I.I H 1 1 A R ^ or THK Theological Seminary, PRINCETON. N. J. BV 4515 .R5 1847 Richmond, Legh, 1772-1827 Annals of the poor *>l/W#C,. dMiu^' cA •♦•a^/J^t, ■^"y^Z^^y ^-i^- ^. .;^ ANNALS OF THE POOR CONTAINING THE DAIRYMA:V S DAUGHTER ; '" THE YOUXG COTTAGER :" THE NEGRO SERVANT," ETC. BY LEGH RICHMOND, A.M. A NEW EDITION, ENLARGED, WITH AN INTRODUCTORY, SKETCH OF THE AUTHOR, BY JOHN AYRE, A.M. DOMESTIC- CHAPLAIN TO THE EARL OF RODEN. • Thou, O God, hast prepared of thy goodness for the Poor." Psalm Ixviii., 10 NEW YORK: ROBERT CARTER, 58 CANAL STREET. PITTSBURG, 56 MARKET STREET. 1S47. ROBERT CRAIQIIKAD, PRINTER. 112 rULTON STREET CONTENTS, Paffe. Introduction ^ The Dairyman's Daughter .... 19 The Negro Servant .... 123 The Young Cottager .... 157 The Cottage Conversation . > 227 A Visit to the Infirmary . • 233 TO WILLIAM WILBERFORCE, ESQ. I'HJS LITTLE WORK DESIGNED TO BEAR A TESTIMONY, DRAWN FROM REAT- FACTS AND OCCURRENCES, TO THE INFINITE VALUE OF CHRISTIAN TRUTH, When received in the Heart and exemplified in the Conduct, IS DEDICATED, A.S A TOKKN OF GRATEFUL AND AFFECTIONATE REGARD, WHICH THF AUTHOR ENTERTAINS TOWARDS A CHARACTER SO LONG AND JUSTLY APPROVED, AS THE FAITHFUL MONITOR OF THE RICH, THE TRIED FRIEND OF THE POOR, THE UNWEARIED SUPPORTER OF RELIGION, AND THE ACKNOWLEDGED BENEFACTOR OF MANKIND. Let not Aaibiticn mock tbcir useful toil, Their homely joys, and destiny obscure : Nor Grandeur hear, with a disdainful smile, The short but simple annals of the poor. Gray INTRODUCTION. It has been thought that an enlarged edition of the "Annals of the Poor" might not be unacceptable to the public, and that a brief sketch of the Author's life might with advantage be appended. It has fallen to my lot to superintend such a publication. The " Dairyman's Daughter" is enlarged with a num- ber of letters, &c., written by herself to her relatives. The originals of these have been preserved in the Author's possession. There are also added two letters addressed to her by the Author. I have judged it expedient not to interrupt the course of the narrative, and have therefore thrown together the additional matter in the form of an appendix. The " Young Cottager" and the " Negro Servant" are reprinted, without alteration, from the last edition. Two little pieces from Mr. Richmond's pen, inserted in the first volume of the Christian Guardian, now for the first time accompany his larger tracts. They are entitled *' The Cottage Conversation," and " A V; sit to the In- firmary." 8 INTRODUCTION. I have a melancholy satisfaction in sketching the life of my lamented father-in-law, and I willingly emhrace the opportunity of aflectionately paying a public tribute to the memory of one so valued and beloved. I purposely refrain from intruding into the province of the biographer. My aim is only to catch two or three more prominent features of his character, introducing just so much of narration as may serve to render my observations intelligible. Legh Richmond was born at Liverpool, Jan. 29, 1772. He was the eldest child of Dr. Henry Richmond, the de- scendant of an ancient and honorable family. A remark- able casualty befell him in his childhood, from the effects of which he never recovered. At a very early age, in leaping from a wall, he contracted an injury in his left leg, which issued in incurable lameness. It is somewhat singular that an accident nearly similar occurred to a younger brother, and also to his second son. Each of them, in infancy, fell from an open window. The former was killed, and the latter was ever after afflicted in the same limb with the same kind of lameness as his father. After a private preparatory education, Legh Richmond was admitted a member of Trinity College, Cambridge. While an under-graduate, he pursued his studies with a talent and a zeal which gave fair promise that the highest honors of his year were not beyond his reach. These hopes were however blighted by a severe illness, which was partly owing to his anxious and unremitted applica- tion. Precluded, by this cause, from engaging in the honorable contention of the senate-house, he received what is academically termed an aegrotat degree : commencing B. A. in 1794 : and with some intermissions he resided in the unirersity three years longer. INTRODUCTION. 9 We are now to view Mr. Richmond in a totally difterent character. In the summer of 1797, he became, within the space of a very weeks, (to borrow his ov/n words,) " aca- demically a master of arts, domestically a husband, pa- rochially a deacon." He had been originally destined to the law ; but having imbibed a distaste for that profession, his attention was subsequently directed to the church, and he was now admitted to the sacred office. Brading, a secluded village in the Isle of Wight, was the scene of his earliest pastoral labors. He was ordained to the curacy of this place and the little adjoining village of Yaverland ; and in Yaverland church he delivered his first sermon. These scenes will long be dear to Christian remembrance. Lovely in themselves, and consecrated by the pen of Legh Richmond, they will be viewed with no ordinary feelings : and he who disdains not the " simple annals of the poor," while he treads the sod which covers "little Jane," or visits the lowly cottage of the " Dairyman," will not fail to glorify God for those who here have slept in Jesus, and "though dead, yet speak." At the time of his ordination, Mr. Richmond saw little of the magnitude of that work in which he was engaging. As yet, he was himself but little acquainted with the things of God, and was therefore little qualified to become the spiritual instructor of others. His habits of life were decorous and exemplary, his pulpit compositions interest- ing and moral, but as yet he was little imbued with the spirit of vital godliness. This man, however, (may it not be said 'f) was " a chosen vessel to the Lord." Ere many months elapsed, a complete revolution was effected in his religious sentiments. This is, under God, mainly to be ascribed to the perusal of Mr. Wilberforce's " Practical 10 INTRODUCTION. View of Christianity." He now, with enlightened under- standing and decisive zeal, set himself to " do the work of an evangelist." Not only was he in the pulpit, instant in " preaching the word," but he was also to be found with his pastoral admonitions in the dwellings of his flock, and could descend, with sweet and winning gentleness, to "feed his lambs." The fruit of his labors was speedily apparent. " Little Jane" was the first flower which bloom- ed from the good seed he was sowing. The circumstances attendant upon his intercourse with the subjects of the Annals will be found narrated in the several tracts. I only observe in this place, that " little Jane" died January .30, 1799, in her fifteenth year ; that the conversations with the " Negro Servant" were held during the summer of 1803, and that the death of the " Dairyman's Daughter" took place May 30, 1801 : her age was thirty-one. After a residence of about seven years in the Isle of Wight, where his labors had been evidently and largely blessed, Mr. Richmond removed to London. He was here to take a share in the duties of the Lock chapel. The very first sermon he delivered from the pulpit of this place was, there is every reason to believe, under God's bless- ing, the instrumental means of effecting a saving change in the heart of, at least, one individual. Scarcely, however, was he well settled in this new scene, when the good providence of God removed him to the rectory of Turvey, Bedfordshire. He was presented to this living by Miss Fuller, in 1805. Long will the name of Richmond be venerated at Tur- vey ; long will the savor of his affectionate ministrations abide in the hearts of his mourning flock. A singular INTEODUCTION. 11 blessing still attended him. From the earliest to literally the latest, his preaching was visibly " in demonstration of the Spirit and of power." It was during his residence at Turvey, that most of Mr. Richmond's publications were undertaken. He had pre- viously printed two or three single sermons ;* but it was at Turvey that his great work, " The Fathers of the Eng- lish Church," was carried on. For the superintendence of this important undertaking he was eminently qualified. Accident, or I would rather say, a remarkable providence, had, in the first instance, introduced him, while in the Isle of Wight, to the writings of our earlier and greatest theo- logians ; and the study of them he had ever since zeal- ously prosecuted. To a familiar acquaintance with the works of these divines, Mr. Richmond united the greatest impartiality and judgment in forming his selections. His work therefore presents, in a comparatively small com- pass, a large proportion of the most valuable of the re- mains of our martyrs and confessors. It is not perhaps too much to say, that it has been mainly instrumental in awakening to the reformers that attention and interest with which they are now increasingly regarded*. It was during his residence at Turvey also that Mr. Richmond drew up the narratives which are contained in the present volume. They were originally (in substance) inserted in the earlier numbers of the Christian Guardian. Having here attracted considerable attention, they were then published in the form of separate tracts, and after- * These were, a Fast-day Sermon, and one On the Close of the Year, preached at Braduig ; and a Sermon on Cruelty to the Brute Creation, deliv- ered at Bath. 12 INTRODUCTION. ward, with considerable augmentations, in the first edition of this volume. It may appear perhaps unnecessary to pronounce an opinion on productions which have been circulated by millions, and translated into twenty languages ; and which, in a multitude of well-authenticated instances, have been, by the blessing of God, signally effective of good. I can- not, however, forbear to say, that in Legh Richmond's writings, more than in those of perhaps any other author, you behold the character of the man. His beautiful sim- plicity, his lively imagination, his tenderness of feeling, his devoted piety, were the characteristics of the man which enshrined him in the affections of all who knew him. And who can read a page of his Annals, and not re- cognise in those interesting narratives, the same simple plainness, the same glowing fancy, the same touching pa- thos, the same ardent piety 1 In sketching his villagers, he has unconsciously delineated himself. He admits us to his retirement and meditations, shows us his hopes and fears, and presents us with all the secret workings of his soul. We admire the gifted minister of God, who, in the deep 'humility of his spirit, disdained not to listen to the voice of admonition, though it reached him from the lowly cottage ; we cannot withhold our affection from the man. If I were called on to say which of the narratives I pre- fer, I should, most probably, be inclined to fix on that of the " Young Cottager." There is something, in my judg- ment, irresistibly engaging in the character and history of that simple girl. I can venerate the high and exalted piety of the "Dairyman's Daughter," who, with a mascuhne strength of understanding, had ever her word of counsel INTRODUCTION. IS even for the minister: but I love the little, backwa/d, neglected, retiring child, who starts forth at once in all the moral beauty of Christian attainment. There is something too in the condition of Jane, which seems especially to call for our sympathy. The Dairyman's Daughter was con- stantly surrounned by a circle of affectionate relatives, who regarded her with reverence and love ; while Jane's religion was, at best, little appreciated, often despised and ridiculed by her family, and her last hours were disturbed by sounds of blasphemy, proceeding from a parent. Many of the incidents also of this tale might be appealed to as conferring upon it a peculiar interest. The scene, for ex- ample, where Mr. Richmond, on his first visit to her, while speaking of the good news of the Gospel, inquires, " Who brings this good news]" and is answered, " Sir, you brought it to me ;" I know not who can read unmoved. Her part- ing benediction too — " God bless and reward you !" — ^when with an unexpected exertion she threw her arms around him and expired — is inexpressibly affecting. I close what I have to say on the subject of these tracts, by adding, that a few years ago, two grave-stones were erected in the churchyards of Arreton and Brading respec- tively, to the memory of the " Dairyman's Daughter," and the " Young Cottager." On the former are inscribed the following lines, the composition of a lady. " Stranger ! if e'er by chance or feeling led, Upon tJbis hallowed turf thy footsteps tread, Turn from the contemplation of the sod, And think on her whose spirit rests with CSod Lowly her lot on earth,— but He who bore Tidings of grace and blessings to the poor, 2 14 INTRODUCTION. Gave her, his truth and faithfuhiess to prove. The choicest treasures of his boundless love : Faith, that dispell'd affliction's darkest gloom ; Hope, that could cheer the passage to the tomb; Peace, that not Hell's dark legion could destroy; And love, that fill'd the soul with heavenly joy. Death of its sting disarm'd, she knew no fear, But tasted heaven, e'en while she linger'd here. Oh ! happy saint I — may we like thee be blest ; In life be faiUiful, and in death find rest!" The following epitaph is from Mr. Richmond's pen. " Ye who delight the power of God to trace, And mark with joy each monument of grace, Tread lightly o'er this grave, as you explore ' The short and simple annals of the poor.' > A child reposes underneath this sod, A child to memory dear, and dear to God: Rejoice, yet shed the sympathetic tear, Jane, ' the Young Cottager,' lies buried here." During his residence at Turvey, Mr. Richmond became extendedly known to the public as the cordial friend, and real advocate of the different religious societies, which have within the last thirty years grown up among us. His persuasive and pathetic eloquence in the pulpit or on the platform, when awaking Christian sympathy in behalf of the idolatrous Gentile, or the unbelieving Jew, will not be readily forgotten by the multitudes who have, so often, delighted and instructed, hung upon his lips. I believe his earliest appearance in this character, was on the ninth anniversary of the Church Missionary Society, before whom he was appointed, in 1809, to preach their annual sermon. This sermon may be appealed to as a fair and characteristic specimen of his powers in the pulpit ; though INTRODCJCTION. 15 I must be allowed oO say, that his flowing- and harmo- nious language, his graceful delivery, and sweet expres- sion of features, beaming with love to God and good-will to men, imparted a charm which the mere reader of a printed sermon can by no means duly appreciate. His preaching, for a long series of years, was altogether extemporaneous. His ready utterance, his exuberant fancy, his aptness of illustration, his deep knowledge of divine things, rendered his sermons always interesting and useful. Perhaps he did not, upon common occasions, allow himself sufficient previous study ; but if this were his fault, he acted upon principle. "Why," he would often say, "why need I labor, when our simple villagers are far more usefully instructed in my plain, easy, familiar manner ] The only result would be, that I should ad- dress them in a style beyond their comprehension." His appearance on the platform of a public meeting was universally hailed with pleasure. His ready adaptation of passing incidents, the suavity of his addresses, sometimes solemn, sometimes even jocose, interspersed with interest- ing narratives, which he could so well relate, deservedly placed him high in public esteem. I ought, perhaps, to state, that in 1814, Mr. Richmond was appointed chaplain to the late Duke of Kent, by whom he was honored with a share of his Royal Highness's friendship. In 1817, Mr. R. was presented by the late Emperor Alexander of Russia, with a splendid ring, as a testimony of the approbation with which his Imperial Ma- jesty viewed the narratives in this volume. Many peaceful years were passed at Turvey. Happy in the bosom of his family, no man more excelled as a pat- tern of domestic virtues, than Legh Richmond. 16 INTRODUCTION. At length, in 1825, Mr. R.'s domestic happiness sus- tained a severe blow by the death of his second son, a youth in his nineteenth year. For this beloved child, he had fostered many a fond hope and anxious expectation, and beheld with all a father's joy, " non flosculos — sed jam certos atque deformatos fructus." This fair flower was withered by consumption, and the bereaved parent, though he submitted as a Christian, yet sorrowed as a man. In a few short months the stroke was repeated. Intelligence arrived that his eldest son, who had been ab- sent many years, had died on his voyage from India to England. These afflictive dispensations had a "marked and peculiar effect upon Legh Richmond. He who used to be the life of the domestic and social circle, would now be silent and abstracted : yet it was not the morbid gloom of a repining heart, it was rather the solemnity of conviction that he should ere long rejoin his lamented children. His bodily health, too, seemed in some measure decaying. His mul- titude of pastoral duties were too heavy for his strength. For the last twelve months of his life he was troubled with an irritating cough, which seemed to indicate an affection of the lungs. At length, (March, 1827,) he contracted a violent cold, which issued in pleurisy ; from which, how- ever, he shortly appeared to be recovering. During all this time, when certainly no immediate danger was ap- prehended, he was peacefully and quietly setting his house in order. To his family he knew the idea of separation would be agony: he therefore scarcely hinted to them what he felt was nigh at hand : but to a clerical friend, he, in striking words, professed that simple reliance on the atonement of Christ, which alone can cheer and sup- INTRODUCTION. 17 port the soul in the hour of dissolution. It soon became evident to those around him, that the flood of life was ebbing calmly, yet fast: and at last, (May 8,) without pain or struggle, the ready spirit sweetly and softly pass- ed from her tenement — and Legh Richmond slept in Jesus. Farewell, dear friend and father ! Very pleasant were the hours and years of our communion : but they are passed away, and the savor only, sad yet sweet, remains. "Farewell, dear friend, till the morning of an eternal day renew our personal intercourse !" May I meet thee in a better world. I cannot but connect the closing hours of my beloved friend, with that affecting prayer which he has breathed in the Young Cottager, (Part IV.) He had been describ- ing the useful course and peaceful termination of a little rivulet, which glides through a very lovely glen, by which he was meditating. " May my course be like unto thine, thou little rivulet ! Though short be my span of life, yet may I be useful to my fellow-sinners as I travel onward ! Let me be a dispenser of spiritual support and health to many ! Like this stream, may I prove the poor man's friend by the way, and water the souls that thirst for the river of life, wherever I meet them ! And if it pleases thee, O my God, let me in my latter end be like this brook ! It calmly, though not quite silently, flows through this scene of peace and loveliness, just before it enters the sea. Let me thus gently close my days likewise ; and may I not unusefully tell to others of the goodness and mercy of my Saviour, till I arrive at the vast ocean of eternity." That prayer was surely answered. He did tell to men, 3* 18 INTRODUCTION. with abundant blessing, of the goodness and mercy of hie Saviour : he did thus gently close his days. Soldier of Christ, well done ! Praise be tliy new employ ; And while eternal ages run, Rest in tliy Saviour's joy. J A. Islington. Feb. 21st, 1828. THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. PART I. It is a delightful employment to discover and trace the operations of divine grace, as they are manifested in the dispositions and lives of God's real children. It is pecu- liarly gratifying to observe how frequently, among the poorer classes of mankind, the sunshine of mercy beams upon the heart, and bears witness to the image of Christ which the Spirit of God has impressed thereupon. Among Buch, the sincerity and simplicity of the Christian charac- ter appear unencumbered by those obstacles to spirituality of mind and conversation, which too often paove a great hindrance to those who live in the higher ranks. Many are the difficulties which riches, worldly consequence, high connections, and the luxuriant refinements of polished so- ciety, throw in the way of religious profession. Happy indeed it is (and some such happy instances I know) where grace has so strikingly supported its conflict with natural pride, self-importance, the allurements of luxury, ease, and worldly opinion, that the n'jble and mighty appear 20 THE DAIEYMAN's DAUGHTER. adorned with genuine poverty of spirit, self-denial, humble mindedness, and deep spirituality of heart. But, in general, if we want to see religion in its most eimple and pure character, we must look for it among the poor of this world, who are rich in faith. How often is the poor man's cottage the palace of God ! Many can truly declare, that they have there learned the most valu- able lessons of faith and hope, and there witnessed the most striking demonstrations of the wisdom, pov/er, and goodness of God. The character which the present narrative is designed to introduce to the notice of my readers, is given from real life and circumstance. I first became acquainted with her by receiving the following letter, which I transcribe from the original now before me. " Rev. Sir, " I take the liberty to write to you. Pray ex- cuse me, for I have never spoken to you. But I once heard you when you preached at church. I believe you are a faithful preacher to warn sinners to flee from the wrath that will be revealed against all those that live in sin, and die impenitent. Pray go on in the strength of the Lord. And may he bless you, and crown your labor of love with success, and g'lwe you souls for your hire ! " The Lord has promised to be with those whom he calls and sends forth to preach his word to the end of time ; for without him we can do nothing. I was much rejoiced to hear of those marks of love and aflfection to that poor sol- dier of the S. D. militia. Surely the love of Christ sent you to that poor man : may that love ever dwell richly in you by faith ! may it constrain you to seek the w^andering THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 21 souls of men with the fervent desire to spend and be spent for his glory ! May the unction of the Holy Spirit attend the word spoken by you with power, and convey deep con- viction to the hearts of your hearers ! May many of them experience the divine change of being made new creatures in Christ ! " Sir, be fervent in prayer with God for the conversion of sinners. His power is great, and who can withstand it 1 He has promised to answer the prayer of faith, that is put up in his Son's name. ' Ask what ye will, it shall be granted you.' How this should strengthen our faith when we are taught by the word and the Spirit how to pray ! O that sweet inspiring hope ; how it lifts up the fainting spirits, when we look over the precious promises of God ! What a mercy if we know Christ and the power of his resurrection in our own hearts ! Through faith in Christ we rejoice in hope, and look up in expectation of that time drawing near, when all shall know and fear the Lord, and when a nation shall be born in a day. "What a happy time, when Christ's kingdom shall come ! then shall ' his will be done on earth, as it is in heaven.' Men shall be daily fed with the manna of his love, and delight themselves in the Lord all the day long. Then what a paradise below will they enjoy ! How it animates and enlivens my soul with vigor to pursue the ways of God, that I may even now bear some humble part in giving glory to God and the Lamb ! " Sir, I began to write this on Sunday, being detained from attending on public worship. My dear and only sis- ter, living as a servant with Mrs. , was so ill, that I came here to attend in her place and on her. But now she is no more. 22 THE dairyman's daughter. " I was going to entreat you to write to her in answer to this ; she being convinced of the evil of her past life, and that she had not walked in the ways of God, nor sought to please him. But she earnestly desired to do so. This makes me have a comfortable liope that she is gone to glory, and that she is now joining in sweet concert with the angelic host in heaven to sing the wonders of redeem- ing love. I hope I may now write, ' Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord.' " She expressed a desire to receive the Lord's Supper, and commemorate his precious death and sufferings. I told her, as well as I was able, what it was to receive Christ into her heart ; but as her wea'kness of body in- creased, she did not mention it again. She seemed quite resigned before she died. I do hope she is gone from a world of death and sin to be with God for ever. " Sir, I hope you will not be offended with me, a poor ignorant person, to take such a liberty as to write to you. But I trust, as you are called to instruct sinners in the ways of God, you will bear with me, and be so kind to answer this ill- wrote letter, and give me some instructions. It is my heart's desire to have the mind that was in Christ, that when I awake up in his likeness then I may be satisfied. " My sister expressed a wish that you might bury her. The minister of our parish, whither she will be carried, can- not come. She will lie at . She died on Tuesday morning, and will be buried on Friday or Saturday (which- ever is most convenient to you) at three o'clock in the afternoon. Please to send an answer by the bearer, to let me know whether you can comply with this request. " From your unworthy servant, "Elizabeth W ." THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 23 I was much struck with the simple and earnest strain of devotion which this letter breathed. It was but indif- ferently written and spelt. But this the rather tended to endear the hitherto unknown writer, as it seemed charac- teristic of the union of humbleness of station with emi- nence of piety. I felt quite thankful that 1 was favored with a correspondent of this description ; the more so, as such characters were at that time very rare in the neigh- borhood. I have often wished that epistolary intercourse of this kind was more encouraged and practised among us. I have the greatest reason to speak well of its effects both on myself and others. Communication by letter as well as by conversation with the pious poor, has often been the instrument of animating and reviving my ov/n heart in the midst of duty, and of giving me the most profitable information for the general conduct of the ministerial office. As soon as the letter was read, I inquired who was the bearer of it. " He is waiting at the outside of the gate, sir," was the reply. I went out to speak to him, and saw a venerable old man, whose long hoary hair and deeply-wrinkled counte- nance commanded more than common respect. He was resting his arm upon the gate, and tears were streaming down his cheeks. On my approach he made a low bow, and said, " Sir, I have brought you a letter from my daughter ; but I fear you will think us very bold in asking you to take so much trouble." "By no means," I replied; "I shall be truly glad to oblige you and any of your family in this matter, pro- vided it be quite agreeable to the minister of your parish." 