rrz:),TT'tnif^i\r-;'- m np j. George Mogridge- MEMOIR OLD HUMPHREY WITH ^kuniitp fxmx \n "^axMw, IN PROSE AND VERSE. r^>, IPaJ^dpljiHt AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION, No. 316 CHESTNUT STREET. NEW YORK No. 147 NASSAU ST. BOSTON- No. 9 CORNHILL CINCINNATI: 41 WEST FOURTH ST. LOUISVILLE: No. 103 FOURTH ST. /^ss- Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855, hy the AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION, in the Clerk^s Office of the District Court of the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. 4®= No hools are published by the American Sunday-School Union without the sanction of the Committee of Publication, consisting of four- teen members, from the following denominations of Christians, viz. Bap- tist, Methodist, Congregational, Episcopal, Presbyterian, Lutheran, and Reformed Dutch . Not more than three of the members can be of ^he same denomination, and no book can be published to which any member of the Committee shall object. CONTENTS. PAGE I. Early Life '. 9 II. Enters on a Literary Career 23 III. Assumes the Name of " Old Humphrey" 43 IV. Old Humphrey as a Tourist ^ 64 V. Old Humphrey in Domestic and Social Life 75 VI. Last Days of Old Humphrey 114 ^z fodfolb. The Old Man on the Ridgy Point 144 Hallelujah! 149 The Loss of Children 154 A New Carol for Christmas Day 162 A Leaf from the Book of Affliction 165 The Sunny Sabbath 172 Old Humphrey at Hastings 179 The Night-Season 186 7 8 CONTENTS. PAGE Is there a God? 190 How do you get on? 192 The Wreck..... 198 What are your Points? 202 Old Humphrey on Birthdays 207 Old Humphrey to his Honoured Ancient, on her Ninetieth Bii-thday 216 Old Humphrey on Mitigations 218 Do you know how much you are worth? 224 Anticipation of Heaven 232 The Blackberry-Gatherer 233 Sweet and Soothing 237 Moody Minds and Sunny Spirits 243 Haste to the Cross 248 MEMOIE ''OLD- HUMPHREY/' CHAPTER I. EARLY LIFE. There is a natural desire in the mind to become acquainted witli those who have instructed and delighted us by their writings ; and the feeling of curiosity is the stronger when a mysterious disguise has been thrown over their persons and social posi- tion. Many have been the inquiries, " Who is Old Humphrey?'' and not a few have been the inge- nious devices to penetrate the vail which he had modestly drawn around him. While living, there were reasons why he should have been unknown ; but now that he has laid down his pen and passed from scenes of useful labour, the vail may be raised, that those who admired his cheerful and godly counsels may be permitted to cherish the memory of his name with affectionate respect. There is 10 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. also a duty to the sacred cause of religion when a good man dies — one who has exercised a powerful influence over the feelings and sentiments of thou- sands — to present some record, however brief, of the fruits of the gracious operation of the Holy Spirit in him, as manifested by his life and labours. That service of Christian friendship we now attempt to discharge. ^&" When this covering is withdrawn, ^'Old Hum- phrey" appears in the person of Mr. George MoGRiDGE, a native of Ashted, one of the suburbs of the town of Birmingham, England. He was born on the 17th of February, 1787. His grand- father, the Rev. Anthony Mogridge, was vicar of Kimbolton, Worcestershire; his father was exten- sively engaged as a canal agent — a profitable business in former times, in which he was very successful. His parents appear to have been estimable pers-ons, of decidedly religious character, whose consistent example and afi'ectionate conduct were ever held in grateful remembrance by their son. The home- scenes of his childhood were recalled in after life with pious satisfaction. In advancing age he thus gave expression to the power of a mother's piety : — My mother taught my infant tongue — A tear was in her eye — To lisp in prayer, with holy things, The name of the Most High ; EARLY LIFE. 11 To pray that G-od would make me fit To go to heaven — and smiled : I i)ut up now the very prayer She taught me when a child. The approving smiles of his father and mother were given to his earliest attempts at literary composi- tion, which was not without an influence on his future progress. The first rudiments of his education were re- ceived at a village school. At the age of five, he left home for a boarding establishment. In a brief autobiographical sketch he left behind him, he thus refers to this period of his life : " The school was in the small village of Boarcote, about a mile from Bromsgrove. Tradition says the name was given to the place on account of a huge wild boar that hid himself in the woods there, ravaging the country around. How this may be, I know not ; the wildest boar that I ever saw in the place was my schoolmas- ter, a man of uncultivated mind and ungovernable temper. I am doing no injustice to his memory in representing him as one of little knowledge, strong prejudices, and unreasonable severity. So strangely, on one occasion, did his violence operate on my mind, that, smarting with the indignity of being smitten with his fist, I ran away from school, a course of conduct which I afterwards bitterly la- mented. Yet, regarding my old master through the softening influence of years, I have some aff'ec- 12 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. tion for liim in my heart. My schoolmistress, whose tender, gentle, and persuasive voice even now grate- fully returns on my memory, used to give us kind and Christian counsel, though she herself had re- ceived even less education than her austere hus- band." In another paper his reminiscences of the master are referred to. "The celestial and ter- restrial globes are of necessity associated in my thoughts with a frowning face, an angry voice, and a clenched fist ; and the Latin grammar and a long- lashed hunting-whip are inseparably interwoven in my remembrance. He who has no other assistance in perfecting himself in his amo, amas, than that of a hunting-whip, may possibly retain the little he learns; but he is not likely greatly to love his Latin, or greatly to reverence the memory of his master." It is hoped that this schoolmaster is now only to be regarded as a specimen of an extinct genus, and that the days of the clenched fist and the riding-whip have departed forever. In contrast with the severity of the principal, was the gentleness of a tutor in the school, toward whom the susceptible boy felt the strongest attach- ment, and of whom he thus writes : "His frame was so delicately strung, that any violent emotion made him tremble from head to foot. He was learned, pious, and kind; but neither his piety, his kind- ness, nor his learning, could defend him, when ex- cited, from a high state of nervousness. Hardly EARLY LIFE. 13 would a fit of the palsy have affected liirn more visibly than any altercation with another. I re- member him with much affection, for the many acts of kindness he performed towards me.^' The affection of young George Mogridge for one of his school-fellows was almost romantic. This youth was the son of a merchant, high-spirited, of good abilities, and very daring. They read toge- ther books of adventure, became heroes in many boyish enterprises, and exerted a mutual influence on each other's conduct. This early associate after- wards resided for some time in Surinam, and then in Newfoundland. The vessel in which he set sail from the latter place for England, not being sea-worthy, was never heard of after she left the port. Mr. Mo- gridge, when in the decline of life, remarked that though he was able distinctly to call to memory the names, persons, and dispositions of more than three- score of his school-fellows, he was not aware that one of them had reached his own age : then, with his characteristic piety, he added : " Had I no other monitor to remind me of the long-suffering of my heavenly Father, surely this would put the words into my mouth, 'Who am I, Lord God, and what is my house, that thou hast brought me hitherto ?' '' At the age of fourteen he was placed as an ap- prentice to the business of a japanner. He well remembered his father encouraging him before he 2 14 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. went to the employment, by telling him that it was a kind of work in which he might engage with white ruffles on his wrists, without rumpling them, or soiling his fingers — a state of things, it is hardly necessary to say, he did not realize. The thoughts and aspirations of the youth soon soared above the ordinary engagements of trade. His father being a subscriber to the Birmingham General Library, the son had the opportunity of gratifying his eager desire after knowledge ; and a natural taste for poetry became confirmed by the perusal of some of the best English poets. Chaucer and the illustrious Spenser were especial favourites; and his brother was wont playfully to charge him with wearing out his copy of the '' Faerie Queene," from its being carried in his pocket. His early fondness for old ballads and tales of chivalry is de- scribed in some lines which he penned in after life:— And did the magic of romantic lays Seduce the leisure of my earlier days ? Did fancy spread her varied charms around, And leave me wandering o'er enchanted ground ? Oh yes ! and oft these transitory toys Have flung a sunbeam on my passing joys. And has the midnight taper wasted been In pondering legend hoar and fairy scene ? Have idle fictions o'er my fancy stole, And superstition's tale beguiled my soul ? They have ; and, spell'd by their mysterious power, Has roll'd away full many a rosy hour. EARLY LIFE. 15 Farewell, ye tales of terror, that control In mystic bonds the passions of the soul; Ye fabled haunts, where fays and genii dwell, And all ye legendary themes, farewell : Your fleeting joys I freely now resign; For ever let the Book of Truth be mine. During the term of his apprenticeship, young Mogridge employed his brief intervals of leisure in writing both prose and verse. His first appearance in print was in a local newspaper; the piece con- sisted of an address on the occasion of raising a statue to the memory of Lord Nelson. Another juvenile effusion was an inscription for a charity-box of the Infirmary, placed in the public room of the Talbot Hotel, Shrewsbury : — If thine the power to succour the distress'd, And this appeal should meet thy wandering eye, In pity, stranger, let it melt thy breast, To do some gentle deed of charity. If thou hast known the terrors of distress ; If thou hast felt the pangs of want and pain; Oh, let not worldly thrift the sigh suppress. Nor want implore, nor misery beg, in vain. E'en though no crowd admiring shall descry, Nor flattering tongue reveal the deed obscure, It shall not pass unheeded by that Eye Which beams around the treasury of the poor. Encouraged by his early attempts to secure the public notice, he soon became a contributor to 16 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. several of the periodicals of the day. He was a regular, though gratuitous, correspondent to Acker- man's '^Poetical Magazine)" and its editor was pro- fuse in his acknowledgments for his disinterested aid. He also contributed to several of Mr. Houl- ston's publications. As he was known to this worthy bookseller, and cherished much respect for him, he found considerable gratification in being permitted to give such literary assistance as he was able. Other pieces were sent anonymously to various periodicals and public journals. For three years the busy youth kept up, for the perusal of his friends, a manuscript magazine, " The Local Mis- cellany,'' every line in each monthly number, both of prose and verse, being supplied by his pen, with etched illustrations. Nor was his vanity a little aroused when he knew that the revered and phi- lanthropic Wilberforce had carried in his pocket one of these numbers for nearly a fortnight. When a little further advanced into manhood, he assumed and supported, for a considerable time, in a public journal, the character of an old man, entering so familiarly into the local occurrences of the neigh- bourhood for nearly half a century, that no one sus- pected that the head of the writer was uncovered with gray hairs. Thus, unconsciously, was he pluming his wings for other flights, and qualifying himself for more arduous undertakings. An acquaintance with Pratt, author of "The EARLY LIFE. 17 Gleaner" and numerous other works, and occasional interviews with Hutton^ the antiquarian, Dr. Mavor, and Dr. Adam Clarke, increased his inclination for reading, and stimulated him in his efforts at compo- sition ; and every interval of time was diligently se- cured for the exercise of his pen. In after life, Mr. Mogridge referred with peculiar satisfaction to some of the persons of distinction whom he saw in his early days. Among others were Lord Nelson and Mr. Wilberforce. A sight of the one arm and melancholy face of the former awakened sentiments of deep compassion for him who had at- tained to the highest pinnacle of human glory. His reminiscence of Mr. Wilberforce may be given in his own words. " In this chequered state of being, our brightest remembrances are often associated with shadows. Though so many years have rolled away since I set off with a friend to obtain for the first time in my life a glance at the philanthropist Wil- berforce, I have neither forgotten my enthusiastic emotions, nor the untoward circumstance which so sadly interfered with my pleasure. Understanding that Wilberforce was expected to attend divine service at a village church, at some ten or twelve miles distance, I could not resist my impatience to see him ; and in good time my friend and I were on our way to the village. When near the place, we called on a farmer, who described to us his pew at the church, where he said he hoped we should oc- 2* 18 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. cup J sittings. We were early ; my friend went to anotlier part of the cliurch^.but I proceeded to tlie farmer's pew. ^' While sitting in anxious expectation of the entrance of the philanthropist^ the pew was entered by a gentleman of somewhat haughty demeanor, who resided near, on a large estate. After regarding me for a little time, he inquired if I were a clergy- man, and on my answering in the negative, he told me that he could not answer for there being room enough in the seat to accommodate me and his friends. I told him that though I certainly was a stranger, the owner of the pew had requested me to occupy a sitting there, and the clerk had conducted me to it. He replied that on ordinary occasions there would be room, but that he then required the pew for his friends. Thus circumstanced, I, to my extreme mortification, left the pew and entered the adjoining one. ^^ What poor, proud creatures we are ! It was pride on the part of the gentleman that occasioned his churlishness ; for not knowing who I might be, he could not brook my sitting with so great a man as himself. And it was pride on my part that made me so keenly susceptible of what ought not to have affected me. Had we both attended the sanctuary with humble hearts, hungering and thirsting after spiritual good, we should have behaved in a very different manner. EARLY LIFE. . 19 '' After all, there were but four persons in the pew I had quitted, though there was room enough for more than double the number ; and my hat, which I had left on the seat, occupied the sitting abandoned by me. I thought, when after the service I re- quested the gentleman to favour me with my hat, that he looked not a little ashamed. I saw Wilber- force, certainly, but a cloud was on my spirit, and my enjoyment was lessened. There is a passage in God's holy word which says, ^Be not forgetful to entertain strangers:' Heb. xiii. 1. But this passage had not been regarded. Pride sadly militates against our peace. " The last time I saw him who at the church had wounded my pride, he was stepping out of his car- riage-and-four; and some time after, when giving directions to his work-people, who were felling tim- ber, a large tree fell on him and crushed him, and occasioned his death. Though he was taken, I am still left. ^Lord, make me to know mine end, and the measure of my days, what it is, that I may know how frail I am. Behold, thou hast made my days as an hand-breadth ; and mine age is as nothing before thee : verily every man at his best state is altogether vanity :' Ps. xxxix. 4, 5." On completing his articles of apprenticeship, Mr. Mogridge married Miss Elizabeth Bloomer, whom he had known from early youth. This union, which had the promise of much happiness, was not per- !0 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. mitted to be of long continuance; for, after well sustaining the part of an affectionate wife and an exemplary mother, she was called from the world at an early age. Her course was that of a Christian, and her end was peace. The bereaved husband re- mained a widower for a few years, and then again married. His second wife was Miss Mary Eids- dale. As the companion of the larger portion of his life, this lady rendered the most efficient service to her husband in his literary engagements. Scarcely a volume that he issued but was transcribed and prepared by her hand for the press. It has been her mournful satisfaction to minister to the comfort of her endeared husband in his seasons of sorrow, and to solace him in his passage through the closing hours of life. When about twenty-four years of age, Mr. Mo- gridge entered into partnership with his elder bro- ther as a japanner; and so long as the latter re- mained in the firm it was prosperous ; but after a time he retired in possession of a good property. The younger brother continued the business, but he confessed he had no aptitude for it. Too many ob- jects occupied his attention. He devoted too much time, for a young tradesman, to the public, as an overseer, guardian, and commissioner. His gene- rous feelings prompted him to give far too liberally — it may be said indeed improvidently — to every case which had the semblance of distress; and he de- EARLY LIFE. 21 voted to books and literature the hours which might, probably, have been better employed in the more active duties of life. The result was an abandon- ment of his position as a tradesman, with the entire loss of all his property. In reviewing this part of his history, he once observed : " I look back on this period of my life with keen regret. To be deprived of luxuries and limited in comforts is comparatively a light affliction ; but to bear humiliation and self- reproach, and still more to be undervalued and cen- sured by those who were before prodigal in praise, is a heavy burden to bear. I drank to the very dregs the bitter cup of calamity, for I found but little kindness, and much severity. The kindness I did experience is graven on my heart.'' It is not to be inferred from this language of self-condemna- tion that his moral character or commercial honour were compromised by an unfortunate issue to busi- ness. He was unsuccessful, but his uprightness and integrity were unimpeachable. His naturally keen susceptibilities and high sense of probity would incline him to scrutinize his conduct with much severity, when others might see little to censure or condemn. With a nature so sensitive, Mr. Mogridge felt keenly the withdrawal of the friendship of many who had professed much regard for him in days of his prosperity; nor was he less affected by the un- impaired confidence and tried faithfulness which 22 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. were manifested by a few in tliis time of trouble. When, in after life, lie had recovered, by his labour and talent, an influential position in society, he re- ferred to the conduct of his friends in the following poetical allegory : — THE STORM. A ship was stemming the ocean-tide, And oh, how gallantly did she ride ! A storm came on — it was sad to see How she roll'd a wreck on the fathomless sea. Her mariners left her, one by one, In that season of peril, almost alone ; But a few there were who endured the blast, And succour'd her in her distress to the last. She righted again, and she braved the tide, And oh, how gallantly did she ride ! It was strange to see, when she stemm'd the main, How her mariners all came back again ! While ocean winds her canvass swell, That ship of the terrible storm shall tell ; And her log-book the names of the crew shall bear Who abandoned her not in her hour of despair. The path of Mr. Mogridge's life was now for a time overshadowed. He was called to consider whether he should retrace his steps and set out afresh in the business of a manufacturer, or enter on other engagements which might give the promise of support, and which were more in harmony with his natural talent and tastes. ENTERS ON A LITERARY CAREER. 2B CHAPTEK II. ENTERS ON A LITERARY CAREER. It lias been said that fewer authors are made by choice than by necessity ; nor does the example of Mr. Mogridge militate against the general correctness of the observation. He was not altogether insen- sible to the fact that no enojasrements are more fraught with anxiety and disappointment, or are more liable to failure, than those of a professional writer for the press. Yet with this conviction on his mind, he resolved to engage in literature as a source of profit. It was a bold step for one who had hitherto only employed his pen, as a recreation, in such light compositions as might fill a column in a magazine. He seems, however, to have had some confidence in his own powers, though not a single friend at the time encouraged him in his purpose. Looking from our present point of view, we can see much to justify the resolve ; but at that time the qualities of his heart, and his peculiar mental power, had been but partially developed. The devout mind will not fail, in his case, to recognise in his decision the leadings of divine Providence; for whatever was the result on his comfort and pecuniary advantage, 24 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. it undoubtedly promoted tlie entertainment and im- provement of thousands of readers. In launching on the wide ocean of literature, our author was dependent on any favourable current he might meet, rather than on any fixed course. Without long waiting to weigh the probabilities of success, and under the influence of strong feelings, and relying more on tact than talent, he pushed forth on those deeps whereon so many have made shipwreck. There were some points in his favour. In early life Mr. Mogridge had imbibed an ardent and deep- rooted love for natural scenery. The grand and beautiful in creation can scarcely foil to arrest the eye of even incurious spectators; but there are minds of lively temperament which are powerfully aifected by the display of infinite goodness and power in the natural world. When Legh Rich- mond visited Loch Lomond, he gazed intently on the landscape, and hushed his restless companions with the sentence, ^' The eye is not satisfied with seeing." On the same spot. Dr. Chalmers ex- claimed, in rapture, ^^ I wonder if there will be a Loch Lomond in heaven!" Dr. Caesar Malan at the sight knelt down and prayed; and the mis- sionary Macdonald wrote of it in his diary, '' Oh I how sweet and tranquil was the bosom of the lake ! I thought of the peace of God that passeth all un- derstanding." With similar feelings of devotion ENTERS ON A LITERARY CAREER. 25 and wonder, Mr. Mogridge beheld such a goodly prospect. Overcome at the sight, he involuntarily fell on his knees with a fervour of feeling that was painful to him, and prayed that God in his goodness would either subdue his emotions, or give him the greater ability to sustain the enjoyment of them. In one of those impromptu pieces of rhyme of which so many are left behind him unpublished, he refers to the pleasures he found in natural objects: — A pleasant thing it is to stray Beneath a sunny sky, Where flowery fields their charms display, And brooks run bubbling by; To sit with leafy bowers o'erhung, And read in grateful mood, While heart, and mind, and eye, and tongue, Confess that God is good. The observation of character is a source of much interest to many; with Mr. Mogridge it was a culti- vated habit. In those around him he found some- thing to admire, or to disapprove, to imitate, or to avoid. He could scarcely fail to take an intelligent view of men and things as they passed before his eyes. " Every man," he once observed, ^' has a picture-gallery of his own, in which are hung the likenesses of those he has known. These likenesses are dependent on the point of view whence they were taken, and on the character of the mind in whose memory they are retained. A portrait de- pends almost as much on the painter as on the face 26 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. of him wliose likeness it represents ; and if it be thus with sketches taken by the pencil, it is still more so with sketches of the pen.'' This habit en- abled him to present those delineations of character in the Old Humphrey Papers which are evidently taken from life. His frequent perambulations and love of adventure brought him into contact with difierent interesting characters, whose peculiarities he was not slow to discern, though he was ever careful not to allow an ill-natured criticism to escape his pen. He was also fond of intercourse with those whose stores of wis- dom could enrich his mind, and whose reminiscences could supply topics for profitable conversation. ^' From the time of my early boyhood,'' he observed, " I have had the habit of keeping my eyes and ears open to the busy world about me; and for many years it has been my custom to keep a common- place book of passing thoughts and occurrences. Oh, what a strange medley of matter does it contain ! Sometimes my remarks have been made hastily, as sudden impulses have called them forth ; at other times, they have been written down with greater re- flection and care." A habit of frequently reviewing the past ma- terially aided in turning to practical account this faculty of observation. A tenacious memory, too, held as in a treasury the varied incidents of life as they had come under his eye, and supplied him with ENTERS ON A LITERARY CAREER. 27 abundant illustration to enforce a moral or adorn a tale. His imagination was active and speculative on scenes as they arose to his view. In one of his rhyming moods, he thus notices the workings of thl« latter faculty : — Yet deem I not the high-wrought bliss Of fancy's thrilling reign, — Her thousand ardent hopes and fears, — Romantic, light, or vain. Without these sparkling gems of thought. The human heart would be, At times, a desert far more drear Than thine, dread Araby. Many have mistaken the fervour of i^oetic feeling for poetic talent. It is not, then, a matter of sur- prise, that, after revelling in the natural and earnest thoughts of Wordsworth, or the glowing strains of Montgomery, or the rich imagery and quaint subli- mities of the early poets, that they should have been sufficiently carried away to believe that they could produce stanzas which would become, to some extent, also popular. The subject of our memoir had long felt the inspiration of poetry; it was, therefore, to be supposed that he would first direct his attention to this line of authorship. Accordingly, he submitted a few pieces, as specimens of an extended series, to the editor of the "Literary G-azette," who freely expressed his approbation, but required that he should have in his possession the whole of the papers before he published any, on the ground that 28 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. authors were too mucli in the habit of beginning with power and ending with weakness. Among his earliest works was a book of epitaphs, published under the title of ''The Churchyard Lyrist," It is hoped it answered the purpose of the publisher better than it did that of the author. The price agreed on for the copyright was fifty pounds, but as it was to be received in copies, and as Mr. Mogridge gave three-fourths of the books away, his pocket was thereby but very little re- plenished. Like all other people, authors have to pay for their experience ; and he who sets any value on his time, and is solicitous to add to his pecuniary resources, had better occupy himself in a more promising subject than verses for tombstones. The design of this volume was to give a greater variety of original epitaphs than had hitherto appeared. It was the writer's opinion that "the churchyard is a volume whose admonitions are sought when the heart is best prepared to receive them/' and hence the importance that inscriptions for the grave, when they do not consist of texts from Scripture, should be in harmony with its doctrines and precepts. It is rather remarkable that an animated and lively mind should seek recreation among old yew- trees, green hillocks, and sculptured urns. Yet these had their attractions to Mr. Mogridge, and to his frequent musings among such mournful objects are we indebted for his first useful book. "I litie ENTERS ON A LITERARY CAREER. 29 not," lie has been known to say, "to see a trodden- down grave, believing, as I do, that burial-grounds have, or ought to have, an influence on the tone and morals of society. A churchyard is a volume where the wisest of us may learn a lesson of profit- able instruction ; and a mind duly impressed by re- flection on the dead will rarely indulge in bitter- ness towards the living. Pleasant is it to look on the memorials of affection that decorate the graves of the people of Wales. I want no aff"ectation of sorrow, no unnecessary exhibition of grief, to mark the last resting-place of humanity; but I do love to see the grass-green sod look as though the mortals mouldering below were not forgotten." A few specimens from this work may not be without interest : — ON A YOUNG FEMALE. She is gone to the land where the care-worn and weary Enjoy the sweet rapture of sacred repose ; She has quitted forever this wilderness dreary, And bid a long farewell to time and its woes. While on earth she was loved, and we deeply deplore her: But ah ! shall a murmur escape from our breast ■? Do you ask how she lived? She set heaven before her. Do you ask how she died? In the faith of the bless'd. 3« 30 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. ON A PIOUS SAILOR. Doom'd o'er the watery waste to roam, Full oft he braved the tempest's strife, Till his Redeemer call'd him home, And he was shipwreck'd into life. ON" A HUMBLE-MINDED CHRISTIAN. A lowly follower of the Lord above : While here on earth, his soul on heaven was bent ; His words were kindness, and his deeds were love, His spirit humble, and his life well spent : These, then, and not this stone, shall be his monu- ment. THE GRAVE S APPEAL. Art thou young, and wouldst thou live In peace that God alone can give, Conquering every worldly lust? Watch, and praj/, and seek, and trust Art thou old, and wouldst thou die A servant of the Lord on high ? Wouldst thou reign among the just? Watch, and pray, and seek, and trust. Old and young, and rich and poor, Sinner, Death is at the door. All are hastening to the dust ; Watch, and pray, and seek, and trust. ENTERS ON A LITERARY CAREER. 