Chapter XXIV: Part 24

"He's a wonderful man. I sometimes think he can preach better than our Rector; though he is a main good preacher. He is more simple and plain-like. Somehow or another, but I don't know how it is, what he says gets farther into my heart, and stays longer there than our Rector's sermons. I wish he would preach in the morning too. The youngsters like him best. Our Harry leads the singing at the chapel, and teaches in the school. He is a kind of a right-hand man amongst 'um."

"Keep steadily on, farmer, in the good way; avoid temptation; let no sin have dominion over you; read your Bible, be constantly coming by faith to Jesus Christ, to pardon, to purify, and save you, and I shall see you in heaven at last."

"The Lord grant it may be so. Will you speak to me then if you should happen to see me there?"

"Speak to you! yes; and hail you as a son of God, made perfect in knowledge and in purity."

"Well, I'll live in hope. You will come and take pot-luck with us before you leave Fairmount?"

"Yes, do, Sir," added Mrs. Pickford; "we shall all be so glad to see you, and so will dear Henry."

"I forgot to say one thing," observed the farmer, "which mainly you would like to know, Sir."

"And what is that, Mr. Pickford?"

"Why, my mistress and our Harry have set up a bit of a prayer meeting like, in our kitchen, on a Wednesday night. Our youngsters and sarvants, and some of the neighbours come to it, and fill it; and we have some good singing, and all the rest of it, as they have at Mr. Stevens' chapel."

"I am happy to hear this, farmer; but have you a sermon?"

"No, Sir, not always; but we have a sarmunt now and tan, when we can get hold of a preacher; and when we 'ant got one, our Harry says a few things from the Bible, and you would be main pleased to hear him. He puts out what he says in a plainish sort of a way, but we all see that what he says comes from his heart, and it gets into our hearts, and does us good. Will you come, Sir, some Wednesday night while you are here, and give us a prayer and a sarmunt? You shall have a full kitchen."

"Yes, do, Sir," said Mrs. P.; "we shall be so glad to see you and hear you. I'll invite all our neighbours."

"And if the kitchen be not big enough to hold them, I'll have the barn cleared out, and we'll go there."

"Very well. I'll be with you next Wednesday."

We then shook hands and parted, and I hastened to rejoin my friends, who I found, in the interval, had met with the Roscoes, including Miss Roscoe, who had now happily completely recovered from her cold, and consented, evidently to the satisfaction of Mr. Llewellin, to accompany her parents in the evening to Fairmount. I informed them of my conversation with Farmer Pickford, and how I had arranged to conduct a prayer meeting at his house on the ensuing Wednesday. We then proceeded homeward, discussing the topics of the sermon we had just heard, with, I trust, much mutual profit. Early in the evening, Mr. and Mrs. Roscoe, and Miss Roscoe, appeared, agreeably to their promise, and we spent a very pleasant Christmas evening together. The tranquil joy visible in the countenances of Mr. Llewellin and Miss Roscoe was especially manifest--our courting days, as Goldsmith remarks, being generally about the happiest in our lives. After tea we had a little sacred music, both Mr. Llewellin and Miss Roscoe being admirable performers on the pianoforte. We then all joined in singing together the Evening Hymn. Thus terminated our Christmas at Fairmount, during which we had all experienced how much better is the employment of the day in the purposes of devotion than in those of conviviality and mirth.

On Christmas Day, when the scattered members of a family are gathered together to enjoy, around the social hearth, the pleasures of social intercourse, those who are the avowed disciples of the Redeemer should be on their guard, lest they conform to the custom of the world, which too often celebrates his birth by indulging in the pleasures of eating and drinking, and thoughtless merriment, rather than by improving conversation and the interchange of devotional sentiments. We are required to set an example; and while I am no advocate for the exclusion of innocent recreations and indulgences from the domestic circle, I must enforce the imperative necessity of a dignified consistency of conduct on the part of those who profess to be wiser in their generation than the men of the world, and who contemplate, with wonder and with gratitude, the scheme of redemption, consummated by the appearance of the Saviour, on which many pour contempt, or look with unmoved indifference. You may have your family parties, and you may invite your friends to partake of your bounty, and you may assume and wear an air of cheerfulness and pleasantry; but no excess of eating, or of drinking, or of levity should be tolerated, as your profession has raised you to the summit of observation, and the irreligious, no less than your fellow-Christians, expect that you will let your moderation appear unto all men. Your children, if they are not decidedly pious, may wish, on this day of festivity, to trespass a little farther on the gravity of your domestic habits than they presume to do on ordinary occasions; and though I would not advise you to transfer the sanctity of the Sabbath to this day, as you have no authority for so doing, yet there is a propriety in observing it with decorum, as commemorating the birth of him who came to put away sin by the sacrifice of himself. The slightest reference to the _design_ of his mission will suggest to your mind the importance of celebrating this day in a suitable manner, by offering "thanks unto God for his unspeakable gift," and by giving a practical proof that he came to save his people from their sins.

WINTER SCENES.