24 THE dairyman's daughter. "Sir, he told me yesterday, that he should be very glad if I could procure some gentleman to come and bury my poor child for him, as he lives five miles off, and has par- ticular business on that day : so when I told my daughter, she asked me to come to you, sir, and bring that letter, which would explain the matter." I desired him to come into the house, and then said, " What is your occupation ?" " Sir, I have lived most of my days in a little cottage at , six miles from here. I have rented a few acres of ground, and kept some cows, which, in addition to my day-labor, has been the means of supporting and bringing up my family." " What family have you ]" "A wife, now getting very aged and helpless, two sons, and one daughter ; for my other poor dear child is just departed out of this wicked world." " I hope for a better." " I hope so too ; poor thing, she did not use to take to such good ways as her sister ; but I do believe that her sister's manner of talking with her before she died was the means of saving her soul. What a mercy it is to have such a child as mine is ! I never thought about my own soul seriously till she, poor girl, begged me to flee from the wrath to come." " How old are you V " Near seventy, and my wife is older , we are gettmg old and almost past our labor, but our daughter has left a good place, where she lived in service, on purpose to come home and take care of us and our little dairy. And a dear, dutiful, affectionate girl she is." " Was she always so?" THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 25 " No, sir ; when she was very young, she was all for the world, and pleasure, and dress, and company. Indeed, we were all very ignorant, and thought if we took care for this life, and wronged nobody, we should be sure to go to heaven at last. My daughters were both wilful, and, like ourselves, strangers to the ways of God and the word of his grace. But the eldest of them went out to service, and some years ago, she heard a sermon preached at church, by a gentleman that was going to , as chap- lain to the colony, and from that time she seemed quite another creature. She began to read the Bible, and be- came sober and steady. The first time she returned home afterward to see us, she brought us a guinea which she had saved from her wages, and said,, as we were getting old, she was sure we should want help ; adding, that she did not wish to , spend it in fine clothes, as she used to do, only to feed pride and vanity. She said she would rather show gratitude to her dear fa- ther and mother, because Christ had shown such mercy to her. " We wondered to hear her talk, and took great delight m her company; for her temper and behavior were so humble and kind, she seemed so desirous to do us good both in soul and body, and was so difierent from what we had ever seen her before, that, careless and ignorant as we had been, we began to think there must be something real in religion, or it never could alter a person so much in a little time. " Her youngest sister, poor soul ! used to laugh and ridicule her at that time, and said her head was turned with her new ways. ' No, sister,' she would say, ' not my headt but I hope my heart is turned from the love of sin 26 THE dairyman's daughter. to the love of God. I wish you may one day see, ae I do, the danger and vanity of your present condition.' " Her poor sister would reply, ' I do not want to hear any of your preaching ; I am no worse than other people, and that is enough for me.' — 'Well, sister,' Elizabeth would say, ' if you will not hear me, you cannot hinder me from praying for you, which I do with all my heart.' "And now, sir, I believe those prayers are answered. For when her sister was taken ill, Elizabeth went to Mrs. 's to wait in her place, and take care of her. She said a great deal to her about her soul, and the poor girl began to be so deeply affected, and sensible of her past sin, and so thankful for her sister's kind behavior, that it gave her great hopes indeed for her sake. When my wife and I went to see her as she lay sick, she told us how grieved and ashamed she was of her past life ; but said, she had a hope through grace that her dear sister's Saviour would be her Saviour too ; for she saw her own sinfulness, felt her own helplessness, and only wished to cast herself upon Christ as her hope and salvation. "And now, sir, she is gone, and I hope and think her sister's prayers for her conversion to God have been answered. The Lord grant the same for her poor father and mothe^r's sake likewise !" This conversation was a very pleasing commentary upon the letter which I had received, and made me anx- ious both to comply with the request, and to become acquainted with the writer. I promised the good Dairy- man to attend on the Friday at the appointed hour ; and after some more conversation respecting his own state of mind under the present trial, he went away. He was a reverend old man ; his furrowed cheeks, THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 27 white locks, weeping eyes, bent shoulders, and feeble gait, were characteristic of the aged pilgrim. As he slowly walk- ed onward, supported by a stick, which seemed to have been the companion of many a long year, a train of reflec- tions occurred, which I retrace with pleasure and emotion. At the appointed hour I arrived at the church ; and ^fter a little while, was summoned to the churchyard gate to meet the funeral procession. The aged parents, the elder brother, and the sister, with other relatives, formed an affecting group ! I was struck with the humble, pious, and pleasing countenance of the young woman from whom I had received the letter. It bore the marks of great seriousness without affectation, and of much serenity mingled with a glow of devotion. A circumstance occurred during the reading of the Burial Service, which I think it right to mention, as one among many testimonies of the solemn and impressive tendency of our truly evangelical Liturgy. A man of the village, who had hitherto been of a very careless and even profligate character, went into the church through mere curiosity, and with no better purpose than that of vacantly gazing at the ceremony. He came likewise to the grave, and during the reading of those prayers which are appointed for that part of the service, his mind received a deep, serious conviction of his sin and spiritual danger. It was an impression that never wore off", but gradually ripened into the most satisfactory evi- dence of an entire change, of which I had many and long-continued proofs. He always referred to the Burial Service, and to some particular sentences of it, as the clearly ascertained instrument of bringing him, through grace, to the knowledge of the truth. 28 THE DAIRYiMAN's DAUGHTER. The day was therefore one to be remembernd. Re- membered let it be by those who love to hear " the short and simple annals of the poor." Was there not a manifest and happy connection between the circumstances that providentially brought the serious and the careless to the same grave on that day together 1 How much do they lose who neglect to trace the leadings of God in providence, as links in the chain of his eternal purpose of redemption and grace ! «' While Infidels may scoff, let us adore !" After the service was concluded, I had a short conver- sation with the good old couple and their daughter. She told me that she intended to remain a week or two at the gentleman's house where her sister died, till another servant should arrive and take her sister's place. " I shall be truly obliged," said she, " by an opportunity of conversing with you, either there or at my father's, when I return home, which will be in the course of a fortnight at the farthest. I shall be glad to talk to you about my sister, whom you have just buried." Her aspect and address were highly interesting. I promised to see her very soon ; and then returned home, quietly reflecting on the circumstances of the funeral at which I had been engaged. I blessed the God of the poor, and pcayed that the poor might become rich in faith, and the rich be made poor in spirit. THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 39 PART II. A SWEET solemnity often possesses the mind, whilst retracing past intercourse with departed friends. How much is this increased, when they were such as lived and died in the Lord ! The remembrance of former scenes and conversations with those who, we believe, are now en- joying the uninterrupted happiness of a better world, fills the heart with pleasing sadness, and animates the soul with the hopeful anticipation of a day when the glory of the Lord shall be revealed in the assembling of all his children together, never more to be separated. Whether they were rich or poor, while on earth, is a matter of trifling consequence : the valuable part of their charac- ter is, that they are kings and priests unto God, and this is their true nobility. In the number of now departed be- lievers, with whom I once loved to converse on the grace and glory of the kingdom of God, was the Dairyman's Daughter. About a week after the funeral, I went to visit the family at , in whose service the youngest sister had lived and died, and where Elizabeth was requested to re- main for a short time in her stead. The house was a large and venerable mansion. It stood in a beautiful valley at the foot of a high hill. It was em- bowered in fine woods, which were interspersed in every direction with rising, falling, and swelling grounds. The manor-house had evidently descended through a long line of ancestry, from a distant period of time. The Gothic character of its original architecture was still preserved 3% 30 THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. in the latticed windows, adorned with carved di\ is ions and pillars of stonework. Several pointed terminations also, in the construction of the roof, according to the custom of our forefathers, fully corresponded with the general fea- tures of the building. One end of the house was entirely clothed with the thick foliage of an immense ivy, which climbed beyond cus- tomary limits, and embraced a lofty chimney up to its very summit. Such a tree seemed congenial to the walls that supported it, and conspired with the antique fashion of the place to carry imagination back to the days of our ances- tors. As I approached, I was led to reflect on the lapse of ages, and the successive generations of men, each in their turn occupying lands, houses, and domains ; each in their turn also disappearing, and leaving their inheritance to be enjoyed by others. David once observed the same, and cried out, " Behold, thou hast made my days as a hand- breadth, and mine age is as nothing before thee : verily, every man at his best estate is altogether vanity. Surely every man walketh in a vain show ; surely they are dis- quieted in vain : he heapeth up riches^and cannot tell who shall gather them." Happy would it be for the rich, if they more frequently meditated on the uncertainty of all their possessions, and the frail nature 'of every earthly tenure. " Their inward thought is, that their houses shall continue for ever, and their dwelling-places to all generations ; they call their lands after their own names. Nevertheless, man, being in honor, abideth not ; he is like the beasts that parish. This their way is their folly ; yet their posterity approve their say- ings. Like sheep, they are laid in the grave : death shall THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 31 feed on them : and their beauty shall consume in the grave from their dwelling." As I advanced to the mansion, a pleasing kind of gloom overspread the front : it was occasioned by the shade of trees, and gave a characteristic effect to the ancient fabric. I instantly recollected that death had very recently visited the house, and that one of its present ijihabitants was an affectionate mourner for a departed sister. There is a solemnity in the thought of a recent death, which will associate itself with the very walls from whence we are conscious that a soul has just taken its flight to eternity. After passing some time in conversation with the supe- riors of the family, in the course of which I was much gratified by hearing of the unremitted attention which the elder sister had paid to the younger, during the illness of the latter ; I received likewise other testimonies of the excellency of her general character and conduct in the house : I then took leave, requesting permission to see her, agreeably to the promise I had made at the funeral, not many days before. I was shown into a parlor, where I found her alone. She was in deep mourning. She had a calmness and serenity in her countenance, which exceedingly struck me, and impressed some idea of those attainments which a further acquaintance with her afterward so much in- creased. She spoKe of her sister. I had the satisfaction of find. ing that she had given very hopeful proofs of a change of heart, before she died. The prayers and earnest exhorta- tions of Elizabeth had been blessed to a happy effect. She described what had passed with such a mixture of sisterly 32 THE dairyman's daughter. affection, and pious dependence on the mercy of God to sinners, as convinced me that her own heart was under the influence of "pure and undefiled religion." She requested leave occasionally to correspond with me on serious subjects, stating that she needed much instruc- tion. She hoped I would pardon the liberty which she had taken by introducing herself to my notice. She ex- pressed a trust that the Lord would overrule both the death of her sister, and the personal acquaintance with me that resulted from it, to a present and future good, as it respected herself and also her parents, with whom she statedly lived, and to whom she expected to return in a few days. Finding that she was wanted in some household duty, I did not remain long w^th her ; but left her with an assu- rance that I proposed to visit her parents very shortly. " Sir," said she, " I take it very kind that you have con- descended to leave the company of the rich and converse with the poor. I wish I could have said more to you re- specting my own state of mind. Perhaps I shall be bet- ter able another time. When you next visit me, instead of finding me in these noble walls, you will see me in a poor cottage. But I am happiest when there. Once more, sir, I thank you for your past kindness to me and mine, and may God in many ways bless you for it !" I quitted the house with no small degree of satisfaction, in consequence of the new acquaintance which I had formed. I discovered traces of a cultivated, as well as a spiritual mind. I felt that religious intercourse with those of low estate may be rendered eminently useful to others, whose outward station and advantages are far above their own. THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 33 How often does it appear, that " God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty : and base things of the world, and things which are despised, hath God chosen, and things which are not, to bring to nought things that are ; that no flesh should glory in his presence." It was not unfrequently my custom, when my mind was filled with any interesting subject for meditation, to seek some spot where the beauties of natural prospect might help to form pleasing and useful associations. I therefore ascended gradually to the very summit of the hill adjoin- ing the mansion where my visit had just been made. Here was placed an elevated sea-mark : it was in the form of a triangular pyramid, and built of stone. I sat d.own on the ground near it, and looked at the surrounding prospect, which was distinguished for beauty and magnificence. It was a lofty station, which commanded a complete circle of interesting objects to engage the spectator's attentionr Southward the view was terminated by a long range of hills, at about six miles distance. They met, to the west- ward, another chain of hills, of which the one whereon I sat formed a link, and the whole together nearly encom- passed a rich and fruitful valley, filled with cornfields and pastures. Through this vale winded a small river for many miles : much cattle were feeding on its banks. Here and there lesser eminences arose in the valley ; some covered with wood, others with corn or grass, and a few with heath or fern. One of these little hills was distin- guished by a parish church at the top, presenting a striking feature in the landscape. Another of these elevations, situated in the centre of the valley, was adorned with a venerable holly-tree, which has grown there for ages. Its 34 THE dairyman's daughter. singular height and wide-spreading dimensions not only render it an object of curiosity to the traveller, but of daily usefulness to the pilot, as a mark visible from the sea, whereby to direct his vessel safe into harbor. Vil- lages, churches, country-seats, farm-houses, and cottages, were scattered over every part of the southern valley. In this direction also, at the foot of the hill where I was stationed, appeared the ancient mansion, which I had just quitted, embellished with its woods, groves, and gardens. Southeastward, I saw the open ocean, bounded only by the horizon. The sun shone, and gilded the waves with a glittering light that sparkled in the most brilliant man- ner. More to the east, in continuation of that line of hills where I was placed, rose two downs, one beyond the other ; both covered with sheep, and the sea just visible over the furthest of them, as a terminating boundary. In this point ships were seen, some sailing, others at anchor. Here the little river, which watered the southern valley, finished its course, and ran through meadows into the sea, in an eastward direction. On the north the sea appeared like a noble river, vary- ing from three to seven miles in breadth, between the banks of the opposite coast and those of the island which I inhabited. Immediately underneath me was a fine woody district of country, diversified by many pleasing objects. Distant towns were visible on the opposite shore. Numbers of ships occupied the sheltered station which this northern channel afforded them. The eye roamed with delight over an expanse of near and remote beauties, which alternately caught the observation, and which harmonized together, and produced a scene of pe- culiar interest. THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 35 Westward the hills followed each other, forming several intermediate and partial valleys, in a kind of undulations, like the waves of the sea ; and bending to t!ie south, completed the boundary of the larger valley before de- scribed, to the southward of the hill on which I sat. In many instances the hills were cultivated with corn to their very summits, and seemed to defy the inclemency of weather, which, at these heights, usually renders the ground incapable of bringing forth and ripening the crops of grain. One hill alone, the highest in elevation, and above ten miles to the southwestward, was enveloped in a cloud, which just permitted a dim and hazy sight of a signal-post, a lighthouse, and an ancient chantry, built on its summit. Amidst these numerous specimens of delightful scenery I found a mount for contemplation, and here I indulged it. "How much of the natural beauties of Paradise still remain in the world, although its spiritual character has been so awfully defaced by sin ! But when divine grace renews the heart of the fallen sinner, Paradise is regained, and much of its beauty restored to the soul. As this prospect is compounded of hill and dale, land and sea, woods and plains, all sweetly blended together and re- lieving each other in the landscape ; so do the gracious dispositions wrought in the soul, produce a beauty and harmony of scene to which it was before a stranger." I looked towards the village in the plain below, where the Dairyman's younger daughter was buried. I retraced the simple solemnities of the funeral. I connected the principles and conduct of her sister with the present pro- bably happy state of her soul in the world of spirits, and was greatly impressed with a sense of the importance of 36 THE dairyman's daughter. family influence as a mean of grace. "That youn^ wo- man," I thought, "lias been the conductor of not only a sister, but perhaps a father and mother also, to the true knowledge of God, and may, by divine blessing, become 80 to others. It is a glorious occupation to win souls to Christ, and guide them out of Egyptian bondage through the wilderness into the promised Canaan. Happy are the families who are walking hand in hand together, as pil- grims, towards the heavenly country. May the number of such be daily increased !" Casting my eye over the numerous dwellings in the vales on my right and left, I could not help thinking, " How many of their inhabitants are ignorant of the ways of God, and strangers to his grace ! May this thought stimulate to activity and diligence in the cause of immor- tal souls ! They are precious in God's sight — they ought to be so in ours." Some pointed and affecting observations to that effect recurred to my mind as having been made by the young person with whom I had been just conversing. Her mind appeared to be much impressed with the duty of speaking and acting for God "while it is day;" conscious that the " night cometh, when no man can work." Her laudable anxiety on this head was often testified to me afterward, both by letter and conversation. What she felt herself, in respect to endeavors to do good, she hap- pily communicated to others with whom she corresponded or conversed. Time would not permit my continuing so long in the enjoyment of these meditations on this lovely mount of observation, as my heart desired. On my return home I wrote a few lines to the Dairyman's daughter, chiefly THE DAIEYMAN's DAUGHTER. 