seems to have inherited a large share of her father's talents and
spiritual graces. Her powers of mind were unusually strong; her
knowledge was extensive and varied, and her piety highly fervid. She
married at an early age; became a mother when eighteen; had a large
family; and, though never negligent of domestic duties, she daily and
assiduously devoted herself to the education of her children. She began
to instruct Timothy, it is said, "as soon as he was able to speak; and
such was his eagerness, as well as his capacity for improvement, that he
learned the alphabet at a single lesson; and before he was four years
old, was able to read the Bible with ease and correctness.... She taught
him from the very dawn of his reason to fear God and to keep his
commandments; to be conscientiously just, kind, affectionate,
charitable, and forgiving; to preserve, on all occasions, and under all
circumstances, the most sacred regard for truth; and to relieve the
distresses and supply the wants of the poor and unfortunate. She aimed,
at a very early period, to enlighten his conscience, to make him afraid
of sin, and to teach him to hope for pardon only through Christ. The
impressions thus made upon his mind in infancy, were never effaced. A
great proportion of the instruction which he received before he arrived
at the age of six years, was at home with his mother. His school room
was the nursery. Here he had his regular hours for study, as in a
school; and twice every day she heard him repeat his lesson. Here, in
addition to his stated task, he watched the cradle of his younger
brother. When his lesson was recited, he was permitted to read such
books as he chose, until the limited period was expired. During these
intervals, he often read over the historical parts of the Bible, and
gave an account of them to his mother. So deep and distinct was the
impression which these narrations made upon his mind, that their
minutest incidents were indelibly fixed upon his memory. His relish for
reading was thus early formed, and was strengthened by the conversation
and example of his mother. His early knowledge of the Bible led to that
ready, accurate, and extensive acquaintance with Scripture, which is so
evident in his sermons and other writings."[72]
[72] Mothers of the Wise and Good, p. 142
It is easy to see, in this picture, who it was that laid the foundation
of that character which sanctified genius, and caused it to shine with
transcendent lustre, for more than twenty years, at the head of Yale
college. The mother of President Dwight was well repaid, even in this
life, for the pains she took to rear this son for the glory of God; for,
while he never disobeyed a command of hers or omitted a filial duty, he
was kind and generous to her in her old age, and smoothed her path to a
Christian's grave. But her true and great reward for her maternal
faithfulness, is in another world, whither she went to receive it about
the year 1807.
HAPPY RESULTS OF MATERNAL FIDELITY.
Lift the heart and bend the knee.
MRS. HEMANS.
The superior influence of the mother in forming the character of the
child, is generally conceded. Biographical literature abounds with
illustrations of this fact, and renders it incontrovertible. As
examples, in Great Britain, we are often, with propriety, pointed to the
mothers of Isaac and John Newton, Doddridge, the Wesleys, Richard Cecil,
Legh Richmond and many others; but it is needless for any people to
search in foreign lands for such examples.
In the notices of the mothers of Washington, Jackson, Randolph, Dwight
and some others, on preceding pages of this volume, the truth of the
same proposition is endeavored to be substantiated: and, as facts most
forcibly illustrate argument, and wholesome hints are often easiest
given by example, we will add two or three more anecdotes having a
bearing on this point.
The mother of Jonathan Edwards, it is well known, began to pray for him
as soon as he was born; and probably no mother ever strove harder than
she to rear a child "in the nurture and admonition of the Lord." The
result of her efforts is known to the world.
The late Professor Knowles, of the Newton theological institution,
received much pious instruction from his mother in his infant years;
and, as he lost his father at the age of twelve, at that period she
assumed wholly the guidance of his steps and his studies. She early
discovered his love of books and his promising talents; and while she
admonished him, and led him to the Saviour, she also sympathized with
him in his literary taste and encouraged him in his scientific pursuits.
The zealous minister, the learned biblical instructor, the polished
writer and biographer of the first Mrs. Judson, owed very much to the
moral training and the literary encouragement of his faithful mother.
Nearly half a century ago, the mother of the celebrated Beecher family,
made the following record: "This morning I rose very early to pray for
my children; and especially that my sons may be ministers and
missionaries of Jesus Christ." The "fervent" prayers of the good woman
were "effectual:" her five sons became "ministers and missionaries of
Jesus Christ," and all her children--eight in number--are connected with
the "household of God"--several on earth and one,[73] at least, in
heaven.
