m^ k 
 
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TS 
 
 CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 Society of Friends 
 
Date Due 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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 PRINTED IN 
 
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 NO. 23233 
 
 __ Cornell University Library 
 
 PR 6035.0 1294T5 
 
 The lime of her life :and other stories 
 
 3 1924 015 576 345 ..,,. 
 
The original of tliis book is in 
 tlie Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924015576345 
 
THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
^ \ 
 
 ^ ''^^,.r 
 
THE TIME OF 
 HER LIFE 
 
 AND OTHER STORIES. 
 
 MAUDE ROBINSON 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
 
 PERCY BIGLAND 
 
 PRESENTED 
 
 BY 
 
 EETW.Y H. MOSHER FUND 
 NEV YORK YEARLY MEETING 
 
 RBldiClOUS SOCIETY OF FRIENDS 
 
 THE SWARTHMORE PRESS LTD. 
 
 (Formerly' trading as Headlejr Bros. Publiihers, Ltd.) 
 
 72, OXFORD STREET, LONDON, W.i 
 
 tSii 
 

 t3-^ ^^ 
 
 
 S\L 
 
PREFACE 
 
 There have been in the past a good many attempts 
 in fiction to portray Quaker life with its peculiar- 
 ities, its faults and its virtues ; but coming 
 from the pens of outsiders, many of the pictures 
 are far from correct, or pleasing ; with perhaps, 
 the one exception of " The Quaker Settlement," 
 i^ Uncle Tom's Cabin. 
 
 I have endeavoured in these stories to give a 
 more authentic presentment of phases of Friendly 
 life, in the hope that it will interest the rising 
 generation, many of whom so nobly uphold the 
 true spirit of Quakerism, although what were 
 once considered its essential outer signs are 
 rapidly becoming things of the past. 
 
 It may be best to point out at once how much 
 is fact, and how much fiction. The stories were 
 first suggested to me by handling old family 
 relics, which set me trying to realise the lives and 
 characters of their original owners. 
 
 Becky's book, Abraham's box, Sallie's silver 
 cup, and Ann and Sarah's tea sets, all impelled 
 
6 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 me to find out all I could of the real people — 
 scanty details generally, but eked out by con- 
 temporary history it was easy to picture my 
 ancestors in their homely surroundings. 
 
 " An Emperor's Visit " is substantially true 
 and is composed from family tradition, and the 
 lively letters of the young governess. 
 
 " Drawn for the Militia " is also true, as far 
 as I have been able to find out the details, and I 
 well remember the hero. 
 
 Tryphena Holloway, of Brighton, was proud 
 of the fact of having been treated to a ride 
 in William's Penn's coach as a child. She 
 told it herself to Elizabeth Glaisyer, a very 
 aged Friend who died within living memory ; 
 but I must confess the date of the ride 
 was probably some years later than I have 
 found it convenient to place it. 
 
 " Dorcas Brown's School " is also substantially 
 true, but names and places are disguised. 
 
 In, the remaining tales the characters are all 
 imaginary, but many incidents, such as the story 
 of poor Thwaite, are genuine, and I trust they 
 give a tolerably truthful picture of Quaker life 
 at the dates which are given. 
 
 Most of the d,ates are in the years which we 
 
PREFACE 7 
 
 are apt to consider the dark ages of Quakerism, 
 but among much that must be regretted there 
 were doubtless many sweet and faithful souls who 
 served their generation well, and passed on to 
 those who succeeded them the true spirit of that 
 Quaker Testimony which we feel still has its 
 sphere of useful service in the Christian world. 
 
 So much interesting knowledge dies with each 
 generation that I have endeavoured in these 
 tales to preserve for our young Friends who live 
 in such a diflEerent atmosphere, some picture of 
 the lives, joys, and sorrows of those who have 
 gone before us. 
 
 Maude Robinson. 
 Saddlescombe, 
 
 Hassocks, Sussex. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE TIME OF HER LIFE. 1682 ... n 
 
 BECKY'S BOOK. 1714 - . . 28 
 
 ABRAHAM'S OAK. 1725 - - - 43 
 
 SALLIE OF THE BASKET SHOP. 1756 - - 65 
 
 HER FIRST YEARLY MEETING. 1810 - - 92 
 
 DRAWN FOR THE MILITIA. 1814 - - - iii 
 
 AN EMPEROR'S VISIT. 1814 - - - - 130 
 
 DORCAS BROWN'S SCHOOL. 1825 - - 142 
 
 A BOTANICAL WOOING. 1834 - - - 159 
 
 THE GAIN OF OPPRESSION. 1835 - - 191 
 
 CREATURELY ACTIVITY. 1863 - - 223 
 
 HOW THE MANTLE FELL. 1875 - - - 246 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 From Drawings by PERCT BIGLAND. 
 
 PAQIt 
 
 WILLIAM PENN'S APPOINTED MEETING 
 
 AT THE BLUE IDOL - - frontispiece 
 
 MARY MARRIAGE VISITS DANIEL IN 
 
 PRISON - - - - 126 
 
 THE EMPEROR'S VISIT - - 140 
 
 A BOTANICAL WOOING ... - 160 
 
THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 1682 
 
 It was a rare treat for the few Friends of 
 Brighthelmstone to have the presence of Williana 
 Penn at an afternoon meeting. From Blatch- 
 ington on the Downs, and even from Hurstpier- 
 point, others had come, who had been gathered 
 in by his preaching in formpr days, and now he 
 had returned from his first visit to the new Colony 
 in America they were anxious to hear again his 
 inspired eloquence. 
 
 The meeting had been at four o'clock on a 
 bright May afternoon. The largest room avail- 
 able had been crowded to excess, and now the 
 visitor was taking supper with James and Mary 
 Ireland behind one of the principal shops in 
 Ship Street. 
 
 The town had been strongly fortified by Queen 
 Elizabeth, and its " seven streets and as many 
 lanes " were enclosed in a wall fifteen feet high 
 with four gates ; but the ancient Church of 
 St. Nicholas, patron saint of seafarers, was on 
 the hill above, to serve as a beacon to home 
 coming vessels. 
 
12 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 The Irelands had been Puritans, but had gladly 
 turned from the atmosphere of wordy gloom to 
 the freer faith of the " Friends of Trvith," and 
 to entertain the genial and courteous William 
 Penn was by them esteemed a great privilege. 
 
 They were talking of the meeting, and of some 
 short communications by local Friends towards 
 the end. 
 
 " I was particularly struck," said William Penn, 
 " by a few words from a woman in a widow's 
 hood, of the sustaining power of Divine grace in 
 times of trouble." 
 
 " Ah ! Our good Damaris Holloway — she has 
 indeed a right to speak on that subject, for 
 although sore stricken, her cheerful patience has 
 never failed. Her husband was a mariner, the 
 owner of a good schooner trading from Shoreham, 
 and three years ago it was lost off the French 
 coast with all hands. Damaris has worked to 
 support her children ever since. The boy, little 
 Timothy, was a cripple, and never walked without 
 crutches, and a month ago he died also. Only 
 Tryphena is left, a good little maid, but too 
 grave and womanly for her twelve years." 
 
 " I noted her also — a pale, little wistful face, 
 with great brown eyes." 
 
 " She misses her brother sadly ; they were 
 constant companions. They would sit on the 
 beach all day long, minding their mother's and 
 
THE TIME OF HER LIFE 13 
 
 the neighbour's washing, spread to dry' in the 
 sun, and the wool for their mother's spinning. 
 She buys fleeces from a shepherd on the Downs, 
 and although it has been through the Fulling 
 Mill at Edburton, it always needs washing and 
 drying before it is dyed to spin. The two 
 children would sit, hour after hour, picking and 
 carding it, and talking to each other — no wonder 
 the child misses Timothy." 
 
 " Poor little maid — she is just the age of my 
 merry Letitia. I should not like to see her so 
 unchildUke." 
 
 " Tryphena can read and write, her mother 
 has taught her, and also to sew and knit, but I 
 hardly know when ; Damaris is always busy 
 making meat pasties, for which she has quite a 
 reputation, and spinning coarse wool for the 
 thick stockings the fishermen wear in their 
 sea-boots." 
 
 " Would it be too late to pay them a visit, as I 
 have to leave so early to-morrow ? " 
 
 *' Oh, no. Damaris would be pleased ; I will 
 guide thee ; " and soon the pair were at the 
 open door of a low house in one of the narrow 
 lanes. 
 
 Within w^s a warm glow from a great oven 
 filled with blazing gorse in the side of the chimney 
 corner, and at the table stood Damaris, in a large 
 white apron, her sleeves rolled up to her shoulders, 
 
14 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 diligently moulding substantial turnovers of bread 
 dough, while lil;tle Tryphena sat carding wool, 
 the square, iron-toothed combs looking far too 
 heavy for her slender wrists. 
 
 The mother glanced up, and saw the guests. 
 Not in the least flustered she welcomed them 
 warmly, and bade her little daughter set chairs 
 for them. 
 
 " I ask thy excuse for going on with my work," 
 she said, " but the meeting this afternoon — a 
 privilege I could not miss, has hindered me. 
 The fishing fleet goes out with the tide near 
 midnight, and they will be coming to buy my 
 fresh pies to take with them ; but the oven is 
 just ready, and then I shall be at liberty.^' 
 
 The flames had died down, and only a glovsdng 
 layer of charcoal covered the floor of the oven. 
 SkilfuUy Damaris removed this with a long- 
 handled, flat shovel, and dipping a green broom 
 in water she rapidly swept it out. Another 
 equally long-handled wooden shovel, called a 
 peel, took up pie after pie, and landed each in its 
 destined place, an iron door was shut, and 
 Damaris was ready to talk to her visitors. 
 
 Meanwhile William Penn had been speaking 
 to Tryphena. She was not shy, and answered 
 his questions with sedate propriety. 
 
 Had she picked any cowslips this year ? No, 
 she never went farther outside the town than the 
 
THE TIME OF HER LIFE 15 
 
 beach. Mother was so busy she could not go 
 with her, or allow her to wander about with the 
 rough fisher children. Did she lovfe the country ? 
 Oh, yes^and once father — dear, kind father, had 
 taken her over the Downs to HoUingbury Copse, 
 and they heard a nightingale sing. 
 
 " My little maidens hear the nightingale all 
 day long at Warminghurst, and would all night 
 too, if they were not fast asleep." 
 
 " Friend HoUoway," he said, turning to the 
 mother ; " I am going to Warminghurst for two 
 nights. On Second day I expect to return this 
 way, as my dear wife wishes to take our daughter 
 Letitia to see an old friend at Rottingdean on our 
 way to inspect her Kentish farms. Wilt thou 
 trust this little maiden to my care for two days' 
 play with my children in our country home ? 
 My Guli would welcome her, and we would take 
 her to Thakeham meeting on First day." 
 
 Tryphena's great brown eyes opened their 
 widest, the pale cheeks flushed pink, and she fairly 
 gasped : " Oh, mother ! " she said. 
 
 " Thou art very kind," said Damaris grate- 
 fully. " It would indeed be a treat for my Uttle 
 town bred cage-bird, and " (she added in a low 
 voice), " I have longed to be able to provide her 
 with a change of thought, for she was like a 
 tender mother to our little Tim, and misses him 
 sorely, although we can be thankful that his 
 
i6 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 sufferings are over. She has never been five 
 miles from home, and it will be an event to be 
 remettibered for many a long day." 
 
 " My coach will be leaving Friend Ireland's 
 at seven o'clock to-morrow morning, so bring her 
 there ; and now farewell." 
 
 Mary Ireland lingered behind to say, " It will 
 be chilly riding in the early morning. I havie a 
 warm grey cloak and hood that my Submit has 
 outgrown. I wiU send Betty round with it for 
 the child." 
 
 This was true kindness, for Tryphena's ward- 
 robe was very scanty, and, after the pies were 
 baked and portioned out to the rough fisher lads 
 who came to buy them, the mother spent much 
 of the night washing, ironing and mending, so 
 that the child should be tidily clothed for the 
 great event. 
 
 A brighter May morning for a long drive could 
 not be, and when they arrived in Ship Street 
 William Penn stood smiling by the coach with 
 two strong bay horses, and an old grey-haired 
 coachman who adored his master. 
 
 " We will take good care of thy one ewe lamb, 
 and bring her back on Second day." The last 
 Hss was given, the little girl lifted in, her kind 
 host followed and seated himself beside her, and 
 away they drove, out of the town gate, and along 
 the seaside road to the westwards 
 
THE TIME OF HER LIFE 17 
 
 After a few kind words William Penn became 
 absorbed in a pile of papers, but Tryphena 
 needed no entertaining, as the coach rolled along 
 and sight after sight caught her eager eye. 
 
 At Portslade they turned up a road" over the 
 open Downs, wild and lonely. The air above 
 them was full of the song"^f larts, and presently 
 William Penn, glancing up, pointed out to 
 Tryphena, far away on a hill top, a group of the 
 Great Bustards — birds as large as turkeys, which 
 in those days abounded on th« open hills. 
 
 On the summit of Seeding Hill there burst 
 upon the child's eyes what seemed to her a vision 
 of Paradise. The fair Weald of Sussex lay 
 beneath them, with pastures of vivid green, great 
 woods, just bursting into leaf, and the silver 
 river Adur running through. 
 
 Down the steep hill they drove, over the 
 bridge and by Br amber Castle, even then a ruin, 
 and away through narrow lanes, their hawthorn 
 hedges just bursting into flower, to the stately 
 mansion of Warminghurst. 
 
 Never was a fifteen-mile drive more enjoyed. 
 Tryphena sat in one glow of delight the whole 
 way, noting every flower and bird, and fresh 
 country sight and sound. Soon after ten o'clock 
 they drove up to the stables, which still stand, 
 solid and useful, although the house has long 
 vanished. 
 
1 8 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 Taking the child's hand, William Penn walked 
 into the garden, where, under a cedar tree, they 
 found the lovely lady who reigned there, Gulielma 
 Penn, with her four children about her — 
 Springett, Letitia, William and little Guli. 
 
 After loving greetings the little guest was 
 presented, and most kindly welcomed, and 
 Letitia was bidden to show her all the country 
 sights that were so new to her ; the cows, the 
 black Sussex pigs, the new little colt, and 
 Letitia's own quiet pony, on which Tryphena 
 had her first ride. Then into the cool dairy, 
 where Molly was churning, and gave them mugs 
 of fresh milk. There were birds' nests in the 
 garden, a great wicker cage of tame doves, a 
 litter of playful puppies gambolling on the grass 
 — oh, what a dream of delight it all was ! 
 
 The child had been so well trained in pretty, 
 respectful manners by her careful mother that 
 she did not seem at all out of place in surroundings 
 so different to her home. 
 
 Sunday morning was fresh and fair, and the 
 whole family were packed into the roomy coach 
 to drive to meeting, nearly five miles away, in 
 Thakeham Meeting House, newly acquired, and 
 adapted from a dwelling, the upper floor being cut 
 away to give the needful height for a public rooni. 
 Whether it then bore its present strange name of 
 " The Blue Idol " we have no means of knovnng. 
 
THE TIME OF HER LIFE 19 
 
 The morning meeting was small, some score 
 of country folk only, with the Warminghurst 
 party. How sweet and quiet it was, with the 
 door open to the green orchard, the coo of the 
 turtle dove and the occasional triU of the nightin- 
 gale alone breaking the stillness. 
 
 William Penn sat in the little gallery, with his 
 wife beside him, in her silvery silken gown and 
 hood, and also an elderly pair of country Friends. 
 This old farmer, in a smock frock, first broke the 
 silence with a homely lesson on the story of the 
 Prodigal Son — such a West Sussex version of the 
 parable, with the " far country " evidently repre- 
 sented to his mind by the nearest market town. 
 
 Then William Penn knelt in prayer, a prayer 
 that Tryphena never forgot — so simple, so 
 trustful, so full of thankfulness, so assured of the 
 Love which hovered over the worshippers ; it 
 seemed to sanctify the whole of the long silence 
 which followed. 
 
 WTien the meeting broke up, William Penn 
 said, " Friends, I have a concern to appoint a 
 meeting for this afternoon at three o'clock. Can 
 you let your neighbours know ? " 
 
 Eagerly those present responded. " I can 
 tell each house in Coneyhurst," said an old 
 woman. " I will walk round by Saucelands and 
 Butterstalks," said a young girl ; and her brother 
 added, " I will take Coolham and Dragon's 
 
20 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 Green " ; while a young man volunteered, " I 
 have my nag here, and I will ride straight to 
 Billingshurst, and tell all who are likely to come " ; 
 and all departed on their errand, most willing of 
 messengers. 
 
 Then a table was brought into the meeting 
 room, and Guli Penn's sedate maid, Rachel, 
 spread it with such fare as Tryphena had never 
 seen — such chicken pies, fruit conserve tarts, and 
 whipped cream. It was enjoyed by all, and 
 would have been more so had not a rather grim 
 looking farmer, John Longhurst, remained to 
 consult William Penn as to whether he should 
 emigrate with his family to the new colony, to 
 whose involved statements the great man listened 
 with patient courtesy. 
 
 He followed them also when they strolled out 
 into the meadows — such meadows ! yellow with 
 cowslips, and round the hedges borders of azure 
 bluebells, delicate windflowers and stitchwort, 
 and bright crimson early vetch. 
 
 The children were wild with pleasure, and when 
 two rival cuckoos tried to shoixt each other down 
 they laughed and skipped with glee. Williani 
 and Gulielma Penn looked on, smiling, but John 
 Longhurst's long face grew longer, and he said 
 sourly, 
 
 " Dost thou countenance such light behaviour 
 in thy children ? " 
 
THE TIME OF HER LIFE 2i 
 
 " It is as natural for children as for those lambs 
 to race and jump about." 
 
 " Is it seemly to pick posies on the Sabbath ? " 
 
 " Quite as much as for thee and me to discuss 
 the prospect of worldly gain in Pennsylvania, as 
 we have been doing." 
 
 John Longhurst grunted, but returned to the 
 charge : " Dost thou not believe in the Scriptural 
 injunction to keep the Sabbath day holy ? " 
 
 " If thou means the Jewish Sabbath we should 
 have kept it yesterday. To-day is First, not 
 Seventh day. It is the day sanctified by the 
 resurrection of our Lord from the grave. It is 
 meet that it should be kept by holding on it our 
 religious assemblies, but it is not the Jewish 
 Sabbath, Friend Longhurst, nor are Christians 
 bound by Jewish ceremonial law. I like my 
 family to be happy on it, in sober fashion ; and 
 as for that little town-bred maiden, it is meet 
 that she should rejoice, for she never saw fields 
 of cowslips before." 
 
 John Longhurst was silenced, and departed 
 saying he would send his young people to the 
 afternoon meeting, and do the milking himself 
 for once. 
 
 William Penn strolled on with his family 
 until half an hour before the time of the appointed 
 meeting, when he left them, and walked away by 
 himself into the wood, there, in its secluded 
 
22 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 depths, to seek for renewal of spiritual power for 
 the engagement before him. 
 
 Gulielma sat down on a fallen tree, and calling 
 the children to her, said gently, " We will say 
 over once more the new First day Psalms you 
 have been learning to repeat to father this 
 evening. Come, my little Guli, we are in green 
 pastures and by stiU waters, so thine will be quite 
 right to begin with ; " and the small maiden 
 stood before her and went through the verses 
 slowly and reverently. The older children 
 followed, and then the lady said, " Does our 
 little visitor know one too ? " "I can say 
 Mother's favourite — the forty-sixth, " said 
 Tryphena, and began, " God is our Refuge and 
 Strength " ; acquitting herself quite as well as 
 the more gently bred children. 
 
 Sobered by this quiet time, the little party 
 returned to the Meeting House, and were met 
 by Rachel. " Oh, mistress," she said, " the house 
 is quite fuU already. The whole neighbourhood 
 seems to be here. Shall I take the children up 
 into the bedroom, which hath an opening above 
 the gallery ? " 
 
 A trapdoor had been opened, and Tryphena 
 found herself looking down on crowds of simple 
 country folk, every seat filled, except those left 
 for WilUam Penn and his wife. She passed at 
 once to her place, and although it was stiU some 
 
THE TIME OF HER LIFE 23 
 
 time before the appointed hour, a great hush fell 
 on the assembly. 
 
 Just at three o'clock Tryphena, peeping down, 
 saw William Penn stride up to the sunny doorway. 
 He removed his hat, and began to speak as he 
 crossed the threshold and walked up to the 
 minister's gallery. His clear voice reached to 
 the group above his head, and every ear listened 
 entranced to that marvellous gift of inspired 
 eloquence, as freely poured forth to these Sussex 
 peasants as to his large audiences in London or 
 Cambridge. But his practical mind remembered 
 their simpHcity, and he clothed his gospel truths in 
 simple, homely language that a child could 
 understand. 
 
 That sermon was to Tryphena the great crisis 
 of her life. A well-trained, obedient child she 
 had always been, but from that hour the faith 
 in the Lord Jesus Christ as a personal Saviour 
 and ever-present Friend became a reality to her, 
 and the mainspring of conduct throughout her 
 long life, although at the time she hardly realised 
 how great a gift had come to her. 
 
 The meeting lasted long, and when it was over 
 the people seemed loth to go, clustering round 
 William Penn until all the rest were in the coach, 
 and he stepped in, and drove away. " My father 
 likes to be quiet after his meetings," said the 
 thoughtful eldest boy, Springett, to Tryphena, 
 
24 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 but the caution was unneeded for her heart was 
 too full for speech. 
 
 At Worminghurst, after the pleasant evening 
 meal, the Psalms were repeated, and the tired 
 children sent early to bed. 
 
 On Monday morning the little guest bid farewell 
 to the beautiful country home, and with Letitia 
 and her parents started on the return drive to 
 Brighthelmstone. 
 
 At the foot of Beeding Hill a trace horse was 
 waiting to help pull coaches up the steep road, or 
 bostel, as such hill tracks are called in Sussex. 
 William Penn got out to walk, and helped his active 
 Letitia to jump down also, but said smiling, 
 " Friend Tryphena's weight will make little 
 diflference to the horses, so she can keep Friend 
 Guli company." Up and up they wound, and 
 once, when the horses stopped to take breath, 
 Tryphena leaned from the window and looked 
 back on the beautiful Weald. 
 
 " Dost thou think," she said, drawn out by 
 the sympathetic face beside her, " that the 
 Heavenly land where my father and little 
 brother Tim are gone can be more lovely than 
 this ? " 
 
 " I think it is," said Guli Penn, smiling ; " the 
 country does look beautiful from here, certainly, 
 but we know that down there are mud and 
 thorns — aye, and sin and sorrow, and suffering, 
 
THE TIME OF HER LIFE 25 
 
 in the houses too ; and in the Heavenly home 
 there is no more sorrow or pain." 
 
 " Mother often spoke of that when we lost 
 Tim — ^he had had so much pain, poor litfle hoy, 
 and we used to rub his limbs, and rock him^ and 
 tell him stories — oh ! it does seem as if he piust 
 want us there. He was always rather afraid of 
 father, and of all strangers, and he could not sing, 
 or play on a harp," and the brown eyes filled 
 with tears. 
 
 " Dear little one," said Guli Penn, " thou 
 mayest be sure that the dear Lord Jesus who 
 called the children to Him on earth, wiU make 
 them perfectly happy in His Heavenly home. I 
 have three Kttle ones there, and of this I feel the 
 fullest assurance. Thy little Tim was lame and 
 suffering — think of him as bounding over soft 
 green hills, more beautiful than these, quite 
 strong and well. Didst thou ever hear of Martin 
 Luther ? " 
 
 " I know he was a good man who helped people 
 to read the Bible. Father had a book about him, 
 but it was too hard for me." 
 
 " I saw a copy of a letter once which he wrote 
 to his little boy Hans, to encourage him to be 
 good, and love the Lord. He said that for good 
 boys there was a lovely garden, full of trees with 
 wonderful fruit, and that they had beautiful 
 little horses to ride, with golden saddles, and shot 
 
26 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 with golden crossbows. He wished his little son 
 to beHeve that heaven is all that is delightsome, 
 prepared by the dear Saviour for them that 
 love Him." 
 
 Tryphena drew a long breath. " How Tim 
 would like that," she said. " All these beautiful, 
 beautiful days I have kept thinking, ' Oh, if I 
 could only tell Tim about it all ! ' He did love 
 stories, and I never had anything very nice to 
 tell him, but if he is quite happy he will not need 
 them." 
 
 " Thou must tell them to thy dear mother ; 
 she will like to hear." 
 
 " Oh, 5he will — so much ! As we sit at 
 work I shall tell her over and over about the 
 drive, and Warminghurst, and the beautiful 
 meadows at Thakeham, and the meeting, and 
 aU your kindness. If I live to be a hundred 
 years old, I do not expect ever to have such 
 another time. You have given me a treasure 
 for my whole life." 
 
 " My dear husband loves little maids, and I 
 am very glad he brought thee vnth him, and if 
 thou remembers his First-day discourse, thy visit 
 vwll not have been in vain." 
 
 Here the coach stopped for the others to get 
 in, and the drive over the Downs was all too short 
 for Tryphena. 
 
 Her mother could hardly believe that three 
 
THE TIME OF HER LIFE 27 
 
 days' absence could have improved the child so 
 much. She actually looked plumper, her eyes 
 were bright, her mouth had lost its sad droop, 
 and she poured out happy memories by the hour 
 together. 
 
 It was indeed the time of her life, for in after 
 years she seldom went beyond the bounds of her 
 native town, but supported her mother in her 
 old age by their useful trades of baking and 
 spinning ; diligently attending all meetings of 
 Friends within her reach, and doing many a 
 kindness among the poor and suflEering around her. 
 
 She lived to be very old, and told the story 
 of her ride in William Penn's coach to another 
 Friend of exceptionally great age, whom many 
 now living remember, so that only one long life 
 lies between the present day and the real Tryphena 
 Holloway. 
 
BECKY'S BOOK 
 
 A Glimpse of Quaker Life in Homespun Days 
 
 1714 
 
 The sun was near its setting on a sultry June 
 evening in th-e year 1714, when two travellers, 
 weary and dust-covered, were plodding along the 
 narrow Surrey lanes. Far too rough and narrow 
 for wheels were many of these lanes, so that riding 
 on horseback was the inevitable mode of travelling, 
 even for elderly people, and this couple were 
 mounted on horses so strong and good as to 
 proclaim them in comfortable circumstances, 
 although their quaint raiment was of Puritanica 
 plainness with no pretension to gentility about it. 
 Benedictus Martin was a yeoman ; honest, 
 thrifty, and much respected, with a ruddy, sun- 
 tanned face, striaghtforward grey eyes, and Saxon 
 fairness of hair. His great roan mare carried, 
 besides his portly weight, a well-filled pair of 
 saddle-bags, but their pace was but slow, and for 
 esser journeys she was well accustomed to the 
 pillion saddle, with the mistress mounted behind 
 the master ; but as they had just accomplished a 
 journey to London — ^fuUy thirty miles away — the 
 
 21 
 
BECKY'S BOOK 29 
 
 second rider was now mounted on an equally good 
 horse by herself. 
 
 A remarkable woman was Susannah Martin, in 
 spite of the homely simplicity of her bringing up. 
 A gentle placidity made the face beneath the plain 
 riding hood motherly and attractive, but the broad 
 forehead and keen brown feyes told of an intellect 
 far beyond the average ; the combination of 
 qualities making her the " Mother in Israel " in 
 her little circle which she is recorded to have been 
 in a quaint book of religious memoirs, published 
 in 1735 under the title of Piety Promoted. 
 
 *' We are almost home now, wife," said Bene- 
 dictus, " I can spy the Hunts Green chimneys 
 between the elm-trees," adding, as his wife looked 
 eagerly forward, "Ah, thy heart has been here all 
 the time, in spite of the fine friends and fine things 
 we have seen in London town. Thou art ever 
 anxious lest harm should come to thy two chicks." 
 
 " Nay, Benedict," said the wife smiling, " not 
 unduly anxious, for I have ever felt a strong sense 
 of the Divine protection being over our dear 
 daughters — and Aunt Mary Martin guards them 
 well, but I feel some natural impatience to see 
 them again, and I know that thou dost the same." 
 
 A turn of the lane brought them into full view 
 of a comfortable red farmhouse, its gabled roof 
 covered with the picturesque stone slabs common 
 in the district, mossy and lichen stained, with a 
 
30 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 goodly array of well-thatched barns and sheds 
 behind it. 
 
 Two slender girlish figures who were busying 
 themselves among the herbs, and sweet-scented, 
 old-fashioned flowers in the low walled garden 
 before the house, paused to listen as the sound of 
 hoofs fell on their ears. Then recognising the 
 riders, they flew to open the gate with such eager 
 haste that the prim linen cap of the elder girl fell 
 to the ground, showing an abundant crop of fair 
 hair. Molly Martin was her father over again, 
 honest, sturdy, and practical ; while Rebekah 
 who was but sixteen, was slender and dark like 
 the mother, but with a dreamy, unsatisfied look 
 in her soft brown eyes. Both gave a warm wel- 
 come to their parents, and if the embraces, after 
 the travellers had alighted at the horse-block cf 
 massive mossy stones, were more formal and 
 reverential than modern parenthood exacts, they 
 were none the less hearty. Benedict Martin fol- 
 lowed the lad who came to take the horses to the 
 stable to give special directions for the welfare of 
 the animals, after a journey which seemed to these 
 simple country folk as great an undertaking as a 
 trip across the Atlantic would be nowadays. 
 Busy Molly flew off to make some addition to the 
 supper table, while Becky clung to her mother, 
 and went up the wide oak staircase with her to 
 see that all was ready for her comfort in the quaint 
 
BECKY'S BOOK 31 
 
 bed-chamber above. By the time that Molly's 
 ham and eggs were ready, a goodly group was 
 gathered round the massive oak table in the large, 
 low-pitched farm kitchen, for man and maid ate 
 Vvith the master's family in those primitive days. 
 
 Aunt Mary Martin, a vigorous old dame who 
 had taken charge of the household in the absence 
 of her nephew and his wife, had the place of 
 honour, while " below the salt " were modestly 
 grouped a white-haired old retainer, Peter by 
 name, who had faithfully served three generations 
 of Martins ; two stout, red-armed maids ; and 
 several bashful, shock-headed lads. 
 
 A farm in the eighteenth century was almost 
 self-supporting, and little upon that homely table 
 came f rpm other sources. The big brown loaf was 
 of home-grown wheat, ground at the windmill on 
 the neighbouring heath ; the bacon, butter, and 
 cheese, and also the mead and cider which were 
 the universal beverages, were all produced and 
 manufactured under the watchful eyes of the good 
 yeoman and his wife. The farm being freehold, 
 they were accounted to be well supplied with this 
 world's goods, and their two daughters as some- 
 what of heiresses. 
 
 The talk over the supper table brought out 
 strongly the characters of the two maidens — Molly 
 was eager to tell the home news ; Rebekah to 
 hear all her father and mother could tell her of 
 
32 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 the great world which lay beyond the hedgerows 
 of Hunts Green, 
 
 " It is good to be home again," said Benedictus, 
 " it feels so sweet and quiet after the sulphurous 
 air and racket of London ; and just now, because 
 poor Queen Anne lies at the point of death, all 
 the tongues are wagging as to who will be her 
 successor." 
 
 " Ah, poor Queen," said the gentle voice of the 
 mother, " not one of all her many children lives 
 to take her .place on the throne. I doubt me there 
 is too much both of pampering and restraint in 
 the life of a Court to be wholesome for the little 
 ones." 
 
 " And who do they say will be king, father ? " 
 asked Rebekah, eagerly. 
 
 " The Queen's second cousin, George of Han- 
 over, I expect," said Benedictus, " but they say 
 he is but dull, and speaks only German — I cannot 
 say that I fancy him as a ruler." 
 
 " But thou would not wish to see the Stuarts 
 back, father ? " 
 
 " Nay, nay, Becky, we must have a king who 
 is no papist, and who will allow liberty of con- 
 science, and keep his given word, which the Stuart 
 kings could never do. I only trust that the 
 question v'^ !.e settled without bringing war and 
 bloodshed on our poor country," and Benedictus 
 poured out a second cup of cider with a grave face. 
 
BECKY'S BOOK 33 
 
 The pause was broken by Molly. " Father, 
 neighbour Bonwick wishes to buy the sorrel colt ; 
 he has been here twice about it. Thoii won't sell 
 him, wilt thou ? He will make a beautiful nag 
 for Becky and me when he is broken in ! " 
 
 The father laughed, and gave no promise, but 
 proceeded to ask various questions as to how the 
 farm had fared in his absence, concluding with : 
 
 " Had Peter sheared the sheep ? " 
 
 " Indeed he has," answered Aunt Mary Martin, 
 " and what do you think this good Molly of yours 
 has done ? She will never let the grass grow under 
 her feet ! The fleeces were barely off the sheep's 
 backs when she went to work with the maids, 
 washing and drying, and carding and spinning, 
 until they have yarn enough for the couple of 
 large blankets which were needed before winter." 
 
 The parents commended the blushing Molly, 
 and she further explained to her mother : " Thou 
 knows that Becky and I both needed new tuck 
 aprons, so we span the black sheep's fleece first 
 of all, and have already taken it to weaver Miles 
 to make into linsey woolsey for us, and when it 
 comes back we mean to make our old aprons into 
 a warm gown for widow Bates' little Nance." 
 
 This project being cordially approved, the 
 great-aunt went on to commend Rebekah, for she 
 was a just woman, although Molly was decidedly 
 her favourite. 
 
34 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 " And Becky here has been spinning some of that 
 very soft flax. I never saw a finer or evener 
 thread. It will make a beautiful lawn for ker- 
 chiefs or caps. She has also stilled enough 
 peppermint and other strong waters to dose the 
 neighbourhood ; and they both manage the dairy 
 and the cheese like two old women ! They are a 
 credit tp thy training, niece Susannah ! " 
 
 The mother coloured with pleasure, but only 
 said simply, 
 
 " The Lord hath granted them good under- 
 standings and strong healthy bodies. I trust 
 that they will ever use their powers in His 
 service." 
 
 When the supper table was cleared, and the 
 servants had withdrawn, some London presents 
 were brought out for the girls^enough of soft 
 grey camlet to make a gown for each, and two 
 black silk riding hoods — simple enough, but with 
 an air of town eleganqe in their shape which, 
 enchanted Molly, who tried to make a mirror 
 of the bright warming pan which hung by the 
 casement. 
 
 But a convex copper Ud, however brilliantly 
 polished, is not flattering to a fresh young face, 
 so the hood was transferred to the hand again and 
 held up, and chattered about until the father, 
 turning to the quieter ypunger daughter, bade 
 her fetch his saddle bags, as he had somediing 
 
BECKY'S BOOK 35 
 
 there which woiild suit her fancy as well as the 
 i&nery did MoUy's. 
 
 " Oh, father ! a new book ? " she exclaimed, 
 with rising colour. 
 
 " Aye, Becky, and a rare good one that I bought 
 in a shop in Gracechurch Street the very day it 
 was published — ah, here it is," and he drew forth 
 a thick volume covered with brown leather. " It 
 is called The History of the Life of Thomas Ellwood. 
 Dost thou remember seeing him at thy uncle 
 Thompson's the day that I took thee to Reigate 
 on the pillion ? " 
 
 Indeed Becky did remember. That journey to 
 Reigate had been one of the few events of her 
 quiet life, and the sight of the benevolent old man 
 who had written many books, was no light matter 
 to the intelligent young soul, tvex thirsting for 
 knowledge, and finding it hard to come by in her 
 farm-house home. Besides, was not Thomas EU- 
 wood the author of the lines which both girls had 
 leafnt at their mother's knee , and even yet often 
 repeated to her of a quiet First day evening : — 
 
 " Oh, that mine eyes might closed be 
 To what becomes me not to see. 
 That deafness may possess my ear 
 To what becomes me not to hear ? " 
 
 " There is the book, dear daughter, but put it 
 away now in the best parlour, for it is bedtime. 
 When the long dark evenings come, thou shalt 
 
$6 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 read it aloud to us. Summertime, with the cheese 
 and the hay, and the harvest, is no time for books 
 on a farm." 
 
 " May I not read it before winter ? " asked 
 Rebekah, looking rather blank. 
 
 " Oh, yes, if none of the tasks which thy mother 
 sets thee are neglected. I thought of thee, little 
 bookworm, when I bought the volume." 
 
 Slowly Rebekah carried off the treasure, with 
 many peeps between the leaves before she could 
 leave it on the side table of solid, polished oak. 
 
 She saw that her father had taken the precaution 
 to write both at the beginning and end of the 
 volume " Benedictus Martin, his book, 1714," and 
 she placed it with the score or so of soberly-bound 
 volumes which formed the whole library of the 
 family, except the great Bible which had a little 
 table to itself in the farm kitchen. 
 
 How often had Rebekah read and re-read those 
 few books ! She loved the quiet best parlour, 
 with its pannelled walls, sanded floor, white linen 
 curtains, and its corner cupboard with the small 
 store of china and glass for great occasions, the 
 common table service being of pewter and horn. 
 
 What changes has time wrought ! That best 
 parlour is now the parlour of a farm bailiff. 
 Modern gimcracks of all descriptions crowd the 
 corner cupboard, photographic portraits and 
 gorgeous oleographs hang on the pannelled walls, 
 
■ BECKY'S BOOK 37 
 
 and a cheap sewing machine has taken the place of 
 Susannah Martin's dainty spinning wheel. 
 
 Many an evening during that busy summer did 
 Becky steal away to her precious book. How 
 fascinating it was to her ; from Thomas EUwood's 
 schooldays, when, for his mischievous pranks, 
 " he wore out more birch than most boys ; " 
 through his troubled youth, when for the cause 
 of Uberty of conscience he suffered cruel im- 
 prisonment. How he became reader to the blind 
 poet, John Milton, and ventured to suggest to 
 him that Paradise Lost should be followed by 
 Paradise Regained. His adventures while acting 
 as escort to the fair heiress, Gulielma Springett, 
 afterwards the wife of the founder of Pennsyl- 
 vania ; his deliberate wooing of Mary EUis, and 
 happy life with her ; and even the laborious, and 
 rather doggerel, poems which he wrote from time 
 to time — aU was delightful to the unsophisticated 
 Becky. 
 
 MoUy by no means approved of this absorption 
 of her sister. She considered that studious habits 
 were mere idleness, although she, as well as Becky, 
 had been given the best education their parents 
 could arrange for them at their remote 
 farm. 
 
 Finding that no teasing would move her young 
 sister, MoUy resolved to administer a reproof in 
 writing. 
 
38 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 Taking advantage of Becky's absence, she 
 having accompanied her mother on one of Mrs. 
 Martin's many errands among the sick and poor, 
 Molly sUpped into the best parlour, and taking a 
 quill in her unaccustomed fingers, she proceeded 
 to write in a neat, cramped hand, lengthways of 
 the cover of the cherished new book, the words 
 
 " Go to the ant, thou s ." But, just as she 
 
 laboriously completed the letter s, a cheery voice 
 said, " Well, this is something new, to find Molly 
 among the scribes ! What art writing, my 
 daughter ? " 
 
 Molly started and blushed as the worthy yeoman 
 looked over her shoulder, and read the unfinished 
 sentence. 
 
 " A good admonition, truly, but Thomas Ell- 
 wood was no sluggard, nor is Molly Martin either, 
 for I heard thy voice in the yard before four of 
 the clock this morning. We have no sluggards 
 here at Hunts Green that I know of, so why 
 write it ? "^ 
 
 " Well, father — of late it has seemed to me," 
 said MoUy, hesitating, " that Becky is growing 
 into a little bit of one." 
 