37 dictated by the train of thought which had occupied my mind while I sat on the hill. On the next Sunday evening I received her reply, of which the following is a transcript : " Sunday. Rev. Sik, " I am this day deprived of an opportunity of attending the house of God, to worship him. But, glory be to his name ! he is not confined to time nor place. I feel him present with me where I am, and his presence makes my Paradise ; for where he is, is heaven. I pray God that a double portion of his grace- and Holy Spirit may rest upon you this day ; that his blessing may attend all your faith- ful labors ; and that you may find the truth of his Word, assuring us, that wherever we assemble together in his name, there he is in the midst to bless every waiting soul. " How precious are all his promises ! We ought never to doubt the truth of his Word. For he will never deceive us if we go on in faith, always expecting to receive what his goodness waits to give. Dear sir, I have felt it very consoling to read your kind letter to-day. I feel thankful to God for ministers in our church who love and fear his name : there it is where the people in general look for salvation ; and there may they ever find it, for Jesu's sake ! May his Word, spoken by you his chosen vessel of grace, be made spirit and life to their dead souls ! May it come from you as an instrument in the hands of God, as sharp arrows from a strong archer, and strike a death-blow to all their sins ! How I long to see the ar- rows of conviction fasten on the minds of those that are hearers of the Word and not doers ! O sir ! be ambitious for the glory of God and the salvation of souls. It will 4 38 THE dairyman's daughter. add to the lustre of your cr^wn in glory, as well as to your present joy and peace. We should be willing to spend and be spent in his service, saying, ' Lord, may thy uill be done by me on earth, even as it is by thy angels in heaven.' So you may expect to see his face with joy, I nd say, * Here am I, Lord, and all the" souls thou hast given me.' " It seems wonderful that we should neglect any oppor- tunity of doing good, wJ^en there is, if it be done from love to God and his creatures, a present reward of grace, in reflecting that we are using the talents committed to our care according to the power and ability which we receive from him. God requires not what he has not promised to give. But when w^e look back, and reflect that there have been opportunities in which we have neglected to take up our cross and speak and act for God ; what a dejection of mind we feel! We are then justly filled with shame. Conscious of being ashamed of Christ, we cannot come with that holy boldness to a throne of grace, nor feel that free access when we make our supplications. " We are commanded to provoke one another to love and good works ; and where two are agreed together in the things of God, they may say, « And if our fellowship bclo^y In Jesus be so sweet, *"- What heights of rapture shall we know, When round the throne we meet !' " Sir, I hope Mrs. and you are both of one heart and one mind. Then you will sweetly agree in all things that make for your present and eternal happiness. Christ THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 39 sent his disciples out, not singly, but two and two ; that they might comfort and help each other in those ways and works which their Lord commanded them to pursue. "It has been my lot to have been alone the greatest part of the time that I have known the ways of God. I therefore find it such a treat to my soul when I can meet with any who loves to talk of the goodness and love of God, and all his gracious dealings. What a comfortable reflection, to think of spending a whole eternity in that delightful employment! to tell to listening angels his love, 'immense, unsearchable !' "Dear sir, I thank you for your kindness and conde- scension in leaving those that are of high rank and birth in the world, to converse with me who am but a servant here below. But w^hen I consider what a high calling, what honor and dignity God has conferred upon me, to be called his child, to be born of his Spirit, made an heir of glory, and joint heir with Christ ; how humble and cir- cumspect should I be in all my ways, as a dutiful and loving child to an affectionate and loving Father ! When I seriously consider these things, it fills me with love and gratitude to God, and I do not wish for any higher station, nor envy the rich. I rather pity them if they are not good as well as great. My blessed Lord was pleased to appear in the form of a servant ; and I long to be like him. " I did not feel in so happy a frame for conversation that day, nor yet that liberty to explain my thoughts, which I sometimes do. The fault must have been all in myself ; for there was nothing in you but what seemed to evidence a Christian spirit, temper, and disposition. I very much wished for an opportunity to converse with you. I feel very thankful to God that you do take up the cross, and 40 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. despise the shame : if you are found faithful, you wil\ soon sit down with hin\ in glory. " I have written to the Rev. Mr. , to thank him for permitting you to perform the Burial Service, at , over my dear departed sister, and to tell him of the kind way in which you consented to do it. I should mention that your manner of reading the service on that day had a considerable effect on the hearers. " Pray excuse all faults, and correct my errors. I ex- pect in a few days to return home to my parents' house. We shall rejoice to see you there. " From your humble servant in Christ, "E W ." It was impossible to view such a correspondent with indifference. I had just returned from a little cottage as- sembly, where, on Sunday evenings, I sometimes went to instruct a few poor families in one of the hamlets belong- ing to my parish. I read the letter, and closed the day with thanksgiving to God for thus enabling those who fear his name to build up each other in fear and love. Of old time, " they that feared the Lord spake often one to another : and the Lord hearkened and heard it, and a book of remembrance was written before him, for them that feared the Lord, and that thought upon his name." That book of remembrance is not yet closed. THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 41 PART III. The mind of man is like a moving picture, supplied with objects, not only from contemplation on things pre- «3ent, but from the fruitful sources of recollection and anticipation. Memory retraces past events, and restores an ideal reality to scenes which are gone by for ever. They live again in revived imagery, and we seem to hear and see with renewed emotions what we heard and saw at a former period. Successions of such recollected circum- stances often form a series of welcome memorials. In religious meditations the memory becomes a sanctified instrument of spiritual improvement. Another part of this animated picture is furnished by the pencil of Hope. She drav/s encouraging prospects for the soul by connecting the past and present with the future. Seeing the promises afar off, she is persuaded of their truth, and embraces them as her own. The Spirit of God gives a blessing to both these acts of the mind, and employs them in the service of religion. Every faculty of body and soul, when considered as a part of "the purchased possession" of the Saviour, assumes a new character. How powerfully does the Apostle, on this ground, urge a plea for holy activity and watchfulness ! " What ! know ye not that your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost which is in you, which ye have of God, and ye are not your own 1 For ye are bought with a price : therefore glorify God in your body and in your spirit, which are God's." 4* 42 THE djviryman's daughter. The Christian may derive much profit and enjoyment from the use of the memory as it concerns those transac- tions in which he once bore a part. In his endeavors to recall past conversations and intercourse with deceased friends in particular, the powers of remembrance greatly improve by exercise. One revived idea produces another, till the mind is most agreeably and usefully occupied with lively and holy imaginations. " Lull'd in the countless chambers of the brain, Our thoughts are link'd by many a hidden chain ; Awake but one, and lo, what myriads rise! Each stamps its image as the otlier flies ; Each, as the varied avenues of sense Delight or sorrow to the' soul dispense, Brightens or fades: yet all, with sacred art. Control the latent fibres of the heart." May it please God to bless, both to the reader and the writer, this feeble attempt to recollect some of the com- munications which I once enjoyed in my visits to the Dairyman's dwelling ! Very soon after the receipt of the last letter, I rode for the first time t&-see the family at their own house. The principal part of the road lay through retired, narrow lanes, beautifully overarched with groves of nut and other trees, which screened the traveller from the rays of the sun, and afforded many interesting objects for admiration in the flowers, shrubs, and young trees, which grew upon the high banks on each side of the road. Many grotesque rocks, with little trickling streams of water occasionally breaking out of them, varied the recluse scenery, and pro- duced a romantic and pleasing eifect. Here and there the most distant prospect beyond was THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. • 43 observable through gaps and hollow places on the road- side. Lofty hills, with navy signal-posts, obelisks, and lighthouses on their summits, appeared at these intervals : rich cornfields were also visible through some of the open places ; and now and then, when the road ascended a hill, the sea, with ships at various distances, was seen. But for the most part shady seclusion, and objects of a more minute and confined nature, gave a character to the jour- ney, and invited contemplation. How much do they lose who are strangers to serious meditation on the wonders and beauties of nature ! How gloriously the God of creation shines in his works ! Not a tree, or leaf, or flower, not a bird or insect, but it pro- claims in glowing language, " God made me." As I approached the village where the good old Dairy- man dwelt, I observed him in a little field, driving his cows before him towards a yard and hovel which adjoined his cottage. I advanced very near him without his observ- ing me, for his sight was dim. On my calling out to him, he started at the sound of my voice, but with much glad- ness of heart welcomed me, saying — "Bless your heart, sir, I am very glad you are come : wc have looked for you every day this week." The cottage-door opened, and the daughter came out, followed by her aged and infirm mother. The sight of me naturally brought to recollection the grave at which we had before met. Tears of affection mingled with the smile of satisfaction with which I was received by these worthy cottagers. I dismounted, and was conducted through a neat little garden, part of which was shaded by two large overspreading elm-trees, to the house. Decency and order were manifest within and without. No excuse was made 44 THE daiuyman's daughter. here, on the score of poverty, for confusion and unclean- liness in the disposal of their little household. Every thing wore the aspect of neatness and propriety. On each Bide of the fireplace stood an old oaken armchair, where the venerable parents rested their weary limbs after the day's labor was over. On a shelf in one corner lay two Bibles, with a few religious books and tracts. The little room had two windows ; a lovely prospect of hills, woods, and fields, appeared through one ; the other was more than half obscured by the branches of a vine which was trained across it ; between its leaves the sun shone, and cast a cheerful light over the whole place. " This," thought I, " is a fit residence for piety, peace, and contentment. May I learn a fresh lesson for ad- vancement in each through the blessing of God on this visit !" " Sir," said the daughter, " we are not worthy that you should come under our roof. We take it very kind that you should travel so far to see us." " My Master," I replied, " came a great deal further to visit us poor sinners. He left the i)osom of his Father, laid aside his glory, and came down to this lower world on a visit of mercy and love ; and ought not we, if we profess to follow him, to bear each other's infirmities, and go about doing good as he did V The old man now entered, and joined his wife and daughter in giving me a cordial welcome. Our conversa- tion soon turned to the loss they had so lately sustained. The pious and sensible disposition of the daughter was peculiarly manifested, as well in what she said to her parents, as in what she more immediately addressed to myself. I had now a further opportunity of remarking the THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 45 good sense and agreeable manner which accompanied her expressions of devotedness to God, and love to Christ for the great mercies which he had bestowed upon her. Dur- ing her residence in different gentlemen's families where she had been in service, she had acquired a superior be- havior and address ; but sincere piety rendered her very humble and unassuming in manner and conversation. She seemed anxious to improve the opportunity of my visit to the best purpose for her own and her parents' sake ; yet there was nothing of unbecoming forwardness, no self- confidence or conceitedness in her conduct. She united the firmness and solicitude of the Christian with the mod- esty of the female and the dutifulness of the daughter. It was impossible to be in her company and not observe how truly her temper and conversation adorned the prin- ciples which she professed. I soon discovered how eager and how successful also she ^ad been in her endeavors to bring her father and mother to the knowledge and experience of the truth. This is a lovely feature in the character of a young Chris- tian. If it have pleased God in the free dispensation of his mercy to call the child by his grace, while the parent remains still in ignorance and sin, how great is the duty incumbent on that child to do what is possible to promote the conversion of those to whom so much is owing ! Happy is it when the ties of grace sanctify those of nature ! The aged couple evidently regarded and spoke of this daughter as their teacher and admonisher in divine things, while at the same time they received from her every token of filial submission and obedience, testified by continual endeavors to serve and assist them to the utmost of her power in the daily concerns of the household. 46 THE DAIRYMAN S DAUGHTER. Tlie religion of tlii« young woman was of a highly spiritual character, and of no ordinary attainment. Her views of the divine plan in saving the sinner were clear and scriptural. She spoke much of the joys and sorrows which, in the course of her religious progress, she had experienced ; but she was fully sensible that there is far more in real religion than mere occasional transition from one frame of mind and spirits to another. She believed that the experimental acquaintance of the heart with God principally consisted in so living upon Christ by faith, as to aim at living like him by love. She knew that the love of God towards the sinner, and the path of duty prescribed to the sinner, are both of an unchangeable nature. In a believing dependance on the one, and an affectionate walk in the other, she sought and found " the peace of God which passeth all understanding ;" " for so he giveth his beloved rest." She had read but few books besides her Bible ; but these few were excellent in their kind, and she spoke of their contents as one who knew their value. In addition to a Bible and Prayer-book, " Doddridge's Rise and Progress," "Romaine's Life, Walk, and Triumph of Faith," "Bun- yan's Pilgrim," "Alleine's Alarm," "Baxter's Saints' Ever- lasting Rest," a hymn-book, and a few tracts, composed her library. I observed in her countenance a pale and delicate hue, which I afterward found to be a presage of consumption ; and the idea then occurred to me that she would not live very long. Time passed on swiftly with this interesting family ; and after having partaken of some plain and wholesome refreshment, and enjoyed a few hours' conversation with THE DAlHrMAN's DAUGHTER. 47 them, I found it was necessary for me to return home- ward. The disposition and character of the parties may be in some sort ascertained by the expressions at parting*. " God send you safe home again," said the aged mother, " and bless the day that brought you to see two poor old creatures, such as we are, in our" trouble and affliction. Come again, sir, come again when you can ; and though I am a poor ignorant soul, and not fit to talk to such a gentleman as you, yet my dear child shall speak for me ; she is the greatest comfort I have left, and I hope the good Lord will spare her to support my trembling limbs and feeble spirits, till I lie down with my other dear departed children in the grave." " Trust to the Lord," I answered, " and remember his gracious promise ; ' Even to your old age I am he ; and even to hoary hairs I will carry you.' " " I thank you, sir," said the daughter, " for your Chris- tian kindness to me and my friends. I believe the bless- ing of the Lord has attended your visit, and I hope I have experienced it to be so. My dear father and mother will, I am sure, remember it ; and I rejoice in the opportunity of seeing so kind a friend under this roof. My Saviour has been abundantly good to me in plucking me ' as a brand from the burning,' and showing me the way of life and peace : and I hope it is my heart's desire to live to his glory. But I long to see these dear friends enjoy the power and comfort of religion likewise." " I think it evident," I replied, " that the promise is fulfilled in their case ; ' It shall come to pass, that at even- ing time it shall be light.' " " I beheve it," she sai3, " and praise God for the Jjlessed hope." 48 THE dairyman's daughter. " Thank him too, that you have been the happy instru-- ment of bringing them to the light." " I do, sir ; yet, when I think of my own unworthiness and insufficiency, I rejoice with trembling." " Sir," said the good old man, " I am sure the Lord will reward you for this kindness. Pray for us, old as we are, and sinners as we have been, that yet he would have mercy upon us at the eleventh hour. Poor Betsy strives much for our sakes, both in body and soul ; she works hard all day to save us trouble, and I fear has not strength to sup- port all she does ; and then she talks to us, and reads to us, and prays for us, that we may be saved from the wrath to come. Indeed, sir, she's a rare child to us." " Peace be to you, and to all that belong to you !" " Amen, and thank you, dear sir," was echoed from each tongue. Thus we parted for that time. My returning medita- tions were sweet, and, I hope, profitable. Many other visits were afterward made by me to this peaceful cottage, and I always found increasing reason to thank God for the intercourse I there enjoyed. An interval of some length occurred once during that year, in which I had not seen the Dairyman's family. I was reminded of the circumstance by the receipt of the following letter. " Rev. Sir, " I have been expecting to see or hear from you for a considerable time. Excuse the liberty I take in sending you another letter. I have been confined to the house the greater part of the time since I left . I took cold that day, and have been worse ever since. I walk out a THE dairyman's daugijter. 49 little on these fine days, but seem to myself to walk very near on the borders of eternity. Glory be to God, it is a very pleasing prospect before me. Though I feel the workings of sin, and am abased, yet Jesus shows his mercy to be mine, and I trust that I am his. At such times, ' My soul would leave this hea\'y clay At his transporting word, Run up with joy the shining way To meet and prove the Lord. Fearless of hell and ghastly death, I'd break through every foe ; The wings of love and arms of faith Would bear me conqu'ror through.' My desire is to live every moment to God, that I may, through his grace, be kept in that heavenly, happy frame of mind, that I shall wish for at the hour of death. We cannot live nor die happy without this ; and to keep it, we must be continually watching and praying : for we have many enemies to disturb our peace. I am so very weak, that now I can go nowhere to any outward means for that help which is so refreshing to my spirit. " I should have been very happy to have heard you last Sunday, when you preached at : I could not walk so far. I hope the word spoken by you was made a blessing to many that heard it. It was my earnest prayer to God that it might be so. But, alas ! once calling does not awaken many that are in a sound sleep. Yet the, voice of God is sometimes very powerful, when his ministers speak ; when they are influenced by his Holy Spirit, and are simple and sincere in holding forth the Word of Life. 5 50 Tin: dairyman's daughter. Then it will teach us all things, and enlighten our mind, and reveal unto us the hidden things of darkness, and give us out of that divine treasure ' things new and old.' Rest- ing on God to work in us both to will and to do of his own good pleasure, we ought always to work as diligent ser- vants, that know they have a good Master, that will surely not forget their labor of love. " If we could but fix our eyes always on that crown of glory that awaits us in the skies, we should never grow weary in well-doing ; but should run with patience, and delight in the work and ways of God, where he appoints us. We should not then, as we too frequently do, suffer these trifling objects here on earth to draw away our minds ^roni God, to rob him of his glory, and our souls of that nappiness and comfort which the believer may enjoy amidst outward afflictions. If we thus lived more by faith in the Son of God, we should endeavor to stir up all, whom we could, to seek after God. We should tell them what he has done for us, and what he would do for them, if they truly sought him. We should show them what a glorious ex- pectation there is for all true believers and sincere seekers. " When our minds are so fixed on God, we are more desirous of glorifying him, in making known his goodness to us, than the proud rich man is of getting honor to him- self. I mourn over my own backwardness to this exercise of duty when I think of God's willingness to save the vilest of the vile, according to the dispensations of his eternal grace and mercy. O ! how amiable, how lovely does this make that God of love appear to poor sinners, that can view him as such. How is the soul delighted with such a contemplation ! They that have much for- given, how much they love ! THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 51 " These thoughts have been much on my mind shice the death of . I trust the Lord will pardon me for neglect. I thought it was my duty to speak or write to him ; you remember what I said to you respecting it. But I still delayed till a more convenient season. O ! how I was struck when I heard the Lord had taken him so suddenly. i was filled with sorrow and shame for having neglected what I had so often resolved to do. But now the time of speaking for God to him was over. Hence we see that the Lord's time is the best time. Now the night of death was come upon him ; no more work was to be done. If I had done all that lay in my power to proclaim reconcili- ation by Christ to his soul, whether he had heard or no, I should have been clear of his blood. But I cannot recall the time that is past, nor him from the grave. Had I known the Lord would have called him so suddenly, how diligent I should have been to warn him of his danger ! But it is enough that God shows us what we are to do, and not what lie is about to do with us or any of his creatures. Pray, sir, do all you can for the glory of God. The time will soon pass by, and then we shall enter that glorious rest that he hath prepared for them that love him. I ^ray God to fill you with that zeal and love, which only can inspire, that you may daily win souls to Christ. May he deliver you from all slavish fear of man, and give you boldness, as he did of old those that were filled with ^he Holy Ghost and with power ! " Remember, Christ hath promised to be with all his faithful ministers to the end of time. The greater dan- ijers and difficulties they are exposed to, the more power- ful his assistance. Then, sir, let us fear none but him. ^ hope you will pray much for me a poor sinner, that God 52 THE DAIKYMAM S DAUGHTER. will perfect his strength in my weakness of body and mind. For without him I can do nothing. But when I can experience the teaching of that Holy One, I need no other teacher. May the Lord anoint you with the same, and give you every grace of his Holy Spirit, that you may be filled with all the fulness of God ; that you may know what is the height and depth, the length and breadth of the love of God in Christ Jesus : that you may be in the hand of the Lord, as a keen archer to draw the bow, while the Lord directs and fastens the arrows of convic- tion in the hearts of such as are under your ministry ! " I sincerely pray that you may be made a blessing to him that has taken the place of the deceased. I have heard that you are fellow-countrymen : I hope you are, however, both as strangers in this world, that have no abiding place, but seek a country out of sight. " Pray excuse all faults, from your humble servant in the bonds of the Gospel of Christ, " E W ." When I perused this and other letters, which were at different times written to me by the Dairyman's daughter, I felt that, in the person of this interesting correspondent, were singularly united the characters of an humble dis- ciple and a faithful monitor. I wished to acknowledge the goodness of God in each of these her capacities. I sometimes entertain a hope that the last day will un- fold the value of these epistolary comnmnications, beyond even any present estimate of their spiritual importance. THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 53 PART IV. The translation of sinners " from the power of dark- ness into the kingdom of God's dear Son," is the joy of Christians and the admiration of angels. Every penitent and pardoned soul is a new witness to the triumphs of the Redeemer over sin, death, and the grave. How great the change that is wrought ! The child of wrath becomes a monument of grace — a brand plucked from the burning ! " If ^ny man be in Christ, he is a new creature : old things are passed away ; behold, all things are become new." How marvellous, how interesting, is the spiritual history of each individual believer ! He is, like David, " a wonder to many," but the greatest wonder of all to himself. Others may doubt whether it be so or not ; but to Tim it is unequivocally proved, that, from first to last, grace alone reigns in the work of his salvation. The character and privileges of real Christians are beautifully described in the language of our church : who, when speaking of the objects of divine favor and compas- sion, says : " They that be endued with so excellent a benefit of God, be called according to God's purpose in due season : they through grace obey the calling : they be jus- tified freely : they be made sons of God by adoption : they be made like the image of his only begotten Son, Jesus Christ : they walk religiously in good v»^orks ; and at length by God's mercy they attain to everlasting felicity." Such a conception and display of the Almighty wisdom, power, and love, is indeed "full of sweet, pleasant, and unspeakable comfort to godly persons, and such as feel 5* 54 THE dairyman's daughter. in themselves the working of the Spirit of Clirist mortify- ing the works of the flesh, and their earthly members ; and drawing up their minds to high and heavenly things : it doth greatly establish and confirm their faith of eternal salvation, to be enjoyed through Christ, and doth fervently kindle their love towards God." Nearly allied to the consolation of a good hope through grace, as it respects our own personal state before God, is that of seeing its evidences shed lustre over the dispo- sition and conduct of others.