[73] The late George Beecher.
WONDERFUL ENDURANCE AND PERSEVERANCE OF MRS. SCOTT.
----Mute
The camel labors with the heaviest load,
And the wolf dies in silence; not bestowed
In vain should such examples be; if they,
Things of ignoble or of savage mood,
Endure and shrink not, we of nobler clay,
May temper it to bear--it is but for a day.
BYRON.
Mrs. Scott, a resident of Washington county, Virginia, was taken captive
by Indians on the night of the twenty-ninth of June, 1785. Her husband
and all her children were slain; and before morning she was forced to
commence her march through the wilderness.
On the eleventh day of her captivity, while in charge of four Indians,
provision becoming scarce, a halt was made, and three of the number went
on a hunting excursion. Being left in the care of an old man, she made
him believe she was reconciled to her condition, and thus threw him off
his guard. Anxious to escape, and having matured her plans, she asked
him, in the most disinterested manner possible, to let her go to a small
stream, near by, and wash her apron, which was besmeared with the blood
of one of her children. He gave her leave, and while he was busy in
"graining a deer-skin," she started off. Arriving at the stream, without
a moment's hesitation, she pushed on in the direction of a mountain.
Traveling till late at night, she came into a valley where she hoped to
find the track along which she had been taken by her captors, and
thereby be able to retrace her steps. Hurrying across the valley to the
margin of a river, which she supposed must be the eastern branch of the
Kentucky, she discovered in the sand the tracks of two men who had
followed the stream upwards and returned. Thinking them to be the prints
of pursuers, and that they had returned from the search, she took
courage, thanked God, and was prepared to continue her flight.
On the third day she came very near falling into the hands of savages, a
company whom she supposed had been sent to Clinch river on a pilfering
excursion. Hearing their approach before they came in sight, she
concealed herself, and they passed without noticing her. She now became
greatly alarmed, and was so bewildered as to lose her way and to wander
at random for several days.
At length, coming to a stream that seemed to flow from the east, she
concluded it must be Sandy river; and resolving to trace it to its
source, which was near a settlement where she was acquainted, she pushed
on for several days, till she came into mountainous regions and to
craggy steeps. There, in the vicinity of a "prodigious waterfall," she
was forced to leap from a precipice, upon some rocks, and was so stunned
as to be obliged to make a short delay in her journey.
Soon after passing through the mountain,[74] she was bitten by a snake
which she supposed was venomous. She killed it, and expected her turn to
die would come next; but the only injury she received was some pain and
the slight swelling of one foot. A writer, whose narration we follow and
whose facts are more reliable than his philosophy, thinks that, being
"reduced to a mere skeleton, with fatigue, hunger and grief," she was
probably, on that account, "saved from the effects of the poisonous
fangs."
[74] Laurel mountain.
Leaving the river, Mrs. Scott came to a forked valley, and watching the
flight of birds, took the branch they did, and in two days came in sight
of New Garden, the settlement on Clinch river, before referred to. Thus,
after wandering in the wilderness for six long weeks, almost destitute
of clothing, without a weapon of defence or instrument for obtaining
provision; exposed to wild beasts and merciless savages; subsisting a
full month on the juice of young cane stalks, sassafras leaves and
similar food; looking to God in prayer for guidance by day, and for
protection by night; shielded from serious harm, and led by an unseen
Hand, on the eleventh of August, the wanderings of the widowed and
childless captive were brought to a close.
SUCCESS OF BOLDNESS.
"Courage, prove thy chance once more."
While Colonel Tarleton was marching through North Carolina, near the
close of the Revolution, he passed two nights in Halifax county. From
malice or because of a scarcity of provision, he caused his troops to
catch all the horses, cattle, hogs, fowls, etc., that could be found,
most of which were destroyed. The inhabitants generally fled and
concealed themselves in the neighboring swamps and thickets. One young
lady, however, in the upper part of the county, where they spent the
second night, refused to retire. Remaining on the premises alone, when
the marauders came for the horses and cattle thereon, Miss Bishop[75]
ordered them off; but they did not obey. Among the animals they drove to
camp, was a favorite pony of hers, which she resolved to recover. When
night come on, she went unarmed to the camp, about a mile distant, and
boldly made known her errand to Tarleton. "Your roguish men in red
coats," she said to him, "came to my father's house about sundown and
stole my pony, and I have walked here alone and unprotected, to claim
and demand him; and, sir, I must and I will have him. I fear not your
men. They are base and unprincipled enough to dare to offer insult to an
unprotected female; but their cowardly hearts will prevent them from
doing her any bodily injury." While thus speaking, her eye happened to
fall on her favorite animal, upon which the camp fire flung its light,
and she added, "There, sir, is my horse. I shall mount him and ride
peacefully home; and if you have any gentlemanly feeling within you, of
which your men are totally destitute, or, if you have any regard for
their safety, you will see, sir, that I am not interrupted. But, before
I go, I wish to say to you that he who can, and will not, prevent this
base and cowardly stealing from henroosts, stables and barn-yards, is no
better, in my estimation, than the mean, good-for-nothing, guilty
wretches who do the dirty work with their own hands! Good night, sir."