The weather had been intensely cold since our arrival at Fairmount, and for two days the snow had descended without intermission; but on the second evening a severe frost set in, and when I stepped out in the morning, I found that the fallen flakes had become so hardened that I could walk on them without leaving the impression of my foot on the surface. I love the country at all seasons, and, though certainly preferring it in the genial seasons of summer and autumn, when the woods are decked in their mantle of green, and the fields brighten in the sunshine with their waving crops of golden grain, I have nevertheless frequently experienced a large amount of pleasure in rambling during winter along the frozen roads and lanes, or contemplating the bleak landscape spreading out before me, with its white carpet of snow.

After walking briskly onward for a little distance, I determined, after some hesitation, to revisit the spot where, on a former occasion,[29] I had sat to feast myself on the enchanting scenery of the country, which was then clothed in its gayest summer dress; but now the scene was completely changed. The skeleton trees extended their leafless branches sprinkled with snow-flakes; many of the evergreens in the shrubbery presented a withered and scorched aspect, from the influence of the frost; while the little birds, who in the summer had delighted us with their music, were now roaming about the country in search of food, and some of them not unfrequently found dead on the roadside from hunger and cold.

[29] See vol. i. p. 92.

As I stood viewing the change which the winter season had made in the appearance of nature, my mind reverted to the changes which as suddenly take place in the dispensations of Providence; and I recalled to my remembrance many who, during my short pilgrimage, had sunk from the heights of prosperity to the depths of adversity, and whose opening spring of plenty and of hope had been succeeded by the sterile and stormy winter--closing up the visions of their anticipated bliss in the gloom of disappointment and of woe. While thus musing on the mutations of nature and of Providence, I saw two lads approaching from a distant meadow, and when they drew near enough for me to trace their features, I recognized the children of the woodman whom I visited on the evening when his little daughter died.[30] They looked very sorrowful and dejected, and exclaimed, as soon as they recognized me, "O, Sir, we are again in trouble--we have lost father! Have you seen him, or heard of him? We have been walking about ever since daybreak, but we can't find him." They then gave me an account of the calamity which had befallen them.

[30] See vol. i. p. 104.

After the interment of his daughter, he regained his usual flow of spirits, and felt resigned to the will of God; but within the last few weeks he had sunk into a low, desponding state, and often spoke of his decease as one who believed the hour of his departure was at hand; and yet health nerved his arm, and he was strong to labour. "Mother often told him," said the eldest son, "that he ought not to mistrust Providence, who had always provided food and raiment for us; nor yet to think that he was going to leave us. But she could not comfort him; for, after coming home at night, he would sit and weep, and talk to us till we all wept with him; and we knew not why, for we saw no danger coming. We were all well and happy except father."

He had gone to his work on the preceding day, at his usual hour, taking with him, in his bag and bottle, his refreshment, and was seen by his master about noon, walking away from the field in which he had been at work, with his dog by his side, but neither of them had been heard of since. "We fear, Sir," said the lad, who sobbed aloud as he spoke, wiping away at the same time the falling tears with the sleeve of his frock, "he has tumbled into some pit, and has perished in the snow; but, Sir, we cannot trace any marks of his footsteps, nor yet hear Trail bark nor howl. Farmer Pickford and his son have just been away searching for him in one direction, and we in another; and the whole village is up looking for him, but we can see nothing like him anywhere, and I feel assured that poor father is gone. O, Sir, if you could but come and speak a word of comfort to mother! She is so unhappy, she does nothing but wring her hands and cry, for she does not know what to do."

Having heard this tale of woe, I resolved to accompany the two lads to the cottage, and endeavour to soothe their mother's distress. The distracted wife was standing at the door, and, on seeing me, she clasped her hands in an agony of grief, and began to repeat to me the affecting tale. "I have thought, Sir, at times, he would not live long, for within the last two months his spirit and his prayer all seemed to prove that he was getting ripe for glory; but I did not expect to lose him so soon, nor in this way."

"You do not," I remarked, "suppose that he is murdered?"

"O no, Sir! He has tumbled into some pit and perished in the snow, which fell yesterday in larger and thicker flakes than I ever saw before; but I feared no danger, because he knows the parts so well. I expected him home sooner than usual, on account of the badness of the weather; and as I thought something warm would comfort him, I had got a stew ready, but"--she could add no more.

I was very much affected by the aspect of the interior of the cottage, which still showed the preparations made on the preceding evening for the poor woodman's return. The neat round table stood near the fire, covered with a clean cloth; a deep wooden trencher, with a spoon and salt-cellar made of the same material, were placed beside it; the oak chair was in readiness to receive its owner, and the small kettle was still hanging over the fire, which had been suffered to dwindle from the bright blaze into dying embers. I endeavoured to comfort her in this hour of her sorrow; but she was so overpowered with anguish, that words of consolation appeared to be of no avail; and after praying with her I left, with a promise that I would call again. The lines of the poet Thomson, with which I had been long familiar, now recurred to my recollection, and I could not repress the tear which their remembrance on the present occasion involuntarily caused:--