31 THE WARNING VOICE. In every stage of life is given A warning voice : it comes from heaven. In childhood's hour it breathes around — • ^^The fairest fioicers are faded found." In youth it whispers as a friend — *'■ Reflect upon thy latter end.'' In manhood louder swells the cry — ^'Remember thou art horn to die." In age it thunders on the blast — *' Oh man ! thy earthly years are past." In joy and grief, in ease and care, In every stage, " Prepare, prepare I" ON A CHRISTIAN. Well may we weep, proud minions of an hour, 'Mid mouldering marble and decaying rhymes, That earthly grandeur has so little power To hand her greatness down to future times. Though gorgeous pyramids in ruin lie, The Christian's hope, uninjured, still remains ; His faith is firm : his record is on high : His monument the heaven of heavens contains. From the time when Milton hawked his immor- tal poem, " Paradise Lost/' among the booksellers, for five pounds, to the present day, many a young author has struggled hard to secure an introduction to the public. It may, therefore, be supposed that 32 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. Mr. Mogridge, unknown to fame and without pa- tronage, had to encounter not a few difficulties and disappointments. One manuscript offered by him to a bookseller was detained nearly three months before it was declined. With another he was equally unsuccessful ; for, after he had walked a distance of fifty miles (ten miles five times over) to inquire of its success, he found that the paper had not been opened. In a third instance, a bookseller returned to him, in an unsealed packet, by an apprentice lad, his manuscript and letter, with the verbal message, " Declined. '' In a fourth, a publisher, to whom he had offered a small manu- script for ten pounds, placed it flat on his counter, and measuring it with his hand, said, with a conse- quential air, that he had bought manuscripts double the height for five. A new periodical about this time appeared under the name of " The Cornet,^' and Mr. Mogridge sent a contribution. Soon after, he was surprised to see placarded on the walls an announcement in which this contribution figured as the most attractive part of the advertisement. Flattered by his apparent success, he wrote another piece, well calculated, in the writer's opinion, to add lustre to the bright and eccentric stranger, " The Comet." With some im- patience he waited till the day when the second number of the work was to appear, when he found that the office of the magazine was shut up, and ENTERS ON A LITERARY CAREER. 33 his sparkling contribution was never made visible to the public eye. These misadventures gave a serious turn to his thoughts, and brought him into association with enterprises of a more decidedly religious character than he at first contemplated. He felt the necessity of applying in quarters where greater reliance could be plciced, and he was devoutly grateful to find that he was being led to services which were in accord- ance with the best wishes of his heart. The first engagement of Mr, Mogridge as a tract writer was with a respectable bookseller, Mr. Houl- ston, who undertook to issue a limited number of pieces, which were to be ready for publication at stated intervals. His feelings on entering on this service are expressed in a memorandum made at the time in a small account-book : — " Mistrusting my own perseverance, yet, with a humble and confiding dependence on that Almighty Being who gave me the faculties I possess, and who can alone enable me rightly to use them, I enter on my. literary under- taking, imploring the Giver of all good things that, while I thereby add to my own interest, and the comfort of those dear to me, I may contribute to the benefit of others, and extend the glory of my God. I purpose forwarding for publication one tract per week; and that I may do so, intend to enter in this book the date on which each piece is forwarded.'' 34 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. The qualifications of Mr. Mogridge as a writer of popular tracts in verse had been already tested in one of the first-fruits of his pen — " Thomas Brown; or, a Dialogue on Sunday Morning.'"^ The origin and history of this widely-spread and influential little production will be best related by its author. "It must be now (1849) about thirty-three years ago since a respected relative of mine was engaged, during the leisure of an active life, in a series of literary undertakings, all intended to arrest the progress of vice and promote the cause of virtue. One of these was to set aside, as far as possible, the immoral songs that were vended in an adjoining manufacturing town; and in this project I joined. To buy up the faulty publica- tions, and to write and print others of a less objec- tionable kind, was the adopted course, but it did not succeed. When the printer found that his cus- tomers would have the faulty songs, he failed not to supply them. It was his apparent interest to do so ; but it is never a man's real interest to do evil. 'If Balak,' said the prophet Balaam, 'would give me his house full of silver and gold, I cannot go beyond the commandment of the Lord :' Numb. xxiv. 13. * For thirty years past in the Catalogue of the Amerieiui Sunday-school Union. ENTERS ON A LITERARY CAREER. 35 ^^Now and then, even at this remote period of time, I find among my papers some of tlie poetical products of my pen, in furtherance of the laudable end we had in view; but perhaps the less I say about their poetical merit the better. They cer- tainly were not ' inscribed with immortality/ " It was at the time of these literary undertak- ings that my worthy relative handed me a rough sketch, in a kind of poetical prose, of a dialogue which he thought might be made useful to the working people on the farm attached to the mansion where he resided. From this rough sketch I wrote the tract, ' Thomas Brown,' with the simple object in view already stated ; and though since then My brow by time bas graven been, And gray hairs on my head are seen, it seems but as yesterday when the report was made to me of the effect produced by my poor doggerel verses on the rustic throng for whose benefit they were composed. The sing-song stanzas, and the plain tale they told, were just suited to the taste and comprehension of the simple-minded country people, who were caught at once while listening to the artless history of the sabbath-breaker. No sooner were the words read, 'Where have you been wandering about, Thomas Brown, In your jacket so out of repair V 'A ramble I've been o'er the meadows so green. And I work in the jacket I wear,' — 36 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. than a general expression of interest and pleasure lighted up their faces. Never was a more attentive auditory. With breathless attention they drank in, with greedy ears, the words of the reader, until Thomas Brown was represented as attending the village church. The description that followed won every heart. "Again and again, on different evenings, was ^Thomas Brown' read to the rustic throng, who listened with undiminished interest. One of them, I think it was Betty, the housemaid, committed the whole piece to memory; and a farm-servant declared that ^the man must have a rare yeadpiece (head- piece) that writ ^Thomas Brown.'' "Soon after this the dialogue appeared in print in different editions. A young friend, a printer, applied for and obtained permission to publish it. The late Dr. Booker, if I am not misinforn^, had an edition printed for his own circulation. "When 'Thomas Brown' was first printed, I felt heartily ashamed; having persuaded myself that I had some aptitude for poetry, the homely composi- tion of the dialogue humbled me. So long as it re- mained written only, and was regarded as an off- hand production addressed to a few country-people, it did not offend me; but when it came forth publicly, I shrank from the humiliation of being considered its author. Many a time in company, with a blushing face, have I smarted under the ENTERS ON A LITERARY CAREER. 37 galling lash of complimentary remarks addressed to me as the author of 'Thomas Brown/ " Among the admirers of this tract was a friend, who took a lively interest in spreading it as widely as he could; and many a packet of the dialogue ac- companied the merchandise he sent to different parts of the world. ' Thomas Brown ' made its ap- pearance in Van Diemen's Land at an early period of its history ; and I cannot but think that to the exertions of the friend alluded to, both at home and abroad, much of the popularity of the tract may fairly be ascribed. " ' Thomas Brown' used to be familiarly chanted in the streets of London. Here and there, two persons gave life and variety to the recitation; while, in other instances, the whole weight of the piece was sustained by a single individual. One man was so constantly engaged in reciting the tract, that he seemed to have no other occupation. A re- spected friend of mine used often to joke me on this circumstance. ' I have met with your friend, Thomas Brown,' he would say, 'and I really think that you ought to allow him a pension for his good services.^ ''The tract on which I have said so much has afforded pleasure to thousands; what amount of profit it has imparted is only known to Him who knoweth all things. It may be self-love that whispers in my ear the soothing conviction that 88 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. some of my readers will value it none the less when they know that it fell from the pen of Old Hum- phrey. Such as it is, it will be influencing the thoughts, the words, and the deeds of many, when its author is no more. How truly may it be said that from a small seed a great harvest of good or evil may arise ! Well may we be cautious of what we write or speak. Evil words may be as thorns in many sides, while words 'fitly spoken are as apples of gold in pictures (or baskets) of silver.' While round us hours and years unceasing roll, A word may warp, or warn, or win, a soul." The want of success by Mr. Mogridge in obtain- ing an acceptance of his prose compositions among the booksellers, induced him to employ his pen again in the kind of metrical tracts which had already proved so adapted to the popular taste. In a short period, three papers were written and sent to the Religious Tract Society, under the signature of X. Y. Z. A communication soon informed him that two of them had been approved and accepted by the Committee; that if he preferred to retain his anonymous position, a suitable compensation should be forwarded to him, but suggested, as more desirable, a call at the Society's rooms. There was a kindliness of expression and friendliness of spirit in the letter which favourably impressed him, so that, though he had resolved to remain unknown, ENTERS ON A LITERARY CAREER. 39 lie altered his resolution, and availed himself of the invitation. An interview took place in the Society's rooms between Mr. Mogridge, Mr. Lloyd, the editorial superintendent, and Mr. Jones, the secretary. On the entrance of the former, his eye glanced around as if under the influence of momentary trepidation ; but on being requested to be seated, he recovered his usually quiet self-possession, and entered into conversation with that bland and agreeable air which was so characteristic of his manner. He was informed that his tracts had received the cordial approval of the Committee, and that they warranted the hope that he would become a regular contribu- tor to the. Society's publications. With much modesty, he expressed his doubts how far he should be able to meet the expectations they so favourably entertained; that his habit was to write on any object that casually met his eye, whether a tree, a flower, or a landscape, and he feared that the buoyancy and flow of his thoughts were unsuited to the force and sobriety required in religious tracts. But after a free and friendly conversation, he said he was encouraged by their kind commendation, and would supply them with other manuscripts, trusting they would prove equally acceptable with those already adopted. If this interview made an agreeable impression on the officers of the Institution, it did not less 40 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. favourably affect the mind of Mr. Mogridge. In a memorandum he has left behind him, he thus notices the circumstance and its results. " I called at the Religious Tract Society, and had a pleasant interview with Mr. Lloyd, little imagining that my connection with him, and that Institution in whose transactions he performed so important a part, would continue so long as it has done. It is well to look back to the ways in which we have been led, and gratefully to acknowledge the Almighty hand which has sustained our steps. Of my frequent meetings and communications with Mr. Lloyd I cannot speak too freely nor too thankfully. It was really a holiday to have an appointment with him. While walking out together, his love of nature and kindly feeling for the young and old were fully manifested; and when seated together within doors at our manifold manuscripts, there was in him a sunny cheerfulness that relieved the ennui of literary labour, a liberality that called forth a desire to be liberal in return, and a tenderness and delicacy on shadowy points that much endeared him to me. I shall go to 'the place appointed for all living,^ and he will be 'gathered to his fathers,' yet will the record live, when the hand that is now making it is motionless, that I felt deeply his debtor. To him I submitted my plans, and, with the able assistance of his sound judgment and experience, carried out the various works proceeding from my pen which have ENTERS ON A LITERARY CAREER. 41 been published by tbe Society. He wbo has written a buudred books must have much to lament, or much for which to be grateful. If he have written ill, what cause has he for grief ! And if well, what thankfulness is due to his heavenly Father V A fair prospect of a literary engagement, in a con- nection that was consonant with his moral and reli- gious feelings, at once raised the hopes of Mr, Mo- gridge, and prompted him to write such works as were adapted to the objects of the Society. And as he felt he had a freedom and aptitude in expressing his thoughts in verse, in a flowing and striking style, he turned his attention to the preparation of tracts and small books in the metrical form. Among those issued at different times may be mentioned — Honest Jack, the Sailor. The Sabbath-Breaker Reclaimed ; or, Tho- mas Brown. The Two Widows. ^' Ten Thousand Bright Guineas oe Gold." The Infidel Blacksmith. Harriet Bell, the Cottage Maid. William Ball, the Cottage Youth. John Tomkins, the Dram-drinker.* ^' There is no Time to Spare." ^' Oh, if I WERE THE SqUIRE."* A Picture of Popery. * Published by the American-sunday School Union. 4* 4:2 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. The following little books for children were also written in verse, and sent forth from time to time : — Village Characters. Sarah Bell and Fanny Blake.* Something Wanted. The Holiday Exhibition. The Miller ; or, How Long will it Last ? The Sea. Alphabet of GtOOD and Bad Hearts. Tales in Rhyme for Boys. Tales in Rhyme for Girls. The plainness and originality of style of the fore- going tracts and books, with the author's easy mode of expressing important truth in simple rhymes, were well suited to the tastes and capacities of the labouring classes, whether old or young, among whom they soon obtained the stamp of popularity, which they have retained to the present day. They have been perused in the drawing-room with pleasure and profit, while they have conveyed instruction to the cottager, the mechanic, the sailor, the soldier, and the poor man's child. They are known wher- ever the English language is spoken. * Published by the American Sunday-school Union. ASSUMES THE NAME OF " OLD HUMPHREY." 43 CHAPTER III. ASSUMES THE NAME OE ''OLD HUMPHREY.'^ A NEW sphere for the exercise of the talent of Mr. Mogridge was presented when the Religious Tract Society commenced, in 1833, its periodical, the " Weekly Visitor." On being invited to become a contributor, and to suggest any special department of the work he might wish to engage in, it occurred to him that articles on a variety of familiar topics, treated in a popular manner, would suit his pen, and be acceptable to the public. After further re- flection, the signature " Old Humphrey" occurred to his mind as in keeping with the character and design of the proposed series of papers. Under a title so homely and peculiar, he thought he could the more readily find his way to the hearts of his readers. At first, he regarded it as a pure fiction, simply to be used as a medium of conveying his thoughts on whatever incidents of a useful and amusing kind might come under his" notice; but when his readers began to regard it as the signature of a real personage, he was constrained, in some measure, to identify himself with it, and to become more circumspect in his narrations. The new engagement was entered on with great 44 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. zeal and cordiality. '' The arrow," lie says, ^^ tliat strikes the mark efficiently, must have power to go beyond it ; and without some confidence in our own powers, we are not, in any undertaking, likely to succeed. I am sanguine enough to think I shall in- interest my readers in my observations and retrospec- tions. Barren and unlovely must be that rude and rugged land over which we could travel for fifty years without finding some object deserving regard, some fruit worth plucking, or some wild-flower worthy to be placed in our bosom. And blind must be the eye, and callous must be the heart, of him who, mingling as a man with his fellow pilgrims in this breathing world for more than half a century, has stored up nothing in his memory that would be interesting to describe. '^ The popularity of the " Old Humphrey" papers was evident from their first issue ; and they awakened not a little curiosity in their readers to know the name and locality of him who had adopted the ap- pellation. Is he an old man or a young man ? Is he single, married, or a widower? Does he write for pleasure or for pay ? Is he a resident in town or country ? . Can you obtain for " a constant reader" a copy of verses in his own handwriting ? or will he inscribe a few lines in a lady's album ? Will he favour " a well-wisher" with a copy of original verses for a charity bazaar ? Or will he write a hymn for an approaching Sunday-school anniver- ASSUMES THE NAME OF ^^OLD HUMPHREY." 45 sary ? Such were the kind of appeals made to the officers of the Society to gratify curiosity^ or to advance the interests of benevolence. During the official tour of the Society's secretary and superintendent, Mr. William Jones, on behalf of the Institution, several friends suspected that he was the identical '^ old gentleman" who so freely, yet kindly, pointed out many interesting facts con- nected with the visits he paid to many of the at- tached friends of the Society. As the secretary oc- casionally supplied Mr. Mogridge with topics and incidents which had passed under his notice in his journeys, the persons concerned, when these mat- ters appeared in print, were not only pleasantly sur- prised, but saw in them, as they thought, corrobora- tive proofs of the authorship of the papers. It need scarcely be said, that Old Humphrey was never re- quested to refer to any circumstance of a private nature, or which could possibly wound the feelings of any person. The interest in the ^^ unknown" was not lessened when a paper was announced, entitled, "Who is Old Humphrey?" In one of these communications to " Old Hum- phrey," he was told that many friends were anxious that he should give a description of himself in on 'J of his articles. He readily complied. After some particulars of a negative kind, which playfully in- crease the curiosity of the inquirer without satisfy- 46 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. ing it, showing tliat he was not absorbed in bis own importance, nor of an imperious and churlish tem- per, nor of a slandering tongue, nor without sympa- thy for the afflicted, nor of an epicurean taste, he proceeds : "If you see an elderly-looking man parting two passionate lads who are fighting; giving twopence to a poor girl who has by accident broken her jug, to make all right again; picking up a fallen child out of the dirt ; guiding a blind man carefully across the street ; or hesitating for a mo- ment whether an importunate beggar is an impostor or not, and then deciding in his favour : if you see such a one, so occupied, he is not unlikely to be Old Humphrey. ^' If, in the house of God, either in a retired pew, or standing up among the poor people in the middle aisle, you see a stranger, a man of years, regarding the minister as a friend, listening to the words of eternal life with thankfulness, and gazing with a fixed eye on the preacher, while he describes the sufferings of the Saviour of sinners, many things in this world are more improbable than that he should be Old Humphrey. " If you ever observe a thoughtful person, some- what stricken in years, after talking with and put- ting something into the hands of a weary and meanly-dressed traveller, turning out of the turn- pike-road, and leaning over a gate to admire the glory of the setting sun ; or gazing on the tall ehn- ASSUMES THE NAME OF ^^OLD HUMPHREY." 47 trees with an expression of admiration ; or follow- ing with his eyes the green-bodied dragon-fly, as it lightly skims over the surface of the rippling brook ; or sitting by the side of a ditch, poring with in- terest over a foxglove, a thistle, a daisy, a sere leaf, a lady-bird, ^ toad, frog, newt, nettle-top, or dande- lion/ if, ever and anon, he looks up, amidst his speculations, to the clear bright sky, with an ex- pression of reverence and thankfulness, you have very good grounds for supposing him to be Old Humphrey. '^ If, in any village churchyard, not more than twelve miles from London, you observe an old gentleman poring over a time-worn gravestone, stocking up the grass with the end of his walking- stick, to get at the date; if he muses over some lowly green hillock in the unfrequented part of the burial-ground longer than at the beautiful sarco- phagus or the costly mausoleum with the hatch- ment sculptured on its side, keep your eyes on him ; he is not half so likely to be the lord mayor of Lon- don, as he is to be Old Humphrey. ^^If you meet an ancient man, with a kind- hearted countenance, who, as he passes a throng of playful boys, softly speaks, ' Bless you all, my little merry hearts ; may you be as free from sin as you are from sorrow !' or ejaculates, as a pale-faced wo- man, habited in black, with a crape bonnet on her head, moves on with a dejected air, 'May thy Maker 48 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. be thy Husband, and thy mourning be turned into joy!' or who comforts a little orphan boy, patting him on the head, and speaking to him of a hea- venly Father, and quoting to him, ' When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up;' follow him up closely, for it is ten to one but he will turn out to be Old Humphrey." The pieces to which this popular name was af- fixed appeared regularly in a fugitive form, and were subsequently collected into volumes. Of these, his '' Observations," "Addresses," "Thoughts for the Thoughtful," "Walks in London," "Country Strolls," "Pithy Papers," "Half Hours," and " Friendly Appeals," have been perused by de- lighted thousands, in almost every part of the world. In addition to these, ten smaller books, for children, are part of the "Old Humphrey" volumes. In forming an estimate of the papers that ap- peared with this signature, it is necessary to con- sider for whom, and for what purpose, they were written. It was to win the attention of the greatest number to subjects of the highest interest. Their apparent egotism and garrulity were in keeping with the character assumed. Without being profound, there was in them considerable knowledge of hu- man life and of the workings of the human heart. With singular tact, their author drew solid instruc- tion from the commonest incidents of every-day life. His shrewdness of observation and sound practical ASSUMES THE NAME OF "OLD HUMPHREY," 49 wisdom gave point to the sentiments. A natural geniality of disposition imparted a fresli and ge- nerous tone to the thoughts : — "A man he seem'd of cheerful yesterdays I And confident to-morrows." Ardent in feeling, grateful, and disinterested, with a keen sense of the humorous and ridiculous, lie brought into play the sprightliness of his fancy and his habitual buoyancy of spirit, chastened and tempered with a habit of grave remark. Under the surface of a lively style there ran a flow of deep solemnity. He ever took a sunny and hopeful view of things as they rose before him; yet, however gay, he was never volatile, nor lost sight of the re- sponsibilities of authorship, or his character as a Christian. He instructed without wearying, and by touches of good-humour prepared the way for the reproof of a fault, or exposure of a vice, in a spirit of love and gentleness. There were some topics on which, in this series of papers, he delighted to exercise his pen, such as the use and abuse of wealth, the benefits of earthly trials, charity for the poor, kindness to animals, the horrors of war and the blessings of peace. Christian temper in the lesser things of life : in these and kindred themes he agreeably mingled the useful and the practical with spiritual truths of the high- est importance to man. Old Humphrey was not merely in his feigned character, but in reality, a 50 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMrHREY. true lover of nature. The boundless beauty of creation feasted bis eyes and kindled almost ecstatic emotions in bis beart. A country laue, with chil- dren at play; a bedge-bank, witb its blossoms and butterflies; tbe rising or setting sun, casting its golden ligbt across tbe sky; or tbe rippling waves on tbe sea-sbore, filled bim witb deligbt, and often incited bim to tbrow bis thoughts and feelings into the shape in which they have been given to tbe world. To " rise from nature up to nature's God" was not an effort of the mind, but an instinct — an impulse. To bim there were — " tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones, and good in every thing." In tbe visits of Mr. Mogridge to various places, he occasionally found that tbe influence of " Old Humphrey" bad extended to quarters where be little expected to find it, and which he discovered in a way that encouraged and amused bim. At other times, it led to the formation of endeared friendships, which were maintained to tbe close of life. In tbe year 1847, during a visit to Edinburgh, be was enjoying a morning walk along the footpath leading to Arthur's Seat, when, as he turned aside to tbe left, to gaze on tbe ruins of St. Anthony's Chapel, be saw a lady and gentleman approach, ac- companied by one of the guide-boys. Both parties stood a while, beholding witb interest the venerable ASSUMES THE NAME OF ''OLD HUMPHREY." 51 remains, when Mr. Mogridge politely asked permis- sion to put a question to tlie young guide, and then passed on his way. Again they met on higher ground, where from a projecting rock are unfolded to the view the deep blue waters of the Firth of Forth, Salisbury Craig, and Calton Hill, with the whole town of Edinburgh lying at the feet. Words of mutual delight were exchanged at the scenery around them, when Mr. Mogridge exclaimed, with a burst of joy, " It is not any one part I admire, but the beautiful whole : this grand mountain and the. vast prospect spread around charm me. When I gaze on them, my mind is led upward to their great Creator." The conversation was continued ; it was mutually felt that fellow-pilgrims to the heavenly city had been brought into company. As they spoke of creation, they rose into a contemplation of redemption, and then onward to a state of glory. In parting, the solitary traveller struck his cane on the ground with one hand, with the other stretched upward, and, with a heart full of intense emotions, said, '' Oh! I sometimes long to put off this mortal body, that I may go to heaven, and see Him as he is, and worship before him." The lady and gentleman had observed notices of a meeting to be held in Edinburgh, and that a deputation from America would attend it. They at once suspected that the aged stranger was a trans- atlantic visitor; and, following him a few paces, 52 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. asked if tliey were right in their conjecture, to which he merely replied, ''No;" but after they had cordially shaken hands, he said, "You ask me if I am one of the deputation ; I do not preach, hut I am read by thousands : good-by." These words naturally increased a desire to know with whom they had been holding such friendly communica- tions. Again the gentleman met the stranger in the suburb of the city, strolling in search of the beauti- ful; after some agreeable conversation, it was found that he was none other than ''Old Humphrey." An intimacy ensued from this casual interchange of kindly and Christian sentiments, which led to an agreeable visit from Mr. Mogridge to the residence of the gentleman at Bath, and to a profitable cor- respondence, which lasted till death removed one of the parties to a better world. A worthy Christian family in a western suburb of London, to whom he had become known through his writings, also "showed him much kindness;" and to them his letters, characterized as they were by a cheerful, unaffected piety, were at all times welcome. One of his epistolary communications to a young lady of this household will not be unac- ceptable : — KiNGSLAND, May 1, 1845. "You have heard of that ancient and never-to-be- sufficiently-valued adage, 'Better late than never/ ASSUMES THE NAME OF " OLD HUMPHREY/' 53 and I am now, I trust, supplying you with an instance of its correctness. Late, indeed, is this fulfilment of my promise to send you my name in my own hand-writing. If my inattention has proved that I do not possess the virtue of punctu- ality, let my present communication prove, also, that I do possess the virtue of shame for my trans- gression. " What more can erring boy or man Achieve, with all his powers, Than ask forgiveness for the past, And mend in future hours ? ^'Were I to ask you the simple question, What have you thought of, spoken, and done, since we formed part of a family fold, with our kind-hearted and well-beloved shepherd at our head ? in the very precincts of a palace, you would not venture to tell uie. Well, then, I will forego questioning you as to your words and deeds, if you will only tell me all that you have thought of ! But no ; not you. Oh, what a budget of keepsakes and kid-gloves — of songs and sermons — of feathers and family affairs — of gayeties and gravities — of mourning weeds and wedding apparel — of faithful and faithless friends — of sadness and gladness — of light-hearted trifling and holy thoughts — of black and white, shine and shade, prose and poesy — of hopes and fears, broken intentions and resolute resolutions — in short, what a medley of small and great, vain and important, 5* 54 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. fading and eternal, has passed through your brain since we last met ! But has it been so with you only ? My heart feelingly pronounces an emphatic No. If, however, in all this chaos there be some order ; if, with all this shifting of the compass, the needle has tremblingly tried to point northerly — or rather to ^ the hills whence cometh our help '—let us be thankful. That verse — 'Come, poor sinners, heavy laden, Bruised and mangled by the fall, If ye tarry till ye are better. Ye will never come at all,' — is beautiful; but its beauty consists less in its poetry than in its truth. What a mercy that, as our worthiness cannot save us, so neither can our un- worthiness sink us to perdition ! What a mercy it is, that in all our wanderings of heart, the door and the luay yet remain open ! ^^I know not how it has been that I have thus insensibly glided into serious remarks, for I thought that I began in a light-hearted way. Well, and I feel light-hearted now; not a whit the less so be- cause 1 have mingled my commonplace thoughts with a reference to more important things," Among others to whom he became known in his character of Old Humphrey, was the late James Montgomery. His introductory letter to the poet was forwarded by the hand of a mutual friend : — ASSUMES THE NAME OF " OLD HUMPHREY." 