be satisfied  with  this,  and
taketh him into an  exceeding high mountain.
showing him all the kingdoms of the wrorld,
and their glory, said, all these are mine, and
they shall be thine  if thou wilt fall down and
worship me.  Truly Jesus, knowing that he
was the father of lies,  said, get thee behind
me Satan, get thee hence: for it is written, thou
shalt worship the Lord thy God, and him only
shalt thou serve. Then Jesus  went forth into
Gallilee preaching  the kingdom of God, heal-
ing the sick and giving sight to the blind; mak-
ing the dumb to speak and casting out devils ;
and when the devils saw him they said, let us
alone, I know thee  who thou art,  the holy one
of God.  Jesus truly  spent all  the days of
his appointed time  in doing good, and there
was  no iniquity in him; neither was guile 
                   283
 found in his mouth ;  for from his mother's
 womb there was found nothing that was not
 right: he did always the things that pleased
 his Father—
   [Here  Mr. Griscom asked  her why she
 preached in the night,  and not in the day.]
   My dear  friends,  remember, when the
 Lord giveth me understanding, then I must
 speak, for I do not speak of my own under-
 standing ; you may say that I  preach,  but I
 cannot say that I do, I only read the  lesson
 which my God giveth me, but  I  am  truly
 giving you the history  of Jesus Christ.   I
 did say that he was a man that was engaged
 in doing good, and never was guile found in
 his mouth, but he, went about  doing good to
 the children of men.   He  told  them to re-
 pent,  and when his full time came, he was
 delivered  up  and  crucified on Calvary's
 mount; yes,  our blessed Lord and Saviour,
 Jesus Christ, was crucified, and all this was
 done for you and me.  Let us  not,  then, be
like the unbelieving  Thomas, who said, I
will not believe except I see the  print of the
nails in his hands, and thrust my fingers into
the print of the nails, and  put my hand into
his side.  Jesus appeared unto him  and said, 
284
Behold my hands and my feet, and when
Thomas had done this he said, my Lord and
my God !  Let us believe  and look unto
him by an eye of faith, that it may be well
With us, for Jesus said, blessed are they that
have not seen, yet will believe upon me.   O,
friends ! he was crucified between two thieves,
the one on the right said, Lord remember me
when thou comest into thy kingdom ; Jesus
said,  this day shalt thou be with me in para-
dise ; but the other,  on the left,  reviled him,
and would not believe, he went down to hell|
being stubborn and would not believe.
  When he was dead, they broke not a bone
of his body, that the scripture might be  ful-
filled; they broke the legs of the other two,
but they broke not  a  bone of him.  Jesus
was taken down from the cross, and  Joseph
begged  the body of Jesus, and laid it in a
new tomb, where never man was laid,  and
they made  fast the door  of the sepulchre,
and laid a great stone against the door,  that
he might not be taken away, and they made
it  sure with  a  seal, setting a  watch;  but
when the time was come, Mary  Magdalene
went early in the morning  to the sepulchre,
but Jesus was risen,  and  she looked in and 
285
saw the linen cloth laying, and an angel said,
come and see where the Lord lay,  he hath
risen and goj^ into  Gallilee.   If I  mistake
not, Mary ran and told his disciples.   And
after he arose from  the dead, he gave com-
missions unto his twelve disciples, saying,
Go ye forth into all  nations  and preach the
gospel unto every creature, baptizing them
in the name of the Father, and of the  Son,
and of the Holy Ghost; and when he had
thus given his commission to them, he arose
up on high.   And  when he arose from the
dead many of the graves were opened, and ma-
ny of the saints arose and went  into  the city.
   He  finished the work of redemption  on
Calvary; he offered up himself a  sacrifice
for the sins of his  people.   Now, friends,
you asked me why  it  was necessary that
Christ Jesus should die. I have told you what
he underwent for us  while we were yet ene-
mies, and with greater love than we can con-
ceive, that we might  be brought nigh to God
by his  blood.  It was of the greatest impor-
tance  that Jesus might die for sinners.  Let
us now rejoice with  an exceeding great joy
that we have  a glorious High  Priest, that
was tempted in all points, like as we are, yet
sinned not, being tempted.   The scriptures 
•286
 inform n* that if any man sin,  we have an
 advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ,  the
 righteous, who is the propitiation for our sins.
 Be not weary and faint in your minds, stri-
 ving against  sin.  I have a lesson to read
 unto you that is written  on  the table  of my
 heart.  O, friends, you may  wonder how I,
 being an ignorant person, a  babe, and  ex-
 ceeding weak, should speak thus unto  you ;
 but  remember,  that Jesus   was  my  good
 schoolmaster ; although he is in heaven,  yet
 he is able to instruct me, so that it is not me,
 but the spirit of  God that speaketh unto.you.
 I, therefore,  speak only the  things that he
 giveth  me, that  you may cry out and say,
 with propriety,  " Great  and marvelous are
 thy works, Lord God Almighty !"
   Now, do not   inquire  of  me, for I must
 needs  do the will of my Father: I glory not
 in this thing, for it is not of  my own  will  :
 I glory not in any thing, but the cross of my
 Lord Jesus Christ.  The world seemeth to
be crucified  to me,  for I perceive that the
 silver  and the gold  is nothing.   The  Lord
 hath made me perceive,  that, could I call
the sun and moon my own, I would still  be
 a  wretch, • undone,  without  the blood  of
 Christ,  to wash away ray sins.  The time is 
287
drawing near, when it  shall be said of me,
as it is now said of many of my friends, that
they are dead and gone.
   Shall I stoop down into the dark world of
the dead, and view the awful scene ? Truly
my fond hopes are fled;  my limbs must min-
gle with the clay; my  body become the food
of worms—