- Bright was the exhibition of the union between true Christian enjoyment and Chris- tian exertion, in the character whose moral and spiritual features I am attempting to delineate. It seemed to be the first wish of her heart to prove to others what God had already proved to her, that Jesus is " the way, and the truth, and the life." She desired to evince the reality of her calling, justification, and adop- tion into the family of God, by showing a conformity to the image of Christ, and by walking "religiously in good w^orks :" she trusted, that, in tliis path of faith and obe- dience, she should " at length, by God's mercy, attain to everlasting felicity." I had the spiritual charge of another parish, adjoining to that in which I resided. It was a small district, and had but few inhabitants. The church was pleasantly situated on a rising bank, at the foot of a considerable hill. It was surrounded by trees, and had a rural, retired appearance. Close to the churchyard stood a large old mansion, which had formerly been the residence of an opulent and titled family ; but it had long since been ap- propriated to the use of the estate as a farm-house. Its outward aspect bore considerable remains of ancieot THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 55 grandeur, and gave a pleasing character to the spot of ground on which the church stood. In every direction the roads that led to this house of God possessed distinct but interesting features. One of them ascended between several rural cottages, from the seashore, which adjoined the lower part of the village street. Another winded round the curved sides of the adjacent hill, and was adorned both above and below with numerous sheep, feeding on the herbage of the down. A third road led to the church by a gently rising approach, between high banks, covered with young trees, bushes, ivy, hedge-plants, and wild flowers. From a point of land which commanded a view of all these several avenues, I used sometimes for a while to watch my congregation gradually assembling together at the hour of Sabbath worship. They were in some direc- tions visible for a considerable distance. Gratifying associations of thought would form in my mind, as I con- templated their approach, and successive arrival, within the precincts of the house of prayer. One day, as I was thus occupied, during a short inter- val previous to the hour of divine service, I reflected on the joy which David experienced, at the time he exclaim- ed : "I was glad, when they said unto me. Let us go into the house of the Lord. Our feet shall stand within thy gates, O Jerusalem. Jerusalem is builded as a city that is compact together ; whither the tribes go up, the tribes of the Lord, unto the testimony of Israel, to give thanks unto the name of the Lord." I was led to reflect upon the various blessings connect- ed with the establishment of public worship, "How many immortal souls are now gathering together to per- 56- THE dairyman's daughter. form the all- important work of prayer and praise — to hear the word of God — to feed upon the bread of life ! They are leaving their respective dwellings, and will soon be united together in the house of prayer. How beautifully does this represent the effect produced by the voice of *the Good Shepherd,' calling his sheep from every part of the wilderness into his fold ! As these fields, hills, and lanes, are now covered with men, women, and children, in various directions, drawing nearer to each other, and to the object of their journey's end ; even so, many shall come from the east, and from the west, and from the north, and from the south, and shall sit down in the kingdom (?f God.' " Who can rightly appreciate the value of such hours as these ] — hours spent in learning the ways of holy plea- santness and the paths of heavenly peace — hours devoted to the service of God and of souls ; in warning the sinner to flee from the wrath to come ; in teaching the ignorant how to live and die ; in preaching the Gospel to the poor; in healing the broken-hearted ; in declaring " deliverance to the captives, and recovering of sight to the blind." — " Blessed is the people that know the joyful sound : they shall walk, O Lord, in the light of thy countenance. In thy name shall they rejoice all the day, and in thy righte- ousness shall they be exalted." My thoughts then pursued a train of reflection on the importance of the ministerial office, as connected in the purposes of God with the salvation of sinners. I inwardly prayed that those many individuals whom he had given me to instruct, might not, through my neglect or error, be as sheep having no shepherd, nor as the blind led by the blind : but rather that I might in season and out of season THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 57 faithfully proclaim the simple and undisguised truths of the Gospel, to the glory of God and the prosperity of his church. At that instant, near the bottom of the enclosed lane which led to the churchyard, I observed a friend, whom, at such a distance from his own home, I little expected to meet. It was the venerable Dairyman. He came up the ascent, leaning with one hand on his trusty staff, and with the other on the arm of a younger man, well known to me, who appeared to be much gratified in meeting with such a companion by the way. My station was on the top of one of the banks which formed the hollow^ road beneath. They passed a few yards below me. I was concealed from their sight by a projecting tree. They were talking of the mercies of God, and the unsearchable riches of his grace. The Dai- ryman was telling his companion what a blessing the Lord had given him in his daughter. His countenance bright- ened as he named her, and called her his precious Betsy. I met them at a stile not many yards beyond, and ac- companied them to the church, which was hard by. "Sir," said the old man, "I have brought a letter from my daughter — I hope I am in time for divine service. Seven miles is now become a long walk for me : I grow old and weak — I am very glad to see you, sir." " How is your daughter V " Very poorly indeed, sir : very poorly — the doctors say it is a decline. I sometimes hope she will get the better of it ; but then again I have many fears. You know, sir, that I have cause to love and prize her. O ! it would be such a trial ; but the Lord knows what is best. Excuse my weakness, sir." 59 THE dairyman's daughter. He put a letter into my hand, the perusal of which 1 reserved till afterward, as the time was nigh for going into church. The presence of this aged pilgrim, the peculiar rever- ence and aflfection with which he joined in the different parts of the service, excited many gratifying thoughts in my mind ; such as rather furthered than interrupted de- votion. The train of reflection in which I had been engaged, when I first discovered him on the road, at intervals re- curred powerfully to my feelings, as I viewed that very congregation assembled together in the house of God, whose steps, in their approach towards it, I had watched with prayerful emotions. " Here the rich and poor meet together in mutual acknowledgment, that the Lord is the Maker of them all ; and that all are alike dependent creatures, looking up to one common Father to supply their wants, both temporal and spiritual. " Again, likewise, will they meet together in the grave, that undistinguished receptacle of the opulent and the needy. " And once more, at the judgment-seat of Christ shall the rich and the poor meet together, that ' every one may receive the things done in his body, according to that he hath done, whether it be good or bad.' " How closely connected in the history of man are these three periods of a general meeting together ! " The house of prayer — the house appointed for all liv- ing — and the house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. May we never separate these ideas from each other, but retain them in a sacred and profitable union ! THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 59 So shall our worshipping assemblies on eart? be represen- tative of the general assembly and church of the first-born, which are written in heaven." When the congregation dispersed, I entered into dis course with the Dairyman and a few of the poor of my 5ock, whose minds were of like disposition to his own. He seldom could speak long together without some refer- ence to his dear child. He loved to tell how merciful his God had been to him, in the dutiful and affectionate attentions of his daughter. All real Christians feel a ten- der spiritual attachment towards those who have been the instrument of bringing them to an effectual knowledge of the way of salvation : but when that instrument is one so nearly allied, how dear does the relationship become ! If my friend the Dairyman was in any danger of failing into idolatry, his child would have been the idol of his af- fections. She was the prop and stay of her parents' declining years, and they scarcely know how sufficiently to testify the gratitude of their hearts, for the comfort and blessing which she was the means of affording them. While he was relating several particulars of his family history to the others, I opened and read the following letter. " Sir, " Once more I take the liberty to trouble you with a few lines. I received your letter with great pleasure, and thank you for it. I am now so weak, that I am una- ble to walk to any public place of divine worship, a privi- lege which has heretofore always so much strengthened and refreshed me. I used to go in anxious expectation to meet my God, and hold sweet communion with him, and I was seldom disappointed. In the means of grace, 60 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. all the channels of divine mercy are open to every heart that is lifted up to receive out of that divine fulness grace . for grace. These are the times of refreshing from the presence of the Lord. How have I rejoiced to hear a faithful and lively messenger, just come, as it were, from communion with God at the throne of grace, with his heart warmed and filled with divine love, to speak to fallen sinners ! Such a one has seemed to me as if his face shone as that of Moses did with the glory of God, when he came down from the mount ; where he had been within the vail. May you, sir, imitate him, as he did Christ, that all may see and know that the Lord dwelleth with you, and that you dwell in him through the unity of the blessed Spirit. I trust you are no stranger to his divine teaching, aid, and assistance, in all you set your hand to do for the glory of God. " I hope, sir, the sincerity of my wishes for your spirit- ual welfare will plead an excuse for the freedom of my address to you. I pray the Giver of every perfect gift, that you may experience the mighty workings of his gra- cious Spirit in your heart and your ministry, and rest your all on the justifying and purifying blood of ai; expiring Redeemer. Then will you triumph in his strength, and be enabled to say with the poet : — ' Shall I through fear of feeble men The Spirit's course strive to restrain 1 v Or, undismay'd in deed and word, Be a true witness for my Lord 1 Aw'd by a mortal's frown, shall 1 Conceal the word of God most high ? How then before thee shall I dare To btand, or how thine anger bear 1 THE DAIRYMAN S DAUGHTIR. QA « Shall I, to soothe th' unholy throng, Soften thy truths and smooth my tjngue To gain earth's gilded toys, or flee The cross endur'd, my God, by th3e? * What then is he, whose scorn I dread ? Whose UTath or hate makes me afraid ? A man 1 an heir of death ? a slave To sin, a bubble on the wave 1 « Yea, let men rage, since thou wilt spread Thy shadowing wmgs around m.y head : Since in all pain thy tender love Will still my sure refreshment prove. ' Still shall the love of Christ constrain To seek the wand'ring souls of men, With cries, entreaties, tears to save, And snatch them from the yawning grave. ' For this let men revile my name, No cross I shun, I fear no shame : All hail reproach, and welcome pain, Only tliy terrors, Lord, restrain.' " I trust, sir, that you see what a glorious high calhng yours is, and that you are one of those who walk humhly with God, that you may be taught of him in all things. Persons in your place are messengers of the most high God. Is it too much to say, they should live like the angels in all holiness, and be filled with love and zeal for men's souls ? They are ambassadors, in Christ's stead, to persuade sinners to be reconciled to God. So that your calling is above that of an^;els : for they are afterward to minister to the heirs of sal i^ation ; but the sinner must be first reconciled to God. And you are called on from day to day to intercede with man as his friend, that you may 6 62 THE dairyman's daughter. win souls to Christ. Christ is ascended up on high, to intercede with his Father for guilty sinners, and to plead for them the merits of his death. So that Christ and his faithful ministers, through the operation of the blessed Spirit, are co-workers together. Yet, without him we can do nothing ; our strength is his strength, and his is all the glory from first to last. " It is my heart's prayer and desire, sir, that you may, by a living faith, cleave close to that blessed exalted Lamb of God, who died to redeem us from sin — that you may have a sweet communion with Father, Son, and Spirit — that you may sink deep in humble love, and rise high in the life of God. Thus will you have such discoveries of the beauties of Christ and his eternal glory, as will fill your heart with true delight. " If I am not deceived, I wish myself to enjoy his gra- cious favor, more than all the treasures which earth can afford. I would in comparison look upon them with holy disdain, and as not worth an anxious thought, tJiat they may not have power on my heart, to draw or attract it from God, who is wofithy of my highest esteem, and of all my affections. It should be our endeavor to set him alway before us, that in all things we may act as in his imme- diate presence : that we may be filled with that holy fear, so that we may not dare wilfully to sin against him. We should earnestly entreat the Lord to mortify the power and working of sin and unbelief within us, by making Christ appear more and more precious in our eyes, and more dear to our hearts. " It fills my heart with thankful recollections, while I attempt in this weak manner to speak of God's love to man. When I reflect on my past sins and his past mer- THE DAIRYMAN S DAUGHTER. b3 cies, I am assured, that if I had all the gifts of wise men and angels, I could never sufficiently describe my own in- ward sense of his undeserved love towards me. We can better enjoy these glorious apprehensions in our hearts, than explain them to others. But, O ! how unworthy of them all are we ! Consciousness of my own corruptions keeps me often low ; yet faith and desire will easily mount on high, beseeching God that he would, according to the. Apostle's prayer, fill me with all his communicable fulness, in the gifts and graces of his Spirit ; that I may walk well-pleasing before him, in all holy conversation, perfect- ing holiness in his fear. " If I err in boldness, sir, pray pardon me, and in your next letter confirm my hope, that you will be my counsel- lor and guide. " I can only recompense your kindness to me by my prayers, that your own intercourse with God may be abun- dantly blessed to you and yours. I consider the Saviour saying to you, as he did to Peter, ' Lovest thou me V And may your heartfelt experience be compelled to reply, ' Thou knowest all things, and thou knowest that I love thee' supremely. May he have evident marks of it in all your outward actions of love and humanity, in feeding his flock, and in the inward fervor and affection of all your consecrated powers : that you may be zealously engaged in pulling down the strongholds of sin and Satan, and build- ing up his church ; sowing the seeds of righteousness, and praying God to give the increase — that you may not labor for him in vain ; but may see the trees bud and blos- som, and bring forth fruit abundantly, to the praise and glory of your heavenly Master. In order to give you en- couragement, he says, whosoever ' converteth a sinner 64 TUE daieyman's daughtek. from the error of his way, shall save a soul from death ;* and that will increase the brightness of your crown in glory. This hath Christ merited for his faithful ministers. " I hope, sir, you will receive grace to be sincere in reproving sin, wherever you see it. You will find divine assistance, and all fear and shame taken from you. Great peace will be given to you, and wisdom, strength, and courage, according to your work. You will be as Paul ; having much learning, you can speak to men in all sta- tions in life, by God's assistance. The fear of offending them will never prevent you, when you consider the glory of God ; and man's immortal soul is of more value than his present favor and esteem. In particular, you are in an office wherein you can visit all the sick. Man's extremity is often God's opportunity. In this way you may prove an instrument in his hand to do his work. Although he can work without means, yet his usual way is by means : and I trust you are a chosen vessel unto him, to prove his name and declare his truth to ail men. " Visiting the sick is a strict command, and a duty for every Christian. None can tell what good may be done. I wish it was never neglected, as it too often is. Many think, that if they attend in the church, the minister to preach, and the people to hear, their duty is done. But more is required than this. May the Lord stir np the gift that is in his people and ministers, that they may have , compassion on their fellow-sinners, that they may never think it too late, but remember, that, while there is life, there is hope. " Once more, I pray, sir, pardon and excuse all my errors in judgment, and the ignorance that this is penned in ; and may God bless you in all things, and particularly THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 65 your friendship to me and my parents. What a com- fort is family religion ! I do not doubt but this is your desire, as it is mine, to say, « I and my house will serve the Lord, But first obedient to his word I must myself appear : By actions, words, and tempers show, Tliat I my heavenly Master know, And serve with heart sincere. ' I must the fair example set, From tliose that on my pleasure wait The stumbling-block remove ; Their duty by my life explain, And still in all my works maintain The dignity of love. ' Easy to be entreated, mild, Quickly appeas'd and reconciled, ^ A follower of my God : A saint indeed I long to be. And lead my faithful famUy In the celestial road. 'Lord, if thou dost tlie wish infuse, A vessel fitted for thy use Into thy hands receive : Work in me both to will and do. And show them how believers true And real Christians live. ' With all-sufficient grace supply. And then I'll come to testify The wonders of thy name, Which saves from sin, the world, and hell: Its power may every sinner feel, And every tongue proclaim ! •Cleans'd by the blood of Christ from sin, 1 seek my relatives to win. DO THE DAIRYMAN S DAUGHTER. And preach tlieir sins forgiven: Children, and \vif<;, and servants seize, And through the patiis of pleasantness, Conduct them all to heaven.' " Living so much in a solitary way, books are my com- panions ; and poetry, which speaks of the love of God and the mercies of Christ, is very sweet to my mind. This must be my excuse for troublinor you to read verses which others have written. I have intended, if my decli- ning state of health permit, to go to for a few days. I say this, lest you should call in expectation of seeing me, during any part of next week. But my dear father and mother, for whose precious souls I am very anxious, will reap the benefit of your visit at all events. From " Your humble and unworthy servant, « E W ." Having read it, I said to the father of my highly valued correspondent, " I thank you for being the bearer of this letter : your daughter is a kind friend and faithful counsellor to me, as well as to you. Tell her how highly I esteem her friend- ship, and that I feel truly obliged for the many excellent sentiments which she has here expressed. Give her my blessing, and assure her that the oftener she writes, the more thankful I shall be." The Dairyman's enlivened eye gleamed with pleasure as I spoke. The praise of his Elizabeth was a string which could not be touched without causing every nerve of his whole frame to vibrate. His voice half faltered, as he spoke in reply : the tear started in his eyes ; his hand trembled, as I pressed it ; his heart was full ; he could only say — THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 67 " Sir, a poor old man thanks you for your kindness to him and his family : God bless you, sir ; I hope' we shall soon see you again." Thus we parted for that day. PART V. It has not unfrequently been observed that when it is the Lord's pleasure to remove any of his faithful followers out of this life at an early period of their course, they make rapid progress in the experience of divine truth. The fruits of the Spirit ripen fast, as they advance to the close of mortal existence. In particular, they grow m humility, through a deeper sense of inward corruption, and a clearer view of the perfect character of the Saviour. Disease and bodily weakness make the thoughts of eter- nity recur with frequency and power. The great ques- tion of their own personal salvation, the quality of their faith, the sincerity of their love, and the purity of their hope, is in continual exercise. Unseen realities, at such a time, occupy a larger por- tion of thought than before. The state of existence be- yond the grave, the invisible world, the unaltered charac- ter of the dead, the future judgment, the total separation from every thing earthly, the dissolution of body and spirit, and their reunion at the solemn hour of resurrection, — these are subjects for their meditation, which «all for ear- nestness of soul. Whatever consolations from the Spirit 68 THE DAIRYMAN S DAUGHTER. of God they may have enjoyed heretofore, they become now doubly anxious to examine and prove themselves, " whether they be indeed in the faith." In doing this they sometimes pass through hidden conflicts of a dark and dis- tressing nature ; from which, however, they come forth, like gold tried in the furnace. Awhile they may sow in tears, but soon they reap in joy. Their religious feelings have then, perhaps, less of ec- Btacy, but more of serenity. As the ears of corn ripen for the harvest, they bow their heads nearer to the ground. So it is with believers ; they then see more than ever of their own imperfection, and often express their sense of it in strong language ; yet they repose with a growing confidence on the love of God through Christ Jesus. The nearer they advance to their eternal rest, the more humble they become, but not the less useful in their sphere. They feel anxiously desirous of improving every talent they possess, to the glory of God, knowing that the time is short. I thought I observed the truth of these remarks ful- filled in the progressive state of mind of the Dairyman's daughter. Declining health seemed to indicate the will of God con- cerning her. But her character, conduct, and experience of the divine favor, increased in brightness as the setting sun of her mortal life approached its horizon. The last letter which, with the exception of a very short note, I ever received from her, I shall now transcribe. It ap- peared to me to bear the marks of a still deeper acquaint- ance with the workings of her own heart, and a more entire reliance upon the free mercy of God. The original, while I copy it, strongly revives the image THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 69 of the deceased, and the many profitable conversations which I once enjoyed in her company, and that of her parents. It again endears to me the recollections of cot- tage piety, and helps me to anticipate the joys of that day, when the spirits of the glorified saints shall be reunited to their bodies, and be for ever with the Lord. The writer of this and the preceding letters herself little imagined, when they were penned, that they would ever be submitted to the public eye : that they now are so, results from a conviction that the friends of the pious poor will estimate them according to their value ; and a hope that it may please God to honor these memorials of the dead, to the effectual edification of the living. " Rev. Sir, " In consequence of your kind permission, I take the liberty to trouble you with another of my ill- written let- ters ; and I trust you have too much of your blessed Mas- ter's lowly, meek, and humble mind, to be offended with a poor, simple, ignorant creature, whose intentions are pure and sincere in writing. My desire is, that I, a weak vessel of his grace, may glorify his name for his goodness towards me. May the Lord direct me by his counsel and wisdom ! May he overshadow me with his presence ; that I may sit beneath the banner of his love, and find the consolations of his blessed Spirit sweet and refreshing to my soul ! " When I feel that I am nothing, and God is all in all, then I can willingly fly to him, saying, ' Lord, help me ; Lord, teach me ; be unto me my Prophet, Priest, and King. Let me know the teaching of thy grace, and the disclosing of thy love.' What nearness of access might 70 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. we have if we lived more near to God ! What sweet communion might we have with a God of love ! He is the great I AM. How glorious a name ! Angels with trembling awe prostrate themselves before him, and io humble love adore and worship him. One says, ' While the first archangel sings, He hides his face behind his wings-' Unworthy as I am, I have found it by experience, that the more I see of the greatness and goodness of God, and the nearer union I hope I have had with him through the Spirit of his love, the more humble and self-abased I have been. "But every day I may say, 'Lord, how little I love thee, how far I live from thee, how little am I like thee in humility !' It is nevertheless my heart's desire to love and serve him better. I find the way in which God does more particularly bless me, is when I attend on the public ordinances of religion. These are the channels through which he conveys the riches of his grace and precious love to my soul. These I have often found to be indeed the time of refreshing and strengthening from the presence of the Lord. Then I can see my hope of an interest in the covenant of his love, and praise him for his mercy to the greatest of sinners. " I earnestly wish to be more established in his ways, and to honor him in the path of duty, whilst I enjoy the smiles of his favor. In the midst of all outward afflic- tions I pray that I may know Christ, and the power of his resurrection within my soul. If I were always thus, my summer would last all the year ; my will would then be sweetly lost in God's will, and I should feel a resignation in every dispensation of his providence and his grace, saying. THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 71 ' Good is the will of the Lord : Infinite Wisdom cannot err.' Then would patience have its perfect work. "But, alas ! .sin and unbelief often, too often, interrupt these frames, and lay me low before God in tears of sor- row. I often think what a happiness it would be, if his love were so fixed in my heart, that I might willingly obey him with alacrity and delight, and gradually mortify the power of self-will, passion, and pride. This can only arise from a good hope through grace, that we are washed in that precious blood which cleanses us from every sinful stain, and makes us new creatures in Christ. O that we may be the happy witnesses of the saving power and virtue of that healing stream wnich flows from the fountain of everlasting love ! " Sir, my faith is often exceedingly weak : can you be so kind as to tell me, what you have found to be the most effectual means of strengthening it ? I often think how plainly the Lord declares. Believe only, and thou shalt be saved. Only have faith ; all things are possible to him that has it. How I wish that we could remove all those mountains that hinder and obstruct the light of his grace ; so that having full access unto God through that ever- blessed Spirit, we might lovingly commune with him as with the dearest of friends. What favor does God bestow on worms ! And yet we love to murmur and complain. He may well say, What should I have done more, that I have not done 1 or wherein have I proved unfaithful or unkind to my faithless backsliding children ] " Sir, I pray that I may not grieve him, as I have done, any more. I want your counsel and your prayers for me in this matter. How refreshing is the sight of one that truly loves God, that bears his image and likeness ! 