 " And so thou scribbles in my new book, and 
 quotes King Solomon to reprove her f I think 
 that thou might leave the task of admonishing to 
 thy good mother, who never neglects a needful 
 reproof. But I have not seen,any need. Rebekah 
 
BECKY'S BOOK 39 
 
 is an industrious and thrifty maiden, if not quite 
 such a fly-about as thou. What household work 
 dost thou accuse her of neglecting ? " 
 
 " It is not housework, father, but spinning. 
 When Aunt Mary was here she got carpenter 
 Simmons to make us each a fine dower-chest as 
 her gift. She said we were to fill them as soon as 
 possible with good linen, for every maid ought to 
 lay up for the time when she may have no leisure 
 to spin. Our flax field yielded so well last year 
 that mother said we might have as much as we 
 could spin at leisure times — and now Becky comes 
 mooning in the parlour over this book, and will 
 not spin a thread ! " 
 
 " A store against the time that thou are wedded, 
 eh f But who knows whether you may not be 
 two elderly maiden sisters, living together at 
 Hunts Green with nothing to do but to spin ? " 
 
 Molly looked rather taken aback, and then 
 dimpled demurely, remembering a certainfyoung 
 farmer from the Surrey hUls who was most ingeni- 
 ous in devising frequent errands to the house. 
 
 " But thou dost not object to our having the 
 flax, father ? " she said. 
 
 " No, certainly, I like you to be busy and 
 thrifty ; but do not tease Becky about it. She 
 is three years younger than thee, and something 
 of a child still — -and do not finish thy text in the 
 bopk — I like not such use of Bible words, although 
 
4fl THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 I have been tempted myself to alter a text when 
 I hear too careful housewives talk of spinning, and 
 say, ' A woman's life consisteth not in the abund- 
 dance of linen which she possesseth.' Now get 
 thy hood, and come out with me to see how the 
 calves are faring in the five acres." 
 
 When the winter came the book was read aloud 
 to the family gathered round the great wood fire, 
 on which they chiefly depended for light for 
 spinning and knitting, the reader being seated 
 close to a home-made rush light, which yielded 
 but a feeble flame. 
 
 Benedictus sometimes nodded, but his wife 
 found it intensely interesting, and even Molly 
 enjoyed the reading, as she whirred the wheel 
 and wound the linen yarn. 
 
 Her motive for industry was stronger now, for 
 she was betrothed to the young farmer ; but 
 although he was a son-in-law after their own 
 heart, her parents wished for a year or two's 
 delay before their young Molly should take upon 
 herself the responsibilities of matronhood. So the 
 dower chest was filled to overflowing with good 
 tablecloths, sheets and curtains, and even linen 
 gowns for the summer ; all the produce of that 
 field on the farm which in summer waved its 
 lovely blue blossoms in the sunshine, and is to 
 this day called " the Flax Field." 
 
 Rebekah stayed with her parents for some years, 
 
BECKY'S BOOK 4t 
 
 a quiet, retiring maiden, but wonderfully efficient 
 and Hnd-hearted, until her good qualities were 
 discovered by a worthy and prosperous young 
 man, who owned a flour mill, with a good 
 dwelling-house beside it, on the banks of one of 
 the small, sluggish rivers of Sussex. 
 
 Thither Rebekah consented to go, not without 
 qualms at leaving her parents (for the new home 
 was at the alarming distance of twenty miles 
 from the old one), but they were still healthy and 
 active, and had moreover an orphan niece who 
 needed a home. 
 
 The last First day before the marriage, as they 
 were sitting quietly in the panelled parlour, 
 Benedictus said to his daughter, taking up the 
 cherished book, " Here, Becky, my child, take 
 this with thee, and read it to thy Thomas. I 
 bought it chiefly to please thee, although I wrote 
 my name in it." 
 
 Rebekah took it gladly, and packed it among 
 the lavender-scented linen in the big chest, which 
 was now well filled, ready to go to the new home. 
 
 When she took it out, whUe unpacking and 
 arranging her possessions, she laid it in her best 
 parlour. Suddenly the thought struck her that 
 as it was now hers, she must write in it her new 
 name and abode — ^yes, and she would add a 
 confession of faith also, so that her new relations 
 might know what Master she loved and followed. 
 
THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 in large clear writing she made the inscrip- 
 
 So 
 
 tion : — 
 
 " Rebekah Rickman is my name. 
 And England is my nation, 
 Barcomb is my dwelling place. 
 And Christ is my salvation." 
 
 There it stands still, in ink brown and faded, in 
 the quaint old book. 
 
 More than a century after the young bride 
 brought it to her new home, her descendants 
 having died or drifted away, there was a sale of 
 old furniture at the mill house, and an old man 
 who bought the books happened to recognise the 
 names, and sent it — not to the great-great-grand- 
 children of Rebekah, but of Molly Martin. 
 
 The surname has died out, but the old farm, 
 the old books, the antique silver spoons, and, 
 above aU, the inheritance of their good name, 
 still remain to the descendants of Benedictus and 
 Susannah Martin and their two daughters. 
 
ABRAHAM'S OAK 
 
 1725 
 
 There was a busy scene one brilliant April 
 morning of the year 1725 in a place that was 
 normally a deep solitude in the forest region of 
 Northern Sussex. All around the ground was 
 carpeted with bright spring flowers, anemones, 
 primroses, goldilocks, and large dog violets. The 
 air was full of bird notes. The song of the ox-eye 
 tit, exhorting his hearers to " Set your beans ! 
 Set your beans ! " mingled with the cry of the 
 wryneck, locally called " the flawing bird," be- 
 cause it is always in evidence when oak trees 
 are flawed, or stripped of their bark. This task 
 was going on now. A dozen giant oaks, all but 
 one that were large enough to be worth felling in 
 this particular copse, lay prone in all directions, 
 gaunt and white, for the bark was set up in long 
 TOWS to dry for the tanner. One of the trimmed 
 trunks had been laboriously hoisted, with the 
 primitive machinery of those days, on to a timber 
 waggon, and drawn outside the wood by eight 
 strong red oxen, who were now taking their 
 noonday rest, standing like statues under their 
 
 43 
 
44 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 heavy wooden yokes, except for the steady work- 
 ing of their lower jaws, one of the advantages of 
 an. ox team being that they carry internal pro- 
 vision for the day, and so need no nosebags. 
 
 A dozen sturdy labourers were also taking their 
 meal, before pulling down the last tree in the wood 
 which, its magnificent trunk nearly severed, still 
 stood erect, its yellow green young leaves, and 
 catkins which would never come to acorns, 
 standing up bravely against the cloudless blue 
 sky. 
 
 A little apart, on a fallen trunk, were seated 
 the seller and buyer of the timber, the latter a 
 keen-eyed middle-aged man, whose garb, though 
 of the plainest Quaker cut, showed that he was a 
 weU-to-do tradesman from a town, as did the 
 strong bay horse which was allowed to graze in 
 an adjoining meadow, while its owner, John 
 Deane, shared the bread and cheese and cider of 
 the owner of the woodland. 
 
 John Prier was a younger man, a simple Sussex 
 yeoman, but behind the sturdy honesty of his face 
 was the thoughtful refinement which genuine 
 Christianity brings with it. Leaning against his 
 knee was his only child, a boy of nine years, a 
 little copy of his father in his leather breeches and 
 long-tailed homespun coat, an excellent specimen 
 of a rosy, chubby country lad. 
 
 " Go down to the stream and pick thy mother 
 
ABRAHAM'S OAK 45 
 
 a posy, Abie, my boy — Friend Deane and I are 
 going to talk business," said John Prier, when the 
 meal was finished. " But I want to see the last 
 tree fall — thou wilt call me, when they are ready, 
 won't thou, father ? " said little Abraham, 
 eagerly. " Oh, yes, thou shalt see it fall," and 
 away went the boy, jumping gaily down the steep 
 slope to where the edge of a little brook was gay 
 with marsh marigolds. 
 
 The two men went soberly to work, reckoning 
 the value of the oak timber. 
 
 " When my old father died last year," said 
 John Prier, " he left me the farm as the eldest 
 son, but I have to pay the portions of the others. 
 I want to do it as soon as possible — ^brother 
 Edward needs capital for his dairy business at 
 Dorking — a fine team of cows he has, and could 
 do with more. Then sisters Susan and Lydia's 
 husbands have a struggle to get a living from 
 their small farms, so I felt it best to have a broke 
 of the timber. Job Humphrey, the wheelwright 
 of Crawley, bought two fine ash trees and three 
 elms, and when thou pays for these oaks I shall 
 only owe them a small sum each, which I hope 
 to work off by degrees from the farm ; but, as 
 thou knows, ready money is not plentiful, and 
 my Nancy, though her price is above rubies as 
 a wife and mother, had no portion of this world's 
 goods." 
 
4^ THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 " If thou wilt fell those six large oaks up in the 
 home paddock next year, I will buy them. The 
 one near the house is a fine, straight bit of 
 timber." 
 
 " Nay, nay, Friend Degne — those trees I cannot 
 part with. Five of them shelter the homestead 
 from the north-east, and as for Abraham's oak, 
 as we call it, it is as good as a play-fellow for my 
 lonely boy. Ever since he was a baby he has 
 amused himself under its shadow, where his 
 mother could keep her eye on him from her 
 kitchen window. I have known him pick up nigh 
 a bushel of acorns from that tree alone, when he 
 was not more than five years old — nay, we must 
 not cut Abie's oak — ^unless — ^it was always a 
 desire of mine to give him a good education. 
 That would be an inheritance that no one could 
 take from him. To send him to a good school 
 I might even cut his oak." 
 
 John Deane was surprised. He knew that 
 honest John Prier was no scholar himself. He 
 could not even write his own name, although he 
 could read well, and had the marvellous memory 
 of those who have never trusted to note books. 
 
 " Why should Abie learn more than his worthy 
 parents ? " he asked. 
 
 " George Fox always upheld good, plain school- 
 ing for young Friends, and there is a rare good 
 school at Brighthelmstone, kept by John Grover. 
 
ABRAHAM'S OAK 47 
 
 Friend Stapley says he is making a fine scholar of 
 his lad Anthony, and that there is a real Friendly 
 influence among them all. Thou sees in our 
 Society we never know on whom the Lord may 
 lay a gift in the ministry, and a call to public 
 service — surely our sons and daughters should be 
 prepared for that ? " 
 
 " Book learning is not needed for a Friend to 
 preach to edification, if he has the true Seed 
 within him. Our Lord's first disciples were 
 simple fishermen of Galilee." 
 
 " Yes, Friend Deane, but Peter, and James, 
 and John must have had some earthly learning, 
 as well as heavenly wisdom, before they wrote 
 those epistles which give us such blessed teaching. 
 Many of the unlearned have been greatly used for 
 good in our Society, but we need the scholars too. 
 How useful Friend EUwood has been in making 
 the writings for all the new Meeting Houses ! 
 And dost not thou remember what our elders 
 have told us of William Penn's wonderful power 
 in preaching ? He made good use of his book- 
 learning ; and his Guli, what an influence she 
 had in her gentle courtesy to aU ! After she 
 died, when the news came that WiUiam was to 
 take as second wife Hannah Callowhill, of Bristol, 
 my father was appointed by the Monthly Meeting 
 to enquire into his clearness of other marriage 
 engagements. I remember father saying there 
 
48 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 was little chance of William Penn looking at any 
 of our homely Sussex maidens, after such a 
 gentlewoman as Guli, and I reckon that Hannah 
 Penn was of the same sort. I trust that Abraham 
 will always be an honest yeoman on the old farm, 
 but that is no reason why he should not have all 
 the book learning I can get for him." 
 
 " Well, I hope thou wilt manage it, for he is a 
 bright lad ; and now I will go and call him, for 
 I see my men are ready to bring down the last 
 tree." And John Deane strode away among the 
 hazels towards the dell where Abie had disappeared. 
 
 He was startled by a sudden crash. By some 
 inexplicable accident the great tree swerved, 
 rocked, and fell over at quite a different point to 
 that arranged for, and John Deane saw the 
 sturdy form of John Prier struck down by some 
 of the lesser branches, and pinned face downward 
 on the soil. With frantic haste he and his men 
 tried to lift the branches, but in vain, and they 
 were just beginning to saw them away when poor 
 little Abraham rushed up, crying pitifully that 
 father was killed. 
 
 " No, my boy, I trust not," said kind John 
 Deane. " We will soon get him out, and thee 
 take my hat, and fiU it with water at the brook, 
 to revive him." 
 
 Away ran Abie, and soon returned, carefully 
 carrying the felt hat full of water, and by that 
 
ABRAHAM'S OAK 49 
 
 time John Prier was lying clear of the boughs, 
 leaning against his friend, and gasping painfully. 
 They bathed his face and hands, and in answer 
 to the boy's eager questions, he murmured, " not 
 much hurt ; only dazed like." After a little time 
 he tried to rise, but sank back. " I seem to have 
 lost my legs," he said. At a word from their 
 master the strong workmen laid their coats on a 
 new hurdle, and, gently lifting him, carried him 
 through the fields to the house, and laid him on 
 the great four-post bed, with checked linen 
 curtains, where he lay helpless for many a day, 
 devotedly nursed by his good wife, Nancy. 
 
 John Deane brought a doctor from Horsham ; 
 but the country practitioner of those days knew 
 little of the human frame, and could do nothing 
 to restore the lost power in the lower limbs. By- 
 and-by, he managed to sit up in a great chair, 
 which was wheeled to the broad lattice window 
 in full view of Abraham's oak. 
 
 Bravely he bore the deprivation ; the sweet 
 strength of his character showing in his deter- 
 mination that no murmuring word should pass 
 his lips to add to Nancy's heavy burdens, or damp 
 the happy spirit of his boy. 
 
 His hands had always been remarkably clever 
 ones, and he soon began to employ them, plaiting 
 straw for hats and baskets, knitting stockings, 
 and even making straw skeps, not only for 
 
so THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 Nancy's, but for their neighbour's bees. His 
 library only numbered three volumes besides his 
 large Bible, but Friends near were glad to lend 
 him any that they possessed, and in that first 
 winter he patiently taught Abraham, until the 
 little fellow could read aloud as fluently as his 
 father. 
 
 John Frier's little son was his chief companion, 
 for Nancy was obliged to oversee the farm, 
 manage her dairy, and supplement the rather dull 
 intellects of Seth and Gainor, a brother and sister 
 whom John's mother had taken from the parish 
 thirty years before and trained into great industry 
 and faithfulness. 
 
 So eighteen months went by, and one fine 
 autumn day, when Abie was reading to his father, 
 a man's step came up the oaken stairs, and John 
 Deane's pleasant voice greeted them both. 
 
 " Friends at Monthly Meeting told me thou 
 wishes to see me, John." 
 
 " Aye, I do, and it is kind of thee to come so 
 soon." 
 
 " Oh, I had a leisure afternoon, so I brought 
 my little Mary on the pillion for a birthday treat 
 — she is eight years old to-day. She is out under 
 thy oak, Abie. Wilt thou go and play with her 
 while father and I have our talk ? " 
 
 " Say^thy last texts to Friend Deane before 
 thou goest, my son." 
 
ABRAHAM'S OAK 51 
 
 Abie stood up, put his hands behind him, and 
 spoke clearly and distinctly : 
 
 " Owe no man anything save to love one 
 another." " Provide things honest in the sight 
 of all men " — and then bounded away, eager for 
 the rare pleasure of a play-fellow. 
 
 " Those words are a legacy that I want to leave 
 my boy," said the invalid, wistfully. " I feel I 
 shall not be with him long, John Deane." 
 
 " Hast thou any fresh ailment, then ? " 
 
 " No, but my strength steadily goes. I feel I 
 have come to the place of this Pilgrim in this 
 wonderful book of John Bunyan's, which 
 Susannah Martin lent me," and he put a white, 
 wasted finger on the passage in the open Pil- 
 grim's Progress — " There came a summons that 
 he must prepare for a change of life, for his Master 
 was not willing that he should be so far from Him 
 any longer." 
 
 " If my Master needs me elsewhere I am glad 
 to go ; but I naturally think of my wife and 
 child — I want to leave them clear of debt, so I 
 sent for thee to ask if thy oflEer to buy the six 
 home oak trees stands; — ^then I could pay o£E aU 
 family claims and leave Nancy with a clesar 
 freehold to pass on to Abie." 
 
 " What ! Abie's oak too ? What of thy plans 
 for his education ? " 
 
 John Prier smiled sadly. " That has gone the 
 
52 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 way of many earthly hopes," he said. " His 
 mother could ill spare him to go to Brighthelm- 
 stone — and will even less when she is left alone. 
 She will teach him to follow his inward Guide, 
 and that is better than book learning. Now, 
 canst thou cut those oaks in the spring ? " 
 
 " Certainly I can. There is always a demand 
 for such good timber. Only last week there was 
 one of the King's shipbuilders in Horsham in- 
 quiring for it, but he gets none from me for ships 
 of war, and I am sure thou wilt feel the same. 
 But I have a friend at Shoreham who builds large 
 hoys for the coasting trade, and the bigger sorts of 
 fishing craft. Many a good tree I have sold to 
 him. And my men fill in their spare time with 
 making dressers and chests, which sell well in 
 Horsham. I shall be glad to pay thee a good 
 price for those trees." 
 
 " That is a weight oflF my mind. Nancy will, I 
 feel sure, be able to get an honest living until 
 Abie is old enough to take to the farm. She is a 
 good manager, and thrifty and industrious, as 
 thou knows." 
 
 " Indeed she is — I saw her as I rode in, busy 
 over the cider mill." 
 
 " Ah, we turn many an honest penny with 
 that. Squire Brown sent a whole waggon load of 
 apples to be crushed to-day, and Seth's hands, 
 and Nancy's wits between them manage it 
 
ABRAHAM'S OAK 53 
 
 capitally. That mill was the last thing I made 
 before my accident, little thinking that I shotdd 
 never see the juice flow from it ; but I am glad 
 I finished it that spring, for it brings in a little 
 ready money, besides making our own cider." 
 
 Meanwhile, under the oak, the children were 
 supremely happy. The acorns were dropping all 
 around them, often with a thud on head or back, 
 which brought shouts of happy laughter. A 
 wooden Sussex trug basket was soon full to the 
 brim. 
 
 " Now I must take it to the pit in the stack- 
 yard," said Abie. 
 
 " Let me help thee carry it," pleaded the little 
 maiden. 
 
 " No, thank thee, Mary. I Uke something 
 heavy to carry," and the sturdy little man 
 stumped off with his load. 
 
 " Seth has dug such a big pit for the acorns 
 this year, and I mean to fill it right up," he 
 explained. 
 
 " What can you want so many acorns for ? " 
 asked the visitor. 
 
 " Oh, for the pigs next winter, and the sheep 
 too. They get sweet after they have sprouted 
 under the wet straw we put over them. When 
 there is a long spell of snow and frost I don't know 
 what we should do without them — and my oak 
 grows such big acorns, twice as large as those in 
 
S4 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 the back pasture. I must go there now. Will 
 thee come too ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes. Do thee pick them up every 
 4ay ? " 
 
 " I must get them out of the way of the cows. 
 Last year Neighbour Bonwick's white heifer ate 
 so many whole that she died — can't let that 
 happen to our cows," said the little farmer, as 
 he began to re-iill his trug under the fine, tall 
 oaks at the back of the barn. 
 
 When they came back to the house, Nancy 
 greeted the little visitor kindly. " Take her up 
 to thy father, Abie ; he would like to see her." 
 
 Shyly, the child stood before the invalid, but 
 he soon put her at her ease. 
 
 " Look what I am making, Mary. We were 
 sorry when the poor old black cow pulled off her 
 crumpled horn in a gate, but it has just come right 
 to make buttons for the winter coat for Abie that 
 his mother is spinning out of the black sheep's 
 fleece." Home-made buttons ! Yet so delicately 
 cut and polished by the clever wJiite fingers that 
 they were not at all to be despised, and would be 
 cherished as no shop-bought buttons could ever 
 be. The little girl was interested, and was soon 
 chatting gaily, the sick man's eye§ resting on her 
 rosy faqe and flaxen hair with pleasure. 
 
 Nancy came up with a tray, and the visitors eat 
 with enjoyment her brown bread and hoiieycomb, 
 
ABRAHAM'S OAK 55 
 
 and drank cider freshly pressed from the apples 
 which had mellowed in the farm orchard. 
 
 Then the strong bay horse was brought to the 
 mounting block, and Mary perched on -die pillion, 
 holding fast to a strap round her father's waist, 
 and they jogged away along narrow lanes in the 
 sunset. 
 
 " Hast thou had a happy time, my little 
 one i " 
 
 " Oh, yes, father. Thank thee so much for 
 bringing me. I like Abie Prier to play with — only 
 it was not play — ^it was real work, picking up the 
 acorns for the winter. And isn't it grand to have 
 a big oak of his own ? The acorns are twice as 
 large as those in the meadow. Abie has a young 
 oak tree as taU as himself from an acorn from it 
 which he planted in the garden when he was a 
 little boy." 
 
 " When he was little ! What is he now, 
 then ? " said the father, laughing. 
 
 " He is ten and a half," said eight-year-old 
 Mary, impressively. 
 
 " I am glad to hear that he has a sapling, for, 
 Mary, these are the last acorns that fine oak wiU 
 grow. Friend Prier is obliged to sell it, and it 
 wiU be cut down in the spring." 
 
 " Oh, poor Abie ! He wUl be so sorry. Why 
 must they sell it, father ? " 
 
 " There is some money owing to his sisters and 
 
S6 THE^TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 brother that the honest man must pay. I think 
 he is right, but they will miss the oak." 
 
 " I shall miss it when we go there. Abie has 
 a swing on it, and has made a little farmyard 
 round the roots — oh, it does seem too bad that 
 the oak must be killed " — and the little voice 
 became quite doleful. 
 
 " Well, we will keep it to make furniture of. 
 How would thee like a nice box for thy clothes, 
 with ' M. D.' in brass nails ? " said the father, 
 cheerily. 
 
 " Oh, I should like that ! Mother said I shall 
 have a box, with a lock and key, when I am 
 twelve, for my very own." 
 
 " Well, that is about the time the oak timber 
 will be seasoned for use. It is a long while for a 
 little maiden to wait, but we won't forget that thy 
 box is to be made from the planks of Abraham's 
 oak." 
 
 They jogged on in silence for a mile or more, 
 and then the little voice from behind the broad 
 back began diffidently, 
 
 " Father, dear, it is Abie's oak, not mine. 
 Ought not he to have the box instead of me f 
 When he is a man he would like to see it, and to 
 remember what a fine oak he used to have." 
 
 " W'ell, well, perhaps we shall manage to spare 
 planks for two boxes when the time comes," 
 said John Deane, indulgently, as he turned his 
 
ABRAHAM'S OAK 57 
 
 hi?rse's head towards the Carfax, as the central 
 sqi\are of Horsham is still called, and where yet 
 may be seen the stocks and bull ring — relics of the 
 bad old times of cruelty to man and beast, against 
 which John Deane and other Friends protested 
 in vain. 
 
 It was a blow to Abraham when he was told 
 that his oak must be felled, but he was a sage 
 little man, and quite understood his father's 
 explanations that his uncle and aunts must have 
 their patrimony. 
 
 His Uncle Edward, visiting them from Dorking 
 at the right season, took pains to m-ove the 
 sapling very carefully from the garden, where 
 already it unduly shaded Nancy's herb bed. It 
 was planted in the paddock near the mother tree, 
 and strongly fenced to protect it from cattle, and 
 the interest of watching the growth of the young 
 oak was some consolation for the loss of the old. 
 
 It was but natural that when John Deane's 
 men came to fell the trees that Nancy should keep 
 her boy safely by his father's bed side. The 
 invalid noted the six crashes, as the great trees 
 fell, and when the price was paid, which settled all 
 family claims, and quite a nice sum remained for 
 Nancy, he felt he had no more care left in this 
 world. When the month of May came he peace- 
 fully passed away, and the weary frame was laid 
 in the green graveyard at Ifield Meeting House. 
 
58 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 Thither, after her busy week's work, Nancy loved 
 to go on First daysj riding on a pillion behind her 
 little son, whose legs were short for gtey Dobbin's 
 broad back. 
 
 Seated in the grey stone-built Meeting House, 
 and surrounded by other simple, devout souls, 
 she found true consolation in her loneliness, and 
 much neighbourly kindness from the group of 
 Friends who had appreciated John Frier's sterling 
 character. 
 
 After meeting she would always slip into the 
 graveyard, while Abie brought out the horse and 
 waited for her by the stone mounting block. 
 
 One day she was followed by Susannah Martin, 
 the motherly minister, to whom all Ifield Meeting 
 turned for help in times of need. She laid her 
 hand on the bowed shoulders of the young widow. 
 " Thy dear one is not here, Nancy," she said, 
 tenderly ; " not here, but risen, as was said of 
 his Divine Master. Thou must think of him as 
 satisfied, Ijiaving awaked with His likeness." 
 
 " I do, I do. Friend Martin," sobbed Nancy ; 
 " but I do miss him so. He was so wise-like, and 
 up to the last would give me counsel about every 
 little thing. Then there is Abie— he is such a 
 bright lad, and I such a poor scholar. I am 
 afraid he wiU forget what his father taught him." 
 
 " Dost thou encourage him to keep up his 
 reading ? " 
 
ABRAHAM'S OAK 59 
 
 " Oh, yes. He reads a chapter in the Bible to 
 
 me and the servants every night after supper, and 
 
 more on First days. But often 'tis all about 
 
 .battles and slaughter, and last night about 
 
 wheels full of eyes,' that neither I, nor Seth and 
 
 Gainor could make head or tail of." 
 
 Susannah Martin smiled — she had little grand- 
 sons of her own. " I must put some marks in 
 Friend Abraham's Bible," she said. " Mean- 
 while tell him to read to thee in Matthew, Mark, 
 Luke and John. They teU what we poor mortals 
 are ever needing to hear." 
 
 During this chat Abie was sitting on the horse 
 block enjoying the weekly treat which never 
 failed to comfe out of Susannah Martin's basket 
 — an apple turnover, a couple of big pears grown 
 against the walls of Hunts Green, or fleed cakes — 
 and who made such fleed cakes as Friend Martin ? 
 — ^pounded and rolled into quite ethereal lightness 
 and flakiness ! Old Benedictus Martin was always 
 ready to wait when his vnie had some concern to 
 comfort the sorrowful, and he amused himself 
 with the staid, old-fashioned remarks of the child 
 as to the state of the crops, and farming prospects. 
 
 When Nancy returned, he began, " Thy son 
 tells me thou wants to get rid of those two 
 brindled steers. I am sending some to Reigate 
 fair on Third day. Shall I send thine with 
 them f " 
 
6o THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 " Oh, thank thee ; but they are that wild, 
 having been in the lonely forest pasture, that I 
 hardly know how Seth would get thena along 
 the high road — ^like March hares, he says they 
 are." 
 
 " Then send that red heifer, Judy, that I saw 
 Abie riding on, for company — she is quiet enough. 
 Abie, thee could help drive the beasts, have thy 
 dinner with us, and ride her home with Seth, 
 though I can't say I envy thee thy nag ! " So 
 the matter was settled, and the two pairs of 
 Friends left the Meeting House in opposite 
 directions. 
 
 Yiears passed by, and one bright autumn day, 
 Abraham, now a tall, strong lad of fifteen, walked 
 into the Carfax at Horsham leading grey Dobbin 
 with well-piled panniers of farm produce. He 
 stopped at the side door of the substantial brick 
 house which stood in front of John Deane's 
 timber yard. 
 
 The mistress came out with a kind welcome. 
 " We were particularly wanting to see thee, Abie, 
 Can thee come back to dinner, when Mary will 
 be home from school ? " 
 
 " Thank thee — ^yes. I have brought the russet 
 apples and mushroom catchup thee ordered, and 
 here is a little crock of honey, which my mother 
 sent for Mary." 
 
 " Did her hives yield well this year ? " 
 
ABRAHAM'S OAK 6i 
 
 " Yes, very well. I have two big crocks of 
 honey in the panniers, which the apothecary 
 ordered, and two sheepskins below, to steady 
 them, which I must take to the tanner's, and I 
 am to get some salt, and a few other things. 
 Then I wiU come back and put Dobbin up 
 here." 
 
 The hard-working farm lad felt it quite a 
 holiday as he led his quiet horse through the 
 streets, for it was market day, and Horsham had 
 awakened from its normal sleepy quiet. 
 
 The dinner at the Deane's was also a treat, for 
 Ann Deane's great pudding was of beef, which 
 seldom came on a farmhouse table, and Mary 
 chattered gaily with her old play-feUow, telling 
 him she had something very particular to show 
 him presently. She made a mysterious journey 
 into the best parlour, and then came back to lead 
 him there, followed by her amused parents. On 
 the table stood a beautiful new clothes box, of 
 polished oak, with a handsome lock of engraved 
 brass, and " M. D." in brass-headed nails. 
 
 " What a nice box, Mary. Did thy father have 
 it made for thee ? " 
 
 " Yes — and, Abie, it was made out of thy own 
 oak ! " 
 
 The colour came into Abraham's brown cheeks. 
 " Is it really ? How nice for thee to have some- 
 thing made of the dear old tree ! " 
 
62 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 " Ah, but that is not all I have to show thee," 
 and a covering was whisked off a second box of 
 the same size and shape, with the inscription, 
 "A. P., 1732," deeply cut into the solid oak 
 below the lock. 
 
 " There, Abie ! That is for thy very own ! 
 Father had his best carpenter make them for us.'' 
 
 The boy stood speechless with surprise and 
 pleasure. A gift was almost unknown to him, 
 and the nice box made from his beloved oak was a 
 treasure indeed. His thanks might be stammer- 
 ing, but John Deane could see how heartfelt they 
 were. " It was Mary's thought," he said. " Five 
 years ago, when I promised the little maid a box, 
 she said thee ought to have it, so it ended in old 
 Jacob making two. They are only just finished. 
 I was intending to send it next time the timber 
 waggon goes thy way." 
 
 " I think it would go on the top of the panniers," 
 said Abie, eagerly. " I've got a tidy bit of cord 
 with me, and Dobbin walks very steadily. I do 
 want mother to see it. She will thank thee herself 
 for thy kindness next Monthly Meeting, and 
 Mary, too, for thinking of it." 
 
 So the box was safely tied above the panniers, 
 and borne off in triumph to the- lonely farm to 
 hold the boy's few treasures. 
 
 But some years later the boxes came together 
 again, when " M. D." became " M. P.," and 
 
ABRAHAM'S OAK 63 
 
 Abraham took home his play-fellow to fill the 
 place of his mother, who had died the year 
 before. 
 
 The marriages of Friends were stiU only half 
 acknowledged as legal, so it was needful that the 
 greatest possible publicity should be used, and 
 the ancient certificate says that Abraham Prier 
 and Mary Deane, " having publicly declared 
 their intention of taking each other in marriage 
 before several meetings of the people called 
 Quakers, in Horsham, and in Ryegate, Capole, 
 and Dorking, according to the good order used 
 among them, whose proceedings therein, after a 
 deliberate consideration thereof (with regard to the 
 righteous law of God, and example of His people 
 recorded in the Scriptures of truth,) were allowed 
 by the said Meetings, they appearing clear of all 
 others, and having also the consent of parents and 
 relations concerned," were married in Reigate 
 Meeting House on " the seventh day of the loth 
 month, called December, 1747." 
 
 The declaration of bridegroom and bride differs 
 somewhat from the present form. " In the fear 
 of God, and the presence of this assembly, whom I 
 desire to be my witnesses," again hinting at the 
 necessity of publicity for the sake of the five 
 children afterwards born to them, whose names, 
 John, William, Ann, Sarah, and Hannah, are 
 written on the margin of the certificate. 
 
64 THE TIME OF HER. LIFE 
 
 Abraham, honest yeoman though he was, 
 apparently never learned to write, for his name is 
 signed with a cross, while " Mary Deane " is 
 neatly written below. 
 
 Two oaken boxes, firm and good as ever, the 
 old marriage certificate, and a single silver table- 
 spoon of quaint shape, with " A. M. P." in plain 
 Roman letters deeply cut on the handle — these 
 are not much to conjure up a vision of the homely 
 lives of the writer's great-great-grandparents but 
 it has been a pleasant task, and it is with the 
 hope that this sketch of early Quaker life in 
 Sussex may interest other readers that I venture 
 to send it forth into the world. 
 
SALLIE OF THE BASKET SHOP 
 
 17^6 
 
 " Hast thou really let Jim Burn have another 
 lobster pot without payment ? He had two 
 last year, with many promises, and no money 
 have we seen yet." 
 
 The voice was gentle, but there was a suggestion 
 of reproach, as the speaker stopped the whirling 
 spinning whfeel, and looked up at her husband, 
 who had just come in from the shop. 
 
 " Well, Elizabeth, the poor man begged so 
 hard, and I thought of his sickly wife and hungry 
 children." 
 
 "If Jim would hire himself for wages he 
 would do better than pitching up that leaky 
 cobble of his for pottering shore fishing, and 
 often not selling what he does catch." 
 
 " He says now there is a regular carrier's 
 wain to Canterbury he shall sell lobsters well — 
 the Church folk there like them. Let us hope 
 that he will pay in time — ha. Tommy, my lad, 
 what hast thou to show father ? " And the 
 good man changed the subject by picking up a 
 sturdy two year old, with his pinafore full of 
 cockle shells. 
 
 65 6 
 
66 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 Elizabeth Elgar sighed — there were other 
 hungry children beside Jim Burn's. She began 
 quietly to cut thick slices of bread and butter 
 at the table which was already spread for 
 supper. 
 
 " The children will come in hungry from the 
 shore," she said. 
 
 " Is it bread and scrape which they are to have 
 to-night ? " said the father, laughing. 
 
 " I had not the inoney for so much butter as 
 usual, and thou knows, Thomas, I never take 
 what I cannot pay for. I was obliged to 
 spend more on beef to-day so that our good 
 Jennie may have a plentiful wedding dinner 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " Thou wilt miss Jennies adly, dear wife." 
 
 " Yes, but it may be better for our Sallie to have 
 more duties — the child has such a spirit she needs 
 plenty to do. School has done her little good 
 of late. The puss found out that she knew as 
 much as her teacher, and the Dame did not Hke 
 her any the better for that." 
 
 " I wish we could afford to send her to Madam 
 Carr's School." 
 
 "I do not. It is no place for - a Friends' 
 child — all genteel manners, and dancing, and 
 fiUgree work. I only hope that it will not spoil 
 little Mary Smith, who is as nice a child as I know, 
 and a good playmate for Sallie." 
 
SALLIE OF THE BASKET SHOP e^ 
 
 " I wish that John had some of Sallie's energy. 
 He tires of the confinement of the workshop, 
 although he is getting very handy with the 
 osiers — ^it makes him dull and surly, though he 
 tries to do his duty, and had earned the holiday 
 which I gave him to-day for a run on the shore 
 with his sister. It is time they were coming 
 in to supper." And the father, with Tommy 
 still in his arms, passed through the shop and 
 looked down the steep street of Folkestone 
 towards the sea. 
 
 A very different Folkestone to the town we 
 see to-day, for the date of our story was 1768. 
 The harbour was small and ill protected, although 
 numbers of mackerel boats, and trading hoys 
 hailed from the port. The fishing population 
 crowded in low cottages by the quay, many of 
 them hung with strings of small, salted, flat fish, 
 drying in the sun before being smoked, and called 
 " Folkestone wall-fruif." 
 
 The streets were narrow, the shops low, and 
 darkened by the overhanging upper storey. 
 Thomas Elgar's shop was no exception, and was 
 packed from floor to ceiling with lobster pots, 
 bee skeps, and baskets, mostly of the strong, 
 rough kind needed for the fisher's trade. 
 
 The shop opened into a large, sunny kitchen, 
 the family living room, and behind was a good 
 scullery and a large workshop of two floors, where 
 
68 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 a couple of crippled old sailors helped Thomas 
 and his boy to make their wares. Beyond, 
 sloping up the steep hiU-side was a good garden, 
 full of vegetables, with a few bushes of cabbage 
 rose and sweet briar, gay gilly flowers, and 
 borders of sea pink, which were a special pleasure 
 to Elizabeth in her busy life. 
 
 Into the kitchen bustled a stout serving maid 
 with her hands full of pewter plates, in the 
 freshest state of high polish, which she proceeded 
 to arrange on the dresser. 
 
 " Thou art bent on leaving everything in the 
 best order, Jennie," said her mistress, smiling. 
 
 " I can't abear to think of thee and Sallie doing 
 aU the work — and when I look at Tommy — bless 
 his little heart ! — I wonder how I ever came to 
 promise to leave him, and all of ye." 
 
 " Thou hast been a true friend to us, Jennie, 
 but thy Abel has waited long, and it is right 
 thou shouldst go to a home of thy own, and if 
 thou comes in on washing and baking days it will 
 be a pleasure, as well as a help to us all." 
 
 " Well, mistress, nothing shall hinder that, and 
 if the children should be iU-^ — " 
 
 Here she was interrupted by a rush of noisy 
 children from the shop. SaUie first — somehow 
 her energetic nature always made her involun- 
 tarily the first — John, a sturdy boy of fourteen, 
 with delicate Willie of five on his back, and 
 
SALLIE OF THE BASKET SHOP 69 
 
 Mary Smith, a sea captain's daughter, and their 
 favourite playfellow. 
 
 " Oh, mother, mother ! We've had such a day." 
 
 " Sallie certainly is the luckiest girl." 
 
 " Johnnie carried me, and I am not a bit tired, 
 mother." 
 
 " Never caught so many prawns and shrimps 
 in our lives before, and they are all boUed, mother, 
 ready for supper." 
 
 " But Mary has made her chintz gown, that 
 her father brought her from the Indies, so very 
 muddy — may she put on my First-day gown, 
 mother ? And Jennie, dear Jennie wilt thou 
 wash and iron hers ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes, Sallie — but now wash your hands 
 and comb your hair, and come to supper, and 
 then you shall teU us about it all." 
 
 Jennie promptly put an iron to heat by the 
 embers, and took the gay chintz which Mary, 
 a quiet brown eyed girl of eleven slipped off, and 
 before the Well trained children gathered to the 
 supper table, it was nicely rinsed, and hung by 
 the fiire to dry. 
 
 " Now let us be thankful, and then tell us 
 your story " ; and every young head was bowed 
 for the silent grace, even little Mary, the Church 
 woman, being well accustomed to the practice. 
 
 Johnnip had emptied the contents of the girls' 
 baskets on to two large platters, one of fine. 
 
70 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 coral-pink pjrawns, the other of plump brown 
 shrimps, a very welcome addition to the thinly 
 buttered slices of home baked bread. The 
 beverage was the smallest of small beer, for the 
 dish of tea was a luxury only enjoyed on First 
 days. 
 
 " How did you manage to get them boiled,. 
 Johnnie ? " 
 
 " It was Sallie's doing, mother — she made the 
 Excise man boil them for us." 
 
 " The Excise man ! " 
 
 " Yes, mother, and he was such a nice man. 
 He said he had a little maid of his own named 
 Sallie, but she lives with her grannie at Chatham, 
 and he hardly ever sees her." 
 
 " We went to the far cove, and the first pools 
 had hardly any prawns, and I was for giving it 
 up, and going on the Leas for blackberries, but 
 Sallie went on — I suppose it is girls' luck, she 
 always does find things — and she found some 
 pools swarming with prawns and shrimps. We 
 took turns with the net, and filled our baskets 
 right up. As we came by the Exciseman's hut 
 he came out. Mary and I hurried on, but Sallie 
 goes up to him and says : ' Wouldst thou like 
 some prawns for supper ? ' ' Why, whose kind 
 little maid are you ? ' he said. ' I'm Thomas 
 Elgar, the Quaker's little maid, and if thou wilt 
 lend us a pot we will boil them for thee.' He 
 
SALLIE OF THE BASKET SHOP 71 
 
 laughed, and brought out a fine big, three-legged 
 pot, and we aU collected drift wood, and he 
 brought some embers from his fire, and a handful 
 of salt, and we boiled the fish, and sorted them, 
 and gave him a big plateful." 
 
