BV 1561 Sfar ■ _^ ^ ■_ . ^,jf^0it;rtw$^; SCENES HOP-GARDENS, vssyis LONDON: SMITH, ELDER, & CO., CORNHILL. 1838. Mr LONDON : JOSEPH RICKERBY, PRINTER, SHERBOURN LANE. CONTENTS. Page Introduction 1 Interview with Mrs. Sidney ... 9 The Schoolmistress 31 The Talking Professors .... 52 The Independent Widow . . . .75 A Prudent Mother and Gifted Son . 98 The Spinster ...... 129 A Storm — Mrs. Catty — Mrs. Hall . 161 Family Religion 191 The Dying Father . . ' . . . 206 Conclusion 225 SCENES HOP GAEDENS. CHAPTER I. INTRODUCTION. In the autumn of 1833, I was called on to visit a beloved aunt residing in Sussex, about ten miles from the coast. My par- ticular object was to supply the place of a cousin, whose weak state of health would no longer allow her to render those little attentions which the advanced age and in- creasing infirmities of our near and dear relative required. On arriving at Melbourne, I spent my leisure hours in visiting the labouring classes; B 2 INTRODUCTION. an employment which from early years has proved to me a source both of interest and improvement. The peasantry received me gladly. I found myself at once admitted to their confidence, from the exertions which my gentle and amiable cousin had been making for their moral and religious im- provement. The village of M is favoured with an active and energetic clergyman ; one, who from love of the ministerial work, had quitted the studious ease and learned leisure, which a fellowship in the University of Oxford afforded, that he might consecrate all his energies to his Master's service, in the cure of a secluded country parish. The resident gentry were well disposed to second their pastor in all his plans for promoting the cause of true religion. The farmers, in general, were liberal and considerate in their behaviour to their labourers. These particulars I learnt before my ar- rival in Sussex. Deeply, then, was I grieved to find, that under the neglect of a previous incumbent, a spirit of division had crept in, INTRODUCTION. 3 and the poor were, in very many instances, much more inclined to criticise and find fault with their minister, than to receive his in- structions with humility and meekness. Mr. Douglas, on undertaking the charge of the parish, found there three chapels, occupied by Methodists, High-Baptists, and Unita- rians. The congregation of the former de- nomination gladly hailed the arrival of one, who in life and doctrine, in conduct and conversation, was all that the founder of Methodism would have desired. But the other two appeared to redouble then ex- ertions, hoping to oppose the effectual work- ing of the Established Church, by envious misconstruction on the one hand, and the blindness of heresy on the other. But Mr. Douglas was prepared for oppo- sition ; he withstood the adversaries with Christian forbearance of spirit, united to an uncompromising firmness of principle. With steady determination of purpose, and blandness of demeanour, he kept the even tenor of his way, unmoved by the ignorance and ill-will of his opponents. He sought b 2 4 INTRODUCTION. to make his people in love with the gospel : and by a full and frequent statement of plain truth, with a close application to the hearts of his hearers, he met with no little success in his work. During my residence at M , I kept a a full and particular journal of daily events and conversations, with my own reflections upon the various scenes and characters that passed under my notice. From this, and my frequent letters to the various members of my own family, this work has been com- piled, on the recommendation of some who thought that these pictures of rural life, in the hop-gardens, might not be devoid of in- terest to the general reader. It seems almost unnecessary to add, that none of these scenes, characters, or conversations are ima- ginary. My object has not been to write a tale for amusement, but to awaken in the minds of all, greater interest in the welfare of the humbler classes, as well as to direct the attention of the poor to points of plain and practical importance. Here let me mention the pleasure and sa- INTRODUCTION. tisfaction I have uniformly derived from con- versing with the poor, who come under my notice. To administer in any degree to the happiness of those who are doomed, as by an irreversible decree, to eat their bread in the sweat of their brow, can never be lightly esteemed by the philanthropist. Of this service no one is incapable ; as the poor are more deeply affected by the kindly expres- sion of sympathy, than by the costly presents of the wealthy. If, then, the well-wisher of his species is bound to alleviate the condition of those, who, from human gradations, are called infe- riors, how much more is it the duty of a Chris- tian philanthropist? When he goes forth into the field to glean ears of wheat, how anxious should he be to speak a word in season to those who often are bowed down by toil of body, and heart-wearing anguish of spirit. If we look at this work in a higher point of view, and consider how we are thus pri- vileged to speak for God, permitted to pro- mote his glory, and show forth his praise, O INTRODUCTION. surely we cannot but be thankful that so blessed a talent is committed to our charge. At times we may feel this duty too heavy for us ; let us then plead the promise, "I will be with thy mouth." The same omnipotent Being, who controls the proud waves of the ocean by the word " Hitherto shalt thou come and no further," has also ordained that the " little springs" which run among the hills, should take their " rise in the valleys." Shall we not, then, believe that his Holy Spirit may visit the mind through the me- dium of the very weakest instrument ? But is it a matter of regret that our time, our talents, our opportunities are so limited that we can do very little for God ? Oh ! we must not be discouraged. Our Saviour is well pleased with the widow's two mites; and He, "who cannot lie," assures us that a cup of cold water given in His name, and from love to Him, to the meanest of his fol- lowers, shall not go unrewarded. And what could any human creature, be he the richest, noblest, best, or most exalted person in the world, do more than present, as it were, a cup INTRODUCTION. 