Cijfap iReposttorjn THE S HEPHE1D SALISBURY PLAIN. /A parts. . Sold by HOWARD AN0 EVANS (Printers to theChem !?. • ^1N^, . and I i P L "ra' » 4 Religious Tracts, J.HATCHARD,No. i,o,P,c^™T E T S *! ,THF,El - D ' ™ d «"« by Bath. And by .7 Boo^eMe, M L ° Hd ° n B y S ' HAZARD* Tow,, and Country. DOu ^^, Newsmen, and Hawkers in, ■ is ,7 '° Sho P kee pers and Ila:^ ^"ffira at Statfaners iML THE SHEPHERD op SALISBURY PLAIN, PART I. MR. JOHNSON, a very worthy charitable gentleman, was travelling some time ago across one of those vast plains which are known in Wiltshire. It was a fine summer's evening, and he rode slowly that he might have leisure to ad. mire God in the works of his creation. For this gentleman was of opinion, that: a walk or a ride, was as proper a time, as any, to think about good Ihings, for which reason on such occasions, he sel-j dom thought so much about his money, or trade, or public news, as at other times, that k might with more ease and satisfaction enjoy the pious thoughts which the visible works of the Greal Maker of heaven and earth are intended to raise i; the mind. His attention was all of a sudden called off b?| the barking of a Shepherd's dog, and looking lie spied one of those little huts, which are heicj and there to be seen on these great Downs, and nraij it was the Shepherd himself busily employed wit!' his dog in collecting together his vast flock of sheep. As he drew nearer, he perceived him to be a clear well looking poor man, near fifty years of His coat, though at first it had probably been one dark colour, had been in a long course of ye* so often patched with different sorts of cloth, tH it was now become hard to say, which had beentk original colour. Bnt this, while it gave a pM proof of the Shepherds poverty, equally pi' oV ' the exceeding neatness, industry, apd good man*? s nientof his wife. His stockings no less proved Hen good housewifery, for they were entirely covered with darns of different colored worsted, but had not a hole in them— and his shirt, though nearly as -coarse as the sails of a ship, was as white as the drifted snow, and neatly mended where time had either made a rent or wore it trim. This is a rule of judging, by which one shall seldom be deceiv- ed. If I 'meet with a laborer, hedging, ditching, (or mending the highways] with his stockings and ft th'ht and whole, however mean and bad his ►trier garments are, I have seldom failed, on vi- i ling- his cottage, to find that also clean and well ordered, and riis wife notable and worthy of encou- ragement. Whereas a pdor woman, who will be lying a bed, or gossiping with her neighbors when Kre ought to be fitting out her husband in a cleanly manner, will seldom be found to be very good irr |pther respects, B This was not the case with our Shepherd. And plr. Johnson was not more struck with the decency ■f his mean and frugal dress, than with his open honest countenance, which bore strong marks of ■ealth, cheerfulness, end spirit. ■ Mr. Johnson, who was on a journey, and some- what fearful from the appearance of the sky, that tain was at no great distance, accosted the Shep- •rd with asking what sort of weather he thought f would be on the morrow. ' It will be such wea- rer as pleases mfe,' answered the Shepherd. > [hough the answer mk delfveVed in the mildest fd civilest tone that coald fee imagined, the gen- man thought the wc :rds themselves rather rude id surly, and asked him how that could be— < be- ise/ replied the Shepherd, * it will be such vvea- 4 . ite £s shall please God, and whatever pleases him always pleases me.' Mr. Johnson, who delighted in good men and good things, was very well satisfied with this re- ply ; for he justly thought that though an hypocrite may easily contrive to appear better than he realty Is to a stranger, and that no one should he too soon trusted, merely from having a few good words in his mouth : yet as he knew that * out of the abuni ance of the heart the mouth speaketh,' he always accustomed himself to judge favourably of those who had a serious deportment and solid manner o speaking. 'It looks as if it proceeded from a good habit,' said he, 'and though I may now and the be deceived by it, yet it has not often happened to me to be so. Whereas, if a man accosts me with an idle, dissolute, vulgar, indecent, or prophane; expression, I have never been deceived in him, but have generally, on enquiry, found his charactei to be as bad as his language gave me room toex< pect/ He entered into conversation with the Shephen in the following manner — Your's is a troublesomt life, honest friend, said he. — To be sure, Sir, re plied the Shepherd, 'tis not a very lazy life: but t| not near so toilsome as that which my Great Mas ter led for my sake, and he had every state an! condition of life at his choice, and chose a hard fl« — while I only submit to the lot that is appoint! me. You are exposed to great cold and heat, sal the gentleman. True, Sir, said the Shepherd; bf then I am not exposed to great temptations, m so throwing one thing against another, Got!! pleased to contrive to make things more equal*! we poor ignorant, short-sighted creatures are* io lii ink, --David was happier when He kept jhia fii? ther's sheep on such a plain as this, and singing lome of his own psalms, perhaps, than ever he was wiu a he became king of Israel and Judah. And I dare say, we should never have had some of the ■post beautiful texts in all those tine psalms, if he had not been a shepherd, which enabled him to make so many line comparisons and similitudes, a?3 one may say, from a country life, flocks of sheep' hills and vallies, and fountains of water. * You ,hink then, said the gentleman, that a la- borious life is a happy one. I do, Sir, and more so, especially as it exposes a man to fewer sins. If King Saul had continued a poor laborious man to the end of his days, he might have lived happy and honest, and died a natural death in his bed at last which you know, Sir, was more than he did. But 1 speak, with reverence, for it was divine Provi- D re n s C unw r ' rUle , d 311 th3f ' know ' *« I do not presume to make comparisons—Besides, Sir, my employment has been particularly honoured - n»t • t £, t . Shephe [ ds keeping their flocks by "eU the t ft 3n i eIs appeared in ^thlehem, to retea ed to " CWS * ? ? IadeSt tidi °S S ever wer * the So , ► P °° r S,nful men; often and often has ni'h f f ;r d my poor heait »» the «£*S nes k, he t ™ C Whh ™? rC W -nd thankful. Be e si U ? per Could have do "e. that hel, d In S S ! ; erd st °PP