 " And," added Sallie, " he said, ' I shall not 
 forget the little maid who is not afraid of an 
 Excise man.' " 
 
 " The town children won't go near him because 
 they know he is on the watch to stop the men 
 at the free-trade business, but thou hast not a 
 smuggling father, Sallie," said the basket-maker, 
 smiling. 
 
 " We had more prawns than we wanted, and 
 I know thou dost not like to smell them boiling, 
 mother, so I thought we would see if we could 
 get it done on the shore, by borrowing a pot, 
 and an Exciseman's is as good as any." 
 
 " And oh, father," said Johnnie, " there is a 
 big schooner standing in with the tide, and old 
 Jack Poole told me he thinks it may be The 
 Wings of the Morning" 
 
 " That is good news, Johnnie, for we are always 
 glad when good Friend Nathan Sharpoy is safely 
 home from his long voyages — and to have him 
 with us at meeting to-morrow. If he is led to 
 supplicate for thee and Abel, Jennie, you wiU 
 have the prayer of a righteous man which availeth 
 much." 
 
72 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 Jennie, who had been seated modestly " below 
 the salt," skinning shrimps for Tommy, who 
 sat on her knee, looked somewhat alarmed. 
 " My gracious me ! — that me and Abel should 
 have to speak out before the Captain ! " she said. 
 " You need not mind that — a kinder heart than 
 Captain Sharpoy does not sail the sea," and the 
 master rose and left the house to see for himself 
 the coming schooner. In a few minutes the 
 chintz dress was nicely ironed by Jennie, and 
 Mary, with her share of prawns in a little basket, 
 went home to her mother who was much occupied 
 in caring for her invalid mother-in-law, and was 
 glad that her lonely child should be with EUzabeth 
 Elgar's well-trained children, although SaUie's 
 pranks were sometimes too bold and enterprising. 
 
 The little maiden bustled about helping clear 
 the supper, and put the little brothers to bed, 
 but to-night she had an unusual duty on her mind. 
 Diving into the darkening wood-shed she found 
 lurking there the young fisherman, Abel Godden, 
 who to-morrow was to wed the faithful housemaid 
 Jennie, who had lived in the family since she 
 came, a forlorn orphan of twelve years old, as 
 nursemaid to Johnnie. 
 
 Jennie and Abel were both Friends, attending 
 diligently the almost silent meeting at Folkestone 
 — devout worshippers in their simple way, though 
 neither could read or write, so the marriage 
 
SALLIE OF THE BASKET SHOP 73 
 
 ceremony was an alarming affair to them, and 
 the bright Sallie had undertaken to coach them 
 both. 
 
 She called Jennie for the final rehearsal. 
 
 " Now, Abel, stand up and take her hand — 
 so — and speak up boldly, ' Friends, in the fear 
 of the Lord and the presence of this assembly, 
 who I desire to be my witnesses, I take my 
 friend, Jane Stokes (mind that thou dost not 
 say Jennie, Abel !) to be my wife, promising by 
 Divine assistance to be unto her a loving and 
 faithful husband, until it shall please the Lord by 
 death to separate us.'" 
 
 Over and over the couple repeated the words 
 until the little teacher was satisfied. 
 
 " That will do nicely — sit down — (and mind, 
 don't drop her hand like a hot coal, Abel), and 
 uncle Nichalls wiU read the certificate, and you 
 wUl make your marks, and then the meeting for 
 worship will go on ; " and Sallie departed to bed, 
 conscious of having helped her humble friends 
 over a real difficulty. 
 
 All was bustle next morning behind the closed 
 shop, Jennie being determined to leave every 
 corner spotless. In order that the good mistress 
 should act as mother at the wedding, her sister, 
 Alys Nichalls, came to take care of Tommy, and 
 prepare the festive dinner of roast beef and 
 apple pies. 
 
74 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 Jennie was arrayed in her new gown of stout 
 drab grogram, chosen like the wedding dress 
 of the wife of the Vicar of Wakefield, for its 
 wearing quality, a snow-white apron and cap of 
 her own spinning, and a little, flat straw hat, 
 surrounded by a green ribbon, which, with a 
 breast knot of the same, Abel had bought for her 
 when his boat put in to a French port, 
 
 Abel came to walk with his bride and her 
 master's family to meeting, the marriages of 
 working class folk being permitted on First day. 
 
 Sure enough, there was the rugged, weather 
 beaten face of Captain Sharpoy in the minister's 
 gallery, hardly noticed by the bride and groom, so 
 much flustered were they by having to face the 
 meeting, but the solemn silence was bracing, and 
 Sallie's pupils did her credit, for both spoke out 
 clearly and well. 
 
 The little maiden on the side seat, with Willie 
 in her charge,^ felt as if for her also a new life was 
 beginning. She noticed that there were tears 
 in her mother's eyes, for the loss of the faithful 
 Jennie was a grave one to Elizabeth Elgar. 
 The household work would be heavy with only 
 the little daughter, at present with so much 
 more zeal than discretion, as her helper, and 
 Jennie had been invaluable in that tragic time 
 three years before when " the fever " had swept 
 through Folkestone. In the green yard outside 
 
SALLIE OP THE BASKET SHOP 75 
 
 were three little graves, of boys who had come 
 next in age to Sallie. Willie, too, had been at 
 death's door, and the mother felt that but for 
 Jennie's devotion, she must have lost him also. 
 No wonder that both parents felt parting with 
 so faithful a friend. The meeting, as was usual 
 in those days, lasted for over two hours, broken 
 only by the Captain's fervent prayer for the young 
 couple, and a short sermon from old Joseph Elgar. 
 Cousin Joseph was one of SaUie's trials — ^his 
 peculiar sing-song voice, and curious, mystical 
 language, utterly beyond a child's comprehension, 
 always irritated her. Volatile and restless as 
 she generally was, she loved the quiet meeting, 
 and had never found the art of sitting still so 
 difficult as had John and Willie, and this sunny 
 autumn morning she was solemnised by the 
 evident emotion of her parents, for Sallie was a 
 damsel of strong affections. The well conned 
 words of the marriage declaration came to her 
 with a new meaning — she felt that she should like 
 to promise to be a loving and faithful daughter 
 all her life — ^yet how often she had vexed that 
 dear mother by her waywardness and quick 
 temper — could she, with such faults, ever be the 
 comfort she ought to be ? It could only be " by 
 Divine assistance," and earnestly she prayed that 
 she might never forget to look for that aid to do 
 her duty. 
 
76 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 After the meeting broke up, kindly greetings 
 were freely bestowed on Abel and Jennie, but 
 the good Captain, after his long absence at sea, 
 was the chief attraction. 
 
 The same fever had left him a childless widower, 
 with only two sour old sisters, who were not 
 Friends, to keep his house, so that his most 
 home-like place, in the intervals of his voyages, 
 was at the Meeting House. 
 
 " We should esteem it a favour if thou wilt 
 dine with us, Friend Nathan," said Thomas 
 Elgar ; so the wedding feast was graced by a 
 highly honoured guest, which was well, as neither 
 Abel nor Jennie were likely to help the con- 
 versation, both sitting as mute as the children, 
 who had been taught to be seen and not heard 
 when guests were present. The Captain spoke 
 much of his past voyage. He had brought a 
 fuU cargo of rice from Georgia, had been unusually 
 favoured with fair vdnds, and was anchoring 
 at Folkestone to unload a small portion of his 
 cargo, before going on to London. 
 
 Meanwhile Johnnie listened with an eagerness 
 which did not escape notice. The boy loved the 
 sea, and the father hardly knew how incessantly 
 the two old sailors, both crippled by accidents 
 on board ship, told tales of ocean life to the 
 boy, as they sat together twisting osiers in the 
 workshop. Perhaps they felt that their quiet 
 
SALLIE OF THE BASKET SHOP 77 
 
 master was a bit of a landlubber, and wished to 
 infuse a little more spirit of adventure into 
 master Johnnie. 
 
 " The Wings of the Morning is likely to be 
 in port some time," said her Captain, " she 
 needs a thorough scraping, for the barnacles 
 were worse than usual this voyage, and we can't 
 put to sea again without a new suit of sails, and 
 other gear. We begin the unloading to-morrow. 
 Didst thou ever go over a schooner, my lad ? " 
 he said, turning to John. The shy boy turned 
 scarlet. " No, nothing bigger than a hoy," he 
 stammered. " Then come down to the wharf at 
 eight to-morrow, if thy father can spare thee, 
 and I will show thee the ship, and some of my 
 foreign curiosities," said the Captain, kindly. 
 " And bring a peck bag, Johnnie, and thou shalt 
 have some rice for thy mother." This kind offer 
 of a welcome store to the frugal house-wife was 
 not to be refused, and the boy's pleasure was 
 great when his father gave ready consent. 
 
 Dinner over, the guest departed, soon followed 
 by Abel and Jennie, to take possession of the 
 humble cottage near the sea which they had 
 furnished with their joint savings. The father 
 took the three boys out with him, rather wistfully 
 watched by Sallie, as she soberly tied a big apron 
 over her First-day frock, and helped her mother 
 with the needful housework. 
 
78 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 During the first week the little new broom 
 swept very clean indeed. Sallie was not only- 
 active, but had a large share of that excellent 
 quality called " gumption," and the good mother 
 rejoiced in her apt pupil. Sallie felt she was 
 getting on finely, but at twelve years old such 
 extreme virtue is likely to suffer relapse, and the 
 day came when she felt she was in bondage 
 indeed. Every year, after the flail of the thresher 
 had beaten out the earliest of the freshly reaped 
 wheat, Thomas Elgar was in the habit of hiring 
 a cart to drive to a pleasant farm for a supply 
 of straw, of which to make his store of bee skeps, 
 and also searching a wide common near by for a 
 particular kind of bramble, the long tough sprays 
 of which were split into thin strips to bind the 
 straw together. Sallie had often been his 
 companion and gloried in making herself useful 
 on this special excursion. What were her feelings 
 when she found that she could not be spared 
 and that little Willie was to go instead — ^WilUe, 
 who was afraid of a cow, and did not know a 
 bramble from an elm tree 1 
 
 " Oh ! mother, can't I really go ? " 
 
 " No, Sallie, I cannot spare thee. There is the 
 ironing ; and Tommy and the shop to mind." 
 
 " Johnnie could do that." 
 
 " John has to walk to Cheriton with a bushel 
 basket, which is specially needed." 
 
SALLIE OF THE BASKET SHOP 79 
 
 Poor Sallie ! — she burst into a storm of tears 
 and protests, even stamping in the vehemence of 
 her feeling that she was an injurell individual. 
 
 " Sarah, I am astonished at I thy conduct ! 
 Thou grieves me sorely by such a display of evil 
 temper. Be silent at once ! Take this basket 
 and bring me three cabbages from the top of the 
 garden." 
 
 The habit of obedience prevailed. The poor 
 child stumbled off, blinded with tears, but as 
 her mother expected, the quiet and fresh air, 
 the sight of the calm blue sea, and the unseen 
 power which was already at work in the young 
 heart, soon conquered, and. it was a very contrite 
 and humble maiden who came back with the 
 cabbages. 
 
 " I am truly sorry, mother, do forgive me, 
 and I will try and be cheerful at home, and not 
 jealous of WiUie." 
 
 " That is like my brave little daughter. I 
 am sorry for thy disappointment, but the home 
 duties must be done, and it is good to bear the 
 yoke in thy youth." 
 
 SaUie exerted herself, and worked so well that 
 when Mary came in to see if her playmate were 
 at liberty, the good mother said kindly, " I can 
 watch the shop now, as I sit at my wheel — thou 
 canst take Tommy in the little waggon to meet 
 John. There are plenty of blackberries on the 
 
8o THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 Cheriton road, so pick enough for a pudding 
 to-morrow." 
 
 The waggon was a primitive basket on four 
 soHd wooden wheels, but Tommy was happily 
 content to be jumbled over the rough road by 
 the two girls. 
 
 On some high ground they soon spied Johnnie 
 leaning on a gate, and gazing out to sea so 
 earnestly that he did not notice their approach 
 until they were close at hand. 
 
 " Were you dreaming, Johnnie ? " 
 
 " Ay, Mary, I suppose I was — dreaming of what 
 it would be like to be Captain of a fine ship like 
 thy father is." 
 
 " Do you want to be a sailor, Johnnie ? Oh ! 
 I hope you will — ^it's so much nicer than baskets." 
 
 " How would father do without thee, Johnnie ?" 
 said Sally the dutiful. 
 
 " Any lad could carry home baskets as I have 
 been doing to-day — and when I look at the sea 
 and smell the fresh wind I fairly hate the stuffy 
 workshop." 
 
 " Hast thou told father so ? " 
 
 " I did say something of wishing I could see 
 the world, like Captain Sharpoy, but he said a 
 sailor's is a rough life,, and I had better be content 
 with the baskets." 
 
 " Mother said this morning, ' it is good to bear 
 the yoke in our youth.' " 
 
SALLIE OF THE BASKET SHOP 8i 
 
 " Not if the yoke don't fit. I know I should 
 make a better mariner than tradesman. Besides 
 father says trade is so bad, and I should be earning 
 my living at once, with a "better prospect than i 
 I stick to the shop." 
 
 Sallie considered. " I would talk it over with 
 mother," she said ; and aU the children turned 
 to the delights of blackberrying. 
 
 That very evening John had his opportunity, 
 while Sallie was putting the little brother to bed, 
 • and spoke in a sensible, manly way of his wish to 
 go to sea. Elizabeth Elgar heard with a pang 
 — ^what mother does not when her first-born 
 turns to a dangerous calling ? But she knew 
 that the prospect if he remained at home 
 was but of a meagre livelihood, and realised 
 that a boy does best if allowed to follow his 
 natural bent. 
 
 " But there is one difficulty thou hast not 
 thought of, Johnnie. To apprentice thee on a 
 good ship there would be a fee of a good many 
 guineas, and I know not where we could look for 
 that. Until the fever we always had some 
 savings put by, but the illness of thy dear little 
 brothers, the physician from Dover, who charged 
 so heavily and did so little good ; the costly 
 medicines, and the three funerals were but barely 
 paid for by what we had in hand, and we have 
 never been able to replace it." 
 
82 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 " Could not I go as a cabin boy, mother ? 
 They cannot pay fees." 
 
 " No, Johnnie, but they are not taught the 
 mariner's calling, and cannot look to be more 
 than a man before the mast. Thy father and 
 I would wish, with the schooling that we have 
 given thee, that thou mightest rise to be master 
 of a ship in time. However, we will talk it over, 
 and be sure, my boy, if it is thy appointed lot, 
 way vnll open for thee." 
 
 At first the basket-maker blew cold on Johnnie's 
 wishes. His was a quiet and rather dreamy 
 nature, and the " wanderlust " had never troubled 
 him — ^the mother could understand it better. 
 
 " If he could sail under Captain Nathan in 
 The Wings of the Morning I should be content," 
 he said ; " but to let a boy of his training knock 
 about with lewd sailor-men on an ordinary craft 
 is what I never vdll consent to, and, as thou says, 
 the question of the 'prentice fee makes it 
 impossible at present." 
 
 But the very fact that the chosen ship might 
 be several weeks in pott made the mother more 
 anxious to settle matters. 
 
 One afternoon, when her husband was in the 
 shop, and Jennie had called to take the little ones 
 for a walk, she took Sallie up to her bedroom, 
 saying : " I have something to show thee, my 
 daughter, which thou hast never seen." 
 
SALLIE OF THE BASKET SHOP 83 
 
 Taking a key from a drawer she mounted on 
 the solid, oaken bedstead, and to Sallie's astonish- 
 ntient a carved panel opened, disclosing a small 
 cupboard. 
 
 Elizabeth took out a leather bag, and seating 
 herself on the broad window-seat, she drew forth 
 and displayed to the child's bewildered eyes a 
 handsome, fluted cup of solid silver with two 
 graceful handles. It was such a contrast to the 
 rigid simplicity of the household furnishing that 
 Sallie was much impressed. 
 
 " Oh ! mother, how beautiful ! Is it really 
 thine ? " 
 
 " Yes, Sallie, it came to me from my dear 
 mother." 
 
 " But why has it two handles ? " 
 
 " It is what is called a loving-cup, and is passed 
 from one to another when healths are drunk 
 among the world's people — a heathenish custom, 
 which Friends do not join in. I have heard that 
 the Lord Mayor of London has such cups of solid 
 gold to pass round at his banquets." 
 
 " There are letters on it, mother. ' A.G.' 
 marked with little pricks, like we prick things on 
 paper — and here at the bottom are more letters, 
 ' E.N.' — ^that used to be thy name — and — ^why, 
 here is ' S.E.' — that would stand for Sallie Elgar, 
 but it could not have meant me." 
 
 " It does mean thee, Sallie, and it is because 
 
84 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 thou hast a share in it that I am going to consult 
 thee, but I must tell thee how such a thing came 
 into a Friend's family. The cup is a very old 
 one — quite eighl;y years, for it was a christening 
 present to the Lady Alys Glynn, and she was 
 born in the year that her father helped to bring the 
 Protestant King William to England. She was 
 married when almost a child to Squire Kelsey, 
 and came to live near Dover, and an iU life he led 
 her, for he was drunk almost every night. My 
 mother was her maid, and being a stout young 
 woman with a will of her own, and her lady a 
 gentle, timid creature, she often had to stand 
 between and protect her from his roughness. 
 Lady Alys was one who was convinced of the 
 truth when some eminent publick Friends visited 
 Kent, and my dear mother attended her lady to the 
 meetings till she also received the blessed light, 
 and became a greater comfort than ever to her 
 mistress, who had much persecution to suffer 
 from her husband, especially after her two sons, 
 Robert and David, both threw in their lot with 
 the Friends of Truth. The squire was injured 
 in a drunken brawl, and had no power to recover 
 as a clean-living man would. Mother helped 
 Lady Alys to nurse him to the end, and hoped for 
 better days for her dear mistress, but she was soon 
 struck down with the palsy, and after lying helpless 
 for some months, she passed away in peace. 
 
SALLIE OF THE BASKET SHOP 85 
 
 The squire had wasted his substance, and the 
 sons sold all to pay his debts, with just enough 
 left to take them both to Pennsylvania to begin 
 life afresh. Their mother's cup they insisted 
 on giving to my grandmother as a mark of their 
 gratitude. ' We shall have no need of such 
 gauds in a new colony,' they said, ' and thou, 
 Sarah, may find some day it is of use to thee 
 and thine ' — mother was just marrying my dear 
 father then. I was her first-born, and she 
 determined that I should have the cup, and put 
 my letters on it, although it was thy aunt Alys 
 who was named after her lady. When thou, 
 her first little grand-daughter wast born, and 
 named for her, she added thy letters to give thee 
 a part in it, but before thou wast two years old, 
 she died. And now;, SaUy, canst thou guess why 
 I show it to thee just now ? " 
 
 SaUie's quick wit was seldom at fault. 
 
 " Dost thou want to sell it to pay Johnnie's 
 'prentice fee, mother ? " 
 
 " Yes, Sallie, the cup is of no use lying in the 
 secret cupboard, and it may make all the differ- 
 ence in John's life if he can start under a godly 
 captain in The Wings of the Morning — for to 
 sea he will go, I feel sure of that. Art thou wilHng 
 to give up thy share of it, if father can sell it to 
 the Dover silversmith when he goes to Monthly 
 Meeting next week ? " 
 
86 THE TIME OF HER IJFE 
 
 Sallie sat and considered. She did so love 
 pretty things, and the beauty of the cup, con- 
 trasted with the drab plainness of her surround- 
 ings appealed to her strongly. Would it be 
 selfish to say no ? Was there not some other 
 way ? 
 
 " Mother," she said, " dost thou not think 
 that Friend Nathan would take the cup for the 
 fee, and let us buy it back in time ? Johnnie 
 would soon be getting wages, and I can earn 
 something, I know, and the basket trade may be 
 better." 
 
 Elizabeth was surprised, and said thoughtfully, 
 " He might, but I do not think thy father would 
 like to ask him, nor should I." 
 
 " But I might, mother ! The captain is kind, 
 and he would not be offended at a little maid 
 — oh, do let me. He came back from London in 
 Friend Marsh's hoy yesterday, and will be at home. 
 May not I go before I get too frightened ? " 
 
 " We will ask thy father, Sallie," and Elizabeth 
 went down to the shop with the leather bag in 
 hei: hand. Consent was readily given. Thomas 
 had not relished the idea of haggling over the 
 price of his wife's heirloom with the silversmith, 
 and was pleased at the plan. 
 
 " Put on a clean cap and apron, Sallie, and 
 make thyself quite neat, while I polish the cup, 
 and put it in a covered basket for thee." 
 
SALLIE OF THE BASKET SHOP 87 
 
 Away tripped the eager child, down one steep 
 street, and up another to Captain Sharpoy's 
 house. The door was opened by his sister Grizel, 
 who scowled at the little messenger. " You 
 can't see the Captain, he is up in the summer 
 house at the top of the garden. Betsy is out, I 
 am not going to fetch him down to a child." 
 
 " Father and mother sent me on some very 
 particular business — ^please may I go up the 
 garden to him ? I can find the way." 
 
 Ungraciously the woman led her through the 
 house, and up the steep path she sped to the corner 
 where the Captain had built a look out, with a 
 magnificent view, where he now sat, enjoying a 
 well earned rest. Thomas Elgar was one of his 
 most valued friends, and he greeted the breathless 
 little maid kindly. 
 
 " Please, Ftiend Sharpoy, Johnnie wants to go 
 to sea. Dost thou want another 'prentice on 
 The Wings of the Morning ? " 
 
 " Oh, ho — that's the way the wind blows ! 
 I thought as much when I dined at your house. 
 He is a bright boy, but I could show him no 
 favour on my ship. He would have to share all 
 the hard work, and mind what is said to him 
 —sharp ! " 
 
 " Johnnie always is a good boy — that is, he 
 means to be, and if he wasn't, mother always 
 said it was I led him into mischief," said SaUie, 
 
88 THE IIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 penitently. " But he does so want to go to sea 
 on thy ship — ^if — thou would only take this 
 for his 'prentice fee," and she set the silver cup 
 on the little table before him. 
 
 " Why, how came you by this fine thing ? " 
 
 Sallie repeated her mother's story. " We don't 
 want to sell grandmother's cup, but if thou wilt 
 keep it, and let us buy it back when we have 
 saved the money we shall be so glad." 
 
 The Capt;ain's eyes twinkled. " Thou art a 
 business-like little puss," he said .; " but there 
 are many things to consider in this matter. I 
 wiU come down this evening, and see thy parents, 
 and the lad himself." 
 
 " And thou wilt keep the cup." 
 
 " Yes, I will lock it in my strong chest, and if 
 we do not come to terms, you can fetch it back." 
 
 As they walked down the steep garden he 
 filled her basket with choice pears and plums, 
 and sent her home triumphant. To Johnnie's 
 joy the interview was favourable. His indentures 
 were made out, and he sailed away into the 
 unknown seas, determined that every penny he 
 could save should go to redeem his mother's 
 silver cup. 
 
 Meanwhile Sallie was becoming more and more 
 valuable at home. Trade was looking up, and a 
 little maid of all work released her to become her 
 father's right hand in the shop. He noted with 
 
SALLIE OF THE BASKET SHOP 89 
 
 pleasure her increasing thoughtfulness, and how 
 solemn and tender was her face during their often 
 silent meetings. Quakerism was at a low ebb in 
 Kent at that date. In the cover of the large 
 Bible which giA'^es the names of Thomas Elgar's 
 eight children is an entry in faded ink : " 1773, 
 Eliz Elgar met with five Friends to answer the 
 Queries, but told them we could not answer them." 
 
 It was probably the clause on " defrauding 
 the pubhc revenue " which the good women 
 could not face, for complicity with smugghng was 
 only too frequent, and few tradesmen would 
 refuse an order as Thomas did when a man wished 
 him to make a dozen extra strong wicker panniers, 
 nominally to bring up sea-weed from the shore, 
 but, he well knew, really designed to carry inland 
 the spirits, silks, and tobacco landed by night on 
 that lawless coast. 
 
 As business improved he would often give 
 Sallie the treat of taking her on horseback — at 
 first on a pillion, but afterwards on a lighter 
 horse by herself, to meetings at a distance, as she 
 says in her diary in mentioning these rides, 
 " I had a great love for Friends." 
 
 This love she imparted to Mary Smith, and 
 the girl, impressed by the strength and sweetness 
 of her friend's character, became a member of 
 the Society, and laid aside the gay chintz and 
 ribbons, for the garb of the plain Friend, as she 
 
90 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 is depicted in a water-colour portrait as the 
 honoured wife of John, the sea-captain. 
 
 When SalHe was sixteen, a great sorrow befell 
 her. The good father died after a short illness. 
 Many duties devolved on her, under the weight 
 of which she would have felt crushed, " had I 
 not been obliged to have resource to the Lord for 
 additional supplies of strength," she wrote in her 
 little brown leather pocket book. 
 
 Bravely the mother and daughter kept up the 
 business, supporting themselves and the two 
 younger boys in independence. 
 
 But a new interest was coming into SaUie's 
 life. Hitherto, in the dearth of outward ministry, 
 she had drawn her spiritual help from the Head 
 of the Church alone, but on "25-12-1774" — 
 (she makes no mention of its being Christmas 
 day !) she writes in her journal. " We were 
 favoured by two Friends, John Kendal and Joseph 
 Ransom. They had to treat much of God's 
 gracious dealings with them in their youth that 
 seemed to touch my heart that before to my 
 remembrance, had never known a tendering time 
 by what came through man." 
 
 From that time forth the many visits of 
 ministering Friends were eagerly looked for. 
 Sallie often accompanied them to distant 
 meetings, and when at the age of thirty a gift 
 in the ministry was laid upon her, she soon began 
 
SALLIE OF THE BASKET SHOP 91 
 
 to travel herself to the comfort and edification 
 of Friends all over England. 
 
 After her mother's death, when her brothers 
 were all launched in the world, she married 
 William Charman, of Reigate, and her dearly 
 loved stepdaughter, Ann Charman, became the 
 wife of Thomas Elgar, the eldest of John and 
 Mary's many sons. She died in 1836, and 
 Priscilla Hack, of Brighton, and other Friends 
 have told me how warmly their parents used 
 to speak of " Dear Sallie Charman," in even her 
 old age. 
 
 Her diaries, her mother's Bible, and her silver 
 cup keep up the memory of one who undoubtedly 
 served her generation well before she fell asleep 
 so many years ago. 
 
HER FIRST YEARLY MEETING 
 
 1810 
 
 " Is that all thou needs to-day ? " The customer 
 glanced at the large pile of goods with an amused 
 smile. 
 
 " Quite, I thank thee, William Charman, and 
 enough, surely," and the strong accent on the 
 last syllable proclaimed the speaker to be of 
 Sussex birth and breeding. 
 
 " Well, well, when young women are going 
 to get married, drapers expect orders, and thou 
 art one who knows her own mind about thy 
 things, which is more than I can say for some of 
 my customers." 
 
 The biU was paid, and then the girl said, " We 
 will call for the parcel as we drive home. But, 
 please, is Sarah Charman within ? I should like 
 to speak to her." 
 
 " Oh, yes, she will be pleased to see thee, 
 Sarah. I often say my Sallie is more in demand 
 than my shop goods," and the visitor was soon 
 being kindly greeted by a comely, middle-aged 
 Friend in the parlour behind the shop. 
 
 " I have a favour to ask of thee, Sarah Char- 
 man," said Sarah Pennifold, a bonny country 
 
HER FIRST YEARLY MEETING 93 
 
 girl on whose thick yellow hair the Friends' 
 bonnet sat with a somewhat unaccustomed air, 
 for she had but recently joined the Society, and 
 the " plain language " came also with a deliberate 
 effort. " Art not thou going to London Yearly 
 Meeting next week ? " 
 
 " Yes, although I am not representative as I 
 was last year. My dear daughter Ann and I 
 look to have this last one together, for when she 
 is married, and settled at Arundel, it may not be 
 easy for her to attend." 
 
 " Then may I ask, if it is not too much trouble, 
 if thou wilt choose a tea set for me ? " 
 
 " Thou wants one for thy future home ? " 
 said her hostess, kindly. " But why not choose 
 it thyself ? " 
 
 " I have looked at all those here, and in the 
 Horsham shops, and they are not nice enough — 
 all painted with gaudy flowers, not a bit like the 
 real flowers either — except one, which was priced 
 five guineas, which is more than I can afford. 
 Father has given me money for my wedding 
 clothes, but the tea set is to be bought with my 
 own savings — money I have earned with my 
 ci^ckens and bees, and it comes to just two 
 guineas. There is a fine corner cupboard with 
 glass, doors in the best parlour at Hunts Green, 
 so I do want a nice set, and I thought thou would 
 knowi what is suitable for a Friends' house, and 
 
94 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 would be so kind as to choose one in London, and 
 have it sent down by the carrier." 
 
 " Certainly I will, if thou canst trust my taste. 
 I am intending to buy one for Ann. Her father 
 has always jested at our love for our dish of tea — 
 although he was always quite ready to share it — 
 and said my gift on her marriage must be a nice 
 tea set, so we can choose thine at the same time." 
 
 " Oh, thank thee ! I must go now, for I have 
 more errands in the town. Here are the two 
 guineas, if thou wilt take charge of it." 
 
 " Bring thy father in for a cup of tea before 
 your drive home. We shall be pleased to see 
 you both." 
 
 The girl departed, and Sarah Charman 
 returned to her homely task of mending the 
 youngest apprentice's ragged elbows, for all the 
 young men in her husband's shop shared her 
 motherly care, but her thoughts were busy with 
 a kindly plan for Sarah Pennifold's benefit. 
 
 The door opened, and a very different girl 
 came in, pale and slender, with deep-set 
 eyes of dark, purple-grey, and a shy, reserved 
 manner. 
 
 " See, mother," she said, " I have found the 
 right flower to complete my group. I have some 
 yellow and purple silks that will just do," and 
 she displayed some small pansies in a wine-glass. 
 
 " Where didst thou find them ? " 
 
HER FIRST YEARLY MEETING 95 
 
 " In the Fengates garden. Father sent me 
 over to the farm with a message, so I have had a 
 fine walk through the fields and over the common." 
 
 She took up an embroidery frame, in which a 
 group of silken flowers was exquisitely worked ; 
 rose, larkspur, passion-flower, auricula and 
 geranium, and the pansies were to fill in the last 
 corner. 
 
 " Ann," said Sarah Charman, " I believe thou 
 canst do a great kindness if thou art only willing." 
 
 The girl looked up, startled. Her nature had 
 a touch of the recluse in its shyness, and her 
 excellent stepmother's large-hearted plans did 
 not always appeal to her. 
 
 " What if we take Sarah Pennifold to Yearly 
 Meeting with us ? If she shared the back seat 
 of the chaise and the bedroom with thee it would 
 not cost much, and I feel it would be of untold 
 benefit to her." 
 
 " Oh, mother, must we ? She is such a 
 bouncing girl — and — thou knows that gossipping 
 Jane Humphreys is always saying what a train of 
 young men run after her." 
 
 " That is no fault of hers, for even Jane 
 Humphreys never accused her of encouraging one 
 of them but John Robinson, who is one of the 
 worthiest young men in our Society. When 
 he drove me to Hampshire the last time I was 
 travelling in the ministry, I was much struck 
 
q6 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 with his solid behaviour, as well as his kind care 
 for m.y comfort. As to thy other objection, I 
 really think Sarah's bouncing days are over. 
 Active and energetic she will always be, but Mary 
 Mills and I found, when we visited her on her 
 application for membership, that she is of a truly 
 tender spirit, and no stranger to Divine visita- 
 tions. Thou knows her mother is not a Friend, 
 and she has not had the guarded education which 
 thou hast been favoured with. I believe thou 
 couldst be very helpful to her. When she is 
 once married and settled at Hunts Green with 
 John's aged father to care for, she will not be 
 able to leave home, but the memory of such a 
 journey as this would never leave her." 
 
 Ann was silent, and went on diligently out- 
 lining her spray of pansies. At last she said, 
 " Dost thou really think that ten days woi^ld 
 make much difference ? " 
 
 "Indeed, I do. Sarah feels keenly her lack 
 of education. I have noticed in little things she 
 is ready to learn, an,d to follow all that is improving. 
 She would be noting what is best in all the dear, 
 superior Friends we shall be with. I know 
 myself what it is to long for a chance of higher 
 things. But remember, my dear one, I do not 
 want to press anything on thee for which thou 
 hast no concern. It is thy last maiden Yearly 
 Meeting, and I want thee to enjoy it." 
 
HER FIRST YEARLY MEETING 97 
 
 " Oh, mother, my stupid shyness makes me 
 selfish ; Thoitias says I must try to overcome it. 
 Shall I slip into the shop, and if father is at 
 liberty, ask him what he thinks of this plan before 
 Sarah returns ? " and putting down her em- 
 broidery, she left the room. 
 
 Her stepmother's eyes followed her lovingly. 
 " Dear child, that shyness brings her many a 
 cross. I do not think Thomas would ever have 
 won her if he had not been actua^y in the house 
 for years. But I believe she Mrill soon learn t€u^ 
 appreciate Sarah's fine character when she knows 
 her better." 
 
 The father was pleased with the plan. John 
 Pennifold had been a playmate of his own, but 
 for many years had lived in the forest region of 
 Sussex, and his elder children grew up in the 
 Church of England, but when they moved to 
 near Ifield Meeting, this youngest daughter had 
 attended it vsdth her father, and found there her 
 spiritual home. 
 
 When they came in together the father was 
 almost as pleased as the excited girl. " To go 
 to London ! " To see Friends at their head- 
 quarters ; to choose her own tea set ; to be with 
 Ann, for whose gentle refinement she cherished 
 a respectful admiration — ^^all was delightftdj and 
 her thanks were fervent. 
 
 " Thou must come to us overnight, Sarah," 
 
 7 
 
98 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 said William Charman. " My Sallie will be 
 wanted at the Minister's meeting at ten o'clock, 
 so we must leave here at seven. I have a spanking 
 great chestnut for chaise horse just now, but with 
 four such weighty Friends and their baggage we 
 must give him time." 
 
 This was an added delight. The intervening 
 days were spent by Sarah in getting her very 
 modest wardrobe into nicest order, and on a 
 bright May evening her future husband, John 
 Robinson, drove her to Reigate, ready for the 
 early start. 
 
 Her extreme pleasure was infectious, and Ann 
 began to feel more warmly towards her. She 
 showed her the newly finished embroidery, and 
 the love of flowers was a taste in common. The 
 two brides each spoke hopefully of flower gardens 
 of the future — Sarah at the Surrey farmhouse, 
 Ann behind a draper's shop at Arundel. 
 
 " And this is thy work too ? " said Sarah, rising 
 to look at an oval frame in which a wreath of tiny 
 flowers surrounded a map of England ; a marvel- 
 lous work of art to her untutored eyes, in spite 
 of the lumpy shapelessness of the forty counties. 
 
 " Yes, I worked that at school, and here is a 
 sampler I made at seven years old. Cousin 
 Martha, who cared for me when my own mother 
 died, kept me closely to it. I liked the flowers, 
 and those droll little stags, but oh, I did hate the 
 
HER FIRST YEARLY MEETING 99 
 
 letters. She thought a woman was born solely 
 to use the needle, and was quite vexed with father 
 when he took me out to pick up chestnuts in the 
 park. It was a happy day for me when dear 
 Mother Sallie came home. She understood that 
 a girl needs exercise and fresh air, as well as to 
 learn sewing." 
 
 " But thou sews beautifully. When I was 
 seven years old I was climbing trees with my 
 brothers in the Forest. I can do plain sewing, 
 and have made myself a patchwork quilt, but 
 nothing like these." 
 
 " But thou canst spin, and that I have never 
 learnt." 
 
 " Oh, yes, and last winter John brought me 
 a quantity of fine flax, which he had grown in 
 the Flaxfield at Hunts Green, and soaked and 
 hackled it himself ; I span it ; and father, who 
 had not touched his loom for years, has woven 
 it into beautiful table-cloths and sheets for me. 
 House linen with so much home love put into it 
 ought to wear well." 
 
 " How nice to have home-made things. But 
 my father, being a draper, has bought me a 
 plentiful supply at wholesale prices." 
 
 " And thou art to be married at Reigate Meeting 
 in August — eighth month, I mean ? " 
 
 " Oh, no ! It is to be at Dorking. I could 
 not face it here, with all the townspeople looking 
 
loo THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 on. Governess used to say she could not see 
 how a female of sensibility could endure a public 
 wedding," and Ann looked a little lackadaisical. 
 
 " Ho ! I don't mind ! I am so proud of my 
 Johii, and of being his chosen, that I could face 
 any audience when taking him for my husband ! 
 But few people wiU come to Ifield Meeting to see 
 a bride in a plain dimity gown, and it will not be 
 for some months yet." 
 
 In the early freshness of the next morning the 
 chaise came to the door, and in it was stowed the 
 hamper with provisions for the week which 
 country folk were accustomed to take to London. 
 A large ham, butter and eggs from William 
 Charman's own farm, and, like Mrs. John Gilpin, 
 his careful wife resolved to be furnished with her 
 own wine, but as she packed the bottles in the 
 hamper it was not left behind ! 
 
 There, too, was the round tin case, made on 
 purpose to hold two Friends' bonnets, and Ann's 
 neat little trunk covered with horse-skin of a 
 bright bay colour, with rows of brass nails, and 
 a brass plate with " A.C." ; quite a gorgeous 
 article in Sarah's eyes, whose own luggage was a 
 large bandbox tied up in a blue checked kerchief. 
 
 The girls climbed to the back seat, William 
 Charman took the reins, and away went the 
 strong chestnut horse, clattering through the 
 empty streets of Reigate, and up the long hiU 
 
HER FIRST YEARLY MEETING loi 
 
 of the North Downs just behind the town. 
 Over commons, green with spring grass, through 
 beech woods carpeted with bluebells, to Croydon, 
 where Ann had visited a schoolfellow, and pointed 
 out the wooded height of Crohamhurst as the 
 place where they had picked wild lilies of the 
 valley in abijndance. 
 
 Croydon was a larger town than Sarah had 
 ever seen before, and she looked about with eager 
 interest as they drove through. Then came 
 more commons, the country village of Streatham, 
 and, after a while, the outskirts of the great city. 
 
 Through the Borough, with an alarming amount 
 of traffic to country eyes, but their driver was 
 well accustomed to London, and steered skilfully 
 through it. At last he turned round smiling. 
 " Now, Sarah, we are going over London Bridge, 
 and we shall meet a white horse." 
 
 " How canst thou know that ? " 
 
 " Oh, it is an old saying that no one ever 
 crosses this bridge without meeting one, and 
 certainly I never have — ah, there it is ! " as the 
 very first hackney coach they met was drawn by 
 a dilapidated white steed. 
 
 The first glimpse of the broad Thames thrilled 
 the girl, who had never seen a river, or a vessel 
 of any kind before ; and they drove on, past the 
 Monument, through narrow, busy streets, until 
 they reached Bishopsgate, and drew up at the 
 
102 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 corner of Houndsditch, from which was the 
 chief entrance of Devonshire House in those 
 days. 
 
 Here Sarah Charipan alighted, to go straight 
 to the Ministers' Meeting. The others drove 
 on to Devonshire Square, where they always 
 lodged, and here the girls and the luggage were 
 dropped, and William Charman took his horse 
 to the stables near, waiting to see it fed (as was 
 his invariable custom when away from home) 
 and then returned. 
 