"Ah! little think the gay licentious proud,
Whom pleasure, pow'r, and affluence surround;
They who their thoughtless hours in giddy mirth,
And wanton, often cruel riot, waste;
Ah! little think they, while they dance along,
How many feel, this very moment, death,
And all the sad variety of pain.
How many sink in the devouring flood,
Or more devouring flame! How many bleed,
By shameful variance betwixt man and man!
How many pine in want, and dungeon glooms,
Shut from the common air, and common use
Of their own limbs! How many drink the cup
Of baleful grief, or eat the bitter bread
Of misery! Sore pierc'd by wintry winds,
How many sink into the sordid hut
Of cheerless poverty! How many shake
With all the fiercer tortures of the mind,
Unbounded passion, madness, guilt, remorse!
Whence, tumbling headlong from the height of life,
They furnish matter for the tragic muse.
Even in the vale, where wisdom loves to dwell,
With friendship, peace, and contemplation join'd,
How many, rack'd with honest passions, droop
In deep retir'd distress! How many stand
Around the deathbed of their dearest friends,
And point the parting anguish! Thought fond man
Of these, and all the thousand nameless ills,
That one incessant struggle render life,
One scene of toil, of suffering, and of fate,
Vice in his high career would stand appall'd,
And heedless rambling impulse, learn to think;
The conscious heart of charity would warm,
And her wide wish benevolence dilate;
The social tear would rise, the social sigh;
And into clear perfection, gradual bliss,
Refining still, the social passions work."

On my return to Fairmount, I found the Roscoes there; and, on entering the parlour, Mrs. Stevens said, "We have felt somewhat uneasy on your account. I hope nothing unpleasant has detained you."

"I have been, Madam, to the house of mourning, where grief is still raging unassuaged." I then narrated the melancholy tale, which deeply affected the whole party; and various plans were suggested for the recovery of the lost woodman.

"It will be impossible for us," said Mr. Roscoe, "to do anything in the way of searching for this poor man; but we may make some provision for the support of his widow, as I fear she may now too truly be termed, by commencing a subscription for her, which I think is no less our duty than our privilege."

"Very good," replied Mrs. Stevens, who immediately drew from her pocket-book a five pound note, which sum was increased to the amount of £17 by the donations of the rest of the party.

"How soon," remarked Mr. Stevens, "may a mysterious Providence lay waste the pleasant things of our possession, and leave us in a state of destitution and affliction! I saw the woodman and his family at church on Christmas morning; the bloom of health was on his countenance, and a fine glow of delight came over it when Mr. Ingleby was describing the effects which would be produced on the mind of a redeemed sinner when taking the first look at the Great High Priest of the heavenly temple. I have no doubt but he spent the evening of that day in the bosom of his family, blessing them with his prayers and instructions."

"At no season of the year," said Miss Roscoe, "am I so powerfully impressed by a sense of the Divine goodness, as during the inclement season of winter; when I am sheltered from the rude storm, which often beats through the shattered roof of the poor man's cottage--am warmed by the cheerful blaze, which seldom burns on his hearth--have extra clothing to cover me whenever I am exposed to the severity of the weather--and have all the comforts and conveniences of life, while many,

"'Sore pierc'd by wintry winds,
----sink into the wretched hut
Of cheerless poverty!'

But why am I favoured with these mercies of which many others are deprived? I might have been doomed to work for my daily bread, or perhaps to beg it from door to door; or, looking at the fate of this poor woodman, such a calamity might quite as likely have befallen one of my dearest friends."

"If we wish to trace our mercies," said Mr. Lewellin, "to the source from whence they proceed, we must go to the fountain of all goodness, and acknowledge that 'every good and perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning.' No other reason can be assigned why we are so distinguished by the munificence of his kindness in preference to others, than the sovereignty of his will."

"And does it not," said Miss Roscoe, "enhance the value of our mercies, and tend to excite our gratitude to still higher degrees of ardour, when we receive them as coming from the fountain of all goodness through the mediation of our Redeemer, who gave himself for us!"

"And," remarked Mr. Stevens, "if we are distinguished in preference to others, when we can present no stronger claims on the Divine bounty, I think we ought to act an equally munificent part towards the more needy and afflicted of the human family. I am at a loss to conceive how any Christian can consent to be comfortably clothed and fed, while so many, even of the household of faith, are suffering all the evils attendant on a state of poverty. What we possess is intrusted to our care as stewards, not given to us as proprietors; and though we are allowed to partake of it, yet are we not commanded to distribute to the necessities of the saints?"

"I have no doubt," said Mr. Roscoe, "there are many pious and benevolent Christians who would distribute a much larger portion of their goods amongst the poor and the needy, if they knew the extent of their privations; but living apart from the suffering community by which they are surrounded, and seldom hearing of its woes, they have no conception of the prevalence of distress, and from ignorance rather than avarice, withhold the assistance they would otherwise most willingly afford. I have long entertained this opinion; for I generally find, that when any special case of distress becomes a subject of notoriety, or when any benevolent scheme is promulgated to promote the comfort of the poor, especially on any pressing occasion, contributions flow into the treasury of benevolence to a large amount."