7 of water to that glorious Being, who " taketh up the isles as a little thing ? " " What can our poverty bestow, When all the worlds are thine?" The king on his throne can render no ser- vice that will be more acceptable to the King of kings, than that of the meanest peasant, who earns his daily bread by daily toil ; but yet blesses God, " and builds his hope in heaven." If, then, we be sons of God, we shall love to seek the spiritual welfare of God's chil- dren. If we are of His family, we must love and desire the liajjpiness of all the mem- bers of that family. Whilst we have time, let us seek to do good unto all men, espe- cially to those of our poorer brethren among whom we can gain access, knowing that they were redeemed at the same great price as ourselves, " However of us light esteemed. And were they not, yet since that loving Lord Commanded us to love them for His sake, Even for his sake, and for his sacred word, O INTRODUCTION. Which in his last bequest he to us spake, We should them love, and with their needs partake : Knowing that, whatsoe'er to them we give, We give to Him by whom we all do live." Spenser. CHAPTER II. INTERVIEW WITH MRS. SIDNEY. I do not know any rural scene which is so captivating to the eye of a stranger as the hop-picking. There is so much of beauty and gracefulness in the form of the plant — such rich variety of colouring — such elegant and profuse negligence in the festoon-like bunches. The character of the scenery in those counties where hops are general, adds much to the beauty of the picture ; but yet, after all, the chief interest, I conceive, is to be found in the living scene : — the former can be described by the painter ; the latter surpasses description. If, however, it be true, that " Our feelings give the tone To whatsoe'er we gaze upon," 10 AUTUMNAL we need not be surprised that the scenes of autumn should have so strong a hold upon our affections : it may easily be re- ferred to that feeling in the mind which in- duces (I had almost said obliges) us to love most tenderly the last of anything. Madame de Stael says, " that of all the phrases peculiar to the many different lan- guages with which she was acquainted, none had ever met her eye, or sounded on her ear half so soothing, touching, and ten- der, as the simple couplet, no more." With- out discussing the truth of this assertion with regard to English and foreign phrases. I will only remark, that the sentiment cor- responding to this verbal expression is most affecting. How touching is the thought, that we are looking on any object for the last time ! that we shall see the home of our youth, the companions and associates of our riper years, the friends and relations dearer to us than our own selves, no more ! Nor is this idea novel or peculiar. We meet with it in Holy Writ. When the great apostle, St. Paul, was called upon to bid a last fare- ASSOCIATIONS. 11 well to his followers at Ephesus, we read " they all wept sore," " sorrowing most of all for the w^ords that he spake ;" — not that bonds and imprisonments awaited him, but " sorrowing most of all, that they should see his face no more." Thus, there is a tenderness in autumn (the " no more" season of the year) which comes home to the heart. Spring is the most joyous season to the young, the buoyant, the light-hearted ; but autumn speaks in a pecu- liar manner to the feelings of all who have had experience of the emptiness of life, and who have tasted of the cup of sorrow. The deep silence of the autumnal morn- ing ; the finished work of the reaper ; the plaintive lay of the robin ; the soft radiance of glowing light, which is reflected from the rich foliage of the many-coloured woods — all these images of beauty are affecting, in- asmuch as they are preludes of decay, of winter, of death ; but, though affecting and deeply impressive, they are not distressing, and these symptoms of decay need not make us either gloomy or dispirited. On the con- 12 INTERVIEW WITH trary, if our hearts and affections are in heaven, our exulting reply to these mute emblems of the mortality of life will be, " I would not live always !" " Ever the richest, tend'rest glow Sits round the autumnal sun ; But there sight fails — no heart can know The bliss when life is done." One afternoon, before I knew many of the walks and gardens in the parish which is the scene of my narrative, I wandered up hills, through groves, down lanes, and across rivulets, until I was quite at a loss to con- ceive where I was, or how I should retrace my steps. At last I entered a small enclosure, skirted on three sides by a thick wood, and on the fourth by a running stream, from the opposite banks of which rose a beautiful greensward hill. Having crossed the field, my progress was stopped by a ditch ; and I paused to consider whether it were possi- ble to force a passage through the long- grass, and, above all, the snaky looking soil of the wood ; when, all at once, sounds of MRS. SIDNEY. 13 singing, soft melodious singing, broke on my ear. It was the Evening Hymn. In my de- sire to discover whence the sounds pro- ceeded, I forgot all my fears, and in defiance of brambles, brushwood, and the much- dreaded snakes, I forced my way through the thicket, when a most interesting sight presented itself. The group was one which either Wilkie or Reynolds might have longed to sketch, and 1 fear no description can do justice to so pleasing a picture. So neat was their dress, so actively were their hands em- ployed in picking from the laded poles, so sweet were their voices, and so devoutly did they chant their tribute of prayer and praise, that no spectator could help being deeply interested. Mrs. Sidney (as I shall name the mother of the family) was a tall, fine figure, with regular and rather handsome features ; her eyes and hair were very dark, with a complexion of the clearest white. There was an expression of anxiety mingled with great exhaustion, which made me think her very unequal to the laborious task in which I found her engaged. Three little 14 INTERVIEW WITH girls were at a separate stand : they had their mother's fine features without her transparent complexion. I was not many minutes in making these observations, when my atten- tion was drawn towards a girl whose face had been concealed by the bind. She was a lovely child ; and I have seldom seen, in members of the same family, so complete a contrast as the blue eyes, flaxen hair, fragile form, and delicate features of this little fairy, presented by the side of her more robust- looking sisters. From her extreme simplicity and childlike expression of countenance, I should have taken her for about seven years old, but her height was that of eleven or twelve. The bloom which tinged her pale cheek was far too beautiful to be healthy; and as I gazed on the deceitful blush I could nor repress a sigh, as the thought crossed my mind, that ere long the loath- some worm might be feeding sweetly on this lovely form. After they had finished their hymn, 1 ad- vanced, and told Mrs. Sidney how much I had enjoyed their singing, and that I hoped MRS. SIDNEY. 