Transcribed from the 1882 G. S. Cook edition by David Price, email
ccx074@pgaf.org
[Picture: Book cover]
_Spes tutissima Cælis_.
* * * * *
Interesting Incidents
_Connected with the Life of_
GEORGE BICKERS,
_Originally a Farmer’s Parish Apprentice at_
_Laxfield_, _in Suffolk_, _but now_
RESIDING IN OULTON,
_In the same County_,
_Being an_
AUTOBIOGRAPHY
_Of the above_,
From 1809 to 1881,
_Inclusive_.
* * * * *
_All Rights of Re-production reserved_
* * * * *
Lowestoft:
G. S. Cook, Nelson Printing Works.
[Picture: Photograph of George Bickers]
THE writer of these pages was born at Laxfield, a village in the County
of Suffolk, on the 16th day of January, 1809, the forty-eighth year of
our good King George the Third’s happy reign. That eventful day was to
me the commencement of a long and sometimes tedious journey: oftimes I
have had to encounter great perils and dangers, but out of all the Lord
hath delivered me.
That eventful day witnessed the closing career of a great British
General, Sir John Moore, at Corunna, a seaport of Spain, whither he had
gone to take the command of the English forces, in order, if possible, to
relieve that unhappy country, then being sorely harassed by the armies of
Napoleon I., under the command of the Duke of Dalmatia (Marshall Soult),
but the campaign proved a failure, resulting in the death of the
Commander-in-Chief, and the re-embarkation of the troops, with a loss of
about eight hundred of our countrymen, Soult being more than a match for
the valour of British arms on that memorable and trying occasion. But
France was destined to be humbled, and six years later on, Napoleon and
his generals felt the weight of British prowess at Waterloo.
I was the second son of my parents, Benjamin and Charlotte, poor, but
industrious people, my father being an agricultural labourer: and, having
but a slender income, yet felt a wish their children should acquire a
little education, which might prove useful to them in their future
stations in life under which they might be called.
When about four years of age, while one day playing in the road with
other children, near my father’s cottage, there happened to be a horse,
belonging to a miller of the name of Heffer, quietly feeding. Being then
(as since) very forward in mischief, I threw my cap at the quiet
creature, and then must needs go too near its heels to pick it up; the
sad consequence was I was kicked on the head, and my right eye nearly
perished, but, under the skilful treatment of Mr. Alling, a surgeon in
the village, my eyesight was preserved, and, although I am writing more
than sixty years later on, yet the scar still remains, and also the seam
in the bone is still perceptible. But what of the poor horse? He came
to grief very soon after, as one day being loose in the stable, and the
master, going in to take him some food, omitted to shut the door, the
horse ran out, and, before the man could recover him, he was struck by
one of the sails of the windmill, and was killed thereby. This accident
reminded the owner of that dangerous machine that it would be much better
to raise it higher, which was soon after accomplished. And, perhaps, I
may be permitted to observe that, by the kind care of a watchful and
loving Jehovah, my life was preserved; and, in looking back, can praise
the Lord for His goodness, and for the care extended unto me at this, the
beginning of my journey of a long life.
The time had now arrived when school must be attended, and my first
schoolmaster was Mr. Benjamin Chenery, at that time clerk and sexton of
the parish, and was no ways sparing of the heads and backs of his pupils,
but we hope, on the whole, he followed a rightful course, for he had in
his vocation many grave and solemn duties to perform, both as to the
interment of the aged, as also the education and training of the young.
Under the care and tuition of Benjamin, I first learned to read, to write
upon a slate, and do little sums, after having mastered the figures.
Easy spelling also came on, as a matter of course; and there was no lack
of errands to perform, as well for the mistress as the master, and I
occasionally assisted in sweeping up the church, the chancel being
occupied as a schoolroom during the summer season, when fire was not
needed, as the master was not usually at a loss to supply a warming.
The churchyard, too spacious as it was, proved a most excellent
playground; there were plain spaces for marbles and tops, piers and
buttresses for hide-and-seek; graves, and stones, and tombs, to jump over
and jump from, without any restriction, and readily did we unite in these
healthful exercises, however dangerous or mischievous they might be in
other respects.
There was another school near, kept by Mr. John Goodwin; the pupils were
more advanced, some being farmers’ sons. That being a free school, yet
the master was allowed to take private pupils. Females, also, were
instructed, having a room to themselves opposite the master’s desk,
called the “Ladies’ Room.” The boys at those schools were not allowed to
play together, the smaller ones possessing the protection of the sacred
enclosure, which was at the larger ones’ peril to invade. We could see
them at their play, as we looked through the openings of the gate; and
there was sometimes displayed a germ of hostility among the youthful
students.
