because it is slave-grown cotton. It does not seem
consistent to buy it; and yet I don't know what to
recommend.

_9th Mo. 30th_. Another month is at an end. Oh
that I knew whereabouts I stand in the race! "'Tis
a point I long to know." Sometimes I have joy of
heart, and then I tremble lest it be not rightly
founded; sometimes tenderness of heart, and then
I fear it is only natural feeling; sometimes fervent
desires after good, and then I fear lest they are only
the result of fear of punishment; sometimes trust in
the merits of Jesus, and can look to Him as a sacrifice
for sin; then I fear lest it is only as an escape
from danger, not deliverance from present corruption;
sometimes wish to fulfil actively my duties, then
these same duties have stolen away my heart. Oh,
how do I get cumbered with cares and many things,
entangled with perplexity, or elated with cheer! I
think I have honestly wished to be fed with convenient
food. Oh to be at the end of the race, or so
near it as dear E. Stephens, by whose bed of pain
and joy I could not but mingle tears. But why
thus? Surely, O Lord, Thou hast heard the desire
of thy poor creature. Thy help must have been
with me when I knew it not, or life had been quite
extinct ere now. Extinct it _is_ not; and for this will
I bless Thee, even that I am not yet cast out as an
abominable branch, though so unfruitful. I fear it
can be only by much tribulation that the enemy of