15 my presence would not prevent them from continuing. With great politeness and propriety of language, rarely met with in a hop-garden, Mrs. Sidney assured me that they had finished their last hymn, as they were about to return home ; adding, " I think I have the pleasure of addressing Miss M. Your cousin is a very "kind and dear friend of ours/' " Oh, do you know my cousin ? You are right : I have come to see if I can supply her place to my aunt." " And I hope Miss L. is better for the change. Have you heard from her lately ? " " Only once since they reached Penzance. She was then much fatigued with the journey, and, of course, there can be no material im- provement, until she recovers from the effects of it. She wrote a few lines in good spirits ; but I own, I fear she will never thoroughly recover." " No, I fear not : and she is so loved here ! but this is almost a new scene to you, is it not ?" " Quite so : I never saw any hops ga- 1() INTERVIEW WITH thered before. But you are alone : are there no more pickers in this garden ?" "Yes;" said she, with some hesitation, " there are many more. Mr. Smith employs more pickers than any other proprietor in the parish." " But, of course, you prefer picking- alone ?" When I looked into Mrs. Sidney's eyes, after making the last observation, I felt sorry I had made it ; for whilst awaiting her reply, I was much impressed with her calm and dignified superiority over the better class of pickers ; and there was a reserved expres- sion which excited my curiosity to learn her circumstances. But as I did not expect to have my desire gratified at once, I turn- ed to the pretty child, whose name was Phoebe, and, after praising her industry, I asked her how old she was, and how often she had picked those sweet-smelling hops. " I am just ten, but I never picked before this season." " And do you go to school ? " MES. SIDNEY. 17 " Yes, nia'ani, on Sunday, when Miss L. was here ; but our mother teaches us at home in the week." " And have you many young compa- nions ?" " Oh, dear no ! none but sisters ; and mamma don't like us to play with other chil- dren, for they do say such sad naughty words; and, if they are picking hops by us, they laugh when we sing." " My dear Phoebe," interrupted her mo- ther; and Phoebe coloured, hung her head, and looked quite distressed at the check. But Mrs. Sidney, said with a sweet smile, " This little one will make me give my rea- sons ; but I am sure you will not ridicule them. I cannot bear my children to hear the improper conversation which goes on, when many work together. I believe they all think me unaccountably high, but I cannot help that." " I am sure you are quite right in keeping them with you, and at a distance from bad company; but they have not often picked with you, I should imagine." c 18 INTERVIEW WITH " No, I am not used to this business ;" a slight blush was here perceptible. In a low tone she continued, " This is only the second time ; but I know enough of hu- man nature, to be fully persuaded, that if I would bring up my girls as I have been brought up, it can only be by keeping them quite, quite away from the villagers." " There I agree with you ; but do you not ever associate with the better sort?" " Not often : I visit where I think I can do any good ; but I desire to have few ac- quaintances. I cannot like their gossips, and they do not like what they call my squeamishness." "What very miserable little hops these are. Do you not think so ? I have never seen poorer ones." " Perhaps you have never been to the most exposed parts of the gardens before. We seldom have better, for the other pickers plant their bins where they like, and I must either pick with them, or take the tract they see fit to leave." " And I dare say they leave the worst ; MRS. SIDNEY. 19 but I have no doubt you will have your re- ward even here, by seeing your children the children of God ; and then you will be nobly rewarded in having such a ' crown of re- joicing."' " Yes, I trust so : they are affectionate and obedient, and we endeavour to teach thern, and train them aright, and that is all we can do : we cannot change their hearts." " But you pray to that God who can re- new, sanctify, and save them ; do you not ?" " Oh, yes : I am not so unreasonable as to expect that God will give me and them those good things which I am too negligent to ask for. Without a knowledge of his goodness I should indeed despair: I have need of great faith ; the clouds are dark, but surely my Father is at the helm, and he will never leave me to sink under present future — " Her lip trembled — tears rushed into her eyes, and the sentence was left unfinished. I endeavoured to soothe her troubled spirit with some of those precious promises which c 2 20 INTERVIEW WITH have been the stay and support of the afflicted in all ages ; but finding her much overcome, I turned to the children at the other bin, and inquired their ages. Sarah was just thirteen, Marian was a year younger, and Sophia was eleven. I asked whether their father worked for Mr. Smith. " Oh ! no, ma'am, he cannot do any work ; he is very ill, and aunt says he will never get over it. He used to manage Sir Willam B.'s estates since the Duke of A. died, but he has'nt done anything at all for more than a year." " How distressing 1 but what is his com- plaint ?" " Dr. B. says he is in a consumption ; but many say it is not a decline, but something the matter with his heart." " Is he confined to his bed, and does Mr. Douglas visit him ?" " Yes, Mr. Douglas often comes ; he gets up every day for a few hours, if it is not too hot." " Well, my dear children, there is only one who can bless the means used for your MRS. SIDNEY. 