spot; and then they extended their walk to a Roman camp, at a few
miles' distance--contriving to be back in time to dress for dinner.
On the following morning, Mr. Ryder, knowing that Miss Jane was
under a special engagement to meet an old friend, said at the
breakfast table, "I should like to take an excursion to town to-day,
if you young ladies will accompany me."
"I believe, Sir," said the facetious Jane, with an arch look and
significant nod and smile, "you know that I cannot go, which
possibly may make the excursion the more agreeable."
The carriage was ordered out; the excursion was taken; and an
apology was in readiness to be offered on their return for the
lateness of the hour. These, and many similar indications of a
mutual attachment, were too obvious to elude the notice of Mr. and
Mrs. Holmes, and therefore it excited no astonishment when Mr.
Ryder, one morning, with Mrs. Orme leaning on his arm, entered Mr.
Holmes' study, and requested his consent to their union. The old man
was so much delighted by this somewhat anticipated request, that
without hesitation, he replied, "I will most cheerfully give it;
and may the Lord bless you." At this moment Mrs. Holmes entered the
room, and joyfully expressed her concurrence in the proposed match,
which had already received the sanction of her husband.
After all the preliminaries were duly adjusted the wedding took
place; and the ceremony was conducted by the Dissenting clergyman
whom Mr. and Mrs. Holmes attended, and whose ministrations had
proved so great a source of consolation to Louisa, on the last
occasion that she was able to go to chapel.[43] In accordance with
the feelings, however, both of the bride and bridegroom, it was
resolved that there should be no public display or large assemblage
of guests, and that none but the most intimate friends on both
sides should be invited. The marriage was consequently a very quiet
proceeding; but though unattended by the public acclamations which
greeted that of Mr. and Mrs. Lewellin, it was nevertheless quite as
happy a one, both at the time of its celebration and in its results.
[43] Vol. ii. p. 440.
On the ceremony being completed, the married couple started for a
tour of a few weeks on the Continent, proceeding by Antwerp and
Brussels to the Rhine, thence passing through Switzerland to Geneva,
and then returning home through France, by Lyons and Paris. On
arriving at Southampton, to which they had crossed from Dieppe, they
proceeded on their journey to the west of England, and in the course
of a day or two arrived at Aston, where Miss Ryder had everything
ready for their reception. And now the reader may suppose that as I
have so satisfactorily disposed of Mrs. Orme, there remains nothing
more to be said of their friends at the Elms; but I have not yet
quite done with the family of the Holmes.
When a professor of religion renounces his faith, and goes off
into the world, we usually see, as in the case of Mr. Beaufoy,[44]
a most melancholy change in his character and in his habits. The
man of sobriety often becomes intemperate; the man of unsullied
moral character sometimes becomes a libertine; the habits of
domestic virtue and religion are broken up, and all is desolation
and misery. But when a sceptic embraces the faith of Christ, the
moral and social change is equally conspicuous; and it invariably
proves a personal and a relative blessing. Of this, a striking
exemplification occurs in the history of Mr. Gordon, Mr. Lewellin's
early friend. After he felt the renewing power of the grace of God,
the old things of evil, to which he had long addicted himself,
passed away, and he became a new creature in Christ Jesus--an
essentially different man, in taste, in principle, and in social
habits. He proved the genuineness of his conversion by the integrity
and consistency of his conduct in all the subsequent stages of his
career. In a letter which I received from him, some months after
he had passed from death to life, he said, "Though I cannot doubt
the reality of my spiritual renovation, and am compelled to ascribe
it to the sovereign grace of God, and though I am persuaded that
he will complete what he has begun, yet I deem it proper to let my
principles be fairly tested, before I make any avowed profession
of religion." On this resolution he acted. The first thing he did,
that bore the aspect of attachment to the Christian faith, was to
engage a pew in a church at Blackfriars', where the gospel was
preached in its purity; and he was very regular in his attendance.
And it so happened that his pew adjoined the one occupied by Mr.
William Holmes, the eldest son of my old friend; who now, along
with his brother Edward, carried on the business from which their
father had retired. Young Holmes was already slightly acquainted
with Mr. Gordon, having frequently heard of him from his sisters.