ed > ^ he began to feel But Mr John* t0 ° free ' and llild ta lked too long. said, an/t i 0n tn r c h e We r n , P,eaSSd Whathe **fch hesai, i> 5,? e ? rfUl content «« manner fa :?» Pleasuie to him to meet with a 6 plain man, who without any kind of learning but what he had got from the Bible, was able t o talk so well on the subject in which all men, high and low, rich and poor, are equally concerned. Indeed I am afraid 1 make too bold, Sir, for it better becomes me to listen to such a gentleman as you seem t$ be, than to talk in my poor way; as I was saying, Sir, I wonder all working men not derive as great joy and delight as I do fromj thinking how God has honored poverty ! Obi Sir, what great, or rich, or mighty men have had suck honour put on them, or their condition, as shep- herds, tent-makers, fishermen, and carpenters have had? My honest friend, said the gentleman, I perceive;; you are well acquainted with scripture. — Yes, Sir, pretty well, blessed be God; through his mercy | learnt to read when I was a little bgy; thougiij reading was not so common when 1 was. a child asl I am told, through the /goodness of Provioence| and the generosity of the rich, it is likely to M come now a-days. 1 believe there is no day for tl| last thirty years, that I have not peeped at rayBiJ ble. If we can't find time to read a chapter, 1 dell any man to say he can't find time to read a verses. and a single text, Sir, well followed and put in praj lice every day, would make no bad figure at.t| year's end ; three hundred and sixty-five texts, wwj out the losr of a moment's time, would make! pretty stock, a little golden treasury, as one njl say, faotn new-year's day to new-year's d ay;^| children were brought up to it they would look ■ their text as naturallv as they do for their breakwi Ko laboring man 'tis true, has so much leisurcj a shepherd, for while the flock is feeding, J obliged to be still ; and at such times I can no?*! then tap a shoe for my children or myself, Which b ffirreat saving to us, and while I am doing that I ifepeat a hit of a chapter, which makes the tima pass pleasantly in this wild solitary place. — I can say the best part, of the Bible by heart. — I believe phould not" say the best part, for every part is SBod, but I mean the greatest part, 1 have had but a lonely life, and have often had but little to eat, fflBkt my Bible has been meat, drink, and company 9me, as I may say, and when want and trouble have come upon me. I don't know what I should fc#ve done indeed, Sir, if I had not the promise o.f this book for my stay and support. You have had great difficulties then ? said Mr. Johnson. — Why, as to that, Sir, not more than neighbor's fare, I have but little cause to com- * plain, and much to be thankful ; but I have had HBne little struggles, as I will leave you to judge I have a wife and eight children, whom I bred up if. that little cottage which you see under the hill about half a mile off. What, that with the smoke .coming out of the chimney ? said the gentleman.— Ono, Sir, replied the Shepherd, smiling, we have seldom smoke in the evening, for we have little to. •cook, and firing is very dear in these parts. Tis that cottage which yon see on the left hand of the ?£ Ur ? near that little tuft of hawthorns. What that hovel with only one room above and one bel- low, with scarcely any chimney, how is it possible you can live there with such a family ! O ! it is very possible and very certain too, cried the Shepherd, now many better men have been worse lodged !— gw many good christians have perished in prisons gj dungeons i in comparison of which my cottage M * he house is very well, Sir, and if th* s rain aid not sometimes beat down upon us, thro-M the thatch when we are a-bed, I should not desire a better, for I have health, peace, and liberty, a rd no man rnakefh me afraid. Jong; but how can you contrive to lodge so nnnv children ?-We do the best we can, Sir My pod wife is a very sickly woman, or we should alwayj have done tolerably well. There are no gentry i, the parish, so that she has not met with any crfea assistance in her sickness. The good curate of'th parish, who lives in that pretty parsonage in the valley, is very willing, but not very able to assist us on these trying occasions, for he has indeed lit tie enough fur himself, and a large family into the bargain; yet he does what he can, and more than many richer men do, and more than he can well afford. Besides that, his prayers and good advice, we are always sure of, and we are truly thankful for that, for a man must give, you know, Sir, accord- ing to what he hath, and not according to what he hath not. Are you in any distress at present, said Mr, Johnson.— No, Sir, thank God, replied the Shep- herd. I get my shilling a day, and most of my children will soon be able to earn something, for we have only three under five years of age — Only! said the gentleman, that is a heavy burden. Not at all— God fits the back to it. Though my wife is not able to do any out-of door work, yet she breeds up her children to such habits of industry, that our little maids before they are six years old can first get a halfpenny, and then a penny a day by knitting. The boys, who are too little to do hard wprk, get a trifle by keeping the birds oflTthe corn; I 9 ■or this the farmers will give them a penny or two- pence, and now, and then a bit of bread and cheese Into the bargain. When the season of crow keep- ing is over, then they glean or pick stones, any ■hing is better than idleness, Sir, and if they did mot get a farthing by it, I would make them do it just the same, for the sake of giving them early habits of labour. m So you see, Sir, I am not so badly off as many pre — nay, if it were not that it costs me so much in apothecary's stuff' for my poor wile, I should reckon ■myself well oif. Nay, I do reckon myself well ioff) for blessed be God, he has granted her life to my prayers, and I would work myself to 'natomy, land live on one meal a day, to add any comfort to her valuable life; indeed, 1 have often done the last, and thought it no great matter neither. I While they were in this part of the discourse, a pine plump cherry- cheek little girl ran up out of breath, with a smile on her young happy face, and Iwithout taking any notice of the gentleman, cried out with great joy — Look here, father, only see how much I have got to day ! Mr. Johnson was much struck with her simplicity, but puzzled to know what was the occasion of this great joy. On ' looking at her, he perceived