    Stoop down ray thoughts, that used to rise,
      Converse awhile with death, &c.

   O, that I might be of that  happy number
that die in peace !  O,  that I might lie down
in  quietness! O,  that  I might live, bear-
ing the approach of the children of men with
patience, knowing the dear Lord will deliver
me out of these temptations in hh ov/n good
time.  Shortly  it will be said (frae -,s of
others, that they  are gone riiown to the grave,
and  are numbered with thi pa!c naCi^ns of
the dead.  They are gone, a^ I, also, shil?
go.  These limbs of mine shall  go  dawn
and mingle with the clay;  but my soul will
go to  God that gave it: my  bones  shall
moulder and be united to their mother earth;
but my soul will take its flight to the pre-
                    Z 
^88
 sence of its judge, and there have to  give
 an account how I do spend my time on earth

     Alas! this brittle clay,
      That built our body first—
     And ev'iy month and  evVy day,
      'Tis mould'ring back to dust.

   Low  ought  I  to lay,  knowing  that my
 road is downward to the grave.   Every day
 I  live,  is one day nearer  to the end;  every
 hour I live, is one hour nearer to the close of
 life.  O, my friends,  may the grace of our
 God go  with you, so  that you may rest in
 your graves in  peace !   I beseech you that
 you live quietly being in readiness for death,
for judgment, and eternity, knowing  that,
 death is  certain, and you  must each of you
 shortly go to give up your account; shortly
you  must go to  the  house appointed for all
living, and the pale messenger shall address
you;  " Set thy house in order, for thou shalt
die, and not live ! " It is of the highest impor-
tance that you have your  peace made with
God.  May sinners be alarmed at the solemn
word of eternity !  for it is  as sure to
them  as  to  others. All flesh must die ;  and
if you die in your  sins, where the Lord Je. 
289
sus is, there you cannot come : repent, then,
of your sins.  O, may you repent and turn
unto the Lord, my God, that you may have
life, and that you go not down to the grave
with endless curses on your head.   O ! make
your peace  speedily,  before  the  night  of
death  come upon you.  I beseech of you re
pent and be converted, that your  sins may
be blotted out, and  your names  be written
in the Lamb's book of life, and  may  have
right to eat of the tree of life, that stands in
the midst of the  paradise of God.  I cannot
speak  any more unto you, neither will I
speak flattering words unto you, for the Lord
hath his eyes on you,  when  you come in,
and when you go ont, when you lie down,
and when you rise up, he beholdeth you con-
tinually ; he knoweth the secret of your hearts.
How,  then, can  you live in open  rebellion
against God? The drunkard will have to give
up his account;  the blasphemer will have to
give his account; both men and women,  also,
must give up their account.  Let the wicked,
then,  turn unto the  Lord, that he may  have
mercy upon him ; and to our God, for he will
abundantly pardon.   I leave  you with my
God, for it is my duty to pray unto my God,
on the bended knees of my soul. 
290
                 PRAYER.

   Holy !  holy !  Lord God Almighty !  thou
that art a  God of purity, and doeth nothing
amiss ; unto thee, and thee alone, do I come,
and attempt to present myself before the
Most High! Re  not angry with  me, O God !
when I come, neither  withdraw  thy  holy
spirit from me.   Look  not on me,  but  look
on the face of thy anointed, and for his sake,
I  once more entreat of thee, to forgive my
-ins—
      Show pity Lord, O Lord forgive,
      Let a repenting sinner live.