 " Now, Ann, this is Sarah's first visit to London, 
 and we must show her all we can. I am quite at 
 liberty to-day. Where shall we take her ? " 
 
 " The Tower, and the lions first, father." So 
 they started forth, the kind old man treating the 
 girls, hungry with their drive, to a " nooning " 
 of wonderful London cakes and tarts at a pastry- 
 cook's. Ignorant as Sarah was of history, her 
 bright mind eagerly took in all she could learn 
 about the Tower, and was entranced at the sight 
 of the live lions then kept there. 
 
 The Docks, with the great ships full of mer- 
 chandise from distant lands were fascinating, 
 and as they walked back to the lodging for dinner, 
 in Bishopsgate they came on a china shop, and 
 through the small lattice panes of the window 
 were to be seen tea sets in marvellous abundance 
 and variety. 
 
HER FIRST YEARLY MEETING 103 
 
 " We must not choose without Mother," said 
 Ann ; but to find mother at leisure for shopping- 
 was not easy. 
 
 They shared the lodging with PrisciUa Hannah 
 Gurney from Coalbrookdale, with whom Sarah 
 Charman had once joined in an adventurous 
 journey in the ministry, visiting Friends in wild 
 Wales, and they had naturally much to say to 
 each other. To the girls this Friend was rather 
 alarming. After a gay girlhood she had returned 
 to the faith of her fathers, and to the most extreme 
 self-abnegation, wearing the flat beaver hat over 
 a black hood, and long green apron, which for 
 some unaccountable reason was considered the 
 outward sign of perfect orthodoxy. 
 
 Her very precise speech and manner made 
 Sarah feel like a country bumpkin, and shrink into 
 a corner, as shy as Ann. But from that corner 
 she heard and saw much. Elizabeth Joseph Fry, 
 as she was called, came in to visit her cousin, 
 fair and stately, and already a Minister, although 
 not thirty years of age ; with all the charm of 
 Earlham manners, and a pleasant word for the 
 bashful girls. When she afterwards became 
 famous Sarah was glad to remember that early 
 interview in the London lodging. 
 
 They went early to Devonshire House on the 
 opening day of Yearly Meeting, and Sarah felt 
 in a new world as she stood in the yard in that 
 
to4 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 gentle buzz of kindly talk that we know so well, 
 but in 1810 the appearance was different, as all 
 who attended were in something like a uniform 
 of browns,, and greys, and drabs. 
 
 Was it real simplicity ? Sarah wondered, as 
 girls flitted past in delicate pearl grey silk dresses 
 and bonnets, with silk stockings and morocco 
 slippers. Ann, who had been educated at the 
 best Friends' School near London, was soon 
 surrounded by schoolmates. Sarah Charman was 
 well known as a Minister all over England, and 
 had. endless warm greetings ; while Sarah Penni- 
 fold stood, with her back to the wall, wishing 
 that she could see just one face that she knew in 
 all the crowd. 
 
 But a small consolation came to her as she noted 
 that there were quite a large number of obviously 
 country folk among them — men, old and young,' 
 sun-tanned and horny-handed, who certainly were 
 farmers ; and women in really simple array, whose 
 hands showed acquaintance with homely work, 
 where not covered by the drab mittens. 
 
 Presently one of these elderly farmers 
 approached her with extended hand. " I think this 
 is a young Friend at her first Yearly Meeting," 
 he said kindly. 
 
 "Yes, thank thee, I never was in London 
 before." 
 
 " And thou comes from the country I can see, — 
 
HER FIRST YEARLY MEETING 105 
 
 so do I, and I can tell thee, young womafl, it is 
 a great thing for us, who meet few Friends, to 
 have this privilege. Thou wilt learn much in 
 the meetings, and soon get acquainted with 
 other young folk. Farewell," and he turned 
 away just as Ann came up, a little conscience- 
 stricken at having left her visitor alone so long. 
 
 " Why, Sarah, didst thou know Jonathan 
 Hutchinson ? " 
 
 " Oh, no ; but he saw I was a sttanger, and 
 spoke so kindly." 
 
 " He is a much beloved Minister. I hope thou 
 wUt hear him preach, but it is time to go in 
 now," and she led the way to the Women's 
 Meeting House, where her mother was already 
 seated among other eminent Friends in the 
 Ministers' gallery, including Mary Pryor, who 
 had had marvellous experiences during her 
 extensive travels by land and sea ; Anna Price, 
 from Wales ; gentle, cultured Mary Capper, who 
 always had the right, loving word for the young;er 
 women, and remarked with satisfaction that 
 there were many more young folk than usual 
 attending that year. 
 
 Ann led Sarah to a raised side seat, and they 
 watched the women Friends filling up the large 
 area with row after row of qniet-coloured 
 shawls, and the rather disguising Friend's bonnet. 
 The speaking in that day was invariably from the 
 
io6 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 upper benches — a voice upraised from the back 
 would have been startling. Two stately women, 
 Hannah Fisher and Ann Lucas, were called to the 
 table and took their places, first laying aside 
 their tunnel-like bonnets, which would certainly 
 have impeded the seeing and hearing necessary 
 for Clerks, and revealing stiff, fresh muslin caps. 
 
 There was far less of business, and more of 
 exhortation than we are accustomed to, and the 
 first sitting was made memorable by a visit from 
 two men Friends ; after having ascertained by 
 an exchange of notes conveyed by door-keepers 
 from desk to desk, that it was " a suitable time to 
 receive a Friend under concern." 
 
 After the affirmative message was sent, the 
 dignified Clerk announced, " The Friend is 
 Benjamin White, from America." 
 
 To Sarah this was wonderful news. She had 
 never seen an American, and here was a Friend 
 who had come thousands of miles with his Gospel 
 message — ^he must be a prophet indeed ! She 
 was not disappointed ; it was a fine, silver-haired 
 man who came in, accompanied by an English 
 minister, Joseph Gurney Bevan. They walked 
 to the centre of the gallery, where the women 
 had moved to leave seats, and after sitting in 
 profound silence for some time, the American 
 rose, and spoke long and earnestly to mothers on 
 the care and teaching of the children entrusted 
 
HER FIRST YEARLY MEETING 107 
 
 to them, and the solemn responsibilities of 
 motherhood. The seed fell on no unreceptive 
 ground, probably in years to come Ann's five 
 children and Sarah's ten benefited by the advice 
 given in the first sitting of Sarah's first Yearly 
 Meeting. 
 
 As they went to dinner, Sarah Charman noted 
 with satisfaction the genuine interest and eager 
 questions of her young guest, and felt more than 
 satisfied that they had done right in bringing 
 her to London. 
 
 The interest deepened as days went on. 
 Nothing came amiss to Sarah. The long Testi- 
 monies (although some Friends in fear of exalting 
 the creature would allude to them as " paper 
 tombstones,") were fuU of human interest, 
 especially one to Deborah Darby, although it was 
 only beginning to be reahsed what an asset to 
 the Society her faithful ministry had brought, in 
 the convincement of the young French nobleman, 
 Stephen Grellet. 
 
 From the men's meeting came a report of 
 " Sufferings " for conscience' sake of a few young 
 men then in prison for refusing to serve in the 
 Mnitia, although their sentences were but for 
 a month, and under no stringent rules. 
 
 Also of Friends' horses and waggons being 
 commandeered to carry baggage, and Sarah 
 thrilled with pride when she heard that " to 
 
io8 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 punisli a young Friend in Surrey for protesting 
 against such a use of his property, the military 
 captain, although he had sufficient waggons to 
 carry all his baggage, laid a single musket in that 
 of John Robinson, and compelled his carter to 
 take it all the way to Lewes." 
 
 From the Men's Meeting also came the report 
 of Ackworth School, and of the new one at Sidcot, 
 which had been established for the children of 
 Western Friends two years before ; and also a 
 concern of Richard Cockin, that when Ministers 
 were to be recorded, it should be done in confer- 
 ence of men and women Friends instead of, as 
 in the past, by the Men's Meeting only. 
 
 This innovation must have been accepted at 
 once, for the following year Ehzabeth Fry speaks 
 of having been present at such a conference when 
 her sister, Priscilla Gurney, was recorded a 
 Minister. 
 
 The great Meeting for Worship gave the only 
 opportunity to hear men as well as women. 
 Sarah's kindly acquaintance, the Lincolnshire 
 farmer, Jonathan Hutchinson, spoke most im- 
 pressively, and also the handsome, dark-eyed 
 Henry Tuke, from York, and the apostoUc 
 Thomas Shillitoe. Taking notes was not then 
 invented, but the country girl had a marvellous 
 memory, and those sermons were stored away 
 to be often pondered over in future daj-s. 
 
HER FIRST YEARLY MEETING 109 
 
 At last came the day when Sarah Charman was 
 at liberty to go to the wonderful china shop, 
 at which the girls had peeped many times as they 
 walked along Bishopsgate between meetings. 
 
 " We will look for Sarah's first," she said, and 
 asked the shopnian for a neat set about two guineas. 
 
 " I should recommend the Newhall china, 
 Madam, very neat and chaste," he said, having 
 sounded the taste of Quaker customers before, 
 and a set was displayed with which Sarah was 
 charmed. The oval teapot, with its pretty stand, 
 a covered sugar basin of the same shape, but small 
 as befitted sugar at fourteenpence the pound ; 
 cream jug, cups and saucers, and cake dish ; but, 
 oddly enough, no plates. It was of delicate, 
 white, gilt-edged china ; on each piece was a 
 rather faint grey landscape, and in the foreground 
 a shepherd driving a flock of sheep. What could 
 be more appropriate for a farmhouse ? It was 
 paid for, and ordered to be carefully packed and 
 sent by a carrier who every week made the journey 
 from Crawley to London. 
 
 Then came Ann's turn. Cost was not so needful 
 to consider here, and mother and daughter agree 
 in choosing one of the best of the NewhaU sets, 
 with high, pagoda-like lids, and a different land- 
 scape in black and white deUcately painted on 
 each piece, which included a dozen coffee mugs^ 
 How charming the girls thought it ! 
 
no THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 " It is worth while getting nice ones," said Sarah 
 Charman, " for the best tea set should never be 
 left to servants, and if you wash them with your 
 own careful hands, there is no reason why they 
 should not go down to your grand-children." 
 
 " And they are so alike," said Sarah, merrily, 
 " that when there is a wedding, or other great 
 occasion, our grandchildren can lend them to each 
 other, if they live near enough." 
 
 " Perhaps our grandchildren will be the same 
 people, and both sets stand in one glass cupboard," 
 — which was a wonderful speech for shy Ann, but 
 the genial companionship of the downright Sarah 
 had thawed her reserve to a surprising extent. 
 
 Pleasant days must end, and on the first of 
 June the strong chestnut horse took the party 
 safely back to take up the workaday life of the 
 country again, but for Sarah life was always the 
 richer for this kind plan of her good friends the 
 Charmans. 
 
 Both girls were married within a few months, 
 and Ann Elgar attended Yearly Meeting as 
 representative in the year 1 8 1 7, leaving two little 
 children in her Reigate home. 
 
 It was many years before Sarah was again able 
 to visit London, but through all those busy 
 years there were pleasant memories, and constant 
 happy references in her talk with her good husband 
 to the grand event of her first Yearly Meeting. 
 
DRAWN FOR THE MILITIA 
 
 1814 
 
 " Daniel, what art thou about ? " The master's 
 voice was sharp and worried, as he called from 
 a small counting-house at the back of a draper's 
 shop — the largest in the m^arket town of 
 Chelmsford. 
 
 " Just putting up the shutters. Friend Boyce," 
 came a cheery answer. 
 
 " That is the 'prentice's duty." 
 
 " Yes, but thou sent Thomas with that heavy 
 roll of linen to Tailor Jenks, and our friend Jimmy 
 here is not quite man enough yet to manage it 
 alone. There, Jimmy, that is the last — now the 
 iron bar, and we shall have done." 
 
 " He has a kind heart, has Daniel," mused the 
 older man, " and ill news can wait. I may as well 
 let him have his supper in peace for this Militia 
 business will trouble him sorely." 
 
 A few minutes later the whole family gathered 
 round a table in the back parlour, presided over 
 by the strict, but kindly mistress, Deborah Boyce, 
 in the high-crowned Friends' cap and kerchief 
 of the year 1814. She was an excellent house- 
 
112 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 keeper, her good plain fare was muchappreciated 
 not only by little curly haired Jimmy, and sixteen 
 year old Thomas, but by Daniel Pryor Hack, 
 who had lately been promoted to be shopman, 
 and was indeed, with his trustworthy diligence, 
 his employer's right hand — rmore so than Mark 
 Gainsford, who was older but of less dependable 
 character. 
 
 The meal ended, Joel Boyce drew from his 
 pocket a paper. " hook here, Daniel and Mark, 
 this was lef]t here this afternoon by one of the 
 lackeys of the Lord Lieutenant of the county, 
 I thought this Militia trouble was over, now 
 Bonaparte is safely shut up in the island of 
 Elba. There is now no excuse of the fear of 
 invasion, but there are minds that think a man 
 is made for the express pur.pose of killing, or being 
 kiUed, and our new Essex Lord Lieutenant seems 
 that sort. He has resolved to revive the troop of 
 county militia, and each householder has to^ 
 furnish the names of every man in his house 
 between the ages of eighteen and forty-five, so 
 both of you are included, unfortunately. I only 
 escape by one year myself." 
 
 The young men looked grave and startled. 
 " Is it the law that all must join in the training ? " 
 
 *' No, they draw lots in some way and take a 
 certain percentage, twenty-five in the hundred, 
 perhaps, and this paper says they must be sound 
 
DRAWN FOR THE MILITIA 113 
 
 in wind and limb, and over 5 ft. 4 inches in height. 
 Thou, Daniel, has no hope of escape there." 
 
 " No, for I am full 5 ft. 8 inches." 
 
 " And thou, Mark ? " 
 
 " I believe I am just 5ft. 4 inches !" 
 
 " And thou art of age, but thou, Daniel, art 
 not. Really it wns a pity thy father apprenticed 
 thee at thirteen, for 'prentice lads are exempted, 
 but thy indentures for seven years have run out, 
 and I cannot claim thy services. We have a good 
 many Friends in this Meeting who, I fear, are 
 liable. If they are drawn and refuse to serve, 
 or to pay a substitute, they are fined, and their 
 goods are taken, if they have any ; otherwise it 
 means gaol, where I do not desire to see either 
 of you, although our forefathers suffered for 
 righteousness' sake in far worse gaols than ours 
 at Moulsham. But there ! — ^it is no use borrowing 
 trouble, your names may not be drawn, or some 
 other v/ay of escape may be provided for you. 
 Are you going out this evening ? " 
 
 " I mean to look in at my uncle's," said Mark, 
 as he left the room. 
 
 " And I thought of taking a brisk turn on the 
 Broomfield Road, as the moon is full, and then 
 I may call at Robert Marriage's." 
 
 " Ay, do — and do not hurry back for nine 
 o'clock reading if thou prefers to stay ; our good 
 Friend Mary Marriage is a wise 'counsellor, if 
 
114 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 thou cares to lay this matter before her. It will 
 be a testing time to many of our young men 
 Friends — ^may they have grace to uphold their 
 principles." 
 
 Away went Daniel, and his light, springing 
 steps soon left the town behind. The season was 
 late April, and the air was mild, and full of sweet 
 spring scents. The glorious full moon looked 
 down on the dewy meadows, making the scene 
 almost as light as day. 
 
 The shop hours were long, and Daniel loved 
 to get away from the noise of the paved streets, 
 and the scent of corderoy and leather, for a breath 
 of fresh air of the evening, although the dead 
 level of the country round Chelmsford seemed but 
 a poor substitute for the rolling Downs and fresh 
 sea breezes of his native Brighthelmstone. It 
 was his only chance of solitude for spiritual 
 communion, and greatly valued by him, for 
 Daniel was one of those happy souls who could not 
 remember the time when his Father in Heaven, 
 and his loving Saviour had not been to his spirit 
 living realities, guiding, helping, comforting, in 
 all the boyish trials and temptations of school 
 and 'prentice life. But Daniel was a man now — 
 twenty last October — and he felt that April 
 evening as if the first testing time of manhood 
 was coming upon him. His whole nature and 
 education revolted from the thought of military 
 
DRAWN FOR THE MILITIA 115 
 
 service — ^the idea of being trained to send his 
 brother men to stand before their time at the 
 Judgment seat of Christ, was most appalling — 
 men who were fashioned in God's image, and 
 although nominally " enemies," were human 
 beings, with places and families of their own, 
 where hearts would be broken by their non- 
 return. No, a militia-man he could never be. 
 Would it be right to pray that his name should 
 not be drawn ? Daniel was shy and sensitive, and 
 shrank from the publicity, the sneers, and un- 
 comprehending abuse, that he knew other Friends 
 had had to encounter who refused military 
 service. Could he ever face that ? And prison ! 
 To be locked in alone in the unsavoury cells — the 
 same where the very lowest criminals were 
 housed — to hear the key turned in the lock, and 
 know that one cannot get out, except at the 
 caprice of the gaoler, and when released to be 
 pointed out as the man who had refused to serve 
 his country, and, perhaps, his master's business 
 suffering thereby — ^that business which he had 
 taken such an honest pride in improving. Daniel 
 stood leaning on a meadow gate, feeling that the 
 path before him was iull of thorns. But in the 
 sweet silence the comfort came — old words of 
 Scripture, conned long ago, had a new mea ling. 
 " God is faithful. Who will nor suflFer you to be 
 tempted above that ye are able, but will, with 
 
ii6 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 the temptation, also make a way of escape that 
 ye may be able to bear it." It was enough. 
 Daniel laid his fears aside, and walked briskly 
 back to Chelmsford. In Conduit Square he 
 rapped at the door of a large private house, and 
 was soon ushered by a maid into a pleasant parlour, 
 lighted by a wood fire, as well as a single dip 
 candle in a tall silver candlestick, with silver 
 snuflEer tray beside it. A sweet-faced, motherly 
 Friend rose to meet him. " Well, Daniel, this 
 is pleasant to see thee, for I am all alone, my 
 Robert has driven my girls over to see their 
 cousins at Witham, and will stay the night. 
 How hast thou been faring of late ? Are things 
 going well in the shop ? " 
 
 " Thank thee, Mary Marriage, all goes well 
 there, but hast thou heard that all young men's 
 names are demanded for the Essex troop of 
 militia ? " 
 
 " No, indeed ! Then that was the meaning 
 of the paper the lackey left here to-day, but we 
 have no men of the right age in our household. 
 I suppose there are several in Friend Boyce's ? " 
 
 " Only Mark Gainsford and myself," and into 
 the sympathising ear Daniel poured all his hopes 
 and fears, for Mary Marriage, the principal 
 minister of Chelmsford Meeting, was one before 
 whom shyness and reserve fled away, and 
 she had long recognised in Daniel Pryor Hack 
 
DRAWN FOR THE MILITIA 117 
 
 a character who was being led by Divine grace 
 to become a power for good in the church and 
 in the world. 
 
 " I am afraid I am a sad coward," said the 
 young man. " I shrink so from the publicity — 
 and from being shut up in that dismal, dirty 
 gaol, all alone." 
 
 " We will come and see thee," said Mary 
 Marriage, smiling. " Cheer up, Daniel ! If this 
 trial comes to thee, grace will be given to bear 
 it, as it has been given to many a faithful soul in 
 the past. Does thou remember when we were 
 at Colchester Quarterly Meeting three years ago 
 how interested thou wast in seeing the cell where 
 young James Parnell laid down his life triumph- 
 antly for the truth ? The grace that helped him 
 is stiU available for thee, and Mary Pryor's 
 grandson need not shrink from foUovring Divine 
 leadings. Thou knovre how her faith saved the 
 unseaworthy ship Fame, in which she had been 
 led to embark for America sixteen years ago ? " 
 
 " Yes, my mother has often told me, and I 
 remember how delighted we all were to welcome 
 her back. She is the best of grandmothers, and 
 writes to me still, although so old and feeble." 
 
 " I expect I may have the privilege of meeting 
 her next month, as I heard she was coming to 
 thy aunt Savory's for Yearly Meeting, and I 
 wiU tell her about thee, and how we Chelmsford 
 
ii8 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 Friends value thy company." And Daniel took 
 leave, feeling greatly cheered. 
 
 The Boyces were just preparing to retire for 
 the night. " Take a fresh rush with thee," said 
 the mistress. " Mark has been gone some time, 
 and his will be out." 
 
 Daniel took a rush from the long box on the 
 sideboard, lit it at the candle, and mounted the 
 stairs, holding it in his fingers. Mark greeted 
 him, " I am glad to see that new rush, I have 
 just shifted the last half inch in the pinchers, 
 and it would be out in a few minutes, and I want 
 to talk to thee." 
 
 Daniel substituted the fresh light in the 
 primitive pinchers, stuck into a smooth block of 
 wood ; and proceeded to undress, while Mark 
 went on : " This Militia is a hateful business. 
 One minute I feel one ought to go — ^for, after all, 
 they are only trained for defence in case an enemy 
 lands here — and surely we ought to keep out 
 Boney's hordes from desolating England as they 
 have desolated other lands. What wouldst thou 
 do, Daniel, if the French were to land ? " 
 
 " Honestly, Mark, I cannot say. It would, as 
 thou sayest, be a terrible thing, but Friends say 
 that even that would not justify a Christian in 
 taking up arms — doing evil that good may come." 
 
 " Yes," said Mark, uneasily. " I know all 
 about that view, but thou knows my family are 
 
DRAWN FOR THE MILITIA 119 
 
 not such strict Friends as thine, and why should 
 we men be led by the opinions of the Society — 
 the ministers and elders are not our masters — 
 we are free to do what we think best ; it does 
 not matter what they think." 
 
 " No," said Daniel, slowly, " they are, as thou 
 sayest, not our masters. ' One is our Master, 
 even Christ.' The question that matters is what 
 He thinks." 
 
 Mark was startled. He knew well enough that 
 Daniel was of a religious turn, but never before 
 had he heard the sacred name from his lips, and 
 he felt almost shocked at the suggestion that the 
 Redeemer of the world should know and care 
 what course two young country-town shopmen 
 took in the matter of the Militia. 
 
 " Look here, Daniel," he said. " I don't want 
 to go into training. I always meant to be a real 
 Friend, but to be jeered at as a coward and perhaps 
 sent to prison, I can't face it." 
 
 " It will be hard enough, but there is no use 
 in borrowing trouble, our names may not be 
 drawn, or some other way of escape may arise. 
 They cannot distrain on our goods, for neither 
 thou nor I have any, but a few clothes and books. 
 I believe the fine is ^^10. Friend Wright, of 
 Norwich, paid ^40 for a man to go as his substitute 
 — ^that does not seem to me quite consistent, but 
 Friend Wright has a large family of little ones, and 
 
120 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 we must not judge him. But, Mark, I believe, 
 if we are drawn, strength will be given us to take 
 the right line ; we need not worry ; farewell," 
 and Daniel blew out the rush, and turned to his 
 own corner of the room. 
 
 A few days went by, and a notice was left at 
 the shop that all men of military age were to 
 appear at the Shire HaU for the drawing of the 
 Militia lots. Many were the consultations among 
 young Friends. There were fifteen in the 
 Meeting of military age, several of them struggling 
 young farmers, to whose business the months of 
 absence for training would have been fatal, and 
 many were the grumbles they heard among others 
 of their calHng who declared the paying of a 
 substitute would be the ruin of their prospects^ 
 and roundly abused the militia system, although 
 they had no scruple against fighting, if other men 
 did it ! 
 
 On the Saturday Daniel saw, driving into the 
 town, the high gig and strong grey horse of William 
 Grover, the genial old tradesman from the town 
 of Stansted Mount- Fitchet, who in Essex went 
 by the affectionate nickname of Friend-in-need 
 Grover. Innumerable were the thoughtful kind- 
 nesses the young folk of the Society received at 
 his hands, and to Daniel he was always par- 
 ticularly kind, as coming from the same far-away 
 town of Brighthelmstone, and likely to return 
 
DRAWN FOR THE MILITIA 121 
 
 there, to help in his father's shop, and worship 
 in the new Meeting House lately built upon land 
 which William Grover had inherited from his 
 father, and gladly sold to Friends for the purpose. 
 The good man had heard of the Militia summons, 
 and one after another of the men concerned was 
 visited, sympathised with, and encouraged to 
 stand firm to Friends' ancient testimony against 
 all war. Shopmen were not at liberty on a 
 Saturday, but on the Sunday morning William 
 Grover came early to Joel Boyce's, and had a 
 talk with each young man separately, strengthen- 
 ing the wavering Mark, and speaking to Daniel of 
 the privilege of being called to suffer for Christ's 
 sake. " Remember, Daniel, it is the man he 
 can trust whom the Captain of the ship puts in 
 the hard places. If thy name is drawn, the Lord 
 has singled thee out to testify for Him, and He 
 will uphold thee and bring thee through the trial 
 in a way that will bring honour to the Master's 
 name." 
 
 William Grover walked with the Boyce house- 
 hold to the old Meeting House, which was 
 inconveniently crowded. The visitor took his 
 place among the local elders, and although he 
 spoke no word, all Friends knew that he had come 
 to sympathise with the young men in their 
 difficulty, and felt the presence of the good old 
 man in their midst to be a help and strength. 
 
122 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 On Monday morning Daniel and Mark joined 
 the stream of young men of military age who 
 obeyed the summons of the Lord Lieutenant, to 
 appear before him at the Shire Hall. When the 
 room was full, that dignitary addressed them from 
 the platform, speaking of the honour and privilege 
 of being called to defend their country, but the 
 mass of faces before him looked decidedly 
 sceptical as to that honour, and most were pale 
 and anxious. He went on to say that, wishing 
 to do the drawing with the utmost fairness, he 
 had caused each name to be written on a card, 
 and put into a bag — ^here he raised it from the 
 table, and shook it energetically — and he had 
 brought his own child to draw the names. A 
 pretty little boy of five, with fair curls, and wide, 
 wondering blue eyes, dressed in his first breeches, 
 of green velvet, vnth. large buttons, and a broad 
 muslin frill round his neck, came forward at his 
 father's bidding, and the chubby hand was 
 thrust into the bag, and drew out a card. 
 
 " Every man who hears his name must pass 
 into the next room to be measured, before being 
 finally enrolled," announced a loud voiced clerk, 
 and taking the first card from the child, he read 
 out in a stentorian voice " William Stubbs." 
 There was almost a giggle, and whisper of " a 
 good riddance," as a low, dirty figure shuffled 
 off, drink and vice stamped ' upon his 
 
DRAWN FOR THE MILITIA 123 
 
 countenance, because for twenty-years Bill 
 Stubbs, the idle poacher, hsid been a nuisance 
 in Chelmsford. 
 
 Again the child dived into the bag. " Daniel 
 Pryor Hack " was announced, and pale and erect 
 the quiet, refined young Quaker followed Bill to 
 the ante-room. One by one the others followed — 
 Mark Gainsford, and four other young Friends 
 were amongst those drawn and formed a group 
 on the window-seat — ^Amos Avery, a young 
 farmer, looking very much disturbed. " They 
 will distrain, and probably take my choice sheep, 
 and sell them for far below their value," he said ; 
 " and there will end the prospect of sending my 
 little Bethiah and Tom to Islington School, for 
 the guarded education that their mother so 
 much wishes. And thou, Thomas Gopsil, vsdll 
 probably lose that fine black mare which thy 
 father gave thee as a colt." 
 
 " That I shall not," said Thomas Gopsil, with 
 a twinkle in his eye. " I have no effects whatever 
 to distrain. I made my father a present of 
 Black Delia this morning, and have his acceptance 
 in writing. I don't say he may not give me an 
 equally valuable present to celebrate my return 
 from gaol." 
 
 " Then thou means to face it out, Thomas ? " 
 
 " There is no other possible course for a 
 consistent Friend," said the young man, briefly. 
 
IZ+ THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 Mark shifted his position uneasily ; could he 
 face the fate which Daniel and Thomas were 
 prepared for ? 
 
 Now they were roughly called to come and be 
 measured. Daniel and Thomas led the way ; 
 both were far above the minimum height. Mark 
 came next ; an old sergeant placed him against 
 the board, and put the rule on his head. " If ye 
 warn't a Quaker chap, I should say ye were tall 
 enough, but ye are just a quarter inch below the 
 mark, and we don't want the likes of ye, so be off 
 with ye ! " An order that Mark was not slow 
 to foUpw. 
 
 Meanwhile the other live were quietly telling 
 the military clerk who was t^ng names and 
 addresses, that nothing would induce them to 
 serve, and passed out of the room, followed by a 
 storm of abuse, as white livered curs, from the 
 soldiers present, which the jealous newly-enrolled 
 were not slow to echo. " You wiU hear more of 
 this ; don't think his Lordship is going to pass 
 over it. Serve you shall, or pay a stiff fine, or 
 else be clapped into gaol." 
 
 Without making any answer, the Friends 
 passed quietly out, Mark coming to Daniel's side 
 as they walked quickly back to the draper's shop. 
 Daniel spoke first. " Well, I am glad that Joel 
 Boyce -mil not lose us both, Mark ; it would be 
 hard work for him to carry on the business with 
 
DRAWN FOR THE MILITIA 123 
 
 only Tom and Jimmy. Thou mayst be glad 
 thou stopped growing when thou didst." 
 
 " Thank thee, Daniel," said Mark uneasily, 
 and then blurted out, " I took the heels off my 
 shoes this morning, and they made just the differ- 
 ence ; dost thou think that was a mean trick ? " 
 
 " Well, no. Thou really art not up to the 
 standard, and the way has been made easy for 
 thee. Show thy thankfulness for it by giving thy 
 mind to the business when T am away." 
 
 But for several months the young Friends 
 whose names had been drawn were kept in un- 
 certainty — a peculiarly trying time to one of 
 Daniel P. Hack's sensitive spirit, and in the 
 introspective diary which it was the fashion in 
 those days to keep, he blames him.self severely 
 for " reluctance to resign my will to the Divine 
 will." At length the hour of trial came. Amos 
 Avery's sheep were taken and sold, and Daniel, 
 Thomas Gopsil and George Wood, who had no 
 possessions worth seizing, were haled before the 
 magistrates, and condemned to one month's 
 imprisonment. 
 
 Away to the squalid little prison at Moidsham 
 they were marched, and each shut in a cell alone. 
 Daniel looked around him, and his fastidious 
 taste revolted from the straw mattress, with the 
 couple of dingy blankets, at the barred window 
 hung with cobwebs, at the dirt in every corner. 
 
126 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 In the evening the door was unlocked and some 
 coarse food set upon the table, but he could not 
 touch it, and sat on the stool with his face buried 
 in his hands, feeling bitterly his separation from 
 the kind friends, and homely comforts to which he 
 was accustoriied, and indignaftt that a country 
 which prided itself on its love of freedom could, 
 in the year 1814, condemn men of honest life 
 to such indignities for their Christian faith. 
 Hours passed, and the struggle went on, until the 
 blessed sense of not being alone stole upon him — 
 there was One Whom no bolts could shut out. 
 " No," thought Daniel, " for the Christian there 
 is no such thing as solitary confinement," and 
 when from the street below came the midnight 
 cry of the Town Watchman " All's Well," 
 Daniel responded with his whole heart, " Yes, 
 all is well," and lying down on the uninviting bed, 
 he slept better than he could have thought 
 possible. 
 
 Quite early next morning he was surprised by 
 a visitor, for prison rules in those days were 
 elastic, and a piece of silver in the gabler's haiid 
 would unbar doors. There stood Mary Marriage, 
 in her fresh grey cotton dress, and Friends' 
 bonnet, with a basket covered with a white cloth. 
 " Here, my dear lad, I have brought thee some 
 food. I know thou art a bit squeamish in thy 
 eating ; there is a chicken pie, and these turnovers 
 

 '-h 
 
 MARY MARRIAGE VISITS DANFET, IN PRISON. 
 
DRAWN FOR THE MILITIA 127 
 
 are from my first early codlins, and there is a 
 pat of butter cousin Eunice sent thee. Thou 
 knows she has five little sons, and she bade me 
 tell thee she and other mothers bless thee and 
 the rest for withstanding military tyranny. She 
 feels your faithfulness must tell on public opinion, 
 and that what you are enduring now, may save 
 her boys from ever being drawn for the Militia." 
 
 Much cheered, Daniel accepted the food, and 
 ate with good appetite, meanwhile telling his 
 motherly Friend how, by Divine grace, he had 
 been able to echo the Watchman's cry. She 
 assured him that food would be daily provided, 
 and suggested that he should ask the gaoler to 
 allow him to clean his cell. That functionary, 
 perhaps touched by the cheerful civility of the 
 three young Friends, not only provided them with 
 brooms, and pails, but allowed them to walk 
 together in the prison yard for a great part of the 
 day. Here, through the iron barred gate, they 
 got many a kindly greeting, and it was a particular 
 pleasure to Thomas Gopsil when his father would 
 ride in from their farm on his favourite mare, 
 and put her through her paces outside the gate. 
 Daniel and George, who were not horsey, being 
 rather amused at his devotion to Black Delia. 
 
 Joel Boyce came the first day, with a change of 
 linen, and Daniel's Bible, and William Grover 
 made the long journey from Stansted again to 
 
128 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 cheer the prisoners, and left with them William 
 Penn's two books — No Cross, No Crown, and 
 Fruits of Solitude —^ which Daniel read over 
 and over again, and also a letter which reached 
 him from his grandmother, the eminent Minister, 
 Mary Pryor, in which she expressed her thankful- 
 ness that her grandson " was willing to' suffer for 
 the glorious cause of truth and righteousness on 
 the earth." 
 
 Compare|l with modern stringent prison 
 discipline, and vindictive sentences on these who 
 hold the same faith, that month's imprisonment 
 seems a trifling thing to have suffered, but it 
 was with thankful hearts that the young men 
 vralked forth free at the end of their term. Only 
 a very few more Friends suffered imprisonment 
 for, refusing military service for more than one 
 hundred years after these three were released. 
 
 The following year Daniel Pryor Hack returned 
 to his native town of Brighton — as it began to be 
 called, and helped his father, with the same business 
 ability which Joel Boyce had valued. As y^ars 
 went on he disliked the trade of supplying finery 
 for the gay followers of the Prince Regent, and 
 gave up the drapery trade, but filled his time with 
 useful work, up to the great age of ninety-one 
 for his native town as well as a minister in good 
 esteem among Friends. Always hospitable, and 
 genial, he loved to tell young Friends of his 
 
DRAWN FOR THE MILITIA 129 
 
 experience in Chelmsford gaol, and of the 
 thoughtful kindness which had softened that 
 hard time ; and if the gentle, meek, old man 
 could be said to be proud of any part of his life, 
 it certainly was of having suffered for conscience 
 sake. 
 
AN EMPEROR'S VISIT 
 
 1814 
 
 Roads were matters of great importance in the 
 year 1814, when railways were not, and passengers 
 and goods alike could only move about drawn by 
 horses on the great highways. The Brighton to 
 Dover road was one of the best, and, as it wound 
 through the fertile fields just north of Pevensey 
 Level, it was broad and solid, well made of the 
 black and white flints from the range of rolling 
 Downs which ends in Beachy Head, a few miles 
 away. 
 
 Here it passes a farm with the picturesque name 
 of Amberstone. The gate stands under a group 
 of tall Scotch firs, and behind is a roomy, sub- 
 stantial, square house, built of brightly glazed 
 black bricks. It faces the north, and is far from 
 beautiful, but to Nathaniel Rickman, who had 
 built it to replace a tumbledown old farmhouse, 
 it was all that was admirable ! 
 
 To it, in the last year of the eighteenth century, 
 he had brought his bride, Mary Robinson, from 
 a farmhouse on the Surrey border, a comely 
 woman, very straight and upright, and, tradition 
 
 IJO 
 
AN EMPEROR'S VISIT 131 
 
 says, with the rare gift of walking gracefully in 
 pattens ! 
 
 Mary Rickman had need of all her powers, 
 for children had come fast, and the life of a farm 
 housewife in those days was no sinecure. 
 
 On the warm Sunday noontide of June 26th, 
 1 8 14, she stood under the fir-trees with a sleeping 
 infant in her arms, and two older toddlers 
 clinging to her skirts, watching for her husband 
 and elder children coming home from Gardner 
 Street Meeting. Meeting-going from Amber- 
 stone was far from popular, except to the 
 grave, reserved Nathaniel Rickman, for in those 
 days that Meeting was invariably held in 
 silence, and died the inevitable death soon after. 
 
 A few old people from the scattered hamlets 
 of the large parish of Hurstmonceux attended, 
 and to them, as to Nathaniel Rickman, it may 
 have been held to profit ; but to the children, and 
 to the bright young governess, Mary Ann Dean, 
 fresh from a living London Meeting, it was a 
 weekly penance. To-day, the dead silence, only 
 relieved by the buzzing of a large fly, had been 
 especially oppressive. The heat had made the 
 children restless, until the two youngest dropped 
 asleep, and forgot their troubles. 
 
 Not even the parents, good Friends as they 
 were, had ever thought to prepare those young 
 minds for the hour of worship, and so relieve 
 
132 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 the dull meaninglessness of it for them. " Father 
 expects us to know everything we ought to, 
 without any telling," s^id a lad once, ruefully ; 
 and probably the young people from Amberstone 
 felt the same. Mary Rickman saw the weary 
 party coming towards her, and opening the gate, 
 she spoke brightly : — 
 
 " Children, I have news for you. Tom Fairs 
 teUs me that there will be a great sight this 
 afternoon. The King of Prussia and the Emperor 
 of Russia, who have been visiting our Prince 
 Regent at Brighton, are to come by on their 
 way to Dover, and you will see them. Think of 
 that on Caleb's fifth birthday ! " 
 
 What an excitenient ! fatigue was forgotten. 
 Mary Ann Dean, who knew more of the world, 
 was most interested of aU, and delighted at the 
 prospect. Little Mstry asked the inevitable 
 child's question, " Will they really have gold 
 crowns on their heads ? " and had to be assured 
 that such pomps and vanities were T;insuitable for 
 travelling. 
 
 " Dinner is ready now," said the mother. " I 
 prepared it earlier so that we can watch by the 
 gate," and s6on in the farm kitchen the party 
 sat down, with man and maid at the same table, 
 to partake together of a huge mutton pudding, 
 which had been simmering in the great black pot 
 over the wood fire since early morning. 
 
AN EMPEROR'S VISIT 133 
 
 "Remember, children," said the governess, 
 " that these Kings have come to England to 
 settle up the peace after the long years of war. 
 They are called the Allies, because they joined 
 together against Napoleon Bonaparte, w^ho is 
 now safely shut up in the^ island of Elba." 
 
 " A good riddance, too," said the eldest boy. 
 " How we did hate old Boney when everyone was 
 saying that he was going to invade England, and 
 would certainly land in Pevensey Bay. Father 
 did not say much, but I know he had the waggons 
 ready to take us all up country to Grandfather 
 Robinson's at Hunts Green." 
 
 " There, there, Edwin ; that danger is over 
 now, and we will forget it. When I was at Lewes 
 lately Cousin John told me this Emperor of 
 Russia is a man of most religious and benevolent 
 character. In spite of the arch-enemy Bonaparte 
 having desolated the fair city of Moscow, and 
 whitened the plains of Russia with the bones of 
 his wretched conscript soldiers less than two years 
 ago, the Emperor when in Paris last month, went 
 to see the poor, dying ex-Empress Josephine, 
 and promised to befriend her children. 
 
 " And when he was in London, Stephen 
 Grellet and William Allen had a conc^em to visit 
 him with an address, and found him of a most 
 tender and open spirit. The gay doings at 
 Brighton Pavilion must have been little to his 
 
134 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 taste. I am glad you children should see such 
 a ruler of a great Empire." 
 