55 "My dear Sir: — For a less familiar commence- ment would but ill agree with the warmth of my affectionate respect and admiration, — Some time ago, Miss , of C Park, informed me that you had said of me, in a communication to her, ' I know little of him, but his tales ; may he live long, and never leave off telling them/ For this friendly remark let me very heartily thank you. " It is almost thirty years since, being in Sheffield, I purchased a few volumes of poetry, (your's and Cowper's,) in furtherance of the hope of being en- abled to take you by the hand. This privilege I enjoyed; and since then, though familiar with your ,mind and your muse, I have not personally seen you. ^'If the amount of satisfaction derived by a reader from an author be the measure of his obliga- tion, then am I indeed your debtor; for few have been more interested, excited, and influenced, than myself, by your manifold, talented, and Christian- hearted productions. I am sure that they have made me wiser, I believe they have made me better, than I should have been without them. '' At my time of life, it is more befitting that I should put up a prayer for you, than praise you. Indeed, if praise were acceptable, you must, I should think, have received it almost to satiety. " I too with words of praise could ring the ohimeSj And blot a foolscap page with tinkling rhymes, If this poor pen of mine could thus impart The honest homage of a grateful heart; 56 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. Grateful to tliee, my worldly joys among, For many a revel in transporting song, To see thee now in reverent age appear A Christian warrior resting on thy spear. That thou hast wielded well, in bloodless fight, For God and man, with majesty and might. Deign then, dear bard, in friendly mood to share My kindly thoughts, my blessing, and my prayer. No tyro I, in trouble's stormy strife ; No stripling in the battle-field of life : Like thee, far-travelled on my pilgrim way, I need repose. Like thine, my hairs are gray. Accept — alas ! in this poor world below How little can the warmest heart bestow ! — Accept this truth, deep, ardent, and sincere, In youth I loved thee, and in age revere." During the visits of Old Humplirey to Hastings, to recruit his health, he was accustomed to pay a morning visit to a hairdresser, not far from All- Saints church, to complete his morning toilet ] but during his last illness, when unable to walk to the shop, he was waited upon by the hairdresser. Dur- ing the usual operation, the worthy man would en- tertain his customer by recounting the news of the day, and other matters which he thought of im- portance to be known. ^^ I have lately been read- ing," said he, on one occasion, "a very interesting book. I can't read prosy works, but this one was quite to my taste; it is an excellent one. It is called ' Old Humphrey's Addresses.' " He then went on to expatiate on the merits of ^' The Top- pers," and other well-known pieces in the volume; ASSUMES THE NAME OF ^^OLD HUMPHREY/' 57 concluding by expressing his regret that his little daughter^ who had borrowed it from her school library, was obliged to return it before he had com- pleted its perusal. Mr. Mogridge quietly enjoyed his friend's recital. It was just the kind of incident to bring out the natural amiability of his heart. A copy of the work was obtained in the town, and at the next interview Mr. Mogridge placed it in his hands, having previously recorded, in his own trembling penmanship, that it was " a gift from the author to Mr. ." The disconcerted and^ de- lighted hairdresser, on receiving the neat-looking volume, could scarcely believe that he had been un- wittingly extolling the book to its author's face — his own customer, too ! — and that the author's own hands had presented to him the valued work, to be kept as a memorial of a pious interest in his welfare. Equally pleasing proofs of the usefulness and popularity of his little books, also at various times came under his notice. Once, when passing through a crowded London street, Mr. Mogridge saw a man elevated on a chair, about to address a throng- around him. Curiosity led him, during a pause in the proceedings, to make his way almost up to the chair on which the orator stood, when, to his sur- prise and confusion, the man suddenly broke out, in a loud voice, looking at the startled author — 58 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. "Where have you been wandering about, Thomas Brown, In your jacket so out of repair?" Old Humphrey would have gladly escaped^ to re- cover his self-possession and gravity, but he found himself encompassed by the people, who seemed to him looking directly in his face. " I felt/' he said, ''almost as much ashamed as if I had been detected in inadvertently passing a bad shilling. '^ Among the tracts in verse, the one entitled " Ten Thousand Bright Guineas of Gold" has been foi^nd very acceptable. A gentleman laid a copy of it on his study table. An old friend called on him, who was rich in this world, but a stranger to the " unsearchable riches of Christ." Finding that the title attracted the interest of his moneyed friend, he proposed to read it to him ; this was done, and produced a visible impression on the rich man. He left the house, but could not forget the words he had heard. He became anxious about his soul ; at- tended the means of grace, searched the Scriptures, and prayed for heavenly guidance ; and there is good reason to conclude that he was led savingly to the knowledge of the divine Redeemer. Mr. Mogridge was very happy and effective in writing little children's books — published at a half- penny or a farthing each. Some of them are equal to any thing that came from his pen, and were not without evidence of the divine blessing resting upon them. A copy of one of them, entitled, " The ASSUMES THE NAME OF "OLD HUMPHREY." 59 Cloud; or, Look beyond It/'* came into tlie hands of a worthy clergyman in Yorkshire, on Christmas day. He was at the time in a depressed state of mind, fearing that the labours of years had been in vain. He took up this small book, and was pleased with the recommendation contained in its title — "Look beyond the cloud." He read it, and its simple and pleasing advice cheered his mind, pre- pared him for the happy discharge of the duties of the day, and produced much subsequent comfort. A gentleman in London experienced a great dis- appointment, the effect of which was to throw him into such desponding views as to threaten the most fearful consequences. A friend enclosed in an en- velope the same book, " The Cloud," but without knowing the state of the gentleman's mind, and re- quested him to giVe it to his little boy. On going home, he opened the envelope to see the book it contained. He read it, and experienced such relief in his distress of mind, that he wrote a letter to the gentleman who sent it, expressing his thankfulness for the benefit which he had received. As the versatile pen of Old Humphrey necessi- tated that he should assume different characters, he wrote various volumes and children's books, for the Religious Tract Society, under other names. Hence he appeared as " Grrandfather Gregory,"* "Amos * Published by the American Sunday-school Union. 60 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY Armfield/'* ^' Uncle Adam/^ ^'Old Antlionj/' '< Godfrey Gilbert/' "The Traveller/' "The En- courager/' and other aliases, too numerous to par- ticularize. When more suited to his purpose, he changed the masculine gender into the feminine^ and appeared as "Grandmamma Gilbert/' and "Aunt Upton." Several other books were prepared for the Societj^, of an entertaining and instructive kind: as, "The Boy's Week-day Book/' "Wanderings in the Isle of Wight/' " Loiterings among the Lakes/' "Calls of Usefulness/'* "The North American Indians/' "The Old Sea Captain/' "Footprints of Popery/' "The Country/' "Play House/' and a few more of a similar character. Nor must " Learning to Think/"^ ''Learning to Feel/'* "Learning to Act/'* and "Learning to Converse/' be omitted, as works alike useful and pleasing in their contents. The whole number of tracts and books added by Mr. Mogridge to the Society's catalogue amounts to one hundred and forty-six. A noble contribu- tion to the cause of truth and piety from one pen ! While engaged in promoting the objects of the Society, application was made by several respectable publishers to " Old Humphrey," for literary assist- ance, which he rendered without breaking his con- *■ Published by the American Sunday-school Union, as are also several others not here mentioned. ASSUMES THE NAME OF "OLD HUMPHREY.'^ 61 nection with a Society that had become endeared to his heart. It was to him a great relief, and a source of much gratification, to be employed at the same time on works of different kinds, grave and gay, limited and of greater length, prose and poetry, — ver- satility in composition being one of his qualifications. "Truly," he observed towards the close of life, "mine has been a prolific pen; and though too often, and too legibly, haste, immaturity of thought, and other errors, have marked my productions, yet it is a source of consolation and thankfulness, in the prospect of leaving behind me the many works I have written, to know that I have so little cause for serious regret. Though not unmixed with meaner motives, glory to God and good-will to mankind have ever been my prevailing object and desire. My connection with the Religious Tract Society has been to me an important one in many respects, for it has supplied me with occupation, ministered to my comforts, withheld me from light and trifling pursuits, and constrained me to the consideration of eternal things. The committee of the Institution have ever treated me with respect and liberality, and its various officers with undeviating attention. '^ A few instances of the usefulness of his writings have been given : how many immortal souls have been warned, instructed, encouraged, and established in the faith, by the perusal of the tens of thousands of copies of his fugitive pieces, or little volumes, 62 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. which have been scattered through the world, can never be known till that day when every man's work shall be tried, and seen in all its results, whe- ther for good or evil. If we know of a single case in which, by such means, a sinner has been turned from the error of his way, or a fainting believer has been strengthened in his course, we may cherish the hope that there are many more which have never been brought to light. Only the first-fruits are gathered now; the full harvest is reserved to the end of the world. '^A good book,'' says Milton, ^' is the precious life-blood of a master-spirit, embalmed and trea- sured up on purpose to a life beyond life.,'' It may teach for ages : succeeding generations of a family may gather from it knowledge and find in it recrea- tion. One of Luther's tracts, printed at Wittem- berg in 1545, was found a few years since in a German household in the back settlements of Ame- rica. It had been teaching for more than three hundred years. Who can estimate the effects of those few pages ? And it may yet do good for ages to come. Without overestimating the value of Old Humphrey's volumes and tracts, or assigning to them a vitality they do not possess, may it not be anticipated that they will comfort in decKning age those who are now young, and that their children's children may read them with pleasure and profit ? In the view of facts and probabilities like these, ASSUMES THE NAME OF ^^OLD HUMPHREY.'^ Qi how great are the responsibilities of authorship ! The poet Cowper, in writing to his friend, the Rev. John Newton, weightily remarks : ''An author by profession had need narrowly to watch his pen, lest a line should escape from it which, by possibility, may do mischief when he has been long dead and buried. What we have done, when we have written a book, will never be known till the day of judg- ment ; then the account will be liquidated, and all the good it has occasioned, and all the evil, will witness either for or against us.'' Scarcely less responsibility is laid on the readers. To them, books may become fountains of knowledge and sources of pleasure, or they may poison their principles and corrupt their moral and intellectual powers. How needful, then, is it to exercise care in the choice of the volumes they read, and to get from the good the instruction they were designed to im- part ! It is believed that the writings of Mr. Mogridge, whatever may be their literary merit, are free from all that would injure the mind, or debase the affections. They may, at least, serve as a re- laxation from more solid reading ; while they refresh the spirit and agreeably fill up a few hours of leisure. Young persons, especially, may by them be induced to turn from a class of authors whose works, however captivating in style, only serve to pervert the judgment and counteract religious impressions. 64 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. CHAPTER IV. OLD HUMPHREY AS A TOURIST. Among the peculiarities which had no small in- fluence in forming the character of Mr. Mogridge, and qualifying him for his literary work, was his love of travel. Seven years of his early youth were spent in a beautiful country district as a school-boy. Here he imbibed an ardent and deep-rooted attach- ment to natural scenery. As he advanced in life, he sometimes visited the old city of Coventry, lin- gered in Warwick Castle by day, and in hoary Kenilworth by moonlight; musing, poetizing, and sketching, as fancy or inclination prevailed. A tour in Wales was undertaken, and Tintern, Llan- tony, and other venerable abbeys, were visited. He had passed along the old Roman wall, and, with hazel stick in hand, had freely rambled through Cumberland and Westmoreland, roaming along the banks of every lake the two counties contained. The romantic hills and dales of Derbyshire, and the lovely landscapes of other counties, became familiar to his sight. It was to him a luxury to feel a liberty-loving mood, leading him to roam abroad amid secluded scenery, to climb the heights and plunge into the depths, to ramble unrestrainedly OLD HUMPHREY AS A TOURIST. 65 among objects of interest, to gaze on earth and sky, and to breathe freely the balmy breezes as they blew. For nearly thirty years he made all but an annual visit to Herefordshire, in which county some of his favourite haunts are found, as Lasket Lane, the Ford and the Ferry, Carey and Capler Woods, the Old Court House, and Fawley Court, These places were the scenes of some of his adventures, recorded by him in the Old Humphrey Papers. On one occasion he set off with a warm-hearted friend to the celebrated ruin of Stonehenge, in Wiltshire; from thence he made his way to Southampton, Portsmouth, Brighton, and other points of the southern coast. Localities connected with British history were to him especially attractive; hence, excursions were made to Hastings Castle, Bunny- mede, Torbay, Windsor, and other celebrated places. In reference to his solitary rambles, he tells us that he had a habit of musing among the shadowy nooks of quiet spots. Silence to him had a voice that cried aloud to the heart, and he gathered much where little met the eye — pearls of thought and costly gems of profitable reflection. "I never gazed upon the sky, But endless wonders met mine eye; Nor found on earth a place so bare • And destitute, but God was there." To his mind there were charms in the retired walks of a wide-spread park, in the lonely recesses 66 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. of a wood, or among the moss-covered ruins of a monastery. He has been seen bending over the dark, deep waters of a pool, or wandering along the banks of an expansive lake. The shades of a quiet valley, or the rugged steeps of a mountain, would at times be peculiarly attractive. He found a well- spread feast in the wild berries of a wood, and a delicious draught in the runnino; stream. Amidst such scenes and objects, in peace and quietness, he traced the wisdom, power, and goodness of G-od in creation, called to mind the manifold mercies of Providence, and meditated on the wonders of re- deeming love. In these rambles, too, he cherished kindly feelings towards all mankind, and speculated hopefully on the future. After well visiting some of the most interesting- sites in his own land, Mr. Mogridge started, with a companion, on a walking excursion through a part of France. At the head of a note-book, in which he purposed to record his adventures, he made the following entry: "In this, and in all undertakings, I would commit my ways unto thee, Grod, my Creator and Redeemer. Direct thou my paths, and be with me and my companion. ^^ The passage to Dieppe was boisterous; but the raging of the stoftn seems only to have aroused his enthusiasm for the grand and terrible. He thus addressed the wide sea: — "Vast and illimitable ocean! How does the amplitude of thy power, and the infinitude OLD HUMPHREY AS A TOURIST. 61 of tliy terror«, set forth the greatness of His might, and the terribleness of His majesty, whose whisper can hush thee to sleep and whose voice thou art swift to obey ! ^ Hitherto thou shalt come, but no further; and here shall thy proud waves be stayed.' Natural scenes, if not always lovely, are ever inte- resting, whether clothed with beauty or sublimity. Nature, I love thee ! and, " Whether I view thee in the lowly glen, Where vales recline, or where proud mountains rise ; What time the moon is gliding soft; or when The glorious sun, careering through the skies, Throws round creation his resplendent dyes; Or where wide ocean's endless wonders be; Still art thou beautiful to my rapt eyes : Thy mighty Maker in thy face I see, And sing His praises while I gaze on thee." Again, a few days after entering France, his journal furnishes us with an insight into his de- lighted feelings at the scenery which broke on his view: — ^'Soon after sunrise, I journeyed on to Forges, near to which a magnificent scene of great extent burst on my view. The sunlit sky and the beautiful scenery much excited me. It was a moment of intense enjoyment; a feeling of liberty, a pleasurable sense of novelty, and a strong emotion of thankfulness to the Giver of all good, came over me, and brought the tear-drops into my eyes. Something like this I have felt on the summit of 68 MEiMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. Skiddaw, and when wandering among the romantic scenery of Derbyshire. I speak not of a mere ad- miration of natural objects alone, but also of a deep, reverential conviction of His goodness who has so profusely adorned even the temporary dwelling- place of man. Seasons of this kind are precious; there is more of the bliss of existence, more of the free outpouring of the heart to the Almighty maker of heaven and earth, crowded into the brief space of such a moment, than is to be found in a year of e very-day emotions.^' The costume of the Normandy peasantry was much admired : their primitive modes of agricul- ture, and their domestic and personal habits, came under his keen observation ; while the abbeys, castles, and other ancient buildings, were objects of a lively curiosity. The public edifices and gardens of Paris and Ver- sailles afi"orded to Mr. Mogridge abundant sources of gratification. On leaving the French metropolis, he set out for a walk of one hundred and seventy miles, passing through St. Denis, Moisselles, Beaumont, Abbeville, Nouvion, Montreuil, Boulogne, and Calais. In this ramble he found much that was interesting and pleasurable. Being free from re- straint, he wandered as his fancy prompted him ; at one time ruminating within the walls of a fortified town, and at others musing among the chateaux and beautiful prospects of the country. After a leisurely OLD HUMPHREY AS A TOURIST, 69 excursion, lie returned home witli a stock of know- ledge that could be turned to practical account, and an increased affection for his native land, which he thus welcomed : — " Old England! I loved thee in childhood and youth, Thou homestead of honour, religion, and truth ; Thou land of the brave and the free : giving birth To the fairest, and boldest, and best of the earth. . Till reason, affection, and memory, depart, I will fling thee my blessing, dear home of my heart." Mr. Mogridge preferred to be a traveller of the pedestrian order, as affording more of personal ad- venture and better opportunity for admiring the works of God. "'Tis a pleasant thing," said he, "when you have health, and strength, and good spirits, to travel on foot. You can stop when you like, and turn round, and look at a prospect. You can call at a cottage, and talk to the old woman there as she goes on with her knitting, or loiter in the green lane, pulling down a brier and plucking the delicious blackberries. You can stand and breathe the fresh air as it comes over the blossomed bean-field, or gaze at the lambs at play in the. knolly pasture. You can creep into the copse and gather nuts from the hazel-trees, bunches of bright brown- shellers; or make a posy of the violets, the cow- slips, or the dancing daffodils. All these things you can do, and a hundred others ; and as you go on, and your bosom beats with happiness, you can 70 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. sing of the cliviae goodness and mercy witli a cheerful heart." To an ardent and undaunted mind there was united an agile body, which admirably fitted him for the long pedestrian tours he undertook. In his youthful days he was swift of foot, and few of his companions could outstrip him in a race. His school-fellows gave him the name of " Grrey hound" for his speed, and that of ''Squirrel" for his skill in climbing. When he was in advanced life, a friend related to him, somewhat vauntingly, that he had recently walked thirty miles in one day, while journeying through Kent; when Mr. Mogridge quietly observed: "■ I have been in my time a good walker, too. I travelled in Wales, on foot, forty- two miles in one day ; but then it should be remem- bered that I had walked forty miles the day previous, and forty miles the day before that — one hundred and twenty-two miles in three days. But then," continued he, ''I like to travel across the country, not troubling myself about the roads ; and when I come to stiles and ditches, I can readily vault over them." The same undaunted and inquisitive spirit led him to descend the deepest mines and climb the loftiest hills ; to witness operations in surgery, to visit workhouses, hospitals, and lunatic asylums; and to be a general spectator of public sights in all parts of the kingdom. The love of travel distinguished Mr. Mogridge to OLD HUMPHREY AS A TOURIST. 71 the last, although an injury to his ankle, in the latter years of his life, put a stop to his journeyings on foot. Previous, however, to this affliction, he visited the Isle of Wight, and wrote a work for the young, in his own graphic style, descriptive of this *^ garden of England,'^ with his wanderings through its length and breadth. This was followed by a tour to the Highlands of Scotland, and another visit to the lakes of Cumberland and Westmoreland. Of these excursions he has left the records in his pub- lished works. In these journeys he made acquaintance with numerous persons whose society he had sought, or into which he had been cast by the course of events. With some of these, the casual interview resulted in the endeared iuterc-ourse of friendship. Among those to whom he became known in his tours, was the poet-laureate, Wordsworth. When in the neigh- bourhood of Rydal Mount, he could not repress a desire to see the man whose writings had afforded him hours of enjoyment. Not with a feeling of idle and intrusive curiosity, but with a sense of deep respect and honour, he wrote rapidly a brief note, in which he enclosed his card, and forwarded it to Mr. Wordsworth: — "And I, too, (among the thousand and one strangers passing through this land of mountains and meres, who would enjoy the same privilege,) would fain see Wordsworth. My letters of intro- 72 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. duction are a graven bow, a sprinkling of the gray on my laeadj a respectful and affectionate admira- tion of tlie author of the ' Excursion/ and a pledge that I will not rob him of more than five minutes of his valuable time. " The Builder of the mountains, The Maker of the meres, Go with thee, gifted man, and spread The sunbeams round thy honour'd head, Through this low vale of tears." On reaching Rydal Mount, he heard the painful intelligence that Mr. Wordsworth had lost his only daughter a month previously. It appeared, for a moment, wrong to trespass on ,the grief of an afflicted parent, but the very loss increased the desire of Mr. Mogridge to see him. He accord- iagly delivered his note to a servant; and in a few moments the poet-laureate came forward and took the visitor by the hand in a most cordial manner. There was a welcome in his words and looks; and in a short time they were walking together round the beautiful grounds of the Mount, beholding the striking objects of the glowing scene. The simple and courteous demeanour of Mr. Wordsworth soon made the visitor feel quite at ease. They walked together through the retired walks and mossy alcoves of this lovely retreat, while grave and serious observations and more cheerful remarks alternately diversified their conversation. OLD HUMPHREY AS A TOURIST. When an allusion was made to the promised five minutes, the laureate refused to hear of it. Scarcely less than an hour had passed before Mr, Mogridge took his departure, impressed with the hosj)itable and benignant spirit of the gifted occupant of Rydal Mount. The frequent tours of Mr. Mogridge, together with his enterprising temper, often brought him into considerable peril. In trying to pass along the face of the Lickey Hills, in Herefordshire, where the earth had been taken away, the ground, believed by him to be firm, was fragile, and crumbled be- neath his feet. The height was great, and deep the gravel pit below; and his escape was little less to him than a miracle. At the ruins of Kenilworth, he imprudently attempted to pass from tower to tower along the high wall, when, coming to a broken part, he was compelled to turn back. The loftiness of the wall, the earth and stones giving way beneath his feet, and the action of turning round, affected his self-possession. He commenced his enterprise bravely, but completed it humbly by crawling back along the wall on his hands and knees, narrowly escaping with his life. When wandering in Wales among slippery rocks, he lost his footing, and slid from crag to crag, to the edge of a hole traditionally unfathomable. A rugged point of a rock, caught by him in his rapid descent, was the means of his preservation. When on a tour in Scotland, he was 74 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. benighted in a bog nearly twenty miles in extent. Three times a spot was selected on which to rest for the night, and three times he took courage and went forward. At length he extricated himself from his condition, and found a shelter till the morning. Had he taken a false step in some places he must have perished. "When ascending the shaft of a deep copper mine, one of the rounds of the ladder on which he stood gave way as he laid hold of it, and came out of its place loose in his right hand ; had he not suddenly grasped the ladder he would have been precipitated to the bottom. These and other instances of providential preservation were often recalled to mind, and awakened a burst of gratitude from his lips. When reviewing these repeated proofs of the divine protection, he would embody his emotions in a stanza : — The Lord of life, the Prince of peace, How wondrous are his Avays ! Oh for a harp of thousand strings To sound aloud his praise. DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL LIFE. 75 CHAPTER V. OLD HUMPHREY IN DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL LIFE. The cliaracter and personal dispositions of ^n author may be the reverse of those which appear in his writings. The moralist on paper is not of ne- cessity a moral man in practice, nor does the philo- sopher always exemplify his principles in daily con- duct. Genius may play about the head, while it is uninfluential on the heart. The author of the " Night Thoughts" was a volatile wit in private life, and the rugged-tempered Johnson wrote on the im- portance of good-humour and courtesy. It may, however, be declared, without undue praise, that the man and the Christian, as depicted in the writ- ings of Old Humphrey, were seen in reality in the life of the author. That a feigned character was so well sustained for more than twenty years may be explained by the fact that he therein represented and embodied — though unwittingly, yet with much truthfulness — his own feelings and habits. The sentiments he expressed were not alien to his heart. He did not act a part, except in assuming old age before it had quite cast its snows upon his head. In the relations of a husband, a father, and a 76 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. friend^ lie was the same gentle, generous, loving, »and loveable being as the one lie sought to portray in his sketches. The sunny temper and consistent conduct of Mr. Mogridge diffused an air of cheerfulness through the family circle; and to him his children looked, not only with the respect due to a parent, but with that confidence and freedom which belong to a com- panion and a guide. As they rose into life, he en- couraged them in a free epistolary intercourse, and in the exercise of their powers of composition. To one of his sons he acted the part of a literary cen- sor. The prose and verse of the young author were duly submitted to the father, who, assuming the name of '' Sir Christopher Caustic/' made the style and sentiments pass through a critical ordeal, after the manner of a modern reviewer ; then, changing his character into that of '' Sir Francis Fairplay," he took a more hopeful view of the pieces, pointing out any passages which "were worthy of commenda- tion. In this manner he became acquainted with his children's aspirations and modes of thought, which he could either encourage or correct, as ap- peared to him wise and best. The opposite conditions into which he was led in the path of life — now bright and then overclouded — tended to develop his moral character, and to exhibit him in the varied lights and shades of the Christian life. In early manhood, prospects of com- DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL LIFE. / / petence, and even wealth, were before Mm — not only on his own side, but on that of the second Mrs. Mogridge, whose father was at one time a man of considerable fortune ; but Mr. Mogridge did not live long ere he found that it is not the language of poetry only, but of experience also, that " God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform." Shadows overcast his path; riches took to them- selves wings and flew away; the hopes of life seenled to fade from his view; yet in the midst of his trials he was enabled, through the power of divine grace, to comfort himself with pious resigna- tion and confiding trust in God. He touchingly refers to the losses which he was called to endure, in his paper ^' On the Merciful Admonitions of Divine Providence.'