May I mount up  on eagle's wings, may I run
und not be weary, may I walk and not faint.
O,  that thy presence might  rest upon  Zion
thy people ; water her by thy spirit, as with
dew from heaven.   O, that  the presence  of
her God might be with her; may she be fair
as the moon, clear as the sun, and terrible as
an army with banners ; may her walls be en-
larged.   Wilt thou be pleased  to send forth
thy truth where  it is not.  May the heathen
know thee to be a God of purity,  a  God  of 
                   29 i
justice, and a God of truth; may they forsake
their idolatries, and worship the living God
that made the  heavens and the earth.   O,
that thy  daughters  may be brought  from
afar, and thy sons from the ends of the earth:
that the kingdoms of this world may become
the  kingdoms of our Lord, and of his Christ,
whose  kingdom is an  everlasting  kingdom,
and to whose dominion there shall be no end.
0, that the wickedness of the wicked might
cease, that there might be a general inquiry,
what they must do to be saved.  Wilt thou
accompany thy servants, whom  thou hast
chosen by thy spirit, to stand on the walls of
Jerusalem ; may they preach the word in its
simplicity; may they not be found speaking
any thing but the truth.  Wilt thou bless our
rulers ; may they be men of piety ;  wilt thou
be pleased to  make them  know where their
strength lieth, that they may administer gov-
ernment in thy fear.  Wilt thou, O God^,
bless my parents; may they stand still, and
see the salvation of God ; may they be found
walking in all the ways of the Lord their
God, even as Zachariah and Elizabeth. And
bless their family ; may they all become thy
family; become  heirs with  thee, and joipi
                  Z>2 
                  292
heirs with Jesus Christ.  O, that thou would
est be a father to the fatherless, the widows'
God,  and the comforter of them that are in
affliction.  Say unto them that mourn in Zi-
on,  fear not, I am thy God, I will help thee,
yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand
of my righteousness; may they know that
their lover hath returned unto them, and will
not  forsake  them; speak  thou comfortable
words unto them ; let them hear thy voice,
saying, O, my dove  that  dwellest in  the
clefts of the rock; for sweet is thy voice, and
thy countenance is comely, therefore, do the
virgins love thee.  O, may we render ever-
lasting thanks unto thee, that thou hast res-
tored peace unto America, and forbid, that
there should be any more war and bloodshed
here on earth ; but may thy kingdom come,
and thy will be done on earth, as it is done
in heaven, and thine shall be the kingdom,
and the power, and the glory,  both now and
for  ever.  Amen. 
2*6
  [The editors have prescribed to the a", selves a rule tc
exclude from the present publication, all private  opi-
nions of their friends and correspondents upon the  case
of Miss B.   Should these have been accepted and ex-
hibited, they would  have swelled  the work to  an in-
convenient size.  They  have no desire to lay before
their readers a collection of opinions,  however respect-
able, on the favourable and the adverse sides of   this
question.   Had they entertained  any doubt of the au-
thenticity of the occurrences, they would have said so.
Had they believed the exercises, and the  condition of
 the body that leads to them, to be spurious and  decep
 tive, they would have  been the  foremost to have  pro-
 claimed the fact to their fellow-citizens.   They, never-
 theless, depart from their regulation, by inserting the
 following note from a very respectable gentleman,  who
 has  several times been  a witness of the seenes he de-
 scribes.]

 A letter from  Ferdinando  Faiefax, Esq.  of Vir-
   ginia, to Doctors Mitchill and Douglass, expres-
   sive of his conviction, that Miss Baker actually suf-
   fers her paroxysm,  and does not  dissimulate in any
   particular,  dated.

                           New-York 6th, May, 1S15.