In attending this school I was taught to read, and also easy spelling, as
before observed; then came little sums in addition, subtraction, and
multiplication. I soon became able to read in class; we daily read the
Psalms from the book of Common Prayer. We did not have bible reading at
this school, as many families at that time did not possess the sacred
volume, my parents being among that number; but our immediate neighbours
were in possession of a bible, and were always willing to lend it to my
parents of an evening, and the owners, being aged people, would often
invite me to stand and read to them from their bible, of Adam and Eve, of
Noah, of Abraham, and Lot, of Isaac and Jacob, and also that remarkable
narrative of Joseph and his brethren. These exercises were to me helps
in the right direction. My master found I was getting on, and set me to
read to him pieces from history, principally from Goldsmith’s “Vicar of
Wakefield.” The closing paragraph of the 7th chapter I will here insert,
because, although more than sixty years have rolled away, yet I well
remember the concluding sentences. Here is a sample:—
“My wife now kept up the conversation, though not the argument. She
observed that several prudent men of our acquaintance were
freethinkers, and made very good husbands. And she knew some
sensible girls that had skill enough to make converts of their
spouses. ‘And who knows, my dear,’ continued she, ‘what Olivia may
be able to do? The girl has a great deal to say upon every subject,
and to my knowledge is very skilled in controversy.’ ‘Why, my dear,
what controversy can she have read?’ cried I. ‘It does not occur to
me that I have ever put such books into her hands; you certainly
overrate her merit.’ ‘Indeed, papa,’ replied Olivia, ‘she does not.
I have read a great deal of controversy. I have the disputes between
Thwackum and Square, the controversy between Robinson Crusoe and
Friday, the savage, and I am now employed in reading the controversy
in ‘Religious Courtship.’’ ‘Very well,’ I cried I, ‘that’s a good
girl; I find you are perfectly qualified for making converts, and so
go help your mother to make the gooseberry-pie.’”
And the master added, “you shall have a piece _on’t_, mister, when it be
enough.” I had wondered a hundred times in what book the above passage
could be found. At length the discovery was made, and now the concluding
portion of the 17th chapter, together with the verses—six of them—have
passed through my mind, in the absence of something better, a great many
times:—
“‘It was within about four days of her (Olivia’s) intended nuptials
that my little family, at night, were gathered around a charming
fire, telling stories of the past, and laying schemes for the future,
busied in forming a thousand projects, and laughing at whatever folly
came uppermost.’ ‘Well, Moses, my boy, we shall soon have a wedding
in our family; what is your opinion of matters and things in
general?’ ‘My opinion is, father, that all things go on very well,
and I was just now thinking that when sister Livy is married to
Farmer Williams, we shall then have the loan of his cider-press and
brewing tubs for nothing.’ ‘That we shall, Moses,’ cried I, ‘and he
will sing us ‘_Death_ and the _Lady_’ to raise our spirits into the
bargain.’ ‘He has taught that song to our Dick,’ cried Moses, ‘and I
think he goes through it very prettily.’ ‘Does he so?’ cried I,
‘then let’s have it. Where is little Dick? Let him up with it
boldly.’ ‘My brother Dick,’ cried Bill, my youngest, ‘is just gone
out with sister Livy, but Mr. Williams has taught me two songs, and
I’ll sing them for you, papa. Which song do you choose, ‘The Dying
Swan,’ or ‘The Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog?’ ‘The elegy, child,
by all means,’ said I. ‘I never heard that yet, and Deborah, my
life, grief you know is dry; let us have a bottle of the best
gooseberry wine to keep up our spirits. I have wept so much at all
sorts of late that, without an enlivening glass, I am sure this would
overcome me, and Sophy, love, take your guitar, and thrum in with the
boy a little.”
This is then the sample of the taste of a master store the mind of a
young scholar; but we must have the “Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog:”
THE ELEGY, ETC.
Good people all, of every sort, give ear unto my song,
And if you find it won’drous short, it cannot hold you long.
In Islington there was a man, of whom the world might say
That still a godly race he ran whene’er he went to pray.
A kind and gentle heart he had, to comfort friend and foe,
The naked every day he clad, when he put on his clothes;
And in that town a dog was found, as dogs there many be,
Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, and curs of low degree.
This dog and man at first were friends, but when a pique began,
The dog, to gain some private ends, went mad and bit the man;
Around, from all the neighbo’ring streets, the wond’ring neighbours
ran,
And swore the dog had lost his wits to bite so good a man.
The wound it seemed both sore and sad to every Christian eye,
And while they said the dog was mad, they said the man would die;
But soon a wonder came to light, that showed the rogues they lied,
The man recovered of the bite—the dog it was that died.
The master did not attempt to enlighten me. At the close of the elegy,
he merely observed as approval, “Oh, the dog died, did he, mister?” But
no doubt Oliver Goldsmith could see something underlying its surface, as
there were then political dogs in Islington, whose virulent bites were
very painful; surely also, are there to be found elsewhere in our day.
My neighbours were farmers on a small scale: they had a son to whom I was
much attached. They kept several cows, and a horse named Depper. She
was a useful creature, having carried me many miles. I could spend many
half-days with Depper, instead of being at school, and I believe those in
charge liked my company, so that the time passed away. I had often
little jobs to perform for the old people which sometimes brought me a
meal of good food; at other times a good farmer’s cake, which was always
a luxury; and I had charge of the cows when they were fed in the lanes
and roads. This brought a few pence to my parents, so much needed in
those days of low wages—about eight or nine shillings per week when
labourers made full time.