In consequence of their sitting so near each other in church they
frequently walked home together; a close intimacy sprung up between
them, and they often visited at each other's houses. The account of
Mr. Gordon's miraculous escape, and the marvellous change of mind
and character which immediately followed, naturally interested young
Holmes, and still more his family, who readily acceded to William's
proposal, that the next time he came to the Elms he should bring his
friend with him. Mr. Gordon was easily prevailed upon to accept the
invitation; and so favourable was the impression made by him on Mr.
and Mrs. Holmes, that he was requested to repeat his visit, and in
a short time became so intimate as gradually to be regarded as one
of the family. Many months had not elapsed before it was evident
that a deep reciprocal attachment had been formed between him and
Miss Jane, which at last terminated in a union, concluded under the
happiest auspices. After their marriage, Mr. and Mrs. Gordon went
to reside at Blackheath, where a few years afterwards I had the
pleasure of being their guest. They had then three fine children;
and though I have not seen either of them for some time, we still
keep up an occasional correspondence. I am also happy to be able to
say that after his marriage, Mr. Gordon became at once decided in
his profession of religion, endeavouring in all things to adorn the
doctrine of God his Saviour. His natural _hauteur_ was exchanged for
the meekness and gentleness of Christ; and he became as zealous in
the defence and diffusion of the faith once delivered to the saints,
as he had been in his hostility against it. He was much esteemed by
his Christian brethren, and so also was his wife, both of whom are
now advancing together to meet the grand crisis of their destiny,
without any dread of the final issue.
[44] Vol. ii. p. 240.
* * * * *
Some time after Mr. Ryder's return to Aston, I received a letter
from him giving me a sketch of his tour, and urging me to redeem
the promise I had given him to pay the wedding visit. As the autumn
was advancing, I resolved to go at once; and I spent two very
pleasant weeks with him, visiting my other friends at intervals. One
evening we had at Mr. Lewellin's a large gathering of some of the
most prominent personages of my narrative, including the Rev. John
Roscoe and his lady, the Rev. O. Guion, Mr. and Mrs. Stevens, and
Mrs. Roscoe. As soon as we were comfortably seated, with nothing to
do but to partake of our friend's hospitality, and enjoy the charm
of social fellowship, the Rev. Mr. Roscoe, addressing Mr. Guion,
said, "Can you, Sir, tell me anything about my old friends the
Misses Brownjohn? The last time I heard of them they were engaged
in a lawsuit about a fortune, to which they supposed themselves
entitled by the death of their nephew.[45] Did they succeed in
getting it?"
[45] Vol. i. p. 380.
"Yes, Sir; and it was, I believe, a very large property. They
started their carriage immediately afterwards."
"Do you know how they got over the difficulties occasioned by the
non-production of the register of their birth and baptism?"
"I don't know how they got over the legal difficulties; but the
other difficulty was not got over to Miss Susan's satisfaction for a
long time after she came into the possession of the property."
"You refer, I presume, to the omission of her name in the parish
registry, recording the fact of her regeneration?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Such a document," Mrs. John Roscoe remarked, "must be of immense
value in the estimation of an unregenerated Tractarian. No getting
into heaven without it! A parish registrar must be a very important
functionary in the estimation of these High Church devotees. If he
fail in his duty, alas! their hope of salvation vanishes--they are
left to die in despair."
"To solve her difficulties," continued Mr. Guion, "Miss Susan
applied to the bishop's secretary to lay her case before his
lordship for his opinion. The reply was to this effect: that as
she had taken the sacrament for many years, and had a distinct
recollection of having been confirmed, and a faint recollection of
her god-mother, it must be taken for granted that she was baptized.
But even this official opinion from the highest ecclesiastical
authority of the diocese, did not quite satisfy her, though her
sister, Miss Dorothy, often told her it ought; and gave it as her
opinion, that if there was any omission she was sure the Almighty
would overlook it."
"Against this, Miss Susan demurred. 'Take for granted what ought
to be positively certain! no, sister, I cannot do that.' She was
restless--ever going about from one aged person to another, in the
hopes of finding some one who would give her some information as
to her baptism. At length she found an old woman who recollected
hearing that her uncle Robert, who died young, used to be spoken
of in the family as her god-father. She followed up this clue,
and found a son of this uncle Robert, who, on looking through an
old account book, discovered the following entry:--'Paid for a
silver cup, given to my god-child, Susan Brownjohn, of Norton,
£3, 10s.' This cup she still had in her possession, bearing this
inscription:--'The gift of Robert Fenton.' This was hailed as an
unmistakeable evidence of her regeneration; and now she felt sure of
going to heaven when the Almighty took her from earth."