a small quantity of coarse wo©! some of which had found it's way through the holes of her clean, but scanty and rag- ged wooten apron. The father said, this has been a successful day indeed, Molly, don't you see the gentleman? Molly now made a curtsey down to tthe very ground; while Mr. Johnson enquired into the cause of the mutual satisfaction which both fa- ther and daughter had expressed at the unusual good fortune of the day. 10 Sir, said trie Shepherd, poverty is a great sharp, encr of wits. My wife and I cannot endure to set our children, poor as they are, without shoes and stockings, not only on account of the pinching coid which cramps their poor little limbs, but because it degrades and debases them; and poor people, who have but little regard to appearances, will seldom be found to have any regard for honesty and good- ness ; I don't say this is always the case, but I am sure it is so too often. Now shoes and stockings being very dear, we could never afford to get them without a little contrivance, i must shew you how I manage about the shoes when you condescend to call at our cottage, Sir; as to stockings this is one way we take to help to get them. My young ones who are too little to do much work, sometimes wander at odd hours over the hills for the chance of finding what little wool the sheep may drop when they rub themselves, as they are apt to do, in the bushes*. These scattered bits of wool the chil- dren pick out of the brambles, which I see, have torn sad holes in Molly's apron to day; they carry this wool home, and when they have got a pretty parcel together, their mother cards it; for she can sit and card in the chimney corner, when she is not able to wash, or work about the house. The big- gest girl then spins it — it does very well for us without dying, for poor people must not stand for the colour of their stockings. After this our little boys knit it for themselves, while they are employ- ed in keeping crows in the fields, and after they get home at night As for the knitting, the girls and * This' piece of frugal indusin/ it not imaginary, hut a red fact, ar. is the cfrara'ffr of (he Shepherd, and his unconvnM knowledge of the Scrtjpti^rf^ 11 their mother do, that is chiefly for sale, which helps ■ pav cur rent. ■ Mr. Johnson lifted up his eyes in silent astonish- ment at the shifts which honest poverty can make lithe r than beg or steal; and was surprised to think how many ways of subsisting there are which those that live at their ease little suspect.— He secretly resolved to be more attentive to his $wn petty expences than he had hitherto been; and to be more watchful that nothing was wasted in his family. 1 But to return to the Shepherd — Mr. Johnson told him, that as he must needs be at his friend's house who lived many miles off' that night, he could not, as he wished to do, make a visit to his cottage at present. But I will certainly do it, said he, on |ny return, for I long to see your wife and her pice little family, and to be an eye-witness of her Jpeatness and good management. The poor man's tears started into his eyes on hearing the Gommen- Idation bestowed upon his wife, and wiping them off with the sleeve of his coat, for he was not worth a handkerchief in the world, he said, Oh! Sir, you just now, I am afraid, called me an humble man, but indeed 1 am a very proud one. Proud! exclaimed Mr. Johnson, I hope not — pride is a great sin, and as the poor are liable to it as well as the rich, so good a man as you seem to be ought to guard against it. Sir, said he, you are right, but I am not proud of myself, God knows I have no- thing to be proud of. 1 am a poor sinner, but in- deed, Sir, I am proud of my wife; she is not only fthe most tidy, notable woman on the Plain, but she is the kindest wife and mother, and the most con- *er.ted, thankful christian that I know. Last year IS J thought I should have lost her in a violent fit of the rheumatism, caught by going to work too soon after her lying in, I fear; for ? tis but a bleak cold, ish place, as you may see, Sir, in winter, and some, times the snow lies so long under the hill, that I can hardly make myself a path to get out and buy a few necessaries in the next village ; and we are afraid to send out the children, for fear they should be lost when the snow is deep. So, as I was say. ing, the poor soul was very bad indeed, and for se- veral weeks lost the use of her limbs, except her hands — a merciful Providence spared her the use of these, so that when she could not turn in her bed, she could contrive to patch a rag or two for her family. She was always saying, had it not been for the great goodness of God, she might have had the palsy instead of the rheumatism, and then she could have done nothing — but nobody had so many mercies as she had. I will not tell you what she suffered during that bitter weather, Sir, but rny wife's faith and patience during that trying time, were as good a lesson to me, as any sermon I could hear, and yet Mr. Jen- kins gave us very comfortable ones too, that helped to keep up my spirits. One Sunday afternoon, when my wife was at the worst, as I was coming out of church, for I went *ne part of the day, and my eldest daughter the other, so my poor wife was never left alone. As I was coming out of church, I say, Mr. Jenkins, the minister, called out to me, and asked rne how my wife did, saying he had been kept from coming to see her by the deep fall of snow, and indeed from the parsonage-house to my hovel it was quite im- passable. I gave him all the particulars he asked; I 13 L I am afraid a good many more, for my heart: Ins quite full. He kindly gave me a shilling, and %< t id he would certainly try to pick out his way and ^ m e and see her in a day or two, . While he was talking to me, a plain farmer- looking o-entleman in boots, who stood by, listened Wo -ill 1 said, but seemed to take no notice. It was Mr Jenkins's wife's father, who was come to pass the Christmas holidays at the parsonage-house.