 " There are no seconds to-day," said the 
 mother, as she rose from the table. " You know 
 we are going to have Caleb's birthday feast at 
 supper-time, so we must make it up then." 
 
 Caleb, in his little white smock and grey 
 breeches, with a face like a full moon, fairly 
 beamed with delight. The mother thought the 
 pleasure of preparation was better than a 
 " surprise," and on the previous day the small boy 
 had watched, entranced, while she made ginger- 
 bread, and luscious tarts of raspberry jam, one 
 with a marvellously crinkled edge, and a pastry 
 " C," reposing on the jam, for his own especial 
 eating. When white sugar was fourteen pence 
 the pound, as in that long ago war-time, the frugal 
 housewife could make little jam, and it was only 
 used on great occasions. 
 
 " Jane and Betsy, you may hurry with your 
 washing up, and when the kitchens are quite tidy, 
 you can come to the gate to see the fine sight," 
 said the mistress. 
 
 Nathaniel Rickman bade Edwin bring a chair 
 for his mother, and picking up the wicker cradle 
 containing the sleeping baby, he carried it out 
 and set it down on the grass beneath the fir-trees, 
 and the whole family gathered there, a striking 
 group. TaU Nathaniel Rickman, in his First-day 
 
AN EMPEROR'S VISIT 135 
 
 suit of snuff-coloured cloth, with large white 
 cravat, and drab beaver hat with low crown and 
 broad brim ; his comely wife, with her muslin 
 cap and kerchief ; Mary Ann Dean, a fine hand- 
 some brunette, her cheeks blooming with excite- 
 ment, her glossy black hair twisted into a high 
 knot, which showed through the high crown of 
 her London made Friends' cap like a bird in a 
 cage ; the tidy, smooth-haired children in their 
 grey frocks and white pinafores ; no wonder they 
 attracted attention from the passers by. 
 
 Soon the sound of horse hoofs was heard, and 
 along the road from the westward came outriders, 
 followed by a team of four black horses, drawing 
 what, to English eyes, was an oddly shaped 
 foreign carriage. The liveries of the servants 
 told the watchers that it was the King of Prussia. 
 He had his two sons with him, and aU three 
 bowed, rather mechanically, as they dashed past. 
 
 After an interval came more carriages, odder in 
 shape than the first, and, wonder of wonders, 
 the drivers and other servants had beards — ^long, 
 bushy beards, streaming down over their gay 
 liveries ! 
 
 In the second carriage a gentleman was looking 
 at a map, but he glanced up, saw the group under 
 the fir-trees, and called to the red-bearded 
 coachman, " Halt ! halt ! " The carriage 
 stopped, and the gentleman, in a plain brown 
 
136 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 travelling siiit of English make, alighted, after a 
 few words to the lady who sat beside him. With 
 a pleasant smile he advanced to Nathaniel 
 Rickman, and spoke in slow, but correct English, 
 " I pray yOu, sir, are you Quakers ? " 
 
 " Certainly we are," was the answer, courteously 
 given, but with no " flattering title." 
 
 " And this is your home ? Thave much desired 
 to see a Quaker's house ; may we see yours ? " 
 A ready consent was given, and turning to his 
 sister, the Duchess of Oldenburg, he said " Qui, 
 oui ! " The lady alighted, and came smilingly 
 forward to Mary Rickman with both hands 
 extended : " How do you do ? I am glad to 
 see you." 
 
 She wore a sweeping dress of lu&tre, a 
 quiet coloured Indian shawl, fastened by a large 
 jewelled brdoch ; but her bonnet ! — the little 
 Quaker girls looked at it open-mouthed, for it 
 was prodigious in size, of white satin, with 
 enormous ostrich feathers, half a yard high, and 
 of a bright rose colour. 
 
 " May we see your abode, Madame ? " said 
 the Emperor, offering his arm to Mary Rickman. 
 She took it, saying first, " Stay here with baby, 
 children. Mary Ann, wilt thou take my keys, 
 and bring refreshments to the best parlour f " 
 
 The children were nothing loth. The Emperor 
 was far more of an ordinary mortal in their eyes 
 
AN EMPEROR'S VISIT 137 
 
 than his coachman, with his long beard waving 
 as he called strange words to his horses, four noble 
 greys, who stood champing their bits, and tossing 
 their manes with impatience at the sudden halt, 
 their harness gay with bright brass and red tassels. 
 
 Into the best parlour stepped the little pro- 
 cession, a large, low room, with a table covered 
 with a grey cloth, and more boots than would be 
 found in most farmhouses of those days. The 
 walls were whitewashed, and a single picture — 
 the engraving of William Penn's Treaty with the 
 Indians — ^was over the fireplace, and on either 
 side hung what had been Mary's chef d^ceuvre of 
 artistic work in her maiden days — two broad bell- 
 pulls in fine worsted work, with pink roses, blue 
 convolvulus, and a yellow flower unknown to 
 botanists. Poor old treasures ! Many, many 
 years after they stUl hung there, dingy and moth- 
 eaten, over a great heap of wheat, when Amber- 
 stone house was empty and used as a granary ! 
 
 When the royal guests were seated, the Emperor 
 told how he had been much interested in Friends 
 in London. They had even attended, under 
 William Allen's guidance, a meeting at West- 
 minster, and had been much struck with its 
 simplicity and solemnity. 
 
 " What is your profession. Sir ? " he asked. 
 
 " I am a farmer ; I send butter and wheat, and 
 wool and fat cattle to the market town." 
 
138 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 « 
 
 That is well. I take great interest in 
 agriculture. I notice in England that the 
 farms have a great air of prosperity. I wish 
 it were so in my own land. Are many Quakers 
 farmers ? " 
 
 " A good many. It is an honest, necessary 
 trade, in which we are not called to violate our 
 consciences." 
 
 " Ah, you are men of religion — a religion which 
 extends to your everyday life, I would that we 
 had Quakers in Russia." 
 
 Here Mary Ann appeared with a tray, displaying 
 the best cut-glass decanter, wine glasses, and plates 
 of gingerbread and tarts. 
 
 " Is this your daughter ? " said the Duchess, 
 smiling at the blooming girl. 
 
 " No, she is their teacher, and my kind helper. 
 My seven children are all young, and there is no 
 school within reach." 
 
 " May we offer you some refreshment ? " said 
 Nathaniel Rickman. 
 
 " Thanks, I never take spirits," said the 
 Emperor. 
 
 " This is currant wine, made by my dear wife 
 of fruit from our garden." 
 
 The Emperor sipped a glass, and said, " I 
 congratulate you, Madame, on your skill in making 
 excellent wine," which was echoed by his sister, 
 who also praised the gingerbread. 
 
AN EMPEROR'S VISIT 139 
 
 Little Caleb, who had broken away from hia 
 sisters, was peering in at the crack of the door. 
 He saw the dish of tarts handed, and the imperial 
 hand hover over it — then — oh, horror ! the tart 
 with the crinkled edge was chosen, and transferred 
 to the imperial mouth, and a profound disbeliever 
 in the divine right of kings sped away to tell his 
 grievance to the little group at the gate. 
 
 " May we see the rest of the house ? " said the 
 Duchess, and their hosts led the way to kitchens, 
 dairy, and little parlour, and up the broad stairs 
 to schoolroom and bedrooms, light and airy, the 
 beds and windows hung with snowy dimity 
 curtains, and the somewhat scanty furniture in 
 the most immaculate order, for Mary Rickman 
 was a housekeeper whose premises would bear 
 inspection at any time. 
 
 " How neat it is," was the repeated comment of 
 the visitors. 
 
 They returned to the parlour, and lingered, 
 pleasantly chatting, evidently charmed with the 
 quiet simplicity and self-respect of these Quaker 
 country folk, who could be respectful without 
 servility, and friendly without familiarity. They 
 seemed loth to leave, and as they passed out to 
 the carriage, the Emperor said, " We shall often 
 think of you. Commend me to your friends, 
 for I love the Quakers. I bid you farewell, 
 dear Madame," and the Emperor bowed, and 
 
HO THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 kissed the hand of Mary Rickman^the capable, 
 work-worn hand — as if it were that of a princess, 
 repeating the ceremony on the hand of the young 
 governess, to her great elation. 
 
 He then kissed the cheeks of his host, and the 
 two elder boys, who received the salute with 
 sheepish bashfulness, but Caleb made a sudden 
 dive under some low shrubs as the Emperor 
 turned to.hitti, and vanished. " He is shy," said 
 the mother apologetically, as the Duchess, 
 bending her magnificent bonnet, gave her a 
 sisterly kiss, and also to Mary Ann and the little 
 girls. 
 
 They mounted the carriage, the Emperor 
 leaning out to say, " Farewell again. We are 
 going to Russia. It is a long way off, but you 
 vnil not forget us." The red-bearded coachman 
 cracked his whip, the four grey horses plunged 
 eagerly forward, and, followed by the other 
 carriages which had been waiting in the rear, 
 , they started off at a good pace, and soon a cloud 
 of dust was all there was to be seen of their 
 distinguished guests. 
 
 " That is truly a good man," said Nathanid 
 Rickman. " His countenance was a pleasure to 
 look at. My dear," and he turned to his vsdfe, 
 " I am glad we had not quite decided what to 
 name the baby. He must certainly be Alexander, 
 after our noble visitor," 
 
AN EMPEROR'S VISIT 141 
 
 " Ohj what a letter I will write to my parents ! " 
 exclaimed Mary Ann. " They wiU be astonished 
 to hear that their daughter's hand has been kissed 
 by an Emperor ! Oh, children, we shall never 
 forget this day, and the hoiiour of having enter- 
 tained so great and good a man ! " 
 
 " He ate my jam tart," said little Caleb. 
 
DORCAS BROWN'S SCHOOL 
 1825 
 
 " That's for the tell tale tit ! " 
 
 " Ben ! Rube ! You bad boys ! Let I bide 
 — I'll tell mother — O — ^w — ^w." The protest 
 ended in a loud scream, and no wonder, for 
 several handfuls of burdock burrs were being 
 rubbed into the A^ctim's curly red hair. 
 
 The poor little maiden had been contentedly 
 arranging acorn cups on a flat stone under a tree 
 by the roadside, having quite forgotten that she 
 had innocently betrayed a plan of mischief at 
 breakfast time, bringing down on her brothers 
 a sharp warning from the father, which they did 
 not dare defy, but, with the primitive instincts 
 of the savage, they planned reprisals on the 
 culprit. 
 
 But help was near at hand. From the farm 
 buildings appeared the care-worn mother, the 
 coarse apron and none too clean lilac sun-bonnet 
 proclaiming it was milking time. She aimed a 
 cuff at the nearest urchin, but he dodged it with 
 the skill of an expert, and vanished behind the 
 hay-stacks, followed by his brother. 
 
DORCAS BROWN'S SCHOOL 143 
 
 At the same moment a passer-by, whose steps 
 had been hastened by the cry of distress, came up 
 — a tall matron in a Quaker bonnet, drab cotton 
 gown, and spotless kerchief and mittens. 
 
 The mother began to disentangle the trouble- 
 some burrs from the child's ruddy hair, which, 
 being almost of the consistency of wool, was no 
 easy task. Dorcas Brown's instinct was always 
 to help, so, after consoling the sobbing Janie 
 with a cake from her basket, she proceeded with 
 capable fingers to assist in the removal of the burrs. 
 
 " I'm fair ashamed you should have seen this 
 sight, Mrs. Brown," said the mother. " They 
 twins of mine are getting that owdacious they 
 fair maze me, and their father is away to Horsham 
 market to-day, so they are up to more tricks than 
 usual." 
 
 " I know what boys are," said Friend Brown, 
 smiling, " but it is a pity these little lads of thine 
 should not be at school, as they are too young for 
 regular work. Nothing like employment to keep 
 children out of mischief." 
 
 " They did go to Dame Parson's up to Lady- 
 day, but she didn't learn 'em much, and now 
 that the poor old lady is bedridden there is no 
 school within reach. I suppose we ought to 
 teach 'em ourselves as we be both scholars, but 
 there ! you know what a dairy farm is, with the 
 chicken, and pigs, and all — seven days a week 
 
144 THE TIME OF HER I,IFE 
 
 9,n(J no rest. It's all we can do to take 'em to 
 church on Sundays, and make 'em behave their- 
 selves for an hour or two. We would send 'em 
 to school fast enough, and pay for it, if only 
 some one would start a school in Giles Green." 
 
 " There ought to be one," said the Friead, 
 thoughtfully. " There, Janie, that is the last 
 burr. Thou hast stood stiU like a good little 
 maid," and with a kind pat on the plump cheek, 
 and a friendly, farewell to the mother, Dorcas 
 Brown took up her basket, and walked^on to the 
 village. 
 
 Here again the untrained condition of the 
 juvenile population, was forced on her notice. 
 The date was in the early twenties of the nine- 
 teenth century, when George IV. was holding 
 his orgies under the pepper-pot pinnacles of the 
 Brighton Pavilion, dravwng to the place a crowd 
 of fashionable imitators, who poured down the 
 main road in coaches, post-chaises, and private 
 chariots, often stopping to change horses at 
 Giles Green. 
 
 Several of these vehicles were ranged in front 
 of the large inns, and around them were crowded 
 ragged, noisy children, to whom the travellers 
 were throwing pence, and amusing themselves 
 with the wild scramble. 
 
 " Sheer cadging," said Dorcas Brown to herself, 
 regretfully. " Aijid some of them belong to 
 
DORCAS BROWN'S SCHOOL 145 
 
 honest folk who worked hard and never dreamed 
 of begging before the King brought this idle 
 rabble down our road — ^it will be the ruin of 
 Giles Green if it goes on unchecked. I wonder 
 if we could start a school, if Parson Ward would 
 help ? But he is a poor, sickly creature, who 
 never does a thing more than he must. The 
 difficulty would be to find a teacher," and the 
 good woman walked on in deep thought. 
 
 She arid her husband, Seth Brown, had not 
 had much schooling themselves, but they knew 
 the value of education, and had strained every 
 nerve to send all their children to the Friends' 
 School at Groydon, and the girls had even had 
 the advantage of a yfear at the Godlee's very 
 superior school at Lewes. She earnestly desired 
 that her p'oorer neighbours might have 
 some training, and the concern on her mind 
 strengthened as she pondered over the subject. 
 
 After calling at the general shop, kept by a 
 good Friend named James Cox, to leave some 
 kindly token of good-will for his sick wife, Dorcas 
 passed on to a farm-house on the outskirts of the 
 village, the abode of an elderly couple, with a 
 deaf daughter, to whom she had a message. 
 She had not heard that an elder, widowed 
 daughter, Thirza Finch, had returned with her 
 children to live there, so was surprised as she 
 approached the open door to heaf a child's voice 
 
 10 
 
146 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 read slowly and distinctly, " and it fell not ; for 
 it was founded upon a rock." 
 
 Just within the door sat a superior looking 
 young woman, with a black ribbon over her 
 white mob cap, sewing. At the table beside her 
 stood a boy of eight, reading from a large Bible 
 spread out before him, while a girl of ten, seated 
 on a low stool, was stitching away at a linen 
 garment like a woman. 
 
 " Why, Thirza, art thou come back to the old 
 place ? I did not know that, although I heard 
 of thy trouble," said Dorcas, kindly, as the women 
 rose to greet her. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am, when I lost my good man with 
 the fever, father and mother offered house-room 
 for me and Bessie and Jim, and I longed to get 
 them away from London air, and ways, so I came. 
 But we must not be a burden, and if you know of 
 anyone who would give me work, I should be 
 thankful." 
 
 Dorcas sat down, and spoke kindly to the 
 children, commended ■ the neatness of Bessie's 
 sewing, and heard Jimmy read the whole parable, 
 which he did slowly and carefully, and without 
 a stumble. 
 
 " Thy children are a credit to thy teaching, 
 Thirza," she said. 
 
 " Thank you, ma'am ; I do my best for them, 
 for I can't abear to see children run wild. You 
 
DORCAS BROWN'S SCHOOL 147 
 
 know I was in good service before I married, with 
 Quakers, like you, ma'am, and the mistress took 
 such pains to teach me all kinds of sewing ; and 
 the girls used to bring their lessons into the 
 kitchen, and I picked up a good deal from them ; 
 and they, finding I had a mind for it, taught me 
 to read and write, and sum, and lent me books. 
 I have been so thankful that I am able to teach 
 my children, as I find there is no school in Giles 
 Green — and I couldn't afford the pence if there 
 were." 
 
 " Couldst thou not start a little school, Thirza ? 
 I know several who would like to send their little 
 ones to be taught." 
 
 " Oh, ma'am, I am not scholar enough for 
 that ! " 
 
 " If thou canst teach thy own children, thou 
 canst teach other people's, and if thy mother has 
 no objection, this large kitchen would make a 
 good school-room." 
 
 " Mother would not mind ; she and Hannah 
 are mostly busy in the dairy, or with the fowls, 
 and they cook in the scullery. But you see, 
 ma'am, I couldn't start a school without forms, 
 and slates, and books, and I covild never afford 
 them. Such children as I should get would not 
 pay more than threepence at most, and if I had 
 a dozen, or even twenty, it would hardly pay me 
 for my time." 
 
148 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 " It wants a bit of thinking over and planning, 
 but, Thirza, as I came here I was looking for 
 guidance how to find a teacher for Giles Green. 
 Does it not seem as if the Lord had directed me 
 to thee ? Think it over, and I wiU talk to my 
 husband and see thee again before next First day." 
 
 A woman of boundless energy, Dorcas Brown 
 never hesitated* when her interest was once 
 aroused. Her husband was sympathetic, and 
 agreed that the first step was to see the Rector, 
 so the very next day she penetrated to his study, 
 where he sat, in dressing gown and velvet cap, 
 by a fire, although it was early autumn. 
 
 " Thank you, Mrs. Brown, I'm middling — only 
 middling. I've had a touch of my old symptoms 
 lately, and there were the two services on Sunday 
 and a funeral on Tuesday — so laborious — so 
 laborious ! And next week Farmer Pratt's two 
 girls must needs get married on the same day, and 
 one man's name is John Thomas, and the other's 
 Thomas John — so confusing ! I feel quite 
 worried lest I should marry them to the 
 wrong sister ! " And the Rector sighed over 
 his heavy responsibilities. 
 
 But his intentions were quite virtuous, if little 
 Was asked of himself, and when Dorcas unfolded 
 her plan for the needed village school he was 
 quite ready to agree. " My dear wife and I 
 have often said that it is a shame that no one 
 
DORCAS BROWN'S SCHOOL 149 
 
 looks after the village children — they certainly 
 are wild colts, and if you can get them taught it 
 will be a good thing, Mrs. Brown." 
 
 " But thou sees we shall need help. The 
 gentry round might be willing to subscribe, so 
 that Thirza Finch can have a small regular wage 
 as well as the children's pence, besides the first 
 outfit. Could'st not thou invite a few of the 
 leading people here, and talk it over I " 
 
 The Rector consented. An afternoon was 
 fixed, Dorcas undertaking that notice should be 
 given, and he saw her depart with a sigh of rehef : 
 " And I, as Rector, must take the chair — so 
 laborious ! " 
 
 The notices were written out by Dorcas's own 
 children, in the exquisite copperplate hand so 
 carefully taught in Friends' schools of that date, 
 and the boys and girls, with the help of an old 
 pony, delivered them at all the larger houses 
 within four miles of the village. 
 
 The result was most gratifying. The large 
 parlour at the Rectory was crowded. Seth 
 Brown was much respected as an upright and 
 kindly neighbour, and the village magnates were 
 quite ready to listen to his wife's plans. She 
 had Thirza Finch, in her decent black, at hand, 
 and she made a good impression on all. Before 
 they separated, a committee w"as formed to start 
 a village school, with Seth Brown as treasurer. 
 
ISO THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 and enough guineas were forthcoming on the 
 spot to provide the simple outfit, and six months' 
 salary. 
 
 Of this committee Dorcas Brown was the 
 moving spirit. She found that Friends in a neigh- 
 bouring town were interested in a charity school, 
 which she visited, and took careful note of the 
 best apparatus, and where it could be obtained. 
 She arranged that Mrs. Finch should spend a 
 whole fortnight with the mistress to learn school 
 methods ; she interviewed the parents of all 
 children of suitable age in Giles Green who could 
 afford the mighty sum of twopence a week, and 
 the school was opened triumphantly with twenty- 
 five pupils, when the acorn picking was over and 
 the days grew short. 
 
 The very first names to be enrolled were Ben 
 and Reuben Burtenshaw, the irrepressible twins, 
 and their little sister Janie. Their energies, 
 rightly directed, made them eager to get on and 
 to emulate the superior accomplishments of 
 Jemmy Finch. Thirza proved to be a born 
 disciplinarian, firm and gentle, and although her 
 knowledge was small, it was thorough, and all 
 that was needed at first to till such virgin soil. 
 
 Dorcas Brown was almost daily at the school, 
 encouraging, smoothing away difficulties, roundly 
 scolding the idle or dirty, offering prizes for the 
 perfect repetition of the Ten Commandments, 
 
DORCAS BROWN'S SCHOOL 151 
 
 or of the Twenty-third Psalm, and giving Bible 
 lessons which taught riiles for daily conduct with a 
 homely downrightness seldom heard in these days. 
 
 Her daughter Patty, fresh from Lewes school, 
 fixed patchwork by the yard to initiate little 
 fingers in the arts of hemming and sewing, and 
 the sons mended quill pens, and wrote moral 
 copies in books which were so precious that the 
 rule was that only four Unes should be filled in 
 the hour's writing lesson. 
 
 The reputation of the school grew. From 
 farm-houses miles from the village the children 
 came ; little girls in red cloaks, tripping along 
 the muddy roads in pattens which left prints of 
 circles marvellously interlaced ; and boys in grey 
 linen smocks, heavy, hob-nailed boots, and soft, 
 yellow-leather " bootlegs " wdth bright brass 
 buttons, which reached halfway up their thighs, 
 bringing their books and their dinners in flat, 
 home-made baskets of plaited straw. 
 
 Soon the kitchen of Thirza's mother was 
 crowded out, and Dorcas Brown negotiated for 
 a large disused wheelwright's shop, which was 
 roughly fitted up for the purpose. The gentry 
 visited, and approved. They found the sewing 
 they gave was neatly done, and that tidy, obedient 
 little maids and house-boys could be found there, 
 for in those hard times boys and girls of twelve 
 years were compelled to earn their own living. 
 
IS* THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 The numbers became too large for a single 
 teacKer, even when Bessie Finch became an 
 efficient little monitor, so Dorcas Brown made the 
 bold experiment of importing a schoolmaster to 
 Giles Grefen, fortunately finding one who had 
 been an assistant in a large London charity school. 
 He came — a pale, lame man named Mark Ray, 
 and Thirza was glad to turn over to him the bigger 
 boys and girls, so that she could devote her time 
 to the little ones and the needlework. So well 
 did they work together that it led to a closer 
 connection, and Mrs. Finch became Mrs. Ray 
 within a twelve-month. 
 
 Still the school grew, and children had to wait 
 for admission ; although the building was very 
 poor, and much out of repair. Dorcas Brown's 
 busy brain was again at work, and to build a real 
 school-house was her next ambition. 
 
 A suitable plot of ground in East Lane was 
 selected. It was found to belong to a Jew, who 
 was not only rich, but benevolent, and so well 
 did the Quakeress plead the cause of the village 
 children, that he made a free gift of the desired 
 plot, making it over to trustees, one whom of 
 was always to be the Rector of the parish. 
 
 Next came the efiort for the building itself. 
 The time was in the " hungry forties," and few 
 middle-class folk had cash to spare, but the 
 Friends, Seth Brown and James Cox, offered to 
 
DORCAS BROWN'S SCHOOI- 153 
 
 lend horses and waggons without charge to fetch 
 the needful timber, bricks and tiles, which was 
 a good beginning. There is no doubt that 
 Dorcas was an exceptionally good beggar ! She 
 called on the neighbouring gentry, and put before 
 them the duty and privilege of a share in training 
 the children ; she wrote to wealthy and benevolent 
 Friends at a distance, pleading for her village, 
 and her appeals were nobly responded to. 
 
 The school was built — ugly enough without, but 
 decent and roomy within, with desks for a hundred 
 children, in two rooms divided by folding doors. 
 It was a joyful day for Dorcas when she saw 
 the fruit of her labours, and the really excellent 
 teachers working to so much more advantage in 
 better premises. So the school prospered for 
 nearly twenty years from the autumn day when 
 the children's need was first laid on her heart. 
 
 But unexpected difficulties arose at last. 
 Gentle, indolent Parson Ward died, and the 
 living was given to a successor as unlike him as 
 could well be. The Rev. Adolphus Binks Was 
 an energetic, fussy, consequential little man, 
 with a large idea of the authority of the Church, 
 and of its clergy, and a perfect horror of dissent. 
 His genuine zeal, and brisk reading and preaching 
 were a pleasant change. The church people 
 liked him, and he soon had a considerable following 
 in Giles Green. 
 
154 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 In the parish from which he had come he had 
 himself started a village school, where little 
 natives were taught to order themselves lowly and 
 reverently to their betters. A school on more 
 democratic lines was quite beyond his compre- 
 hension, but he began to visit in East Lane, to 
 take an active part as Chairman of Committee, 
 and also wished to become the treasurer, which 
 post Seth Brown willingly resigned into his 
 hands. 
 
 At first the faithful workers of so many years 
 appreciated his interset, but very soon friction 
 arose, and his fussy interference in trifling matters 
 which he did not understand, brought at last a 
 remonstrance from plain-spoken Dorcas Brown, 
 which was hardly politic. 
 
 That the Rector of the parish should have 
 been practically told to mind his own business by 
 a woman, and a dissenter, was unbearable to 
 Mr. Binks, and Mark Ray and his wife, long 
 accustomed to her. common-sense plans, were so 
 impertinent as to uphold her authority ! The 
 Rector bided his time. After seeing Seth and 
 Dorcas drive off to a distant Quarterly Meeting, 
 he summoned a packed committee of Church 
 folk only, and there aired his grievances. 
 
 The school, he said, was not being satisfac- 
 torily taught — not on Church, and practical 
 lines. The last time he visited it Ray had actually 
 
DORCAS BROWN'S SCHOOL iSS 
 
 got a map of the world displayed, and the older 
 boys were reading the story of the Mutiny of the 
 Bounty. What did farm workers want to know 
 about Captain Bligh and his adventures ? — ^it 
 would only make them restless and discontented. 
 
 Then he had gone to the girls' room to see 
 how they were getting on with a set of linen 
 shirts he had given them to make, and he found 
 them reciting together " The Graves of a House- 
 hold," which Miss Patty Brown had taught them. 
 " Now I have no objection to ' Let dogs delight,' 
 or ' The Little Busy Bee,' but to find future cook- 
 maids spouting Felicia Hemans over my shirts ! 
 — ^it won't do — it won't do." 
 
 Then Ray was not really up to his work. A 
 village schoolmaster should always play the organ 
 and train the choir, and this fellow, by his own 
 confession, hardly knew one tune from another. 
 
 Worst of all, he had found that the Catechism 
 was not taught, and when the children recited 
 the Commandments they actually said, " Thou 
 shalt not kill," instead of " Thou shalt do no 
 murder." The Bible version was so liable to be 
 misunderstood by the ignorant — ^Why, we shall 
 have them refusing to defend their country, and 
 objecting to assist at a hanging ; and where 
 would England be then ? 
 
 There was also a lack of good manners in the 
 school. The Rays did not know their place, and 
 
iS6 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 as for that dissenting woman, Mrs. Brown, she 
 acted as if the school belonged to her ! 
 
 At this Ben Burtenshaw, now a spruce young 
 farmer, bristled up. " Well, sir, it is her school ! 
 Giles Green wotild have had no school at all but 
 for her. She has planned it, and begged the 
 money, and built it, and taught in it, year after 
 year. I can say if Reuben and I are worth 
 anything, it is all owing to that good woman and 
 her school, and scores of old pupils will say the 
 same." 
 
 But Ben, the chivalrous, was in the minority. 
 There were other newcomers besides the Rector, 
 and petty jealousies were rife. It ended in the 
 Rays having notice to leave, and Dorcas Brown 
 being turned off the committee. 
 
 Her feeling may be imagined when this news 
 reached her. She had not been brought up a 
 " Friend," or " inured to habits of self-restraint," 
 and in spite of her husband's exhortations to 
 patience, her pungent tongue, as she expatiated on 
 her wrongs, fanned the storm which convulsed 
 the village of Giles Green. 
 
 The Rector brought his musical and Church- 
 trained schoolmaster from his old parish, but 
 there were only a handful of children for him to 
 teach, for most of the parents refused to send 
 them to the newcomer, and begged the Rays to 
 stay in the village and start another school. 
 
DORCAS BROWN'S SCHOOL 157 
 
 The old wheelwright's shop was available, but 
 how poor and dark it seemed after the East Lane 
 rooms ! 
 
 Dorcas, although now getting elderly, was not 
 the woman to sit down in despair, and «he at 
 once set about providing a second school-house 
 for the village. 
 
 The Jewish magnate, who really had a profound 
 respect for the energetic farmer's wife, actually 
 gave her a larger plot of land in a more central 
 situation than East Lane. Again the Friends 
 teams hauled the materials for nothing, again 
 letters pleading for help were sent far and wide. 
 Righteous indignation brought some gifts, and 
 in a short time an excellent new school-house, 
 with dwelling rooms for master and mistress, 
 was built ; with good promises of yearly subscrip- 
 tions to supplement the children's pence, and 
 more pupils than ever crowded to be taught in 
 what was now known as the British School. 
 
 A department for infants was started — ^in those 
 days a great novelty. Dorcas Brown, who had 
 the excellent gift of discerning native capacity, 
 found in one of her own servants the faculty of 
 controlling, as well as loving, little children, and 
 had her trained for the work of Infants' Mistress. 
 This post she held for many years, hundreds of 
 children rising up to call her blessed, and crowding 
 in tears around her grave when she was called away. 
 
IS8 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 The Church school struggled on, helped, after 
 the exit of the Rev. Adolphus Binks, hy mag- 
 nanimous gifts from the Brown family, but the 
 British School continued to be the popular one. 
 
 " Mrs. Brown put our village forty years 
 before others in the school way," said an elderly 
 farmer, when speaking of his early advantages. 
 
 Time went on. Education became compul- 
 sory ; inspections and standards changed the 
 old homely, done-by-hand methods of earlier 
 days, and the school which started with Thirza 
 Finch's two children is now attended by nearly 
 five hundred. 
 
 The trust deeds have passed from the hands 
 of Dorcas Brown's grandsons into the hands of 
 the County Educational Authority ; but the 
 memory of one courageous woman may well be 
 written down to encourage other pioneers in 
 fresh departments of work for the public good. 
 
A BOTANICAL WOOING 
 
 1834 
 
 It was a day of brilliant sunshine, the first 
 of August, 1834, that a solitary pedestrian was 
 toiling up the steep slopes of a mountain in North 
 Wales. Far below him gleamed a blue lake, and 
 beyond its shores rose the peaks of Snowden and 
 its lesser neighbours. The young man often 
 turned round to gaze, for the scene was new to 
 him, and he found the ascent laborious, being 
 strangely out of practice of bodily exertion for 
 a healthy man of twenty-six. 
 
 For five years past Samuel Clough had been in 
 close attendance on his blind father, who had no 
 other near kindred, and in his old age (for he had 
 married late in life) leaned more and more on 
 the quiet, dutiful son, until the young life had 
 been absorbed by the old to an extent which 
 was hardly right. 
 
 But the long strain was over now — the father 
 had passed peacefully away a month before, and 
 Samuel was treating himself to the well-earned 
 rest of a tour among the mountains, which he 
 had often wished to see. 
 
i6o THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 His outward appearance was very unlike a 
 modern tourist's, he being clad in a suit of fine 
 brown broadcloth, of the plainest Quaker cut, with 
 a broad brimmed, drab beaver hat, shading a thin 
 face, with wistful dark eyes, and prim little side 
 whiskers above his large white cravat. Over his 
 shoulder hung by a strap a roomy tin vasculum, 
 in which from time to time he stored some 
 treasures of the almost Alpine flora of the 
 Snowdon Range. 
 
 But still the plant he most desired, the purple 
 Saussurea, eluded him. Here and there he 
 tramped over the hillside, peering among rocks 
 and roughly built stone walls, but in vain ; until 
 he sat down by a stile, also built of stone, to rest 
 and plan for the continuation of his search. 
 
 The place seemed so utterly lonely that he 
 felt it like an apparition when a figure came 
 bounding down the steep pasture towards the 
 stile, a girl in the first bloom of womanhood, and 
 to his astonishment, in plain Friends' dress'. 
 Her little silk bonnet hung by its strings to one 
 arm, a close muslin cap covering wavy fair hair, 
 and encircling round cheeks, and blue eyes, 
 brilliant with exercise. Her stout little shoes 
 and white stockings fairly twinkled as she danced 
 up to the stile, and in her hands, with other 
 flowers, were several sprays of the coveted 
 saussurea ! 
 
A BOTANICAL WOOING. 
 
A BOTANICAL WOOING i6i 
 
 It was evidently no small shock to the damsel, 
 as she mounted the stile, to find herself not alone, 
 and in a moment her air changed to one of prim 
 propriety, as Samuel, shy man though he was, 
 instinctively rose, and offered a hand to steady 
 her descent of the steep stone steps. But 
 botanical enthusiasm overcame shyness, and he 
 ventured a question : 
 
 " I ask thy excuse, but may I know where the 
 saussurea which I see thou hast obtained is to 
 be found ? Thou hast been fortunate to light 
 on it, for I have searched all the morning in 
 vain." 
 
 " Oh, it was no credit to me that I found it, 
 for Dr. Nathan Fox told me exactly where to 
 look." 
 
 " How extraordinary — ^for he also told me, 
 but I have failed to find the spot. It was seeing 
 it in his herbarium made me covet it for mine." 
 
 " Wilt thou have one of these sprays ? I have 
 three — more than I reaUy need." 
 
 " No, I thank thee, I make a point of preserving 
 only those specimens which I gather with my 
 own hands." 
 
 " How droll — I am grateful to anyone who 
 brings me a new flower ; but thou canst easily 
 get this. Dost thou see that pyramid-shaped 
 rock at the top of this field ? There is a mossy, 
 ruined wall runs from that up the mountain to 
 
i6z THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 the left, and at the top of that, on the far side, 
 thou wilt find the saussurea plants in plenty, 
 also, quite near, grass of Parnassus, dear little 
 woodsia fern, and other treasures." 
 
 " I thank thee ; I will at once seek for it." ' 
 
 " Thou wilt have no difficulty. Farewell — 
 my father is waiting for me at the ruined cottage 
 below ; " and away tripped the active girl, 
 leaving Samuel to climb the steep pasture, alniost 
 dazed by the sudden encounter. 
 
 Few men have grown up with less knowledge 
 of womenkind than Samuel Clough. His stern 
 old father had discouraged society, and had a 
 special aversion to his partner's four flighty 
 daughters, the only other young Friends of their 
 small meeting. Their step-mother, Jemima 
 Hales, a Friend of the most rigid type, thought 
 she could discipline the frivolity of the girls by 
 dressing them with the severest plainness. Drab 
 cotton bonnets, drab gowns, drab mittens and 
 coarse shoes, had no effect on shallow natures 
 which craved for pretty things. They were not 
 allowed to learn drawing, even a love of flowers 
 was discouraged, and so much did the mother 
 dread " publications of a hurtful tendency " that 
 the poor girls got no publications at all. 
 
 It is difficult now to imagine such lives of 
 empty repression. There was no outlet for 
 energies, or tastes, and no escape, except by the 
 
A BOTANICAL WOOING 163 
 
 way of marriage. What wonder that in after 
 years several of them wrecked their lives by most 
 unsuitable matches, and that now they were 
 induced to make a set on the only eligible man 
 within their reach. Many a time did Samuel 
 turn into shops and buy needless articles, rather 
 than meet them and their smirking overtures in 
 the street. How different was the frank, friendly 
 air of this blithe, active damsel of the Welsh 
 mountains ! 
 
 He found the desired plant, and returned to 
 his hotel well pleased. The table d'hote had 
 been a trial to him, for the inn was filled with 
 two parties of noisy, worldly folk, who, he 
 instinctively felt, were quizzing him. It was 
 the more pleasant to him to see an elderly couple 
 of his own denomination when he strolled into 
 the garden to await the evening meal, and to be 
 met with a kind greeting. 
 
 " Why, surely this is James Clough's son ? 
 — Samuel, I have heard him call thee. I am 
 Robert Redford, and this is my wife, Rachel. I 
 have often noticed thy care of thy blind father at 
 Yearly Meeting. Thou hadst our sympathy 
 when we heard of his decease." 
 
 " And Hannah Leslie was thy mother — dear 
 creature, she and I were schoolmates, but I never 
 met her after her marriage. Dost thou remember 
 her ? " 
 
r64 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 " Oh, no, I was only two years' old when she 
 died." 
 
 " Then who cared for thee as a child ? " 
 
 " My old hurse, Nancy — she is our housekeeper 
 Tstill, although getting rather feeble." 
 
 " And thou hast no near relatives ? " 
 
 " No, both my parents were only children. I 
 have some distant cousins in the west, but they 
 are strangers. My old tutor (for father would 
 never allow me to go to school) is my nearest 
 friend now, and he advised me to take a month's 
 holiday in Wales." 
 
 " We are doing the same. I promised my 
 girls when the work for the emancipation of the 
 West Indian slaves was over, I would treat them 
 to a driving tour, and they are enjoying it greatly ; 
 especially the youngest, who has been a good deal 
 with our cousin Nathan Fox, and learnt to share 
 his enthusiasm for botany." 
 
 " It was Dr. Fox who introduced me to the 
 study of plants. He came to prescribe for my 
 father's eyes three years ago, but could not help 
 them. He was very friendly to me, and made me 
 promise to take a brisk walk daily, saying it would 
 add to the interest if I had the object of making an 
 herbarium. I have found a great variety even 
 in our flat fields and salt marshes, but these 
 mountain flowers are quite new to me, and very 
 beautiful." 
 
A BOTANICAL WOOING 165 
 
 " Thou must have been the Friend whom my 
 daughter Priscilla met this morning. She feared 
 thou wouldst think her a sad hoyden, but she 
 had lost count of time among her flowers on the 
 mountain, and was afraid her father would be 
 tired of waiting for her — ah, here they come. 
 My dears, this Friend is Samuel Clough, 
 whose mother was a dear schoolmate of mine. 
 This is my daughter Catherine, and this is 
 Priscilla." 
 
 Both girls shook hands pleasantly ; Catherine, 
 who was a few years the elder, made some remark 
 on the beauty of the evening, and PrisciUa asked, 
 " Didst thou find the saussurea ? " 
 
 " Yes, I thank thee, thy directions took me 
 directly to it. Had I not met thee I should have 
 given up the search in despair." 
 
 " The beauty of the weather suits with the 
 thankfulness of our hearts that the slaves are to-day 
 free," said Robert Redford. " We have been much 
 engaged with FoweU Buxton and his friends in 
 working for this great object, and it seems almost 
 too good to be true that the long desired Uberty 
 is attained at last." 
 
 " My dear father took a great interest in 
 emancipation, and had every report read to him 
 of the progress of the work. He knew FoweU 
 Buxton well in former years, and much admired 
 his zeal in following up William Wilberforce's 
 
i66 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 work," said Samuel, who was thoroughly versed 
 in the struggle for the negroes' freedom. 
 
 " Some are anxious lest there should be riots 
 in the West Indies to-day ; the slaves are but 
 children in mind, but we trust that thankfulness 
 and sobriety will prevail. Fowell expects to 
 hear about the middle of Ninth month how this 
 great day passed off." 
 