"How painfully absurd," said Mrs. John Roscoe, "to see an old lady
trotting about, without regarding wind or weather, in search of the
proof of her regeneration; or, in other words, of her title to the
kingdom of heaven! Are Miss Susan and Miss Dorothy still alive?"
"Miss Dorothy is; but Miss Susan has been dead for nearly a
twelvemonth. It is generally supposed that her death was hastened
by her anxieties and exertions about the legitimate proof of her
baptismal regeneration. When symptoms of decay became alarming, her
sister engaged a professional nurse to wait upon her--an intelligent
old woman, who afterwards gave me the following account of Miss
Susan's last days:--
"'The first time I saw her, she was in her own room, seated in a
high-backed arm-chair; the neatest room I ever saw-so clean, and
everything in such prim order. 'Now, Mrs. ----, Mrs. ----,' she said
to me, 'I forget your name, and therefore I shall call you Mrs.
Nurse, I am going to die, for Dr. Black told me when I asked him,
that he thought it probable that the Almighty was going to take me
to himself; and I suppose it must be so. Now, Mrs. Nurse, I have a
good many prayers to read; and a good deal to read out of this good
book, _The Whole Duty of Man_; and I like to get all my reading over
before tea, and then I can enjoy myself. You will now go out of my
room, and not come back till I ring, which, I suppose, will be in
about an hour's time.' However, the bell rung in about a quarter
of an hour, and Miss Dorothy and I entered the room together. 'I
can't,' she said to her sister, 'get through my reading so well as I
used to do. I get sleepy as soon as I begin. But I see the cup.'
"'O!' said Miss Dorothy, 'you are too scrupulous, dear sister; the
Almighty is sure to overlook it.'
"'I suppose he will; but I like to be particular. However, it's
a great comfort to me, to see the silver cup, the proof of my
baptismal regeneration; the thing necessary, you know, dear sister,
to fit us for heaven. I would not part with it for another fortune
from the Indies.'
"'I saw,' said the old nurse, 'a little old-fashioned silver cup on
the mantel-piece, on which she often looked with evident emotions of
pleasure: but I could not divine the reason, till one day she gave
me a detailed history of the whole matter. She then asked me whether
I was baptized at the church; and whether I had satisfied myself
that it was duly entered in the church register; assuring me, that
unless it was, I stood no chance of going to heaven. At length,'
continued the old woman, 'the crisis came.'
"'I suppose,' said Dr. Black to her, after examining her pulse
very carefully, 'you would like to take the sacrament, before the
Almighty takes you to himself?'
"'To be sure I should, Doctor; our Church appoints it.'
"'Shall I request your Rector, Mr. Guion, to call?'
"'To be sure not, Doctor. I never have had anything to do with the
Evangelicals while living, and they shan't come near me when dying.
No, no, Doctor; I'll keep to the clergy of the proper order--the
clergy of our fathers.'
"'Very good, Madam; I know your predilections.'
"'Yes, Doctor; and my antipathies.'
"'The day and hour was fixed, and old Mr. Johnson, from Ottersley,
came to administer the sacrament; and Miss Susan was dressed for the
occasion, propped up with pillows in her high-backed arm-chair. Soon
after the ceremony was over, I saw,' said the old nurse, 'a change,
and I knew death was coming; Miss Dorothy was standing by her side.'
'I feel,' she remarked, 'a queer sensation coming over me. Give me
a glass of water;' but she expired when in the act of attempting to
take the tumbler into her hand.'"
What a melancholy contrast this presents to the death of the pious
cottager, Mrs. Allen![46]
[46] Vol. i. p. 187.
* * * * *
I was happy to hear from Mrs. John Roscoe, that the ministry of
her husband and his pious Curate was working moral wonders amongst
his parishioners. The church was uniformly crowded with attentive
hearers; the people flocked to it from distant villages and
hamlets. "But, Sir," she added, "my husband has to pay the usual
tax which is levied on all who distinguish themselves by their
zeal and energy, in exposing the absurdity and fatal tendency of
the popular superstitions, and trying to win souls to Christ. 'The
most favourable construction I can put on his conduct,' said an
old clergyman, in a large party, 'is this--he is a little beside
himself.' I immediately replied, 'It would be, reverend Sir, a great
advantage to many of your parishioners, if you also were a little
beside yourself; and then they would stop at home, and attend your
ministrations, instead of having to walk three or four miles every
Sabbath to hear my husband.' This startled him, as he did not know
that I was present. He then endeavoured to eke out an apology, which
he would have been much wiser to have let alone."