It would have been a curious sight in our day, as then, to see the old
couple mounted upon Depper’s back, when they were going out to see
friends. A light cart was a scarce article in those days with small
occupiers (my neighbours had only a tumbril as a carriage); an appliance
called a pillion was fastened upon the rump of the horse, and secured to
the saddle, the greatest difficulty being to mount and dismount; but that
difficulty was overcome.
I have not yet done with my old friend Benjamin; perhaps he did not
trouble about my being absent for a week or two, if I did not return a
bigger dunce. He usually had some of that class to try his patience. He
appointed me many jobs, more to my mind than studying in the school. The
town clock required to be wound up, the dial of which was at an elevation
of about fifty feet, adorning the south side of the old tower, with its
four neat pinnacles. I was appointed often to wind up the weights of
that clock: the larger weight requiring the power of two boys, with a
crank as large as a grindstone. Then, again, at funerals, the master
would set me to toll the church bell, the rope being so fixed upon its
tongue that an easy jerk would cause it to strike against the bell’s
side, instructions being given that when the procession arrived, and at a
signal from the master, ten strokes were to be given in quick succession,
and then immediately to cease. Then, again, after the funeral service
was over, the grave had to be filled in by willing hands, which was after
a time accomplished, the implements being afterwards stowed away, and
thus ended the school service of another day.
Four schoolboys were usually selected to convey the funeral bier to the
late residence of the deceased, sometimes half-a-mile or more distant.
Regardless of the solemnity of the occasion, we enjoyed the outing, and
were not in a very great hurry to return to our studies; and perhaps the
master did not trouble that we should, for I do not remember to have
heard him express much sorrow or inconvenience respecting the absentees.
I continued to attend Benjamin’s school until I was about ten years of
age; at that time my parents thought they would like me to attend the
larger school, that my education might be forwarded thereby. I learnt
the inscription on the fly-leaf of master’s book, which I had often read
through. I could not remember the title. The lines were these:
Whose book I am, if you wish to know,
By letters two I will you show;
The first is B, to all men’s sight,
The next is C, to spell it right;
But if you chance to spell amiss,
Look underneath, and here it is:
BENJAMIN CHENERY.
Farewell! to my first schoolmaster, and gooseberry-pie book.
It was not very long before a vacancy occurred in the larger school, and
I was elected to fill up the gap. I felt somewhat timid, but that soon
wore off. I was placed at a desk with others, and had soon to go in for
sums in earnest. All had to be worked out on a slate, and, when passed
as correct, had to be set down in a book. This was our morning work;
afternoon we had Bible-reading in class, spelling, and afterwards writing
with ink in copy book. There was a very patient usher of the name of
George Bilney; but he was not there long after I joined the school. The
discipline here was more stringent; each free scholar had to wear a badge
of distinction, a school cap, to be worn every Sunday, and to be present
at church, two seats being set apart for the boys of this school, under
the supervision of the master and his usher; and all absentees had to
give a satisfactory account on Monday mornings of the why’s and the
wherefore’s, or feel the weight of the cane in the master’s hand, however
distasteful it might be.
At this school I made progress; we were allowed to use “Walkingame’s
Tutor’s Assistant;” a great deal could be learnt from this useful work.
Said tables on Fridays, and also Church Catechism, with hard and
difficult spelling at the close thereof, and the first three boys were
rewarded with a ticket each. Often heavy tasks were awarded for
disobedience, and, altogether, the general routine was one of forced
vigilance, obedience, and activity, as no trifling was permitted during
school hours.
After a few months my being in this school, Mr. Bilney, the usher left,
and his place was subsequently filled by Mr. Benjamin Moulton, who
afterwards followed the occupation of an auctioneer and valuer, at
Woodbridge, in this county. I wrote to that gentleman in 1878, enquiring
if he was the same B. M. whom I had previously known at Mr. Goodwin’s
school. He returned an answer, thanking me for the enquiry, that he was
the same; that he was now about seventy years of age; that his health was
fair; and that there was at least one of the old scholars who had thought
about him; but said, also, he never much liked the situation, so he did
not much regret leaving the village and its associations.
I attended at this school about one year and a half. There were a better
class of pupils (farmer’s sons) on the Opposition benches, who were
instructed in the higher rudiments, such as land surveying, mapping,
printing, English grammar. “English Reader,” “Introduction,” and
“Speaker” were books not prohibited to the free boys, and, for one, I was
very fond of reading them at every opportunity, for we had the range of
the school from twelve o’clock till two, when all could play outside in
fine weather very comfortably together, regardless of station in life, as
two in the same school were my future young masters.
I continued to improve in the acquisition of knowledge, as there taught,
from Multiplication of Integers to Money, and so on, as in subsequent
rules; Division short and long, Reduction, Practice, and “Rule of Three,”
all requiring close attention to bring a “Good” mark, implying the
approval of the master or usher before any sum was allowed to be entered
in the book, and even that was a tedious operation. There must be no
mistakes, no blots, nor any smearing on the surface; when the master came
round, the cane accompanied him, and sad woes were inflicted on the
careless, which were not soon forgotten.