[75] Afterwards Mrs. Powell. She died in 1840.
Tarleton took the hint; ordered his soldiers not to molest her; and she
was suffered to take the pony and gallop peacefully home.
MARY KNIGHT.
----The office
Becomes a woman best; I'll take it upon me.
SHAKSPEARE.
The subject of this brief notice was a sister of General Isaac Worrell.
She died two or three years since, in Philadelphia. The following
tribute to her patriotism and humanity, was paid by a New Jersey
newspaper, in July, 1849:
"The deceased was one of those devoted women who aided to relieve the
horrible sufferings of Washington's army at Valley Forge--cooking and
carrying provisions to them alone, through the depth of winter, even
passing through the outposts of the British army in the disguise of a
market woman. And when Washington was compelled to retreat before a
superior force, she concealed her brother, General Worrell,--when the
British set a price on his head--in a cider hogshead in the cellar for
three days, and fed him through the bunghole; the house being ransacked
four different times by the troops in search of him, without success.
She was over ninety years of age at the time of her death."
THE WIFE OF WILLIAM GRAY.
----Our lives
In acts exemplary, not only win
Ourselves good names, but do to others give
Matter for virtuous deeds, by which we live.
CHAPMAN.
Elizabeth Chipman was born in Essex county, Massachusetts, in May, 1756.
She was the daughter of a talented and eminent lawyer of Marblehead, and
inherited a highly respectable share of his mental endowments. Her
intellectual faculties and moral feelings were early and highly
developed; and when, in 1782, she was married to William Gray, the
celebrated millionaire, of Salem, in her native county, she was
prepared, in all respects, to command the highest influence in society.
But, although the wife of the richest man in Massachusetts and probably
in New England, she never rose above her duties as a housekeeper, a
mother and a Christian. She managed her domestic affairs personally and
economically; and inculcated in the minds of her six children, by
example as well as precept, the best habits and the noblest principles.
"She divided her time between reading, household affairs, and duties to
society, in such a manner as never for a moment to be in a hurry."[76]
She was as well known by the poor as the rich: her virtues irradiated
every sphere. She was anxious to exalt as much as possible the Christian
profession; hence she rode in a plain carriage, and avoided all
unnecessary display, "that no evil precedents of expense could arise
from her example."
[76] Knapp's Female Biography, p. 235.
The latter years of this excellent woman were passed in Boston, whither
the family had removed, and where she died on the twenty-fourth of
September, 1823. In her benevolent acts and cheerful life, is
beautifully exemplified the truth of the poet's assertion:
On piety humanity is built,
And on humanity, much happiness.
ANECDOTE OF MRS. HUNTINGTON.
Earthly power doth then show likest gods,
When mercy seasons justice.
SHAKSPEARE.
Susan Mansfield was the daughter of the Rev. Achilles Mansfield, of
Killingworth, Connecticut, and was born on the twenty-seventh of
January, 1791. At the age of eighteen or nineteen, she was married to
Joshua Huntington, pastor of the Old South church, Boston. She died in
1823. Her memoirs, written by her husband's pastoral successor, B. B.
Wisner, was, at one time, a very popular work. It passed through five
editions in Scotland, in a very few years.