21 dear father's recovery. I hope you often pray for him and for yourselves." " Oh ! yes," was the eager reply. " We have prayers in his room whenever he can bear it ; and before we kneel down by our- selves, our mother says, ( Now pray that God will cure your father, if it be his blessed will ; and, if not, to prepare us for his removal.' " " How good of God to give you such parents : how thankful you ought to be for his great mercies. Your father is not alone ?" " No, aunt Tateham is with him to-day. Mother often stays at home ; but aunt is so infirm, she cannot do this work many days in the week." I returned to Mrs. Sidney, and expressed the deep concern I felt that her husband was in so precarious a state; assuring her how glad I should be if I could be of any service to her or her family; and expressed my hope that Mr. Sidney had good medical advice, with every little comfort he might re- quire. " He has good advice ; but, oh ! Miss M., what doctor can be of much use to a patient 22 INTERVIEW WITH in the last stage of consumption ? He has everything I can procure for him." She paused, and after a little hesitation, " His appetite is very variable, and he so soon tires of what I can make, and he cannot take our food." " But why, in such a case, have you not — has not somebody told Mrs. K. of your husband's situation ? She would send him those little niceties he so much requires ; and you know how anxious she is, that all around her should be made as comfortable as possible, especially in sickness." The tears gushed from her eyes as she said, " I have asked for others : I ought to have asked for him; but I have not long- been compelled to work for subsistence ; and it is hard to beg ; besides, John would never enjoy anything if he fancied I had not paid for it." " I can perfectly enter into your feelings. It is a hard lesson to feel that we must be under obligations to our fellow-creatures ; but it may be carried too far, and then it be- comes pride ; but I shall call at the hall to- MRS. SIDNEY. 23 night, and will mention it to Mrs. K, Is your husband aware of his danger ?" " I think he is : at times he is most desir- ous to be restored to health, for the thought of leaving so large a family is a great and bitter trial to him ; and — but he is more re- signed than one could expect." " Aye ! he must feel it much; but we must remember that God will ever fulfil his pro- mises ; and says, ' I will be a father to the fatherless, a husband to the widow.' May the remembrance of his loving kindness com- fort you under every trial." " Yes ; though afflicted, I am not forsaken ; cast down, yet not destroyed;" but I so often think that this is sent as a punishment for my sin in setting my affections so much on earthly objects." " But you ought not to think this : it is calling in question the love and mercy of God. Afflictions are not, and must not be considered as judgments. On the con- trary, they are friendly warnings, used by our tender Father, to draw us more close to him. They are proofs of our adoption into 24 INTERVIEW WITH his family, — ' whom he loveth he chasteneth, as a father the son in whom he delights.' " " That is what dear John so often tells me. I know it, but I cannot realize it as I could wish. I cannot always bear it in mind." "Well, God is faithful; and he has said, 'As thy day, so shall thy strength be.' He does not promise to keep us from trial, sor- row, and suffering ; but to succour, and help us in it, and to make all things to work to- gether for our good." " Our Saviour's prayer for his disciples often cheers me, (16th St. John,) when I am most depressed ; and I do trust I shall be enabled to bow in submission to him 1 Who never has a good withheld, Or wilt withhold from me.' But we must return home. Sarah, my dear, go and ask Master Wharton if he can come and measure our hops." Sarah went on her errand, and soon re- turned, followed by a stout, hearty-looking maw, whom I recognized as leader of the MRS. SIDNEY. 25 singing at church. After touching his hat to me, he turned to Mrs. Sidney, and said : u I was just a coming, for I thought it was about your time for moving ; when do you mean to work with the other folks, and as long?" " You do not know what a fatigue it is to me to work at all. I shall be thankful when I can stay longer, but never, no, never will I pick with them." " Oh, you might keep your chicks by your side. Now, ma'am, (speaking to me) do not you think Mrs. Sidney is too scrupulous ? " " No, I do not ; I admire the care Mrs. S. takes of her children, and wish more mothers did the same. Now, if you had so many nice little girls, should you like them to run wild and be " " Ah, there's the rub," interrupted the good-tempered man, laughing. " I'm caught now. Well, I'll own," in a whisper, " if those pretty, well-behaved dears were mine, I would keep them as much in as I could, for I should be sorry they should be as bold and as rude as most others are. But, •26 INTERVIEW WITH bless me, how hard you've worked ! you've gathered more than any I have yet measured for. There's dame Mills, and her two great girls, hav'nt picked so many as you and this small-fingered lassie, (Phoebe ;) but then her tongue works faster than her hands — gabble, gabble, from six in the morning till seven or eight at night ; I declare its worse than liv- ing in the belfry under the great clock. And have you heard how thick she and old dame " " Mr. Wharton," interrupted Mrs. Sid- ney, " I really know little, and care less, about Mrs. Mills and her affairs ; you know I have enough to occupy my thoughts with- out letting them run on what does not con- cern me." "Wharton looked a " little put out" at re- ceiving this gentle intimation, but replied, in a very mild tone, " True ; I must remember you are a little what I call squeamish about such things — but how is your poor Master?" " Thank you, he has had rather a better night, but he is no stronger : he suffers little pain, but he wastes very fast." MRS. SIDNEY. 