But it came to be desired that I should begin to work more closely, and
earn my support, for most likely it was thought that a little help in
that direction was, no doubt, very needful, and being a final decision, I
left the school in that eventful year, 1820, and forthwith I soon found
my destiny was “buckle to work.” I have said “eventful” year, in proof
whereof here is an extract from the _Evangelical Magazine_ of that
year:—“George III. died at Windsor Castle, on the 29th January, 1820 in
his 82nd year. His son, the Duke of Kent, expired a few days previous,
at Sidmouth, in Devonshire, in the 53rd year of his age, leaving an
infant daughter—our good and virtuous Queen.” Long may she reign.
The way is now apparently open for the Prince Regent to occupy the
throne, but the perplexing domestic troubles occupied the lawyers and
barristers more than twelve months ere the ground could be anything like
cleared; but the road in which I was destined to travel was not so
mystified. A master was found for me, in the person of Mr. Simon Smyth,
of Ubbeston, farmer. I was employed in hoeing, weeding corn, picking
grass, and such-like jobs. I was there ten weeks, or about half that
summer, and more happy was I than the Prince Regent. My next master was
Mr. Robert Scace, of Laxfield, farmer, and was employed, first keeping
sheep, then working in the hay field, and other odd jobs which might
present themselves to my notice. I got on nicely with Mr. Scace, and
after the hay season was told that I might continue on, and board in the
house during the harvest, and have the same amount of money weekly. I
was glad to hear that, and never found it a source of regret to anyone.
Those were cheerful seasons to both men and boys, and for my own part I
felt that I was advanced to a post of honour when entrusted with the
commands of a horse or two, and was no longer compelled to go about the
fields gleaning, which occupation I so much disliked. There was but one
son in this family, but he had to work in harvest-time, and bend down
with the sickle, as with that instrument the wheat-crop was reaped in
those days, and it was my lot to assist Master Robert, when he sought a
little rest. He was a little older than myself, being born in 1806. He
lived near my parents’ dwelling, and I was often allowed to play with him
before we began to work. His was but a short course. I have since read
in Laxfield Churchyard, near the porch, upon a stone, this inscription:
ROBERT BULLOCK SCACE,
Born September 17th, 1806;
Died March 30th, 1853.
How quickly the four dozen years passed away!
The joyful harvest being completed, it was arranged that I should be
further detained to keep pigs and other stock in the fields from off
which the corn had been taken. This employment I was engaged in for
several weeks, being always supplied with a good dinner on each Sunday,
sent to the field from the farmer’s table, which was very much enjoyed
and welcomed, these and such-like comforts which came to me on the Day of
Rest.
I know not how long I might have continued here, but Michaelmas drew on,
and it was agreed that I should go into service, at a farm-house in the
parish. This did not give to me at first a very favourable impression,
but undoubtedly it was the right way into a “city of habitation.”
Thenceforth, on the 11th day of October, 1820. I was received into the
family of Mr. John Garrard, of Laxfield, to be trained and disciplined as
a veritable farmer’s boy, and held myself ready to obey any instructions
and orders that might be presented. My training commenced, I did not at
all dislike my new acquaintances, and after a few days felt quite at home
in my new position. There was plenty of work, plenty of food, and a
goodly supply of company.
The family consisted of the master, mistress, four sons, and five
daughters. There were also a man-servant, a maid servant, and myself.
Later on there came into the family a nephew, who was called Jonathan,
and frequently the master called him “Jonter.” His father was brother to
the master, and having died April 22nd, 1811, aged 29 years, left him and
a sister to the frowns of an ungodly world, as also to the care of their
mother, who removed from Laxfield, to a place called Hartley Row, in the
county of Hants, there to revive old associations or to form new ones,
and in those engagements it did seem Jonathan could be spared from his
mother, then being about sixteen years of age when he came to live with
his uncle.
As regards myself, my business was to do what every one of the others
left undone, and bear the blame for all; but was so far favoured, there
was a standing rule that no stripes were to be administered but by the
hands of the master, so that, on the whole, amongst bulls and cows, pigs
and sows, children and chickens, and other bipeds, and quadrupeds, I was
not very lonely, and sometimes felt, after having to endure some pain and
privation, occasioned by the terrible sharp wintry storms that prevailed,
I could go on my way rejoicing.
Things went on, as far as I could observe, pretty easy. The
establishment was a hive of industry; all that were able must work, and
good it was for us to be superintended by a good and careful master and
mistress. About this time, the eldest son, John, was married, and left
us. The second son, George, was bound apprentice to Mr. Kent, of
Beetles, a brazier and tin-plate worker. The maid-servant was discharged
at the next coming Michaelmas, and I had to learn to milk the cows, and
carry the milk into the dairy, and empty it into the places assigned for
its reception. Two of the daughters, Emma and Caroline, were now
requested to assist their mother in the duties of the house, while the
three youngest daughters and youngest son, Jesse, were continued at
school, so being prepared to occupy the vacant places when the elder ones
left.