"Yes, papa," answered his daughter; "when the public see the pallid and emaciated form of misery moving before their eye, or when they hear the mournful relation of its sufferings, the common sympathies of their nature are powerfully excited, and they cannot help affording some degree of assistance without doing violence to their Christian feelings; but is it not our duty, as the disciples of the Redeemer, to imitate his example _in going about continually doing good_? We are told that 'the poor shall never cease out of the land;' and can poverty exist unattended by its consequent evils? Would it not, on our part, be a profitable exercise, were we sometimes to leave our warm fireside, during the inclemency of the weather, and visit the huts and cottages of the poor, to examine for ourselves how they are clad, and how they are warmed and fed?"

"Certainly, my dear; and I think that those Christians who possess wealth to any extent beyond the immediate wants of their own family, who never pay such a visit to the poor man's dwelling, not only deprive themselves of one strong incitement to gratitude, but act a faithless part to him who has employed them in the capacity of stewards to distribute his bounties."

"I quite agree with you," said Mr. Lewellin, "in your opinion respecting the benevolence of the public when any case of distress, or when any scheme of charity becomes the subject of notoriety, but the benevolence which takes its rise from the mere sympathies of our nature, or that is stimulated to excitement by the example of others, is a defective principle, and essentially different from the pure benevolence of Christianity, which, taking its rise from the authority of the Divine law, proposes the example of the Redeemer as the pattern of its own conduct, going and distributing its donations in the unfrequented paths of misery, no less than in the open field of want."

"What you say, Sir," replied Mr. Roscoe, "is very true; and it possesses another property which you have forgotten to mention--it is less dependent on excitement, and consequently more steady in its exercise. I once heard of a lady of rank who rode out in her carriage one frosty morning, but having passed the suburbs of the city, felt the weather so intensely cold, that she ordered the coachman to drive home as fast as possible. Turning then to a friend who was with her, she said, 'I will immediately purchase twelve pairs of blankets for the poor, who must be nearly frozen to death.' In the afternoon, when reminded of her promise, she said, 'I think the weather is become so mild that they will not require the blankets.' 'Yes,' replied her friend, 'it is milder in this parlour than it was in the carriage, but it is equally severe in the open air.' In this case, as in many others, the intensity of the weather excited the benevolent feeling, and extorted the pledge; but as soon as the bitter cold outside was exchanged for the comfortable warmth within, the feeling gradually subsided, and the poor were left still to suffer without enjoying the benefit of relief."

"I was so much struck," said Mr. Stevens, "with the description of charity which I met with in the course of my reading some time since, that I transcribed it into my common-place book, and, by your permission, I will now read it:--

"'Charity is no intermittent thing that now and then breaks out into brilliant munificence, and then retires to slumber in the lap of indolence and selfish repose; that, like a burning mountain, emits occasional sparks and flashes of splendour, and then rolls forth nothing but smoke and darkness. It is a lamp that is always burning, sometimes with a brighter and sometimes with a fainter light, but is never extinguished. It is a vital principle--a generous life--the pulses of which are continually proceeding, now with stronger and now with more languid beats, but never come to a stand still. The life of a charitable man consists not merely of a few detached acts of desultory bounty, separated from each other by long intervals; his heart is an inexhaustible fountain, that supplies a current of kind attentions; that sends forth a stream of services to his fellow-creatures, few of which may be signal, but all of which are sincere, and which, though separately considered, may appear small, yet, collectively, are of great amount.'"

"But," said Mr. Lewellin, "we rarely find a pure and unremitting charity, except among those who are the real disciples of Jesus Christ; and the motive by which they are induced to cultivate it is very powerful. In the twenty-fifth chapter of the gospel by Matthew, our Lord has given us an impressive description of the solemnities of the future judgment; and when replying to the interrogation of the righteous, whom he had commended for their benevolence, he says, to explain the language he employed, 'Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.' He thus teaches us that we are to perform our acts of beneficence and kindness, not merely because others set us the example, nor yet to gratify our own feelings of sympathy or vanity, but to express our gratitude and love to him for his love and compassion _towards_ us. When we are governed by this motive, which the men of the world would deride as the figment of an enthusiastic imagination, our benevolence becomes one of the established laws of our moral system, which admits of no suspension or diversion, without occasioning a shock to our sense of right and wrong. And when we act on this principle, it is as if we addressed a poor person in the words which I lately read in an admired author:--'I relieve you in your distress, because of the near relation you bear to that blessed Person who has relieved me in all mine--my Friend, my Benefactor, my Saviour, my God. I, too, was an hungered, and he gave me the bread of life; I was thirsty, and he gave me the water of life; I was a stranger, not belonging to the fold, and he took me into it; I was naked, and he clothed me with the robe of righteousness; I was sick, and he visited me, and comforted me, and made me whole; I was in prison, and he came to me, loosed the bands of sin and death, and brought me forth unto light, liberty, and salvation. You come recommended to me as one of those whom he condescends to call his brethren. Accept, for his sake, what I can give you. I would it were more; all I have is too little.'"