Her husband preceded her to the grave four years. While a widow, she was
robbed of several articles of jewelry by a young woman; and the articles
were recovered, and the thief arrested and tried. During the
examination, Mrs. Huntington was called into court to identify the
property; and having done this, she was asked their value. Knowing that
the degree of punishment depended somewhat on the apprisal of the
property, and pitying the poor girl, she hinted that she never used
much jewelry, and was not a good judge of its value. A person was then
called upon to prize the several articles; and she told him to bear in
mind that they had been used for many years, were consequently damaged,
and out of fashion. In this way she secured a low and, to herself, a
satisfactory valuation. She then addressed the judge, stating that she
had herself taken the jewelry from a trunk; had carelessly left it
exposed on a table; had thus thrown temptation in the way of the girl,
and suggested that her own heedlessness might possibly have been the
cause of the offence. She did not, she assured the judge, wish to
interfere with his duties, or wrongly bias his decisions, but she would,
nevertheless, esteem it a favor, if the punishment inflicted on the
unfortunate transgressor, could be the lightest that would not dishonor
the law. Hoping the ignorant girl would repent and reform, she left the
stand with tears in her eyes, which greatly affected the judge. In his
sentence he reminded the culprit, that the person whom she had most
offended, was the first to plead for a mitigation of her punishment, and
had saved her from the extreme rigors of a broken law.
HOSPITALITY OF MRS. BIDDLE.
----All were welcome and feasted.
LONGFELLOW.
In the summer of 1777, while Washington was encamped near Brandywine, a
large party of foragers came into the neighborhood, and the General gave
orders to a company of his troops, to go in pursuit of them early the
next morning, and, if possible, cut off their retreat. As an engagement
might ensue, he also gave orders that the women should leave the camp.
Receiving intelligence of the latter order, and unwilling to be included
in it, the wife of Colonel Clement Biddle, an intimate associate of Mrs.
Washington in the camp, went to the General and told him that the
officers, who had gone on the expedition, would be likely to return
hungry, and she would consider it a favor to be allowed to remain and
prepare some refreshment for them. Washington complied with her request,
and her servant was immediately posted off in search of provision.
Receiving information that a band of "rebels" was in pursuit of them,
the foragers took a quick step out of the neighborhood. The pursuers
returned at a late dinner hour exceedingly fatigued and ripe for
attacking the "good things" prepared by Mrs. Biddle. Notified of her
generosity, the officers forthwith repaired to her quarters, each
saying, on his entrance, "Madam, we hear that you feed the army to-day."
It is said that at least a hundred officers enjoyed her hospitalities on
that occasion.
They ate like Famine, fast and well,
Piling their plates with turkeys slain;
They conquered--bones alone could tell
Of fowls late bled at every vein.
KINDNESS OF SOME CONVICTS
----When your head did but ache,
I knit my handkerchief about your brows,
* * * * *
And with my hand at midnight held your head;
And, like the watchful minutes to the hour,
Still and anon cheered up the heavy time.
SHAKSPEARE.
When the yellow fever broke out in Philadelphia, several years ago, it
was extremely difficult to obtain help at the hospital; application was
consequently made to the female convicts in the prison. Braving the
danger of becoming nurses for the sick under such circumstances, as many
as were needed readily profered their aid, and remained as long as
desired. There was a scarcity of bedsteads, and these females were asked
for theirs. Willing to sacrifice the meagre comforts of a convict for
the sake of alleviating the condition of the sick and the dying, they
not only gave up their bedsteads, but bedding also. Such humane conduct,
coming from whom it may, is deserving of praise and worthy of record.
MARGARET PRIOR.
----If a soul thou wouldst redeem,
And lead a lost one back to God;
Wouldst thou a guardian angel seem
To one who long in guilt hath trod;
Go kindly to him--take his hand,
With gentlest words, within thine own,
And by his side a brother stand,
Till all the demon thou dethrone.
MRS. C. M. SAWYER.
The subject of this notice was a native of Fredericksburg, Virginia. She
was born in 1773. Her maiden name was Barrett. She was married to
William Allen, a merchant of Baltimore, at the age of sixteen; resided
in that city for several years, and became the mother of seven children.
All but one of them died in infancy. Her husband was lost at sea, in
1808, when her only surviving child was about eighteen months old.
Soon after becoming a widow she removed to the city of New York. There,
in 1814, she was united in marriage with William Prior, a benevolent and
public-spirited member of the Society of Friends. She was herself at
that time in communion with the Baptists, she having united with them
before the death of her first husband. In 1819 she joined the
Methodists, with whom she remained in church-fellowship the residue of
her life.