72 THE dairyman's daughter. "But delightful as is conversation with true believers on earth, whose hearts are lifted up to things above, yet what is this to that happy day which will admit us into more bright realms ; where we shall for ever behold a God of love in the smiling face of his Son, who is the ex- press image of his Father and the brightness of his glory ! Then, if found in him, we shall be received by the innu- merable host of angels who wait around his throne. " In the mean time, sir, may I take up my cross, and manfully fight under Him, who for the glory that was set before him, endured the cross, despising the shame, and is now set down at his Father's right hand in majesty ! I thank you for the kind liberty you have given me of wri- ting to you. I feel my health declining, and I find a relief during an hour of pain and weakness in communicating these thoughts to you. " I hope, sir, you go on your way rejoicing ; that you are enabled to thank Him who is the Giver of every good gift, spiritual, temporal, and providential, for blessings to yourself and your ministry. I do not doubt but you often meet with circumstances, which are not pleasing to na- ture, yet, by the blessing of God, they will be all profit- able in the end. They are kindly designed by grace to make and keep us humble. The difficulties which you spoke of to me some time since will, I trust, disappear. " My dear father and mother are as well as usual in bodily health, and I hope grow in grace, and in the know- ledge and love of Jesus Christ. My chief desire to live is for their sakes. It now seems long since we have seen you. I am almost ashamed to request you to come to our little cottage to visit those who are so much below your station in life. But if you cannot come, we shall be very THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 73 glad if you will write a few lines. I oug'iit to make an excuse for my letter, I spell so badly : this was a great neglect when I was young. I gave rnyself greatly to reading, but not to the other, and now I am too weak and feeble to learn much. " I hear sometimes of persons growing serious in your congregation. It gives me joy, and if true, I am sure it does so to yourself. I long for the pure Gospel of Christ to be preached in every church in the world, and for the time when all shall know, love, and fear the Lord ; and the uniting Spirit of God shall make them of one heart and mind in Christ our great Head. Your greatest joy, I know, will be in laboring much for the glory of God in the sal- vation of men's souls. You serve a good Master. You have a sure rew^ard. I pray God to give you strength ac- cording to your day. " Pray, sir, do not be offended at the freedom and man- ner of my writing. My parents' duty and love to you are sent with these lines, from "Your humble servant in Christ, " E W ." Epistolary communications, when written in sincerity of heart, afford genuine portraits of the mind. May the foregoing be viewed with Christian candor, and conse- crated to affectionate memory ! 7 74 THE datrtman's daughter. PART VI. Travellers, as they pass through the country, usually stop to inquire whose are the splendid mansions which they discover among the woods and plains around them. The families, titles, fortune, or character of the respective owners, engage much attention. Perhaps their houses are exhibited to the admiring stronger. The elegant rooms, costly furniture, valuable paintings, beautiful gardens and shrubberies are universally approved ; while the rank, fashion, taste, and riches of the possessor, afford ample materials for entertaining discussion. In the mean time, the lowly cottage of the poor husbandman is passed by as scarcely deserving of notice. Yet perchance such a cot- tage may often contain a treasure of infinitely more value than the sumptuous palace of the rich man, even " the pearl of great price." If this be set in the heart of the poor cottager, it proves a gem of unspeakable worth, and will shine among the brightest ornaments of the Re- deemer's crown, in that day when he maketh up his "jewels." Hence, the Christian traveller, while in common with others he bestows his due share of applause on the deco- rations of the rich, and is not insensible to the beauties and magnificence which are the lawfully allowed appen- dages of rank and fortune, cannot overlook the humbler dwelling of the poor. And if he should find that true piety and grace beneath the thatched roof which he has in vain looked for amidst the worldly grandeur of the rich, he remembers the declarations in the word of God. He sees THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 75 with admiration, that " the high and lofty One, that inhab- iteth eternity, whose name is Holy, who dwelleth in the high and holy place, dwelleth with him also that is of a contrite and humble spirit," (Isaiah Ivii. 15,) and although heaven is his throne, and the earth his footstool, yet, when a house is to be built, and a place of rest to be sought for himself, he says, " To this man will I look, even to him that is poor, and of a contrite spirit, and trembleth at my word." — Isa. Ixii. 1, 2. When a house is thus tenanted, faith beholds this in- scription written on the walls. The Lord lives here. Faith therefore cannot pass it by unnoticed, but loves to lift up the latch of the door, and to sit down and converse with the poor, although perhaps despised inhabitant. Many a sweet interview does Faith obtain, when she thus takes her walks abroad. Many such a sweet interview have I myself enjoyed beneath the roof where dwelt the Dairy- man and his little family. I soon perceived that his daughter's health was rapidly on the decline. The pale wasting consumption, which is the Lord's instrument for removing so many thousands every year from the land of the living, made hasty strides on her constitution The hollow eye, the distressing cough, and the often too flattering flush on the cheek, foretold the approach of death. What a field for usefulness and afTectionate attention, on the part of Ministers and Christian friends, is opened by the frequent attacks, and lingering process of consump- tive illness ! How many such precious opportunities are daily lost, where Providence seems in so marked a way to afford time and space for serious and godly instruction ! Of how many may it be said, " The way of peace have 76 THE dairyman's daughter. they not Known !" for not one friend ever came nigh, to warn them to " flee from the wrath to come." But the Dairyman's (laughter was happily made ac- quainted with the things which belonged to her everlast- ing peace before the present disease had taken root in her constitution. In my visits to her, I went rather to receive information than to impart it. Her mind was absolutely stored with divine truths, and her conversation was truly edifying. The recollection of it will ever produce a thank- ful sensation in my heart. I one day received a short note to the following effect : Dear Sir, " I should be very glad, if your convenience will al- low, that you would come and see a poor unworthy sinner : my hour-glass is nearly run out, but I hope I can see Christ to be precious to my soul. Your conversation has often been blessed to me, and I now feel the need of it more than ever. My father and mother send their duty to you. " From your obedient, " And unworthy servant, "E W ." 1 obeyed the summons that same afternoon. On my arrival at the Dairyman's cottage, his wife opened the door. The tears streamed down her cheek, as she silent- ly shook her head. Her heart was full. She tried to speak, but could not. I took her by the hand, and said, " My good friend, all is right, and as the Lord of wisdom and mercy directs." " O ! my Betsy, my dear girl, is so bad, sir : what shall I do without her ] — I thought I should have gone first to the grave, but " THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 77 " But the Lord sees good that before you die yourself, you should behold your child safe home to glory. Is there no mercy in this?" " O dear sir ! I am very old and very weak ; and she is a dear child, the staff and prop of a poor old creature as I am." As I advanced, I saw Elizabeth sitting by the fireside, supported in an armchair by pillows, with every mark of rapid decline and approaching death. A sweet smile of friendly complacency enlightened her pale countenance, as she said, " This is very kind indeed, sir, to come so soon after I sent to you. You find me daily wasting away, and I can- not have long to continue here. My flesh and my heart fail ; but God is the strength of my weak heart, and I trust will be my portion for ever." The conversation was occasionally interrupted by her cough and want of breath. Her tone of voice was clear, though feeble ; her manner solemn and collected, and her eye, though more dim than formerly, by no means wanting in liveliness, as she spoke. I had frequently admired the superior language in which she expressed her ideas, as well as the scriptural consistency with which she commu- nicated her thoughts. She had a good natural under- standing ; and grace, as is generally the case, had much improved it. On the present occasion I could not help thinking she was peculiarly favored. The whole strength of gracious and natural attainments seemed to be in full exercise. After taking my seat between the daughter and the mother, (the latter fixing her fond eyes upon her child with great anxiety while we were conversing,) I said to Elizabeth — 7* 78 THE dairyman's daughter. " I hope you enjoy a sense of the Divine presence, and can rest all upon Him who has ' been with thee,' and has kept ' thee in all places whither thou hast gone,' and will bring thee into 'the land of pure delights, where saints im- mortal reign.' " " Sir, I think I can. My mind has lately been some- times clouded, but I believe it has been partly owing to the great weakness and suffering of my bodily frame, and partly to the envy of my^ spiritual enemy, who wants to persuade me that Christ has no love for me, and that I have been a self-deceiver." "And do you give way to his suggestions? Can you doubt amidst such numerous tokens of past and present mercy ?" "No, sir, I mostly am enabled to preserve a clear evi- dence of his love. I do not wish to add to my other sins that of denying his manifest goodness to my soul. I would acknowledge it to his praise and glory." " What is your present view of the state in which you ■were, before you felt seriously concerned about the salva- tion of your soul?" "Sir, I was a proud, thoughtless girl, fond of dress and finery ; I loved the world, and the things that are in the world ; I lived in service among worldly people, and never had the happiness of being in a family where wor- ship was regarded, and the souls of the servants cared for either by master or mistress. I went once on a Sunday to church, more to see and be seen, than to pray or hear the Word of God. I thought I was quite good enough to be saved, and disliked, and often laughed at religious peo- ple. I was in great darkness ; I knew nothing of the way of salvation ; I never prayed, nor was sensible of the aw THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 79 ful danger of a prayerless state. I wished to maintain the character of a good servant, and was much lifted up when- ever I met with applause. I was tolerably moral and decent in my conduct, from motives of carnal and worldly policy ; but I was a stranger to God and Christ ; I neg- lected my soul ; and had I died in such a state, hell must, and would justly, have been my portion." " How long is it since you heard the sermon which you hope, through God's blessing, effected your conversion 1" " About five years ago." " How was it brought about ]" " It was reported that a Mr. , who was detained by contrary winds from embarking on board ship as chaplain to a distant part of the world, was to preach at church. Many advised me not to go, for fear he should turn my head ; as they said he held strange notions. But curiosity, and an opportunity of appearing in a new gown, which I was very proud of, induced me to ask leave of my mistress to go. Indeed, sir, I had no better motives than vanity and curiosity. Yet thus it pleased the Lord to order it for his own glory. " I accordingly went to church, and saw a great crowd of people collected together. I often think of the contrary states of my mind during the former and latter part of the service. For awhile, regardless of the worship of God, I looked around me, and was anxious to attract notice my- self. My dress, like that of too many gay, vain, and silly servant girls, was much above my station, and very dif- ferent from that which becomes an humble sinner, who has a modest sense of propriety and decency. The state of my mind was visible enough from the foolish finery of my apparel. 80 THE dairyman's daughter. " At length the clergyman gave out his text : ' Be ye clothed with humility.' He drew a comparison between the clothing of the body with that of the soul. At a very early part of his discourse, I began to feel ashamed of my passion for fine dressing and apparel ; but when he came to describe the garment of salvation with which a Chris- tian is clothed, I felt a powerful discovery of the nakedness of my own soul. I saw that I had neither the humility mentioned in the text, nor any one part of the true Chris- tian character. I looked at my gay dress, and blushed for shame on account of my pride. I looked at the minis- ter, and he seemed to be as a messenger sent from heaven, to open my eyes. I looked at the congregation, and won- dered whether any one else felt as I did. I looked at my heart, and it appeared full of iniquity. I trembled as he spoke, and yet I felt a great drawing of heart to the words he uttered. " He opened the riches of divine grace in God's method of saving the sinner. I was astonished at what I had been doing all the days of my life. He described the meek, lowly, and humble example of Christ ; I felt proud, lofty, vain, and self-consequential. ^ He represented Christ as * Wisdom ;' I felt my ignorance. He held Jiim forth as * Righteousness ;' I was convinced of my own guilt. He proved him to be ' Sanctification ;' I saw my corruption. He proclaimed him as ' Redemption ;' I felt my slavery to sin, and my captivity to Satan. He concluded with an animated address to sinners, in which he exhorted them to flee from the wrath to come, to cast off the love of out- ward ornaments, to put on Jesus Clu-ist, and be clothed with true humility. " From that hour I never lost sight of the value of my THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 81 soul and the danger of a sinful state. I inwardly blessed God for the sermon, although my mind was in a state of great confusion. " The preacher had brought forward the ruling passion of my heart, which was pride in outward dress ; and by the grace of God it was made instrumental to the awaken- ing of my soul. Happy, sir, would it be, if many a poor girl, like myself, were turned from the love of outward adorning and putting on of fine apparel, to seek that which is not corruptible, even the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God of great price. " The greatest part of the congregation, unused to such faithful and scriptural sermons, disliked and complained of the severity of the preacher : while a few, as I after- ward found, like myself, were deeply affected, and ear- nestly wished to hear him again. But he preached there no more. " From that time I was led, through a course of private prayer, reading, and meditation, to see my lost estate as a sinner, and the great mercy of God through Jesus Christ, in raising sinful dust and ashes to a share in the glorious happiness of heaven. And, O sir ! what a Saviour I have found ! He is more than I could ask or desire. In his fulness I have found all that my poverty could need : in his bosom I have found a resting-place from all sin and sorrow ; in his word I have found strength against doubt and unbelief." " Were you not soon convinced," I said, " that your salvation must be an act of entire grace on the part of God, wholly independent of your own previous works or deservings]" " Dear sir, what were my works before I heard that ser« 82 THE dairyman's daughter. mon, but evil, carnal, selfish, and ungodly ? The thoughts of my heart, from my youth upward, were only evil, and that continually. And my deservings, what were they, but the deservings of a fallen, depraved, careless soul, that regarded neither law nor gospel 1 Yes, sir, I immediately saw that if ever I was saved, it must be by the free mercy of God, and that the whole praise and honor of the work would be his from first to last." " What change did you perceive in yourself with respect to the world ?" " It appeared all vanity and vexation of spirit. I found it necessary to my peace of mind to come out from among them and be separate. I gave myself to prayer ; and many a happy hour of secret delight I enjoyed in commu- nion with God. Often I mourned over my sins, and some- times had a great conflict through unbelief, fear, tempta- tion to return back again to my old ways, and a variety of difficulties which lay in my way. But He who loved me with an everlasting love, drew me by his loving-kindness, showed me the way of peace, gradually strengthened me in my resolutions of leading a new life, and taught me, that while without him I could do nothing, I yet might do all things through his strength." " Did you not find many difficulties in your situation, owing to your change of principle and practice ?" " Yes, sir, every day of my life. I was laughed at by some, scolded at by others, scorned by enemies, and pitied by friends. I was called hypocrite, saint, false deceiver, and many more names which were meant to render me hateful in the sight of the world. But I esteemed the reproach of the cross an honor. I forgave and prayed for my persecutors, and remembered how very lately THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 8^ I had acted the same part towards others myself. I thought also that Christ endured the contradiction of sin- ners ; and, as the disciple is not above his Master, I was glad to be in any way conformed to his sufferings." " Did you not then feel for your family at home '?" " Yes, that I did indeed, sir ; they were never out of ray thoughts. I prayed continually for them, and had a long- ing desire to do them good. In particular I felt for my father and mother, as they were getting into years and were very ignorant and dark in matters of religion." " Ay," interrupted her mother, sobbing, " ignorant and dark, sinful and miserable we were, till this dear Betsy — — this dear Betsy — this dear child, sir, brought Christ Jesus home to her poor father and mother's house." " No, dearest mother, say rather, Christ Jesus brought your poor daughter home, to tell you what he had done for her soul, and, I hope, to do the same for yours." At this moment the Dairyman came in with two pails of milk hanging from the yoke on his shoulders. He had stood behind the half-opened door for a few moments, and heard the last sentences spoken by his wife and daughter. "Blessing and mercy upon her !" said he, "it is very true ; she left a good place of service on purpose to live with us that she might help us both in soul and body. Sir, don't she look very ill 1 I think, sir, we shan't have her here long." " Leave that to the Lord," said Elizabeth. " All our times are in his hand, and happy it is that they are. I am willing to go ; are not you willing, my father, to part with me into his hands, who gave me to you at first V* " Ask me any question m the world but that," said the weeping father. 84 THE dairyman's daughter. " I know," said she, " you wish me to be happy." " I do, I do," answered he : " let the Lord do with you and U9 as best pleases him." I then asked her, on what her present consolations chiefly depended, in the prospect of approaching death. " Entirely, sir, on my view of Christ. When I look at myself, many sins, infirmities, dnd imperfections cloud the image of Christ which I want to see in my own heart. But when I look at the Saviour himself, he is altogether lovely ; there is not one spot in his countenance, nor one cloud over all his perfections. " I think of his coming in the flesh, and it reconciles me to the sufferings of the body ; for he had them as well as I. I think of his temptations, and believe that he is able to succor me when I am tempted. Then I think of his cross, and learn to bear my own. I reflect on his death, and long to die unto sin, so that it may no longer have dominion over me. I sometimes think on his resurrection, and trust that he has given me a part in it, for I feel that my affections are set upon things above. Chiefly I take comfort in thinking of him as at the right hand of the Father, pleading my cause, and rendering acceptable even my feeble prayers, both for myself, and, as I hope, for my dear friends. " These are the views which, through mercy, I have of my Saviour's goodness ; and they have made me wish and strive in my poor way to serve him, to give myself up to him, and to labor to do my duty in that state of life into which it has pleased him to call me. " A thousand times I should have fallen and fainted, if he had not uphold me. I feel that I am nothing without him. He is all in all. THE dairyman's dai/ghter, 85 " Just so far as I can cast my care upon him, I find strength to do his will. May he give me grace to trust him till the last moment ! I do not fear death, because I believe that he has taken avt^ay its sting. And O ! what happiness beyond ! — Tell me, sir, whether you think I am right. I hope I am under no delusion. I dare not look for my hope in any thing short of the entire fulness of Christ. When I ask my own heart a question, I am afraid to trust it, for it is treacherous, and has often deceived me. But when I ask Christ, he answers me with pro- mises that strengthen and refresh me, and leave me no room to doubt his power and will to save. I am in his hands, and would remain there ; and I do believe that he will never leave nor forsake me, but will perfect the thing that concerns me. He loved me, and gave himself for me, and I believe that his gifts and callings are without repentance. In this hope I live, in this hope I wish to die.'' I looked around me, as she was speaking, and thought, " Surely this is none other than the house of God, and the gate of heaven." Every thing appeared neat, cleanly, and interesting. The afternoon had been rather overcast with dark clouds ; but just now the setting sun shone brightly and somewhat suddenly into the room. It was reflected from three or four rows of bright pewter plates and white earthen-ware, arranged on shelves against the wall ; it also gave brilliancy to a few prints of sacred subjects that hung there also, and served for monitors of the birth, bap- tism, crucifixion, and resurrection of Christ. A large map of Jerusalem, and an hieroglyphic of " the old and new man," completed the decorations on that sidq of the room. Clean as was the whitewashed wall, it was not cleaner than the rest of the place and its furniture. 