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."
[Illustration: THE DEATH OF THE WOODMAN.
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."