When the New York Orphan Asylum was instituted, she was appointed one of
the managers and was, thenceforward, incessantly engaged in benevolent
operations. We first find her in the more conspicuous "walks of
usefulness," in the severe winter of 1818 and '19. There being, at that
time, no public fund for meeting the wants of the poor, she made
arrangements with her nearest neighbor--herself a kind-hearted, humane
woman--to prepare soup three times a week for the destitute in the ninth
ward. She had previously visited that part of the city and made herself
acquainted with many suffering individuals. All who applied for soup, if
not known, she accompanied to their homes, and presented them with
tickets entitling them to further supplies, if found to be true objects
of charity. Many, it is thought, were saved from starvation by her
humane exertions. "These, and similar deeds of mercy, tended to enlarge
her heart: while she watered others, she was watered also herself, and
felt continually the truth of the assertion, 'It is more blessed to give
than to receive.'"[77]
[77] Walks of Usefulness; or, Reminiscences of Margaret Prior, p. 17.
Notwithstanding her arduous, public duties, Mrs. Prior managed her
household affairs with care, neatness and regularity. It has been
appropriately said of her that she had "a place for every thing and
every thing in its place." The time that some spend in fashionable and
heartless calls, she devoted to industry and humanity. By rising early,
working late, observing the strictest rules of economy, and subjecting
herself, at times, to self-denial, she was able to visit the suffering,
and to make daily appropriations from her own table for their relief.
Numerous instances of her self-denial have been related, and one of them
we will repeat. She usually obtained assistance to do her washing, and
limited herself to a dollar a week to meet that expense. Sometimes the
amount she wished to devote to some particular object fell short, and in
such instances she would do the washing herself, and thereby save the
dollar. She felt, in such cases, as has been remarked, that "the
personal effort was made a blessing to herself of greater value than the
sum saved."
In the year 1822, Mrs. Prior visited the families on Bowery hill, where
she had resided the three previous years; thoroughly acquainted herself
with their moral condition and necessities; established a school for
poor children; commenced her long-continued weekly visits for
conversation and prayer with the pupils, and secured the sympathies and
pecuniary assistance of several Christians to aid in supporting the
school from year to year. She herself contributed one hundred dollars
annually for its maintenance.
On the fourteenth of September, 1829, this good woman again became a
widow. Previous to this date she had lost her seventh child, and an
adopted one. She had also taken a second motherless child into her
family. About the year her second husband died, Bowery hill was dug
away, and she changed her residence.
When, in the early part of 1833, the Moral Reform society was organized,
she became a prominent member of its board of managers, and, four years
afterwards, commenced, under its patronage, her memorable labors as a
city missionary. These she continued till 1842, in which year, on the
seventh of April, her earthly work was finished.
Two or three incidents connected with her labors as a missionary, will
show, in part, at least, the character of her work and the philanthropic
spirit by which she was ever actuated.
As she was once passing through the streets, she was accosted by a lady
who inquired her name, and wished to know if she did not belong to the
society which had opened a register of direction for the accommodation
of respectable females. Ascertaining that she was not mistaken in the
person, the stranger told Mrs. Prior that two female acquaintances of
hers were out of work, had become reduced to want, and were so wretched
as to threaten to drown themselves, unless they soon found a situation.
They had been working for houses connected with the southern trade which
had failed, and thus thrown them out of employment. Learning their
residence, Mrs. Prior visited them immediately; told them of the
enormity of the crime they had threatened to commit; that she would try
to secure work for them, and that it was their duty to seek the grace of
God to sustain them in such trying seasons. The next day she found
situations for them in pious families, and thus, while she probably
saved them from committing suicide, she was, perhaps, the instrument, in
the hands of God, of saving them from infamy and eternal ruin.
Passing through the suburbs of the city one day, her attention was
arrested by the chime of youthful voices. Seeing that the music
proceeded from some little beggar-girls, who were sitting in the sun
beside the fence and singing a Sabbath school hymn, she inquired of them
what they were doing, when the following dialogue occurred: "We were
cold, ma'am, and are getting warm in the sun." "Where do you live?" "In
Twentieth street, ma'am." "Why have you come so far away from your
homes?" "To get some food and some things to make a fire." "Why were you
singing?" "To praise God: we go to the Sunday school, and our teacher
says if we are good children God will never let us want." Pleased with
the modest and artless answers to her questions, the good woman took
them across the street, procured each of them a loaf of bread, gave them
some pious counsel, and left them with smiles on their faces and
gratitude in their hearts.