86 THE dairyman's daughter. Seldom had the sun enlightened a house, where order and general neatness (those sure attendants of pious poverty) were more conspicuous. This gleam of setting sunshine was emblematical of the bright and serene close of this young Christian's de- parting season. One ray happened to be reflected from a little looking-glass upon her face. Amidst her pallid and decaying features there appeared a calm resignation, tri- umphant confidence, unaffected humility, and tender anx- iety, which fully declared the feelings of her heart. Some further affectionate conversation, and a short prayer, closed this interview. As I rode home by departing daylight, a solemn tran- quillity reigned throughout the scene. The gentle lowing of cattle, the bleating of sheep just penned in their folds, the humming of the insects of the night, the distant mur- mur of the sea, the last notes of the birds of day, and the first warblingii of the nightingale, broke upon the ear, and served rather to increase than lessen the peaceful serenity of the evening, and its corresponding effects on my own mind. It invited and cherished just such meditations as my visit had already inspired. Natural scenery, when viewed in a Christian mirror, frequently affords very beautiful illustrations of divine truths. We are highly favored, when we can enjoy them, and at the same time draw near to God in them. THE DAIRYMAN S DAUGHTER. PART VII. It is a pleasing consideration, that, amidst the spiritual darkness which unhappily prevails in many parts of the imd, God nevertheless has a people. It not unfrequently happens that single individuals are to be found, who, though very disadvantageoasly situated with regard to the ordi- nary means of grace, have received truly saving impres- sions, and through a blessing on secret meditation, read- ing, and prayer, are led to the closest communion with God, and become eminently devoted Christians. It is the no small error of too many professors of the present day, to overlook or undervalue tlie instances of this kind which exist. The religious profession and opinions of some have too much of mere machinery in their composition. If every wheel, pivot, chain, spring, cog, or pinion, be not exactly in its place, or move not precisely according to a favorite and prescribed system., the whole is rejected as unworthy of regard. But happily " the Lord knoweth them that are his ;" nor is the impression of his own seal wanting to characterize some, who, in comparative seclusion from the religious world, " name the name of Christ, and depart from iniquity." There are some real Christians so peculiarly circum- stanced in this respect, as to illustrate the Poet's beauti- ful comparison, " Full many a gem of purest ray serene The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear; F ill many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert aii." 88 THE dairyman's daughter. Yet this was not altogether the case with the Dairy- man's daughter. Her religion had indeed ripened in se- clusion from the world, and she was intimately known but to few ; but she lived usefully, departed most happily, and left a shining track behind "her. While I attempt a faint delineation of it, may I catch its influence, and become, through inexpressible mercy, a follower of " them, who through faith and patience inherit the promises !" From the time wherein I visited her, as described in my last paper, I considered her end as fast approaching. One day I received a hasty summons to inform me that she was dying. It was brought by a soldier, whose counte- nance bespoke seriousness, good sense, and piety. " I am sent, sir, by the father and mother of Elizabeth W , at her own particular request, to say, how much they all wish to see you. She is going liome, sir, very fast indeed." " Have you known her long ?" " About a month, sir ; I love to visit the sick ! and hear- ing of her case from a person who lives close by our camp, I went to see her. I bless God that ever I did go. Her conversation has been very profitable to me." " I rejoice," said I, " to see in you, as I trust, a brother soldier. Though we differ in our outward regimentals, I hope we serve under the same spiritual Captain. I will go with you." My horse was soon ready. My military companion walked by my side, and gratified me with very sensible and pious conversation. He related some remarkable tes timonies of the excellent disposition of the Dairyman's daughter, as they appeared from recent intercourse which he had had with her. THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 89 " She is a brjght diamond, sir," said the soldier, " and will soon shine brighter than any diamond upon earth." We passed through lanes and fields, over hills and val leys, by open and retired paths, sometimes crossing over, and sometimes following the windings of a little brook, which gently murmured by the road-side. Conversation beguiled the distance, and shortened the apparent time of our journey, till we were nearly arrived at the Dairyman's cottage. As we approached it, we became silent. Thoughts of death, eternity, and salvation, inspired by the sight of a house where a dying believer lay, filled my own mind, and, I doubt not, that of my companion also. No living object yet appeared, except the Dairyman's dog, keeping a kind of mute watch at the door ; for he did not, as formerly, bark at my approach. He seemed to partake so far of the feelings appropriate to the circum- stances of the family, as not to wish to give a hasty or painful alarm. He came forward to the little wicket-gate, then looked back at the house-door, as if conscious there was sorrow within. It was as if he wanted to say, " tread softly over the threshold, as you enter the house of mourn- ing ; for my master's heart is full of grief." The soldier took my horse and tied it up in a shed. A solemn serenity appeared to surround the whole place : it was only interrupted by the breezes passing through the large elm-trees,- which stood near the house, and which my imagination indulged itself in thinking were plaintive sighs of sorrow. I gently opened the door ; no one ap- peared, and all was still silent. The soldier followed ; we came to the foot of the stairs. 8* 90 THE DAIRYMA.n's DAUGHTER. " They arc come," said a voice, which I knew to be the father's ; " they are come." He appeared at the top : I gave him my hand and said nothing. On entering the room above, I saw the aged mother and her son supporting the much-loved daughter and sister : the son's wife sat weeping in a window-seat, with a child on her lap ; two or three persons attended in the room to discharge any office which friendship or necessity might require. I sat down by the bedside. The mother could not weep, but now and then sighed deeply, as she alternately looked at Elizabeth and at me. The big tear rolled down the brother's cheek, and testified an affectionate regard. The good old man stood at the foot of the bed, leaning upon the post, and unable to take his eyes off the child from whom he was so soon to part. Elizabeth's ey€s were closed, and as yet she perceived me not. But over the face, though pale, sunk, and hol- low, the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, had cast a triumphant calm. The soldier, after a short pause, silently reached out his Bible towards me, pointing with his finger at 1 Cor. xv. 55, 5G, 57. I then broke silence by reading the passage, " O death, where is thy sting 1 O grave, where is thy victory 1 the sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the law. But thanks be to God which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ." At the sound of these words her eyes opened, and some- thing like a ray of divine light beamed on her countenance, as she said, "Victory, victory ! through our Lord Jesus Christ." She relapsed again, taking no further notice of any one present. THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 91 " God be praised for the triumph of faith !" said I. " Amen !" replied the soldier. The Dairyman's uplifted eye showed that the Amen was in his heart, though his tongue failed to utter it. A short struggling for breath took place in the dying young woman, which was soon over ; and then I said to her, " My dear friend, do you not feel that you are sup- ported]" " The Lord deals very gently with me," she replied. "Are not his promises now very precious to you?" " They are all yea and amen in Christ Jesus." " Are you in much bodily pain V " So little, that I almost forget it." " How good the Lord is !" " And how unworthy am I !" " You are going to see him as he is." " I think 1 hope 1 believe that I am." She again fell into a short slumber. Looking at her mother, I said, " What a mercy to have a child so near heaven as yours is !" " And what a mercy," she replied, in broken accents, " if her poor old mother might but follow her there ! But, sir, it is so hard to part !" " I hope through grace by faith you will soon meet, to part no more : it will be but a little while." « Sir," said the" Dairyman, " that thought supports me, and the Lord's goodness makes me feel more reconciled than I was." " Father mother," said the reviving daughter, " he is good to me trust him, praise him evermore." " Sir," added she, in a faint voice, " I want to thank you 92 •ni£ dairyman's daughter. for your kindness to me 1 want to ask a favor ; • you buried my sister will you do the #ame for me ?" " All shall be as you wish, if God permit," I replied. " Thank you, sir, thank you ; 1 have another favor to ask When I am gone, remember my father and mo- ther. They are old, but I hope the ji^ood work is begun in their souls My prayers are heard Pray come and see them — I cannot speak much, but I want to speak for their sakes Sir, remember them." The aged parents now sighed and sobbed aloud, utter- ing broken sentences, and gained some relief by such an expression of their feelings. At length I said to Elizabeth, " Do you experience any doubts or temptations on the subject of your eternal safety V " No, sir ; the Lord deals very gently with me, and gives me peace." " What are your views of the dark valley of death, now that you are passing through it ?" " It is not dark." " Why so V " My Lord is there, and he is my light and my salvation." " Have you any fears of more bodily suffering ?" " The Lord deals so gently with me ; I can trust him." Something of a convulsion came on. When it was past, she said again and again, " The Lord deals very gently with me. Lord, I am thine, save me Blessed Jesus precious Saviour-. His blood cleanseth from all sin Who shall separate 1 His name is Wonderful Thanks be to God He giveth us the victory, 1, even I, am saved O grace, mercy, and wonder Lord, receive my spirit ! THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 93 Dear sir, dear father, mother, friends, I am going but all is well, well, well " She relapsed again — We knelt down to prayer — The Lord was in the midst of us, and blessed us. She did not again revive while I remained, nor ever speak any more words which could be understood. She slumbered for about ten hours, and at last sweetly fell asleep in .the arms of that Lord, who had dealt so gently with her. I left the house an hour after she had ceased to speak. I pressed her hand as I was taking leave, and said, " Christ is the resurrection and the life." She gently returned the pressure, but could neither open her eyes, nor utter a reply. I never had witnessed a scene so impressive as this be- fore. It completely filled my imagination as I returned home. " Farewell," thought I, " dear friend, till the morning of an eternal day shall renew our personal intercourse. Thou wast a brand plucked from the burning, that thou mightest become a star shining in the firmament of glory. I have seen thy light and thy good works, and will there- fore glorify our Father which is in heaven. I have seen, in thy example, w^hat it is to be a sinner freely saved by grace. I have learned from thee, as in a living mirror, who it is that begins, continues, and ends the work of faith and love. Jesus is all in all : he will and shall be glorified. He won the crown, and alone deserves to wear it. May no one attempt to rob him of his glory ! He saves, and saves to the uttermost. Farewell, dear sister in the Lord. Thy flesh and thy heart may fail ; but God is the strength of tly heart, and shall be thy portion for ever. 94 THE dairyman's daughter. PART VIII. Who can conceive or estimate the nature of that change which the soul of a believer must experience at the mo- ment when, quitting its tabernacle of clay, it suddenly enters into the presence of God ] If, even while " we see through a glass darkly," the views of divine love and wis- dom are so delightful to the eye of faith ; what must be the glorious vision of God, when seen face to face ? If it be so valued a privilege here on earth to enjoy the com- munion of saints, and to take sweet counsel together with our fellow-travellers towards the heavenly kingdom ; what shall we see and know when we finally " come unto mount Zion, and unto the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to the innumerable company of angels, to the general assembly and church of the first-born which are written in heaven, and to God the Judge of all, and to the spirits of just men made perfect, and to Jesus the Mediator of the new covenant V If, during the sighs and tears of a mortal pilgrimage, the consolations of the Spirit are so precious, and the hope full of immortality is so animating to the soul ; what heart can conceive, or what tongue utter its superior joys, when arrived at that state, where sighing and sorrow flee away, and the tears shall be wiped from every eye 1 Such ideas were powerfully associated together in my imagination, as I travelled onward to the house, where, in solemn preparation for the grave, lay the remains of the Dairyman's daughter. She had breathed her last shortly after the visit related THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 95 in my former account. Permission was obtained, as before in the case of her sister, that I should perform the funeral service. Many pleasing yet melancholy thoughts were connected with the fulfilment of this task. I retraced the numerous and important conversations which I had held with her. But these could now no longer be maintained on earth. I reflected on the interesting and improving na- ture of Christian friendships, whether formed in palaces or in cottages ; and felt thankful that I had so long en- joyed that privilege with the subject of this memorial. I then indulged a selfish sigh for a moment, on thinking that I could no longer hear the great truths of Christianity ut- tered by one who had drunk so deep of the waters of the river of life. But the rising murmur was checked by the animating thought ; " She is gone to eternal rest — could I wish her back again in this vale of tears ]" At that moment, the first sound of a tolling bell struck my ear. It proceeded from a village church in the valley directly beneath the ridge of a high hill, over which I had taken my way. — It was Elizabeth's funeral knell. The sound was solemn ; and in ascending to the ele- vated spot over which I rode, it acquired a peculiar tone and character. Tolling at slow and regular intervals, (as was customary for a considerable time previous to the hour of burial,) the bell, as it were, proclaimed the blessed- ness of the dead who die in the Lord, and also the neces- sity of the living pondering these things, and laying them to heart. It seemed to say, " Hear my warning voice, thou son of man. There is but a step between thee and death. Arise, prepare thine house, for thou shalt die, and not live." The scenery was in unison with that tranquil frame of 9b THE DAIRYMAN S DAUGHTER. mind which is most suitable for holy meditation. A rich and fruitful valley lay immediately beneath ; it was adorn- ed with cornfields and pastures, through which a small river winded in a variety of directions, and many herds grazed upon its banks. A fine range of opposite hills, covered with grazing flocks, terminated with a bo d sweep into the ocean, whose blue waves appeared at a distance beyond. Several villages, hamlets, and churches, were scattered in the valley. The noble mansions of the rich, and the lowly cottages of the poor, added their respective features to the landscape. The air was mild, and the de- clining sun occasioned a beautiful interchange^of light and shade upon the sides of the hills. In the midst of this scene, the chief sound that arrested attention was the bell tolling for the funeral of the Dairyman's daughter. Do any of my readers inquire why I describe so mi- nutely the circumstances of pro&pect and scenery which may be connected with the incidents I relate 1 My reply is, that the God of redemption is the God of creation like- wise ; and that we are taught in every part of the Word of God to unite the admiration of the beauties and wonders of nature' to every other motive for devotion. When Da- vid considered the heavens, the work of God's fingers, the moon and the stars, which he has ordained, he was thereby led to the deepest humiliation of heart before his Maker. And when he viewed the sheep and the oxen and the beasts of the field, the fowl of the air and the fish of the sea, he was constrained to cry out, " O Lord, our Lord ! how excellent is thy name in all the earth !" I am the Poor Man's Friend, and wish more especially that every poor laboring man should know how to connect the goodness of God in creation and providence with the THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 97 unsearchable riches of his grace in the salvation of a sin- ner. And where can he learn this lesson more instruc- tively than in looking around the fields where his labor is appointed, and there tracing the handy-work of God in all that he beholds 1 Such meditations have often afforded me both profit and pleasure, and I wish my readers to share them with me. The Dairyman's cottage was rather more than a mile distant from the church. A lane, quite overshaded with trees and high hedges, led from the foot of the hill to hie dwelling. It was impossible at that time to overlook the suitable gloom of such an approach to the house of mourning. I found, on my entrance, that several Christian friends, from different parts of the neighborhood, had assembled together, to pay their last tribute of esteem and regard to the memory of the Dairyman's daughter. Several of them had first become acquainted with her during the latter stage of her illness : some few had maintained an affec- tionate intercourse with her for a longer period. But all seemed anxious to manifest their respect for one who was endeared to them by such striking testimonies of true Christianity. I was requested to go intO' the chamber where the rela- tives and a few other friends were gone to take a last look at the remains of Elizabeth. It is not easy to describe the sensation which the mind experiences on the first sight of a dead countenance, which, when living, was loved and esteemed for the sake of that soul which used to give it animation. A deep and awful view of the separation that has taken place between the soul and body of the deceased, since we last beheld 9 98 THE dairyman's daughter. them, occupies the feelings ; our friend seems to be both near, and yet far off. The most interesting and valuable part is fled away ; what remains is but the earthly perish- ing habitation, no longer occupied by its tenant. Yet the features present the accustomed association of friendly in- tercourse. For one moment, we could think them asleep. The next reminds us that the blood circulates no more ; the eye has lost its power of seeing, the ear of hearing, the heart of throbbing, and the limbs of moving. Quick- lyj a thought of glory breaks in upon the mind, and we imagine the dear departed soul to be arrived at its long- wished-for rest. It is surrounded by cherubim and seraphim, and sings the song of Moses and the Lamb on Mount Zion. Amid the solemn stillness of the cham- ber of death, imagination hears heavenly hymns chanted by the spirits of just men made perfect. In another mo- ment, the livid lips and sunken eye of the clay-cold corpse recall our thoughts to earth, and to ourselves again. And while we think of mortality, sin, death, and the grave, we feel the prayer rise in our bosom, " O let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his !" If there be a moment when Christ and salvation, death, judgment, heaven, and hell, appear more than ever to be momentous subjects of meditation, it is that which brings ns to the side of a coffin containing the body of a departed believer. Elizabeth's features were altered, but much of her like- ness remained. Her father and mother sat at the head, her brother at the foot, of the coffin. The father silently and alternately looked upon his dead child, and then lifted up his eyes to heaven. A struggle for resignation to the will of God was manifest in his countenance ; while the THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 99 tears, rolling down his aged cheeks, at the same time de- clared his grief and affection. The poor mother cried and sobbed aloud, and appeared to be much overcome by the shock of separation from a daughter so justly dear to her. The weakness and infirmity of old age added a character to her sorrow, which called for much tenderness and com- passion. A remarkably decent-looking woman, who had the man- agement of the few simple though solemn ceremonies which the case required, advanced towards me, saying, " Sir, this is rather a sight of joy than of sorrow. Our dear friend, Elizabeth, finds it to be so, I have no doubt. She is beyond all sorrow : do you not think she is, sir 1" " After what I have known, and seen, and heard," I replied, " I feel the fullest assurance, that while her body remains here, her soul is with her Saviour in Paradise. She loved him liere, and there she enjoys the pleasures which are at his right hand for evermore." " Mercy, mercy upon a poor old creature almost broken down with age and grief ! — What shall I do 1 — Betsy's gone. My daughter's dead. — O my child ! I shall never see thee more. — God be merciful to me a sinner !" sobbed out the poor mother. " That last prayer, my dear good woman," said I, " will bring you and your child together again. It is a cry that has brought thousands to glory. It brought your daugh- ter there, and I hope it will bring you thither likewise. God will in no wise cast out any that come to him." " My dear," said the Dairyman, breaking the long silence he had maintained, " let us trust God with our child ; and let us trust him with our own selves. The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away ; blessed be the name of 100 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. the Lord ! We are old, and can have but a little further to travel in our journey, and then " he could say no more. The soldier, mentioned in my last paper, reached a Bible into my hand, and said, " Perhaps, sir, you would not object to reading a chapter before we go to the church?" I did so ; it was the fourteenth of the book of Job. A sweet tranquillity prevailed while I read it. Each minute that was spent in this funeral chamber seemed to be val- uable. I made a few observations on the chapter, and connected them with the case of our departed sister. " I am but a poor soldier," said our military friend, " and have nothing of this world's goods beyond my daily sub- sistence ; but I would not exchange my hope of salvation in the next world, for all that this world could bestow without it. What is wealth without grace ] Blessed be God ! as I march about from one quarters to another, I still find the Lord wherever I go ; and thanks be to his holy name, he is here to-day in the midst of this company of the living and the dead. I feel that it is good to be here." Some other persons present began to take a part in our conversation, in the course of which the life and expe- rience of the Dairyman's daughter were brought forward in a very interesting manner. Each friend had something to relate in testimony of her gracious disposition. A young w^oman under twenty, who had hitherto been a very light and trifling character, appeared to be remarkably im- pressed by the conversation of that day ; and I have since had ground to believe that divine grace then began to in- fluence her in the choice of that better part, which shall not be taken from her. THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 101 What a contrast does such a scene as this exhibit, when compared with the dull, formal, unedifying, and often in- decent manner, in which funeral parties assemble in the house of death ! As we conversed,, the parents revived. Our subject of discourse was delightful to their hearts. Their child seemed' almost to be alive again, while we talked of her. Tearful smiles often brightened their countenances, as they heard the voice of friendship uttering their daugh- ter's praises ; or rather the praises of Him, who had made her a vessel of mercy, and an instrument of spiritual good to her family. The time for departing to the church was now at hand. I went to take my last look at the deceased. There was much written on her countenance. She had evidently died with a smile. It still remained, and spoke the tranquillity of her departed soul. According to the custom of the country, she was decorated with leaves and flowers in the coffin : she seemed as a bride gone forth to meet the bridegroom. These, indeed, were fading flowers, but they reminded me of that paradise whose flowers are immortal, and where her never-dying soul is at rest. • I remembered the last words which I had heard her speak, and was instantly struck with the happy thought, that " death was indeed swallowed up in victory." As I slowly retired, I said, inwardly, " Peace, my hon- ored sister, be to thy memory and to my soul, till we meet in a better world." In a little time the procession formed : it was rendered the more interesting by the consideration of so many that followed the coffin being persons of a devoted and spiritual 9* 102 THE dairyman's daughter. character. The distance was rather more than a mile. I resolved to continue with and go before them, as they moved slowly onward. Immediately after the body came the venerable father and mother,* bending with age, and weeping through much affliction of heart. Their appearance was calculated to excite every emotion of pity, love, and esteem. The other relatives followed them in order, and the several attendant friends took their places behind. After we had advanced about a hundred yards, my med- itation was unexpectedly and most agreeably interrupted by the friends who attended beginning to sing a funeral psalm. Nothing could be more sweet or solemn. The well-known effect of the open air in softening and blend- ing the sounds of music, was here peculiarly felt. The road through which we passed was beautiful and roman- tic. It lay at the foot of a hill, which occasionally re- echoed the voices of the singers, and seemed to give faint replies to the notes of the mourners. The funeral knell was distinctly heard from the church tower, and greatly increased the effect which this simple and becoming ser- vice produced. We went by ^veral cottages : a respectful attention was universally observed as we passed : and the counte- nances of many proclaimed their regard for the departed young woman. The singing was regularly continued, * The mother died not long after her daughter ; and 1 have good reason to believe that God was merciful to her, and took her to himself. An interesting account of a visit recently made to the Dairyman's cottage, appeared in the Christian Guardian, for October, 1813.— A still more recent visit to the good old Dairyman (who still lives, at the age of 82) has been made by the author of this narrative. {June, 1814.) The good old Dairyman died m 1816.— His end was eminently Christian. THE DAIRYjVIAN's DAUGHTER. 