  Gentlemen,
   From a principle of justice, and a love of truth, I ex-
  press  my opinion of the case of Rachel Baker, which
  I consider as belonging  to a class of  moral  phenomena
  so numerous,  and carrying on  its face such marks  cs 
29h
  genuine simplicity, tha* I am compelled  to  admit the
  reality of its existence,
    True it is, that every substance has its shadow, and
  that upon every subject which is  presented to the  ob-
  servation af man there is the appearance  distinct  from
  the reality of truth, requiring the most acute and patient
  investigation to  discriminate  between them.  This is
  proven by the various and contradictory systems formed
  by learned and able men, from what appeared to them
  accurate observations of natural phenomena ;  and  like-
  wise by their differences  of opinion as to the facts of
  the appearances  themselves, Equally  true it is, that,
  superadded to this fruitful source of involuntary error,
  the depravity of human nature produces counterfeits of
  almost every good thing, from motives almost as various
  as the shapes they assume.  But, what then ? mustwr
 for fear of deception, reject all appearances :  condemn
 every thing extraordinary, upon slight examination: or
 cease to investigate ? Or shall we not, rather, redouble
 our industry  and circumspection, keeping  our judg-
 ments alike unbiassed by  sanguine predilection  and'
 sceptical prejudice ? remembering, that the best estab-
 lished facts, and least questionable systems,  have be-
 come such only by the concurrence of numerous obser
 vations; sometimes the effect of accident,  sometimes of
 patient investigation ;  and  that very  many  of these
 tilings which we admit to be facts, are so admitted, not
 because we  can account for, or even understand them,
 but merely that, being  common, they have become
familiar.
   I ^.s amongst those who, from  representations pre* 
295
 riously made of her, were  unfavourably impressed as
 to  the  motives, or  sincerity, of Miss Rachel Baker.
 But,  the subject being neither  new  nor astonishing to
me, I determined to investigate this particular case, as
 I had done others, as free from  prejudice as  possible,
 and to judge for myself.  I saw her three times; once
 in her serious waking moments, and twice in her preter-
 natural state of somnium ; and had  thence a good  op-
 portunity of  estimating the  comparative acuteness and
 readiness of her faculties in  those different states; a test
 which I deemed of no slight importance ; especially as,
 in her waking state, by attacking her peculiar tenets in
 religion, I purposely provoked her  to  defend  them,
 with  as much  earnestness as her diffidence would per-
 mit.  Besides which, I m.ide inquiries of those best
 acquainted with her, rr.s;tpf,tjnf; her temper, disposition,
 and habits;  her means of religious instruction, &c. sad
 the character  of her parents ; of which  particulars I
 received  information, which agrees with the  detailed
 narratives of creditable and respectable  persons which
 I have  seen, and which I  understand are  to make a
 part  of  your publication upon her case.   The result
 of this inquiry and investigation, in my mind, was briefly
 this :   That  all that  Rachel expresses in her state of
somniloquism,  is the result of preconceived ideas and
opinions, hid delivered with a readiness and a fluency
which is very far above  her waking state ;  that in the
vv hole of her  nightly  exercise, there is. an earnestness
and a warmth, not  easily  counterfeited;  that when
awake, sh? has an unaffected repugnance to these exhi-
bitions,  of which her friends inform her,  but of which 
296
 she has ho recollection, and a real diffidence, both of her
 information and her abilities to display it.  To this I
 might add,  what I believe to be fact, because informed
 of it by the friends  around her, whose characters,  and
 disinterested generosity to her, put them above  suspi-
 cion, but what I should have laid no stress upon,  if it
 had stood alone ; that the last night that I heard  heT
 prayer and exhortation, she had no knowledge  that
 any person whatever  would be present;  and that she
 constantly hid the  same exercises,  whether strangers
 attended or not.
   So much as to this particular case: But  as  to the
 clas« to which it belongs, there are so many, and they
 are so well authenticated, that, at no distant time,  it  will
 probably  be deemed a less proof of weakness and  cre-
 dulity to  admit thom ae they etand, than to receive the
 whimsical and contradictory attempts  of sceptical in-
 credulity to explain them away,  or to resolve  them
into sinister and unworthy motives.
                                 F. FAIRFAX.
FINIS 
CONTENTS
'indication,                               "                     3
Introduction,                                                   5
Letter from Dr. John H. Douglass to Mr  Ezekiel Baker on the sub-
  jecl of his daughter Rachel,                                  11
Letter from  Elder David  Ratlibone, of the Baptist Church, in  the
  town  of Scipio,  Cayuga  county, to  Dr. Douglass, containing  the
  history  of Miss Baker, and  particularly  the origin and progress of
  her devotional exercises,                                      13
An inquiry into that  condition of the human faculties which is  inter-
  mediate between  sleeping and  waking,  by Samuel  L. Mitchill,
  M. 13. k P.                                                 25
Definition of Somnium,                                         27
Address to Medical and Moral Philosophers,                    28
Classification of the phenomena of Somnium,                      29
Symptomatic Somnium, arranged under fifteen heads or species,    29
ldiophatic Somnium, disposed  in  eight different forms  or. modifica-
   tions,                                                      32
The religious Somnium of Rachel Baker medically considered,      35
Difference between her somnial and waking thought*              41
Analogy  between  her disease and other iutermiUents          43, 44
Somnial preaching and  p;a\ ing practised by Job Cooper,          49
Staii'iuv.ii of Job  {>.opo;'s soroir .'  devotion about forty years ago, in
   Buck'-county, Pennsylvania. By .viuiew  Ellicot  Fsq. Piofessor
   of Natural Philosophy in the Military \cadeiny at West-Point, frc. 50
 niustration of thv* Somnium  which sometimes accompanies exMeroe
   bodily  debility, by the case of the late Rev. Dr. Tennent, in New-
   Jersey,  from Ferrand's Evangelical Intelligencer,              56
Illustration of Somnium with walking,  or Somnambulism, by the case
   of Cyrillo Padavino, who w>'.s an honest man when awake, but a per-
   il ■:! rator of robbery and sacrilege when in his  fits of Somnium.  By
   tie celebrated Dr.  Goldsmith,                                65
Fliii^i ration of Somnium with  mistaken  impressions on theorgansof
   hearing and of sight,  by  the case of A. B. a very respectable gentle-
   man of the editors' acquaintance,                             72
Application of the doctrine of the association of ideas, to explain  the
    Phenomena of dreaming.   By Duga!d Steward, Professor of Moral
    liilosophy in the University of Edinburgh,  £c                  7.'
The dci!:iiii  l and  descrip'ion  of  Dreaming, Nightmare  Somnambu-
  lism,  and  Illusions.   By Benjtmin Rush, M.  D. late  Professor of
  the Practice of Physic, in the University of Pennsylvania &c.    106
Thoughts concerning dreams.   By Joseph Priestly, LL. D. #c. writ r-n
  in 1301,  after his arrival in America,                           116
The case of Joseph Payne, a boy in England, who  in the year 1760
  preached in paroxysms of Somnium,                           125
A sermon delivered by Joseph Payne at Reading, as written in short
  hand  at ihe lime by Mr. Hooper, and published in the 30th volume
  of the G.mtleraim's Magazine.                                128
Lngenioi!:  miJ edifyiug considerations on Dreams.   By Joseph Addison.
  Esq   From the  Spectator,                                    150
n?".si.rnt>ou of Somnium with activity, by the case of a woman who rose 
 298                   <  ONTEN'TS.