"There is," observed Miss Roscoe, "a touching force in the language of our Lord which no real disciple can withstand; but there are many who have no ability to exemplify the influence which it assumes over them, for they have no wealth to distribute; and yet, if they do what they can to testify their love to him, they will be equally commended with the most munificent benefactors of their race. For he by whom actions are weighed and motives are judged--who gives to his servants what proportion of talents he pleases--often sees much given, where nothing is contributed; and will reward the benevolence which would gladly contribute if it possessed the means, no less than the munificence which commands the homage and respect of men. While, then, _we_ are so highly favoured as to be exempted from the poverty of the poor and the selfishness of the rich, and profess to derive our motives from such a pure source, let us, in the stations in which we are placed, and according to the ability which we possess, endeavour to promote the comfort and happiness of others, remembering that where much is given, much is required; and that our Lord will receive every act of kindness which we perform to our poorer brethren, as an expression of our love to himself."

"I have occasionally noticed," said Mrs. Stevens, "a strange phenomenon in what may be called the religious world--a person holding rank as a devout disciple of Jesus Christ, ever ready to administer to the spiritual wants of the destitute, but systematically unwilling to help them in their temporal distresses."

"I, too," said Mr. Lewellin, "have known the same strange thing. I know a wealthy lady who will forward handsome contributions to the treasurer of a Bible, or Tract, or Missionary Society, but if applied to on behalf of a needy person, even though a fellow-member of the same church, she will put on such a scowling look, and speak in such harsh and repulsive tones, that few will venture to ask her for alms. Her own pastor, on one occasion, ventured to ask her for a small donation, to assist a poor worthy minister who was in the depth of poverty, and, by excess of importunity, he obtained a few shillings; but within a few weeks she sent £50 to the treasurer of a society for the support of aged and infirm ministers."

"How can we account for such strange conduct, which is so opposed to the injunctions of the Word of God?"

"Very easily, Madam," replied Mr. Roscoe. "These public societies will blazon the name of the munificent donor through the British dominions in their annual reports; and as such a lady wishes to be seen of men when performing her acts of charity, she is willing to pay the price which is demanded."

"How contemptible! A female Pharisee of the old school embalmed while living, and reserved as a specimen of the detestable order from which she is descended, that we may see broadly developed the meanness and odiousness of vanity, which gives liberally to the public institutions of Christianity for self-display and self-satisfaction."

In the morning we proceeded to the woodman's cottage, and on our way overtook the sad procession of his corpse brought home on a hurdle carried by some countrymen, his weeping children and his faithful dog walking alongside. He had been found in a pit near the edge of the wood; his dog was sitting beside it, and moaning the fate of his master, whom he was unwilling to leave, though nearly perishing with hunger and cold.

On the body being brought into the house, the spectacle of grief which was then exhibited became almost too much for us to endure. His wife wiped off the snow which was still hanging about his face and hair, and then kissed his cold black lips, bedewing them with her tears, while the children pressed around her, sobbing as they looked on the altered countenance of their father, and then turned away to mourn apart. Mr. Roscoe spoke kindly to her, which soothed her spirit, and he assured her that she should not want. "I know it, Sir," she replied, "because the Lord is my Shepherd, and he can spread a table for me, though my husband is not spared to bring me the provisions." He then informed her that a subscription would be raised for her support, which he had no doubt would be sufficient to enable her to bring up her family respectably. "O! Sir," said the two eldest boys, "mother shan't want while God gives us strength to work, nor shall the little ones." "Don't cry, mother!" said the youngest girl, who had just drawn back her finger from touching the face of her father; "father is gone to see Jemima. Don't cry, mother! for that won't make father speak to us again."

Vol. i. p. 570.]

The body was interred, with great decency and solemnity, the seventh day after his decease, Mr. Ingleby reading the burial service. Such was the esteem in which he was held, and the degree of interest his death had excited, that one of the largest funeral processions known in the village for many years accompanied his remains to the grave, and all expressed the most tender sympathy towards his surviving family. By the exertions of Mr. Roscoe and Mr. Stevens, a large subscription was raised for their benefit; which in some measure tended to abate the intensity of their sufferings, though it could not heal the deep wound which had been inflicted on their domestic happiness.

* * * * *

Mr. Stevens and Mr. Lewellin accompanied me when I went to preach at Farmer Pickford's, and on our arrival we found that the barn was lighted up and seated for the occasion.

"There is a power of people," said the farmer, on giving me his hand, "come to hear the sarmunt, and no mistake." The congregation was much larger than any one had anticipated, and showed a marked attention to the sermon, which was on the conversion of Zaccheus, from Luke xix. 1-9. We intended to return to Fairmount immediately after the service was over, but felt compelled to yield to the kind importunity of the farmer and his wife, and stay to take supper with them. "A hearty welcome," said the warm-hearted farmer, as we entered his kitchen, where an ample supper was set out, consisting of a joint of roast beef, a boiled turkey and ham, custards in abundance, and tankards of the best home-brewed ale.

"Is this what you call pot-luck, Mr. Pickford?"

"No, no; we don't live after this fashion every day; but my wife and me made up our minds to give you some of the best on it; and I think that the best the house can afford is all too little in return for the sarmunt you have just given us in the barn."