* * * * *
I was sorry to hear that my old friend Farmer Pickford had sustained
an injury by the slip of the ladder on which he was standing when
lopping a tree, and that he had been confined to his bed some
weeks. On seeing me enter his room, he stretched forth his hand, and
said, "I thought, Sir, you would give me a bit of a call, like. I am
main glad to see you. Here I am, the Lord's prisoner. I would rather
be the Lord's prisoner than the devil's free man, and no mistake."
"I hope the injury you have sustained is not likely to prove a
lasting one."
"Why, as for that, I can't say. But now and tan I think I shall
never be the man I was. I shall never be able to dig and trench, and
mow and thrash, as when I was a youngster. And, at my time of life,
I can't expect it. I am sixty-five come October. I tell you what,
Sir, I see mercy mixed up with this affliction; and, as one of the
Psalms says, I can sing of mercy and judgment. What a mercy that my
neck was not broken; and that I had no broken bones. I never felt
my heart so full of gratitude on going into my homestead as I did
the morning when I was brought in on the hurdle. I couldn't help
shedding some tears, like. The Lord be praised."
"Then you do not murmur, or feel disquieted?"
"No, no, Sir; not I. I an't going to commit that sin. I have had
much comfort while lying on this bed, and no mistake. My mistress
comes and sits by my side, and reads God's precious Book to me. I
get main fond of the Psalms: they are like upland springs, they
refresh my soul at once, like. And she comes, after church, on a
Sunday, and talks over the sarmunts she hears there; and they come
home to my heart. And Harry often comes, when he has struck off
work, and he reads a bit, and gives the meaning of it, in his plain
way, and what he says comes to my heart. So you see, Sir, I have
many mercies mixed up with this affliction."
"Well, Farmer, I am happy to find that you are still holding on your
way to the kingdom of heaven, and are full of peace and hope as you
move onwards."
"Why, Sir, I hope you didn't think I should turn back, when you
were gone. Turn back to the world and sin! and turn my back on the
precious Saviour, who had compassion on, and rescued me when I was
a lost sinner! No, Sir; I would rather be hacked to death first, and
no mistake. But I mustn't feel boastful. I don't keep myself. No.
The Lord is my keeper. I mind a sarmunt Mr. Ingleby preached one
Sunday morning. It made me strongish in faith, like; I got the text
by heart before I took dinner, and I can say it, without missing
a word--'And I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never
perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand' (John x.
28)."
"The Psalmist says, 'It hath been good for me that I have been
afflicted;' and I suppose, Farmer, you can say the same?"
"Yes, Sir, I can, and no mistake. I am main glad for this
affliction. It gives me a bit of breathing time, like; I can think
over spiritual matters now I am in this quiet room, better than
I could while busy at the farm work. It's all right. The Lord be
praised."
"You expect, I suppose, that you shall soon get about again?"
"Why, as for that, I can't say. I have a main liking for this room.
It is so quiet, and my thoughts now and tan be so delightsome. It's
true I have had a power of pain and suffering, but this has been
overtopped by heart's ease and spiritual rejoicings. I can say, what
my mistress read out of the blessed book, 'The Lord has made my bed
in my affliction.' And here I am, willing to lie still or get up, to
suffer longer or go to farm work, just as the Lord pleases. I a'nt
much mindful about it."
"I suppose, Farmer, you have thought sometimes during your
confinement, about your departure from earth, to be with Christ?"
"Aye, that's it, and no mistake. T'other night, when I was thinking
a bit about dying and going into t'other world, I wondered how
I should feel when looking at Jesus Christ for the first time,
and what I should say to him, and what he would say to me. These
thinkings came to and again, with such power, that tears streamed
out of my eyes, and no mistake; and I wept on, till I fell asleep."
"He will appear in his glory, when he comes to receive you to
himself; and it will be a glory very brilliant, yet it won't dazzle
or confound you, as your power of vision will be equal to the
grandeur of the spectacle."