— I lad always heard him spoken of as a plain frugal tan, who lived close himself, but was remarked to give away more than any of his show-away neigh- bors. , .... . . I Well! I went home with great spirits at this sea- sonable and unexpected supply; for we had tap- ped our last sixpence, and there was little work to be had on account of the weather. I told my wife I was not come back empty-handed. , No, 1 dare say not, says she, you have been serving a master § who filleth the hungry with good things, though he sendeth the rich empty away.' True, Mary, says I, we seldom fail to get good spiritual food from Mr. Jenkins, but to day he has kindly sup* plied our bodily wants. She was more thankful when I shewed her the shilling, than, I dare say, some of your great people are when thty get a hun- dred pounds. Mr. Johnson's heart smote him when he heard such a value set upon a shilling — Surely, said he, to himself, I will never waste another— but he said nothing to the Shepherd who thus pursued his ^ Story. H Next morning before I went out, I sent a part of the money to buy a little ale and brown sugar tq |p>ut into her water gruel, which you know, Sir;. mm made it nice and nourishing. % went out to clear H 'i W00 ^ ln J 1 filrn) -yard, for there was no standing nil m§ on ? e J Plain after such sn ™ as had fellen if 2 Ji 1 "« h t- 1 went with a lighter heart than usual, becau! mPS iwfsSSI K - VIi ? a !ittl i T better ' and ,ably supplied for this day, and I now resolved m 0rp m l than ever to trust in God for the supplies of tb , | , next. When I came back at night my wife felh ]|. crying, as soon as she saw me. Th\* I ? I thought a bad return for the bi^sim- ihv. hiZ [I lately received, and so I told her. 01 said sfc i| is too much, we are too rich! 1 a in now frighted not lest we should have no portion in this world' put for fear we should have our whole portion, in it. Look here, John! So saying, she uncovered the bed, whereon she lay, and shewed me two warm thick new blankets. I could not believe my own eyes, Sir, because when I went out in the morning, I had left her no other covering than our little old thin blue rag. I was still more amazed when she put half a crown into my hand, telling me she had a visit from Mr. Jenkins and Mr. Jones, . I the latter of whom had bestowed all these good I thmgs upon us. Thus, Sir, have our lives been crowned with mercies. My wife got about again, and 1 c!o believe, under Providence, it was owihj* to these comforts: for the rheumatism, Sir, with- \\ ^t blankets by night and flannel by day, is but a II baddish job, especially to people who have little or fi . ji; n ° fire - She will always be a weakly body ; but thank 1 ] m G ° d hel souI I )ros P ers and is in health. But I beg Iff rM y° ur > pardon, Sir, for talking on at this rate. $iot U ' : || all, not at all, said Mr. Johnson ; I am much \4 Phased with your story, you shall certainly see M j| 'j i;jt in a few days, Good-night. So saying, he slipped 4 ^' a crown into his hand, and rode gff, Surely/^ the Shepherd, goodness and mercy have followed me tell the days of my tifi> as he gave the money to his Life when he got home at night. I As to Mr. Johnson, he found abundant matter tor his thoughts during the rest of his journey. On Ihe whole he was more disposed to envy than to pity khe Shepherd. " I have seldom seen (said he) so happy a man. It is a sort of happiness which the florid could not give, and which I plainly see it has liot been able to take away. This must be the true Spirit of Religion. I see more and more, that true goodness is not merely a thing of words and opi- nions, but a Living Principle brought into every fbommon action of a man's life. What else could fiave supported this poor couple under every bitter jtrial of want or sickness? No, my honest Shep- herd, I do not pity, but I respect and ever honour |hee ; and I will visit thy poor hovel on my return to Salisbury with as much pleasure as I am now going to the house of my friend/'—- 1 shall ngw .conclude this first part with HpHE Lord my pasture shall prepare, JL A n d fe ed m e vv i t h a S h e pi i c rd 'sq re ; His presence shall my wants supply, And guard me wttfo a. watchful eye ; § • My noon-day walks lie shall auemi, And all my midnight hours defend I When in the sultry glebe I faint, Or on the thirsty mountains nam, 1; To fertile vales and dewy meads 1 M .y weary wand' ring steps he leads, Where peaceful rivers, soft and slow, I Amid the verdent landskip flow, I ^?ough m the P aths of death I trea:h With glooMy horrors avirsprea^ 16 My steadfast heart shall fear no ill, For thou, O Lord, art with me still, Thy friendly crook shall give me aid, And guide me through the dreadful shade, Though in a hare and rugged way, Through devious lonely wilds I stray, Thy bounty shall my pains beguile, ' The barren wilderness shall smile ; With sudden greens and herbage crown 'd And streams shall manner all aioinKl. PART II. MR. JOHNSON, after hav ing passed some time with his friend, sat out on his return to Salisbury, and on the Saturday evening readied a very small inn, a mile or two distant from the Sher>- herd's village; for he never travelled on a Sunday, He went the next morning to the church nearest the house where he had passed the night; and after taking such refreshment as he could get at that house, he walked on to find out the Shepherd's cotizge. His reason for visiting him on a Sunday, was chiefly, because he supposed it to be the only izy which the Shepherd's employment allowed him to pass at home with his family, and as Mr. Johnson had been struck with his talk, he thought it would be neither unpleasant nor unprofitable to observe how a man who carried such an appear* mceof piety spent his Sunday, for though he was So low in the world, this gentleman was not above entering very closely into Ins character, of which he thought he should be able to form a better judg- ment, by seeing whether his practice at home kept pace with his professions abroad. For it is not so much by observing how people talk as how they live ihac we ought to judge of their characters. 