 " How hard he has worked ! " said Catherine 
 " and his daughter too. We have felt it a privilege 
 to work with Priscilla Buxton. Didst thou hear 
 of the great petition from the females of Great 
 Britain that the slaves might be set free ? There 
 were 178,000 signatures, all collected in ten days. 
 Fowell Buxton had to ask, three of his colleagues 
 to help him to carry it to the Bar of the House. 
 Several women Friends spent days sorting the 
 sheets and pasting them together, after we had 
 carried them from house to house asking all women 
 to sign. Very few refused — ^it was a most inter- 
 esting task. Was it done in thy town ? " 
 
 Samuel remembered it had been spoken of, and 
 how Jemima Hales had refused to let her daughters 
 assist, saying, " It was quite unsuitable for young 
 females." Yet these much more attractive 
 maidens had done it simply and naturally, feeling 
 it a privilege to help the oppressed. 
 
 Then Robert Redford, in a lighter tone, said, 
 putting his arm round PrisciUa's waist : " Ah, 
 
A BOTANICAL WOOING 167 
 
 it is emancipation day for someone else besides the 
 slaves ! Wouldst thou believe, Samuel, that the 
 youngest of my seven children has come of age, 
 so my authority as a father ceases to-day. This 
 young woman can now do legally whatever she 
 pleases, and I cannot prevent it ! " 
 
 " I don't think thou hast found that coming of 
 age made much difference to the rest of us, 
 father, dear," said Catherine, smiling. 
 
 " Perhaps not, Kitty, but Pris is different. 
 Pris is the youngest, and a spoilt puss. None of 
 the rest of you, on your twenty-first birthday, 
 came bounding down a mountain like a wild 
 Welsh goat, crying, ' I have found it ! I have 
 found it ! ' and then showing me only a little 
 purple flower not half so pretty as many that we 
 see along every roadside." 
 
 " How dost thou fancy that I may make a bad 
 use of my independence, father ? " 
 
 " Why, we might see thee in a green silk mantle, 
 and a pink bonnet, like that gay young Liverpool 
 madam in the inn there, and / could not forbid 
 it, because thou art an infant no longer." 
 
 PrisciUa laughed merrily. " Dear father, thou 
 need'st not be afraid of my wishing to make 
 such a gaudy scarecrow of myself — I like 
 the Friends' dress, though I do not want to 
 wear a bonnet as long as mother's — ^it shuts 
 one in so." 
 
i68 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 " Thou need'st not, little one. I can trust 
 thy mother's daughters to observe simplicity and 
 moderation, and it does not follow that what is 
 right for one generation should be imposed upon 
 the next." Then, resuming his tone of whimsical 
 complaint, he went on : " Only to think that I 
 have now no one to obey me ! AH my children 
 are of age, and I married thy mother at meeting. 
 If it had been at church now, she would have 
 promised to obey, and I should still have someone 
 to order about." 
 
 To Samuel this playful tone was entirely new, 
 and very astonishing. His father would have 
 been shocked at such " light conduct," in a man 
 of Robert Redford's standing, and Jemima Hales 
 would have acidly compared it to " the crackling 
 of thorns." 
 
 He glanced at Rachel Redford, whom he knew 
 to be a minister in good esteem, but she was 
 listening with an amused smile, although she 
 made no lattempt at repartee. 
 
 It was Catherine who took up the subject. 
 " Priscilla Buxton, whose wedding day it is (I 
 suppose she is Priscilla Johnston by this time) 
 said that with a man like her Andrew, she had 
 not the least objection to promise to obey. She 
 showed us the order of marriage service in her 
 prayer book, and she seemed to like it, although 
 her parents were married at meeting." 
 
A BOTANICAL WOOING 169 
 
 " I did not like it," said Priscilla, bluntly ; 
 " There was so much of it, and some parts did 
 not seem to me at all nice, but I suppose church 
 folks are used to it. But our Friends' ceremony is 
 so much more simple and straightforward." 
 
 Here the supper b^ll rang. Rachel asked the 
 lonely young man to sit with their party, and with 
 her gentle, motherly talk put him at his ease as 
 he had never felt in any woman's society before. 
 
 As they rose she said, " We must retire early, 
 for we have a long day's excursion to Beddgelert 
 to-morrow. Would'st thou like to join our 
 evening reading in our lodging room before we 
 separate ? " 
 
 Samuel went gladly. A single dip candle gave 
 but a poor light, and after opening a rather small 
 Bible, Robert Redford said, " Younger eyes than 
 mine are needed for this print ; here, Prissy, my 
 child, come and read for us, as it is thy birthday. 
 Read the 103 rd Psalm, my dear one. That will 
 echo the thankfulness of our hearts this great day." 
 
 Chairs were not plentiful, and Samuel sat by 
 Catherine in the deep wdndow seat. He never 
 forgot that scene. The shadows flickering on the 
 whitewashed wall, the great bed with its four 
 posts and dark green hangings, the good, silver- 
 haired couple seated side by side, and Priscilla 
 by a small table, the candle lighting her fair hair 
 and snowy kerchief as she read. 
 
170 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 How beautifully she rendered the Psalm. It 
 was not only the reading of a sweet-voiced, 
 educated woman, but of one who evidently 
 entered into the spirit of every word. " The 
 Lord executeth righteousness and judgment for 
 all who are oppressed," she read ; and the 
 thoughts of the listeners were with the long 
 oppressed race who had that day obtained their 
 long delayed freedom. Priscilla finished the 
 latter verses in a tone of triumphant praise, then 
 closed the book, and a deep silence fell on the 
 little company. It was broken by the mother 
 giving heartfelt thanks for the great event of the 
 day, and with cheerful good-nights they separated. 
 
 The following morning Samuel stood with 
 Robert Redford on the steps of the inn, awaiting 
 the carriage. " We have a Welsh coachman," 
 he said, " or we should hardly have ventured to 
 come on mountain roads with our London horses ; 
 but David Griffith is a careful driver, and manages 
 the steep ups and downs well. W^e spent a night 
 at his native village, near Bala, where he had not 
 been for twenty years." 
 
 " Yes," said Catherine, as she joined them ; 
 " we wondered what his prim little English wife 
 would have thought had she seen him with the 
 tears running down his cheeks, and a dozen old 
 friends trying to shake hands at once, all talking 
 Welsh at the very top of their voices ! They are 
 
A BOTANICAL WOOING 171 
 
 an excitable race, but David is sober enough 
 in the usual way — ^here he comes," as a 
 comfortable carriage, with a pair of strong bay 
 horses, and a capable looking driver drew up at 
 the door. 
 
 Samuel saw them off, and then started on his 
 own excursion. He had bespoken a guide to 
 take him to Lyln Idwel, and the strange chasm 
 called " The Devil's Kitchen." The man could 
 speak so little English that he was not interesting, 
 and was evidently much puzzled at the strange 
 gentleman's habit of putting little weeds carefully 
 into a tin case. 
 
 Samuel found himself wondering if Priscilla 
 had found this or that rare flower, and when they 
 met at supper had a number to show her : the 
 Rose-root, the Lesser Thahctrum, the Butter- 
 wort, the Star Saxifrage, and even a little tuft 
 of the purple saxifrage, which had delayed its 
 blooming by some months, as if to please the 
 botanists. 
 
 It was Saturday evening, and Robert Redford 
 said, " There are other Friends staying in the 
 village. I met Louisa Sims, of Manchester, and 
 her three brothers. I should like to ask them to 
 join with us on First day for a period of worship, 
 but in neither inn is there a private sitting-room 
 to be had, so I do not know where we could sit 
 down." 
 
172 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 " Oh, father," said Priscilla, eagerly, " could 
 not we have meeting in that rocky nook among 
 the fir trees that we found the other day ? Th^re 
 is a fallen tree to sit on, and if we carried up the 
 rugs we should be quite comfortable. It is well 
 away from any path, so we are not likely to be 
 interrupted." 
 
 " A very good thought, Pris. I will go down 
 to the other inn presently and ask the Sims 
 family to join us at ten o'clock, so that we can 
 walk up slowly together, as it looks likely to be a 
 hot day." 
 
 The plan was carried out. When the party 
 reached the nook, Priscilla took the rug from 
 Samuel's arm and spread it over a log. " There, 
 dear mother, that is the gallery, and thou and 
 father can sit side by side as you do at home." 
 
 The other rug softened a flat rock where 
 Catherine and her sister, with Louisa Sims 
 between them, seated themselves. Her three 
 btothers and Samuel found seats near, and the 
 Quaker silence fell, broken only by the songs of 
 larks over the open pasture near. 
 
 Robert Redford sat with both hands on his 
 stick, his chin resting upon them, and his eyes 
 closed, apparently unconscious that he was not 
 in his usual seat in the suburban Meeting House. 
 His wife permitted herself as much outlook as 
 her tunnel-like bonnet allowed, and sat with her 
 
A BOTANICAL WOOING 173 
 
 eyes fixed on the distant mountains, and an 
 expression of deep peace on her sweet face. 
 
 The well-trained younger people sat motion- 
 less, so that a squirrel came on the branch above 
 them, and peered down inquisitively, and a 
 robin alighted at their very feet. After some 
 twenty minutes of this silence, Rachel Redford 
 spoke. 
 
 " I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from 
 whence cometh my help," she began, and went 
 through the Psalm, dwelling on its promises, 
 especially upon " The Lord shall preserve thee 
 from all evil, He shall preserve thy soul" saying 
 that true spiritual life is untouched, and even 
 strengthened by triah and afflictions. The 
 promise is not for our bodies, but for our souls — 
 the part that will endure : " for the things that 
 are seen are temporal, but the things that are 
 unseen are eternal." 
 
 She ceased, leaving the last solemn words 
 impressed on the minds of her little audience. 
 Again silence reigned, until the eldest of the Sims 
 brothers kpelt on the grass, and began to pray 
 aloud, while the others rose reverently, the men 
 baring their heads to the soft mountain breeze. 
 
 To Samuel it was almost startling. In his 
 Quarterly Meeting only a few elderly people 
 appeared in the ministry, and spoke much of 
 taking up the cross, and of making covenant by 
 
174 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 sacrifice ; but here was a man no older than 
 himself speaking as to a loving Father, giving 
 thanks lor their beautiful surroundings, and for 
 the peace v^dthin which gave the power to enjojr 
 them to the full ; pleading that the rest and 
 refreshment might go with them to their homes, 
 and that they might experience more than ever 
 the joyous privilege of living for the furtherance 
 of the Kingdom of our Lord Jesus Christ. He 
 rose, and again there came a long silence, until 
 Robert Redford turned to his wife, and broke 
 up the meeting by the usual handshake. 
 
 Quietly the nine worshippers took the path 
 down to the lake side. Here the Redfords 
 invited Samuel to stroU a little farther before 
 returning to the inn. He lingered with PrisciUa 
 behind the rest, picking the velvety blue 
 Skullcap, the Marsh-pea, and that daintiest of 
 fairy bells, the Ivy-leaved Campanula ; and 
 noting the clumps of rank green leaves of the 
 Globe-flower, although its time for flowering 
 was long past. 
 
 " Didst not thou feel that was a rightly held 
 meeting ? " said Priscilla, shyly. Her grand- 
 daughter would have said " ideal," but the word 
 was not in use in the year 1834. 
 
 " I never attended a better," Samuel answered 
 warmly. " Our meetings at home are too stiff 
 and formal, and I always feel that some are sitting 
 
A BOTANICAL WOOING 175 
 
 amongst us against their will, and that is enough 
 to spoil the spirit of any meeting. To-day we 
 all seemed in one mind. I have felt it a privilege 
 to be with you." 
 
 " What a pity we cannot always have so 
 beautiful a meeting house," said Priscilla, laughing. 
 " Only in rain or snow four walls and a roof have 
 their advantages, I must confess." 
 
 The intense clearness of the distant landscape 
 was ominous. That night the weather changed 
 and a winterly wind came howling down from the 
 mountains, followed by torrents of rain, and 
 when the travellers gathered for breakfast they 
 could see through the mist that every tiny stream 
 which trickled down the hoary sides of Moel 
 Siabod was swollen to a mad cascade, plunging 
 down to join the river below. 
 
 Loud were the laments of their feUow guests 
 in the inn, for both parties were obliged to leave 
 that morning, and drove oflE in a coach in the 
 pelting rain. Only the Friends remained, much 
 relieved not to be shut in with such uncongenial 
 companions. 
 
 A wet day in a country inn is accounted a 
 disaster, but Rachel Redford was essentially a 
 home-maker — ^wherever she was became cheery 
 and cosy. Finding that her husband was chilly 
 she ordered a fire in the parlour, and announced 
 that it was just the day to get letters written to 
 
176 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 absent member? of the family, and the writing 
 of letters was a serious matter in those days 
 When the recipient had to pay shillings for the 
 postage, the writers took care to make it worth 
 the sum ! 
 
 So Catherine and her pareiits, with freshly 
 mended quill pens, and large sheets of paper to be 
 crossed and recrossed, settled down to this 
 employment ; while Priscilla, telling Samuel 
 that the fire was an opportunity to dry their 
 blotting papers, fetched her botanical press, 
 and spread them out carefully, while the young 
 man followed her example. 
 
 " It is only making hay," said the girl merrily ; 
 " J do not really care for pressed flowers. I only 
 dry them for my lame cousin, Edwin, who, poor 
 boy, has no greater pleasure than a new plant." 
 
 " Dost thou not wish to keep a record of the 
 plants thou finds ? " said Samuel, rather dis- 
 appointed. 
 
 " Oh, yes, — this is my herbarium," and she 
 opened a large book, on the pages of which were 
 exquisite sketches of wild flowers in all the glory 
 of their natural colours. 
 
 Samuel was enchanted. He had hardly ever 
 seen a botanical illustration, and these looked Hke 
 the flowers themselves. 
 
 " It is very unscientific," said Priscilla, " for 
 I go on painting them just as I find them, without 
 
A BOTANICAL WOOING 177 
 
 classifying. I have two books full already at 
 home, but started a new one for this wonderful 
 journey. I always write where they came from, 
 as well as the English and Latin names ; and the 
 books are as good as a journal, recalling all sorts 
 of pleasant excursions. I must go to work now, 
 for with what I found, and those thou brought 
 me on Seventh day, there are at least a dozen 
 that I want to paint. She seated herself, 
 vnth a tiny china palette, a few dry cakes of 
 paint and camel's hair " pencils," and quite 
 rapidly, the new species blossomed under her 
 clever fingers. 
 
 Presently, the letters being ended, Robert 
 Redford proposed to read aloud. They had with 
 them the " Life of William Wilberforce," 
 intensely interesting to those who had shared 
 in the Anti-Slavery struggles. Samuel, after 
 so many years practice -with, his blind father, 
 was an unusually good reader, and glad to oblige 
 these kind friends, and he read on, hour after 
 hour, while Catherine and her mother sewed, 
 Priscilla painted, and father alternately listened 
 and nodded. 
 
 It was all so homelike, so entirely a new experi- 
 ence, that Samuel felt he was in another world. 
 The easy family talk was fresh to him — the loving 
 pet names, " Kitty, love," or " Pris, my dearie," 
 in such pleasant absence of formality. In all 
 
 12 
 
178 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 his life he had never once been called "Sam " — 
 he wondered if he would ever be ? 
 
 The meals were cheerful, and the hours flew 
 by while the storm raged without. When 
 twilight fell, poetry was suggested. The mother 
 contributed long pieces from Cowper, Catherine 
 from Wordsworth, and PrisciUa added Pringle's 
 spirited ballad " The Neutral Ground," her 
 anti-slavery work having aroused her sympathy 
 v?ith " Brown Dinah, the bondmaid." 
 
 Tuesday morning was still stormy, and another 
 quiet, happy day was spent. PrisciUa had finished 
 her painting, and was now stitching diligently 
 on a frock for a four months' old niece, the child 
 of Catherine's twin sister, whom they hoped to 
 visit at Birkenhead before returning home. 
 
 " Is she thy only grandchild ? " asked Samuel 
 of Rachel Redford. 
 
 " Oh, no, I have a dozen ; we have two sons 
 and two daughters married." 
 
 " Yes," said PrisciUa, " I began my career as 
 a maiden aunt at ten years old." 
 
 " Which means chief playfellow," said her 
 mother, smiling. 
 
 " Now, mother, thou knows I always go when 
 there are measles or mumps. I am a perfect 
 dragon when medicine has to be taken ! And 
 little Tom said, ' When auntie Pris comes to take 
 care of us, she won't stand any nonsense ! ' " 
 
A BOTANICAL WOOING 179 
 
 " Little Tom is a pickle, and has had far too 
 much of his own way. Thou must come and 
 see us at Tottenham, Samuel, and thou wilt 
 probably find the house overrun with children." 
 
 " Thank thee, Rachel Redford, I shall esteem 
 it a privilege. I cannot tell thee what a boon it 
 has been to me to meet such Friends in my lonely 
 wanderings." 
 
 " Then come on with us to Llandudno," said 
 Robert Redford, heartily. " Thou canst share 
 the box seat vdth David, and we can find a corner 
 for thy bag." 
 
 What a chance for Samuel ! If adequate words 
 were hard to find his face made up for deficiencies. 
 The Redfords were glad to do a kindness for one 
 so lonely ; Catherine, who was often bored with 
 her young sister's enthusiasm, was glad she should 
 have an outlet for botanical talk ; and Priscilla 
 was frankly pleased to have a companion who 
 shared her tastes. 
 
 The Wednesday was a day of glorious sunshine, 
 and as they drove by the shore of Llyn Ogwen 
 Samuel spied the pale blue spikes of the water 
 Lobelia, and with the aid of David's driving whip 
 fished out specimens for both. Catherine had 
 great skill in old-fashioned pencil sketching, and 
 while she was intent on an old stone bridge the 
 botanists found a green valley full of magnificent 
 Royal fern, growing with almost tropical 
 
i8o THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 luxuriance. When the seashore was touched there 
 were yet new treasures of sea holly and yellow 
 poppy, until Priscilla could not paint fast enough 
 to portray the fresh beauties. 
 
 Samuel was more like a happy boy than he 
 had ever been in his life, and there was something 
 almost boyish about Priscilla, too, in her perfectly 
 frank friendUness. Robert Redford found the 
 young man well versed in political, philanthropic 
 and business matters, and many were their sober 
 talks ; while to the good niother he was ever 
 respectfully attentive, ready to carry out her 
 slightest wish. 
 
 A fortnight passed, and they reached Chester, 
 where Samuel was to take the cogch southward, 
 and the Redfords were to drive on to their 
 married daughter's home. They wandered about 
 the quaint old streets, and then paused to admire 
 the Cathedral. 
 
 " How I should like to go inside ! " exclaimed 
 Catherine. 
 
 " You may," said her father. " I think 
 Friends have been too afraid of their young 
 people studying these monuments of old Chris- 
 tianity. Samuel, if thou hast no scruples against 
 removing thy hat in a steeple-house, thou canst 
 go with the girls. I should not advise a fracas 
 with the verger over the position of thy beaver. 
 Mother and I will go back to the inn. I am too 
 
A BOTANICAL WOOING i8x 
 
 old to begin hat homage," and the good man's 
 eyes twinkled merrily. 
 
 Samuel had no scruples. He removed his 
 drab beaver as he entered, and all three stood 
 silent and awestruck at the vastness and beauty 
 of the Cathedral interior, the very first building 
 of the kind the young people had seen. They 
 happened to be quite alone, and went round 
 slowly, commenting on fresh beauties in a hushed 
 voice. 
 
 Presently Catherine sat down to sketch a pillar 
 and Priscilla began reading the inscriptions on 
 the numerous wall monuments. 
 
 " Look, Samuel Clough," she said, " this wall 
 is covered with memorials of yoixng men who were 
 either killed in battle or lost in fighting ships. 
 How dreadful ! I never realised before what a 
 loss to the country, as well as to their families, 
 all these well-bred, well-educated young men are. 
 And how they are lauded for this unnatural 
 death ! One would think that instead of a 
 Christian, church we had strayed into a temple to 
 the god Mars ! " 
 
 " I suppose that Friends can hardly enter into 
 the view of the military class," said Samuel, 
 thoughtfully. " And our testimony seems to go 
 for so little. My father spent some months in 
 gaol for refusing to serve in the militia in 
 Napoleon's wars — " 
 
182 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 Here a new sound stole on their ears. The 
 organist had come in, and was beginning some 
 soft, sweet music. Almost breathless they crept 
 back to Catherine, and the three sat entranced 
 until the chimes warned them to return to their 
 inn. 
 
 In the evening Robert Redford proposed a 
 walk. To the girls' surprise, Samuel said he 
 would stay with their mother. When they were 
 left alone he fidgetted about the room, then he sat 
 down by her, and began breathlessly : " Robert 
 Redford and thyself have been so unspeakably 
 good to me that I feel I ought to tell you before 
 I visit at your house that it is your Priscilla that 
 is the chief attraction. I cannot tell thee how 
 dear she has become to me." 
 
 " Thou hast only known her a fortnight," 
 said the mother smiling. 
 
 " Yes, but such a fortnight has shown us more 
 of each other than months of ordinary intercourse. 
 I am a shy, awkward fellow, I know, but she is 
 good to me, and I shall not rest till I try to win 
 her for my Tvife, if I have thy, and her father's 
 consent." 
 
 The mother looked thoughtful. 
 
 " She is so young, Samuel. Far less mature 
 than her sisters were at her age. We are in no 
 hurry to part with our youngest, and it seems 
 hardly fair to ask her to make so great a decision 
 
A BOTANICAL WOOING 183 
 
 until she is more womanly. I hope thou hast 
 not revealed thy feehngs to her ? " 
 
 " No, I am sure she has no idea ; she is so fresh 
 and innocent, so frank and friendly, that I am 
 sure she has not thought of me in that way." 
 
 " Then thou must wait till we all know thee 
 better. Thou seems a well principled young 
 Friend. I was drawn to thee for thy mother's 
 sake, and we have had a pleasant time together, 
 but what dost thou know of PrisciUa's home life ? 
 What does she know of thine ? I think thou must 
 consider how much thou art asking, and whether 
 in thy home she would find her best happiness." 
 
 " I have no home," said Samuel, miserably, 
 " only a duU, empty house." It flashed upon him 
 that it was selfish to think of asking this bright 
 young creature to give up the large and cheerful 
 circle — the parents, brothers and sisters — ^for his 
 solitary, unattractive self ; and to change the 
 society of such as Priscilla Buxton for that of the 
 Hales girls in a dull country town — ^it was 
 intolerably conceited to have thought of such 
 a thing ! 
 
 Rachel Redford's kind heart noted his sudden 
 depression. " Thou also art young," she said 
 " Wait, and seek Divine guidance, and the way 
 will open which is best for you both." 
 
 " I feel the place where I must live has so little 
 to attract her," he said. 
 
1 84 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 " If she cares for thee thyself, thy surroundings 
 are of little moment. Again I counsel thee to 
 wait for some months. Come and see us when 
 thou canst, and do not speak until we give thee 
 leave." 
 
 Samuel's golden castle in the air seemed 
 tumbling about his ears. He was quiet almost 
 to sadness that last evening together, but in 
 the morning cateie a cheer. He was waiting for 
 breakfast in the inn parlour when in tripped 
 Priscilla. " Here is something to remind thee 
 of Freedom Day," she said, and held out a sketch 
 of the saussurea with the neatly printed inscrip- 
 tion : " 1st of 8th month, 1834." He was 
 greatly pleased, and shut it carefully into his 
 botany book with warm thanks, and an hour later 
 he started on his solitary journey to his solitary 
 home. 
 
 How dreary the house looked — all the furniture 
 heavy and duU, great, sombre evergreens blocking 
 the windows, while the old nurse, always a woman 
 of grievances, had a fit of rheumatism, and was 
 dismalness itself. 
 
 Samuel set himself resolutely to work to make 
 the best of the time of waiting. He bought 
 books — such books as the Redfords had spoken 
 of, poetry and good biographies. He remodelled 
 the garden, cutting down overgrown shrubbery, 
 and planting flower beds with his own hands, 
 
A BOTANICAL WOOING 185 
 
 with the secret hope that Priscilla might one day 
 approve. 
 
 When at the end of September he was obliged 
 to go to London on business, he spent most of the 
 previous day scouring the flat country for belated 
 wild flowers. The season favoured him, and a tin 
 box full of treasures was laid before his lady-love. 
 
 The visit was a success, and was repeated several 
 times. Whenever business took him to London 
 he lodged at the Redfords, and shared their 
 interests. Priscilla always met him with the old 
 friendliness, but was still sweetly unconscious of 
 his special interest in herself. Her family saw it 
 plainly enough, but with the innate refinement of 
 the best Quaker circles, they made not the 
 slightest comment. 
 
 When Yearly Meeting came he was again with 
 them, and it was well for a young man to have 
 such a guide as Robert Redford, level-headed and 
 large-hearted, for that Yearly Meeting of 1835 
 was one of the stormiest that has ever troubled 
 the Society, party feeling over doctrine raging to 
 an extent happily rare among Friends, and 
 needing all the wise clerkship of Samuel Tuke to 
 keep the peace. 
 
 Sarah Grubb asked leave to hold a " Youth's 
 Meeting," to which all the young people went, 
 and listened for over an hour to the strange, 
 sibyl-like eloquence of that extraordinary woman. 
 
I86 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 Priscilla drew a long breath as they stood in the 
 fresh twilight air at the gate of Devonshire House 
 waiting for the carriage, and said to Sanauel, " I 
 know it is very naughty of me, for Sarah Grubb is 
 a gifted Friend, but when she speaks I always feel 
 like a cat stroked the wrong way ! Dost thou 
 think anyone was ever scolded into being good ? 
 That meeting of nine people on the Welsh 
 mountain seemed to me a better one than this 
 evening with nine hundred." 
 
 " And thy mother in the place of Sarah Grubb," 
 said Samuel. " I have good cause to remember 
 that meeting. It Was the first in which the cloud 
 of sorrow for my dear father seemed lifted — 
 and," he added in a lower tone, " it was the first 
 meeting I ever shared with thee, and that means 
 more to me than thou knows at present." 
 
 The light was not too dim, or the dove-coloured 
 bonnet too deep to conceal the crimson flush on 
 the sweet face beside him, but at this moment 
 David drew up his horses, as skilful a driver in 
 London trafiic as on mountain roads. During 
 the drive home the conversation was left to 
 Catherine, and her brother George, whose remarks 
 on the sermon they had just heard were far from 
 flattering. 
 
 Priscilla sat silent, glad of the darkness. How 
 often she had taken herself to task for silly vanity 
 when some inkling came to her that she was more 
 
A BOTANICAL WOOING 187 
 
 to Samuel than a sharer in his hobby, but now 
 the tone of those last words was unmistakable. 
 He, also, was silent, seeing that he had startled 
 her, and longing more than ever for her parents' 
 leave to speak. At last, when July came round, he 
 had the much desired permission to make his 
 wishes known. 
 
 Priscilla and her mother were to spend the 
 month at Brighton, with an aunt who was there 
 for her health. Thither Samuel followed them, 
 and was met with tales of botanical triumphs — 
 how some local Friends had taken her to the wild 
 beach at Shoreham, where she had found the 
 Star clover in its only British habitat. 
 
 " I would offer thee a specimen, but I know it 
 is no use," said Priscilla. " Thou must go for it 
 thyself ; but to-day we have a treat for thee. 
 Aunt has an old servant at a farm seven miles 
 away, and near her house grow the most delicious 
 orchises. I know the place, and will show thee — 
 a place to make any botanist rejoice." 
 
 The long drive was pleasant, and near a belt of 
 beech trees at the foot of the Downs the two left 
 the carriage, promising to meet the elder ladies 
 at the farm for tea. 
 
 Triumphantly Priscilla conducted her friend 
 to the edge of the copse, where he found himself 
 surrounded by rare flowers. The taU Cephal- 
 anthera grew as freely as nettles, the Butterfly 
 
i88 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 orchis attracted by its scent, and a few belated 
 specimens of dark brown Fly orchis were still to 
 be found. 
 
 Passing from the trees to the rough pasture 
 above, they found sheets of the long-spurred 
 Conopsea, and here and there the deep crimson 
 buds of the Burnt-tip orchis. Better still, a few 
 minutes climbing brought them to a place where 
 the Bee orchis abounded, the plump, brown 
 velvet bodies in marvellous mimicry of the insqct. 
 Here also were the drooping, coral-like buds and 
 misty cream flowers of the Dropwort, and, best 
 of all, a few early blossoms of the deep blue Round- 
 headed Rampion ! What botanical pair were 
 ever in such a Paradise ? 
 
 " Let us climb to the top," suggested Priscilla, 
 and together they made their way up the steep, 
 slippery grass, until, flushed and breathless, they 
 seated themselves on the soft heather, with the 
 lovely Weald of Sussex spread out like a map 
 before them. 
 
 " I have not had such a climb since I showed 
 thee the way to the Saussurea," said Priscilla, 
 laughing. 
 
 " Thou hast showed me the way to a great 
 many precious things since then — PrisciUa," he 
 went on earnestly. " Art thou willing to climb 
 through life with me, as we have climbed the 
 hiU to-day ? I have loved thee so dearly since 
 
A BOTANICAL WOOING 189 
 
 that first day I saw thee. Wilt thou come and 
 make a home of my dull house, and let us endeavour 
 to serve God unitedly, as I know we both desire 
 to do ? " 
 
 " I will come with all my heart, Samuel," said 
 Priscilla, softly. 
 
 Long they sat side by side, speaking of the past 
 year, and the happy life before them, until 
 Priscilla started. " Oh ! mother will be waiting 
 for us, we must run," she said. 
 
 " Take care, my dear one, this slippery turf is 
 not like Welsh rocks. Take my hand and we will 
 go down together." 
 
 Priscilla stooped to pick up her case of flowers. 
 " I hope, dear Sam, we shall not be unduly 
 absorbed in botany," she said, sweetly. 
 
 A few months later, and what a change was 
 wrought in the dull batchelor parlour. 
 Flowers and books in abundance, a canary singing 
 in the wihdow, an irrepressible kitten frisking by 
 the hearth, muslin curtains framing the view of 
 bright flower beds, pretty china on the cheerful 
 tea table, and, above aU, the happy young wife, 
 who always greeted " dear Sam " by the shortened 
 name he first heard on the South Downs. 
 
 As years went by a little fair-haired Edith 
 would stand up to say her First day verses, and 
 when it happened to be Jane Taylor's " Little 
 Negro Boy," and she lisped : 
 
190 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 " It was on the first of August, eighteen hundred thirty four, 
 We told the poor black people we would serve them so no 
 more : " 
 
 her father would take her on his knee, and tell 
 her how on that day papa and mamma were very 
 happy, as well as the poor slaves, gathering 
 flowers on a Welsh mountain, and show her the 
 framed sketch of the saussurea, which hung near 
 his arm-chair. Nearly a dozen children grew up 
 in that happy home, well-trained, well-educated, 
 fitted to fill useful places in the world ; but, to 
 the parents' surprise, not one of them shows any 
 interest in botany ! 
 
THE GAIN OF OPPRESSION 
 
 Philip Glen came out on to the private wharf 
 which lay between a broad, sluggish river and an 
 immense pile of buildings on which was inscribed 
 " Jonathan Glen and Sons, Brewers and Malt- 
 sters," and paused to watch a group of workmen 
 unloading a barge. 
 
 " Why are you working the crane to-day, 
 Briggs ? I thought Thwaite always did that 
 himself." 
 
 " Thwaite has never turned up to-day, sir — 
 he has not been himself for some days, and I'm 
 afraid he is down ill." 
 
 " Does not his son work here ? " 
 
 " He did, sir, in the bottling department, but 
 he was always a helping his-self beyond his 
 allowance, and when Mr. Joseph found him too 
 boozy to know what he was about for the second 
 time, he gave him the sack." 
 
 " Do you know where Thwaite's home is ? " 
 
 " T'aint much of a home the poor chap has, 
 sir. His missus tastes as well as the lad, and 
 
192 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 they have drifted down to what is called Pint Pot 
 AUey-^that little blind turning opposite St. 
 Chad's Church — ^the last house on the left, it is." 
 
 " I will look in and see Thwaite on my way 
 home," said Philip, turning back to the office. 
 The wharf foreman was rather a favourite 
 employee of his, a silent, efficient man with a 
 North Country accent, and Philip knew that he 
 was a native of Jedderdale, where the freest and 
 happiest times of his own boyhood had been 
 spent. It was a bright April afternoon, and he 
 found his brother had already left for home, so 
 he set out alone on his quest for Thwaite. He 
 had passed that narrow archway between respect- 
 able shops all his life, but h^d never been down 
 the alley, and was horrified at the squalid appear- 
 ance of the houses there, and the ragged children 
 who squabbled among heaps of refuse in a court 
 through which no wholesome blast of fresh, air 
 ever blew. Picking his way to the last house, he 
 asked a frowsy woman, with her arms akimbo, who 
 stood in the door, for Thwaite. She stared at 
 the young men in his neat Quaker suit as at an 
 apparition, but told him the front, room upstairs 
 was the Thwaite's lodging, but she didn't think 
 anyone was at home. 
 
 Upstairs went Philip. The door was not 
 latched, and he was startled to hear a low moan. 
 He pushed it open, and there lay his valued 
 
THE GAIN OF OPPRESSION 193 
 
 servant on a heap of dirty rags on the floor, quite 
 alone, and looking very ill. 
 
 " Why, Thw^aite, man, I am sorry to find you 
 thus. What can I do for you ? " he said kindly. 
 
 " Is that you, Mr. Philip ? " gasped the poor 
 fellow. " Oh, I'm so bad — downright clemmed, 
 and I can't seem to get up to get a bit of victual." 
 
 " Shall I fetch you some brandy f " 
 
 " No, no, sir ! — ^but if I could have a drink of 
 mUk." An empty yellow basin, the only house- 
 hold utensil in the room, stood on the floor beside 
 him. Philip bravely picked it up, and in a few 
 minutes was back vnth milk which he had procured 
 at the shop at one corner of the alley, and a bag 
 of sponge cakes from the other. Poor Thwaite 
 drank thirstily, and slowly ate the soft food, and 
 in a short time was visibly refreshed. 
 
 " How long have you been lying here alone ? " 
 said his master. 
 
 " Since morning, sir. I could not get up to go 
 to vrork, and my poor vnie, she got hold of the 
 money in my pocket when I hadn't the strength 
 to deny her, and oflE she and Ted went together 
 — to the pub, no doubt, and got thoroughly 
 boozed, for they have not been back all day, and 
 oh, dear, I did feel bad ! " 
 
 " I am going to fetch a doctor to you," said 
 Philip, and in a short time he returned with their 
 family doctor, whom he had been fortunate 
 
 13 
 
194 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 enough to meet in the street. After examination 
 he drew PhiHp aside, and told him the nature of the 
 the illness. " It is nothing that could not be 
 nursed in any decent home, but lying there, with 
 no comfort or attention, the man would 
 certainly die. We must get him to the Hospital 
 at once." 
 
 " I wiU go and arrange it," said Philip, and 
 sped away to the hospital, where he was well 
 known, for did not the Glen family give twice 
 as much for its maintenance as any other sub- 
 scriber ? A bed was promised, and with the 
 help of the porter, and a cab — ^for ambulances 
 were not invented in the year 1835 — '^^^ poor sick 
 man was transported to the Institution, and 
 Philip did not leave him until he was in a good 
 bed under the care of a kind, elderly nurse. 
 
 Meanwhile PhiHp's absence was causing some 
 disquietude in his home. In the dining-room 
 of a large, solid house, surrounded by fine gardens 
 on the outskirts of the town, sat his mother, 
 Eliza Glen, a tall, stout woman of sixty, in the 
 very primmest Quaker garb of the day. The 
 forehead was narrow, the mouth rather sour, and, 
 unfortunately for her two sons, her mind ran 
 in the narrowest of grooves. She had married 
 rather late in life and had lost her husband just 
 after he had added the " and Sons " to the name 
 of the flourishing brewery, where for many years 
 
THE GAIN OF OPPRESSION 195 
 
 he had prided himself on the production of 
 " good Quaker ale with the hat on." 
 
 A very lucrative business it was, and the house 
 showed every sign of wealth, although Eliza 
 Glen fondly imagined it was a model of Quaker 
 simplicity. The pictureless walls were painted 
 drab, the chairs were covered with black horse- 
 hair, but the drab curtains were of the costliest 
 damask, and the heavy furniture of solid mahogany 
 highly poUshed. The thick Turkey carpet was 
 of brighter tints, but that was only because drab 
 Turkey carpets were unprocurable. Every article 
 of china in the house was of plain white, imrelieved 
 by a touch of colour or of gilding, but it was of 
 the best quality, and specially made at a china 
 factory for this household. 
 
 Here the simplicity of the tea-table ended, for 
 the glossy, double-damask cloth was of exquisite 
 texture, the tea pot and spoons of the heaviest 
 silver, and the mistress prided herself on the 
 quality of the provisions. Such home-made 
 pound cakes, compounded of the freshest of 
 butter and eggs, and the whitest of sugar, such 
 muffins and tea cakes, such preserves and golden 
 honeycomb, and tea at ten shillings a pound 
 awaited the hissing urn in a tortoisheU caddy — 
 everything was of the very best that money could 
 buy. 
 
 The dress of the mistress was in the same style 
 
196 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 as her furniture, a flowing robe of the richest 
 Irish poplin, dingy brown in colour, and a white 
 China crape shawl, from which the fringe had 
 been renaoved, giving place to a plain hem. 
 Hemmed shawls, and a tunnel shaped bonnet with 
 no curtain, were the good lady'? idea of Quaker 
 consistency, and were rigidly adhered to. 
 
 As she sat awaiting her sons her fingers were 
 busily employed in knitting, for she prided herself 
 on her industry, and would speak disparagingly 
 of Mary Travis allowing her girls to " idle over 
 books and drawing." Eliza Glen's knitting was 
 of one unfailing kind — ^fine squares of elaborate 
 patterns in white cotton, which, sewn together, 
 formed large quilts, with which every bed in the 
 house was abundantly supplied, but still she 
 knitted on in comfortable self-complacency. 
 
 She had drilled her sons to strict punctuality, 
 and Joseph came in dutifully at the moment 
 that the grey-haired man-servant brought in the 
 urn, into which he had just dropped a large 
 red-hot weight from the kitchen fire. The 
 boiling up of the water from this process was of 
 short duration, so the tea was made at once, the 
 mistress fretting the while at Philip's non- 
 appearance. Joseph could only say he had left 
 the office with an errand for the wharf, and had 
 not returned. The tea could not wait, so mother 
 and son sat down to the table and the good things 
 
THE GAIN OF OPPRESSION 197 
 
 were dispensed, while the flood of fretful prattle 
 went on about the sin of unpunctuality. 
 
 Still Philip did not come — a thing which had 
 happened a few times in his boyhood, when he 
 had been punished by missing his meal, and at the 
 age of twenty-four the same fate awaited him, 
 for when six o'clock struck, " the servants would 
 want to wash up," and the table was cleared. 
 
 It was half-past seven when Philip came in. 
 The mother looked up from her knitting. 
 " Philip, I am astonished at thy conduct. Thou 
 knows that punctuality at meals was what thy 
 father always required. Thou might have told 
 me at dinner thou expected to be late." 
 
 " I am sorry, mother, but I did not know then. 
 It was a very urgent and unexpected duty that 
 kept me," and he went on to describe the pitiful 
 plight of poor Thwaite. 
 
 But he got no sympathy. That he should 
 have been in such a low place, and in possible 
 infection horrified his mother. He ought to 
 have sent someone else to see after the sick man ; 
 " and thou hast missed thy tea, too. I could not 
 have it kept in till this time, as thou very well 
 knows." 
 