27 " Poor dear," sighed Wharton; " well, I hope yet we may see him out and about again, and if not, God bless, him ! He has no reason to fear death. I wish I could say as much for myself." " I can only answer what I have so often told you, ' Life is the time to serve the Lord.' This is the day given by God for this pur- pose; it is short indeed, compared with eternity, but quite long enough if we are in earnest in our religion." " It is very well for you, who have been good all your life, to talk so ; I have so many things to see after, it is quite impossible for me always to do as I wish. But good afternoon : remember me to Mr. Sidney, and tell him he must not forget me, for nobody can be the worse for his prayers ;" and the measurer left. " Poor Wharton ! he has a tender heart, and I hope well of him. His kind way of showing his sympathy is often very touching. He is much attached to my poor dear husband — but, alas! he is anxious to die the death, without aiming to live the life 28 INTERVIEW WITH of the righteous. But we must go : Sarah, take the baby's cot, and the other things you must divide among you: good evening! Your cousin used often to come and see me before she became so ill, and we shall be glad to see you if you are disposed to fa- vour us with a call ; and I am sure John will be pleased to meet with any Christian fiiend, more especially a cousin of Miss L's. We live in the cottage at the foot of the hill, in the lane leading to Everton." " Oh, yes ! depend upon it I will call as soon as possible ; and may God be with you, and strengthen you for every event that lies before you." After their departure I stood some minutes musing upon this pleasant interview, and wondering what circumstances had thus re- duced one so evidently above the common rank, to her present state of poverty. With- out stopping to talk to any other pickers, I hastened through the garden, and after walk- ing for nearly a mile along the high-road, I reached the hall, or great house, as it was called. MRS. SIDNEY. 29 Mrs. K. was at home : and after a little conversation on general topics, I related the particulars of my interview with Mrs. Sid- ney — the favourable impression her refined appearance and lady-like manners were cal- culated to make on the mind of a stranger — her easy and excellent conversation — her care of her children; and then inquired whether Mrs. K. knew any thing of them. But no ; my friend could throw little light upon their previous history. Mrs. S. had twice called upon her to mention some cases of distress which were relieved in consequence of her kind representation. Mrs. K. had that morning been informed by Mr. Douglas that there was no hope of Mr. Sidney's re- covering, and of his fear that they were suf- fering from concealed poverty, and had sent fruit and other delicacies for the invalid, be- fore I had an opportunity of mentioning how acceptable these attentions would be. " If you want to know what I hear about them from the gossips, I must tell you, that Mrs. Sidney is said to be very haughty — has come of a high family — but has dis- 30 INTERVIEW WITH MRS. SIDNEY. pleased her friends by marrying beneath her. By those who take their cue from these, she is rather feared than admired ; but as her skill in dress-making, and her taste in millinery are of a high order, and her charges very mode- rate, most of them endeavour to conciliate her esteem, in order to secure to their per- sons the work of her lady-like fingers. They are both universally respected ; and he is in manners, appearance, and education, a gen- tleman ; but there is a veil of mystery over their circumstances which we have not pene- trated. Indeed, until lately, Mr. Douglas has known no more of them than ourselves ; but now, he says, he can fully account for Mrs. Sidney's extreme reserve, and her husband's great depression." 31 CHAPTER III. THE SCHOOLMISTRESS. As I returned from my friend's house I could not help thinking, with peculiar pleasure, on the inestimable blessings conferred on a parish where the resident gentry are pious and consistent characters, possessing not only the liberal soul to devise, but the means of carrying their generous intentions into effect. Influence alone, divested of rank, wealth, and learning, is a talent of immense and uni- versal extent. There are few so insignificant as not to have their own circle, be it large or small, made better or worse by their so- ciety, their conduct, their counsels. I be- lieve it is generally conceded that the female possesses the talent of influence to the great- est degree. If it be so, and I do not ques- 32 MRS. HALL. tion the truth of the statement, how careful should she be in the exercise of this faculty ! for on her depends the well-being, virtue, and happiness of many. Oh ! it is a pleasant, a joyful sight, when we behold learning and wealth, with the amazing influence which these confer, dedicated to the glory of God, and used for the temporal and spiritual wel- fare of mankind. Happy are the people that are in such a case ! Blessed are the people whose God is the Lord ! At the foot of the hill, within five minutes walk of my aunt's residence, lived a widow who had recently buried her only child, a daughter aged three-and-twenty. Mrs. Hall had received a good plain edu- cation, and was well informed on ordinary subjects. Indeed, she had read much more than is usual for persons in her station of life. Mr. Douglas found her a most efficient helper in the parish, as mistress of the Sim- day-schools. Her qualifications for instruct- ing the young were remarkable ; her patience with the stupid and stubborn was inexhausti- ble ; her zeal and diligence unwearied. MRS. HALL. S3 As she resided near my own house I fre- quently called upon her the last thing in the evening ; on the present occasion, I found her at her usual work, binding shoes, with her large Bible and Hymn-book lying open on the table before her. Her aged eyes glistened with pleasure as she placed a chair for me. " Well, my good friend, how are you to- day ?" " Why, thank you ma'am, pretty much as usual : always better than I expected. But I can't get on with my work now : I don't do half what I should now 1 am so lonely." " I dare say not ; but you have a compa- nion in that blessed book before you, and many precious promises to meditate upon." " I have, I have ; thank God for it ! What should I do without them, and those sweet hymns in the book you gave me ? I found one to-day that I should like you to read if it is not troubling you." I accordingly read that