17 1 After a ])lensant walk, Mr. Johnson got within Bight of the cottage, to which he was directed by mhe cloRip of hawthorns and the broken chimney* He wished to take the family by surprize; and walk- ing gently up to the house, he stood awhile to lis- ten. The door being half open, he saw the Shep- jherd, who looked so respectable in his Sunday- coat, that he should hardly have known him; his wife, and their numerous young family, drawing round their little table, which w 7 as covered with a '■lean though very coarse cloth. There stood on it a large dish of potatoes, a brown pitcher, and a piece of coarse loaf. The wife and children stood in silent attention, while the Shepherd, with uplift- ed hands and eyes, devoutly begged the blessing of Heaven on their homely fare. Mr. Johnson could not help sighing to reflect that he had sometimes .wen better dinners eaten with less appearance of thankfulness. liThe Shepherd and his wife then sat down with jffeat seeming cheerfulness, but the children stood, and while the mother was helping them, little fresh coloured Molly, who had picked the wool from the bashes with so much delight, crie4 out, Father, I wish I was big enough to say grace, 1 am sure I fihouldsay it very heartily to day, for I was think- ing what must poor people do who have no salt to their potatoes, and do but look, our dish is quite full. That is the true way of thinking, Molly, said the father; in whatever concerns bodily wants and bodily comforts, it is our duty to compare our own lot with the lot of those who are worse off, and this Wll keep us thankful ; on the other hand, whenever are tempted to set up our own wisdom or good- Hf' we roust compare ourselves with those who 18 are wiser and better, and that will kfcep us humble, Molly was now so hungry, and found the potatoes so good, that she had no time to make $ny more remarks, but was devouring her dinner very hear, tily, when the barking of the great dog drew her attention fron) her trencher ^o the door, and spying the stranger, she cried out, Look, father, see here, if yonder is not the good gentleman. Mr. John- son finding himself discovered, immediately walked in, and was heartily welcomed by the honest Shep. herd, who told his wife that this was the gentleman to whom they were so much obliged. The good woman began, as some very neat peo- ple are rather apt to do, with making many apoloj gies that her house was not cleaner, and tl>|t thing were not in fitter order to receive such a gentle, man, Mr. Johnson, however, on looking rouni; could discover nothing but the most perfect neat, ness. The trenchers on which they were eatinj was almost as whiLe as their linen ; and notwA .standing the number and smallncss of the ehi dr<* there uas not the least appearance of dirt or lute;, The furniture was very simpleaud poor, hardly ml deed amount! no* to bare necessaries. It consist* of four brown" woe-Jen chairs, which by constat. rubbin<* were become as bright as a looking gM an iron pot and kettle; a poor old grate wW scared v held a handful of coals, and out of m the little fire that had been in it, appeared the m been taken, as soon as it had answered the end which it had been lighted, that or coiling their h tatoes. Over the chimney stood an old-fashijl broad bright candlestick, and a still brighter spitj was very clear that this last was kept rather tor I nament than use; ap old carved elbow chaii^ chest of the same date which stood in the con j If) ' were considered as the most valuable part of the Shepherd's goods, having been in his family for three generations. But all these were lightly es- teemed by him, in comparison of another posses- sion, which added to the above, made up the whole of what he had inherited from his father, and which last he would not have parted with, if no other could have been had, for a King's ransom ; this was a large old Bible, which lay on the window- sfcat, neatly covered with brown cloth, variously patched. This sacred book was most reverendly preserved from dogs'-ears, dirt, and every other ifjury, but such as time and much use had made it staffer in spite of care. On the clean white walls was pasted a Hymn on the Crucifixion of our Sa- vior, a print of the Prodigal Son, the Shepherds Hymfi, and a new History of a true Book. After the first salutations were over, Mr. John- son said, that if they would go on quietly with their dinner, he would sit down. Though a good deal ashamed, they thought it more respectful to obey the gentleman, who having cast his eye on their slender provisions, gently rebuked the Shepherd for not having indulged himself, as it was Sunday, with a morsel of bacon to relish his potatoes. The Shepherd said nothing, but poor Marv coloured and hung down her head, saying, indeed, Sir, it is not my fault — I did beg my husband to allow him- self a bit of meat to day out of your honour's boun- ty^ but he was too good to do it, and it is all for my sake. The Shepherd seemed unwilling to come to applanation, but Mr. Johnson desired Mary to fh°*l? n \ S ° she contin ued— you must know, Sir, mat both of us next to a sin dread a debt, but indeed ws&me cases a debt is a sin j but with all our care 20 and pains we have never been able quite to pay off the. doctor's bill, for that bad fit of the rheumatism which I had last winter. Now when you were pleased to give my husband that kind present the other day, I heartily desired him to buy a bit of meat 'for Sunday, as I said before, that he might have a little refreshment for himself out of your kindness. But, answered he, Mary, it is never out of my head long together that we^ still owe a few shillings to the doctor, and thank God it is all we did owe in the world; now if I carry him this money directly, it will not only shew him our ho- nesty and our good-will, but it will be an encou< ragemerit to him to come to you another- time in case you should be taken once more in such a bad fit ; for I must own, added my poor husband, thai the thought of your being so terribly ill without any help, is the only misfortune that I want con- rage to face. Here the grateful woman's tears ran down- so fast, that she could not go on. She wiped then with the comer of her apron, and humbly beggei pardon for making so free. Indeed, Sir, said the Shepherd, though my wife is full as unwilling to b in debt as myself, yet I could hardly prevail, on he! to consent to my paying this money just then, be cause she said, it was hard I should, not have a last of the gentleman's bounty myself. But for once Sir, I would have my own way. For you mil know, as I pass best part of my time alone tendio my sheep, 'tis a great point with me, Sir, tof comfortable matter for my own thoughts; soil 'tis rather self-interest in me to allow myself^; pleasures and no practices that won't bear thing on over and over, For when one is a. good <nj 21 #lone, you know, Sir, all one's bad deeds do so rush in upon one, as I may say, and so torment one, that there is no true comfort to be had but in keeping clear of wrong doings and false pleasures; and that I suppose may be one reason why so many folks hate to stay a bit by themselves. But as I was say- ing—when I came to think the matter over on the Sill yonder, said I to myself, a good dinner is a good thing I grant, and yet it will be but cold comfort to me a week after to be able to say — to be sure I had a nice shoulder of mutton last Sun- day for dinner, thanks to the good. gentleman, but Ihea I am in debt. I had a rare dinner, that's cer- tain, but the pleasure of that has long been over, and the debt still remains. I have spent the crown, and now if my po#r wife should be taken in one of those fits again, die she must, unless God works a miracle to prevent it, for I can get no help for her* This thought settled all ; and 1 set off directly and paid the crown to the doctor with a$ much cheer- fulness as I should have felt on sitting down to the fattest shoulder of mutton that ever was roasted. — - And if I was contented at the time, think how much more happy I have been at the remembrance! Q, Sir, there are no pleasures worth the naitte but such as bring no plague or penitence after them. Mr. Johnson was satisfied with the Shepherd's Reasons, and agreed, that though a good dinner was not to be despised, yet it was not worthy to be com- pared with < a contented mind/ which, as the Bi- ble truly says, ' is a continual feast/ But come, the good gentleman, what have we got in this ®tmn mug?