 " Oh, never mind, I will make it up at supper," 
 and Philip passed out into the garden to find his 
 brother. The garden was Joseph's pet hobby. 
 He was found under a south wall, tenderly 
 
198 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 examining the buds on the beautifully trained 
 peach trees. 
 
 He listened to his brother's tale with rather 
 more sympathy, for he knew the value of Thwaite, 
 and was astonished to hear that a man drawing 
 so good a weekly wage could have such a wretched 
 home. 
 
 " It is all the fault of his miserable wife and 
 son — ^how strange it is that they cannot take their 
 beer in moderation, it shows such sad self- 
 indulgence," said Philip. " But I hope my 
 going as I did may save the poor fellow's life, 
 and we may be able to help him to better things." 
 
 " A hopeless task," said Joseph, drily, " when 
 these low people become drunkards they are 
 impossible to reclaim — ^women especially — they 
 are too weak to drink moderately," and he dropped 
 the subject by walking off to the glass house, 
 where melons and cucumbers flourished in 
 tropical heat. 
 
 At nine o'clock the table was again sumptu- 
 ously spread, with cold chicken, ham, fruit tarts, 
 cream, and other luxuries, and, of course, 
 decanters with several kinds of wine. 
 
 Philip ate with the appetite of healthy youth 
 after a long fast. His mother still fretted about 
 the possibility of infection, and at her earnest 
 desire Philip drank an extra glass of port to ward 
 it off. He drank it as a matter of course, as he 
 
THE GAIN OF OPPRESSION 199 
 
 had always done, little thinking that it was the 
 last wine that would ever pass his lips. 
 
 At a quarter to ten the bell was rung for 
 reading. The mistress sat at the head of the 
 table with a large Bible before her, lighted by 
 wax candles in massive sUver sticks. In filed 
 the old butler, the fat cook, and four or five 
 younger maids, and sat down in a row near the 
 door. 
 
 It was Eliza Glen's habit thus to assemble her 
 household twice daily. In the morning she read 
 straight on in the Old Testament, in the evening 
 in the New. At the last verse of each chapter, 
 she resolutely closed her eyes and sat in absolute 
 silence for eight or ten minutes. The old butler 
 might nod, the little kitchen-maid fidget, but 
 that unbroken silence was always the same, and 
 even the well-trained sons often found it oppres- 
 ively long. 
 
 But to-night for Philip the silence was filled 
 with a tumult of new feelings. The chapter 
 read had been the fourteenth of Romans. In the 
 early part his mind had wandered to the scene of 
 human misery, which had so deeply stirred his 
 kindly heart, but his ears were startled by the 
 verse which he had never noticed before : " It 
 is good neither to eat flesh nor to drink wine, 
 nor anything whereby thy brother stumbleth, 
 or is offended, or is made weak." 
 
200 THE TIME OE HER LIFE 
 
 Had npt Thwaite's wife and son stumbled 
 grievously in neglecting the worthy husband and 
 father in his weakness ? And he, PhiHp Glen, 
 whose earnest desire it was to serve his fellows 
 as a Christian should, still drank wine ! Could it 
 be " good " to do so ? He had been brought up 
 to think it a daily necessity, but he had heard 
 lately of certain Friends who had given it up, 
 and actually seemed to keep in robust health ! 
 He knew that he relished it, and would miss the 
 stimulant, but was it right to take all the good 
 things of life while others suffered so sorely f He 
 looked round his bedroom, at the Brussels carpet, 
 the four post bed, with ample damask curtains, 
 soft feather bed, and sheets of finest, lavender- 
 scented linen, and contrasted it with the heap of 
 dingy rags which was the only resting place of the 
 Thwaite family. Philip was of a sensitive spirit, 
 and there was little rest for him in the four-poster 
 that night. He had re-read the chapter in 
 Romans when he came upstairs, and over and 
 over came the searching words of the concluding 
 verse : " Whatsoever is not of faith is sin." 
 
 He was very silent at the breakfast table next 
 morning, and left the house early, in order to 
 enquire for Thwaite before going to business. He 
 found him mending, and speaking most warmly of 
 the comforts and the kindness of the hospital- 
 two things to which he had long been a stranger. 
 
THE GAIN OF OPPRESSION 20* 
 
 " But will you do me one more good turn, 
 Mr. Philip ? " he said. " My poor missus — I 
 can't get her off my mind. My wages are due 
 to-morrow, could you pay the landlady as lives 
 below the week's rent in advance, and ask her 
 to send in a loaf, and a bit of cheese, or something 
 every day, so that I may know they have a roof 
 over them, and don't go hungry f She is a 
 rough one, but she has a kind heart. It is no use 
 giving the money to Alice, for it would aU go in 
 gin — every penny that she and Ted earn by odd 
 jobs is spent on drink." 
 
 " How did she learn this bad habit ? " 
 " Ah, sir, it was aU my fault, bringing her away 
 from Jedderdale — the more fool I. I was 
 ambitious, and wages were low there, and when 
 my cousin, Mrs. Dench, who is landlady of the 
 * Spotted Dog ' in this town, came to the old 
 place, she told me of high wages, and chances in 
 the town. I thought it would be better for my 
 boy, so puUed up sticks and came. But my Alice 
 never took root here ; she missed her garden, 
 and the beasties — we always had a couple of 
 pigs, and bees, and a fine flock of geese on 
 the common. She used to go fretting to Mrs. 
 Dench, who told her there was nothing like a 
 drop of gin for low spirits, and so it has gone 
 on. The boy got sickly too, and she gave 
 him ale to set him up, but it pulled him 
 
20Z THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 down instead, and now at nineteen he is a 
 mere drunken sot." 
 
 " Could not you take them back to the 
 country f " 
 
 " I fear it is too late, sir. I seem to have lost 
 all hope. This illness has been coming on a 
 long time and I felt I should soon be out of my 
 misery." 
 
 " But better times may be in store for you, 
 Thwaite. Take heart, man, and I will do what 
 I can to help you." 
 
 Philip went on to Pint Pot Alley, and after 
 bargaining with the rough landlady to provide 
 food and shelter, he made his way upstairs, and 
 found Mrs. Thwaite and her son but just aroused 
 from their drunken sleep ; sober now, and 
 much bewildered as to what had become of 
 the husband. 
 
 PhiUp spoke sternly and strongly, telling the 
 wife how the doctor had said the man would 
 certainly have died from neglect, and soon poor 
 Alice was in an agony of remorse, ready to promise 
 anything if she might see her husband. He told 
 her that afternoon if she went sober and decent 
 to the hospital, she would be allowed to see him, 
 and then hastened away to the brewery, going 
 through his usual share of the work there almost 
 mechanically. When the brothers went home 
 to the early dinner, Philip followed old James into 
 
THE GAIN OP OPPRESSION 203 
 
 his pantry with a request that a glass of water 
 should be set for him. 
 
 The old butler gazed at him with horror. 
 " You ain't never going to upset your inside with 
 that cold stuff, Master PhiHp ? " 
 
 " It is no colder than the ale, James," said 
 Philip, laughing. 
 
 " But water, sir, — such poor stuff. Let me 
 get you out the claret if you don't fancy ale 
 to-day." 
 
 " No, James, I've made up my mind to drink 
 water at dinner and supper for the present, so 
 say no more about it." 
 
 " Eh, but the missus wiU be main vexed." 
 
 Philip knew too well that she would, and she 
 began immediately. 
 
 " My dear Philip ! What art thou drinking ? 
 Water ! Dost not thou fancy the ale we are 
 using just now ? " 
 
 " The ale is all right, mother," said Joseph, 
 scientifically frothing his tumbler full, with a 
 contemptuous glance at his brother's beverage, 
 for he had heard of these new-fangled notions 
 of abstinence, and thought PhiUp weakly infected 
 by them. 
 
 " I mean to try drinking water for a change," 
 said Philip, trying to speak cheerfully. 
 
 " But thou really needs the nourishment, 
 Philip. Remember thou wast a very deUcate 
 
«64 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 baby, and I have always been anxious about thy 
 health." 
 
 " I've had nothing the matter with me 
 but measles and mumps in the last twenty 
 years, mother ; and as for nourishment — ^look 
 at this great plate of sirloin and Yorjtshire 
 pudding ! " 
 
 " It is dangerous to give up such things 
 suddenly. Take just half a glass of ale. I shall 
 be really distressed if thou dost not — thou wilt 
 certainly suffer from indigestion." 
 
 " When I cannot digest good food without 
 ale I will take it ; but for the present I mean to 
 try water." 
 
 Poor Eliza Glen ! She felt that her son was 
 getting beyond her influence. In her narrow 
 life the daily meals were matters of great import- 
 ance — solemn rites, not to be lightly disturbed, 
 and both she and Joseph hated innovations of 
 all kinds. 
 
 When supper time came, and the wine was 
 quietly refused, she was almost in tears. It was 
 rejecting a good creature of God, it was disrespect 
 to his father's memory, who never let a day pass 
 without taking a suitable quantity of ale and wine. 
 He would certainly ruin his health ! 
 
 Philip told her very gently that he was old 
 enough to decide on matters of diet for himself, 
 and he chose to drink water, it might be only for 
 
THE GAIN OF OPPRESSION 205 
 
 a time ; and then took refuge in silence while 
 the flood of feeble remonstrance went on. He: 
 had only got as far as personal abstinence as yet, 
 but day by day his eyes were opened to the 
 effects of drinking habits, and he began to wonder 
 how he could have been so blind. It was not 
 only the Thwaites, but he seemed to be constantly 
 coming across drink-wrecked lives. There was 
 a school-fellow of his own who had been a bright, 
 jovial lad, and that week he was before the 
 magistrate for being drunk and fighting at a 
 low fair. Philip had noted that Tom Evans was 
 going down hill, but only now realised that his 
 love of drihk was the cause. 
 
 He began seriously to doubt if he could go on 
 in the brewery. That his sons might prefer some 
 other calling had never occurred to Jonathan 
 Glen. There was wealth enough for both in the 
 old business, and as soon as the boys left school 
 they were placed in the office as a matter of 
 course. 
 
 Philip did not wish to inconvenience his 
 brother, and his convictions were so new that 
 he felt it was right to wait awhile. It was a 
 relief to him when he had to go to a northern 
 town about a large consignment of barley. The 
 home meals at which intoxicants were served had 
 become a daily penance, for never one passed 
 without his mother renewing her lamentations 
 
2o6 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 over his obstinacy, and making him feel a culprit. 
 He arranged, when he was in the north, to go on 
 for a few days to Jedderdale to visit his well-loved 
 cousins Josiah and Frances Barnes, a household 
 which always helped and soothed a troubled 
 spirit. It was some time since he had been there, 
 and to his surprise and relief he found these good 
 people drinking water, although a jug of beer had 
 been provided for him. It was a great strength 
 and comfort to be able, for the first time, to 
 discuss his new views with sympathetic listeners, 
 and some long, solitary walks on the wild, free 
 moors were just what he needed. 
 
 Daily he felt a stronger conviction that more 
 than personal abstinence was required of him 
 even a complete revolution in his calling and hfe. 
 How could it be managed with the least friction 
 with his mother and Joseph ? And to Philip 
 there was also another question — ^What would 
 Junia Travis think ? For a long time past bright 
 visions had come to the young man of a home 
 with a very different mistress to his ponderous, 
 fretful mother, and his affections were set on the 
 youngest daughter of David Travis, a leading 
 Friend in their Meeting, who, with his sons, 
 managed the largest woollen mill in the town. 
 His wife was a genial, helpful woman, and the 
 three daughters bright, energetic girls, Anna, 
 Phoebe and Junia. As they sat together in 
 
THE GAIN OF OPPRESSION 207 
 
 meeting in their Friends' bonnets, and silk shawls, 
 few observers could distinguish the sisters apart, 
 but Philip knew by the quicker movements, the 
 turn of the graceful neck, and by a certain 
 rebellious little curl of light brown hair which 
 was apt to stray beneath the bonnet curtain, 
 which was the woman on whom his hopes were 
 set. He had hoped to speak, and win her before 
 long, but with his way to make in some new 
 business, what would her father say ? Junia, he 
 believed, would respect anyone who followed his 
 convictions of duty, but to a large proportion of 
 Friends of that day the total abstinence move- 
 ment was singularly distasteful, so many confort- 
 able fortunes had been made by brewing, and 
 in the wine trade ; and stimulants were considered 
 a necessary part of hospitality. 
 
 Philip's visit to Jedderdale had not been only 
 for his own pleasure. He consulted his cousins 
 about the Thwaites, and found that Alice's old 
 mother was living alone in a fair-sized cottage. 
 He called on her and told her the whole story. 
 She had hardly heard of her daughter for ten 
 years, for none of the family could write, and the 
 cost of postage was prohibitive. He found her 
 not only willing, but eager to welcome back her 
 daughter, and help her to health and happiness 
 where no one knew her sad tale, and where 
 temptation would be less. Cousin Josiah offered 
 
20$ THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 to employ both Thwaite and his son, and Philip 
 hoped to be able to send them all, when the man 
 came out of hospital. 
 
 He found, on his return, that things were going 
 fairly. The shock had somewhat sobered Alice, 
 and she had found work as a temporary scrubber 
 in the hospital. Her husband might be fit to 
 travel in a fortnight, and great was their joy at 
 the prospect of a new start in their native place. 
 But none of the three had any garments warm 
 enough for the long coach ride in spring, a matter 
 about which Philip felt quite at a loss. Money 
 he could give, but Alice was not to be trusted 
 to lay it out suitably. To his mother it was 
 quite useless to apply — she would know, and care 
 nothing for the practical needs of the poverty 
 stricken. He thought of Mary Travis, and called 
 to explain his wants. To his delight Junia was 
 sitting with her mother, painting a spray of 
 apple-bdossom, and listened with real interest to 
 his tale of the Thwaites. 
 
 " I might give the men some old things of my 
 own, but we could not send them to Jedderdale 
 in Friends' coats. I often feel they are useless^ 
 but it would break my mother's heart to see me 
 in anything else." 
 
 " No, what they need is some strong work- 
 man's clothes. I have an old servant, Ann Dyer, 
 who is an excellent manager. I know that she 
 
THE GAIN OF OPPRESSION 209 
 
 buys second-hand coats for her husband, we will 
 consult her. I expect you girls have shirts in 
 your charity drawer, have you not, Junia ? And 
 underclothing for the woman ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, mother — ^plenty — and it is nice to 
 be able to supply such a real need." 
 
 " I have an old, dark woollen gown I could give 
 her, and she would need a warm shawl, and a 
 neat bonnet. But if thou likes to entrust it to 
 me, I will see Ann Dyer, and thou canst come and 
 hear results." 
 
 When Philip called Again, he found all diffi- 
 culties overcome. Ann Dyer could take the 
 Thwaites into her own cottage for the last night, 
 and had provided decent clothing for aU for what 
 seemed to Philip a very small sum. He ■^ent 
 himself in the grey dawn to see them start, and 
 was astonished to see what a decent looking party 
 they were. Kind Mary Travis had sent a nice 
 basket of provisions for the journey, and with 
 fervent thanks to Philip they rnount'ed the coach 
 and were gone. 
 
 This iiappy ending to his cares for the Thwaites 
 was a cheer to Philip as he prepared to make the 
 change that his conscience required in his mode 
 of life. Slowly and carefuUy he thought out 
 his plans. He could not go on drawing a large 
 income from what he had come to see was a 
 curse to the community, but he felt he might 
 
 14 
 
210 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 withdraw a moderate aipount of capital to set 
 himself up in some new line of business. 
 
 It was not easy to face Joseph's contempt, but 
 he was a just man, and perhaps at the bottom 
 not unwilling to be free from a partner so apt 
 to take up new notions as his brother Philip. 
 The mother's reproaches were harder to bear — 
 the presumption of her son rejecting a trade on 
 which his father had grown rich, was a bitter cross 
 to her, and she was backed up hy her brother, 
 uncle Jenkins, who solemnly upbraided Philip 
 for pride, ingratitude, disobedience to parents, 
 and many other crimes. 
 
 The young man took it all with quiet sted- 
 fastness. He was anxious to make no breach 
 with his mother and brother. The sons had been 
 in the habit of escorting her to Yearly Meeting 
 on alternate years. It was Philip's turn in 1835, 
 and he was glad to find that she still expected him 
 to accompany her ; and with uncle and aunt 
 Jenkins they set out on the fifty mile drive in 
 Eliza Glen's own large carriage, taking two long 
 days for the journey, during which Philip took 
 pains to be especially attentive and helpful. 
 
 Arrived at Devonshire House he soon found 
 that since he had been at Yearly Meeting two 
 years before there had been a stirring of the 
 conscience of many Friends about the use of 
 alcoholic drink. He overheard someone say in 
 
THE GAIN OF OPPRESSION 211 
 
 the yard that his school-fellow, Thomas Harvey, 
 who had signed the pledge at Birmingham four 
 years before, was actually improved in health 
 since he became an abstainer. He found out 
 that there had been, for six years, a gathering 
 held in some outside room of Friends interested 
 in the Temperance question, and that it was 
 already supported by some of the most honoured 
 members. But with the majority of Friends the 
 whole subject was most distasteful. One day 
 Eliza Glen and her sister Jenkins came out of the 
 Wom.en's Meeting ruffling their plumage Uke 
 insulted swans. " Tabitha Eayley had actually 
 spoken in the most unseemly way about her new 
 fancy for going without beer and wine — she had 
 even suggested that it was not consistent for 
 Friends to manufacture and sell them, and the 
 new Clerk, Katherine Backhouse, had actually 
 allowed her to speak for some time without 
 checking her, which would have been the only 
 suitable thing to do. Just when women Friends 
 were so interested at Martha Yeardley's account 
 of the satisfactory state of female education in 
 Greece, it was a most trying thing to have their 
 minds disturbed — she felt the whole morning's 
 sitting had been spoilt by Tabitha's presumption." 
 This was said, not to Philip, but at him, as 
 they drove to their inn at some distance from 
 Devonshire House, in company with several 
 
212 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 guests who were going to share their dinner, 
 and who, Phihp felt, would notice his abstinence 
 the more for his mother's indignation. 
 
 It was not only the Women's Meeting which 
 was disturbed. In the Men's, Elihu Burne, an 
 American, a simple-minded, earnest man, spoke 
 most fervently of the evils of drink and of the 
 privilege of self-denial to help to remove them. 
 To him to see a right way was to follow it, and 
 he little understood the power of the large 
 fortunes which had been so easily made by 
 brewing, and malting, and also the dislike of 
 having personal habits and tastes disturbed. 
 
 The Clerk felt the uneasiness all around him, 
 and requested the American to shorten his 
 remarks, and even those who agreed with him felt 
 it useless to follow up the subject at that time. 
 
 After the sitting was over, and Friends were 
 standing in the yard, a portly Elder who had made 
 a large fortune by importing wine, came up to 
 Elihu Burne, shaking a fat finger impressively : 
 
 " I must tell thee, Friend Burne, that many 
 present this morning felt thy communication 
 was prompted by the enemy of mankind. I would 
 have thee to know that such subjects are con- 
 sidered most unseemly to speak of in London 
 Yearly Meeting. It must not occur again." 
 
 The American made no answer. He had 
 already been invited to a meeting of sympathisers, 
 
THE GAIN OF OPPRESSION 213 
 
 to be held at the London Tavern that evening, 
 and bided his time. 
 
 But Philip Glen's soul had been deeply stirred 
 by Elihu's appeal, and several Friends sitting 
 near him had noticed the kindling interest on 
 the face of the young brewer, and the tears in 
 his honest blue eyes when the sin and sorrow 
 caused by drink was dwelt upon, and some of 
 them asked him to take an evening meal with 
 them, and attend the Temperance meeting after 
 it, which Philip was glad to accept. 
 
 He told his mother he was invited to sup with 
 Joseph Sturge and Robert Charleton — names so 
 highly respected in the Society that no exception 
 could be taken. Perhaps, if Eliza Glen had 
 known that Joseph Sturge and his brothers had 
 lately given up their very profitable trade in 
 malting barley, she would not have felt him so 
 safe a companion for Philip ! 
 
 The Meeting was of thrilling interest to the 
 young man, to whom it was quite new to hear 
 the subject publicly discussed in a way that 
 chimed in with aU he had felt, and thought out 
 alone since the day when his conscience had been 
 stirred by poor Thwaite's plight, and the searching 
 verse at evening reading. 
 
 Not only Elihu Buriie spoke, but James Back- 
 house, Thomas Pumphrey, Josiah Newman, and 
 other men of great weight in the Society, and 
 
214 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 best of all was the convincing eloquence of Samuel 
 Bowly, of Gloucester, then a man in the prime of 
 life. He had but lately signed the total abstin 
 ence pledge, under the influence of Richard 
 Barrett, and was throwing himself into the cause 
 with all the splendid ability which made him such 
 a power for good for many long years. He knew 
 Philip slightly, and as they came out of the meeting 
 he proposed that they should walk westward 
 together. It was a warm May night, with a full 
 moon, and Samuel Bowly said, " Now, Philip 
 Glen, we will not take the shortest way, for I 
 want thee to see for thyself that we have reason 
 in all we have been saying against the drink 
 to-night." 
 
 So he led the way through side lanes into 
 by-ways, where the glaring gin-places were full 
 of drinkers ; where women, with sodden faces, 
 and wild eyes, many with wailing infants in their 
 arms, were swallowing the poison ; where men 
 cursed, and fought, and rolled in the gutter, for 
 London was but scantily policed in 1835, and the 
 evils went on unchecked. Philip watched with a 
 sense of horrible fascination. It was from the 
 profits of such a trade as this that his luxurious 
 home was maintained ! Sam.uel Bowly said few 
 words, for he saw the object lesson was sinking in 
 deeply, and he left Philip at his inn with a hearty 
 handshake. 
 
THE GAIN OF OPPRESSION 215 
 
 Next morning Philip sought him out at Devon-r 
 shire House. " Samuel Bowly," he said, " I feel 
 I can no longer hesitate. I must get free from a 
 trade which brings such evils as we saw last night. 
 I will sign the pledge as soon as I have an 
 opportunity." 
 
 " And that is now" said Samuel Bowly, 
 smiUng, and from his pocket came a pledge-book, 
 and a little leather case containing a tiny ink- 
 stand, and a short quill pen, and then and 
 there, on a seat in the yard, the name of PhiHp 
 Glen was affixed to the promise to taste no 
 more of the drink " Whereby his brother 
 stumbled." 
 
 He told Joseph on his return home that his 
 mind was irrevocably made up to leave the brewery 
 as soon as it could be arranged, and he set about 
 the search for another calling with characteristic 
 energy. He had always had a taste for botany, 
 and a delight in growing plants ; and he heard of 
 an elderly Friend, about twenty miles away, who 
 wished to relinquish a business of seed growing 
 and dealing. Here Philip established himself, 
 and threw such real ability and enterprise into 
 his new calling that its success was soon assured. 
 He was well-known and liked on the corn markets 
 and farmers soon came to him for reliable seeds 
 of beans, vetches, and turnips. He made a journey 
 to Holland and imported seeds of fresh and 
 
2i6 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 superior vegetables, and on his own small farm 
 made many experiments which turned out 
 excellently. In the farmhouse he lived, with a 
 simplicity which horrified his mother when she 
 made the supreme effort of driving twenty miles 
 to see him ; but the frugal fare and outdoor life 
 suited him adipirably, combined with peace at 
 meals, and a good conscience. 
 
 He seldom saw Junia during the first year and 
 a half, but now and then at Quarterly Meeting 
 he was met with marked friendliness, both by her 
 and her mother. They evidently did not feel 
 his action so quixotic and foolish as his own 
 relations did. 
 
 At length, in the second autumn after the 
 change, Philip ^elt that his new calling showed 
 such a promise of modest success, that he ventured 
 to call on David Travis and ask leave to seek the 
 hand of Junia. 
 
 As he expected, the father demurred. " I 
 have always had a liking for thee, Philip, but I 
 feel in giving up thy father's trade thou hast been 
 misled by enthusiasm — and enthusiasm is a very 
 dangerous thing in a young ijian, I can tell thee ! 
 Then I should not like a daughter of mine to be 
 left a young widow, and it is a serious thing to 
 give up the support of the ale and wine to which 
 thou hast always been accustomed. It may 
 undermine thy health yet." 
 
THE GAIN OF OPPRESSION 217 
 
 "rDo'I looFasif my health ha§ suffered by my 
 two years' abstinence ? " 
 
 David Travis looked Philip over critically, and 
 saw a, perfect picture of stalwart, ruddy, sun- 
 tanned manhood. 
 
 " No — o," he said, reluctantly. " I must say 
 that thou looks well, but no Life Insurance 
 Society would take a teetotaler without an extra 
 premium, as they are considered such unsafe 
 lives. And look thee here, PhiUp, if I allow thee 
 to speak to my Junia, I must have thy solemn 
 promise not to attempt to influence her to adopt 
 thy new-fangled ways. Women folk are not as 
 strong as men, and she might fade away without 
 the support of her pale ale and wine. Anyway, 
 thou canst not speak to her at present, for she is 
 going to stay with her uncle Jonathan, at Wake- 
 field, for a month, and then we are expecting a 
 visit from our young kinsman, young Thomas 
 Wai^ingham, from Belfast," and the old man 
 chuckled in a way which dismayed Philip, for he 
 knew this was a wealthy young Friend, a distiller 
 of spirits on, a large scale, who had seen much of 
 the Travis girls a year or two ago — and who 
 would look at Anna or Phoebe when Junia was 
 by ? It was vsdth an anxious heart that Philip 
 took leave and returned to his seed farm. 
 
 He would have been reassured had he over- 
 heard Junia's first talk with her sisters on her 
 
2i8 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 return from Wakefield. She was full of enthusi- 
 astic admiration of the wonderful Irish priest, 
 Father Theobald Mathew, who had been holding 
 a mission there. " He gave the pledge to 
 thousands, and I took it too." 
 
 " Junia ! Thou didst not ! " said Anna, 
 scandalised. " To go and kneel in public 
 before a Romish priest, and take his medal, and 
 make a public promise, as if thou hadst been in 
 the habit of taking too much." 
 
 " Oh, no ; I did not quite do that ! He came 
 to dinner at uncle Jonathan's, and talked so 
 beautifully about the influence of young ladies, 
 that Bessie and Emma said they would take the 
 pledge, and as I am of age, I determined to do it 
 also. We repeated the words after him as we 
 sat on the sofa, and then he touched each of our 
 heads and said so solemnly, ' God bless you, my 
 dear child, and give you strength to keep it.' 
 I hope father and mother wiU not mind, for I 
 really felt a strong concern to be an abstainer, 
 and give up wine for the sake of e?:ample. 
 Just think if I can prevent some poor woman 
 from falling so low as that miserable Alice 
 Thwaites." 
 
 " But thou wilt feel the need of the 
 wine." 
 
 " I think not. I have never cared for it, and 
 often if water was on the table I took it in 
 
THE GAIN OF OPPRESSION 219 
 
 preference. No — I cannot flatter myself there 
 is any self-denial in my taking the pledge." 
 
 Junia frankly told her parents what she had 
 done. Her father said she was a siUy child to be 
 over persuaded by that wind-bag of an Irish 
 priest. Her mother said httle, for she respected 
 personal convictions, but she felt anxious about 
 Junia, for, like Eliza Glen, she had been brought 
 up to look upon stimulants as essential to good 
 health. 
 
 A few weeks after this Philip was riding home 
 to spend First day with his mother, when he 
 overtook a riding party, Anna and Junia Travis, 
 and their distant cousin Thomas Walsingham 
 who had been to visit an interesting old castle. 
 He was cordially greeted, and introduced to the 
 stranger, and they rode on together, cantering, 
 all four abreast, over a wide, open common. 
 
 It was only my Lord Paramount's daughters 
 who wore the picturesque riding hats with long, 
 streaming feathers — middle-class girls always rode 
 in bonnets. Anna kept to a Friends' bonnet of 
 moderate size, but Junia had indulged in a close, 
 cottage bonnet of brown straw to match her 
 flowing habit. The velvet binding set off her 
 fair hair, and blooming cheeks, and with her 
 graceful figure so perfectly at home on her strong 
 bay horse, she had never looked more charming 
 in Philip's eyes. 
 
Z20 THE TIME OF|HER LIFE 
 
 They passed off the common into a narrow 
 lane, under beech trees, golden in the autumn 
 sunlight. Here Junia purposely reined back her 
 horse, so that Anna took the lead with their 
 guest, who glanced back ruefully. Poor Thomas 
 was not having a happy visit. Junia took a 
 naughty delight in praising Father Mathew, whom 
 an Irish distiller naturally looked upon as an 
 insidious enemy ; and also in bringing into 
 prominence her resolve to drink nothing but 
 water, until Thomas had made up his mind to 
 leave on Monday without putting himself into 
 the humiliating position of a rejected lover. It 
 would never do for him to have a wife infected 
 with these strange new doctrines. He was a 
 self-complacent youth, and felt in his pique 
 there were plenty of other young women Friends 
 who would not despise his wealth as Junia appeared 
 to do. 
 
 She now began to speak eagerly to Philip. " I 
 have so wanted to ask thee if thou hast heard of 
 the Thwaites ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes. Cousin Frances wrote me a very good 
 account. The poor wife seems quite to have 
 recovered in the old country life. The son is 
 rather an idle lout, but the father is very patient 
 with him, and he has improved of late." 
 
 " That is good. Their story made me think 
 as I never did before of the evil effects of drink. 
 
THE GAIN OF OPPRESSION 221 
 
 When I was at Wakefield I took Father Mathew's 
 pledge with my cousins. It is strange how blind 
 we have been before ! It seems to me now that 
 no true Christian could go on making what does 
 so much harm. I am so glad that thou hast 
 given it up." 
 
 Happy Philip ! With such sentiments as these 
 from the damsel of his choice he had little to fear 
 from her father's opposition. He felt he had 
 not yet leave to speak plainly, but that was a 
 very blissful ride, and in meeting next morning, 
 sitting behind that special grey bonnet, he thanked 
 God for the gift which is far above rubies. 
 
 Before the week was out Junia was his promised 
 wife, declaring that she was glad she was to share 
 an active country life, and nor to be stifled by 
 luxury. 
 
 The farmhouse became a very happy home, 
 although Eliza Glen would shake her head and 
 speak of her younger son and his wife as being 
 " half-starved," which meant that they drove a 
 gig instead of a carriage and pair, and that no 
 stimulants figured at their simple, but abundant 
 meals. Their little unconventionaUties also dis- 
 tressed her. When Junia, in the flush of happy 
 young motherhood, would drive over with her 
 baby boy, bringing no nurse, she was scandalised, 
 and when Philip himself shouldered that young 
 hero and carried him from the house of one 
 
222 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 adoring grandmother to the other, she felt it an 
 absolute disgrace to the family ; and could only 
 say in excuse to her cronies, " Thou knows my 
 dear husband's mother was a Parley, and I fear 
 my poor son Philip must take after her, for the 
 Parley family are so very peculiar ! " 
 
CREATURELY ACTIVITY 
 
 1863 
 
 " Clank, clank, clank," clattered the old- 
 fashioned treadle sewing machine, with a noise 
 which would be considered intolerable nowa- 
 days, but was little heeded by Miriam Vincent, 
 the mother of eight children who were always 
 wearing out their clothes. The wonderful new 
 invention had been sent to her by a London 
 brother the Christmas before, and the speed with 
 which it was now turning out shirts for her boy 
 at Ackworth was a great relief to her busy fingers. 
 
 " Mamma ! " exclaimed a blooming girl of 
 seventeen, bursting into the room. " May I go 
 to Hyde HaU for the night ? Janie is here vnth 
 the pony carriage, and she says she vtiU bring me 
 back to-morrow in time for the children's 
 lessons." 
 
 " Dost thou particularly want to go. Rose ? " 
 said her mother. 
 
 " I think I should like to go. Mamma, it always 
 pleases Janie and Lizzie to have me, and I enjoy 
 it in a way, though the Hyde HaU cousins do play 
 such romping games. Janie has driven on with 
 
 a«3 
 
224 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 a message to the blacksmith, but she will call for 
 me in ten minutes." 
 
 " Very well, dear, go if thou wishes it. Art 
 thou going to put on thy grey merino ? " 
 
 " Oh, no — ^this Unsey wiU do, but I must take 
 off my blue bow, or cousin Sarah ^n will be 
 bearing her testimony," and Rose ran away, while 
 her mother gave a little regretful sigh. 
 
 In a few minutes the girl came back, in a warm 
 jacket of grey shag, with large buttons, and a 
 pork-pie hat bound with velvet. She talked to 
 her mother whilst she laced on her strong 
 Balmoral boots, a sensible fashion introduced by 
 Queen Victoria, in whose early days thin kid and 
 satin slippers were considered the only wear for 
 gentlewoinen, which restricted their movements 
 almost as much as if their feet had been bound 
 like 3l Chinese lady's. 
 
 " I don't quite understand the Hyde Hall 
 family," said Rose, as she tugged at her laces. 
 " Cousins Richard and Sarah Ann are so par- 
 ticular in many ways— why, those poor girls have 
 never been allowed even to read Uncle Tom's 
 Cabin, or The Wide, Wide World, and yet 
 they let them do things that Papa and thee would 
 not allow us to think of. And keeping them to 
 cottage bonnets and shawls does not really do 
 them any good. It only seems to make them 
 long for clothes like other girls. When I go 
 
CREATURELY ACTIVITY 225 
 
 there they always want to try on my hat, and 
 my hair-net, and my crinoline — which I am sure 
 is a very small one — and I feel as if I had stirred 
 up their discontent. One of their great 
 grievances is that they are not allowed to say 
 Papa and Mamma as we do. They think Father 
 and Mother sounds so very old-fashioned. Then 
 the boys are so rough, and talk about nothing but 
 horses, if they are made to always attend Fifth- 
 day meeting ! " 
 
 " It is a pity they have never been allowed to 
 go away to school," said the mother. 
 
 " I think one reason they like to have me as a 
 visitor is that I have seen more in my years at 
 Ackworth and York, and can tell them things." 
 
 " And thou mayst be able to help them a little, 
 my Rosie ; but do not be tempted to taste the 
 hot elder wine which I have heard of at Hyde 
 HaU." 
 
 " Catch me ! — ^but it is awkward. Mamma. 
 The last time I was there to dinner the maid 
 asked me if I would have beer or cider, and it 
 seemed so fussy to say water, when there was none 
 on the table, and Dick burst out laughing and 
 said, ' Cousin Rose is afraid of being a drunkard.' " 
 " Papa has several times asked cousin Richard 
 if it would not be better for his children to grow 
 up abstainers, but he cannot see the need of 
 change of family habits." 
 
226 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 " Ah, there is Janie ! Farewell, Mamma dear. 
 I hope the little ones will be good," and away went 
 Rose to join her cousin. 
 
 Miriam Vincent returned to her sewing 
 machine. "J wish there were some other young 
 Friends near for Rose to associate with," she 
 thought. " And when Walter leaves Bootham 
 Dick and George will try And make him like 
 themselves. I respect cousins Richaxd and Sarah 
 Ann, but somehow they do not seem able to 
 impress their goodness on. their ten children. " 
 
 Here the door opened and her husband came 
 in, a rfine, stalwart farmer, just home from the 
 weekly market. 
 
 " Well, Mamma, stiH at thy musical instru- 
 ment ? " he asked, as he kissed her. 
 
 Miriam laughed. " It is very useful music," 
 she said ; " but I shall not inflict it on thee this 
 evening, for there is nothing left to do to these 
 shirts but the gussets and button-holes, and those 
 must be done by hand." 
 
 Here tea was brought in, and the three youngest 
 children followed : Wilfrid, a sturdy, independent 
 boy of nine, who could catch his pony in the field 
 and ride it bareback at any pace, and the twins, 
 Annie and Fanny, rosy, fair-haired maidens of 
 seven. Four other children were away at school, 
 Walter at York, and the three next in age at 
 Ackworth. It was no small effort to find means 
 
CREATURELY ACTIVITY 227 
 
 for to many school bills at once, but there was 
 no day school that the parents liked within reach, 
 and Paul Vincent would say, " I do not mind 
 how plainly my children are clothed and fed, but 
 a good education they shall .have." 
 
 After tea he said to Wilfrid, " Now, boy, get 
 thy lessons learned quickly for school-ma'am 
 Rose, and then I will have a game of chess with 
 thee." 
 
 This incited the boy, who was anything but 
 bookish, to give his mind to geography and tables 
 which were soon said perfectly to Papa, and the 
 coveted game began. 
 
 Meanwhile, the twins were helped by their 
 mother in their little tasks of verses and spelling, 
 after which she also, joined in a merry game of 
 dominoes before they went to bed. 
 
 When Miriam, like the good mother that she 
 was, had paid her nightly visits to the three little 
 beds, she came back to the sitting-room, and said, 
 as she took up her sewing, " I h9pe, dear Paul, 
 thou dost not think I was wrong in letting Rose 
 go to Hyde Hall. Sh& has kept very diligently 
 to her teaching and home duties of late, and-, 
 young folks must have a little change some- 
 times." 
 
 " No, no, my darling,, thou knows best what 
 is good for the girl, although I wish cousin Ling's 
 family were not so fond of her. As it happens, 
 
228 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 I am rather glad she is away to-night, as I want 
 a good talk with thee." But he seemed in no 
 hurry to begin, and his wife felt a little anxious, 
 as if bad news might be coming. 
 
 At last he said, " Would it be a great trial to 
 thee, Miriam, to leave this farm, and Brattlebury 
 Meeting, to which thou has always belonged ? " 
 
 " Not, if thou feels it right, Paul. But why ? 
 Hast thou had losses of which I have not heard ? " 
 
 " No, love, no — business has gone well, but 
 many times lately I have felt as if there were 
 leadings to make a change for our children's 
 sake ; and to-day I have heard that old Enoch 
 Preston has died suddenly." 
 
 " What — ^that old Friend who expected his 
 Meeting to die out ? " 
 
 " Did he ? Well, Hayling Heath has the 
 smallest membership in our Quarterly Meeting." 
 
 " It was when that nice young American 
 Minister, Marsden Scott, was here that he told 
 me the story. He had been to Hayling Heath 
 for a First-day, and remarked to his host that the 
 burial ground at the Meeting House was nearly 
 full, and old Enoch said quite cheerfully, ' there 
 was just room for the graves of all the rest of the 
 Meeting, for he had measured it.' Marsden had 
 a keen sense of humour, and he could not help 
 being amused, but at the same time he felt it 
 very sad that a good old Friend should have no 
 
CREATURELY ACTIVITY 229 
 
 wish to see others brought to join in our privileged 
 manner of worship." 
 
 " It was just like him. He said to me once 
 when I expressed sorrow for the declining numbers 
 of our Society, that ' the gleanings of Ephraim 
 are better than the vintage of Abi-ezer.' I fear 
 his stiffness and repression has tended to drive 
 away some who ought to attend there. But he 
 was a good farmer, and Hayling Manor, where 
 he has lived all his life, is in high condition. He 
 was a yeoman, thou knows, farming his own free- 
 hold, and there is no one to succeed him. His 
 nephew and heir is a Leeds manufacturer, and 
 knows nothing of country life. I expect he would 
 be glad to have it taken off his hands." 
 
 " But we could not afford to buy that large 
 farm." 
 