^ ^^ Bound to the earthy as we are, by ten thousand ties, we ought to be especially mindful of those oc- casional admonitions of divine Providence which set forth the fading nature of all that is earthly — those merciful remindings that the time of our so- journing here is short, and that 'the fashion of this world passeth away.' Some require these remind- ings more frequently than others : I speak feelingly. It is long since my hat has been without crape round it, and my fears often tell me, that while I am permitted to remain here, a monument of God's forbearance and mercy, I shall often wear this sym- 78 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. bol of sorrow and affection. An old man's personal friends must of necessity get scarce -, it is so with mine ; and if I were of a desponding disposition, I might fear, from the inroads that death is making among them, that I should he left almost without any. Even this view, however, is not without com- fort; for if, through divine mercy, we ever enter heaven, (and we need not doubt, while we are in the right way,) why, the more friends we have to welcome us the better. ^' Again, then, I say, that among the first' and foremost of the favours bestowed by our great Re- deemer are the merciful remindings of their short tenure on earth; the notices given us to quit our present crazy habitations, a better being prepared for us above. " A look on ourselves, as sinners, brings a thunder- cloud over our heads; but a look at the Saviour puts a sunbeam in the sky. It converts the wrathful de- nunciation, 'Depart!' into the loving invitation, 'Come!' And death approaches, not to cut down the barren fig-tree, but to gather the shock of corn fully ripe into the garner of Grod," One of the heaviest trials of Mr. Mogridge was the sickness and death of an only and beloved daughter, under circumstances calculated, at the time, to cast a deep shadow on his spirit. After the most manifest proofs of talent and piety, with a ma- turity of Christian experience rarely possessed by DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL LIFE. one of lier years, lier mental powers became too vigorous for her physical nature. The mind was, for a season, darkened, so that she no longer, as she was wont to do, in her soul magnified the Lord, and in her spirit rejoiced in Grod her Saviour. In reference to this event, he wrote to the late Rev. R. Shepherd, of Chelsea: ^^My dear Friend : — I have for some time been walking in the shade. You well know that this fe' necessary to us all, and I will tell you the cause of my disquietude. Not only have I been very far from well, and still remain so, but a daughter, who for some time has been absent from me, and whose literary talents and true piety were sources of satis- faction and joy, has returned to me, the shadow of what she was. Her bodily affliction is great, but her mental malady of extreme despondency is a much greater trial ; we are heavily afflicted, but, dis- cerning the hand that holds out to us the bitter cup, we drink it without murmuring. Oh, the blessing of being able, strengthened from above, meekly and unrepiningly to receive the heaviest affliction it pleases our Heavenly Father to lay upon us ! For this blessing I cannot be too thankful. We have found it necessary to request our friends to act the friendly part of passing by our melancholy dwelling, for my poor afflicted child requires con- tinual attention. Add to these troubles the circum- stance that I have before me a letter from the phy- 80 MEMOIR OP OLD HUMPHREY. sician attending my dear aged motter^ to tell me that any attempt to reacli her sick bed before the departure of the spirit to another world, he thinks, would be unavailing • and you will then admit that I am walking in the shade. I would not willingly thus intrude upon you the recital of my sorrows, did I not think it necessary to do so by way of apology. " There ! now I know that you have forgiven me, and will not forget me at His footstool whose ' mercy endureth forever.' Believe me to be, my very excellent friend, your's in Christian affection." This mysterious visitation made his dwelling for some time desolate, and bowed down his spirit. At nightfall he has stood opposite an asylum for the mentally afflicted, with an agonizing heart, looking up at the flickering lights, and anticipating the possibility that his beloved daughter might one day become an inmate of some such home. Painful as were these seasons, he rather sought than avoided them. It was his fervent desire that, whatever should be the will of God, he might patiently and uncomplainingly submit to his righteous decrees. The anticipated grief he was spared, for it pleased the Father of mercies to take to himself the afflicted daughter, and to comfort his heart with the strong confidence that she was removed to the world of light and love. His own lines express the submis sion of his spirit at this time : — DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL LIFE. 81 True faith, inspired by God above, Who rules and reigns, whose name is Love, Will tranquillize the sufiering soul When waves of earthly trouble roil, And give the heart, with care oppress'd, Assurance of eternal rest. Previous to tlie daughter's affliction, the most con- fiding intercourse was encouraged by the tender- hearted father, more especially in reference to her immortal welfare. A letter from the parent, in answer to one written by his child, will exhibit the free and affectionate communications that were in- terchanged : — ''June 9, 1837. "My VERY DEAR Eliza : — If any circumstance were wanted to prove how little time I have at my disposal, my sending this short note in reply to your extraordinary letter would put the matter beyond doubt. Such a letter deserves a long and a weighty reply, for it is both long and weighty in itself. I read it, as your remark on its envelope directed me, when I was most at leisure. I read it with much care, with much feeling, with much affection, and with much thankfulness; and whatever your future thoughts, words, and deeds, may be, the very cir- cumstance of your having conceived and written such a letter will ever be to me a strong consolation. Your making my poor expression, ^ Much as I desire you to be intellectual, I would rather a thousand 82 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. times over that you should be pious than poetical/ — your making my poor expression the target at which, with such an unerring aim, you shoot your arrows, weighs not with me a feather. Spare me not, till I cry for quarter. I read your remarks with increas- ing emotion, and struggled manfully, (and I can struggle hard in such a case;) but when I came to that crowning crisis of your observations, '■ I will not compromise with the highest attainment under hea- ven, the brightest wreath of laurels that ever graced mortal brow, for so much as one of my Saviour's smiles,^ it brought me upon my knees, and wrung from me the prayer which is now written in pencil on the margin of your letter — ' May God, of his mercy and great compassion, knowing the unstable- ness of his creature's affections, strengthen this glorious resolution in thy soul.' I do, my Eliza, highly prize your letter — more highly than any thing and every thing you have yet written. I think it is one of the most talented as well as the most im- portant productions of your pen; it has a glowing and glorious energy, sanctified by the hallowed object and end it has in view. " But though I thus speak, and though I would not willingly wither the freshness nor weaken the energy of your Christian affections, I must try to guard you against undervaluing the sincerity of those who, professing the same belief as yourself, do not manifest the same ardour. Like you, in my DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL LIFE. 83 youtliful days, did I withdraw myself from every eye, save that of the Eternal, and many an aspiration has been j)oiired at his mercy-seat, as fervent and as sincere as your own. I have felt that all the world could oifer was dust too despicable for an heir of heaven 'to condescend to accept/ when compared with the 'white robe' and the 'glittering crown' reserved for the faithful followers of the Redeemer; but these aspirations, ardent and sincere as they were, could not always be sustained. Few and far between were those sunny seasons of the soul's re- joicing; and so will it be with you. These fresh, fervid feelings of your' s will pass away; nay, I doubt not, have already passed away; and though they will come again, again they will retire. Moses was forty days in the mount three times, but he was forty years in the wilderness. " The veteran warrior smiles at the ardour of the youthful volunteer : he admires his courage — his disinterestedness — his patriotism. 'Thus was it with me,' says he; 'but, in the midst of my ardour and my enterprise, I fell into the hidden ambush of the enemy, and since then, though I admire courage and ardour, I have been backward to blame such soldiers as appear less energetic than the volunteer.' " My dear girl, so long as we are what we are, the perishing bits and drops of this temporal being will, at times, take precedence of the bread of 8-1 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. heaven and things that are eternal ; hut this is n( ' proof that we do not helieve in eternal things; neither is it a proof, when a creature of infirm- ity and inconsistency speaks calmly of religion, that he does not in his heart and soul believe the Bible. ^' May religion "grow in your soul rather than in your professions. I would rather have you a retir- ing Christian, than hear your religious course ex- tolled by a thousand tongues. Let humility, and sincerity, and forbearance, and charity, go hand-in- hand together. It would afflict me to hear only that you were an extraordinary pious young woman, though it would comfort me to know that this was the case. I hardly know whether, from these poor remarks, you will make out the meaning of, my dear girl, '' Your affectionate friend and father.'* In social intercourse the wisdom and kindness of Old Humphrey were seen to much advantage. His gentlemanly and agreeable deportment, his delicate consideration for the feelings and sentiments of others, and his general intelligence, secured for him a welcome in every circle where he was known. When on a visit in town or country, he soon became a favourite with the young. They were readily won over to his side from the kindly notice he took of DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL LIFE. 85 them, and his solicitude to promote their pleasures and liappiness. Many a family fireside will long cherish the remembrance of the pious old gentleman, whose happy looks made all around him happy too; and on whose lips the children were wont to hang in rapt attention, as he extemporized a story to amuse and instruct them. It may be readily supposed that this characteristic sociality, as well as the influence created by his writings, would devolve on him a considerable amount of correspondence. The claims on his time for letter-writing, indeed, often sorely interfered with his ordinary engagements; but with much good-will he promptly met the numerous appeals of friendship and duty which arose in this way. His letters were written in the few intervals he could secure for the purpose, and often when wearied in body and mind from long sitting at his study table; yet are they pleasing expositions of the sentiments and feelings of the writer, and illustrate his agree- able method of laying hold of every occasion to do good. It would extend this brief memorial beyond the limits assigned to it, were there to be introduced any extended selection of letters to his friends. A few, written under different circumstances, will suffice to show the playfulness of his style and the occasional gravity of his remarks. 8 86 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. TO MISS . ''Kingsland, Dec. 30, 1845. '^ My dear Miss . I have just returned home, and find your kind note on my table. It is now half-past eleven of the clock — a period of time when, on ordinary occasions, ordinary men of pnident habits and upright intentions are recruiting their wearied bodies and minds with refreshing slumber. But as I am meditating, in a day or two, a rapid run into Herefordshire, and as my intervening moments are already mortgaged for more than they are worth, 1 must either hurry through a few lines now, or add to my sad delinquency. * * * ^^Yes, after a long delay, I wrote to you, and fearing to address you as you requested, lest you should have returned home, I wrote also to our good friend. Miss S , requesting her to hand my scribble to you ', but lo, and behold ! when I came to put your letter in her's, it was not to be found. From that time to this, the note I wrote to Miss S has been waiting to receive the lost note. Some fine summer's day, perhaps, in the year one thousand eight hundred and fifty-five, should I then be an inhabitant of the world, it may be found among my multifarious papers. * * * ^^ Now and then, but not often, I have heard your worthy and honoured pastor, to whom God, in his goodness, has vouchsafed powers of no ordinary DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL LIFE. 87 kind. He has sent me away pondering on lioly things^ neither ungrateful for the gracious message of mercy, nor for the advantage in hearing it elo- quently set forth. " I conclude that your invalided sister is better, and regret to hear you have a cousin on the couch of affliction. And yet why should I regret ? Is it not a light thing for the Great Physician to bid her take up her bed and walk ; or so to bless his pain- ful visitation as to turn her mourning into rejoicing ? She is in good hands ; only let her trust Him, and she shall come off more than conqueror. " Years ago, in the part of the country to which I am going, I knew two sisters; one was called away from the world, and then the other. At an adjoin- ing mansion, I knew also two other sisters of the same name as the former ; one of the latter is gone, the other is, I hear, going : yet here am I still ! Marvellous are the works and ways of the Holy One I " * * * To your sister remember me kindly, and also the invalided cousin. Tell her to look up- wards and onwards. " I am pleased that you have so keen an appetite for rural scenery and the world of vegetation. The trees ! the trees ! Admire them ! Revel in them ! But look beyond them. " Thanking you very heartily for your letter, with respectful remembrances to your parents, I remain, my dear young friend, your's very affectionately. '^ MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. TO THE SAME, ON HER BIRTHDAY. " August 2, 1851. " Often have I given you poesy on your natal day; let me now give you a word or two of prose. Whether presented in prose or poesy, the oflferinu- of the heart you will not despise. " Autumn, winter, spring, and summer, have passed ; the earth has again rolled round the sun ; I have journeyed through another year; and once more has the anniversary of your birthday arrived. ^^ Every passing year is a promoter of change, and never does the new birthday find us where the old birthday left us. Some are taken from, and some are added to, our circle of friends. We are either in better or worse health, and are stronger or weaker, than we were ; and even if no other change has occurred, we are sure to be a year older and a year nearer an eternal world. ^^How is it with you? Are you much as you were in the bygone year, or has the change been great ? Have you been adding to your mirth and your money-bags, or laying up treasures where moth and rust cannot consume them? To enjoy the present in this world with a thankful heart is a great good; to provide for the future in the world to come in a prayerful, peaceful. Saviour-loving spirit, is a yet greater advantage. How reasonable, how desirable, how necessary, and how imperatively important it is, that, in passing through things DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL LIFE. 89 temporal; we should not forget things spiritual and eternal ! ^'But I meant rather to throw a flower in your pathway than to read you a homily; .take, then, the warm-hearted wish, that your's may be the good things of this and a better world; that you may be blessed in your earthly possessions and your hea- venly hopes; and that every birthday may find you clad in the goodly garments of praise, with the Rose of Sharon blooming in your bosom." * TO MISS ROSE L . ''Brighton, June 9, 1853. ''I am here with my invalided partner, bathing in sunbeams and sea-breezes. You will soon be similarly circumstanced at Tenby. Health, peace, love, joy, and praise, be the companions of your party ! As to-morrow will be the anniversary of your birthday, willingly would I have sent you a few verses, but hardly can I get the time to write even this hasty note. Sunbeams and blessings rest upon you ! Had your honoured uncle, now in hea- ven, been with you, his gentle voice and affection- ate smile would have congratulated you. "Not yet has the kind-hearted group which at- tended me when I left hospitable S Hall passed from my memory. Heartily do I hope that Miss J will have cause to look back on this day with joy and thankfulness. 8« 90 MEMOIR OP OLD HUMPHREY. " I sliall mentally be among your gathered friends < to-morrow, and getting, among other pleasant things, ! a friendly shake of the hand/^ ] The letters arising out of the free intercourse of | friendship would fill many volumes. They have i not been sought for, but a few which have come to , hand may not be without an interest to the reader. TO THE LATE W. F. LLOYD, ESQ. ^ " Kinffsland, June 9, 1845. "Knowing your habits, and possessing the power ; of creating a vivid resemblance of many of my absent friends, and remembering somewhat of Gloucester- shire, I have had many a ramble with you, though | you have seen me not. Nor have I forgotten you j where we should remember all who have a claim on ' our respect and mingle with our affections. I fall ; back with peculiar pleasure on some of our High- ' bury Park meetings — on your decision — your con- centrated remarks — your power of setting to work the thoughts of another — your elasticity of spirit — ' your spirit-stirring laugh — and, not least, your j unusual talent of exposition, and sweet spirit in ; the hour of prayer. I cannot tell you the influence i the last has had over me. It used to affect me as I ' imagine the church prayers would, if, in addition to i their beautiful fulness and simplicity, they took in j the occurring circumstances of the day. I "I hope that dear little niece of your's rambles | DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL LIFE. 91 witli you occasionally; and I seem to love lier when I think she is paying you all the attention she can, getting good from you and doing good to you. May all who minister in aught to -your comfort or pleasure be abundantly ministered to in temporal and eternal things ! ^^ You did indeed surprise me by your relation of your rencontre with my sometime tutor. I owed him much; for when I was a boy he treated me with much attention and kindness. My schoolmaster had strong passions and little knowledge^ so that I should have profited very little had not my tutor acted a kindly part by me, and condescended — for ^t was then a condescension — to treat me as a com- panion more than as a pupil. I have tried again and again to realize your meeting with him, and I hope that you have seen him since the interview described. '■'■ On Saturday, for the first time in my life, I visited Hampton Court. You have, I doubt not, been there. Those spacious courts and extended gardens re- minded me of Versailles, for we have nothing that so much reminds us of the magnificence of Louis XIY. as Greenwich and Hampton Court, I much enjoyed my visit, ^^ At the time I am scribbling this, the weather is here delightful. I trust it is so with you, and that, however slowly, you are adding to your strength. With the heartiest desires for your welfare, I am, etc,'' MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. TO THE SAME. ^^ Kingslmid, August 18, 1846. ^^ My dear Sir : — Though I have not written to you, yet have you been much, very much, in my thoughts, and the more so because the replies to my inquiries after your welfare, from time to time, have been far from satisfactory. " Usually, I think, an abstinence from city busi- ness, and a banquet of country air, have had a salutary effect upon you; and though I have re- gretted that the same prescription could not be persevered in by you for a period sufficiently^ pro- longed to render you strong as a giant and fleet as an antelope, yet have you, I think, invariably been bettered by the breezes. " In my late attack, I was sadly prostrated in my strength, yet am I again, through mercy, equal to 'leap over a wall.^ May it be the same with you shortly, with an exulting heart beating in your bosom ! " You take your strolls, I suppose, according to your wont, and leisurely mark the waving of the trees and the soft, soothing rippling of the brook, as well as other innumerable solacing ruralities that sweetly minister to the body's health and mind's re- pose. The worst feature, however, of this mono- tonous retirement is, that, though it always soothes asperities, it sometimes creates, rather than dissi- DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL LIFE. 93 pates, lonely emotions. In illness we frequently want a voice still more cheerful and encouraging than the crow of the cock, the song of the lark, and the general jubilee of rejoicing creation. Our hearts are clamorous for a voice definitely directed to us — a human voice : we want what can sympa- thize with us, excite cheerfulness, and share our joy. The whistle of the ploughboy is any one's whistle who can enjoy it; the milkman's song is anybody's song; and even the merry laugh of the haymaker is general property. None of these are definitely onr's — not even one of them of necessity recognises our existence — and the only connection between them and us, in a melancholy moment, seems to be the circumstance that they happen to take place when we happen to be within hearing. '' I know that such sentiments as these are heresy against that high-wrought love of nature and rurality that sometimes brims our eyes and animates our hearts, yet for all this they are too true. I do hope that your rambles are often shared by those who would rejoice to see you rejoice, and mourn to see you mourn. I hope the cheerful voice of your niece occasionally rings around you, and also that now and then, but not too often, she plots a little good-natured mischief against her uncle. ^' 94 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. TO WILLIAM JONES, ESQ. '■^ Kingsland, August 21, 1853. " My dear Sir : — I am turning my face towards the sea, and shall take it kind of you if you can add to my gratification by supplying me with a few of my publications, to put into the hands of such as I think likely to read and to purchase. The moment that his face I see, | I know the man that must hear me; i To him my tale I teach. ] I I am not greedy, but a few will help me up nicely. ' ^^ I hope that you continue well, and are equal to i a brave struggle with old Father Winter when he comes, with his customary freedom flinging the | snow in our faces." n I TO THE SAME. ''Hastings, Oct. 6, 1853. | "My dear Sir: — I fear that in not writing a ' line to you earlier I have run no small risk of calling j up in your mind a suspicion that I am either ex- 1 tremely negligent or exceedingly ungrateful. The ' packet of books with which I was favoured when I ' came here ought to have been forthwith acknow- j lodged with my best thanks. There are those in ' the world in whose oiDinion we would not willingly ' lose grade, and certainly you are one of them, or j DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL LIFE. 95 rather one of those whose ill opinion would afflict me. Ever since I came here I have been increas- ingly subject to callers^ and they have been too many for my best resolutions. A daily abridgment of my time has been attended with its natural con- sequences, — a want of efficiency in duty, and a delay in things which ought to have been accomplished. Receive now those hearty thanks which long, long ago ought to have reached your hands. Mr. C tells me you have had benefit from your visit to Ramsgate — an information which was received with sincere pleasure. I know Ramsgate, but not suffi- ciently to picture your wanderings among the rocks and popular localities of the place. Since com- mencing this note, I have had three callers, and at this moment there are three artists sketching on the hill below; all of them are expecting me to join them. Two of them are well known to me, the other is a stranger. ^'I would, if I could, send you a bundle of sun- beams and a bag of sea-breezes from this place; but not being able to do this, you must kindly take the will for the deed, and give me full credit for being, my dear sir, ^^ Your's, truly obliged and very sincerely." Mr. IMogridge was not an inattentive observer of public affairs, though his politics took but little of a party character. On one subject, however, he was 96 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. most decided, — tliat of opposition to all tlie political as well as religious encroacliments of Popery. A letter to a friend, at a time when its insidious inroads had aroused the attention of all sound-hearted Pro- testants, afforded an occasion for a statement of his views of the true nature of that antichristian system. TO THE LATE REV. RICHARD H. SHEPHERD. ''August 16, 1843. " My good Friend : — I am not ungrateful for all your kindness. I shall store up your suggestions, all of which may be useful ; a part of them will be new. One friend in a corner like you is worth a hundred merely respectable acquaintances. * * * I will here copy a few lines from a paper I am now writing, from which you may learn how well we agree on the subject of Popery. "^I know that Christian charity is urgent in its demands, and that it will not abate a jot or tittle of its requirements, however much opposed to our in- clination. It requires the full and free forgiveness of our bitterest enemies, and it is at our peril that we refuse acquiescence in the demand. Thus spake the righteous Lord of earth and heaven, " Forgive, or thou shalt never be forgiven." ^^If ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you; but if ye forgive not :" see Matt. vi. 14, 15. Not once, nor twice, nor seven times^ are we to forgive, but " seventy times DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL LIFE. 97 seveD." The terms^ however, on whicli this forgive- ness is to be awarded are stated : the offence must be repented of. "If thy brother trespass against thee, rebuke him ; and if he repent, forgive him :'' Luke xvii. 3. " ' But has Popery repented the shedding of the blood of the martyrs, and has it given evidence of this repentance in word or deed? Is not the same creed held as heretofore, and are not the same intolerant principles avowed ? " 'True it is that we have no Gardiners nor Bon- ners exercising their ungodly bigotry and rancorous inhumanity, and that we have no Smithfield and Oldham fagot and fiames polluting earth and heaven with the unhallowed incense of human sacrifice; but what warrant is there that this will always be the case ? " ' Will you smile at an old man's fears, and talk garrulously about the " march of mind ?" Will you tell him that Popery has changed its character, and that cruelty has become obsolete ? If you know your own heart, you will be less confident in this matter. Good men have been destroyed by papists on the charge of " relapsing into heresy ;" is there no such thing as papists relapsing into cruelty? Do you not know that unsanctified human nature re- mains the same ? Have we not read in holy writ that the dog will return " to his own vomit again ; and the sow that was washed, to her wallowing in 98 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. the mire "? When tlie scotched snake recovers, does i it not use its poisoned fangs ? Why then may not ] Popery in power do what it has done in former j times ? " ' It may be that recent ponderings on the cruel ; sufferings of martyrs, and the unrighteous bitterness ] of their oppressors, have excited me too much with abhorrence and indignation; but unless my judg- \ ment be strangely perverted, I am justified in my ] present emotions; and I hold it not inconsistent with ' Christian charity to give utterance to the opinion . that, so long as there is the remotest probability, I had almost said possibility, of a return of these murderous martyrdoms, these ruffian-minded atroci- 1 ties, it is a duty to keep them alive in our remem- ' brance, and to hand them down from generation to generation, even to the end of the world/ '' I think to these sentiments you will subscribe, : and I know you have forbearance enough to pardon ' the portion of egotism which has mingled with their j avowal. " I love to think as good men think. Oh ! there | is something noble, exalted, heavenly, in loving i what is lovely, and pure, and good, and holy, and | waging an eternal warfare against hatred, and bit- I terness, and cruelty, and oppression, and sin of all kinds. We are never so strong as when defending j a good cause. * * * '' | When the heart of Old Humphrey was oppressed j DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL LIFE. 99 with sorrow, or when called to sympathize in the grief of others, there was much tenderness in the expression of his feelings and pious wisdom in the sentiments he avowed. The ensuing letters were written in times of affliction. TO A REVEREND FRIEND. ''Kingsland, 3lmj 2, 1845. ^^ Since we met, no doubt we have both had a few bodily and mental twinges, without which we should, perhaps, neither sufficiently estimate our mercies on this side the river, nor so often yearn for the sinless and sorrowless peace and joy that exists on the other. What would the best picture that bright- eyed, ready-handed genius ever flung on canvas be, without shadows ? and what would all the college ad- vantages be to the wisest and best .among mankind, had they not, now and then, a profitable lesson in the school of affliction? " When winds and waves unite to foil The seaman's skill — the care, the toil With which he feels oppress'd I When he surveys the low'ring skies, Then hope and fear alternate rise Within his troubled breast. " But if the raging storm subside. And that for which he deeply sigh'd — A pleasing calm — succeed, He sure enjoys the pleasure more. From what his mind had felt before. And then is bless'd indeed. 100 MEMOIR OF OLD HUiMPHREY. ^^ Again is the green leaf come, and once more is the breath of spring breathing around, making me yearn for the dell, the dingle, and the dancing daf- fodils. A rural scene is a library; and the skies, the clouds, the hills, the valleys, the trees, the birds, the insects, the flowers, the leaves, and the blades of grass, are books of prose and poesy, of elegant extracts and of practical information, by which we may improve in natural history, botany, science, and philosophy, and in which we may read essays on simplicity, lectures on economy, and profitable sermons on the greatness and goodness of God. I should like to pull about the books of this library with you, vastly — both of us up to our knees in buttercups, up to our chins in happiness, and our heads and ears in thankfulness and praise. And I always rise in my own estimation as I subscribe my- self, my dear, good sir, with Christian afiection, " Your friend.'^ TO THE SAME. "Auffust 30, 1842. '' My DEAR, GOOD Friend : — Many thanks for your sympathy and kindness. Yes, ' if the master pleases,' I will send, addressed to you, for your daughter, (whose worthy husband had me among his congre- gation on Sunday week,) a few lines from the pen of Old Humphrey. I thank her for the compliment DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL LIFE. 101 implied by lier request. The waters are gathering yet deeper around me; though not so deep, but, standing on the Rock of ages, I can regard them without fear. My son, aged fifteen, the youngest, is on a bed of sickness': we have cause for much anxiety on his account. My poor daughter will, I think, be here but a short time longer. She is in an adjoining room to that of her brother, sinking very fast. Her physician, I think, has not a hope, and I have numbered her among those who "o out of great tribulation, to be arrayed in white. ^'You see at the moment my hands and my heart are full -, and you have too much kindness in your nature to put any but the kindest construction on this hasty note. I picture you in your study; the blessings of the book of books rest upon you, and they are neither few nor small. You were, when you last wrote, a little cast down ; but I hope that you are now a 'mailed man.