— As good water, said the Shepherd, as any in the King's dominions. 1 have heard of coWUnes beyond §ea, & which there is no whole- 22 some water— nay, I have been myself in a great town not far off, where they are obliged to buy al] the water they get, while a good Providence sends to my very door a spring as clear and fine as Jacob's well. When I am tempted to repine that I have often no other drink, I call to mind, that it was no. thing better than a cup of cold water which the wo. man of Samaria drew for the greatest guest that ever visited this world. Very well, replied Mr. Johnson— but as ybm honesty has made you prefer a poor meal to being! in debt, I will at least send and get something for! you to drink. I saw a little public house just by the church as I came along. Let that little rosy.j faced fellow fetch a mug of beer. So saying, lie looked full at the boy, who did not offer to stir, but cast an eye at his father to know what he was todoj Sir, said the Shepherd, I hope we shall not appear ungrateful, if we seem to refuse your favour ; mjl little boy would : I am sure, fly to serve you on any other , occasion, But, good Sir, it is Sunday, ail should any of my family be seen at the public-hous| on a Sabbath-day, it would be a much greater griel to me than to drink water all my lite. I am ofte| talking against these doings to others, and if J should say one thinganddo another, you can't tW what an advantage it would give many of my neigj tours over me, who would be glad enough to re| port that they caught the Shepherd's son at the ale| house, without explaining how it happened. Christ tians, you know, Sir, must be doubly watchful they will not only bring disgrace on themsclv«| but what is much worse, on that holy name by they are called. I Are you not a little too cautious, my honest frieud? said Mr. Johnson. I humbly ask your par- don, Sir, replied the Shepherd, if I think that is jlmpossible. In my poor notion, I no more under- stand how a man can be too .cautious, than how he Kan be too strong or too healthy. You are right, indeed, said Mr. Johnson, as a ge- neral principle, but this struck me as a very small thing.— Sir, said the Shepherd, I am afraid you Sri 11 think me very bold, but you encourage me to speak out, — Tis what I wish, said the gentleman. 7-Then, Sir, resumed the Shepherd; I doubt, if where there is a temptation to do wrong, any thing |an be called small j that is, in short, if there is any such thing as a small wilful sin. A poor man, like me, is seldom called out to do great things, so that it is not by a few great deeds his character can |e judged by his neighbours, but by the little round of daily customs he allows himself in.— While they fere thus talking, the children who had stood very quietly behind, and had not stirred a foot, now be- gan to scamper about all, at once, and in a moment ran to the window seat to pick up their little old flats. Mr. Johnson looked surprised at this dis- turbance ; the Shepherd asked pardon, telling him | was the sound of the church beil which had been Sonrhf?u their rudenes *; for their mother has forchn/. 1 ? Up With SUch a fear tfl&ilig too late atrip f L was but uho C0llld <*teh (he first ^tan wi eUand b8 He hadal- Seen f t0 think tIm was more gun o ?*,» t0 Set i0t ° Church be- * r^rent fnr °i 3ened W exhortation ^y^lZ^ m}d ^ t0 ? fessi ^ <*M*fc looked looked ST be Ye ' dd y t0 J* 0in in « ' * Ked as it people did not fed themselves so be 24 sinners. And though such as lived at a great dis. tance might plead difference of clocks as an excuse yet those who lived within the sound of the bdl could pretend neither ignorance nor mistake. Mary and her children set forward. Mr. John*, son and the Shepherd followed, taking care to talk the whole way on such subjects as might fit fhem for the solemn duties of the place to which th«i were going. I have often been sorry to observe, said Mr. Johnson, that many who are reckoned de' cent good kind of people, and who would on no ao count neglect going to church, yet seem to care jbuMittle in what frame or temper of mind they go thither. They will talk of their worldly concerns till they get within the door, and then take them up again the very minute the sermon is over, which makes me ready to fear, they lay too much stress on the mere form of going to a place of worship -Now, for my part, I always find that it requires a little time to bring my mind into a state fit to do any common business well, much more this great and most necessary business of all.— Yes, Sir, said the Shepherd, and then I think too how busy should be in preparing my mind, if I was going in- to the presence of a great gentleman, or a lord, or the king — and shall the King of Kings be treate witf less respect ? — Besides, one likes to see people fee s as if going to church was a thing of choice ani pleasure, as well as duty, and that they were a desirous of ndt being last there, as they would bf if they were going to a feast or a fair. After service, Mr. Jenkins the clergyman,^ was well acquainted with the character of M* Johnson, and had a great respect for him, accosteo him with much civility, expressing his concern 25 that he could not enjoy just now so much of his conversation as he w ished, as he wm obliged to vi- sit a sick' person at a distance, but he hoped to have a little talk with him before he left the village. As they walked along together, Mr. Johnson made such inquiries about the Shepherd, as served to con- firm him in the high opinion he entertained of his piety, good sense, industry, and