"What a marvellous wonder that he should ever take a bit of a liking
to such a wicked fellow as I was! But it's just like him. When he
was here, he looked out for the chief of sinners; after them that
are lost. I a'nt forgot your sarmunt in the barn about Zaccheus. I
shall think of it when I am in heaven, if I should ever get there,
as I hope I shall. And I shall have a bit of wish to see him, as he
had to see Jesus Christ, when he got up into the sycamore tree."
I was much gratified by finding him in such a heavenly frame of
mind--so patient under his sufferings, so resigned to the Divine
will, so joyful in hope, and so strong in faith. I read a chapter,
making a few explanatory remarks, prayed with him, and left him; but
he would not let me go without a promise that I would see him again.
On my next visit, I saw Mrs. Pickford, who appeared the picture of
grief. She wept, and said--"My dear husband has been very ill the
last two days, and in very great pain; I fear the Lord is going to
take him from me. However, I have the consolation of knowing, that
he has taken refuge in the ark of safety; he cleaves to the dear
Redeemer with all his heart. It is quite wonderful to hear how he
talks about the love of Christ; about feeling its power on his soul;
and about seeing him, and being made like him."
I went into his room, shook hands with him, and had a long
conversation. When speaking of the Saviour coming, in the spiritual
manifestations of his presence, to comfort and animate his disciples
in the chamber of affliction, or when entering death's dark vale,
he interrupted me by a burst of natural eloquence, which greatly
delighted us--"I can speak to the truth of what you say. He does
come and comfort my heart. I have had more heart-rejoicings in
this room, than I ever had at church or chapel, when hearkening to
sarmunts, and that is saying a great deal. My soul has been taken
up to the third heaven, and though I have not seen Jesus Christ
with my bodily eyes as Paul did, yet I have felt the sweetness of
his love--the preciousness of his love, and no mistake. I say to
my wife, I say to my children, I say to my servants, and all my
neighbours, Take refuge in Christ, the living ark of safety, to save
you from the wrath to come; and love him with all your hearts, and
then when you die, He will come and comfort you, as he comes and
comforts me. I beg pardon, Sir, for stopping you, but I couldn't
hold no longer. My heart was too full."
* * * * *
It is now a long time since I was last at Fairmount; but I
frequently correspond with Mr. Stevens and Mr. Lewellin, and hear
how matters are going on in that part of the country, of which,
though not my native place, I may truly say, from the pleasing
associations connected with it, in the words of Horace--
"Ille terrarum mibi præter omnes
Angulus ridet."
My friends Mr. and Mrs. Stevens continue as formerly in the
enjoyment of good health and spirits, and though advanced in years,
are still active in promoting the religious and moral improvement
of the villagers in their neighbourhood. Mr. and Mrs. Lewellin have
now a young family growing up about them; and Rockhill is quite the
admiration of the country round for the great improvements effected
on it by Mr. Lewellin, who, by diligent perseverance, and the
valuable services of his bailiff, Harry Pickford, has become quite a
scientific farmer. Mr. and Mrs. Ryder are very happy, with two sweet
children, a boy and a girl, and a constant interchange of visits
is kept up with Rockhill and Fairmount. Miss Ryder still lives
with them; but it is doubtful whether this will be the case much
longer, at least it is currently reported in the village that Mr.
Hartley, the Rector of Aston, is shortly to lead her to the altar, a
statement which receives some corroboration, from the circumstance
that the Rector has lately been getting his house repaired and newly
furnished. Mrs. Roscoe, shortly after her husband's death, took up
her abode with her daughter and son-in-law, where she receives
every attention and kindness, and looks tranquilly forward to
joining her beloved husband in a better world.
My old friend Farmer Pickford, after being confined for nearly
twelve months, gradually regained his health and his physical
energy, and is now become a hale old man, and has every prospect of
attaining a patriarchal age. A few months since I received from him
a basket of game, with the following characteristic note:--
"REVEREND SIR,--As you have left off honouring my wife's
cookery, she and I have been thinking that you would like to
taste a bit of our game in your own house. I shot the hares,
and Harry killed the partridges and the snipes. They are quite
fresh--all killed yesterday. We hope they will come safe. I am
happy to say that all's well at the homestead. We get a good
sarmunt now and tan, in the kitchen. I hope we shall all meet in
heaven, and no mistake.--Yours devoutly,
JOHN AND MARTHA PICKFORD."