^ More is He who is for us 'than they who are against us,^ and we shall even yet be more than conquerors. To good Mrs. Shep- herd and your daughter, fail not to make my re- membrance acceptable, and never, in your list of friends, omit his name who is your's with unfeigned aflfection." TO THE SAME. "Jiihj 17, 1848. " My DEAR, GOOD Friend : — * * '''No dis- loyalty, no diminution of respect, no lack of affec- 9* 102 MEMOIR or OLD HUJIPHREY. tion you-ward, occasioned my leaving your note so long unanswered. Doubt it not; believe it fullj and faithfully. " Sorry you are 'unwell/ but this is the charter, all covenanted and provided for among the 'all things ' that shall work for good. '' Some strange things have occurred, some strange parts have been played on the ' world's wide stage/ since last we met ; we must talk of them and better things. I trust you can still strike the in- strument of ' ten strings/ still sweep the heavenly harp with a master's hand, with a heart-glowing burst of hallelujahs. It is easy to rejoice in sun- shine — be it the part of my dear friend to exult in shadows. ' Though He slay me/ said Job. That is the spirit. Come years, come infirmities, care, pains, sorrows, darkness, and approaching death; still to know Him in whom we have believed. Let this be our aim, to know, to trust, to magnify. * * * I am, my dear good friend, not likely to be other than your's very heartily and affectionately. '^ TO THE REV. S. LLOYD. '' April 2o, 1853. My DEAR Sir : — I have just received your kind communication, with the shadowy intelligence it contains. It affords me unfeigned satisfaction to perceive in the midst of your mourning that you have strong consolation, and are enabled to look DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL LIFE. 103 rather to tlie heavenly glory surrounding your de- parted brother, than to dwell on the earthly gloom from which he has been mercifully taken. I will not trouble you with my own emotions further than to say that, excepting his immediate relatives, no one will more affectionately foster the remembrance of your departed brother than myself. On his de- cease I cannot but mourn because I am selfish, and I cannot but rejoice at his deliverance, because he was afflicted, and I loved him. " I am not unmindful, my dear sir, of your kind- ness in asking me, in the midst of your affliction, by your own pen, to be one of the mourners on the iapproaching melancholy occasion. With chastened .satisfaction, all well, I will attend, and for this pur- pose accept your kind invitation. Let me be re- spectfully and affectionately remembered to the sor- rowing hearts around you, and believe me to be, my dear sir, with much sympathy, your's, very truly obliged.'^ TO MISS SHEPHERD, ON THE DEATH OF HER FA- THER, THE REV. R. H. SHEPHERD, CHELSEA. "i/a?/20, 1850. "My DEAR Miss Shepherd: — I really hardly know whether to weep with you, or rejoice; whether to condole with you, or to congratulate you. I could do either or all with a full heart. And can it be that my dear, good, and much-honoured friend is 104 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. now in glory ? Shall I never again receive, from his talented hand and warm heart, a playful, a friendly, and a patriarchal epistle ? ' The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away ; blessed be the name of the Lord !' Hardly can there be one who honoured your dear father more than I. I shall go, not a weeping — so far as sorrow is concerned, but as a rejoicing — pilgrim, to Norwood Cemetery, when I know where you ^have laid him.' I heartily thank God, who, of his infinite goodness and mercy, has taken to himself my dear departed brother. His gloom is now changed into gladness, and his pains into pleasures. You all know where to go for con- solation and strength, even to Hhe Rock, the Rock of ages,' in which your honoured father trusted. Grrace, mercy, and peace rest upon you all. Af- fectionately would I be remembered to all. " I remain your sincere friend." To gratify a widening circle of friendship, Mr. Mogridge's muse was often laid under tribute. Birthday poems were forwarded — in some instances annually — expressive of his hopes and wishes for those he loved. The three following were addressed on such occasions: the first to a young lady; the second, as the lines express, was sent after the birthday had passed; the third was to a venerable lady, who had shown much kindness to the author of it. DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL LIFE. TO MISS August 2, 1853. Dear Anna, thy birthday again Sets my heart and my spirits a-ehiming, So, instanter, I take up my pen, To give thee a page of my rhyming. Though the summer is vanishing fast, . The autumn bee still is heard humming ; Then smile at thy cares that are past, And look on to thy comforts a-coming. Do I wish thee long days of delights. Unshaded by sorrow and sadness. With painless and peaceable nights, And awakings of sunshine and gladness ? Ay, all, and a thousand times more. With the joy that the heart most allureth, An(J that jewel, the true "Koh-i-noor," Content, and the "hope that endureth." Too much do I prize thee to tie Thy desires where thy heart might be friendless ; Thy enjoyments must stretch to the sky, And be dimless, and boundless, and endless. Be thine, then, a foretaste of love, For a season delightful and vernal. With hereafter a summer above. Unchanging, and bright, and eternal. Be grateful when blessings arise. And confide, when thy troubles confound thee, In thy Father who rules in the skies, And his angels shall hover around thee. 106 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. Though the summer is vanishing fast, The autumn bee still is heard humming ; Then smile at thy cares that are past, And look on to thy comforts a-coming. AFTER THE FAIR. To Miss , sent after her Birthday, Dec. 10, 1850. In the days of ray boyhood I heard the bells chime. And set out for the village In holiday time ; But, alas ! for I loiter'd, And did not get there ' - (It sadly perplex'd me) Till after the fair. Ah me ! how the cares Of the world, as they move, Drive away from our thoughts E'en the friends that we love, Till they rush on our hearts With reproach's wild glare. And remind us our friendship Is after the fair. In playing the poet, The kind-hearted pen Should be prompt in its oflferings To women or men; DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL LIFE. 107 For the sweetest effusions, Though written with care, When too late, may be said to be After the fair. ' Alas ! my dear Anna," I say, with a sigh, ■ Once again, to my grief. Has the birthday gone by ; And my stanzas, now sent. Be they worthless or rare. Will arrive — how provoking ! — Long after the fair." I desire and I pray That God's grace may be given, To guard thee on earth And to guide thee to heaven ; But I know, to my sorrow, My wish and my prayer, Though they fly, cannot reach thee Till after the fair. Forgive me, dear Anna : Thy pardon shall prove That thy heart is a heart Of forgiveness and love ; But I know thou wilt pardon, And take as they are These few lines of affection. Though after the fair. 108 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. TO THE HONOURED ANCIENT^ ON HER BIRTHDAY. Honoured ancient, many days Thou hast worn the garb of sadness ; He who watches all thy ways Soon shall change thy gloom to gladness ; He whom thou hast trusted long, Love and mercy go before Him. He is wise, and he is strong — Still adore him, still adore him. Would that I could give relief, Gently soothe the pains that grieve thee ! But take heart amid thy grief; He, thy Lord, will never leave thee. Hark ! I hear the angels cry, "Whither wouldst thou wander, whither? All is peaceful in the sky — Come up hither, come up hither." Kound thee bend a loving throng. Oh, how ardently they love thee ! Angels are thy guests among. And thy Saviour is above thee. Think how hardly he was tried, When with cruel hands they tore him : 'Twas for thee he bled and died — Still adore him, still adore him. He shall change the darksome cloud To golden beams and silvery lightness. Comfort thee, and call aloud, And bid thy sun go down in brightness. DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL LIFE, 109 Hark ! again the angels cry, " Goodliest things on earth must wither, All are fadeless in the sky — Come up hither, come up hither." In the days when albums were in fashion^ and at times when his young friends tried their skill in musical composition^ and required some original lines for the purpose, his pen was in frequent re- quisition; and though often to his inconvenience, it was not in his nature to refuse a request, whether made by old or young. A few specimens from his portfolio may be here given : — MERCY. How oft, amid the murky shroud. The sunbeam wins its way, And, breaking from the thunder-cloud, Proclaims a goodly day ! How often, too, with waving wings, When judgments seem to roll, Mercy flies kindly forth, and flings Her sunbeams on the soul ! THE IVY. Ivy, thou art ever green ; Let me changeless then be seen; While my Saviour loves me, ne'er Let my love grow old and sere. 10 110 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. Ivy, clinging round the tree, Gladly would I learn of thee ; Clinging, as the year goes round, To the cross would I be found. OLD Humphrey's inquiries. Art thou a pilgrim ? dost thou travel straight By Calvary's cross, to find the narrow gate ? Is Christ thy hope, thy trust ? yea, day by day Thy guide, thy staff, thy lantern, and thy way ? Canst thou for him renounce thy worldly pride? Is he thy riches ? Is all dross beside ? Is he thy sword and shield in peril's hour ? Thy rock, thy refuge, thine abiding tower ? If, with thy wealth around thee, thou-canst bend, And seek with all thy soul the sinner's Friend, A beggar still at mercy's open door. Then art thou rich indeed : if not, thou'rt poor. WHO ART THOU? Art thou young, and this world dost thou love ? Oh, why shouldst thou thoughtlessly roam ? Thy Father is calling thy young heart above, And the beautiful heavens are thy home : To thj home, truant hoy, to tliy Jiome. DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL LIFE. Ill Hast thou number'd the years of a man ? Oh, think then in time of thine end ; Though thy griefs may be many — though life be a span, Yet God is thy Father and Friend : To thy Friend, man of grief , to thy Friend! Art thou aged in yeal-s and in woes, And weary, and worn, and oppressed ? There's a peace for the pilgrim, a place of repose, And heaven is appointed for rest : To thy rest, man of years, to thy rest ! "JESUS DIED/' With erring heart I went astray In paths of sin, and wander' d wide, Till Mercy met me in my way, And softly whisper'd, " Jesus died." Offended at that sudden sound. Indignantly I turned aside ; But still the voice was heard around. And still it whisper'd, " Jesus died.'' Then Justice cross'd my path, and stood, Erect and stern, to quell my pride ; His glittering sword was bathed in blood ; Ah ! well for me that " Jesus died." 112 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. Come forth, thou traitor to thy God," His voice in thundering accents cried; Oppressed, I sank upon the sod. And faintly answered, " Jesus died/^ E'en as I falter'd forth the word, He strove his blushing face to hide, And sheathed in haste his blood-stain'd sword ; And then I shouted, " Jesus died !" COURAGE, CHRISTIAN. Though thy sins were untold as the sands, Thy Saviour has scatter'd them wide ; Oh, look on the palms of his hands. And the rent and the stream at his side. So long as thy Saviour shall reign, And the throne of his glory endure, So long will his promise remain, And thy pardon and peace be secure. The glowing piety apparent in some of the pre- ceding contributions, and others in this volume, partook of a more subdued and chastened character in ,the Christian life of their author. His piety was indeed of a quiet and unobtrusive character, 'with great meekness, he would at times refer to the lowly, abasing views of himself which possessed DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL LIFE. 113 his mind. He felt that he must lie very low at the foot of the cross, seeking for salvation only for the righteousness' sake of his divine Redeemer. But whatever were the sentiments as to his own religious experience, those who knew him best in the family circle, or in the intimacy of friendship, felt that they might, without irreverence, apply to him the Saviour's commendation of Nathaniel : " Behold an Israelite indeed, in whom is no guile V 10* 114 MEMOIR OP OLD HUMPHREY. CHAPTER YI. LAST DAYS OF OLD HUMPHREY. Years passed away in active literary engagements, until Mr, Mogridge became a real " Old Humphrey/' But with advancing age came weakness and afflic- tion; chiefly from the effects of a sprained ankle. He thus describes the occasion of his inconvenience and pain : — " I was returning home late, (sadly too late for one of my years, for it was eleven o'clock at night, but I had beeu unexpectedly detained,) when suddenly I set my foot on a broken flag-stone. Something gave a snap, but at the moment so intense was my agony, that I knew not whether it was my leg, or a piece of wood on the flag-stone. A deathly coldness came over me, and I thought that my senses were about to leave me ] so, steadying myself against a closed shop-window, I awaited the crisis. A cold perspiration having somewhat relieved me, and being near my abode, I hopped to some palisades by the road-side, and, with the assistance they afforded me, contrived to reach my own habitation. What a blessing it is to be calm and collected in bodily affliction ! This has hitherto almost always been LAST DAYS OF OLD HUMPHREY. 115 the case witli me, and it was so on the occasion to whicli I have alluded. I succeeded in getting off my boot, and, perceiving how much my foot and ankle were bruised, swollen, and inflamed, immedi- ately applied to a surgeon ; happily, no bones were broken.^' This painful casualty elicited the sympathy and kind attentions of all to whom Mr. Mogridge was known; which he acknowledged, in his own cheer- ful and agreeable way, in the two pieces, "On a Sprained Ankle," and a "Little Gossip about a Lame Foot ;" pieces' which, it is known, have af- forded profitable instruction to some similarly afflict- ed. It soon became evident that the effect of the injury was an impaired state of health. From that time, he was unable to vi^t his favourite localities, and but seldom to enjo* the society of endeared friends. Instead of revelling in the meadows and among the hedgerows of the country, his study was now the chief scene of his meditations. Here he continued to pen those "Addresses,'^ and "Obser- vations," and "Appeals," which were welcome to thousands of his admiring readers. He sat from hour to hour at his little table, his books spread around him, the Holy Bible in the most conspicuous place, and a large card before him, on which were written, in a bold style, the three words, Allure- Instruct — Impress, to remind him of his work, and the way in which it was to be done. 116 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. Nor was his pen less active in this season of bodily infirmity than in times of better health ; for his mental power remained in all its freshness and vigour to the last week of his life. The periodicals of the Religious Tract Society were regularly sup- plied with papers, besides additions made by him to the series of books for the young. In the spring of 1854, the health of Mr. Mo- gridge became weaker ; and though medical aid was promptly sought, and all the care that the most affectionate solicitude could give was tenderly and perseveringly rendered, yet it became increasingly evident that his labours were drawing to a close. He thus wrote, under date April 20, 1854 : — ^^ For more than three months I have been under the doctor's hands, an(| am, as it were, as weak as water : my hand shales, and my frame shrinks away. Under these circumstances, just for the present, I am able to do very little with my pen, and at times I cannot write ten minutes in the whole day. I am purposing to set my face towards the country or the sea, with the hope that Grod, in his goodness, will send abroad the breezes with healing on their wings." The summer, however, was spent in the chamber of sickness, in much languor and painfulness. He who had often cheered a weary pilgrim in the de- cline of life had now to apply to his own heart the rich consolations of the gospel. There was the LAST DAYS OF OLD HUMPHREY. 117 same tappy and devout frame of mind^ tliere were the same humility and faith^ which had distinguished him in the buoyancy of life. Through the grace of the Holy Spirit, he was enabled to manifest that submission to the will of his Heavenly Father, to which he had so often exhorted others; though sometimes, in the greatest of his pain, the plaintive cry of the patriarch was forced from his lips: — '^Have pity upon me, have pity upon me, ye my friends; for the hand of Grod hath touched me.'' Job xix. 21. The confidence of the beloved suiFerer in the di- vine faithfulness was undiminished. In the strength of faith he not only adopted the apostle's words, but entered into a realizing conviction of their truth : ^^For which cause we faint not; but, though our outward man perish, yet the inward man is renewed day by day. For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory:" 2 Cor. iv. 16, 17. "Though I know not the measure of my days," he wrote, " I well know there is but ' a step between me and death ;' and though I cannot tell what yet remains for me to do, willingly would I have my last act to be a deed of kindness, and my last breath to be a Hallelujah." It was in his nature to look at the bright side of every event. He saw an oasis in every desert and a glittering star in the darkest sky. Not only was 118 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. he hopeful himself in the season of sickness, but he sought to make all in his family circle hopeful also. When he spoke, his eye was lit up with animation, and his words were full of encouragement. ^^ The blackest night will have a day;^' ^' Many a broken ship gets safe to land/ ^ "Give it up? No, never!" and ''Hope on to the end,'' are words that were frequently on his lips. The ground of his hope for eternal life had long been before the world. '' Without reservation, I renounce all other hope, and look to the Saviour, and the Saviour alone, for salvation. That Christ has died for me, is my hope and my joy, the rock on which I stand, the boat in which I hope to pass the swellings of Jordan. I have no other plea than this for justification at the judgment-day, and no other claim to enter the kingdom of glory." In this confidence he reposed to the end. The lowly and contrite state of mind which he cherished are also exhibited in a brief fragmentary paper he penned a short time before his decease. "MAKE HASTE TO HELP ME. "Hasten to help me, heavenly Father, for without thee I am as nothing, and can do nothing. * Make haste to help me, Lord my salvation.' " Help me to believe that thou hearest me when I pray unto thee. ' Hear my prayer, Lord, give LAST DAYS OF OLD HUMPHREY. 119 ear to my supplications : in thy faithfulness answer me^ and in thy righteousness/ ^^ Help me in subduing my stubborn will, and in humbling my pride, so that I may offer thee an acceptable sacrifice. ^The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit : a broken and a contrite heart, God, thou wilt not despise/ "Help me to confess to thee freely my trans- gressions. 'Lord, I acknowledge my sin and my iniquity. Deliver my soul; oh, save me for thy mercy's sake.' "Help me to believe that thou lovest me: help me to love thee. ' God is love.' Thou sayest, ' I love them that love me.' " Help me to see that Thou art ever with me. ^ Fear thou not ', for I am with thee. The Lord is nigh unto all that call upon him.' " Help me to be patient under trials and afflic- tions. ' The Lord will not cast off for ever : but though he cause grief, yet will he have compassion, according to the multitude of his mercies.' 'Ye have need of patience, that, after ye have done the will of God, ye might receive the promise.' " Help me to forgive injuries. ' If ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you : but if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.' "Help me more diligently to read the sacred 120 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. Scriptures, and better to understand their gracious contents. ^All Scripture is given by inspiration of Godj and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness.' " Help me to value more highly the means of grace, and to encourage more steadfastly the hope of glory, through the Lamb of God that taketh away the sins of the world. ^ Serve the Lord with glad- ness : come before his presence with singing. Enter into his gates with thanksgiving, and into his courts with praise : be thankful unto him, and bless his name.' " Help me more clearly to discern that Jesus Christ is my only hope and my all : having him, I possess all things. ' Whom have I in heaven but thee ? and there is none upon earth that I desire beside thee.' " Help me, at all times, to know and to do Thy sacred will : — "To love and serve the Lord on high With earnest, best endeavour; Then will I praise and magnify Thy holy name forever." The smallest offices of Christian friendship, and the humblest acts of kindness, called forth expres- sions of gratitude. The churlish temper of " Farmer Grumley," which he has so graphically described when it was soured by sickness, never brought dis- comfort into Mr. Mogridge's dwelling. The loving LAST DAYS OF OLD HUMPHREY. 121 care of liis wife enkindled the tenderest emotions in his heart; nor were the most ordinary attentions of his domestic servant (who had been one of his household for more than thirty years — a fact alike honourable to both parties) received without some word of thankful acknowledgment. But while susceptible of the most grateful feelings for human kindness, his breast glowed with loving adoration to God for the support and comfort he found in the season of trial. ^^ Put me into your prayers, and put me into your praises/' he said, with much earnestness, as he grasped the hand of a friend after a profitable interview. His chamber was indeed illuminated by the hope of eternal life. " I never think of death,'' he said, "but I think of heaven :" they were so connected in his view, that the gloom of the one was irradiated by the glory of the other. "A good and excellent thing it is," he thus ex- pressed himself, "in the midst of the manifold changes of the world, to have our hearts fixed where alone true joys are to be found, and to be able to say, in deed and in truth, ^ My times are in Thy hand;' 'I will bless the Lord at all times: his praise shall continually be in my mouth. mag- nify the Lord with me, and let us exalt his name together.' " In the same Christian spirit, he wrote : — " Even now I am indulging in an imaginary scene : I am 11 122 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. looking onward to the time wlien I shall have been called away from the world; when this hand of mine shall be mouldering in the grave, and some reader, in a contemplative mood, shall be pondering my humble writings. I am neither ambitious nor solicitous on other points, but I do wish him to be- lieve that Old Humphrey had a warm desire ever glowing in his heart for the welfare of his fellow men, and an ardent anxiety to extend the glory of the Redeemer." Those who best knew the writer of these sentiments will not regard them as the lano;uan for the occasion, and texts of holy Scripture are ostentatiously paraded to the eye, rather than lovingly commended to the heart; but chastened, mature, and experienced epistles of Christian piety, setting forth faithfully solemn Scriptural truths, as well as promises of divine consolation, showing, with the desire to minister to the comfort of the perishing body, a yet greater anxiety for the welfare of the undying soul. Here, then, was the link uniting earthly with heavenly things, and pressing on my consideration the goodness of God, even in the lesser events of life. I was just in the frame of mind to enable me to get good from book and letters. Again, I say, that the closer we connect our earthly objects with 15 170 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. our heavenly hopes, the greater will be our peace; and the clearer we discern the hand of our Heavenly- Father in our daily concerns, the more shall we reverence him, love him, and live to his glory. Oh, the unspeakable consolation of the presence of God in seasons of affliction ! Well may we pray that " the peace of God, which passeth all under- standing," may ^' keep " our '^ hearts and minds in the knowledge and love of God, and of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.'' In such seasons, with an humble, broken, contrite, and grateful spirit, we call to mind our mercies, and our language is, "Bless the Lord, my soul; and all that is within me, bless his holy name. Bless the Lord, my soul, and forget not all his benefits: who forgiveth all thine iniquities; who healeth all thy diseases; who redeemeth thy life from destruction ; who crowneth thee with loving-kindness and tender mercies:" Psa. ciii. 1—4. The kindness of our friends may be regarded as a brook by the way, to comfort us in our pilgrim course; whose stream becomes the more refreshing when we believe that the fountain whence it flows is the love of our Heavenly Father, who gave his Son to die for sinners; and it is no trifling alleviation to know, in the midst of our afflictions, that they pro- ceed from the same Almighty "source of goodness and mercy, and are sent for our advantage. Whether, then, we enjoy or sufi'er, "the grace of our Lord A LEAF FROM THE BOOK OF AFFLICTION. ITI Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Ghost/' should be the subject of our daily thoughts, thus uniting our passing interests with our everlasting expectations. Help me, Lord, in all my infirmities ; forgive all my transgressions, and abundantly increase my love and knowledge of Him, whom to know is eter- nal life. My grovelling spirit in thy mercy raise; Let holy objects to my heart bo given, That faith may mingled be with prayer and praise, And all my earthly ends with hopes of heaven. I Lord, let me see thy hand through life and death, "Where'er abroad my wandering feet may rove, And humbly serve thee till my latest breath, And love thee with an everlasting love. 172 OLD HUMrHREY's PORTFOLIO. THE SUNNY SABBATH. There are many sources of consolation and joj, but hardly is there among them all a more grateful cordial to a man's heart, or a steadier friend in help- ing him through his troubles, than a sunny Sabbath. In this observation I allude not so much to the state of the weather as to the state of the affections ; not so much to the brightness of the day as to the buoyancy of the heart. Give a working-man plenty to do and good wages, and let him prosper every day of the week; but only let him misuse or think lightly of the Sabbath, and I promise him his heart' s-ease shall be scarce. But, whatever may be his cares, a sunny Sabbath will gently soothe his disquietude, and bind up the bones that have been broken. "A Sabbath well spent brings a week of content, And gives peace both to-day and to-morrow; But a Sabbath profaned, whate'er maj' be gain'd. Is a certain forerunner of sorrow." , To all, a day of rest, and peace, and holy joy, is a great advantage, but especially to one who labours through the week. What a shady seat or a draught THE SUNNY SABBATH. 173 of cool water is to a toil-spent traveller, a sunny Sabbath is to a working-man. It eases and refreshes him, and recruits his strength and courage. True, it adds nothing to his weekly wages and takes away none of his daily labour; but it lightens his spirit and makes his heart thankful. A short time ago, I had such a sunny Sabbath that the very remembrance of it is joyful to me. If, reader,. you have never known a season in which the weather, your natural and spiritual affections, and all things around you, have contributed to make your heart, as it were, dance for joy, hardly shall I be able to make you understand my emotions ; but if you have known such a delightful holiday of the spirit, you will not begrudge the time spent in going with me to Fairlight Church. Fairlight is about two or three miles from Hast- ings, and the walk is a very agreeable one. After standing a moment or two on Minnis' Rock, to take a brief view of Hastings, the sea, High-Wickham, the West Cliff, the Castle Hill, and other heights, I turned my face eastward, and soon gained the higher ground. As I looked around, all things reminded me of repose and peace. The cattle in the fields and the sheep on the hills were grazing in quietude. The snowy clouds were motionless in the heavens; the leaves of the trees quivered not on the branches; and when I turned my eyes towards Windmill Hill, 15* 174 OLD hUxMPHrey's portfolio. tlie mill, instead of wildly brandishing its arms in the air according to its usual fashion, stood as still as if it were a picture painted against the sky. By degrees I grew yet more grateful and happy, — so much so that I marvelled at the intensity of my own joy. As the lark rose up on high, I blessed him ; the sea-cobs, as they waved their lengthy wings above me, bore away with them a kindly wish from me for their welfare ; and the very hawk that was hovering in the air over his prey had from me no expression of hatred or reproach : all I wished was that if he must kill his bird, or his field-mouse, to satisfy his hunger, he would do it in the quickest way possible, and not protract its sufferings. It was delightful to find my heart going forth towards every creature that God had made, and still more so towards human kind, whether sojourners in the crowded city, or wanderers of the solitary wilder- ness. I had neither head-ache nor heart-ache ; all my cares were forgotten, or swallowed up in my thankfulness. Who was I, that such an unbounded measure of delight should be awarded me ? In that buoyant state of my spirit, I saw and felt nothing but gladness. How bright were the heavens, how blue the sky, and how green the grass beneath my feet ! The air was fresh and pure ; and, as I walked through the fields., my pathway was decked on either side with daisies and dandelions. The THE SUNNY SABBATH. 175 hedgerows were adorned with beauty, and the very brambles were covered with blackberries. The sun that was beaming above me seemed to shine into my heart. A sensible presence of God's goodness gladdened my spirit, and every now and then I burst into an audible hallelujah. I felt like one in love with heaven and earth, the "sea and all that in them is.^' Prayer and praise were alternate on my lips. All nature appeared to rejoice. The hills seemed to " break forth into singing,'^ and the trees of the fields to " clap their hands. ^' Not only my natural but my spiritual affections were also called forth. I felt that it was indeed the Sabbath-day, and that the "sound of the church- going bell" was then inviting me to the sanctuary of the Lord, " to render thanks for the great benefits received at his hands, to set forth his most worthy praise, to hear his most holy word, and to ask those things which are requisite and necessary as well for the body as the soul.'' Times without number had I used them without emotion, but now I felt the full import of the words — " Lord, how delightful 'tis to see A whole assembly worship thee ! At once they sing, at once they pray. They hear of heaven, and learn the way." As I entered the portal of Fairlight Church, my heart was drawn towards my fellow-worshippers, and 176 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. I felt it to be a good thing to wait upon the Lord. The first words spoken by the minister were not only a textj but a sermon in themselves : "If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness :" 1 John i. 8, 9. Had I heard nothing more than these words, I should not have returned home empty-hearted. Pleasant as food to the hungry are kind words to us, when we feel kindly. At the end of the gospel was the following mercy-loving admonition: '^Let all bitterness, and wrath, and anger, and clamour, and evil-speaking, be put away from you, with all malice. And be ye kind one to another, tender- hearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ's sake hath forgiven you :" Eph. iv. 31, 32. What heart-burnings and unkindness would be prevented among us by a general attention to this advice of the apostle, and what briers and thorns would be removed from our paths ! The sermon followed; and faithfully were we told of the idol that the world is ever setting up before us in its seductions and temptations, and earnestly were we reminded that there was no middle course. We must either bow down to the idol, or worship in sincerity the Grod of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. THE SUNNY SABBATH. 