self-denial. They parted, the clergyman promising 10 call in at the cottage in his way home. The Shepherd, who took it for granted that Mr. Johnson was gone to the parsonage, walked home with his wife and children, and was beginning m. his usual way to catechize and instruct his family, when Mr. Johnson came in, and insisted that the Shep- herd should go on with his instructions just as if he was not there. Thfe gentleman who was very de- sirous of being useful to his own servants, and workmen in the way of religious instruction, was sometimes sorry to find, that though he took a good deal of pains, they did not now and then quite understand him, for though his meaning was very good, his language was not always very plain, and though the things he said were not so bard to be understood, yet the words were, especially to such as were very ignorant. And he now began to find out, that if people were ever so wise and good, yet if they had not a simple, agreeable, and familiar way of expressing themselves, some of their plain hearers would not be much the better for them— rot this reason he was not above listening to the plain, humble way in which this honest man taught his family, for though he knew that he himself had many advantages over the Shepherd, had more fining, and could teach him manv things, yet he 26 was not too proud to learn, even of so poor a man in any point > nere he thought the Shepherd might have the advancage of him. This gentleman was much pleased with the knowledge and piety he discovered in the answers of the children, and desired the Shepherd to toil him how he contrived to keep up a sense of divine things in his own mind, and in that of his family, with so little leisure and so little reading— O, as to that, Sir, said the Shepherd, we do not read much, except in one book to be sure, but by hearty prayer for God's blessing on the use of that book, what little knowledge is needful seems to come of course as it were. And niy chief study has been to bring the fruits of the Sunday reading in the week's bu- siness, and to keep up the same sense of God in the heart, when the Bible is in the cupboard, as when it is in the hand. In short, to apply what I readin the book, to what I meet with in the field. I don't quite understand, you, said Mr. Johnson. — Sir, replied the Shepherd, I have but a poor gift at conveying these things to others, though I have much comfort from them in my own mind; but I am sure that the most ignorant and hard working people, who are in earnest about their salvation, may help to keep up devout thoughts and good af- fections during the week, though they have hardly any time to look in a book. And it will help them to keep out bad thoughts too, which is no small matter. But then they must know the Bible : they must have read the word of God ; this is a kind of stock in trade for a Christian to set up with j and it is this which makes me so diligent in teaching it to my children — and even in storing their memories with psalms and chapters, This is a great help L a D oor bard working man, who will hardly meet with any thing but what he may Urn. to some good Account If one lives in the fear and love df God. Llmost every thing o ni >ees abroad will teach one to adore his power and goodness, and bung to mind some texts of Scripture which shall fill the heart Lith thankfulness, and the mouth with praise.— When I look upwards, < The Heavens declare the 'dory of God/ and shall I be silent and ungrate- ful ? If I looked round and see the valleys standing (hick with com, how can I help blessing that Power Lho 'Giveth me all tilings richly to enjoy?'— I may learn gratitude from the beasts of the field, for the * Gx knoweth his owner, and the ass his < master's crib,' and shall a Christian not know, shall a Christian not consider what great things God has done for him ? I, who am a Shepherd en- deavor to till my soul with a constant remembrance of that good Shepherd, who ' Feedeth me in green '■'pastures, and maketh me to lie down beside the 'still waters, and whose rod and staff comfort me/ You are happy, said Mr. Johnson, in the retir- ed life, by which you escape the corruptions of the world.— Sir, said the Shepherd, I do not escape the corruptions of my own evil nature. Even there, on that wild solitary hill, I can find out that my heart is prone to evil thoughts. I suppose, Sir, that different states have different temptations. — You great folks that live in the world, perhaps, are exposed to some of which such a poor man as I am, know nothing. But to one who leads a lonely life like me, evil thoughts are a chief beset tfn'g sin, and I can no more withstand these without the grace of God, than a rich man can withstand the anares of evil company, without the same grace, And 1 28 tec] that I stand in need of God's help continuulb and if he should give me up to my own evil heart' 1 should be lost, • Mr. Johnson approved of the Shepherd's since, rily, for he had always observed, that where there was no humility, and no watchfulness against sin, there was no religion, and he said, that the man who did not feel himself to be a sinner, in his opi- nion, could not be a Christian, j Just as they were in this part of the discourse, I Mr. Jenkins the clergyman, came in. After the I usual salutations, he said, Well, Shepherd, I wish I you joy. — I know you will be sorry to gain any ad« | vantage by the death of a neighbour, but old Wil- I son, my clerk, was so infirm, and I trust so well prepared, that there is no reason to be sorry for his death. I have been to pray by him, but he died while I staid. I have always intended vou should succeed to his place ; 'tis no great matter, but every little is something. No great matter, Sir, said the Shepherd, indeed it is a great thing to me — it will more than pay my rent—- blessed be God for all his goodness. Mary said nothing, but lifted up her eyes full of tears in silent gratitude. I am glad of this little circumstance, said Mr. Jenkins, not only for your sake, but for the sake of the office itself. I so heartily reverence every re- ligious institution, that I would never have even "|; the amen added to the excellent prayers of our lit church by vain or profane Lips, and if it depended on me, there should be no such thing in the land as an idie, drunken, or irreligious parish clerk. Sorry II 1 am to say, that this matter is not always suffice 29 'cntly attended to, and that I know some of a very |nd liferent character. }4w Johnson now enquired of the clergyman whether there