thy brother, come and take his horse.' I alighted and went in. He then
accosted me as he had done once before, asking, 'What are you a riding
preacher now?' I answered, 'To be sure I am; for I have ridden from
York to Seacroft, and from thence to your house.' 'Well,' said he, 'I
know you live well.' I replied, 'We do; but I have not lived so well
to day as I might have done; for I feel rather hungry.' He smiled,
and bid his daughter put on the tea kettle. We then entered into
conversation, in which he said, 'You write parables to me, for you
told me the sun was going down.' I answered, 'I did so, and my reason
for it was, I knew I had stirred up your wrath in marrying your
daughter against your mind, and was fearful lest the sun should go
down upon it.' He burst into a flood of tears, and was so melted down,
that for three hours, I was prompted both by his feelings and my own
to speak of the love of Christ to poor sinners. * * * This was a night
to be remembered as my reconciliation with Mr. Stables was at this
time effected." The understanding thus happily brought about was never
after interrupted; and Mr. Stables practically evinced the sincerity
of his feelings by securing to his daughter an annuity for life. In his
last illness, which occurred a few years later, Mr. Burdsall, by his
own request, frequently visited him, and ministered to his spiritual
wants. He died in peace on the 13th of June, 1787.

The first fruits of the union of Richard Burdsall and Mary Stables,
was Mary, the subject of the present memoir--the step-sister of the
Rev. John Burdsall, who still survives. She was born at York, without
Bootham bar, June 19th, 1782. The house which no longer exists, stood
just under the shadow of the old gateway, nearly opposite the modern
crescent, known as St. Leonard's Place.

The foregoing facts, which to some may appear superfluous, are here