   Trim a «'.rV beu, and walked to the sea shorr, to pvanmie a wiialc, 15b
 .ilusti. tion frimi the case of Colonel James (iardiner, as suited by 1'.
   Doddridge, ]).  D.                                           Ifil
 ",.ecu!., tions  on the condition of the Brain and  Organs of Sense, dur-
   i'l'I i!ic existence of Dreams.  Communicated to the London Univer-
   sal Magazine, by Clio Rickman, 1810,                        1C7
 A Case of Somnium, attended with some very singular rlrcuni^tartcc'-.
   such as taking food, performing calculations in aiitiiiwtir, &c. Pom
   from hi? own knowledge of  !he young man who was the subject of "f,
   by Goold Brown, Esq. of New-York,                          171
 ^References to various other remarkable  examples of Somnium, :s they
   are recorded in books.  uuch as that of Lord Lyttleton, etc.      17!!
 Devotional excuse  of Miss Baker, performed during iier  unconscious
   state, in the city of New-York, at various times during the month
   of February,  ioI5, correctly written in  shorthand as they  were
  -"Hen.                                                      180
 The first exercise,  consisting of a supplication  to the Supreme Bein>*,
  an exhortation  to a  human  audience, and a  cltsin^  prpyer, I, iter-
  spersed with the answers she made to various queric!Tput to her dur-
  ing the paroxysm,                                            !<:j
 The second  exercise, of prayer, sermonizing,  and replies, to que -
  tions,                                                      j97
 The third exerciee, consisting of similar parts and topics,          212
 The fourth cxeici-e; substantially Lie the  rest in its beginning and
  progress,                                                   o'l't
The fifth exercise,                                             241!
The sixth exercise,                                             2./3
The sever; [i<. exerrise,                                          270
Letter from F. Fairfax, Esq. to the editors,                      2:U
                           ERRATA.

  The Printer has to apologise for an error in paging this work.
—The reader v/ill find page 150 instead of  140.—There is nc
loss of matter ; there are the same number of pages in this, p.*
rft tbe first edition.
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