Before we sat down to supper, Henry Pickford, at my request, asked the blessing, and we then set, with sharpened appetite, to the consumption of the good things before us. The farmer was so much excited, that his wife could not refrain from saying, "Master, you talk so much that you prevent conversation."

"I beg pardon, but I can't help it. What's in, will come out. I never thought of having the honour of such a company as this. Gemmen, I hope you will all enjoy yourselves as much as I do."

"We feel very much obliged to you, Mr. Pickford. As you see, we are all enjoying ourselves; and I hope we shall live to meet again."

"I trust so, too. I never expected to see such a day as this; and I was thinking, when you were preaching in the barn, that when Zaccheus got up in the morning he little thought what would happen to him before night."

"And I was thinking, Sir," said Harry, "when you were preaching, that when Zaccheus got up in the sycamore tree he didn't think he should be converted before he got down."

"It was quick work," said the farmer; "done in no time."

"And I was thinking," said Mrs. Pickford, "that everybody must have felt surprised that Jesus Christ should notice such a notorious sinner as Zaccheus was, and should condescend to go and be a guest at his house."

"Nobody more so," said the farmer, "than Zaccheus himself. I know he felt just what I feel myself. Why, it is but t'other day, and I was a wicked, drunken, and swearing fellow, that thought no more about my soul than one of my cows; but now I hate such sins, and my main concarn is to get my soul saved. At times, I can hardly believe my own knowledge. What mighty power Jesus Christ has, to bring to, such wicked and hardened sinners as Zaccheus and myself!"

"And make you new creatures," Mr. Lewellin here remarked; "the old things of evil to pass away, and the new things of grace and religion to come, to reform your character and bless your house."

"That's it, and no sham," replied the farmer. "Parson Cole called t'other day to have a talk with me. He heard I was gone mad. I told him what Jesus Christ had done for my soul, and how happy I was, and what a change had come over my Harry and the rest of us. He called it all a _lusion_, or some such a word which I didn't understand; but I made out his meaning, and I told him it was a real thing. Poor fellow, he could not understand such things--more's the pity; and he said, by way of mock-making, 'Why, Jesus Christ appears to have a great liking for you great sinners.' This made a big stir within me, and I spoke my mind. 'Yes,' I said to him, 'he is the great and good Physician that comes to cure those that otherwise were incurable.' I said to him, 'Does not Paul tell us that he began by saving the chief of sinners? and I can say he has not left off doing it yet, as I hope he will save me.'"

"No one, I think," said Mr. Stevens, "can doubt the ability or willingness of Jesus Christ to save the chief of sinners, who reflects on what he has done. He saved Zaccheus, a hard-hearted extortioner, who had grown rich by deeds of fraud and oppression; and who was justly held in such detestation by the people, that they expressed a high degree of astonishment when they found that Jesus Christ was going to be his guest."

"His conversion and salvation makes good what I said to Parson Cole, that Jesus Christ cures the incurable. I was thinking, in the barn, just when the sarmunt was over, that if any of the people who knew Zaccheus had been asked if they thought it possible for any one to convert him into an honest and charitable man, they would all have said 'No, it can't be done; he is incurable.' But Jesus Christ did it in no time."

"And I was thinking," said Mrs. Pickford, "that many a poor widow, and many a poor orphan, and many a poor tradesman, listened with great joy to the report of his conversion, when he set about doing what he said he would do--give half his goods to the poor, and make a fourfold restitution to every one he had injured."

Having now finished supper, Mr. Lewellin read the 103d Psalm, after which I brought the evening to a close by conducting family prayer. On taking leave of the farmer, he said, "There are three things I shall never forget:--I shall never forget your first call, when you talked to me about the worth of my soul; I shall never forget your preaching in my barn; and I shall never forget this story about Zaccheus, which lets us know what Jesus Christ can do in a little time."

"I hope, Sir," said Mrs. Pickford, "you will come again and see us. We shall feel so much pleased and profited too."

We then shook hands with our hospitable entertainers, and returned to Fairmount, much gratified with the pleasant evening we had spent.

ON APOSTOLICAL SUCCESSION.

On our return from Farmer Pickford's, we heard that the Rev. Mr. Roscoe and his lady had arrived rather unexpectedly at his brother's mansion; but we regarded it as a flying rumour without any foundation. However, the next morning Miss Roscoe called and confirmed the intelligence, and said she was commissioned to invite us to meet them and a select party on the following Monday evening. Addressing me, she said, "You will see a great change in my dear uncle. He is no longer the bigoted Tractarian, contending for legendary dogmas and ceremonial rites; but is now a devout and simple-hearted minister of Jesus Christ." We cordially accepted the invitation; and, on the appointed evening, had the pleasure of meeting our esteemed friends all in excellent health and spirits. After tea, a casual reference having been made by Mrs. John Roscoe to Williams' _Missionary Enterprises_,[31] we indulged for some time in a free and easy interchange of remarks on the labours of missionaries in foreign parts. This, somewhat unexpectedly, led to a grave discussion on the popular question of Apostolical Succession.