 " No, but I think the nephew would prefer 
 to rent it, as it has been in their family for many 
 generations. It is near enough to the station 
 for a good milk trade, and when Walter leaves 
 Bootham he will be a great help, for he is a born 
 farmer. I have felt anxious about having him 
 at home here with Dick and George Ling, and 
 other young men of their stamp for companions. 
 Walter's taste for natural history (which they 
 despise), has kept him away from them in the 
 holidays, but were he in business it would be 
 different. The Manor is a nice old house, with 
 
2^0 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 a fine gardeii and orchard; and thou wouldst 
 find it a privilege not to have the five mile drive 
 to Meeting, as w^e have here. It is hardly ten 
 minutes walk from Hajrling Heath, so there would 
 be more First-day re&t for man and horse." 
 " But it is such a very small Meeting." 
 " Size is not everything. Brattlebury is a lai^ 
 one, but dost thou feel that it is as lively as it 
 might be ? We are too much a circle of relatives 
 for freedom, and perhaps we have allowed old 
 uncle and aunt Peters to rule us too much for our 
 good." Paul Vincent hesitated, and then went 
 on, " Our five Elders all take the line of repression, 
 and I have come to feel deeply that it is not well. 
 Thou knows, my darling, what an effort it was 
 when I felt the call to break the silence in Meeting, 
 but I was helped, as I reverently believe by the 
 Divine aid, to deliver a message entrusted to me. 
 That, was a month ago, but not one of the Elders 
 had sfpoken to me till to-day, when I was busy in 
 the cattle-market, and had ju?t sold three steers 
 to Briggs, the butcher. I found old Job Keely 
 standing at my elbow, and when Briggs turned 
 away he said, sourly, ' I did hope, Paul Vincent, 
 that after thou hadst taken on thyself to appear 
 in the ministry, thou wouldst have returned to 
 true consistency in thy coat collar, and in using 
 the plain language to aU men ! ' I was so hurt, 
 Miriam, that I could not say a word. It seemed 
 
CREATURELY ACTIVITY 231 
 
 to me so trivial after such a solemn experience 
 as I felt it to be, and so strange that one appointed 
 to cherish the church, should have no word of 
 sympathy" to give. I really feel that a fresh 
 voice is not acceptable. We are so used to dear 
 old Jacob Lane's invariable long sermon every 
 meeting day (and very good sermons they are), 
 and to Kesiah Flynn's musical chant, that any- 
 thing else seems an intrusion. In a meeting like 
 ours, where almost all are connected, I suppose 
 the prophet is bound to be without honour. 
 They know my faults and inconsistencies too 
 well," he ended, sadly. 
 
 " No, dear Paul, do not think that. Those 
 words were first applied to our Divine Master, 
 in whose perfect life there were no incon- 
 sistencies. It is strange, but true, that we do 
 appreciate ministers from a distance, but at the 
 same time how often, a life of self-denying holiness 
 that we know well, makes very simple communica- 
 tions impressive." 
 
 " I love the plain language amongst ourselves, 
 but in these days it sounds ridiculous to out- 
 siders. Briggs is much more likely to be impressed 
 for good by my being honest and considerate in 
 my dealings than if I addressed him as thee and 
 thou, and had a stand up collar to my coat ! I 
 felt it a mere outside and unimportant matter 
 when I gave up the Friends' coat, but somehow, 
 
232 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 I should not like to see thee without thy bonnet 
 and cap, Miriam." 
 
 " I do not think thou wilt, Paul. I also prefer 
 to wear what I am used to, but for the children 
 I feel it best to dress them simply and incon- 
 spicuously. Pretty Lizzie Ling in her ultra-plain 
 bonnet, is much more likely to be stared at than 
 our Rose. Some of our elder Friends put such 
 undue importance on these outside things. 
 When aunt Peters kindly took Rose in her carriage 
 to Quarterly Meeting, she not only lectured her 
 on wearing a crinoline, but at the .inn actually 
 snipped out some tiny white bows from her bonnet 
 cap, which vexed the girl sadly. But never a 
 word did she say to her of the deeper things of 
 the religious life. Rose is a thoughtful girl, and 
 she told aunt Peters about her Birmingham 
 school-fellows First-day School teaching, thinking 
 she would be interested ; but all she said was, 
 ' My dear, do not be led away by creaturely 
 activity.'" 
 
 " That is a favourite phrase with both uncle 
 and aunt Peters, when they hear of younger 
 Friends taking up work to which they did not 
 feel called." 
 
 " Yes, thou knows my sister Frances, and 
 Phcebe Blaine have a meeting on second-day 
 afternoons for poor mothers — ^women who never 
 are able to get to a place of worship, or have any 
 
CREATURELY ACTIVITY 233 
 
 variety in their drudging lives. They have a 
 clothing club, too, and it has become so popular 
 that Phoebe's laundry room it uncomfortably 
 crowded. In last Women's Preparative Meeting 
 they asked leave to transfer it to the Women's 
 Meeting House. It does seem such a pity those 
 good premises should only be used three times a 
 week. I know the younger Friends were in 
 sympathy, but aunt Peters invariably speaks 
 first, and she was very impressive about not 
 placing dependence on creaturely activity. 
 Cousin Sarah Ann always echoes her mother, 
 and to my surprise Eliza Canniford did too, so 
 consent was refused. After meeting I said to 
 Eliza that I was sorry for Phoebe and Frances' 
 disappointment, and she whispered, ' My dear, 
 it would never do to admit a crowd of working- 
 class people into our Meeting House — they might 
 bring fleas.^ " 
 
 Paul Vincent laughed heartily, and then said 
 sadly, " These good Friends know not what they 
 do in discouraging such efforts. Dost thou 
 remember, Miriam, that stunted myrtle bush of 
 thine, that never blossomed, and when it was 
 turned out of the pot there was a mass of roots 
 twisted round and round each other, and the 
 old gardener said it was ' pot bound.' It soon 
 recovered when its roots had room to expand. 
 I think our Meeting has become like that myrtle ; 
 
234 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 and for thee and me, and our children, it may be 
 better to make a fresh start elsewhere." 
 
 " I think thou art right," said Miriam, thought- 
 fully. " Frances would feel our leaving, and of 
 course there would be pain in breaking many old 
 ties, so we shall need to be very sure of guidance 
 in the matter." 
 
 " Well, we will say nothing at present. I 
 should in any case attend Enoch Preston's 
 funeral, as I have known him all my life, and I 
 may have a chance of hearing what the nephew 
 proposes to do witL the farm." 
 
 Rose came home in good time next morning, 
 and went through the little ones' school hours 
 in her usual lively fashion. When twelve o'clock 
 struck and thev rushed out of doors to some of 
 the innumerable joys of country children, she 
 tied on a white apron, and joined her mother, 
 who was cutting up windfall apples for jelly in 
 the store room. 
 
 " Well, my darling, didst thou have a nice 
 time at Hyde Hall ? " 
 
 " Rather a riotous one," said Rose, ruefully. 
 " I feel half ashamed, Mamma, for I do enjoy the 
 fun, but when I get home it feels as if it had 
 not been the best kind of fun. It was worse than 
 usual this time, for I found that cousins Richard 
 and Sarah Ann were away for the night — and 
 talk of mice at play ! Janie and Lizzie both did 
 
CREATURELY ACTIVITY 235 
 
 their hair like the Empress Eugenie, and tied on 
 pink neck ribbons for tea, and then we played 
 Blind Man's Buff, and all sorts of noisy games, 
 and Dick broiight out a concertina that one of 
 their workmen had sold him, and taught him to 
 play. He is so fond of music that he has picked 
 it up wonderfully, but what would his father say 
 if he saw it ? " 
 
 " He would confiscate it at once, like the 
 teacher at Ackworth did our Teddie's Jew's 
 harp," said Miriam Vincent. 
 
 " One of the tunes he played was a polka, and 
 we all tried to dance. Janie had learnt it from 
 one of the servants. It was great fun, but. 
 Mamma, the elder ones kept saying to the six 
 little ones, ' Mind you don't tell,' and Johnnie 
 Ling, who is a horrid little imp, said, ' You will 
 have to do just what I want, Dick and Janie, or I 
 will tell of you,' and they threatened him with 
 all sorts of punishments if he dared. At supper, 
 after the little ones were gone to bed, they had 
 hot elder wine,, and the boys teased me to taste 
 it, but Lizzie is kind, and she made me a cup of 
 cocoa. I think Dick and George amused them- 
 selves by trying to shock me by telling of the 
 un-Friendly things they do on the sly. They said 
 that when they were in London for the Cattle 
 Show they went to the theatre ! It does seem 
 .so horribly underhand to deceive their parents 
 
236 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 so — and theatres are bad, are they not, 
 Mamma ? " 
 
 " I hope thou and Walter will never go to one, 
 Rosie, for this reason, that I feel it wrong to 
 take amusements which do harm to our fellow 
 creatures to provide. Some people maintain 
 that the drama may be made instructive and 
 elevating, and point to good, pure women who 
 have made their living by acting ; but it is a life 
 of great temptation, and no one can deny that 
 it drags many a poor girl to perdition. The very 
 publicity, and taking the characters of wicked 
 women must be degrading. I have noticed plays 
 advertised with such titles as ' The Worst Woman 
 in London,' and ' The Girl Who Went Astray.' 
 Dost not thou think it a terrible thing for a 
 wom.an to assume such characters night after 
 night for months ? Could she keep a sweet, 
 modest character of her own ? Could she be a 
 real Christian while leading such a life ? And 
 if not, ought Christian people to encourage such 
 doings by attending theatres, even if they feel 
 it does no harm to themselves ? " 
 
 " I see," said Rose, thoughtfully. " It is like 
 the poor gladiators we were told of at school, 
 who were ' Butchered to make a Roman 
 holiday.' " 
 
 " There is plenty of recreation to be had which 
 harms no one. Papa and I want you to have a 
 
CREATURELY ACTIVITY 237 
 
 happy time while you are young, and you older 
 ones see that pure pleasure can be found in 
 intellectual pursuits. That is what the Hyde 
 Hall cousins do not know, but they are young, 
 and I trust that when they have cut their wisdom 
 teeth they will feel ashamed of deceiving their 
 good parents." 
 
 " I hope they will," said Rose, drawing a long 
 breath. " I am glad I have told thee, Mamma, 
 for I felt so uncomfortable, and as if I do not 
 want to go to the Lings again. Still, Lizzie is 
 really a nice girl at the bottom, perhaps we might 
 have her to stay here some time ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, dear — and that is the last apple, 
 thanks to thy kind help. Now call the twins in, 
 and see that they are tidy for dinner." 
 
 Paul Vincent came home from the funeral 
 unusually quiet and thoughtful, and when alone 
 with his wife, he said, " I feel as if we are being 
 led to Hayling Heath, Miriam. John Preston 
 took me aside after we had had tea at the Manor, 
 and asked if I can go over and direct the bailifi 
 occassionally until he decided what to do with 
 the farm. He had heard his uncle speak of me, 
 and felt that it was what he would have wished. 
 John and his wife are staying on a week or two 
 to arrange matters. Old Enoch lost his wife 
 twenty years ago, and would never allow her 
 private possessions to be touched. Mary Preston 
 
238 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 said it was most pathetic to find a half-made 
 shirt in her workbasket on the side table, for she 
 died suddenly, as well as her husband. And all 
 her nice merino gowns, and warm shawls are so 
 terribly moth eaten they are no use to anyone ! 
 Mary said it would have been a more real honour 
 to her aunt's memory to have passed them on to 
 be a comfort to some poor women. 
 
 " They intend to have a sale of the furniture, 
 but it is such heavy old-fashioned, oaken stuff 
 that it will not fetch much. I am to go over 
 again on Sixth day to see John, and stay the night, 
 and Mary asked if thou wouldst not come too — 
 it seems she was thy school-fellow." 
 
 " Yes, she was Mary Murray then, the youngest 
 amongst us, and quite a pet. But I have never 
 seen her since." 
 
 " Thou wilt find hef a very pleasing, thoughtful 
 Friend. Canst thou leave the children to come 
 with me ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Miriam, smiling. " We have 
 a grown-up daughter now, and I can trust Rose 
 to do in our absence precisely as she would in our 
 presence. I should ,like to see the place before we« 
 decide, for although I have been at Hayling Manor 
 years ago, I do not remember much about it." 
 
 A warm welcome awaited them when the day 
 came, Miriam and Mary Preston meeting as old 
 friends. While their husbands went out to walk 
 
CREATURELY ACTIVITY 239 
 
 round the farm, Mary took her visitor all over 
 the house, little guessing how deep was her 
 interest. It had been w6ll kept hy Enoch's old 
 housekeeper arid her daughter, to whom he had 
 left a handsome legacy. There were plenty of 
 good bedrooms for a large family, a sunny school- 
 room, and sitting rooms that fresh paper and 
 paint would make bright and pleasant. The 
 garden was chkrming, and full of such roses, and 
 uncommon shrubs and plants which showed it 
 had been the hobby of a man of taste and culture. 
 After the early tea Paul Vincent said to his 
 hostess, " I should like to take my wife out for 
 a little walk, if thou wilt excuse her." It was a 
 lovely September evening, and after looking 
 round the homestead in earnest talk, they strolled 
 towards the village, soon finding the old stone 
 Meeting House, half hidden by the lime trees, 
 which bent over the quiet graves. The door was 
 ajar, and Paul and Miriam entered. The last 
 rays of the setting sun shone through the western 
 casement, gilding the old grey oak of the panels 
 and forms as they sat down side by side — at first 
 in silence, followed by a low prayer for guidance 
 aS to whether their appointed lot lay in this 
 village, and that, if it did, not only might worship 
 in that house be blessed to themselves and their 
 children, but that it might become a centre of 
 help to those around. 
 
240 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 When they came out both felt satisfied that 
 the change must be made, and they agreed to 
 ask John Preston at once if Paul would be accept- 
 able as a tenant. Nothing could have pleased him 
 better. It was within a few days of Michaelmas, 
 and to have just the man whom his uncle would 
 have chosen ready to assume responsibility at 
 once, was a relief to the Leeds manufacturer, 
 and the two men were soon deep in talk of leases 
 and valuations. 
 
 Meanwhile Miriam helped Mary Preston in 
 the sorting of what seemed an endless quantity of 
 goods from the stores of the aunt whom Mary 
 had never even seen. It is always a pathetic 
 task to turn out an old home where one family 
 have lived for generations, and they found, 
 among piles of utter rubbish, many interesting 
 things, snuff boxes, shoe buckles, bits of exquisite 
 embroidery done by long-forgotten hands, a few 
 miniatures, and piles of silhouettes, those little 
 black profile portraits which preceded photo- 
 graphy. Doubtless these were once treasures, 
 but no names were there, and no one living was 
 old enough to identify them, so they had become 
 of little interest. Many bundles of old letters 
 they sorted, some of family interest, but many 
 which had better have been destroyed half a 
 century ago. " If I do not look over them here, 
 I shall never manage it at Leeds," said Mary, 
 
CREATURELY ACTIVITY 241 
 
 and was glad of the help of her capable visitor, 
 up to the hour when the Vincents were obliged 
 to go home. 
 
 It was rather a shock to Rose when she heard 
 that they were to leave the only home she had 
 known, but a visit to Hayling Manor filled her 
 with bright anticipations of the new life there. 
 Paul Vincent could not leave his own farm until 
 the year's notice was over, so the autumn months 
 were extremely busy for him. 
 
 When Christmas came Walter left York, and 
 although only sixteen was so sensible and respons- 
 sible a boy that he soon became his father's 
 right hand, and spent much time at Hayling 
 Manor. From the fresh neighbourhood he often 
 brought home beetles, bird's eggs, and shells for 
 his collections, which inspired Wilfrid to do 
 likewise, and many happy evenings were spent by 
 the big and little brothers over these treasures. 
 
 There was no Ackworth winter vacation in 
 those days, and very strange it seemed to Edith, 
 Edgar, and Grace to hear they were to return in 
 the summer to an unknovvm home, for as the new 
 farm needed most attention, the move to Hayling 
 Manor was made in the spring. 
 
 The first pale green leaves were bursting from 
 their crimson sheaths on the Meeting House 
 .limes on the bright First-day morning when the 
 Vincents and their five children first worshipped 
 
 16 
 
242 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 there. The family were a very welcome sight to 
 the eight or ten Friends who had faithfully kept 
 up the silent Meeting since Enoch Preston died. 
 
 But it was a silent Meeting no longer. Paul 
 Vincent's gift, so long repressed, found large 
 openings, and Miriam's occasional, simple, trustful 
 prayers helped him and all the little congrega- 
 tion. One or two families who had drifted away 
 under the old rSgime, came back when the report 
 of a living Meeting spread, and became regular 
 attenders. 
 
 The Vincents found Hayling Heath a sadly 
 neglected village, with a drinking Squire, and a 
 bachelor clergyman who understood Greek and 
 Hebrew much better than the broad country 
 vernacular of his parishioners, and no Noncon- 
 formist Chapel within three miles. 
 
 Now Miriam's " babies " had reached the 
 mature age of eight years, and she had such a 
 capable helper as Rose, she felt the time was come 
 to try and help other mothers. Phoebe Blaine 
 was invited to explain matters at a preliminary 
 tea party, and very soon thirty or forty women 
 gathered in the Meeting House on Monday 
 afternoon for cheerful reading, clothing club, 
 a simple, homely Bible lesson, and womanly 
 sympathy in all the trials and difficulties of life. 
 
 Next Rose, who noticed the evil influence of 
 the two village beer shops, developed a concern 
 
CREATURELY ACTIVITY 243 
 
 to start a Band of Hope — a most unheard of 
 thing in a village where beer had been considered 
 one of the chief ends of life ! It was uphiU work 
 at first, through the parents' prejudice and apathy, 
 but the novelty attracted the children, and soon 
 the Meeting House was crowded with them, some 
 coming miles to attend. Walter came to help — 
 " Just to keep Rose's brats in order," he said, but 
 soon became a most efficient conductor. It 
 seemed best to have singing, which these untrained 
 young Friends could not manage, but Rose 
 coaxed the young school mistress to help in this 
 department, and in due time she became a warm 
 abstainer herself. The Meeting House resounded 
 to the tune of " Give me a draught from the 
 crystal spring," in a way which would have 
 horrified Enoch Preston, or old aunt Peters, 
 even though no instrument but the human voice 
 was allowed on the premises. 
 
 When John Preston came on a business visit 
 he spoke to Paul Vincent of the good influence of 
 Adult Schools on town workmen, and together 
 they started one on Sunday afternoons, because 
 to men in charge of cattle, the early school is 
 impossible. It was never large, but a group of 
 the more intelligent inhabitants gathered to it, 
 learning lessons of brotherhood and mutual aid 
 as they studied the New Testament together. 
 Walter soon found his place in teaching men 
 
244 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 twice his age to read and write, for it was long 
 before the days of compulsory education, 
 
 Lizzie Ling never forgot her affection for Rose 
 and kept her infornied of great changes which 
 had come to Hyde Hall. No intoxicants came 
 on the 'table now, for Richard and Sarah Ann 
 Ling had had a rude awakening when Dick and 
 George came home after a fair decidedly the worse 
 for drink. 
 
 In spite of the bitter sorrow of his parents, 
 Dick, the first-born son, had acquired the taste 
 for stimulants so deeply that he finally vanished 
 from the neighbourhood, and went out to 
 Australia in a vain hope that a fresh environment 
 would break the chain. 
 
 Janie made an early and foolish marriage, but 
 Lizzie and George both became thoughtful and 
 steady and a comfort to their parents. 
 
 After a visit to Rose, Lizzie also started a Band 
 of Hope in her village, and in course of time 
 Johnnie, the imp, became her best helper. 
 
 How many men and women who have risen 
 to fill large places in the philanthropic and 
 religious world have made their first efforts in 
 f>romoting the cause of truth and righteousness 
 dmong the children in some humble Band of 
 Hope ? From Hayling Heath Meeting House, 
 and the efforts of those two bright young Friends 
 in their teens, scores x>f men and women went out 
 
CREATURELY ACTIVITY 245 
 
 into the world prepared to resist the ever-present 
 temptations to drink which have wrecked so 
 many lives, and with their minds and tastes 
 turned to whatsoever things are lovely and of 
 good report. The younger sisters when they 
 left school, took up the work with enthusiasm, 
 which was well, for Rose was soon carried off to 
 bloom in a home of her own. Girls in the 
 sixties did not all think that they must desert 
 their parents and take up some special vocation 
 as soon as school days were over, but cheerfully 
 settled at home, doing the work that was nearest, 
 and very useful work it often was. 
 
 As years went on a slip of the meadow at the 
 back of the Meeting House was bought by Friends 
 to enlarge the burial ground, and when all that 
 was mortal of good Paul Vincent, at the age of 
 eighty-five, was laid there, it was in the presence 
 of hundreds of men and women of all classes who 
 had reason to bless his faithful " creaturely 
 activity." 
 
HOW THE MANTLE FELL 
 
 1875 
 
 It was Monthly Meeting day, and all the glorious 
 sunshine of golden autumn weather lit up the 
 lime trees which were dropping their first yellow 
 leaves upon the green graves outside the grey 
 stone Meeting House. 
 
 Within, some two score Friends were just 
 settling for their Meeting for Worship. They 
 had with them the " acceptable company " of 
 one of the best loved ministers from America, 
 Silas Morton, a genial, white-haired old man, 
 who, although he wore the wide-brimmed hat 
 and straight collar of the most rigid section of the 
 Society, never tried to impress outward con- 
 formity on others. " My ministry is not one of 
 condemnation," he would say, smiling ; and like 
 Whittier's " Pilgrim " : 
 
 " He made his own no circuit-judge to tiy 
 The freer conscience of his neighbours b^." 
 
 He was ushered to the first seat in the gallery 
 by the local ministers. Several women Elders, 
 still wearing the genuine Quaker bonnet, seated 
 
 <4e 
 
HOW THE MANTLE FELL 247 
 
 themselves beyond him, leaving one seat vacant for 
 " the mother of the meeting " — ^gentle Persis 
 Bell, the only woman recorded minister of this 
 branch of the community. 
 
 Below, the company were taking their seats ; 
 soberly clad women, bright faced girls in quiet 
 hats, shrewd business men, all leaving their 
 avocations on this week-day morning for this 
 quiet hour of worship and church business. 
 
 Just as the hush was falling, the door opened 
 again to admit two Friends of very different 
 appearance. First, a tall, active woman in a 
 riding habit, her dark hair closely braided in a 
 great knot under her boulder hat, her cheeks 
 blooming with exercise. She was followed by a 
 man slightly younger, evidently her brother, in 
 rough frieze coat, corduroy breeches and high 
 boots. 
 
 A half smile of recognition passed over several 
 faces, as they noted that Ruth and Andrew 
 Netherby had ridd'en over from their farm, 
 making a bee line of the twelve miles over high 
 pastures and lonely bridle paths, only known to 
 those whose whole lives had been passed among 
 those northern hills. 
 
 Andrew sat down on the men's side — ^next to 
 the door, a reminder of the chivalry of men in the 
 days of persecution, that they might bear the 
 first brunt if Meeting were roughly interrupted. 
 
248 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 A girl on the side seat glanced up as they came 
 in, and blushed crimson under her shady hat. 
 Only a few days before Helen Holmes and Andrew 
 Netherby had plighted their troth, and she had 
 not seen his sister since. Ruth crossed over and 
 sat down beside her — the gauntletted riding 
 glove on the left hand gave a warm pressure to 
 the neat grey kid next to it, and then silence fell. 
 
 Still Persis Bell, the ever-punctual, had not 
 appeared. Perhaps she was waiting for her 
 nephew, a busy solicitor, who would come by a 
 later train. A local Friend knelt in prayer, 
 pleading that their gathering might be a time of 
 special blessing, and of re-dedication to the Lord's 
 service. To Andrew and Helen, sitting together 
 for the first time since their troth-plight, it 
 seemed most appropriate and helpful. 
 
 As Friends sat down, good, motherly Elizabeth 
 Barnes shifted her seat to that next Silas Morton 
 — their American visitor must not find vacancy 
 when he turned to look for a hand to break up 
 meeting. A woman of abounding hospitality, 
 she noted that the Monthly Meeting was more 
 largely attended than usual, and her thoughts 
 flew to the preparations for dinner in her house 
 near. Would there be cup-custards enough, 
 and would the overflow party in the schoolroom 
 be obliged to use teaspoons for their pudding ? 
 She caught herself up with a sense of shame — 
 
HOW THE MANTLE FELL 249 
 
 that she, sitting at the head of the Meeting, in 
 Persis Bell's own seat, shotild admit such wander- 
 ing thoughts ! She resolutely closed her eyes 
 and endeavoured to join in the united worship. 
 
 The silence was long, the American visitor sat 
 with bent head, evidently under deep concern. 
 At last he arose. " Friends," he began, " when 
 I asked for my minute for service in this land I 
 told my liberating Meeting that I desired to 
 know nothing among you save Jesus Christ, and 
 Him crucified. Not once during these months 
 have I felt led to speak of anything but the life 
 of our blessed Lord in the New Testament, and 
 the sayings of His apostles. But to-day, as I 
 sought for a message for you, none seems given 
 but the story of Elijah and Elisha." He went on 
 to speak of the great prophet of Israel throwing 
 his mantle over the young man at the plough, 
 who became his faithful attendant, until the master 
 was called to higher service, and the mantle 
 which fell from him was taken up by the prophet 
 who was in due time to take his place. 
 
 It was but a short sermon, and he sat down. 
 
 A few minutes later the door opened, and 
 Stephen Bell came in, carrying the small, but 
 heavy, leather case of books, jocularly called 
 " The weight of the Meeting." He took his 
 seat near the door, and bowed his head on the 
 back of the form in front, evidently under strong 
 
*S0 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 emotion. Some Friends watched him curiously. 
 Was the reticent, reserved Stephen Bell about 
 to make a first appearance in the ministry ? 
 
 At last he rose. " Friends," he said, " I am 
 the bearer of heavy tidings. My dear aunt is 
 gone from us, passing away in her sleep, although 
 yesterday she was as well as usual, and preparing 
 to come to Monthly Meeting. Her landlady 
 found this letter addressed to me, which she had 
 placed beside her bed every night for more than 
 a year : — 
 
 " ' My beloved Nephew, — ^The doctor has 
 given me good tidings to-day. He says I shall 
 probably be called home suddenly, and be spared 
 the long decline of helpless dependence on others 
 which I have so dreaded. I have debated whether 
 I ought to tell you, but I feel the strain of watching 
 for the end would be harder for thee and thy 
 dear wife than the shock of hearing I am gone. 
 You have both been so good to me, and so has 
 every one. Give my dear love to aU Friends, 
 and thank them for the affection which has made 
 my life such a happy one. I ask that you will 
 all unite with me in praising Him who gives the 
 victory through Jesus Christ our Lord. — ^Thy 
 tenderly attached aunt, Persis Bell.' " 
 
 The reader's voice broke, and he sat down 
 again with hidden face. The startled Meeting 
 felt stunned — not one of them but had received 
 
HOW THE MANTLE FELL 251 
 
 manifold loving kindness from the good woman 
 they would never see amongst them again. Her 
 gift in the ministry was not large, but redolent 
 of peace and goodwill — ^hopeful, helpful, cheerful. 
 How they would miss her in the Monthly 
 Meeting, as well as in her own town of Braxstead ! 
 
 No one knew her worth better than old Charles 
 Coles, the retired Superintendent of one of the 
 large Friends' Schools. At the time of a 
 terrible epidemic, when his own wife lay dying, 
 the teachers, as well as many pupils, were stricken 
 down ; Persis Bell had come to the school, had 
 nursed the sick, controlled the well, brought an 
 atmosphere of hopefulness and attention to 
 duty, and tided them over the hard time in a 
 wonderful way, which he could never forget. 
 But his mind was lifted above the sense of loss, 
 and kneeling, he voiced the feeling of the Meeting 
 in thankfulness for the blessing of that consecrated 
 life among them, and for the blessed hope through 
 Christ for her, and for themselves. 
 
 To most of those present the tidings had 
 entirely blotted out the previous address, but to 
 Ruth Netherby it came back with startling force 
 — ^Persis Bell's mantle — on whom would it fall ? 
 Could it be that she was called to be the general 
 helper of the community ? 
 
 Although heartily rejoicing in her brother's 
 engagement, she had wondered where way would 
 
252 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 open for her services. For ten years past she 
 had been the busy mistress of the large farmhouse. 
 Now Helen, weU qualified by her training as a 
 farmer's daughter, would take her place. Was 
 this the answer to her prayer for guidance to a 
 place of usefulness ? She could only wait and 
 see. 
 
 When the Meeting was broken up, Andrew 
 Netherby, the assistant Clerk, turned to Stephen 
 Bell, and said in a low voice, " Let me take the 
 table to-day. You have had such a shock, surely 
 you wduld rather go home ? " 
 
 " Thank thee, Andrew, I think I shall feel 
 better satisfied to do it myself. I prepared the 
 minutes last night, but I shall be glad if thou wilt 
 do most of the reading," and with something of 
 Spartan self-control, the Clerk walked up the 
 Meeting, and spread his books and papers on the 
 desk. 
 
 It was in the early days when men and women 
 Friends began to transact their business in con- 
 ference, to the greatly ^dded interest of the 
 Monthly Meeting. Ruth had often noted the 
 contrast in the hands of the Clerks : Stephen Bell's 
 white and slender, the hands of the town-bred 
 scholar ; Andrew's large, brown and capable, 
 hardened with practical work in many an 
 agricultural emergency, but in spite of their 
 different training the two Clerks worked admirably 
 
HOW THE MANTLE FELL 253 
 
 together. To-day the white hands trembled, 
 and the brown were busier than usual placing 
 every paper just when and where it was needed ; 
 and Andrew's good, clear voice, well trained at 
 York School, went steadily through minutes, 
 applications and reports, and all the needful 
 business. 
 
 When it was over, Elizabeth Barnes laid hold 
 on Ruth. " Thee and Andrew wiU dine with 
 us ? My husband wants to talk to thy brother 
 about that trust property. But, dear, dear, how 
 shall we get along without Persis Bell ? Dear 
 creature ! — she was a young teacher at Ackworth 
 when I went, a little shy child nearly fifty years 
 ago, and she was so sweetly kind to me, and has 
 been ever since," and the good woman's eyes 
 filled with tears. 
 
 " We shall aU miss her sadly," said Ruth, 
 thoughtfully — then in a brighter tone : ' We 
 shall be pleased to dine with you, and hast thou 
 room for Helen Holmes as well ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, but I heard her parents agreeing 
 to dine with Samuel Smith — ^will not she go 
 with them ? " 
 
 " I think she would like to come with us to-day. 
 I must let thee share a happy secret, Elizabeth 
 Barnes — ^Helen is going to be my dear sister." 
 
 The worthy Elder had the faculty of rejoicing 
 with those who rejoice, and although her eyes 
 
254 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 were still moist, her face fairly beamed. Helen 
 was kissed and congratulated, for both young 
 people were deservedly popular. The good news 
 was passed on, and many kind greetings met the 
 pair, but still the sense of loss was with the 
 Friends as they left the Meeting House, and 
 wended to the houses where hospitality awaited 
 them. 
 
 Each one had something to teU of Persis Bell's 
 worth, from the hearty, if irreverent, " She was 
 such a joUy old girl," of Joe Barnes, to the sketch 
 Charles Coles was giving to the American of the 
 life just ended. How Persis BeU had kept a 
 successful school in Braxstead, had brought up 
 her orphan nephew, Stephen, had served on the 
 School Board, worked for the Bible Society, and 
 been chief promoter of every effort of Friends 
 for the elevation of their townsfolk. 
 
 Those old Monthly Meeting dinners ! What 
 an example of the grace of hospitality they were. 
 The long tables spread with linen of exquisite 
 texture, the bright silver and glass, the plain, 
 but abundant food. Great joints of meat for the 
 hungry,and fruit tarts and custards often delicately 
 compounded by the fair hands of the hostess the 
 day before. Then the long pause of thanks- 
 giving after all were seated, the buzz of friendly 
 talk, the happy, family feeling of it all. The old 
 order has changed, and Friends live too far apart 
 
HOW THE MANTLE FELL 255 
 
 now to offer hospitality in the old way, but those 
 Monthly Meeting dinners were pleasant times. 
 
 In the garden, when the meal was finished, 
 Helen drew her future sister-in-law aside. " Ruth 
 dear, you will live with us, won't you ? I cannot 
 bear to think of turning you out of your lifelong 
 home. Andrew looks to you in everything." 
 
 " And now he must look to yow," said Ruth, 
 smiling. " Believe me, Helen, I am more than 
 satisfied with Andrew's happiness, and I am sure 
 it is generally best for husband and wife to be 
 alone together, so I would rather make my home 
 elsewhere. I do not know where, yet, but way 
 will open, and the right place be shown to me," 
 and with this Helen was obliged to be satisfied. 
 She walked vpith them to the inn yard, saw them 
 mount their horses and ride away at a brisk pace 
 in order to reach home before twilight fell, and 
 then rejoined her parents. 
 
 A few days after the large Meeting House at 
 Braxstead was crowded for the funeral of Persis 
 Bell. The small, plain coffin was carried in, 
 with no ostentatious pile of wreaths, but a singlp 
 spray of large white lilies, emblem of a blameless 
 life, placed there by the nephew to whom she had 
 been a mother. 
 
 To make room for the public, some of the local 
 Friends, including Ruth, were seated in the 
 minister's gallery, chairs were put in the aisles. 
 
2S6 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 and many young men stood about the doors^ 
 All sorts and conditions were there : the Mayor, 
 the Rector, the Doctor, old women from the 
 Almshouse, soldiers in uniform, old pupils, and 
 Friends from far and near ; hundreds of liyes 
 which had been touched for their good by that 
 one modest, loving, Christian soul. As Ruth 
 looked over the gathering, the Bible words flashed 
 into her mind : " More are the children of the 
 desolate than the children of the married wife." 
 
 Charles Coles briefly explained our mode of 
 worship to those unaccustomed to it, and one 
 after another testified to that Grace which had 
 enabled the departed to live her beneficent life, 
 and to be ready to enter the Life beyond with 
 such happy trust. 
 
 Then, through streets of closed blinds, the 
 whole congregation followed to the Friends' quiet 
 burial ground half a mile away. With a few more 
 words of prayer and praise the coffin was lowered, 
 and after one last look the mourners turned away. 
 
 Ruth found herself walking with Lucy Kirby, 
 Persis Bell's landlady, for since Stephen's marriage 
 fifteen years ago she had preferred not to have 
 the burden of a house, but lived in rooms over 
 a china shop kept by the Kirbys, who were 
 Friends, and most worthy people. 
 
 " No one could have had a better lodger," said 
 Mrs. Kirby to Ruth. " Always cheerful and 
 
HOW THE MANTLE FELL 257 
 
 considerate, and making the best of things, it 
 has been a blessing to have her in the house. 
 Stepheh Bell is going to pay the rent till Christmas 
 while he and Mrs. Bell are sorting and disposing 
 of the furniture— there will not be much to do, 
 for she has been arranging and labelling her 
 papers during this past year, and has destroyed a 
 good many. I can't bear to think of anyone else 
 in those rooms, although I suppose I ought to 
 try and let them in the spring." 
 
 Was this the home that Ruth needed ? Could 
 she, country bred as she was, settle in a street of 
 a busy town ? Did the " mantle " include living 
 in those rooms, the scene of so many a happy tea- 
 party, of so many a wise couaisel, and sweet 
 consoling. 
 
 A few days after, when she had ridden iijto the 
 town by herself, she went to see the rooms. 
 There was a private door in a side street, and a 
 good staircase led to a large sitting-room with a 
 sunny south window full of flowering plants, and 
 a modest bedroom behind, and Mrs. Kir by had 
 a spare room for an occasional visitor. Ruth 
 looked at them thoughtfully, and took Mrs. 
 Kirby into her confidence. The rent was 
 moderate, and suitable to her means, and 
 although the rooms looked old-fashioned and 
 dingy, yet fresh paint and paper, with her 
 own furniture, woidd work wonders. So she 
 
 17 
 
2S8 THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 engaged them, charging Mrs. Kirby to say 
 nothing at present. 
 
 The months that followed were busy ones, 
 arranging the old house for Andrew's bride, but 
 she .said little of her own plans until the wedding 
 day at Easter, after Andrew and Helen had 
 departed for their wedding tour in the Isle of 
 Wight. Two sisters, with their husbands, and 
 a brother whose wife was not able to be present, 
 returned with Ruth to spend the night at the 
 old home, so soon to be ruled by a new mistress. 
 
 What a noble, north-country tea she had 
 provided for them ! What home-cured ham, 
 and large buff eggs ; what preserves and honey, 
 and various kinds of hot cakes — ^just the things 
 they remembered as treats in their childhood's 
 days in those large, low rooms. 
 
 Tea over, they drew round the blazing wood 
 fire, and talked of the wedding and of Andrew 
 and Helen's future life. 
 
 " In this large house there is plenty of room 
 for you, Ruth," said George, comfortably. 
 
 " When you and Alice were first married, would 
 you have appreciated a much older sister always 
 around ? " queried Ruth, laughing. 
 
 " Well — no — but you must have a home 
 somewhere, and you have always been here." 
 
 " It is better for Helen to begin with a free 
 hand. The workpeople would not understand 
 
HOW THE MANTLE FELL 259 
 
 that the old mistress has abdicated, so I am better 
 away." 
 
 " Then come and live with us, Ruth," said 
 Hetty, the eldest sister, plaintively. " The 
 children are always so good with you, and it 
 would be such a relief to me." Ruth knew that 
 Hetty's nature was to shirk every duty that 
 anyone else would take. She was fond of her 
 nephews and nieces, but declined the post of 
 unpaid mother's help. 
 
 " I wish you would come and live with me," 
 said Mary Weston, who preferred to be called 
 Marie. " In Kensington there it always some- 
 thing going on, and you would soon shake off 
 your North Country ways." 
 
 Ruth laughed merrily. " I prefer North 
 Country ways. You would have me perpetually 
 chanting, ' The oak, and the ash, and the bonny 
 ivy tree,' until you were glad to send me home, 
 where I belong ! No, thank you, Pollie dear — I 
 beg your pardon — Marie ; I could not settle in 
 London, although I hope to pay each of you a 
 good visit when Helen comes home, and later in 
 the summer to visit our Irish cousins." 
 
 " And then, what do you intend to do ? " 
 
 " I mean to settle in Braxstead, in Persis Bell's 
 rooms." There was a chorus of disapproval : " To 
 live alone," " over a shop," " in that noisy town," 
 "it looks as if you had quarrelled with us all." 
 
26o THE TIME OF HER LIFE 
 
 Ruth said nothing, till quiet John Watson 
 spoke decidedly : " Surely Ruth is entitled to live 
 her own life. She has always been at some one's 
 beck and call, let her now make her own choice. 
 I know," he said, kindly, " that she will be sure 
 to find ways of helping those around her wherever 
 she is. 
 
 » 
 
 So Ruth was left in peace, and when the newly- 
 married pair returned, and Helen was duly 
 installed, she paid her round of visits and enjoyed 
 the whole of Yearly Meeting, which she had not 
 been at liberty to attend since she was quite a 
 young girl. When autumn came she settled 
 happily in her new home, finding independence 
 sweet. Under her clever touch the rooms looked 
 tasteful and homelike, and many came there as 
 to a haven of rest, as in their former owner's 
 time. 
 
 Ruth was too wise to attempt to take up all 
 Persis Bell's activities, knowing her own limita- 
 tions, and that no two are called to precisely the 
 same line of service, but she helped Mrs. Stephen 
 Bell with the large Mother's Meeting, and the 
 Band of Hope and Junior Sunday School soon 
 blossomed under her hands, for Ruth loved 
 children, and had the gift of happy management. 
 
 Her rooms were near Braxstead Meeting House, 
 and every effort for good carried on there had 
 her warmest support. 
 
HOW THE MANTLE FELL 261 
 
 Talents grew with faithful using, and to-day, 
 on Monthly Meeting day, a sweet-faced, elderly 
 minister may be seen sitting in the very seat 
 which was left vacant for Persis BeU, thirty or 
 forty years ago. 
 
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