177 As I returned from Fairlight Churcli, my fellow- worshippers, by degrees, turned off along the lanes and fields, till I found myself alone. No, not alone; for I had His presence who had so wondrously lifted up my heart in joy and with thankfulness. My soul truly magnified the Lord, and my spirit re- joiced in God my Saviour. A faithful and affectionate sermon, afterwards heard at St. Mary's, did much to rekindle the fer- vour of my morning emotions, so that my head was, as it were, anointed with oil, and my cup made to run over. A sunny Sabbath of this kind is not often passed. Would that it were otherwise ! Would that every spirit that is bowed down could be fre- quently lifted Tip, and every heart that is sorrowful be filled with joy ! Some of my readers may think me too serious, while others may regret that my remarks are not so weighty as they should be. Meekly will I endeavour to bear either, or both, of these re- proaches. I have faithfully depicted my emotions, with a kind intention, and hope thereby to call forth sunny recollections in other hearts. Hardly can it be out of character in an old man to en- courage his younger friends to gladden their pre- ' sent and brighten their future hours by faith in that merciful Saviour who died that we might live forever. 178 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. Corue sudden death, come flood, or flame, Who trust in a Redeemer's name Are still secure, for thrones on high Await their entrance to the sky; And crowns of gold their brows shall wear, Who thus, through Christ, for death prepare. Long shall I remember Fairliglit, and Fairlight Church ; and many things shall I forget before my sunny Sabbath will be blotted from my memory. OLD HUMPHREY AT HASTINGS. 179 OLD HUMPHKEY AT HASTINGS. Bear with an old man's prattle, for his heart Beats lovingly for thee, and all mankind. ^' Stands Hastings where it did ?" said I, trying to be cheerful, as I hobbled along with difficulty, supported by two porters, from the railway to the vehicle engaged to carry me to my place of destina- tion. But no, it would not do. I was too much subdued and exhausted by my transit from ''the mart of all the earth/^ to be cheerful. I had been carried, on account of extreme weakness, from my cab at the London Bridge Station, to the carriage that was to bear me onwards; and some feared that I should sink by the way, and never reach Hastings. It pleased the Father of mercies that it should be otherwise. But, if not cheerful, I was at least grateful, for I was not unmindful that, in all my preceding visits to this delightful locality, the sea and land breezes had gathered round me with healing on their wings, and I was sanguine enough to hope and trust that I should again be benefited with a like result. I looked around with a thankful heart to the great Giver of all good, and with kindly feelings for my 180 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. fellow-passengers, as well as for the porters bustling about me, and tbe driver and bis borse waiting for my accommodation. As I moved onward in an open carriage, tbe fresb, gentle breeze much revived me, and familiar objects presented themselves. Two of the three windmills near the West Hill were at work- the old castle, in ruin, reminded me that, like my own, the best of its days were passed. The sea was roll- ing along its sparkling billows, as it was wont to do thousands of years ago ; bathing-machines stood on the shore, their wheels partly in and partly out of the water. The Marine Parade was peopled with visitors ; the great dial, hanging over High street, pointed to a quarter-past five; the magnolia, for such I take it to be, covering the front of the house of Earl Waldegrave, was adorned with magnificent flowers. All things appeared as I had before seen them, only that the old man, the knitter of night- caps, who for so many years had occupied a corner at the entrance of the London road, was no longer an inhabitant of the world. For the first few days of my sojourn at Hastings, I could not go from one room to another, even with help, without difiiculty; but now, with a stick and a friendly arm, I can walk a hundred yards, and perhaps two hundred. This is to me a source of great enjoyment and thankfulness, and it has sug- gested a thought to me that would afibrd me much OLD HUMPHREY AT HASTINGS. 181 satisfaction if it could be rendered practical; and I see no good reason why it should not. What is the use of our feeling grateful, unless we embody our emotions in useful or benevolent action ? Deeds of love to man are the very soul of thanks- giving to Orod. When Simon Peter declared that he loved the Saviour, the latter required some proof of his assertion : '■^ Feed my sheep/^ and " Feed my lambs.'' The number of visitors to Hastings is great, and it is not unreasonable thence to conclude that the greater part of them must derive health or pleasure from their temporary residence. For this they are, or ought to be, grateful ) why not, then, make mani- fest their gratitude by some act of kindness to a place that has so largely contributed to their benefit ? Some opulent visitors have the means of doing good on a large scale, while most of us can do it only on a small one. It is not, however, the amount, but the motive of the giver, that ennobles the gift. Hastings has charities whose funds are low ) schools that require support; poor fishermen, who, from shipwreck, want of success, and other causes, suffer much ; and sick and poor people standing in need of assistance. Now, if every grateful visitor, in a spirit of thankfulness, would do ever so little in the way of philanthropy, the aggregate would be very considerable. Were a moiety only of those in the long lists of visitors that appear in the newspapers 16 182 to act upon this suggestion, what a desirable acces- sion it would prove to the cause of humanity, and what a noble number of good Samaritans might thereby pour oil and wine into the wounds of the afflicted ! It is said that on the overland passage across the desert to India there is a tree covered with frag- ments of dress, and other articles, hung there by pilgrims and travellers, to show their gratitude for the protection and safety vouchsafed them; and in Roman Catholic countries, it is a common thing for such as profess to have been cured by miracles to leave behind them their crutches or other manifes- tations of past infirmity, by way of thankfulness. Let us not, then, be outdone by Mohammedans and fanatics ; but, as a Christian people, show our thank- fulness in a Christian manner. In one of my walks in the Hackney Fields, Lon- don, before my illness, I found a poor beetle in my pathway, on his back, vainly struggling and striving to recover his feet. ''Friend Sable-coat," said I, playfully, ''the proverb has it, that 'a friend in need is a friend indeed,' and I have arrived just in time, it seems, to verify the adage ', but as thou art really down, there will be no harm in my profiting by thy fall." So, taking out my glass, I attentively ex- amined his curious formation; after which I gently laid across him a blade of grass, which enabled him once more to get on his legs and hide himself in a OLD HUMPHREY AT HASTINGS. 183 hole in the ground. Whether he thanked me or not, I cannot say, not knowing the way in which such creatures express their thanks } but I felt quite certain, whether I had increased his happiness or not, I had added some little to my own. Now in Hastings there are human beetles on their backs, or, in other words, cases of distress which need assistance. Gentle reader, let me be- seech you to act upon my suggestion. I wish neither to apportion the stream of your benevo- lence, nor to direct the express channel through which it should flow, but only to urge you to do something, be it much or little, of a useful or charitable character; not ostentatiously, but mo- destly; and if your name remain unknown, so much the better. Should you be at a loss how to proceed, not knowing suitable objects for your sympathy, ministers of the gospel, as well as the conductors of newspapers, with other influential and well-known benevolent persons, would most, if not all of them, doubtless, willingly and faith- fully assist in the disposal of your bounty. While we offer to Grod thanksgiving for our abundant harvest, and pray that the sword may be scabbarded and the pestilence stayed, let us be neither unmindful of our own particular bless- ings, nor ungrateful for them. In penning this paper, I have three objects in view. First, kindly to reprove a spirit of repining in which too many 1^4: OLD Humphrey's portfolio. indulge ; next, to call out thankfulness in tlie heart; and lastly, to move the hand to gentle deeds of charity. Having just forged a fable in my mental smithy, on the subject of discontent, I will with it close my present remarks : — A well-shaped horseshoe, as it hung against the wall in a blacksmith's shop, bitterly complained of the ill-usage to which it had been subjected. " No one," said the shoe, in a whining tone, "has en- dured the fiery trials through which I have passed, without any respite being allowed me. The hard- hearted sledge-hammer and anvil were my enemies, and between the two I was cruelly treated, and found no pity. I was beaten by them unmercifully, and the blows I received at their hands would have killed an ox; as I said before, no one has endured the fiery trials through which I have passed,'^ " Hold your foolish tongue," said a ploughshare, which had been sent to be repaired, "unless you can talk more wisely. Both you and I have been greatly benefited by the ordeal through which we have passed, and are valued highly by those who once might have despised us. Once, we were useless pieces of iron, but now you are a useful horseshoe and I am a respectable ploughshare." . Thus seasonably admonished, the horseshoe be- came silent, and was never afterwards heard to complain. OLD HUMPHREY AT HASTINGS. 185 We seldom commit a greater error than tliat of repining at our trials and afflictions, for our Hea- venly Father often renders these the medium of his greatest mercies. ''No chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, but grievous : nevertheless, afterward it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of righteous- ness unto them which are exercised thereby." The complaining horseshoe, though a fiction in the fable, is a fact when applied to mankind; for multitudes of repiners have become dumb when experience has proved the value of their bitterest trials. Fear the Lord, love him, and trust him, and then — If properly improved, thy grief, and pains. And heaviest losses, all wiU turn to gains; Hope, peace, and joy, from trouble will arise, To bless thee, and prepare thee for the skies. 16* 186 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. THE NiaHT-SEASON. When in the night I sleepless lie, My soul with heavenly thoughts supply. The season of night is a season of quiet, tran- quillity, and peace. The labourer has ceased his work, and the tradesman his traffic. The turmoil of the day is terminated, and the hubbub is over. No more is seen the smoking chimney and the hurrying throng. No longer is heard the clicking loom and the clanging hammer. The workshop, the counting-house, and the exchange, are closed. The stars light up the sky, the moon walks forth in her majesty, and man retires to his repose. The night-season pours its oil and balm into the wounds that we daily receive in the battle of life. The disappointed spirit becomes more reconciled, the ruffled temper is soothed, the angry fires that glow within us expire for want of fuel, and sleep robs us of our cherished animosities. These are among the manifold blessings that night bestows. The night-season is a necessary and pleasant break into the daily routine of our lives. It gives relief to the screwed-up energies of enterprise, and removes from the mind the weight of its re- THE NIGHT-SEASON. 187 sponsibilities. It affords an interval of repose^ an opportunity for tliouglitfulness, a pause for prepa- ration, and a breathing time in our wrestling with the world. The night-season is a season of mercy, conferred upon us by a merciful God for a merciful purpose. Then gentle sleep falls upon us, refreshing our wearied bodies, and effectually restoring the dis- turbed tranquillity of our minds. Then exhausted nature sinks into oblivious forgetfulness of pain and care, and e;ains streno-th for its future exertions. Gently do we lie down, and sweetly do we take our rest, for the Lord sustaineth us. Who is there that in his commerce with the world falls not into errors ? The sleepless hours of night are often profitably employed in a calm re- vision of the occurrences of the day. Haply we have spoken hasty words, done unkind deeds, failed in paying due respect, and neglected those who have a claim on our attention. With our heads on our pillows, and darkness around us, we can rectify our mistakes, recall our angry epithets, determine to pay respect to all, and resolve to make resti- tution. In the day we are exposed to many temptations from which in the night we are free. We retire, as it were, into our own hearts. We have no fawners to deceive us; no flatterers to praise us and make us think more highly of ourselves than 188 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. we ougtit to think. Conscience and truth speak, and will be heard. Truly the night-season is a suitable time to catechize ourselves. Whence came I ? Where am I ? and, Whither shall I go ? are, in the night-season, questions which sink into our souls. We have troubles that are known only to our- selves and to Him who knoweth all things; and in the night-season we spread them before the Lord. We supplicate his aid, feelingly, fervently, and vehemently, and make our vows unto him. We say, "■ Lord, if thou wilt give me the thing I desire," or, '^Lord, if thou wilt remove the thing that I fear, theti will I turn unto thee with full pur- pose of heart; then will I be thy servant forever." The night-season is 'often an humbling season, an outpouring season for the soul, a season of mourn- ing, of relief, of consolation and joy. We have most of us lost some that we have loved ; it may be a beloved son, in whom we have rejoiced, or a dear daughter, in whom we delighted, or both ; and in the night-season we commune with them in our minds. We remember them as they were, and indulge our aifections; we think of them as they are, and we stretch forward into an eternal world, rending the vail that separates us, and realize that day when we hope, nay, trust, again to be united to them. In the midst of our tearful re- miniscences we take heart: "I know that my Re- THE NIGHT-SEASON. 189 deemer livetli" comes to our relief, and the words, also, "I am the Resurrection and the Life; he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live; and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die :" John xi. 25, 26. True it is that in the night-season we have often strange dreams. We get into situations of danger and circumstances of overwhelming trouble. We appear to be so cast into the horrible pit and the miry clay that there is no hope for us. We are down, and we can never rise up again; but then, in the season of our extremity, we awake, and behold! it is a dream. The season of night defends us from so many evils, and confers upon us so many blessings, that we cannot be sufficiently grateful for so invaluable a gift. In that blessed world which is to come, it will not be required; there will be no night there- in the presence of the Lord there will be fulness of joy and pleasures for evermore. ''Blessing, and honour, and glory, and power, be unto Him that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb, forever and ever :" Eev. v. 13, 190 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. IS THERE A GOD? Now breathes the ruddy morn around Her health-restoring gales, And from the chambers of the east A flood of light prevails. Is there a God ? yon rising sun An answer meet supplies; Writes it in flame upon the earth, Proclaims it round the skies. The pendent clouds, that curtain round The sublunary ball, And firmament on high, declare A God that governs all. The warbling lark, in realms of air, Has triird her matin lay ; The balmy breeze of morn is fled — It is the noon of day. Is there a God ? hark ! from on high His thunder shakes the poles ; I hear his voice in every wind, In every wave that rolls. IS THERE A GOD ? 191 I read a record of his love, His wisdom, and his power. Inscribed on all created things — Man, beast, and herb, and flower. The sultry sun has left the skies. And day's delights are flown ; The owlet screams amid the shade, And niglit resumes her throne. Is there a God ? With sacred fear I upward turn mine eyes ; There is, each glittering lamp of light- There is ! my soul — replies. If such convictions to my brain His works alone impart. Oh, may the wisdom of his word Inscribe them on my heart ! That, while I ponder on his deeds. And read his truths divine, Nature may point me to a God, And grace may make him mine. 192 HOW DO YOU GET ON? " How do you get on ?" is a very commonplace inquiry ; we have all asked it and answered it again and again. But commonplace as is the question, it is an important one, and capable of a very ex- tended application. True it is that the phrase belongs more to low life than to the more refined circles of society ; yet is it not on this account to be passed by. He who would get wisdom must both climb and stoop to attain it, as the botanist gathers his plants from the highest hills and the lowest valleys. Most of us learn much more from low life than from high life — at least I do ; and for this simple reason — it is easier to get at. Where I speak once to a nobleman, I speak many times to a poor man ; and for every ride I have in a carriage-and-four, I have at least a hundred in an omnibus. " How do you get on ?" said a ruddy-faced man to one habited in a great-coat, whose cheeks were thin and pale. ^'Very slowly,'^ replied the invalid. "This ague that has laid hold of me has almost brought me to death's door. Last week I shook till my teeth chattered in my head, and yesterday I was in a high fever^ with hot skin, full pulse, furred HOW DO YOU GET ON ? Wi tongue, and a headache almost unbearable. My doctor says that if I do not get out of the house I now live in, all the medicine in the world will never keep me well, for that the marshy ground about it is enough to give the ague to anybody/' This conversation, taking place as it did in my hearing, set me thinking of the difficulty there was in getting health, and I pitied from my heart not only the man with the ague, but every son and daughter of Adam who had to pass through the furnace of affliction. The lesson, whether obtained from high or low life, that teaches us to feel for others, is worth learning. A wondrous thing it is, knowing as we all do that we have but a life-interest in this world, that we are not more anxious to secure a freehold in the world that is to come. " How do you get on ?" said a well-to-do sort of a man, seemingly in trade, to another, who appeared to be a tradesman too, but sadly under the weather. ^'Get on!'' replied he; ^^not at all; it is quite as much as I can do to keep on my legs. My prices are lower than they were, while all the materials I use are rising ; and then what do you think of coals being three pounds a ton ? I tell my wife to get ready with the children to move to a bigger house — the union workhouse ', and if things go on much longer as they do now, it may turn out to be no joke after all." I listened to the poor tradesman's account with ir 194 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. mucli sympathy, for it is a hard thing, with a wife and children, to look coming poverty in the face without shrinking, I was not sorry that his words had reached my ears, for they made me feel for all who were struggling to maintain their position in the world. Truly, a man had need to seek, through Christ, a home above the stars, seeing that there is so much trouble below them. ''How do you get on?" said one young man to another who was studying medicine and surgery at a London college. " Oh I it is no easy work to get on at all; for what with reading, attending to the patients, dissecting, and hearing lectures, I can hardly tell which way to look. General and structural anatomy, of themselves, to say nothing of medicine and chemistry, will take a lifetime fully to understand them. Why, there are in the human frame two hundred and forty-six bones, and we ought to be as much at home with them as with our old gloves. But what are these, compared with the muscles, veins, arteries, and other parts of the human frame? I heard a lecture yesterday that will set me thinking for a month. To tell the truth, I get on very slowly." Ay, thought I, it is up-hill work to acquire knowledge of any kind. What the student said made me think it was a sad pity that so much time should be wasted as there is in the world, when so much of it was needed to obtain knowledge. HOW DO YOU GET ON? 195 ^' How clo you get on ?" said one old man to another as tliey came out of a place of divine wor- ship together one Sabbath day. " Slow enough/' was the reply ; " but the gracious discourse we have heard is just the thing to quicken us both in running the race that is set before us. Blessed be God for the gift of his ministering servants, for, without them and his quickening grace, we should be more like crawling tortoises than harts panting for the water-brooks.^' The remark appeared to me to be only too true • it led me, however, to estimate God's ministers more highly, and to be more anxious for the quickening influences of the Holy Spirit. From all these instances we may gather the fact that it is not easy to gain health, wealth, or knowledge; and that we must be diligent to use the means, if we would make rapid progress in our heavenward course. Reader ! how do you get on with your health ? What with food, clothing, lodging, fuel, and medi- cine, these perishable bodies of our's cost us a pretty sum of money ; but it will only be for a time. How do you bear your bodily afflictions ? Some think too much of them : how is it with you ? "It may be,'' as that good man, Brooks, has it, "they are not great, if you look upon them with Scripture spectacles. Flesh and blood many times look upon mole-hills as mountains, and scratches upon the 196 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. hand as stabs at the heart; we make elephants of flies, and of little pigmies we frame giants. Carnal reason often looks upon troubles through false glasses. As there are some glasses that will make great things seem little, so there are others that will make little things seem great; and it may be that thou lookest upon thy afflictions through one of them. Look upon thy afflictions in the glass of the word ; look upon them in a Scripture dress, and then they will be found to be but little. He that shall look into a gospel-glass shall be able to say, ^ Heavy afflictions are light, long afflictions are short, bitter afflictions are sweet, and great afflic- tions are little.' It is good to make a judgment of your afflictions by a gospel light and by a gospel rule." How do you get on in your circumstances ? If you are rich, are you thankful ? If you are poor, are you humble, patient, and content with God's dealings with you? A gracious text is that in the sixth chapter of Timothy, and as true as it is gra- cious : ^' Godliness with contentment is great gain." Whatever we gain is God's gift, and, if we lose all, ^' is there not enough in God still ? Are his con- solations small ? The fountain is as full as ever." ^' Oh, the depths of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God ! how unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out!" Rom. HOW DO YOU GET ON? 197 How do yoii get on in the way of obtaining knowledge ? The way to be wise is this : seek after such knowledge and wisdom as is best worth attain- ing, and endeavour to possess yourself of it in the best way. Follow this rule, and with God's help you will not fail to be wise. '' The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom : a good understand- ing have all they that do his commandments :" Ps. cxi. 10. And now, how do you get on in your pilgrimage to the celestial city? This question is of more im- portance than all the rest put together. Never mind how much it may puzzle you; do your best to reply to it. If your answer be satisfactory, so much the better; and if not, it may set you on "re- deeming the time.'^ Of this be assured, that the health and strength of Samson, the riches of Tyre, Babylon, and Jerusalem, and the knowledge and wisdom of King Solomon, would be altogether worthless to you, unless, through God's grace and a saving faith in his Son Jesus Christ, your heart and your hope were set on heaven. Put the question, ''How do I get on?" to your- self under these several particulars ; answer it faith- fully, and then you will not regret my having put it to you. 198 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. THE WRECK. Clear was the sky and smooth the water, when, ou a beautiful day, I walked on the cliffs opposite the sea. For some time the wind had been unfa- vourable for outward-bound ships, but at last it had changed, and the whole surface of the deep appeared to be adorned with masts and sails. More than two hundred ships of various kinds were at once visible, each pursuing her way through the trackless waters to a distant shore. Freighted with men and merchandise, some of these were bound for Ireland, some for France, some for America, some for the East and West Indies, some for golden Australia, and some for China. I watched them with no common attention. '^Fair breezes and God's blessing !" said I, as they proceeded on their several courses. It was a sight to be remembered. Crowds from the parades, the sea-beach, and the Downs above the cliffs, were gazing on the glowing scene. Hope, with sparkling eyes, was present, cheer- fulness was abroad, and joy was keeping holiday. Not many days had passed, when from the same place was witnessed a different scene. It was high water, and the sea was exceedingly rough. The crew of a schooner which had just discharged her cargo did their best to get her off. All was done THE WRECK. 199 by tliem that men could do, but all was in vaiu; foi the strain upon the vessel was so severe that the moorings were pulled up and the shore-tackle broken. She soon broached to, and drove on to leeward with the sea breaking furiously over her. It was a sad sight to gaze on, when, in the season of their extremity, the captain and crew were dragged by ropes through the surf to land, the wind howling, the waters roaring, and the schooner driven against the sea-wall, heavily beating and pounding the shingle with her hull. Her keel could cleave the deep no more, For the waves had beat and bound her ; And she lay a wreck on the shingly shore. With the white foam raging round her. Not long could the vessel hold together, for she was fir-built, old, and crazy. While the anxious and excited spectators that crowded the shore looked on, she split right across the middle, her masts falling and her timbers parting asunder. As I stood gazing alone the following day on the part of the hull that remained on the beach, my attention arrested by the bulged bows, the broken bulwarks, and the shivered timbers partly buried in the shingle, the tide washed against it with great force, sometimes nearly breaking over it, as though the raging deep would not give up its prey so long as a rib or spar remained visible. "Be satisfied," said I, addressing the roaring ocean. "Have you not done mischief enough? — 200 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. must your voracious and insatiable maw devour the last plauk of the vessel you have destroyed ?" But the only reply that I obtained was a splash in the face from the next wave that broke against the wreck. It just suited one of my disposition to muse on the shore above the broken hull whose ribs had been crushed, and whose bowsprit was deep bedded in the sea soil; for, while I was there, children came playfully to peep at the spectacle, well-dressed visitors took a hasty survey, and departed, and aged men stood a while with serious faces at the spot. I guessed their thoughts by my own. They could not choose but think of Him who alone can control the wind and the waves. '^ The sea is his, and he made it : and his hands formed the dry land :" Ps. xcv. 5. ** Guide us, heavenly Pilot, guide us, Till the storms of life shall cease ; From the raging tempest hide us ; Bring us to the port of peace." Such as live upon the coast, and are accustomed to witness shipwrecks, regard them with less emotion than strangers experience y^hen gazing upon them. To me the scene was full of awful interest^ pressing on my mind various considerations, such as the mighty power of ocean waves, the great danger to which mariners are exposed, the sympathy we ought to feel for them, and the necessity that they, and we, and all God's intelligent creatures, should ever be looking to Him in whom alone we "live and move and have our being.'^ THE WRECK. 201 But the wreck of a vessel may suggest to our minds also the wreck of a soul ; for many a soul that appeared to set out like a ship oo a prosperous voyage has been wrecked, forever wrecked, not in a storm, but in a calm ; not when darkness prevailed, and the hurricanes of the earth were raging, but when all was tranquil and sunbeams were shining around. When a ship is wrecked, there is sometimes hope of escape. Some friendly sail may opportunely heave in sight; the broken hull, dismantled and dismasted, may yet bear up against the storm ; or the crew, in the crisis of their danger, some by swimming, some on boards, and some on broken pieces of the ship, may get safe to land ; but the wreck of the soul is nothing less than helpless, endless, irrevocable ruin. No wreck, where angry Ocean's billows roll, Is like the wreck and ruin of a soul. It was long before I left the beach; and when I did so the ocean waves were still dashing against the stranded hull of the broken vessel, fastened as it was to the shore with a chain cable. Sobered and solemnized by the mournful spectacle, I walked away in musing meditation. '' What is man, unless preserved by his Almighty Maker ? At sea and on land he is in equal danger. Be thou my stay, Lord, in every storm, that my faith may not suffer shipwreck. Give me grace so to love and trust thee That my soul in her need, when the tempest is nigh, May escape 'to the Rock that is higher than I.'" 202 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. WHAT ARE YOUR POINTS? It has been said that every man has a "■ strong corner/' the meaning of which expression is, that every man has a particular point or quality which in some degree distinguishes him from others, or that he has a hidden strength which circumstances alone make manifest. Whether this be true or not generally, it certainly is occasionally so in individual cases. The different points or prominent qualities among mankind are well worthy of our best attention, that we may emulate the good and avoid the evil. The humble and teachable pick up many a lesson that the proud and opinionated pass by or despise. One man has faith, so that he looks up to his Heavenly Father with such unbroken and unshaken trust, that, come what will, he is never stricken down. One is stopped in his course by mole-hills 3 another will remove mountains of difficulty, and never so much as doubt the attainment of his object. He seems to take as his motto the text, " The Lord God will help me; therefore shall I not' be con- founded : therefore have I set my face like a flint, and I know that I shall not be ashamed :" Isa. 1. 7. Faith is the gift of God, and a precious gift it is; WHAT ARE YOUR POINTS? 