103 with occasional intervals of about five minutes, during our whole progress. I cannot describe the state of my own mind as peculiarly connected with this solemn singing. I was reminded of elder times and ancient piety. I wished the practice more frequent. It seems well calculated to excite and cherish devotion and religious affections. Music, when judiciously brought into the service of re- ligion, is one of the most delightful, and not least effica- cious means of grace. I pretend not too minutely to conjecture as to the actual nature of those pleasures which, after the resurrection, the reunited body and soul will enjoy in heaven ; but I can hardly persuade myself that melody and harmony will be wanting, when even the sense of hearing shall itself be glorified. We at length arrived at the church. Looking upward, as I drew near the church, I observed a dial on the wall. The sun's declining rays directed the shadow to the even- ing hour. As I passed underneath this simple but solemn monitor, I was reminded of the lapse of time, the uncer- tainty of life, and sure approach of eternity. I thought with David, " We are strangers before thee, and sojourn- ers, as were all our fathers ; our days on the earth are as a shadow, and there is none abiding." " Lord, so teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom." The service was heard with deep and affectionate atten- tion. When we came to the grave, the hymn which Elizabeth had selected was sung. All was devout, simple, animating. We committed our dear sister's body to the earth, in full hope of a joyful resurrection from the dead. Thus was the veil of separation drawn for a season. 104 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. She is departed and no more seen. But she will be seen on the right hand of her Redeemer at the last day ; and will again appear to his glory, a miracle of grace and mon- ument of mercy. My reader, rich or poor, shall you and I appear there likewise 1 Are we " clothed with humility," and arrayed in the wedding garment of a Redeemer's righteousness 1 Are we turned from idols to serve the living God ] Are we sensible of our own emptiness, and therefore flying to a Saviour's fulness to obtain grace and strength 1 Do we indeed live in Christ, and on him, and by him, and with him? Is he our all in alH Are we "lost and found?" "dead and alive again?" My poor reader, the Dairyman's daughter was a poor girl, and the child of a poor man. Herein thou resemblest her : but dost thou resemble her, as she resembled Christ? Art thou made rich by faith ? Hast thou a crown laid up for thee ? Is thine heart set upon heavenly riches ? If not, read this story once more, and then pray earnestly for like precious faith. But if, through grace, Ihou dost love and serve the Re deemer that saved the Dairyman's daughter, grace, peace, and mercy be with thee ! The lines are fallen unto thee in pleasant places : thou hast a goodly heritage. Press forward in duty, and wait upon the Lord, possessing th} soul in holy patience. Thou hast just been with me to the gravfi of a departed believer. Now " go thy way, till the end be ; for thou shalt rest, and stand in thy lot at the end of the days." APPENDIX The first two letters were addressed by the Dairyman's daughter to her father. I of course omit those passages which are strictly personal and private. LETTER I. TO MR. JOSEPH WALLBRIDGE. Southampton, Feb, 23, 1797 My dear and honored Father, ***** And now, my dear father, I do not know what to say to change the scene. I suppose you were a little alarmed the other day, when the fleet of colliers came in, and they were taken for French. It was reported here that they were landed at several places ; and we should have soon been over in the island for shelter from them : as if by that means we could " flee from the wrath to come," or stay the hand of an almighty and justly avenging God, who, for the sins of mankind, has sent his judgments abroad in the earth. And even now we are ready to say 106 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. to that God who hath so long withheld the sword of ven- geance from destroying us, and still extends his everlasting arms of mercy to save us — " Depart from us" — for we desire not the knowledge of him. But I hope, my dear father, that the Lord will have mercy on tis, and bring us out of that gross darkness into his marvellous light, and BCt our feet on that rock that is higher than we are. But we are informed by the word of God, that if we would have all these blessings bestowed on us, we must fix all our hopes and our faith on the blessed Lamb of God that was slain to redeem the fallen children of Adam. For "as in Adam all died, so shall all" true believers "in Christ be made alive" to God : and then, my dear father, we may say, " Prisoners of hope, lift up your heads, The day of liberty draws near ; Jesus, who on the serpent treads. Shall soon in your behalf appear : The Lord will to his temple come, Prepare your hearts to make him room." My dear father, I hope that God will not suffer sickness or death ever to surprise us unaw^ares, or find us in a state unprepared. ****** Please to give my duty to my dear and tender mother, and accept the same yourself, and love to dear brothers and sisters ; and may the blessed Spirit of God be very powerful in all your hearts to root out every evU. THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 107 LETTER II. Southampton, April 11, 1797. My dear Father, I have been silent longer than I should, had my dear sister written before ; but, as I know all things are guided and governed by Him whom my soul loveth, I wait patiently his appointed time. O, my dear father, it is good to trust in him, to call upon him, to honor his holy name. O, if you have not tasted how good and gracious the Lord is, then turn and seek him while he may be found. None ever sought his glorious face in vain ; and those " that come unto me (saith the dear Lamb of God) I will in no wise cast out." No : his tender love, pity, and compassion never fail to poor sinners. No : though my dear mother and father have lived to near the time that my God hath said shall be the age of man ; and ye have still been sin- ning and grieving, and hiding, as it were, your faces from that God who is still pursuing you with his love and mercy, yea, even the blessed Jesus, who is still making interces- sion for sinners at his Father's right hand. And - " When justice bared the sword To cut the fig-tree down, The pity of my Lord Cried, let it still alone : The Father mild, inclined his ear, And spares us yet another year." But remember, my dear friends, his blessed words : "My Spirit shall not always strive with man:" and, "ex- 108 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. cept. you are born again, ye cannot inherit the kingdom of heaven;'' and if you are not washed in the precious blood of that dear Lamb of God, you can have no part with him ; and if his Spirit does not " bear witness with your spirit" that your are born of God, you are still in your sins, and strangers to the blood that bought you on the tree. Oh ! my daily prayer to God is, that he will "turn you, and so shall you be turned." Oh! the dear Redeemer still waits to be gracious ; he is ever ready to pardon your sins, and seal it with his precious blood; he is ever calling, "Come unto me, all ye that do labor and are heavy laden" with the burden of your sins, "and I will give you rest." Then I entreat you, my dear friends, in the name of the most high God, that ye turn and lay hold of the ever-blessed Jesu as your shield of faith, and he will arm you with the whole armor of God. But remember this : though God is full of love and mercy, yet he will be sought unto. Then draw nigh unto God in secret prayer, and God will draw nigh unto your precious souls, and that to bless them ; and will say unto you, Believe on me, " my grace is sufficient for you," I will cleanse you in my precious blood ; and then shall your leprosy be healed, and you shall return without spot. And then you must watch and pray to him continually to keep you clean. Oh ! he is always more ready to hear than we are to pray, and more ready to give than we to ask. Remember, my dear father, that the lan- guage of every prayerless and unconverted soul is, " Depart from me, O God ;" for we desire not the knowledge of the Most High. Then put off the evil day no longer, lest you should hear him say, who is willing and able to save to the uttermost those that come unto him, "I have stretched out my hand all the day long, and no man regarded." And THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 109 " behold I knock at the door of every man's heart, and to him that openeth unto me I will come in, and sup with him, and he with me." My dear father, those are blessed and comfortable words ; and I am his living witness, and I "set to my seal" that Jesus is true. O the happy state of the children of God ! Now I ask and receive : I seek and I find him whom my soul loveth ; yea, I always find I have a very near access, through his blessed intercession, to supplicate the throne of grace ; and now I can say, " Before the throne my surety stands, My name is written on his hands ;" and now I am so filled with the peace and love of God, that I can lift up my soul and say, " My God, I know, 1 feel thee mine, And will not quit my claim. Till all I have is lost in tliine, And all renewed I am ;" " Where'er 1 am, where'er 1 move, I meet the object of my love." The Lord doth so strengthen my faith in him, that I find all his promises stand engaged to make me blessed. O may God pardon what his poor unworthy dust has written, through ignorance, which is not agreeable to his most blessed will, which I will ever seek to fulfil ! * * * ^ifc * * . I have so little taste for the conversation of this world, that it is very unpleasant to think on it. My sister's love and duty to all. Mr. B. will be in the island soon, please God, and then you are to write to her. Desire my brother to write too, and direct her to the house of God in Bath, 10 110 THE DAIKYMAN's DAUGHTER. for she is still walking in darkness, and is ignorant of it. O may the Lord be graciously pleased to bring you all into his marvellous light, that you may praise him in time and eternity : then strive to enter in at the strait gate. . . . If the Lord shall please to spare me, I hope to see you ere long ; if not in this world, in that where we shall bask in unutterable bliss. My dear friends, take not this advice amiss from your unworthy child ; it is the command of my blessed Lord, " when thou art converted, remember thy brethren :" and I daily take up my cross and follow him whithersoever he goeth : and I pray God enable you to do the same. O how should I rejoice and praise my God to see you enabled, through the inspiration of the Spirit of the Most High, to answer this ill- written letter ! — Farewell, in the Lord, dear friends. The third letter is to her sister. LETTER in. Cowes, October 14, 1798. My dear Sister, I have not had a convenient opportunity to write till now : I hope you have not been unhappy at my long si- lence. Consider that God is my keeper, therefore "I shall lack no manner of thing that is good." I entreat you to commend the keeping of your soul, spirit, and body, to the Lord, for he is a promise-making, and a true and faithful promise-keeping God. THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. Ill "Then let me commend my Saviour to you, The publican's friend and advocate too." My dear, I say that God is my keeper : you will say, he is yours — it is true, for " in him we all live, move, and have our being;" but I can say with Job, "I know that ray Redeemer liveth," and " He is now pleading his merits and death, And still interceding for sinners beneath:" and he is waiting to be gracious to you, for he is long- suffering and kind, plenteoifs in goodness ; his love and mercy know no end nor bounds, and his compassions fail not : now, my dear, ^ " Ready for you the angels wait, To triumph in your blest estate: Tuning their harps, they long to praise The wonders of redeeming grace." O my dear sister, search the scriptures diligently ; pray to God earnestly ; for in so doing, you will Jfind that he is a God " nigh at hand, and not afar off." He has promised to be found of those that seek him ; for none ever sought his face in vain, neither did ever any trust in him, and was -deceived. O my dear sister, if you did but believe how willing God is to reveal his Son in your heart, the hope of glory ! O how would your soul be ravished, if Christ would appear to you the altogether lovely, and the first among ten thousand ! Then could you say those blessed words, «My soul, through my Redeemer's love, Saved from the second death I feel : My eyes from fears of dark despak, My feet from falling into hell. 112 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. " Wherefore my feet to him shall run, My eyes on his perfections THE YOUNG COTTAGER. PART I. When a serious Christian turns his attention to the barren state of the wilderness through which be is travel- ling, frequently must he heave a sigh for the sins and sor- rows of his fellow mortals. The renewed heart thirsts with holy desire, that the Paradise, which was lost through Adam, may be fully regained in Christ But the over- flowings of sin within and without, the contempt of sacred institutions, the carelessness of soul, the pride of unbelief, the eagerness of sensual appetite, the ambition for worldly greatness, and the deep-rooted enmity of the carnal heart against God : these things are as " the fiery serpents and scorpions, and drought," which distress his soul, as he journeys through "that great and terrible wilderness." Sometimes, like a solitary pilgrim, he " weeps in secret places," and "rivers of waters run down his eyes, because men keep not the law of God." Occasionally he meets with a few fellow-travellero, whose spirit is congenial with his own, and with whom he 14 159 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. can take "sweet counsel together." They comfort and strengthen each other by the way. Each can relate some- thing of the mercies of his God, and how kindly they have been dealt with, as they travelled onward. The dreari- ness of the path is thus beguiled, and now and then, for awhile, happy experiences of the divine consolation cheer their souls ; " the wilderness and the solitary place is glad for them ; the desert rejoices and blossoms as the rose." But even at the very time when the Christian is taught to feel the peace of God which passeth all understanding, to trust that he is personally interested in the blessings of salvation, and to believe that God will promote his own glory by glorifying the penitent sinner ; yet sorrows will mingle with his comforts, and he will rejoice not without trembling, when he reflects on the state of other men. The anxieties connected with earthly relations are all alive in his soul, and, through the operation of the Spirit of God, become sanctified principles and motives for action. As the husband and father of a family, as the neighbor of the poor, the ignorant, the wicked, and the wretched ; above all, as the spiritual overseer of the flock, if such be his holy calling, the heart which has been taught to feef for its own case, will abundantly feel for others. But when he attempts to devise means in order to stem the torrent of iniquity, to instruct the ignorant, and to con- vert the sinner from the error of his way, he cannot help crying out, "Who is sufficient for these things'?" Unbe- lief passes over the question, and trembles. But faith quickly revives the inquirer with the cheerful assurance, that " our sufficiency is of God," and saith, " Commit thy way unto the Lord, and he shall bring it to pass." When he is thus affectionately engaged for the good of THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 159 mankind, he will become seriously impressed with the necessity of early attentions to the young in particular. Many around him are grown gray-headed in sin, and give but little prospect of amendment. Many of the parents and heads of families are so eagerly busied in the profits, pleasures, and occupations of the world, that they heed not the warning voice of their instructor. Many of their elder children are launching out into life, headstrong, unruly, "earthly, sensual, devilish;" they likewise treat the wis- dom of God as if it were foolishness. But, under these discouragements, we may often turn with hope to the very young, to the little ones of the flock, and endeavor to teach them to sing Hosannas to the son of David, before their minds are wholly absorbed in the world and its allure- ments. We may trust that a blessing shall attend such labors, if undertaken in faith and simplicity, and that some at least of our youthful disciples, like Josiah, while they are yet young, may begin to seek after the God of their fathers. Such an employment, especially when blessed by any actual instances of real good produced, enlivens the mind with hope, and fills it with gratitude. We are thence led to trust that the next generation may become more fruitful unto God than the present, and the church of Christ be replenished with many such as have been called into the vineyard " early in the morning." And should our endeav- ors for a length of time apparently fail of success, yet we ought not to despair. Early impressions and convic- tions of conscience have sometimes lain dormant for years, and at last revived into gracious existence and maturity. It was not said in vain, " Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it." 160 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. What a gratifying occupation it is to an affectionate mind, even in a way of nature, to walk tlirough the fields, and lead a little child by the hand, enjoying its infantile prattle, and striving to improve the time by some kind word of instruction ! I wish that every Christian pilgrim in the way of grace, as he walks through the Lord's pastures, would try to lead at least one little child by the hand ; and perhaps whilst he is endeavoring to guide and preserve his young and feeble companion, the Lord will recompense him double for all his cares, by comforting his own heart in the attempt. The experiment is worth the trial. It is supported by this recollection : " The Lord will come with strong hand, and his arm shall rule for him. Behold his reward is with him, and his work before him. He shall feed his flock like a shepherd, he shall gather the lambs with his arms, and carry them in his bosom, and shall gently lead those that are with young. ^^ I shall plead no further apology for introducing to the notice of my readers a few particulars relative to a young female Cottager, whose memory is particularly endeared to me, from the circumstance of her being, so far as I can trace or discover, my first-born spiritual child in the min- istry of the gospel. She was certainly the first, of whose conversion to God under my own pastoral instruction, I can speak with precision and assurance. Every parent of a family knows that there is a very in- teresting emotion of heart connected with the birth of his first-born child. Energies and affections, to which the mind has hitherto been almost a stranger, begin to unfold themselves and expand into active existence, when he first is hailed as a father. But may not the spiritual father be allowed the possession and indulgence of a similar sensation THE YOUNG COTTAGER. ^ 161 in his connection with the children whom the Lord gives him, as begotten through the ministry of the word of life ? If the first-born child in nature be received as a new and acceptable blessing; how much more so the first-born child in grace ! I claim this privilege ; and crave permis- sion, in writing what follows, to erect a monumental record, sacred to the memory of a dear little child, who, I trust, will, at the last day, prove my crown of rejoicing. Jane S was the daughter of poor parents, in the vil- lage where it pleased God first to cast my lot in the min- istry. My acquaintance with her commenced, when she was twelve years of age, by her weekly attendance at my house amongst a number of children whom I invited and regularly instructed every Saturday afternoon. They used to read, repeat catechisms, psalms, hymns, and portions of scripture. I accustomed them also to pass a kind of free conversational examination, according to their age and ability, in those subjects by which I hoped to see them made wise unto salvation. On the summer evenings I frequently used to assemble this little group out of doors in my garden, sitting under the shade of some trees, which protected us from the heat of the sun. From hence a scene appeared which rendered my occupation the more interesting. For adjoining the spot where we sat, and only separated from us by a fence, was the churchyard, surrounded with beautiful prospects in every direction. There lay the mortal remains of thousands, who from age to age, in their different generations, had been suc- cessively committed to the grave, " earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust." Here, the once-famed ancestors of the rich, and the less known forefathers of the poor, lay 14* 162 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. mingling their dust together, and alike waiting the resur- rection from the dead. I had not far to look for subjects of warning and ex- hortation suitable to my little flock of lambs that I was feeding. I could point to the heaving sods that marked the different graves and separated them from each other, and tell my pupils, that, young as they were, none of them were too young to die : and that probably more than half of the bodies which were buried there, were those of little children. I hence took occasion to speak of the nature and valwe of a soul, and to ask them where they expected their souls to go when they departed hence and were no more seen on earth. I told them who was the "resurrection and the life," and who alone could take away the sting of death. I used to remind them that the hour was " coming, in the which all that are in the graves shall hear his voice, and shall come forth ; they that have done good unto the resurrection of life ; and they that have done evil unto the resurrection of damnation." I often availed myself of these opportunities to call to their recollection the more recent deaths of their own relatives, that lay buried so near us. Some had lost a parent, others a brother or sister ; some perhaps had lost all these, and were committed to the mercy of their neigh- bors, as fatherless and motherless orphans. Such circum- stances were occasionally useful to excite tender emotions, favorable to serious impressions. Sometimes I sent the children to the various stones which stood at the head of the graves, and bid them learn the epitaphs inscribed upon them. I took pleasure in see- ing the little ones thus dispersed in the churchyard, each committing to memory a few verses written in commemo- THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 163 ration of the departed. They would soon accomplish the desired object, and eagerly return to me ambitious to repeat their task. Thus my churchyard became a book of instruction, and every grave-stone a leaf of edification for my young dis- ciples. The church itself stood in the midst of the ground. It was a spacious antique structure. Within those very walls I first proclaimed the message of God to sinners. As these children surrounded me, I sometimes pointed to the church, spoke to them of the nature of public worship, the value of the Sabbath, the duty of regular attendance on its services, and urged their serious attention to the means of grace. I showed them the sad state of many countries, where neither churches nor Bibles were known ; and the no less melancholy condition of multitudes at home, who sinfully neglect worship, and slight the Word of God. I thus tried to make them sensible of their own favors and privileges. Neither was I at a loss for another class of objects around me, from which I could draw useful instruction : for many of the beauties of created nature appeared in view. Eastward of us extended a large river or lake of sea- water, chiefly formed by the tide, and nearly enclosed by land. Beyond this was a fine bay and road for ships, filled with vessels of every size, from the small sloop or cutter to the first-rate man of war. On the right hand of the liaven rose a hill of peculiarly beautiful form and consider- able height. Its verdure was very rich, and many hundred sheep grazed upon its sides and summit. From the op- posite shore of the same water a large sloping extent of bank was diversified with fields, woods, hedges, and cot- 164 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. tages. At its extremity stood, close to the edge of tlie sea itself, the remains of the tower of an ancient church, still preserved as a sea-mark. Far beyond the bay, a very dis- tant shore was observable, and land beyond it; trees, towns, and other buildings appeared, more especially when gilded by the reflected rays of the sun. To the southwest of the garden was another down covered also with flocks of sheep, and a portion of it fringed with trees. At the foot of this hill lay the village, a part of which gradually ascended to the rising ground on which the church stood. From the intermixture of houses with gardens, orchards, and trees, it presented a very pleasing aspect. Several fields adjoined the garden on the east and north, where a number of cattle were pasturing. My own little shrub- beries and flower-beds variegated the view, and recom- pensed my toil in rearing them, as well by their beauty as their fragrance. Had the sweet Psalmist of Israel sat in this spot, he would have glorified God the Creator by descanting on these his handy-works. I cannot write Psalms like David ; but I wish in my own poor way to praise the Lord for his goodness, and to show forth his wonderful works to the children of men. But had David been also surrounded with a troop of young scholars in such a situation, he would once more have said, " Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings hast thou ordained strength." I love to retrace these scenes — they are past, but the recollection is sweet. I love to retrace them — for they bring to my mind many former mercies, which ought not, for the Lord's sake, to be forgotten. THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 165 I love to retrace tliem — for they reassure me that, in the course of that private ministerial occupation, God was pleased to give me so valuable a fruit of my labors. Little Jane used