hymn of New ton's, " Rejoice, believer, in the Lord." " Thank you, thank you ; that suits me : — D 34 CONSOLATION FOR ' "Weak as you are, you shall not faint,' &c. But my memory troubles me so. I should have known it all by this time, but for my last trouble : I have read it three times." " Why, your memory must have been good !" " Oh, yes, it was : it's past now ; but, to this day, I can recollect the sermons I heard twenty years ago, more perfectly than those I have heard within the last three months, and this does trouble me so. When my poor dear child w^as able to work, she used to sit in that chair next you, and — yes, there — that was her chair. We used to talk over what the dear minister said. She used to repeat the ending best ; and I could tell her the beginning; and we used to read the Psalms and lessons every day. But she's gone, and I am all alone." " Do you remember what David said, ' I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me?' Perhaps, you can say with St. Paul, * Sorrowful, yet always rejoicing.'" " Oh! indeed I can; I do rejoice in the Lord, when I look back and see how gra- THE BEREAVED. 35 ciously he has helped me on in times past. I feel I can praise himfor all that is past, and trust him for all that's to come. Now, last winter, I was so undone, because I saw dear Lizzy would not recover, and I went heavily for a long time ; but, at last, I found out I must walk by faith, for I could'nt walk at all by sight ; and, after I made up my mind to trust it all to the Lord, I felt more resigned." " Then you experienced the truth of that promise, which says, ' Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on thee, because he trusteth in thee.'" " Yes, indeed I did ; and I often thank God that she was taken first, and I spared. Poor thing, she was not fit for this life : she was so simple and ignorant of the ways of the world, and so dependent on me: and she always took so to good books and pious people, that I felt in the midst of my dis- tress, i It is all right ; she has been long training for heaven.' Her only sorrow was, that her poor mother would be left alone." " What a blessed hope you have ! St. Paul calls it ' the anchor of the soul, sure and d 2 36 the mourner's hope. steadfast.' What a delightful meeting it will be for you ! Do you remember the hymn I brought to the children on Sunday week ?" " Oh, yes ! ' Here we suffer grief and pain ; Here we meet to part again : In heaven we part no more.' Ah, that will be joyful, joyful ! and then the crown — the eternal and exceeding weight of glory ! What a thing for a poor sinner like me !" " Thanks be to God for His unspeakable gift ! but I must go now, though I should like to hear more of your Elizabeth." " Thank you kindly for this little visit. Good bye; and I hope to see you again soon." Here, thought I, is one whose condition is truly enviable. What, multitudes are there clothed in purple and fine linen, revelling in the luxuries of this life, who might long for the humble faith and holy expectation of unseen joys which this devout Christian pos- sesses ! Some might think her loquacious; I THE MOURNER'S HOPE. 37 never did. She was no busybody in other men's matter ; she was no gossip, and no boaster of her own good deeds : but she was one who felt the love of Christ constraining her to promote, as far as lay in her power, the good of her fellow-creatures ; and she could not refrain from telling others what great things God had done for her. What inconsistencies do we meet with in men of the world ! The physician and the lawyer may discuss various methods and divers systems and knotty points, in the tech- nical phraseology peculiar to their respective professions ; the mathematician may dilate on the certainties of his branch of science, and the metaphysician on the uncertainties of his theories ; the astronomer may specu- late on the motion of the heavenly bodies, and the geologist may prove That He who made the world, and told its date To Moses, was mistaken in its age ; the musician may talk of sounds and sym- phonies, of crotchets and quavers ; and the painter may engross the conversation of the 38 INCONSISTENCY IN evening, although not one-half of his audi- tors have any idea of the distinctive merits of the great masters ; and the rules of politeness require that concessions should be made to such, because they are so interested and so absorbed in their respective pur- suit; but is ever such indulgence extended to one who feels the vital importance of Chris- tian truth, and who speaks out of the abund- ance of his heart ? Oh, no ; such an one must cultivate a strict and prudential silence on the subject most dear to his feelings. We may talk of any laws but the commands of God ; of any disease and its cure, but the disease of sin, and its remedy ; of any theo- ries, but the reality of the world to come, and the worth of the soul ; of any melody, but the music of well-tuned affections ; of any paintings, but the pictures of that new heaven wherein dwelleth righteousness. If, then, the profession of religion is the only one to which no indulgence is shown, and with which no sympathy is accorded; if the friendship of the world is enmity with God, and there be a strong prin- THE WORLD. 39 ciple of assimilation which seeks to com- bine the world and the heart together ; surely it becomes Christians to be much on their guard whilst mixing in worldly society, and to decline it as much as is consistent with a proper discharge of the duties and courtesies of life. The bark of our profession is not in danger of sinking, because it is in the water ; but if the water steals into the vessel, there is little hope of saving it from destruction. The following afternoon I started in order to visit the cottage of my new friend, Mrs. Sidney. It was situated about a mile and a half from our house : the road lay through fields and hop-gardens, in a westerly direc- tion, and, as I anticipated, conducted me into the lane leading to Everton, just opposite the house I wished to visit. This was a pic- turesque-looking cottage, and could not fail of attracting the notice of the spectator, by the air of neatness and comfort which reigned around. The trellised porch, the walls, windows, and roof covered with a profusion of roses, jessamine, and clematis, 40 VISIT