[31] _Missionary Enterprises in South Sea Islands._ By Rev. John
Williams.

"In this extraordinary narrative," said the Rev. Mr. Roscoe, "which I have read with intense delight, we have a detailed account of the success of Mr. Williams' labours. In islands where an impure and demoralizing idolatry, which often demanded human sacrifices, existed from time immemorial, there is now a Christian population, organized into churches, observing the sanctity of the Sabbath, and the ordinances of baptism and the Lord's Supper. The printing-press is also at work; the Bible is in free circulation; and the natives are exerting themselves in various ways for the spread of the gospel amongst their yet unenlightened brethren of other islands. In fact, there is such a moral and spiritual transformation that it cannot be accounted for, otherwise than by the concurrence of a supernatural power with the human agency which has been employed in effecting it."

_Mr. Roscoe._--"The results of the labours of Mr. Williams and his coadjutors in the propagation of the gospel, form a very strong argument against the dogma of Apostolical Succession, for which a party in our church are contending with so much Jesuitical artifice and overbearing intolerance. Dr. Hook, one of their leaders, says--and all the clergy of his school subscribe to his sentiments--'Unless Christ be spiritually present with the ministers of religion in their services, these services will be in vain.' I admit this: but then he adds, what I cannot admit, because it is in palpable opposition to indisputable facts--'But the only ministrations to which he has _promised_ his presence, are to those of the bishops who are successors of the first commissioned apostles, and the other clergy acting under their sanction and by their authority. I therefore,' he adds, 'at once abandon expediency, submission to constituted authority, decency, and order, as the ground of our defence of our clerical commission, and appeal to the promise given by Jesus Christ to his apostles, and which promise, by coming down to us as their successors, marks us _exclusively_ for God's ambassadors.'[32]

[32] See Dr. Hook's Sermons on Church and Establishments.

"If we contrast this vain boasting of the Tractarians with indisputable facts, how strange does it appear! Here I find from the life of Williams, that instead of studying at Cambridge or Oxford, he was serving as an apprentice to an ironmonger, in the City Road, London; and, if not a positive infidel, he was addicted to habits of impiety, if not intemperance, spending his Sabbath evenings at a public tavern. On one occasion, a pious female friend saw him loitering about in front of the tabernacle in Moorfields, where he expected to meet the companions of his nightly revels; but to mortify them because they were not punctual to their engagement, he yielded to her entreaties to go with her into the tabernacle and hear the sermon." Then, taking up the _Life of Williams_,[33] which lay on a side table, he read the following passage:--"Such a state of mind was anything but favourable to the serious consideration of sacred subjects; and few ever entered the house of God less prepared to profit by its services. The Rev. Timothy East, of Birmingham, occupied the pulpit that evening, January 30, 1814, and preached from the weighty question, 'For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? Or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?' (Mark viii. 36, 37). The word came with power, and with demonstration of the Holy Spirit upon the mind of his youthful auditor." "Now this young man," continued Mr. Roscoe, "reclaimed from the error of his ways by what Paul calls the foolishness of preaching, after tarrying at home long enough to give evidence of the genuineness of his conversion to God, and receive instruction to fit him for the work to which he had devoted himself, goes to the South Seas, learns the language of the natives, and commences the work of evangelizing them; and this book is a faithful record and report of his extraordinary labours. He received no episcopal ordination in the regular line of descent; but was he not God's ambassador of grace and mercy to these once savage and cannibal islanders? and if so, Dr. Hook asserts what is not absolutely true, that none are God's ambassadors except the clergy of the Church of England and Papal priests."

[33] _The Life of the Rev. John Williams._ By the Rev. E. Prout.
Snow, London.

_Mr. Stevens._--"The minister who preached the last anniversary sermons in my chapel, in behalf of our Sabbath-schools, informed me, when we were chatting about apostolic succession, that he knew the ecclesiastic ancestors of Mr. Williams, and gave me his pedigree, remarking that he was descended from 'a succession of bishops, who neither had palaces nor seats in the House of Lords.' Mr. Jay, of Bath, was the instrument employed by the Spirit of God in the conversion of the Rev. O. A. Jeary, of Rodborough, Gloucestershire, who was employed by the Holy Spirit in the conversion of the Rev. T. East, and he was employed by the same Divine agent in the conversion of the Rev. J. Williams. We thus see that the moral revolutions and spiritual transformations which have taken place in the South Sea Islands are not to be ascribed, in the slightest degree, either subordinately or instrumentally, to the intervention of Episcopal power or authority. Not one employed in any department of this wondrous work, occupied a position in the regular line of descent from the apostles, nor had any one of them received ordination from an Episcopal bishop."

_Rev. Mr. Guion._--"A Tractarian who admits the truthfulness of Mr. Williams' report of the success of his own labours, and those of his coadjutors, would probably look on this as an exceptional case to the established law of order prevalent in the church, which we all know requires ordination to precede preaching or the administration of the sacraments. And I see no very strong objection to this view of the matter, because we find that, even in apostolic times, the disciples who were scattered at the persecution of Stephen went to different places preaching the Word, though they were not ordained to the work as the apostles were (Acts xi. 19, 20)."