were many children in the parish. — ■ • More than you would expect, replied he, from the seeming smallness of it, but there are some little hamlets which you do not see. I think, returned Mr. Johnson, f recollect that in the conversation I had with the Shepherd on the hill yonder, he told nie you had no Sunday-school. — I am sorry to say we have none, said the minister — I do what I can to remedy this misfortune by public catechizing ; but having two or three churehes to serve, I cannot give so much time as I wish to private instruction ; and having a large family of my own, and no as- sistance from others, I have never been able to es- tablish a school. There is an excellent institution in London, said Mr. Jonnson, called the Sunday- School Society,, which kindly gives books and other helps, on the application of such pious ministers as stand in need of their aid, and which I am sure would have as- sisted you, but I think we shall be able to do some- thing ourselves. Shepherd; continued he, if I war. a king, and had it in my power to make you a rich and a great man, with a word speaking, I would not do it. Those who are raised by some sudden stroke, much above the station in which Divine Providence had placed them, seldom turn out very good or very happy. I have never had very great things in my power ; but as far as I have been "able I have been always glad to assist the worthy. I have* nowever, never attempted or desired to set anv poor man much above his natural condition, but it #s a pleasure to me to lend him such assistance as.- so may make that condition more easy to himself and to put him in a way which shall call him to the performance of more duties than perhaps he* could fcave performed without my help, and of perform- ipg them in a better manner. — What rent do yon pay for this cottage ? Fifty shillings a year, Sir. It is in a sad tattered condition, is there not a better to be had in the village ? That in which the poor clerk lived, said (he clergyman, is not only more tight and whole, but has two decent chambers, and has a very large light kitchen. That will be very convenient, re- plied Mr. Johnson ; pray what is the rent think,, said the Shepherd, poor neighbour Wilson gave somewhat about four pounds a year, or it might be guineas. — Very well, said h. Johnson, and what will the clerk's place be worth, think you ? — About three pounds, was the answer. Now, continued Mr. Johnson, my plan is, that the Shepherd should take that house immediately, for as the poor man is dead, there will be no need of waiting till quarter-clay, if I make up the dif- ference. — True, Sir, said Mr. Jenkins, and I am sure my wife's father, whom 1 expect to-morrow, will willingly assist a little towards buying some of the clerk's old goods. And the sooner they remove the better, for poor Mary caught that bad rheuma- tism by sleeping junder a leaky thatch. The Shep- herd was too mucft moved to speak, and Mary could hardly sob out, Oh ! Sir, vou are too ^ood, ipdee this house will do very well — It may do very well for you and your children. Mary, said Mr. Johnson, gravely, but it will not do for a school; the kitchen js neither large nor light enough, Shepherd, con- I 51 Btinticd he, with your good minister's leave, and Und assistance, I propose to set up in this parish a Sunday-school, and to make you the master. It Kill not at all interfere with your weekly calling, Kind it is the only lawful way in which you could turn- the Sabbath into a day of some little profit to your family, by doing as I hope, a great, deal of good to the souls of others. The rest of the week you will work as usual. The difference of the rent between this house and the clerk's, I shall pay my- self, for to put you in a better house at your own expence, would be no great act of kindness. As for honest Mary s who is not fit for hard labour, or any out-of door work, I propose to endow a small weekly school, of which she shall be the mistress, and employ her notable turn to good account, by teaching ten or a dozen girls to knit, sew, spin, card or any other useful way of geiting their bread, for all this I shall only pay her the usual price, for I am not going. to make you rich but useful. Not rich, Sir, cried the Shepherd. How can I ever be thankful enough for such blessings ? And will my poor Mary have a dry thatch over her head ! And shall I be able to send for the doctor when I am like to loose her ? Indeed, my cup runs over with blessings, I hope God will give me hu- mility. Here he and Mary looked at each other, and burst into tears. — The gentlemen saw their distress, and kindly walked out upon the little green before the door, that these honest people might give vent to their feelings. As soon as they were alone, they crept into one corner of the room, where they thought they could not be seen, and r a r" knees ' devoutly blessing and praising vod for his mercies. Never were heartier pray- i ers presented that this grateful couple offered un for their benetarrors. The warmth of their mJ? tude could only be equalled by. the earnestne* with which they besought the blessings of God J! the work in which they were going to engage 1 he two gentlemen now left this happy famihr and walked to the parsonage, where the evenii was spent m a manner very edifying to Mr. John son, who the next day tok all proper measures for putting the Shepherd in immediate possession of his now comfortable habitation. "Mr. Jenkins's f a . Hfer-in-few, the worthy gentleman who gave the Shepherd's wife the blankets, in the first part of this history, arrived at the parsonage before Mr Johnson left it, and assisted in fitting up the clerk's cottage. Mr. Johnson took his leave, promising to call u the worthy minister and his new clerk once a year in his summer's journey over the Plain, as long as it should please God to spare his life.— He had every reason to be satisfied with the objects of his bounty. The Shepherd's zeal and piety made him a blessing to the rising generation.: The old re- sorted to his school for the benefit of hearing the young instructed ; and the clergyman had the plea- sure of seeing that he was rewarded for the protec- tion he gave to the school, by the great increase in his congregation. The Shepherd not only exhorted both parents and children to the indispensible duty of a regular attendance at church, but hv his plfcui counsels he drew them thither, and by his plain aid prudent instructions enabled them to urtdeManci,aiii of course to delight in the public worship of God. FINIS,