TO loading the breeze with a delicious perfume. The garden in front, laid out with great taste, and resplendant with the many-coloured dahlia and China-aster, all betokened that the owners had done much to improve the beauty of the spot, and had succeeded. Mrs. Tateham opened the door, and ush- ered me into a large and neatly- furnished room. There was a well-filled book-case at the -end ; a well-filled work-basket, and a few choice volumes on the table. The walls were decorated with sundry pictures in a superior style of execution, with the initials H. A. N. in the corner ; chiefly pencilled heads and landscapes. There was one fine oil painting, of a clergyman in clerical costume, and I thought I could trace many of Mrs. Sidney's features in the fine and noble countenance : (it was meant for her father, and considered a speaking likeness.) But to complete the cheerfulness of the room, there were flowers, fresh lovely flowers, in a vase on the mantel-shelf, and a stand full of happy-looking bright-eyed geraniums, and other pet nurslings by the window. IVY COTTAGE. 41 Mrs. Tateham told me that Mr. Sidney had passed a wretched night, and had just fallen asleep. She hoped that I was not in a hurry, as she had no doubt he would soon awake. After a little general conversation, Mrs. T. gave me the following account of Mrs Sidney. " Harriet Anne was the only surviving daughter of a clergyman, the vicar of a small living in the south of Devonshire. Her father was, like many other excellent ministers of our establishment, considered by a large circle of acquaintance to be am- ply provided for, when his name appeared in the newspaper as presented with the living of W — . This preferment yielded but ninety pounds a year ; but the prospect of labouring successfully in his Master's ser- vice oughtweighed every pecuniary consi- deration. He possessed in a peculiar de- gree the continual feast of a contented mind. 6 For myself,' (he would say,) 4 I am sa- tisfied with the daily bread which God pro- mises to supply ; and if at any time my expenses should much increase, I am 42 mrs. Sidney's persuaded there will be a corresponding increase of means. Whilst I seek first the kingdom of God, and acknowledge him in all my ways, and take every prudent precau- tion, I cannot doubt that He will direct, sanctify, and bless me and mine.' " He married, and ever found in his wife a prudent counsellor, a pious and judicious co- adjutor, and a cheerful, affectionate, and sym- pathizing helpmeet. They lost several chil- dren in infancy ; and as only Harriet was left to them, it was their greatest care to give her a solid and useful education. They brought her to Christ in baptism ; they prayed over her, and watched over her with the most vigilant affection. They foresaw that her personal attractions would be great, and might prove a snare to her ; and they impressed upon her that ' favour is deceit- ful, and beauty vain :' the perplexing visions and fleeting allurements of this life were thrust far away, and the Saviour was shown in his true light, as the only refuge of es- cape from the storms and trials of a sinful and troublesome world. And they did not HISTORY. 43 labour in vain: — at the age of fourteen Har- riet followed her mother to the grave, and was then the everything — the sole earthly prop of her dear father. At the age of one-and- twenty she married. Mr. Sidney was at that time steward to the Duke of A , and in the receipt of a good income. Five years after, Mrs. Sidney was called upon to resign her venerable, her excellent father ; and they were obliged to remove from the village. It being quite immaterial, with regard to John's business, where they resided, they came to Melbourne, to a house which belonged to him, but which he had usually let as a summer residence. About three or four years after this change, they were visited with a heavy affliction ; their eldest child, a sweet little girl named Phoebe, died most happily, at the age of seven, after a short illness. The next trial was one of income. On the death of the duke, John was thrown out of employment, and was obliged to take a much lower salary, in the capacity of bailiff and foreman to a country gentleman. At the same time Mrs. Sidney 44 mrs. Sidney's commenced dress-making and millinery, and for seven years they had lived comfort- ably ; but sickness, and the attendant ex- penses, had so reduced their slender pit- tance, that they were now obliged to work by day out of doors in the gardens, and by night at their needles, if they would avoid running in debt." As soon as Mrs. Tateham had related these particulars, she went into the other room, to see if the invalid still slept. I fol- lowed her to the entrance, and saw that this room was of the same size as the other ; but there was a French window opening on a green lawn, and commanding a beautiful view of the distant country. The walls were nicely papered, but the carpet and window-hangings evinced that this room was not much used, and the bed was only a temporary arrangement, for the comfort and convenience of the invalid and his attendants. A Bible, Prayer-book, some grapes, and a few sweet flowers were placed on a small stand near the bed. And there sat little HISTORY. 45 Phoebe; a book in her hand, but her eyes hxed on her poor father, A slight movement of mine made her turn ; and when she saw me she crept most cautiously towards me, and we went into the next room. I asked her whether she " liked staying at home or pick- ing hops best." " Oh, sitting at home much, very much better. Picking does make me so tired ! my head and all my limbs ache so : but if I am at home I can read and wait on my dear father." " And what do you read ?" " Out of the Bible to him, to father : but I like my Scripture Stories best ; they are so pretty ! There is Joseph and Samuel, and Josiah and David ; ever so many in the first part, and in the second there is the Testament Stories ; and I like so to read about a little girl in one of my mother's books." " And what is the name of it ?" " I don't know ; the little girl's name was Jane; and, oh, she was such a good child ! she did love Jesus Christ so much, 46 CONVERSATION WITH and was so eager that her mother should love him too I" " I know what book you mean : it is the Young Cottager; and I am glad you remem- ber what you read. I hope you love Jesus Christ, as little Jane did/' " O, ma'am ! I wish I did, for then he would love me, I should be sure of that." " But, Phoebe, you know Jesus does love little children : he wishes them to come to him ; and when he was on earth, you have read how he took them in his arms, put his hands on them, and blessed them." "Yes, I know that; but please, ma'am, those were good children. Now, when I am cross, or quarrelsome, my mother says God won't love naughty girls ; he can't love them." " But, my dear little one, if you do behave amiss, and are sorry for it, and ask of God, for his dear Son's sake, to help you to do better in the time to come, he will forgive and strengthen you. And you know, Phoebe, we cannot of ourselves love and serve God. What does the little catechism say?" PHCEBE. 