But we must have a word or two respecting the new king, George IV. He
had been so proclaimed in London and the provinces, but by reason of
unhappy differences subsisting between the king and his royal consort, a
fixed aversion and a formal separation had taken place. He had ordered
her name to be struck off the Liturgy when Princess of Wales!
It was said she had raised a favourite Italian, in her employ, from an
humble station, to one of honour; had instituted a new order of
knighthood called the Order of St. Caroline; had decorated this person
with the insignia of that order, and had in other respects acted in a
manner unbecoming a British princess, which brought upon her the
continued displeasure of the king. He ordered evidence to be taken
against her, and it was determined she should be brought to trial by the
peers of the realm. This trial, which lasted fifty-three days, being
ended, violent debates took place in the House of Lords on the principle
of the Bill, and the proposed measure of depriving the queen, of her
title, prerogatives, rights, and privileges, formally abandoned. This
was hailed as a complete acquittal by her friends, and was celebrated as
such by public rejoicings and illuminations, reaching my parish.
But the King’s anger was not appeased. The 19th day of July, 1821, was
the day fixed for the coronation service. It was said to have been a
magnificent ceremony, surpassing anything that had ever occurred on
former occasions. But the queen, who had repeatedly applied to have a
place appointed for her to see the ceremony, on going to the Abbey was
refused admittance by the door-keepers, they not daring to let anyone
pass who had not a coronation ticket. Thus mortified and humbled, she
returned to her house, and the impression it made on her mind was never
eradicated. Harassed by severe and bitter trials, she was seized with a
sudden illness, which baffled the skill of her physicians, and on the 7th
August she breathed her last, being in the fifty-fourth year of her age,
her body being conveyed to Brunswick, and deposited in the vault of her
ancestors.
But, perhaps, the narration of those circumstances would seem to be a
digression, yet they are to my mind full of interest, and so closely
interwoven among my early associations that I cannot easily pass over
them. I well remember the exhibition which took place in my native
village. On one of the large painted pictures was displayed a figure of
the queen in her robes, and beneath was the brilliant motto,
“Regina” still, in spite of them,
Here then we rest. The universal cause
Acts to one end, but acts by various laws;
Let this great truth be present night and day,
But most be present if we preach or pray.
POPE’S _Essay on Man_.
There was nearly as much for me to do on a Sunday, during the winter
season, as on other days; the cattle must be fed; turnips within, and
straw without, must be placed ready for the cows to eat, and the fat pigs
were to be attended to, of which there was a good number, but sometimes I
had an opportunity of going to chapel, on an afternoon, when my work was
forward; and there were reading services in the family on Sunday
evenings, implying there was a desire to serve and obey the true and
living God.
Thus much for a beginning. I soon learned to drive the tumbril, the
harrow, the roller, and the wagon, and was, perhaps, nearly as useful as
was expected to be; and on one occasion the master made me draw a furrow
across a field with a pair of horses, he following, and pronounced
himself satisfied with the result.
During my sojourn here, I was several times mercifully preserved from
death. On one occasion I was driving a loaded tumbril from the yard,
where it was filled, to the manure heap, about a quarter-of-a mile on the
road, and then on to the meadow. A horse which I was using, a wild young
creature, annoyed by the flies, started off as soon as I got upon his
back. I was quite powerless, and lost all control over him. He went at
full gallop straight home, and though a cart shed, that was standing by
the road-side, having beams across, and so constructed that there was
little height more than was required for an empty wagon. I pressed my
head down as low as I could, and the interposing mercy of my God
preserved me, or I should have been dashed to pieces. The horse ran
quite through, and then stopped as if by magic. The men came out of the
yard, seeing the danger, and expected to have seen me killed, or
seriously injured; but neither myself nor the horse suffered any harm. I
did not think much about it at the time, but I have many times looked
back with a thankful heart.—“Thou shalt remember all the way the Lord thy
God hath led thee.”
Another instance of great danger I will relate. One summer’s morning,
being ordered to fetch the cows from the meadow, amongst them being a
furious bull, I found on my arrival that one of the cows had calved
during the night, close to which the dangerous male had taken up a
position. I hastened home with the rest, and told the master what I had
seen. It was considered that if I had attempted to drive him he might
have killed me. The master directed me to take the barrow, and he would
go with me to the meadow, and take with him a hay-fork. We went and
found them as I have stated, and no sooner had I placed the barrow near
the bull than the infuriated creature at once drove at me, and knocked me
down, but the master beat him off, and I was thus preserved from further
danger at that time, and escaped unharmed.
At another time, later on, the same beast attacked me in the cow-yard,
drove me against the faggots, and had got me completely in his power. My
peril was witnessed by Josh Miles, who was thrashing in a barn. He came
with his flail—a very formidable instrument—and the beast fled
immediately, and leaped over a high gate like a hunting horse, and then
looked about him for the next point of attack. These, then, are some of
the deliverances extended unto me by the great and unceasing favour of my
God, for the which I desire to be devoutly thankful.