constantly to appear on these weekly seasons of instruction. I made no very particular observa- tions concerning her during the firSt twelve months or more after her commencement of attendance. She was not then remarkable for any peculiar attainment. On the whole, I used to think her rather more slow of apprehen- sion than most of her companions. She usually repeated her task correctly, but was seldom able to make answers to questions for which she was not previously prepared with replies — a kind of extempore examination in which some of the children excelled. Her countenance was not engaging, her eye discovered no remarkable liveliness. She read tolerably well, took pains, and improved in it. Mildness and quietness marked her general demeanor. She was very constant in her attendance on public wor- ship at the church, as well as on my Saturday instruction at home. But, generally speaking, she was little noticed, except for her regular and orderly conduct. Had I then been asked, of which of my young scholars I had formed the most favorable opinion, poor Jane might probably have been altogether omitted in the list. How little do we oftentimes know what God is doing in other people's hearts ! What poor calculators and judges we frequently prove, till he opens our eyes ! His thoughts are not our thoughts ; neither are pur ways his ways. Once, indeed, during the latter part of that year, I was struck with her ready attention to my wishes. I had, agreeably to the plan above mentioned, sent her into the churchyard to commit to memory an epitaph which I ad- 166 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. mired. On her return she told me, that, in addition to what I had desired, she had also learned another, which was inscribed on an adjoining stone ; adding, that she thought it a very pretty one. I thought so too, and perhaps my readers will be of the same opinion. Little Jane, though dead, yet shall speak. While I transcribe the lines, I can powerfully imagine that I hear her voice repeating them ; the idea is exceed- ingly gratifying to me. EPITAPH OX MRS. A. B. Forgive, blest shade, the tributary tear, That mourns thy exit from a world like this Forgive the wish that would have Itept tliee here, And stay'd thy progress to the seats, of bliss. No more confin'd to grov'lling scenes of night, No more a tenant pent in mortal clay, Now should we rather hail thy glorious flight, And trace thy jouniey to the realms of day. The above was her appointed task ; and the other, which she voluntarily learned and spoke of with pleasure, is this : EPITAPH, ON THE STONE ADJOINHNG. It must be so — Our father Adam's fall. And disobedience, brought this lot on all. All die in him— But hopeless should we be, Blest Revelation ! were it not for tliee. Hail, glorious Gospel ; heavenly light, whereby We live with comlort, and with comfort die ; And view beyond this gloomy scene the tomb, A life of endless happiness to come. THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 167 I afterward discovered that the sentiment expressed in the latter epitaph had much affected her. But at the pe- riod of this httle incident I knew nothing of her mind. I had comparatively overlooked her. I have often been sorry for it since. Conscience seemed to rebuke me, when I afterward discovered what the Lord had been doing for her soul, as if I had neglected her. Yet it was not done designedly. She was unknown to us all ; except that, as I since found out, her regularity and abstinence from the sins and follies of her young equals in age and station brought upon her many taunts and jeers from others, which she bore very meekly. But at that time I knew it not. I was young myself in the ministry, and younger in Christian experience. My parochial plans had not as yet assumed such a principle of practical order and inquiry, as to make me acquainted with the character and conduct of each family and individual in my flock. I was then quite a learner, and had much to learn. And what am I now 1 — A learner still : and if I have learned any thing, it is this, that I have every day more and more yet to learn. Of this I am certain ; that my young scholar soon became my teacher. I Jirsi saw what true religion could accomplish, in witnessing her expe- rience of it. The Lord once " called a little child unto him, and set him in the midst of his disciples," as an em- blem and an illustration of his doctrine. But the Lord did more in the case of little Jane. He not only called 7ier, as a child, to show, by a similitude, what conversion means ; but he also called her by his grace to be a vessel of mercy and a living witness of that almighty power and love, by which her own heart was turned to God. 168 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. PART II. There is no illustration of the nature and character of the Redeemer's kingdom on earth which is more grateful to contemplation, than that of the shepherd and his flock. Imagination has been accustomed from our earliest child- hood to wander amongst the fabled retreats of the Arca- dian shepherds. We have probably often delighted our- selves in our own native country, by witnessing the in- teresting occupation of the pastoral scene. The shep- herd, tending his flock on the side of some spacious hill, or in the hollow of a sequestered valley ; folding them at night, and guarding them against all danger ; leading them from one pasture to another, or for refreshment to the cooling waters — these objects have met and gratified our eyes, as we travelled through the fields, and sought out creation's God amidst creation's beauties. The poet and the painter have each lent their aid to cherish our de- light in these imaginations. Many a descriptive verse has strengthened our attachment to the pastoral scene, and many a well- wrought picture has occasioned ittoglow like a reality in our ideas. But far more impressively than these causes can possi- bly effect, has the Word of God endeared the subject to our hearts, and sanctified it to Christian experience. Who does not look back with love and veneration to those days of holy simplicity, when patriarchs of the church of God lived in tents and watched their flocks 1 With what a strength and beauty of allusion do the Prophets refer to the intercourse between the shepherd and flock for an THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 169 illustration of the Saviour's kingdom on earth ! The Psalmist rejoiced in the consideration that the Lord was his Shepherd, and that therefore he should not want. The Redeemer himself assumed this interesting title, and declared that " his sheep hear his voice, he knows them and they follow him, and he gives unto them eternal life." Perhaps at no previous moment was this comparison ever expressed so powerfully, as when his risen Lord gave the pastoral charge to the lately offending but now peni- tent disciple, saying, " Feed my sheep." Every principle of grace, mercy, and peace, met together on that occasion. Peter had thrice denied his Master : his Master now thrice asked him, " Lovest thou me V Peter each time appealed to his own, or to his Lord's consciousness of what he felt within his heart. As often Jesus committed to his care the flock which he had purchased with his blood. And that none might be forgotten, he not only said, "Feed my sheep," but, " Feed my lambs," also. May every instructor of the young keep this injunction enforced on his conscience and affections ! — I return to lit- tle Jane . It was about fifteen months from the first period of her attendance on my Saturday school, when I missed her from her customary place. Two or three weeks had gone by, without my making any particular inquiry respecting her. I was at |ength informed that she was not well. But, apprehending no peculiar cause for alarm, nearly two months passed away without any further mention of her name being made. At length a poor old woman in the village, of whose re- ligious disposition I had formed a good opinion, came and 15 170 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. said to me, " Sir, have not you missed Jane S at your house on Saturday afternoons ]" " Yes," I replied, " I believe she is not well." " Nor ever will be, I fear," said the woman. *' What, do you apprehend any danger in the case V *' Sir, she is very poorly indeed, and I think is in a de- cline. She wants to see you, sir ; but is afraid you would not come to see such a poor young child as she is." " Not go where poverty and sickness may call me ! how can she imagine so ] at which house does she live ]" " Sir, it is a poor place, and she is ashamed to ask you to come there. Her near neighbors are noisy, wicked people, and her own father and mother are strange folks. They all make game at poor Jenny, because she reads her Bible so much." " Do not tell me about poor places, and wicked people : that is the very situation where a minister of the gospel is called to do the most good. I shall go to see her ; you may let her know my intention." " I will, sir ; I go in most days to speak to her, and it does one's heart good to hear her talk." " Indeed !" said I : " what does she talk about ?" " Talk about, poor thing ! why, nothing but good things, such as the Bible, and Jesus Christ, and life, and death, and her soul, and heaven, and hell, and your discourses, and the books you used to teach her, sir. Her father says he'll have no such godly doings in his house ; and her own mother scoffs at her, and says she supposes Jenny counts herself better than other folks. But she does not mind all that. She will read her books, and then talk so pretty to her mother, and beg that she would think about her soul." THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 171 " The Lord forgive me," thought I, " for not being more attentive to this poor child's case." I seemed to feel the importance of infantine instruction more than ever I had done before, and felt a rising hope that this girl might prove a kind of first fruits of my labors. I now recollected her quiet, orderly, diligent attendance on our little weekly meetings ; and her marked approbation of the epitaph, as related in my last paper, rushed into my thoughts. " I hope, I really hope," said I, " this dear child will prove a true child of God. And if so, what a mercy to her, and what a mercy for me !" The next morning I went to see the child. Her dwell- ing was cf the humblest kind. It stood against a high bank of earth, which formed a sort of garden behind it. It was so steep that but little would grow in it ; yet that little served to show not only, on the one hand, the poverty of its owners, but also to illustrate the happy truth, that even in the worst of circumstances the Lord does make a kind provision for the support of his creatures. The front aspect of the cottage was chiefly rendered pleasing, by a honeysuckle, which luxuriantly climbed up the wall, en.. closing the door, windows, and even the chimney, with its twining branches. As I entered the house-door, its flow- ers put forth a very sweet and refreshing smell. Intent on the object of my visit, I at the same moment offered up silent prayer to God, and entertained a hope, that the welcome fragrance of the shrub might be illustrative of that all-prevailing intercession of a Redeemer, which I trusted was, in the case of this little child, as " a sweet smelling savor" to her heavenly Father. The very flow- ers and leaves of the garden and field are emblematical of higher things, when grace teaches us to make them so. 172 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. Jane was in bed up stairs. I found no one in the house with her, except the woman who had brought me the mes- sage on the evening before. The instant I looked on the girl I perceived a very marked change in her countenance : it had acquired the consumptive hue, both white and red. A delicacy unknown to it before quite surprised me, owing to the alteration it produced in her look. She received me first with a very sweet smile, and then instantly burst into a flood of tears, just sobbing out, " I am so glad to see you, sir !" " I am very much concerned at your being so ill, my child, and grieved that I was not sooner aware of your state. But I hope the Lord designs it for your good." Her eye, not her tongue, powerfully expressed, "I hope and think he does." " Well, my poor child, since you can no longer come to see me, I will come and see you, and we will talk over the subjects which I have been used to explain to you." " Indeed, sir, I shall be so glad." " That I believe she will," said the woman ; " for she loves to talk of nothing so much as what she has heard you say in your sermons, and in the books you have given her." " Are you really desirous, my dear child, to be a true Christian V " O ! yes, yes, sir ; I am sure I desire that above all things." I was astonished and delighted at the earnestness and simplicity with which she spoke these words. " Sir," added she, " I have been thinking as I lay on my bed for many weeks past, how good you are to in- THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 173 Btruct us poor children ; what must become of us with- out it '" " I am truly glad to perceive that my instructions have not been lost upon you, and pray God that this your pre- sent sickness may be an instrument of blessing" in his hands to prove, humble, and sanctify you. My dear child, you have a soul, an immortal soul to think of ; you remem- ber what I have often said to you about the value of a soul : ' What would it profit a man to gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?' " " Yes, sir, I remember well you told us, that when our bodies are put into the grave, our souls will then go either to the good or the bad place." " And to which of these places do you think that, as a sinner in the sight of God, you deserve to go f" " To the bad one, sir." " What, to everlasting destruction!" " Yes, sir." « Why so ■]" "Because I am a great sinner." " And must all great sinners go to hell?" " They all deserve it ; and I am sure I do." " But is there no way of escape ! Is there no way for a great sinner to be saved!" " Yes, sir, Christ is the Saviour." "And whom does he save!" « All believers." "And do you believe in Christ yourself!" " I do not know, sir ; I wish I did ; but I feel that I love him." "What do you love him for!" " Because he is good to poor children's souls like mine." 15* 174 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. " What has he done for you]" " He died for me, sir ; and what could he do more V* " And what do you hope to gain by his death?" " A good place when I die, if I believe in him and love him." " Have you felt any uneasiness on account of your soul ?" " O ! yes, sir, a great deal. When you used to talk to us children on Saturdays, I often felt as if I could hardly bear it, and wondered that others could seem so careless. I thought I was not fit to die. I thought of all the bad things I had ever done and said, and believed God must be very angry with me ; for you often told us, that God would not be mocked ; and that Christ said, if we were not converted we could not go to heaven. Sometimes I thought I was so young it did not signify : and then again it seemed to me a great sin to think so : for I knew I was old enough to see what was right and what was wrong ; and so God had a just right to be angry when I did wrong. Besides, I could see that my heart was not right : and how could such a heart be fit for heaven ? Indeed, sir, I used to feel very uneasy." " My dear Jenny, I wish I had known all this before. Why did you never tell me about it?" " Sir, I durst not. Indeed, I could not well say what was the matter with me : and I thought you would look upon me as very bold if I had spoke about myself to such a gentleman as you : yet I often wished that you knew what I felt and feared. Sometimes, as we went away from your house, I could not help crying ; and then the other children laughed and jeered at me, and said I was going to be very good, they supposed, or at least to make people think so. Sometimes, sir, I fancied you did not THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 175 think so well of me as of the rest, and that hurt me ; yet I knew I deserved no particular favor, because I was the chief of sinners." " My dear, what made St. Paul say he was the chief of sinners ] In what verse of the Bible do you find this ex- pression, 'the chief of sinners :' — can you repeat it]" " ' This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all accepta- tion, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners :' is not that right, sir!" " Yes, my child, it is right ; and I hope that the same conviction which St. Paul had at that moment, has made you sensible of the same truth. Christ came into the world to save sinners : my dear child, remember now and for evermore, that Christ came into the world to save the chief of sinners." " Sir, I am so glad he did. It makes me hope that he will save me, though I am a poor sinful girl. Sir, I am very ill, and I do not think I shall ever get well again. I want to go to Christ, if I die." " Go to Christ while you live, my dear child, and he will not cast you away when you die. He that said, ' Suffer little children to come unto me,' waits to be gracious to them, and forbids them not. " What made you first think so seriously about the state of your soul?" " Your talking about the graves in the churchyard, and telling us how many young children were buried there. I remember you said one day, near twelve months ago, ' Children ! where will you be a hundred years hence ? Children ! where do you think you shall go when you die 1 Children ! if you were to die to-night, are you sure you should go to Christ and be happy V Sir, I never 176 . THE YOUNG COTTAGER. shall forget your saying, 'Children,' three times togethei in that solemn way." " Did you never before that day feel any desire about your soul?" " Yes, sir ; I think I first had that desire almost as soon as you began to teach us on Saturday afternoons ; but on that day I felt as I never did before. I shall never forget it. All the way as I went home, and all that night, these words were in my thoughts : 'Children ! where do you think you shall go, when you die V I thought I must leave off all my bad ways, or where should I go when I died?" " And what effect did these thoughts produce in your mind]" " Sir, I tried to live belter, and I did leave off many bad ways ; but the more I strove, the more difficult I found it, my heart seemed so hard : and then I could not tell any one my case." " Could not you tell it to the Lord, who hears and an- swers prayer?" " My prayers (here she blushed and sighed) are very poor at the best, and at that time I scarcely knew how to pray at all, as I ought. But I did sometimes ask the Lord for a better heart." There was a character in all this conversation which marked a truly sincere and enlightened state of mind. She spoke with all the simplicity of a child, and yet the seriousness of a Christian. I could scarcely persuade myself that she was the same girl I had been accustomed to see in past time. Her countenance was filled with in- teresting affections, and always spoke much more than her tongue could utter. At the same time she now possessed an ease and liberty in speaking, to which she had formerly THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 177 been a stranger : nevertheless, she was modest, hum- ble, and unassuming. Her readiness to converse was the result of spiritual anxiety, not childish forwardness. The marks of a divine change were too prominent to be easily- mistaken ; and in this very child, I, for the first time, wit- nessed the evident testimonies of such a change. How encouraging, how profitable to my own soul ! " Sir," continued little Jane, " I had one day been think- ing that I was neither fit to live nor die : for I could find no comfort in this world, and I was sure I deserved none in the other. On that day you sent me to learn the verse on Mrs. B 's headstone, and then I read that on the one next to it." " I very well remember it, Jenny ; you came back, and repeated them both to me." " There were two lines in it which made me think and meditate a great deal." " Which were they ]" " ' Hail, glorious Gospel, heavenly light, whereby We live with comfort, and with comfort die.' I wished that glorious gospel was mine, that I might live and die with comfort ; and it seemed as if I thought it would be so. I never felt so happy in all my life before. The words were often in my thoughts, ' Live with comfort, and with comfort die.' ' Glorious gospel' indeed ! I thought." " My dear child, what is the meaning of the word gos- pel 1" " Good news." " Good news for whom V *' For wicked sinners, sir." " Who sends this good news for wicked sinners V* 178 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. " The Lord Almighty." " And who brings this good news 1" " Sir, you brought it to me" Here my soul melted in an instant, and I could not re- press the tears which the emotion excited. The last answer was equally unexpected and affecting. I felt a father's tenderness and gratitude for a new and first-born child. Jane wept likewise. After a little pause she said, " O sir ! I wish you would speak to my father, and mo- ther, and little brother • for I am afraid they are going on very badly." " How so ?" " Sir, they drink, and swear, and quarrel, and do not like what is good : and it does grieve me so, I cannot bear it. If I speak a word to them about it they are very angry, and laugh, and bid me be quiet, and not set up for their teacher. Sir, I am ashamed to tell you this of them, but I hope it is not wrong ; I mean it for their good." " I wish your prayers and endeavors for their sake may be blessed : I will also do what I can." I then prayed with the child, and promised to visit her constantly. As I returned home, my heart was filled with thankful- ness for what I had seen and heard. Little Jane appeared to be a first-fruits of my parochial and spiritual harvest. This thought greatly comforted and strengthened me in my ministerial prospects. My partiality to the memory of little Jane will probably induce me to lay some further particulars before the reader. THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 179 PART III. Divine grace educates the reasoning faculties of the soul, as well as the best affections of the heart ; and hap- pily consecrates them both to the glory of the Redeemer. Neither the disadvantages of poverty, nor the inexperience of childhood, are barriers able to resist the mighty influ- ences of the Spirit of God, when " he goeth forth where he listeth." — " God hath chosen the foolish things of this world to confound the wise ; and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty." The truth of this scriptural assertion was peculiarly evident in the case of my young parishioner. Little Jane's illness was of a lingering nature. I often visited her. The soul of this young Christian was grad- ually, but effectually, preparing for heaven. I have sel- dom witnessed in any older person, under similar circum- stances, stronger marks of earnest inquiry, continual seriousness, and holy affections. One morning, as I was walking through the churchyard, in my way to visit her, I stopped to look at the epitaph which had made such a deep impression on her mind. I was struck with the re-^ flection of the important consequences which might result from a more frequent and judicious attention to the in- scriptions placed in our burying-grounds, as memorials of the departed. The idea occurred to my thoughts, that a? the two stone tables given by God to Moses were once a mean of communicating to the Jews, from age to age, the revelation of God's wilf as concerning the law ; so these funeral tables of stone may, under a better dispensation, 180 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. bear a never-failing proclamation of God's good-will tc sinners as revealed in the gospel of his grace, from gene- ration to generation. I have often lamented, when in- dulging a contemplation among the graves, that some of the inscriptions were coarse and ridiculous ; others, ab- surdly flattering ; many, expressive of sentiment at vari- ance with the true principles of the word of God ; not a few, barren and unaccompanied with a single word of use- ful instruction to the reader. Thus a very important op- portunity of conveying scriptural admonition is lost. I wish that every grave-stone might not only record the name of our deceased friends, but also proclaim the name of Jesus, as the only name given under heaven, whereby men can be saved. Perhaps, if the ministers of religion were to interest themselves in this manner, and accus- tom their people to consult them as to the nature of the monumental inscriptions which they wish to introduce into churches and churchyards, a gradual improvement would take place in this respect. What is offensive, use- less, or erroneous, would no longer find admittance, and a succession of valuable warning and consolation to the liv- ing would perpetuate the memory of the dead. What can be more disgusting than the too common spectacle of trifling, licentious travellers, wandering about the churchyards of the different places through which they pass, in search of rude, ungrammatical, ill-spelt, and absurd verses among the grave-stones ; and this for the gratification of their unholy scorn and ridicule ! And yet how much is it to bfe deplored that such persons are sel- dom disappointed in finding many instances which too readily afford them the unfeeling satisfaction which they seek ! I therefore oflfer this suggestion to my reverend THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 181 brethren, that as no monument or stone can be placed in a church or churchyard without their express consent or approbation, whether one condition of that consent being granted, should not be a previous inspection and approval of every inscription which may be so placed within the precincts of the sanctuary. The reader will pardon this digression, which evidently arose from the peculiar connection established in little Jane's history, between an epitaph inscribed on a grave- stone, and the word of God inscribed on her heart. When 1 arrived at Jane's cottage, I found her in bed, reading Dr. Watts's Hymns for Children, in which she took great pleasure. " What are you reading this morning, .T