203 wortli praying for, watching for, and striving for. Do you possess it? Is it one of your points? If so, bappy are you. Another has hope in a very unusual degree, both in temporal and eternal things. He looks on the bright side of every event, and sees an oasis in every desert and a glittering star in the blackest sky. Not only is he hopeful himself, but he makes others so. When he appears, his eye is lit up with animation; and when he speaks, his words are full of encourage- ment. ^'The darkest night has a day;'^ ''Many a broken ship gets safe to land;'' "Give it up? no, never!" "Hope on to the end!" are words that are continually on his lips. He reminds his desponding Christian friends of the unchangeableness of the Saviour's love, and exhorts them not to fear the threatening storm. *'Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take; The clouds ye so much dread Are big with mercy, and shall break In blessings on your head." In this way he encourages other hearts and strengthens his own. While his desponding neigh- bours deplore the winter, he anticipates the summer; and when they look mournfully on the west, where the sun is setting to-night, he points cheerfully to the east, where it will rise to-morrow. If hope is not among your points, seek it with all your soul. 204 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. A third possesses charitj^, or Cliristian love, that, mingliug with his thoughts, his words, and his deeds, ^'hopeth all things'' and " endureth all things." This is an excellent point, indeed, and as rare as it is excellent and inestimable. ^'I am afraid that he is a faulty one," said a clergymen of a notorious offender; "but as I have some bad qualities which you have never seen, so he may have some good ones that you have never discovered." Well is it said of faith, hope, and charity, or love, that "the greatest of these is charity." To know our points and to turn them to advan- tage, is true wisdom; to mistake them, and to un- dertake what we are not equal to perform, is great folly. But if "every man has a strong corner/' may it not be said, with equal truth, that "everyone has his weak side ?" The illustrations which might be advanced to prove the latter remark would greatly outnumber those that support the former observa- tion. There are bad points as well as good ones. One man is proud and vain, not considering that " a man's pride shall bring him low." This point of his character he shows in his mien and his man- ner, his look and his language. He walks haughtily, speaks in a dictatorial way, and gives himself all manner of airs in his silly conceit. Pride and vanity puff up many a heart. A proud man, like a fish, is easily caught, if the bait is suited to his taste. WHAT ARE YOUR POINTS? 205 •^If/^ said an old fisherman, "I wanted to catcli one simpleton, I would liook him with a bribe; if I wished to catch twenty, I would net them with promises; but if I desired to catch a hundred, I would poison them with flattery." If pride is one of your points, the sooner you get rid of it the better. Another is deceitful, so that you are never safe with him. He plays different parts at different times; to-day he is a friend and to-morrow an enemy. His language before your face and behind your back never agree; the one is all fur, and the other all talon. ^'The words of his mouth are smoother than butter, but war is in his heart; his words are softer than oil, yet are they drawn swords." There is something so mean and pitiful in deceit, that it deserves to be shot at as a target and ex- posed to general ridicule. A third is selfish. He is a perfect "1, by itself, I," all the centre of his own circle. Selfishness is as a blot on his brow, palpably visible to all, though unseen by himself. The apparent kindness of a selfish man is interested, and his seeming generosity is only " throwing a crab to catch an apple." Of all human failings, selfishness is one of the most common, and, when carried to extreme, one of the most hateful. The poor may suffer, but the selfish man heeds it not; the houseless may shiver, but he wraps himself up in his own blanket and is at ease; 18 206 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. the hungry may perish, hut what matters that ? h« has enough and to spare. This is one form of self- ishness; but it has others that cannot be counted. Are you selfish ? Unnumber'd grateful tongues sliall bless That heart, where'er it goes, That kindles at another's joy And weeps for others' woes. In reviewing your qualities, remember that one good and useful point is worth more than a hundred that are neither good nor useful. We read in that instructive fable, ''The Fox and the Cat/' that, though the cat had but one point, it enabled her, on approach of the hounds, to run up a tree and to get out of danger, while the fox, with all his cun- ning and his thousand points, was overtaken by the dogs and torn to pieces. Bear in mind that a little Christian principle is better than much worldly shrewdness; and that faith, hope, and charity, will impart a thousand times more peace and joy than pride, deceit, and selfishness. Once more, what are your points ? If they are good, encourage them; call them out, and bring them into full practice, that they may be as mar- row to your bones ; but if they are evil, pray against them, strive against them, and abandon them, lest they soil your garments, dim your hope, oppress your heart, and bring you to dishonour. OLD HUMPHREY ON BIRTHDAYS. 207 OLD HUMPHREY ON BIRTHDAYS. Now is mj time to write on this subject, if I mean ever to write upon it at all ; for it is my birth- day, and my gray hairs tell me there must needs be some uncertainty as to its return. An hour ago the postman gave his spirited double rap, and my table is tolerably well covered with letters and packages, the winged messengers of friendship and the kind offerings of affection. Every reader must have some interest in his own birthday and in that of his friends ; I will try, then, to be suitable in my remarks, and to teach both the merry and the mournful-hearted. A birthday in youth and prime is usually a sun- shiny season ; but as the sun of life declines the re- turning period brings with it more earnest thought and more serious feeling. An old man can hardly avoid looking before and behind him; and thus, while young people, on their birthdays, with their faces lit up with smiles, think only of the present, the aged, on such occasions, with graver counte- nances, reflect on the past and the future. This is as it should be. Age may be cheerful and yet thoughtful j and not to be the latter would supply a 208 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. much more reasonable cause of regret than not being the former. A birthday is oftentimes a harvest-day of affec- tionate remembrances and tokens of good- will. Would that on this day I could give to others half the gratification that others have given me ! How kindly do I feel towards my several correspondents, whose communications are full of free-hearted de- sires for my welfare ! Wishing me happy hours in endless store, True friends, good health, all honour; nay, yet more, — That heaven-lit hope and God-descended peace Which still remains when all things earthly cease. Birthdays include all days in the calendar, for there is not one in the revolving year that is not a high-day and a holiday to some rejoicing heart, or a day of mournful recollection to some sorrowful spirit, as the birthday of one estimated and loved. Parents exult in the birthdays of their children, and children in those of their parents. A fond mother remembers with tears that it is the natal day of a son who is abroad, perhaps tossing on the billowy deep, or settled in some distant locality; and an affectionate father calls to mind, with a sob which he vainly tries to suppress, that it is the birthday of a dear daughter in heaven, — a day which, though now shrouded with gloom, used to be kept with festivity and rejoicing. Our birthdays while we are here will be remembered by ourselves, and OLD HUMPHREY ON BIRTHDAYS. 209 perhaps wlien we are gone they will be borne in mind by others. Who is there that has not^ on many occasions, wished that he could soar towards the firmament and look down on the manifold pursuits and occu- pations of mankind ? Could I now see the yearly jubilee of others' birthdays, what a chequered scene would be spread out before me ! Hundreds who win their bread by daily toil are too much occupied in the hard, every-day duties and cares of life to think much of their birthdays; while others are altogether absorbed by the return of a season which brings to them so much of pleasure. Just now I see in my fancy what I have often seen in reality, (and few who have witnessed it are likely to forget it,) the bright, beamiug, bustling birthday of the sovereign, as it used to manifest itself at the general post-office, when mail-coaches, instead .of mail-carts, were in fashion. A life, a cheerfulness, a merriment, prevailed around, and the ^'birthday" was visible in every face. The pro- cession with horses in new harness and gay riband rosettes, the coachmen and guards in their flaring red coats, and the postmen riding before, made London alive. St. Martin's-le-Grand, Cheapside, St. Paul's Churchyard, Ludgate-hill, Fleet street, the Strand, and Parliament street, seemed to be keeping holiday. And then it was an animating sight, when the busy crowd assembled at night, to 18* 210 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. see the mails take their departure, piled up with leathern bags, the guards, armed with their blunder- busses, strapping them firmly together. As one says, ^^ There go the Plymouth and Canterbury coaches up the street, and there go the York, the Birmingham, and the Holyhead, down the street, with a dozen others, hurrying and driving along in different directions; coachmen and guards in their red coats, whips cracking, horses prancing, wheels clattering, horns blowing, and mail-coaches and mail-carts rattling over the stones — one of the noisiest, the busiest, and the most cheerful sights in all London." * And now rises in my memory a birthday scene, in which a rosy band of cottage children were the happy actors. It was in a dreamy nook — a worn- out quarry, sheltered from the hot sunbeams; a peaceful place, garlanded with woodbines and hang- ing plants, and where all day long were to be heard the hum of bees and songs of joyous birds. Around it grew straggling brambles laden with blackberries. There, grouped together, the happy- hearted children enjoyed their mimic feast, their acorn cups before them. Just as I looked down upon them from the high banks above, a sister wreathed her arms about the neck of her chubby- cheeked little brother. Amid many fair things, those children were the fairest. Love reigned amons; them, and the kiss went round. It was a OLD HUMPHREY- ON BIRTHDAYS. 211 gladdening sight, for that cliildisli revel had in it a more real pleasure, A joy more sweet, and innocent, and pure, Than wealth can buy, or festive halls secure. Pleasant it is to see a bright, sparkling, lovable being, just mingling the girl with the woman, pre- paring her plans and marshalling her friends for her coming birthday. If she be a little interested in the new dress in which she is to appear, call it not by the ugly name of vanity. If for a season her heart is occupied in the varied amusements in which her guests are to engage, think her not of necessity either trifling or worldly-minded. It is an accredited season of rejoicing — a privileged holiday. We of the gray hair are not to mould the world after our own antiquated fashion; we are not to knit our brows and truss up the bodies and souls of the young with our own fancied forms of pro- priety; but rather, remembering our youthful days, to allow elbow-room for the more buoyant emotions of those who are younger than ourselves. Play, throbbing pulse ; beat, happy heart ; and a blessing light on the hours of your recreation ! Young men and maidens, rejoice in the season of your youth; but never may your buoyant birthdays unfit you for the graver duties of life, or hinder you in your way to heaven. Sometimes a birthday finds us recovering from an illness that has pulled down our strength and 212 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. blanched our cheeks. How delightful in such a case, weaned with the fever-laden atmosphere of a sick-chamber, from the opened casement to breathe the morning air, to look forth with strange delight, and then to wander abroad ! Grateful to our senses are the commonest sights and sounds; how pleasant is the sunbeam, how balmy the breeze, how sweet the music of the birds ! Our upturned eyes are moist with grateful tears. It is our birth- day; again we are come forth to mingle with a bright and joyous world, and our hearts are filled with thankfulness and our mouths with praise. As I before intimated, aged people, even though of cheerful disposition, have shadowy thoughts on their birthdays. They find themselves a year or two older than they had imagined, and look grave at the discovery. While noting down these re- marks, I cannot choose but talk a little to myself. " And now, my soul, another year Of thy short life is past ; Thou canst not long continue here, And this may be thy last/' is very suitable language for my lip and my heart. I have one friend who has reached her ninety- third year ; but how many have I had who were beckoned away to another world before they had reached my age ! Few and far between are the friends of my earlier days, and those who have been called away greatly outnumber those that remain. OLD HUMPHREY ON BIRTHDAYS. 213 Would fhat every one had always a happy birth- day, and that the dwelling-places of those who sit at the desk, labour at the loom, work in the mine, or wield the hammer, the saw, or the file, rung with grateful joy and light-hearted merriment ! Would that on such occasions there was every cause for congratulation and rejoicing, and none for regret and lamentation ! "It is," says one, " a poor heart th-at never rejoices/' and when is there a fitter season to rejoice than on the return of that day when we . came into this breathing world, to help each other gratefully to enjoy, patiently to endure, and to do His holy will who has crowned us with tender mercies and loving-kindnesses ? Birthdays are mostly kept by the happy-hearted, for little are they recked of by those who have poverty and pain, sickness and sorrow, in their habitations. To the outcasts of the world, the re- turn of the day of their birth must be rather an affliction than a source of joy. The ruined spend- thrift, the prisoner, and the felon, cannot but say in their hearts, " Oh that it were with me as in days that are past !" Yes, the unhappy set but little store by their birthdays, and would rather blot them out than remember them. Poor Job thought lightly enough of his, when his sons and his daughters were destroyed, his camels, asses, sheep, and oxen taken away, and his body so changed by sickness that his very friends did not 214 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. know liim. What a mockery it would have been, in the depth of his destitution and darkness, to have paid him the compliment of wishing him "many happy returns!'' What a keen and bitter susceptibility must he have had of his desolate con- dition, when he thus spoke of his birthday ! — " Let the day perish wherein I was born, and the night in which it was said. There is a man child con- ceived. Let that day be darkness; let not God re- gard it from above. As for that night, let dark- ness seize upon it; let it not be joined unto the days of the year. Lo, let that night be solitary, let no joyful voice come therein. Let them curse it that curse the day, who are ready to raise up their mourning." I know not whether Job's birth- day came round while he was in this trouble, but if so, it must have been a day of darkness. It becomes us not, however, to despond in the hour of calamity j rather should we remember that it is as light a thing with God to lift up as to pull down ; for of this same Job it is said that the Lord blessed his latter end more than his beginning. I must now bring my remarks to a close. We all like to be esteemed by those we respect, and none of us have any objection to be remembered on our birthdays by those who have a niche in our hearts ; and whether the symbol of their affection or friend- ship assume the shape of a page of prose, a verse of poetry, an etching, a book-marker, a simple OLD HUMPHREY ON BIRTHDAYS. 215 flower, or any other form, it is invested with the value that kindness always confers. Reader, what is the date of your birth ? Have you ever made inquiry whether any good man came into the world or went out of it on that day, that you might have some one to imitate ? or whether any bad man was born or died on that day, that you might shun his evil deeds ? Have you given yourself the trouble to ascertain whether any event has ever occurred on that day calculated to awaken your wonder, increase your piety, or call forth your thankfulness ? What a reproach to any one it must be to be born on the same date as Beveridge, Baxter, Watts, or Wesley, and yet be ungodly ! or on the birthdciy of a How- ard, a Wilberforce, or a Fry, and be hard-hearted and cruel ! There are many ways of turning a birthday to account ; and, if no better method should occur to you, adopt at once the following advice of Old Humphrey, putting it in practice on your very next birthday. Enjoy the present, think on the past, and prepare for the future. Call to mind your mercies, encourage thankfulness of heart, forgive such as have offended you, and try to make some aching heart happy. Hardly can I express a better wish for you than that which a kind corre- spondent has expressed for me : — "Many happy returns of the day of thy birth, Many seasons of sunshine be given; And may God, in his mercy, prepare thee on earth For a birthday of glory in heaven I" 216 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. OLD HUMPHREY TO HIS HONOURED ANCIENT, ON HER NINETIETH BIRTHDAY. January 16, 1851. Hail ! honoured Ancient ! Once again I take in hand this votive pen, To briefly pour, as best I may, A stanza on your natal day. With ?W6, the changing scenes that fly Are as they were in times gone by : The earth is green, the heavens are blue : How is it, honoured friend, with you ? Not that I walk in pathways fair, And feel no pain, and know no care ; My share have I of shade and smart. But then the sunshine in my heart Lights up the things my eyes behold. And turns the seeming dross to gold. Such is, in truth, my onward view : How is it, honoured friend, with you ? Amid the flitting seasons past, The summer breeze, and autumn blast, How have you borne the chequered strife That marks this fitful, feverish life '\ TO HIS HONOURED ANCIENT. 217 Has God illumed with light your ways, And given you tranquil nights and days? His hand has held me hitherto : How is it, honoured friend, with tjou? Say, does the Lord of life and love Look down upon you from above. And soothe your grief, and dry your tears, And dissipate your rising fears ? Does He his sovereign grace impart, To cheer with hope your fainting heart ? /find Him faithful, kind, and true: How is it, honoured friend, with you ? Will He, whose love has bless'd your brow For ninety years, forsake you now? No, never ! His Almighty power Will guard and guide you every hour. My hope is strong that He will spread A heavenly glory round your head. His gifts to me are like the dew : How is it, honoured friend, with you ? This prayer I fyeely would impart. The incense of a loving heart, That peaceful seasons may arise, And smooth your pathway to the skies. Be your's with thankfulness to trace A Saviour's all-abounding grace. With me his praise is ever new : Thus be it, honoured friend, with you I 19 218 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. OLD HUMPHREY ON MITIGATIONS. A GOOD and pleasant subject is a great advantage to an author. When he has to tell his reader un- welcome truths, and to oppose his opinions and his prejudices, it is sad up-hill work; but when, in a kind-hearted spirit, he hits on a subject in which he can take his reader with him, willing to be pleased or profited, it is like going down a gentle slope — all ease and effortless. Down such a slope would I now go, discoursing on the subject of mitigations. The great lexicographer tells us that a mitigation is an "abatement of anything penal, harsh, or painful." I shall apply the word as a reliever or lessener of the mental and bodily afflictions to which humanity is liable. A letter from a friend,* which now lies before me, has drawn my thoughts to this subject. Would that I could do it justice ! Would that I could comfort the hearts of a thou- sand afflicted ones, by opening their eyes to discern the manifold mitigations which surround them ! One part of the letter runs thus : — " Since I have been a cripple, I have become * The late Mr. W. F. Lloyd. OLD HUMPHREY ON* MITIGATIONS. 219 wondrously leg-wise, leg-considerate, and leg-sympa- thizino;. This is one of the collateral advantao-es of lameness; but now for the mitigations. Old Hum- phrey must write a paper on this subject. I have derived much alleviation from acute pains from the electric chain. I get good spring- water, and take it freely at night; and twice in that season I take a cup of cocoa, having a fire in my bed-room all night. I have bought a pony phaeton, so that I can ride out daily and get fresh air. Now, if you cannot make a good paper on this subject, I shall think it your own fault, and perhaps give you an unmiti- gated admonition." Though my good friend has, in this part of his letter, confined himself to a few only of the things that minister to his comfort, in another part he alludes to other sources of relief, and among them to the kind hearts by which he is surrounded. So far from quailing at his conditional threat, I am hopefully looking forward to a ride with him in his pony phaeton, fearless of his "unmitigated ad- monition." Kightly considered, the subject of mitigations is a very consolatory one. In the days of my child- hood, I was once much interested in listening to the remarks of an American. " Our country," said he, "is much infested with poisonous reptiles, but we are not without our mitigations ; for where rattle- ijuakes abounjd; rattlesnake herb grows, so that when 220 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. bitten by the snake we cliew the herb and are healed." This struck me at the time as a very- merciful provision ; but I need not pause to inquire into the truth of the allegation, having a much surer declaration in the Holy Scriptures of the merciful mitigations of our Heavenly Father : — ^'Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and he shall sustain thee." — " He stayeth his rough wind in the day of the east wind." — "No chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, but grievous : nevertheless, afterward it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of righteousness unto them which are exer- cised thereby." Forty years ago I knew a friend who was then in the full possession of all her faculties. She was wedded to one of the worthy of the world, who, sometimes, when giving a lecture on geology to his friends, would playfully observe, in allusion to his partner, who was from Cornwall, that though the specimens of British gems on the table were not without their value, he had in his possession a Cornish diamond of much greater value than they all. When I called upon her a few weeks ago, I found her quite blind ; but she was not without her mitigations. She had learned to read her Bible in raised letters with her finger ; she was looking for- ward to a glorious abode, where the Lord would be ,her light, and her Grod her glory; and she sweetly observed to me, in a spirit of thankfulness, and not OLD HUMPHREY ON MITIGATIONS. 221 of repining, ''At my time of life, you know, ttis affliction cannot be a long one." This is tlie way to meet our trials, to ameliorate our afflictions, to get all the comfort we can from our mitigations, and to make the best of our position. Soon after this interview, I visited the chamber of one whom for five-and-thirty years I had known as a trusty and faithful domestic. Heavily afflicted with cancer, she was, as she believed, on the very verge of an eternal world, but she was not without her mitigations ; she had kind friends and necessary comforts ; she was perfectly resigned to the righteous will of her Heavenly Father, and looked alone, as a sinner, for salvation to the " Lamb of God, that taketh away the sin of the world." I left her, saying to myself, " When the waves of Jordan rise around me, may my feet also be found on the ' Rock of Ages,' and my heart be fixed where alone true joys are to be found !" It was but yesterday that an account was related to me, by an eye-witness, of an affecting interview between two females ; the one being blind, and the other deaf and dumb. The latter was introduced to the former as one who had never heard a sound; neither music, nor the melody of birds, nor the voice of affection, nor the words of holy writ, had ever entered her ear. The blind listener to this account lifted up her hands in thankfulness and unfeigned sympathy, saying, "I have heard all 19» OLD HUMPHREY S PORTFOLIO. these sounds/ 's and then deeply bewailed the sor- rows of her more afflicted sister. But now, she that was deaf and dumb, shaking with emotion, (for her eyes had been fixed on the lips of the blind speaker, reading the meaning of her words,) in her turn declared, with thankfulness, speaking with her fingers, that her affliction was not half so heavy as was supposed. ''If,'' said she, ''I have heard no sounds, I have been mercifully kept from the evil and impurity of a deceitful tongue." Thus did these afflicted ones diminish their trials by dwelling on their mitigations. Being ''born to trouble as the sparks fly upward," afflictions must and will come to us all; it becomes us all, then, to look to our mitigations. I take it for granted, reader, that you have some open or secret cause of sorrow ; some hope that you cannot attain; some fear that you cannot avoid; or some care that it is difficult to endure. My advice is, whether your" affliction be a light one or a heavy one, the head-ache or the heart-ache, a fractured limb or a wounded spirit, a sufi'ering body or a desponding soul, look to your mitigations. Be assured we are sadly overrating our burdens, and underrating our benefits, if we cannot say, Thougli round us a shower of afflictions may fall. Our manifold mercies outnumber them all. The patriarch Job sets us an excellent example OLD HUMPHREY ON MITIGATIONS. 223 of falling back on our mitigations^ for he seems to have kept a sort of debtor and creditor account, not only of the present, but of the past. He looks not at a part of God's dealings with him, but at the whole, and exclaims, ^' What ! shall we receive good at the hands of God, and not receive evil V Are we doing as Job did — thankfully remembering our past mercies, and setting them against our present trials ? This, whether we adopt it or not, is a wise course, an upright course, and the only course we ought to pursue. Neither past mercies, present mercies, nor future mercies, should be forgotten in the long list of our mitigations ; nor should we think lightly of newly- discovered alleviations, professional skill, medicine suited to our case, kind ministerial aid, the visits of affection and friendship, the gentle voice that soothes our griefs and the kind hand that smooths our pillow. When our trials are sharp, it is a com- fort to know that they will be short, and, let the worst come to the worst, we can look beyond them. But, after all, our best mitigators will ever be God's word, God's promises, and God's presence. Having these, in all our weakness we may wage war with every trouble, whether it be care, poverty, sickness, pain, or death. Men, brethren, kindreds, people, tongues, and nations, Count up your mercies and your mitigations. 224 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH YOU AKE WORTH ? I ONCE heard of a man — nay, lie was well known to me — of whom it was said, he was so rich that he knew not the amount of his wealth. Embarrassing as such a situation may be, it is the very position in which I now find myself. Yes, it is a truth, that, put down what I may, and calculate as I will, I do not know the full amount of my pos- sessions. Many men have larger estates than I have, and greater houses, and more money in the bank, and then they keep their carriages; but this does not signify. Large estates are not possessed without anxiety; I never buy them. Great houses are seldom inhabited without great cares; I never live in one. I can take care of all my money without troubling the bank to do it for me ; and I have good and sufficient reasons of my own for not keeping my carriage. If, reader, God has given you a grateful heart, and enabled you, in any measure, having food and raiment to be therewith content, HOW MUCH ARE YOU WORTH? 225 bear with me a little in my light-liearted remarks, and give me credit for some end and object in making them. Haply they may be the not inap- propriate precursors of more weighty observations, convincing you that you are really richer than you suppose. When I see, as I sometimes do, the iron chests and tin boxes of those who have title-deeds, securi- ties, and other representatives of property in their possession, I say to myself, ^'What a comfort it is to me that my title-deeds require neither tin boxes nor iron chests !" And if I see at the bank, when I happen to be there, which is a rare occurrence, a man pulling out of his breast-pocket a huge leathern pocket-book, bulging out with bank notes of different kinds, I again indulge in my pleasantry, thinking to myself, " Who would carry about with him such a huge, lumbering, unwieldy book as that? why, I can contrive to carry my notes in a much narrower compass.'^ No small mercy it is, when regarding those who are better off than ourselves, to be kept from envying our neighbours. It is not quite a week since a friend kindly took me a drive for an hour or two in Hyde Park, at a time when ^'all the fashionable world" was said to be there; and truly if fine horses, fine coaches, fine footmen, and fine people can properly be considered a fair manifestation of the fashionable world, it might be said, on that occasion, to have been very 226 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. fairly represented. Reclining in tlieir several vehicles, Eank, beauty, wit, and wealth, lolled at their ease, And looked around, and drank the freshening breeze. Accustomed as I am to common scenes, and com- panionizing as I do with less elevated people, I can- not meet with a duke on horseback followed by a groom much better mounted than himself, — a duchess showy as a full-blown peony, reclining in an open coronetted carriage, drawn by four beautiful grays, — a lord in his Stanhope in easy chat with a popular baronet, and a lady and her lapdog in a well-cush- ioned coach with bay horses and bright harness, — I cannot, I say, meet such personages, with a crowd of others of similar station, without regarding them (not rudely, I hope) with much interest and curi- osity. This was the case with me on the occasion to which I refer. It was no small part of my gratification to be able to see so many possessors of greatness and grandeur without wishing to exchange positions with them, and without envying the wealthiest among them. Willingly, had I possessed the power, would I have made them all ten times happier than they were. It suddenly struck me that the park was a public park, and that I, as one of the public, was one of its proprietors ; nor did I know that any duke, duchess, lord, baronet, or lady in London had a better title to HOW MUCH ARE YOU WORTH? 227 it than myself. I could walk, ride, and drive in it as often as I chose, and see the assembled throng there, and partake their gratification, whenever I thought proper. ^^ From this time forth," said I, '■'■ my share in the park must be regarded by me as a part of my property/' What a defence against peevishness and repining, ^^ envy, hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness," is a contented and grateful spirit ! Where God has given it, he has given a treasure which we cannot too often acknowledge. Truly, '^ Godliness with contentment is great gain :" 1 Tim. vi.