I am unable to enumerate all the dangers from which I have been
providentially delivered. That same horse which ran away with me kicked
me afterwards in the side, but my hand caught the blow, and thus warded
off serious injury. I was accustomed to have one-footed kicks from the
cows, but found the horse struck out with more effect. Another peril
was: As myself and one of my young masters (Suffolk) were scarifying a
pea-stubble field we had two horses at length, and took turns, one to
ride on the scarifier, and the other to drive the horses. We were going
on very cheerful and comfortable, when, suddenly, something distasted the
fore horse, and it came round to where I was sitting, and was entangled
among the counters with the horse’s feet. In the fright and the danger
we had some little difficulty to extricate the poor horse, but we did
accomplish it. I escaped with a few slight scratches on my hands and
legs, and what was better the horse was not much hurt, so that ultimately
we were able to accomplish our work, and to give an account of our mishap
to the master, without incurring much blame. Here, again, I feel good
cause for thankfulness that I was so mercifully preserved, so that—
“I muse on the years that are past,
Wherein my defence Thou hast proved,
Nor wilt Thou relinquish at last
A sinner so signally lov’d.”—TOPLADY.
I might here be permitted to state my master, Mr. Garrard, at this time,
occupied a small farm in the parish of Stradbroke, distant about three
miles, to which myself and others were often sent, to do different kinds
of work, such as putting in the corn with the drill, sometimes getting in
a good lot of turnips, at other times getting up the hay and the corn in
harvest, when we had a wagon to be conveyed through the pleasant journey.
Adjoining our farm was one occupied by Mr. William Davey, and he also
kept a lad a year or two older than myself. He felt himself sometimes
aggrieved, because he had so much to do in waiting upon his young
masters, so he thought he would cut the matter short, and, being sorely
irritated, he got up early one morning (oh! most dreadful act) and set
fire to the straw in the barn, which burnt and consumed the whole
premises, except the dwelling-house—an alarming conflagration; I saw it
blazing. He was taken upon suspicion, tried, and found guilty, and
sentenced to be executed, which sentence was carried into effect at
Ipswich, on the 20th April, 1822. A terrible example to all young men
was the death of William Aldous, late of Stradbroke.
Having passed through the various degrees of training incident to a
farming establishment, including the diversified labours of the season of
harvest, for my master boarded his men, and in some instances lodged them
as well; and the harvests were in those days somewhat cheerful and happy
seasons. “Crowned with the sickle and the wheaten sheaf,” the
ingathering was equal to the demand of the coming winter, however severe
and rigid that season might be.
My master usually kept a man at his off-farm, but during my last two
years of service with him he placed me in that position. The farm-house
was occupied by Samuel Tovell and John Pulham. I lodged with the former,
and fetched my food from master’s house, being allowed to take a horse,
of which I had two under my care, as also several bullocks and pigs. I
used to go to master’s house, and have Sunday dinner, and one evening
during the week regularly.
I received no money for my work, my remuneration was board, lodging,
washing, and clothes. My master trusted to me to obey his orders, spoke
well of me, and I was encouraged by the designation of steward. I was
promised that, if I was willing, I should be put to a business, which
would be better than being at a farm-house. As time rolled on, a
neighbouring farmer, a friend of my master (Mr. Lenny), removed from out
of the parish to Worlingham, and that gentleman was requested to look out
for something for me. He was successful, and it was arranged that I
should be placed under the care of Mr. George Sutton, a shoemaker, of
that parish.
My parents consented, and arrangements being completed, I was told to
prepare for my new destination. Accordingly, I bade farewell to my old
neighbours and friends at Stradbroke and Laxfield, and in the month of
May, 1825, I started with George Pead, the carrier, to Halesworth, to
meet my new master, and thence to continue my journey to Worlingham, my
future residence.
The day was fine, the country looking cheerful after the storms of
winter, and our journey was accomplished in due course safely. I had now
time to look around and reflect on my change. I did not feel very joyful
at my new prospects; I felt that I was a “stranger in a strange land;” I
thought of old associations, and that did not add to my comfort.
However, amidst many discouragements, I thought that if I could learn my
business, I could settle down in after life, and be able to obtain
employment, and support those who might be in some measure dependent on
me.
My master was held to be a good tradesman, and appeared to have a good
run of trade; but I soon found he indulged in habits of drinking to
excess. There was no veneration for the Sabbath, and consequently no
reverence for God’s commands. He also indulged in profane conversation,
such as I had not hitherto been accustomed to; but I prayed for him.
My mistress was a tender-hearted, godly, pious woman, and would often
speak kindly to me when master was harsh, so that my sorrows were not
greatly multiplied. Mr. Lenny came to see me at my new place (I had
known that gentleman when he resided at Laxfield); he harassed my
feelings; brought before my mind old associations, from whom I was
severed. I felt completely broken down. I have no doubt that was the
end he had in view. He afterwards tendered a few healing words of
sympathy and kindness, and said that he would write to Laxfield, and let
my friends there know how I was getting on, and that, if I continued with
my master, and was obliging, he would give me a Christmas-box. After
hearing these and other promises, I resigned myself to my new situation,
and felt that I would do my best, and try to learn to work.