47 " That God will help us by his Holy Spirit, if we ask him for it." " Then, my dear, pray to him to give you his Holy Spirit. Have you been reading to your father ?" " Yes, ma'am, before he went to sleep, I read the fourteenth and fifteenth of St. John, and a few verses out of the twelfth chapter of Hebrews." Mrs. Tateham here interrupted our con- versation, by telling me Mr. Sidney was still asleep, and she thought he would not awake for some time. She hoped the rest would do him good, for he had not had any for two nights ; but she was so sorry he should miss the opportunity of seeing and talking with me. " Nay, you should not feel sorry that he cannot see me ; you should be thankful for the cause. As Mr. Douglas is so con- stant a visitor, my talking with him is of less consequence- But now, is there any thing I can do for the family — do they want any thing ?" There was some hesitation in her reply, 48 CHILDLIKE which was, " No, nothing, very badly." I pressed her to mention what it was, and she confessed the doctor had said he would not rest better until they could make an al- teration in his bed : that he ought to have a chaff' mattress instead of a feather bed ; but it being " the hopping," they could not get any chaff cut for them. Harriet had sold her best silk gown, and bought the case ; but they could do no more till the picking was over, which would not be for three weeks. I promised to mention it to Mrs. K. who, I doubted not, would have it done for him in a few days. Mrs. Tateham begged I would call as often as I could ; and after exchanging a few words with the little Phoebe, I took my leave ; and as I returned home, my mind was forcibly im- pressed with those words, " Except ye be converted, and become as little chil- dren, ye shall in no wise enter into the kingdom of heaven;" for in the little Phoebe there w T as so much of the humility, simpli- city, and faith peculiar to the infant mind, HUMILITY. 49 that I could not help thinking, " How happy are these lambs of the good Shepherd's fold ! " and how gladly would many ex- change " the knowledge which puffeth up," the " wealth," which so often proves a snare, for the far more enviable lot of those con- cerning whom our Lord and Master himself assures us, " of such is the kingdom of heaven." By a very natural transition, my mind re- verted from the child to the parent, for whom I felt the deepest sympathy and the highest admiration. Here was the daughter of- a clergyman, who, it appeared, had been edu- cated (as indeed the children of the clergy usually are) with the greatest care, attention, and judgment ; one who had probably known every comfort under her father's roof that their limited income could procure ; one who had mixed in excellent society — had been looked up to as an example — had been caressed, admired, and flattered. And I would enquire, who is there, after having re- called to mind these particulars of early life ; who is there that could withhold their tri- E 50 LIVING BY bute of admiration at beholding the greatness of mind, and patient endurance, and cheer- ful resignation with which Mrs. Sidney bore her present misfortunes — compelled to la- bour with her hands in order to earn a scanty subsistence for herself, her sick hus- band, and six helpless children ? I thought too of the number of ministers in our esta- blishment who spend their whole lives in the service of the sanctuary, and of whom it is truly said, " they are the worst paid body of men in the whole community." The infidel, the Deist, the Papist, the political and the ignorant Dissenter, declaim against what they wilfully denominate " a wealthy and corrupt establishment." Let them do so ; from such open infidelity, deism, superstition, and bi- gotry our church has nothing to fear : they that are with us are more than they which are against us. And while we can look around, and behold so large a body of able and holy men, who, by their continued sacri- fice of health and strength, their exalted charity, their unrepining poverty, their un- wearied exertions for the comfort, instruction, THE ALTAR. 51 and improvement of the poor, are daily and hourly laying themselves out for the glory of God and the good of souls, we may safely affirm of the Establishment to which they belong, " God is in the midst of her ; she shall never be moved." E2 52 CHAPTER IV. THE TALKING PROFESSORS. Four days after my visit to Ivy Cottage, (the name of Mrs. Sidney's residence,) I set out at an earlier hour than usual for my daily walk. It was a lovely day : the sky was bright and sunny, without a shade or speck to dim its azure tint of blue ethereal. The turf was soft and green and mossy; the view was glowing with autumnal hues ; the odours of the delicious hops were most fragrant, and what with " The rustling breeze, so fresh and gay, That dancing forth at opening day, • And brushing by, with joyous wing, Wakened each little leaf to sing," my heart, my mind, my feelings, were all BEAUTY OF CREATION. 53 so alive to the bounties of Providence, and the loving kindness of our heavenly Father, that I was obliged to sing too : " Praise the Lord, O my soul, for his goodness is great; his compassions fail not; they are new every morning : great is his faithfulness ! " At length I entered a hop-garden ; and there, in a shady corner, I sat down and amused myself with scraping acquaintance with some merry little robins, who looked very wise, and nodded their heads, as much as to say, ' We shall know y