_Mr. Roscoe._--"I admit there is some force in the popular saying--'There is no rule without an exception;' and I admit, also, that the exception establishes rather than subverts the rule from which it is a deviation; but then there must be some proof that it is really an exception. Regarding the case of the dispersed disciples to which you have referred, I see no evidence in confirmation of its being a deviation from any fixed rule of government established within the pale of the church, because I find other cases reported which bear such a strong analogy to it, that I am compelled to believe that no absolute and undeviating regulations on this subject can be found in the New Testament. We find for example (Acts i. 26), that Matthias was chosen to the apostleship as the successor of Judas; but it does not appear from the record of the transaction, that he was ordained to this office by the other eleven apostles with whom he took rank. Again, the case of Paul is still more decisive against the Tractarian dogma that no one can preach or administer the sacraments with efficacy, unless he derive his official authority and power to do so from the apostles, or some one to whom they have delegated their authority and power. He assumed the designation of an apostle, and did the work of an apostle, some years before he saw any one of the twelve, acting as independently of them, as they did of him; and when they met at Jerusalem they did not require him to submit to ordination administered by them: and, at a subsequent period of his history, when he was called by the Holy Spirit (Acts xiii. 1-5) to go and preach the Word of God in the synagogues of the Jews in Seleucia and other places, he[34] was set apart to _this work_, not to _any office_, by _subordinate members_ of the church at Antioch, termed prophets and teachers, who, when they had fasted and prayed, and laid their hands on Paul and Barnabas, sent them away. These things occurred just when a new system of government was introduced into the church, that was to be perpetuated through all future ages. Here, then, we see pious laymen sallying forth and preaching in different places the Lord Jesus, with such power that many believed and turned unto him (Acts xi. 19-21); and we see also some holding the highest office in the Christian church without undergoing the ceremony of consecration by pre-existing officials, and yet these facts are recorded in Scripture without any notification that they are exceptions to fixed and absolute laws. Such a notification would have proved a decisive evidence in confirmation of such laws had they been established. We thus see that the plain, indisputable facts of the New Testament are in direct opposition to the high church principles of our Tractarians."

[34] If we suppose, with some of the Tractarians, that he was
now ordained to the _apostolic office_, then we have a series of
irregularities: he labours for years before he receives ordination,
and when he does receive it, it is not from the hands of _apostles_,
but some very _inferior officials_ connected with the church at
Antioch.

_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--"I have long maintained that this dogma of apostolical succession is an ecclesiastical monopoly which has no sanction from the Word of the Lord, and it is too selfish in its nature to harmonize with the free and generous spirit of the Christian dispensation. If it be the will of Jesus Christ, the supreme Legislator of his church, that no one shall preach the gospel or administer the sacraments with spiritual efficacy until he is ordained to the work by an apostle, or some bishop who can trace his lineal descent from an apostle with absolute certainty, how can such a restricted law as this be known unless he expressly enacts it either by an immediate revelation of his will, or through the medium of the inspired writers? No one pretends that an express revelation has ever been given in reference to such a restriction, and I have never been able to find an implied regulation in any chapter or verse of the New Testament. To say that we, and we exclusively, are the priests of the Lord, and, if you wish to be saved, you must intrust your souls to our ghostly power--that we, and we only, have the keys of the kingdom of heaven--that we open and shut by virtue of the authority delegated to us by St. Peter and St. Paul--is nothing less on the part of the Papal and Tractarian clergy than a monopoly of official authority and power, unsanctioned by the authority of Jesus Christ, and a subtle manoeuvre to magnify their own order. That a Papist should believe this, who is trained in the belief that the laws and regulations of his church are absolute and unchangeable, is not surprising; but that a Protestant should believe it, who has free access to his Bible, and been taught to hold its absolute and exclusive authority on all articles of faith and practice, is indeed a moral paradox which I cannot explain."

_Rev. Mr. Guion._--"Yes, Sir, it is a monopoly which has no sanction from Jesus Christ, the supreme Legislator in his church, and one which entails repulsive and fearful consequences. It compels its advocates to shun all Christian alliance with many of the excellent of the earth, and drives them into the closest connection with many who are moral miscreants, men of impurity, sceptics, and scoffers. Such men as Chalmers and Wardlaw, Robert Hall and William Jay, are branded as usurpers in the church, with whom it would be a sort of treason to associate, and whose ministrations must be denounced as a fatal curse to their deluded adherents, while those clergymen who have received the so-called apostolical ordination, however immoral they may be in conduct, or heterodox in teaching, are to be revered and obeyed as the true and faithful ministers of Jesus Christ. There is in all this something so repugnant to common-sense and Christian feeling--so derogatory to personal dignity and pure taste--and so calculated to excite the contempt of infidels against the whole clerical order, that I am astonished how any one who cherishes the slightest degree of reverence for the authority of Jesus Christ, or who has imbibed a particle of his pure and loving spirit, can submit to its dominion and governing power, especially when he is told that, _if he has not the spirit of Christ, he is none of his_."