*6. The steward of a very wealthy squire (who was then on a sick bed, paralyzed and in pain, with little hope of ever rising from it) some time since took me over the estate on a fine, windy, sunshiny day. He told me the names of the farmers; he pointed to the hills and the valleys, the meadows, and the running brooks, and said that they all belonged to the squire. " Belong to him, poor man !'' thought I; ^' they belong a great deal more to me than to him; for I can see them, ramble among them, and enjoy them, while he can do neither the one nor the other. It seems that I am a rich man, after all. jMany things are common to all God's creatures, like the balmy air and the glowing sunshine. The breezes blow, the warblers sing, For every living, breathing thing ; And every bush, and every tree. Puts forth its leaves and buds for me." 228 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. Now was I not justified, taking into consideration my enjoyment and tlie lamentable condition of the wealthy squire, in thinking that my share in his estate was greater than his own ? Oh that we were more alive than we are to the goodness of our Heavenly Father, and more ready to acknowledge the benefits received at his hands ! It is not long since I walked through a picture- gallery, rich in the productions of the old masters. I am fond of paintings, and really revelled in them. Among other pictures were some by the wonder- working pencils of Raffaelle, Carracci, and Domeni- chino, Panini, Poussin, and Parmigiano, Titian, Rubens, Guido, and Leonardo da Vinci. But who was the owner of these costly specimens of art, these happy and surprising efforts of human genius? Alas! one who could derive little or no pleasure from the possession of them, for he was blind. But though he had lost his sight, God had mercifully preserved me from the like affliction. Now, I have a real interest in these paintings, ten times greater than that of their proprietor, because I can visit them again and again with increased pleasure. My property in this picture-gallery, then, may fairly be added to my other possessions. Often have I said it, and once more will I say it now, that a thankful heart will always have some- thing to be thankful for. I had lingered two or three hours in the sump- HOW MUCH ARE YOU WORTH? 229 tuous apartments and beautiful pleasure-grounds of a stately castle, before I put the question, "And where is the noble owner of this goodly pile ?" The answer was, "He is a fugitive beyond the seas. In- volved in debts from which it will take him years of thrift to extricate himself, he is a banished man, and cannot set his foot on the threshold of his own inheritance/' The ruined spendthrift left his native land, A wandering outcast on a foreign strand. Here, then, while its owner was an exile, the castle ministered to my pleasure. I visited its noble hall, its state-rooms, and its armory; I mounted its ramparts and turrets, and roamed over its lawns, swept as they were by the descending branches of towering cedars. For the time being, the edifice was as much mine, for all purposes of enjoyment, as if it had descended to me in a straight line of an- cestry from the days of William the Conqueror; and, as I may yet go again and again to that goodly for- tress, hardly shall I make a false entry by putting down my facilities of visiting it as an additional item to the sum of my possessions. I have thus attempted to show that a sunny spirit gilds all things around it, and that content and thankfulness, which are God's gifts, enable us in a thousand ways to get good and to defend ourselves from evil. The castle and the estate of the squire, 20 230 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. the park and the picture-gallery, are only specimens of unnumbered instances in which I find myself a gainer. I feel that T have a vested interest in all things that increase my comfort and my pleasure. The busy scenes of the city and ruralities of the country, the beauties of the land and the sublimity of the mighty deep, are all open to me, and all, therefore, form a part of my worldly store. If, then, I put my spiritual mercies to my temporal blessings, not forgetting the Bible, the house of God, a throne of grace, and the hope of glory through the abundant merits and mercy of Jesus Christ, well may I say, with emotions of thankfulness and joy, ^'1 really know not how much I am worth; I cannot tell the amount of my possessions." Christian reader, if God has given you a measure of content and thankfulness, you may approve my remarks; but if otherwise, I fear you will regard them as fanciful and foolish. Consider, however, how different the same landscape is when seen on a sunshiny day to what it appears in gloomy weather. Depend upon it, bright as the sun is, and gloriously as he lights up the earth and the heavens, he is not more influential than content and thankfulness are in gilding the gifts of our Heavenly Father. A quick-sightedness to perceive and a grateful heart to feel and acknowledge divine favours, are beyond price. Oh, pray for a grateful heart. He that sees neither the flowers of earth beneath HOW MUCH ARE YOU WORTH? 231 his feet, nor the stars of heaven above his head, with joy, is in pitiable case. Open your eye and your heart, or rather ask Grod to open them, that you may see him as he is, the friend of sinners, and the bountiful bestower of all things; then praise will have its way, breaking forth from the lip in the language of the psalmist, "Bless the Lord, my soul; and all that is within me, bless his holy name. Bless the Lord, my soul; and forget not all his benefits:" Ps. ciii. 1, 2. "Oh that men would praise the Lord for his goodness, and for his won- derful works to the children of men :" Ps. cvii. 15. Take heed to this my closing remark. If once you are enabled rightly to regard every earthly gift as the gift of God, and obtain only a glimpse of the exceeding riches of his grace in his kindness towards us through Christ Jesus, you will neither know how rich you are, nor be able to express, even to your own heart, one-half the amount of your possessions. 232 ANTICIPATION OF HEAVEN. I SEE within a temple bright The shining ones appear, In sparkling robes of living light And crystal raiment clear ; And some upon the threshold stand, With looks of love and outstretched hand. They seem as when on earth a while, Except their shining dress ; And then they wear a beaming smile Of heavenly tenderness. Their love-lit eyes are plain to view ; Their eager hands are stretch'd to you. As yet you may not wing your way To that eternal zone; Your trials are not yet complete, Your duties are not done ; Perform your Saviour's kind commands, Lie patient in his holy hands. Wait but a while, and you shall soar To that celestial crowd, With songs in your Redeemer's praise And hallelujahs loud; And meet where sorrows never pain. With Christ and with his saints to reign. THE BLACKBERRY-GATHERER. 233 THE BLACKBEREY-GATHEREK; OR, THE UNEXPECTED FEAST. Never, surely, was man more fond of a black- berry tban I am. With all its thorns, the bramble is a favourite with me. It first gives me pleasure with its purple stem, green leaves, and white flowers, and then regales me with its delicious fruit. It was autumn. More than half September had rolled awciy, and I had not plucked a single black- berry. I set oif to a hedge which had often fur- nished me with a sumptuous feast. There the spiky thorn formed a barrier which cattle could not pass, and there the bramble flourished in all its glory. Alas ! I was disappointed of my treat, for not a ripe berry could I find. '^Well," thought I, ^Uhough I reckoned on my entertainment, I must not take the matter to heart. True it is that I am thirsty, and very grateful would the juicy fruit have been to me; but I can do without it. Let me be thankful that I am not a toilworu pilgrim in the hot desert, overwhelmed with the dreadful announcement, ' The well is dry!'" Thus endeavouring to make the best of my little 20* 234 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. disappointment, L walked on, and soon after saw a poor fisherman coming towards me with a basket. The very sight of the basket encouraged both hope and expectation. '^Have you been gathering blackberries?" said I. "I have, sir,'' replied the man, "but they are scarce enough, at present ; by-and-by there will be enough of them." As the man spoke, he removed the lid of his bas- ket, that I might see his store ; and a goodly store it was ; some of the berries were certainly red, but the greater part of them were black. " Do you sell them ?" said I. "No, sir," said he, "I never sell them; I get them for my wife, who is uncommonly fond of a blackberry pudding," "That does not at all surprise me," said I. " The blackberry is good, eat it how you will. It is good cooked or uncooked, in a pudding or a pie, plucked from the bush, or picked from the basket. May I have a few ?" " As many as you like, sir," was his frank reply ; so I set to work picking the tip-toppers from among them, taking as many as I chose, dropping a six- pence into the basket for the man's children, if he had any, and feeling very thankful for so unex- pected a feast. " But why have you put these two sprays in your THE BLACKBERRY-GATHERER. 235 basket?" said I; ^^why do you not pull the berries offtbem?'^ " They are for my wife, sir/' said he; "I never ge blackberrying without getting a spray or two of the best I can find for her ; she is so uncommonly fond of them. You can't think, sir, how she likes the sprays." •^ That is right/' said I, " and I hope you will never give up so excellent a custom. This is the way to make a wife love you, for kindness begets kindness all the world over. Those two sprays are worth a whole basketful of blackberries. Of the pudding you will most likely have your share, but the sprays will be your wife's, and her's alone." For some time the poor fisherman kept shaking up his basket that I might pick out the best of its contents, while I kept talking to him, not knowing which was the better pleased of the two. To me it was a double feast; much did I enjoy the black- berries, but still more the man's affection for his wife. This unpretending, gentle deed, on the part of the poor fisherman, was an occurrence that just suited me. While the Sir Walter Raleighs of the world gallantly spread their costly mantles in the mire that royal feet may not be incommoded, and while such courtier-like actions are handed down to the admiration of posterity, be it mine to record the less questionable kindnesses of common life 236 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. that occur in the sphere of my own observation. And forgive me, ye admirers of Sir Walter, if I rank the affection of a poor man for his wife higher than I do the questionable attentions of a courtier to his queen. At a time when the violence of drunken hus- bands towards their wives is, alas ! so much on the increase, justly calling forth public indignation, it is pleasant to meet with a case of a different kind. It was on the stile on the height above the vale of Ecclesbourne, Hastings, that the poor fisherman rested his basket while I revelled in the banquet it provided for me. I am not likely to forget the place, the fisherman, the basket, or the blackberries. Hastings, with thy parades and pleasant path- ways, I owe thee much ; for, beneath His indulgent care who has spread out the waters with his hand, spangled the sl?y with stars, and studded the bramble with blackberries, thy breezes have given me health, thy hills and dales added to my enjoy- ment, and thy Sabbath-heralds of mercy ministered largely to my peace. A blessing from above light on thy inhabitants, thy mariners, and the stranger sojourning within thy gates, from St. Leonard's to Ecclesbourne, from the windmills to the sea, and from the barons of the Cinque Ports to the house- hold of the poor fisherman with his basket of blackberries ! SWEET AND SOOTHING. 237 SWEET AND SOOTHINa. If in this world there are many things that are harsh and irritating, there are also many which are sweet and soothing; nor can we do better than garner up the latter in our memory as anodynes to the daily cares that ruffle our temper and destroy our repose. The mind is more peaceful in con- templating a calm than in dwelling on a storm, and we benefit ourselves more by reflecting on the meek- ness of the lamb than in pondering on the ferocity of the wolf. How sweet and soothing it is at the end of a day of care, passed in the battle of life and among the hard ways of men, to find ourselves once more in the calm quietude of a domestic home, solaced by the soft voices and-the kindly deeds of those we truly love ! It is as an oasis in the desert to the pilgrim, or as the gentle breeze and cup of cool water to the thirsty and toilworn traveller. It steals the sting from every care. The smart from every wound, When love and tenderness prevail, And gentle deeds abound. It is said that, in the ^'Kepos du Berger," or 238 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. Shepherd's Rest, a hollow cleft in the Col de Julien, one of the Central Alps, where once existed a little colony of pious Vaudois, there is now scarcely a trace of home and habitation. The long grass and wild weeds grow freely there, and the lark makes her nest among them, and sings. There is something sweet, nay, very sweet, in the lark building her nest in the ruined homes of a bygone generation of pious people, taking up, as it were, the song to her Maker where man had laid it down, and thus practically proclaiming the words of the last verse of the last of David's psalms, '^ Let every thing that hath breath praise the Lord." There is often much that is sweet and soothing to be obtained from the outward creation, when the mind is in such a frame that it can take of temporal things and turn them to eternal purposes. It was thus with me the other day when walking in the open fields. I came suddenly upon an old blasted elm-tree, that had no green leaf upon it, and only one branch; but that one, aftir striking out from the stem, abruptly altered its direction and pointed to the clouds. "A lesson for me in my age I" cried I; ''while I have an arm, a hand, a finger, yea, while I have my being, oh, may the last desire of my heart, like the remaining bough of the blasted tree, be still found directed to the skies !" Hardly can we forget the sweet and soothing in- fluence which sometimes steals upon the mind when SWEET AND SOOTHING. 239 witnessiug children iu their childish sports. The merry laugh, the joyful spirit, the tender care shown towards the youngest of the group, the simple sources of their gratification, and the love that binds them together, all seem to read a lesson to the Wfinkled brow and careworn heart of man. Why cannot we, like children, be contented with little ? Why cannot we all love one another? Few things are more sweet and soothing than a walk in the open air after an illness that has long confined us within doors. Pain has subdued us and fever has pulled us down, but we begin to take heart and hope. With a pale cheek and a languid frame, clothing ourselves for the occasion, we venture for the first time abroad. Leaning on our stick, feeble and tottering, we proceed, wondering at our temerity, till, all at once, oil turning the brow of the hill, the fresh breeze salutes us, the pleasant sun- beam cheers us, and the green fields stretching out before us greatly minister to our delight. AVe feel as he felt who was t^ld to take up his bed and walk. We know that the mighty hand of God is upon us for good. Our hearts melt within us at the re- membrance of his mercy, and with swimming eyes and a faltering tongue we stammer out his praise. "Thy hand alone, Almighty Lord, Restored our fleeting breath ; Kenew'd our strength, and led us forth From sickness and from death." 240 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. Sometimes^ without an intention on either part^ an alienation takes place between Christian friends, to the great grief of both; and, oh, how sweet and soothing it is to find out at last that the whole originated in a mistake, a mere misunderstanding, and that, in reality, after all the bitterness and sor- row occasioned thereby, there never was at the bot- tom of the crucible of each others' hearts any thing but Christian love and Christian kind u ess ! Who has not, in the deep slumbers of the night, been under the dominion of some terrible dream ? Some dreadful danger is at hand, from which there is no escape. Some fault has been committed by us, overwhelming us with shame and confusion; or some long-dreaded evil has come upon us, that in- volves us in irrevocable i-uin. Sweet and soothing it is, indeed, in such a fearful crisis, to awake and find it nothing but a dream. Instead of distress, and terror, and despair, all is joy and thankfulness. He, who neither sleepeth nor slumbereth, has kept us through the night, restored our faculties for the day, and put a new song in our mouth, even praise and thanksgiving to God. After the bereavement of a dear relative and friend, when the sorrowing heart has raised an ensign of rebellion against its Almighty Maker, calling in question his inscrutable decrees, and re- fusing to be comforted, there is something inexpres- sibly sweet and soothing, when, subdued by sorrow. SWEET AND SOOTHING. 241 our rebellious thouglits and idle feelings die witliin us, and we are enabled by divine grace to smile amidst our tears and say, ''I know, Lord, that thy judgments are right, and that thou in faithful- ness hast afflicted me :" Ps. cxix. 75. Oh that we could always seek this solace in our bereavements, instead of madly doing battle against the Lord of hosts ! for " who hath hardened himself against him, and hath prospered ?" Job ix. 4. Who, when in the flood of affliction the waters appeared to go over his soul, or when in the fiery trial the furnace has seemed to be seven times hotter than usual, has lighted, seemingly by accident, on that heart-sustaining text of Scripture — " When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee ; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee : when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned ; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee : for I am the Lord thy God, the Holy One of Israel, thy Saviour:'^ Isa. xliii. 2, 3 — without find- ing and feeling it to be sweet and soothing? In such a season the consolation comes, " not as the word of men, but as it is in truth, the word of God :" 1 Thess. ii. 13. Such are some of the sweet and soothing ingre- dients in the cup of our existence; but sweeter, per- haps, and more soothing and encouraging than all, is the joyous moment when the saddened soul of a Christian man, suddenly enfranchised from doubts 21 242 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. and darkness and the fear of death, temporal and eternal, is enabled by faith fully to believe and exult in that glorious declaration of his Redeemer: "I am the resurrection and the life; he that be- lie veth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live : and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die:" John xi. 25, 26. Thus set at liberty, the newly-awakened soul springs upward in a path the eagle has not known, full of light, and life, and immortality. " 'Tis something like the burst from death to life ; From the grave's cerements to the robes of heaven; From sin's dominion, and from passion's strife, To the pure freedom of a soul forgiven; Where all the bonds of death and hell are riven, And mortal puts on immortality; Where Mercy's hand hath turned the golden key, And Mercy's voice hath said, ' Rejoice ! thy soul is free !' " MOODY MINDS AND SUNNY SPIRITS. 243 MOODY MINDS AND SUNNY SPIRITS. There are moody-minded Christians, naturally and habitually desponding. Bodily afflictions and worldly trials bow them down. Though true dis- ciples of Christ, they are under the bondage of darkness and fear. With them joy is only an oc- casional visitor, sorrow a constant companion. The blue heavens and the beauties of creation neither charm their senses nor soften their souls. The world is regarded by them too literally as a '' waste- howling wilderness," and mankind as moths flutter- ing round a lighted taper, or as thoughtless beings sporting on the edge of a fearful precipice. They seem to think that man's mission is to mourn over his transgressions, to ponder on the judgpients of the Lord, and to alarm their fellow-sinners of the wrath that is to come. They too frequently pass by what is encouraging in God's holy word, and pore and ponder over the darlier dispensations of the Al- mighty. Many are the men of this description, and such a man was Amos Dow. There are sunny-spirited followers of the Re- deemer, who are ever disposed, with sparkling eyes and beating hearts^ to rejoice in God's word and 244 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. God's works. Wherever they are, a se.nse of good- ness and mercy is with them. Revelation and creation both minister to their joy, for in both, to them, the same Almighty hand is visible. They see, or think they see, in the sunny glow, the blooming flower, and the sparkling stream, the beauty of love, the reflected smile of their indul- gent Heavenly Father. The timbrel is ever in their hands, and the burden of their song is, ''0 come, let us sing unto the Lord; let us make a joyful noise to the Rock of our salvation:" Ps. xcv. 1. Men of this cast are sometimes seen, and such a man was Urban Lee. The meeting of two such men seemed hardly desirable; for what sympathy could there be be- tween them? What qualities could attract them, or what links bind them together? They did, how- ever, meet, and at first, as might have been expect- ed, one shrunk from the other, as a needle recoils from the opposing end of the magnet : Amos con- sidering the joyousness of LTrban as inconsistent with the deep solemnity of holy things, and L^rban regarding the gloom of Amos as an unamiable ex- hibition of the Christian character. Wondrous are the workings of the human mind and the influence of Christian principle over hu- man aff"ections ! Both Amos and Urban, different as they were in other respects, had much of that Christian charity which "beareth all things, bo- MOODY MINDS AND SUNNY SPIRITS. 245 lievetli all things, liopeth all things, euduretli all things;" so that, when they again met, the exercise of this grace led them to regard each other with more forbearance. Amos now soon discovered that Urban was not the light, surface-character which he had taken him to be, but that his soul magnified the Lord, and truly rejoiced in God his Saviour. Nor was Urban Lee slow to perceive that the ha- bitual gloom of Amos Dow arose not from "discon- tent, or a bad temper, but from a godly sorrow for sin and a deep conviction of his own unworthiness. But not only did Amos and Urban do each other justice; they began, also, to take themselves to task for not possessing the qualities they could not but estimate in each other. The spirit of thankfulness which Amos saw in Urban reproved his own de- spondency, so that he fervently sought at the throne of grace that the language of his heart might be, " give thanks unto the Lord ; for he is good : for his mercy endureth forever:" Ps. cxxxvi. 1. The advantage on the part of Urban was equally great; for, feeling that he could lay no claim to that deep abhorrence of sin and jealous watchfulness over himself which was so strikingly set forth by Amos, he became anxious to profit by the example set before him. He began to inquire of himself whether his habitual cheerfulness was a mere ani- mal impulse, or an emanation of true thankfulness to his loving Lord. 21* 246 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. Christians of the most opposite characters may greatly benefit each other, by avoiding each other's failings and striving after each other's graces. It was so in the friendship of Amos and Urban. Had the secret thoughts of the heart of Amos been made known in words, they might have been expressed in the following manner: — ^' How is it, after partaking of so many mercies, that I* have been satisfied in praying to God with- out praising him? How is it that for so many years I should have been blind to the grace of thankfulness ? The language of David was, ' I will praise thee, Lord, with my whole heart :' Ps. ix. 1 3 and here is this Urban always rejoicing, while I am always mourning. I am guilty in this thing j truly I have sinned against the Lord." And then came the prayer, '^ Make me more thankful for the hope that is in me, through Christ. Lord, open thou my lips, and my mouth shall show forth thy praise.'^ The reflections of Urban Lee, -though of a difl^'er- ent kind, were not less profitable. " Have a care. Urban," thought he to himself, 'Mest you mistake your cheerful disposition for God's grace. Rejoice with trembling, Mark the humiliation of mind, the godly fear, the heart-searching integrity, of Amos Dow, and let it lead you to more watchful- ness and care." Thus was Urban humbled with a sense of his inferiority, as a Christian made more MOODY MINDS AND SUNNY SPIRITS. 247 grateful for liis mercies, and rendered more desirous to be found faithful in liis heavenly calling. Thus established in each other's regard, every day Amos and Urban became more united in Christian fellowship, and more truly serviceable to each other : Urban shedding a sunbeam of cheer- fulness on the moody mind of Amos Dow, and the latter imparting a deeper tone of piety to the sunny spirit of Urban Lee. Christians, expect not, hope not, desire not, your fellow-pilgrims to be the counterparts of yourselves. He who, rich in mercy, has called so great a variety of men to be fellow-partakers of the gospel of Christ and fellow-heirs of the kingdom of heaven, can so move the hearts of his people that their different graces shall be for each other's good and his glory. Go on your way, then, not only loving your gracious Lord, but also loving one another; bearing each other's burdens, forgiving each other's trespasses, avoiding each other's faults, and emulating each other's graces. 248 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. HASTE TO THE CKOSS. More than three thousand summers and winters have visited the earth since Moses raised, by divine command, the brazen serpent in the wilderness. Since then kingdoms have risen and fallen, and the twelve tribes of the children of Israel been scat- tered into all lands. Prophets have prophesied; the Lord of life and glory has suffered on the cross; and apostles have borne witness to the truth, sealing their testimony with their blood. But not yet has that brazen serpent erected in the wilderness lost its signification. It was but the type, the symbol, of what was to take place in after years ; for, " as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of man be lifted up, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have eternal life:" Johniii. 14, 15. If the serpents of the wilderness stung their thousands, the serpents of sin have stung their ten thousands. The whole race of Adam have been bitten. ^^All have sinned," and the right- eous sentence of the Eternal has gone forth, " The soul that sinneth, it shall die." To the cross, sinner, to the cross ! The Son of man is lifted up ! the Saviour of the world is the only cure. HASTE TO THE CROSS. 249 To the cross, without delay, ye high-minded and proud, for your disease is deadly and your danger imminent. " Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall :" Prov. xvi. 18. The pride of your hearts has deceived you; ye are bitten, and the fiery venom is flowing in your veins. " Though thou exalt thyself as the eagle, and though thou set thy nest among the stars, thence will I bring thee down, saith the Lord :'^ Obad, 4. " Vain-glorious sinner, let this truth suflSce, The cross once seen is death to every vice ; Else He that hung there suflfer'd all his pain, Bled, groan'd, and agonized, and died, in vain." To the cross, ye bruised and broken, who, know- ing your disease and danger, are smiting on your breasts, and crying aloud, ''■ God be merciful to me a sinner." To you, sin is exceedingly sinful ; but there is balm in Gilead, and there is a physician there, and both will be found at the cross. Your plague will be stayed, your leprosy will be healed, and the venom of your serpent-bite be taken away. ''To the Lord our God belong mercies and forgive- ness, though we have rebelled against him :" Dan. ix. 9. To the cross ! " Seek ye the Lord while he may be found, call ye upon him while he is near :" Isa. Iv. 6. To the cross, ye covetous and worldly-minded, who bow down to mammon and worship wealth. Know ye not that "the love of money is the root of all 250 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. evil "? The fangs of the serpent, sin, have infected you from the crown of the head to the sole of the foot. The herbs of the field cannot heal you, the waters of the river cannot cleanse you. Every other way is hedged up; you must renounce your worldly-mindedness, and hasten to the cross. Seek, and ye shall yet find mercy. To the cross, ye careless ones, who know not the mortal malady with which you are seized. There is madness in your mirth and weakness in your appa- rent strength. The time is short, and you have need to pass the time of your sojourning here in fear. Away to the cross ! If you say that you have no sin, you deceive yourselves, and the truth is not in you ; but if you confess your sins, God is faithful and just to forgive you your sins, and to cleanse you from all unrighteousness. To the cross, ye unbelievers and scoffers, lest ye be mocked when your fear cometh. You, too, have been sin-bitten, and the malignant poison, if not counteracted, will bring about your eternal wo. The word of God is true, whether believed or doubted; and death, and judgment, and heaven, and hell, are realities that cannot be scoffed away. Cover your sins, and ye shall not prosper; confess, and forsake them, and ye shall find mercy. The cross is your only refuge. Remember that the Lord cometh as a thief in the night; and what if he should find you unprepared ? HASTE TO THE CROSS. 251 To the cross, ye bold blasphemers, who give up yourselves to work iniquity with greediness, fearing neither God nor man, and glorying in your shame ; for why should ye perish in your sins ? Remember that the day of the Lord cometh as a thief in the night, and while you are saying, Peace and safety, sudden destruction may come upon you. The serpent, sin, has bitten you without mercy, and the contagion is raging in your hearts. But look to the cross : " For the grace of God that bringeth salvation has appeared to all men, teaching us that, denying ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously, and godly, in this present world, looking for that blessed hope, and the glorious appearing of the great God and our Saviour Jesus Christ, who gave himself for us that he might redeem us from all iniquity, and. purify unto himself a peculiar people, zealous of good , works :'^ Titus ii. 11-14. To the cross, without delay, for every hour is an hour of des- perate danger. To the cross, ye hypocrites and self-righteous; for ye have been deeply bitten, and have need to fear the bitter pangs of eternal death. Without aid your hope shall perish, and your trust be as a spider's web. If not cured by the blood shed on the cross, your end must be weeping and gnashing of teeth. A wo is pronounced against you, fur ye are like unto whited sepulchres, which, indeed. 252 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. appear beautiful outward, but are within full of dead men's bones and all uncleanness. But there is yet hope even for you, " for the Son of man is come to seek and to save that which was lost :" Luke xix. 10. Abhor yourselves in dust and ashes, and hasten to the cross, for He who hung there is ''able to save them to the uttermost that come unto God by him, seeing he ever liveth to make inter- cession for them :" Heb. vii. 25. To the cross, ye benighted and blindfolded Israelites, whose eyes the fulfilment of prophecy has failed to open. To the cross, ye turbaned and crescented Mohammedans, followers of a false pro- phet and blind guide. To the cross, ye idolatrous pagans, who bow down to images of wood and stone. And to the cross, ye backsliding sinners, whatever may be the sum of your transgressions. You are bitten by the fiery serpent, sin, and the cross of Christ is your only cure. The brazen serpent healed the wounded body; Christ restores the sin- stricken soul. The brazen serpent added to the days of him who gazed thereon; but the life of Him who hung on the cross is a death unto sin, a new birth unto righteousness, a sure and certain hope of heavenly glory, and an unfailing promise of a life that shall endure forever. THE END. 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