After having been there a month, it was arranged that I should be bound,
Mr. L. being sponsor. An indenture was prepared, and my own consent, and
that of my parents, being obtained, I was bound as an indoor apprentice,
to learn the art and mystery of a bootmaker, for the space of four years,
thirty-one weeks, and four days.
This seemed a long time to look forward, but I was beginning to feel more
reconciled. I visited the customers with the master; had a good share of
jobs to attend to, as well as errands, the diversity of waiting upon the
master, the mistress, the children, the cow, the pony, and the pigs, and
my odd hours were to be spent in the work shop, in learning to stitch
pieces of leather together.
This latter was, to say the least of it, a tedious operation; I suffered
pain in my neck and back, but I had a fair amount of relaxation, and
during the whole of that summer I was not bound down very closely to the
trade, and had become somewhat acquainted with the young people of that
locality, by which I was cheered.
One of my acquaintances was a young man, apprenticed to William Pidgeon,
named John Scarlett. That young man was a vessel of mercy, soon to be
gathered home to the heavenly garner. He was my guide, philosopher, and
friend. “We took sweet counsel together, and walked to the House of God”
in company. He sought, and obtained, instruction from the best source,
and in turn I myself received much valuable instruction from him.
The first Christmas arrived. During my apprenticeship I was permitted to
go to Laxfield, and see my parents. I had not forgotten the promise as
to the Christmas-box, so I called on Mr. Lenny, and reminded him of what
I had not forgotten at this happy season. I was invited to sit down to
table with his people, and have a bowl of good firmity. While I was
enjoying the comfortable meal, Mr. L. came into the room, and asked me if
I thought I could ride a pony to Laxfield. I was happy to answer in the
affirmative. Orders were given, the pony was brought out, and doubly
glad was I to go and see my parents, and also to be furnished with a
horse to ride; but I was to leave it with Mr. Alling, the gentleman who
had been successful in preserving my eyesight, as before stated.
I delivered up my charge, with a letter of instructions from the sender.
I knew that Mr. Lenny’s eldest son was living with Mr. Alling, and most
likely the pony was for his son’s use. However, I had performed my
engagement safely. My short Christmas holiday soon came to an end, and,
taking leave of my parents, I was now, for the first time, on foot, to
measure the whole length of that dreary road that intervened between the
past and the future—the past I was somewhat acquainted with, but as to
the future, I wondered and pondered, and sped my way onward, sometimes
with tardy steps and a heavy heart, but during the evening of that short
winter’s day I arrived home.
I was under a promise to write to my parents, and inform them if I was
once more safe at home. The postage was high at that time, being
eightpence for each letter. We had not as yet felt the benefit of
Rowland Hill’s cheap postage, although we had the benefit of “Rowland
Hill’s Village Dialogues”—these are good and profitable.
I passed through my first winter pretty comfortable, now and then being
sent out with the pony, and sometimes with the cart, which pleased me
very well, as I so enjoyed a trip.
One morning I was called up rather early to fetch some milk for the
family, for the cow was not always in profit. As soon as I had put on my
boots, and had opened the door, I fell down perfectly insensible and
unconscious. My master and mistress were on the room above. They
thought I was gone out, but when they found I was not, they soon came to
see. They were greatly alarmed thinking it might occur frequently; and I
thought how easily my Father and my God could have removed me from this
troublesome world. But thanks to His great goodness and mercy, I never
remember to have had a recurrence of that solemn visitation. It brought
me to consider my state by nature, as a sinner before God; and I
expressed gratitude and thankfulness that my life was still preserved.
Thenceforth, I resolved to seek the Lord, feeling that it was my bounden
duty to serve Him, and I prayed for direction in this important matter.
My young friend, Scarlett, of whom I have spoken, was permitted to attend
the Wesleyan Chapel, at North Cove, and myself was also allowed to join
him, and we felt it a privilege to listen to the truths as there taught.
We felt that the Most High was the Father of Mercies, imparted to us, his
creatures, through the atonement of Christ for the remission of sins. My
friend’s views were Calvanistic; mine were not so, and we were prompted
and exhorted to search the Scriptures. We did search, comparing
spiritual things with spiritual help from above.
About this time, one of the members of the chapel (Mrs. Keer), of
Mutford, was removed by death, and a funeral sermon was preached in North
Cove Chapel, from the words: “Let me die the death of the righteous, and
let my last end be like his.” We had then placed before us the
characteristics of a christian, or a believer, seeking salvation through
the merits of the Great Redeemer, and as obedient children looking and
praying and watching to the end of our course, amidst the temptations and
impediments that bestrew our pathway here below. These timely
observations and other christian duties were insisted on by Mr. Gibson,
the good minister, the burden of which we treasured up in our young
minds, and in the case of my friend I have no doubt produced good fruit
unto eternal life, for his was destined to be but a short journey to the
Celestial City.
Mr. Pidgeon kept a cow, as did my master, and we sometimes had to drive
them to marsh in the summer season—about a mile. We almost always had to
go on Sundays, and then we could talk over our religious impressions and
other matters. As he had a pious mother, who prayed for him,
consequently he was a beloved partaker of the benefit, and he did
appreciate it as a brother beloved, elected of God.
’Tis well with the righteous, God views them as such,
They go to their Father, and can’t ask too much;
In Christ, they are righteous, and who dare bring a charge?
The blood of atonement hath signed their discharge.
One Sunday morning, having gone down with our masters’ cows, and placed
them at their food, we had a little leisure to think, and to talk over
the goodness of God to us, his creatures. Coming to an alder tree, fresh
and green, my companion stopped, and—taking off his cap said: “Here we
must have a little bit of prayer.” Those were the words. I was taken
somewhat by surprise. We both knelt—the grass was our carpet; John led
off in earnest, solemn, heartfelt prayer, possessing the true spirit of
devotion—heard, and witnessed, and accepted in the heavenly courts above,
indicating an earnest of the promised possession of the heavenly
inheritance. I feel something of the rekindling of God’s love while I am
recording this interesting incident. When he had concluded I felt also
prompted to make the attempt, in compliance with his request, but my
sentences were feeble and broken, the very first that were ever heard in
prayer by a fellow-creature.
We often resorted thither for prayer subsequently, and often felt it to
be a time of refreshing from the presence of the Lord. Once, on a
Beccles horse-racing occasion, we repaired thither, and prayed for the
giddy multitude, as also for our friends and acquaintances. There was
another young man, James Taylor, whom we wished to draw into our company;
but, he being a servant, soon changed his master, and went beyond our
reach. He is also gone to rest, having died at Lowestoft about 1860.
I attended to the commands of my master and mistress; was fairly fed; and
my duties were not very stringent. I was not bound down so closely on
the shop seat, but had plenty of outing, and oftentimes worked very late
at night, so that we might forward our work, and accomplish the orders by
the end of the week, although there was often too much to be done on a
Sunday. My master oft indulged himself in such company as are to be
found in public-houses, even on the Sabbath. There were in those days no
restrictions as to the hours. The houses were kept open all day long,
and sometimes he would take me with him, if there was not anything to
take me in any other direction. On one occasion he stayed at the “Bell,”
at Beccles, a long time, and being unwilling to part with the company he
sent me on to Gillingham, two miles further. He had a customer who lived
through Gillingham Toll-gale; thither I was to go to transact business,
and then return. On my return, he was not ready to go home with me, but
said he would be soon. After waiting till I was tired, I set off to go
home to Worlingham. The mistress, knowing I had gone out with the
master, insisted upon knowing where I had left him; I stated the truth.
She felt uncomfortable, and said she would go and fetch him home. I said
that it would not be advisable; that there were drunken people, who would
laugh to see her sorrows multiplied; and that, perhaps, she would bear
words by which she would be more grieved. She did not go, and for years
after she appreciated the advice it was my happiness to tender on that
occasion.
I made progress in my trade; the time—4 years, 31 weeks, and 4 days were
being reduced, for time flies. My master’s father occupied a small farm
in the same parish. Master and I used often to go and help him in busy
seasons, such as hay and harvest seasons. I was also allowed to help
master’s customers a few days during the harvest, being always supplied
with good harvest food; sometimes the strong ale would make me stagger;
and, although I had to work harder, somehow I always felt delighted with
the change.
We had only one service at the parish church each Sunday, that being one
reason why I was permitted to attend chapel, and sometimes my friend John
and I were allowed to go to the Primitive Chapel, at Beccles. This was
during the early ministry of Robert Key; and sometimes we were privileged
to listen to that good man, and were instructed and comforted thereby,
admiring his plain and easy style of preaching, the gospel of truth and
love, through the atonement and satisfaction of our Lord Jesus Christ,
and the infinite importance of being saved from wrath through Him. The
good Lord crowned this man’s efforts with abundant success, and he became
a “burning and a shining light.”
My master was a kind of sportsman; he kept a gun, also a dog, and
occasionally used them. We were friendly with the gamekeeper, and as we
did not annoy or pursue the game, no notice was taken of the master. I
say “we,” for I was allowed to use the gun, and shoot as many
wood-pigeons as I could during the winter seasons, for we could not work
much at the trade during the sharp weather. The family increased—a third
son was born named Robert; in process of time a fourth named Samuel.
Master built a workshop, for the cottage was becoming too small. He
suggested that I should lodge in the new building. I preferred staying
in the old quarters, and ultimately was permitted to do so to the end of
my engagement.
I had often to go very long journeys on Sunday mornings—especially those
Sundays when there was no service at church—to Ellough, to Hulver, to
Henstead, to Mutford, and sometimes through Beccles to Gillingham, and on
one occasion I went with master to Bungay on business. In this and many
other ways the Sabbath was greatly desecrated, while the world with its
fascinations and alurements obtained faithful service.
About this time a very tragical affair occurred in our parish. My
friend’s master was on his way home from Beccles, one Saturday night,
very late, when, before he arrived at his house, he was attacked by a
ruffian, beaten about the head, and almost killed. It was said he would
have been quite murdered, but he had a very thick hairy head—something
like a negro’s—by reason thereof the blows did not take fatal effect.