to Sing Sing. She made a record of her visit to the latter place, from
which we make an extract: "In visiting the female convicts at their
cells on Sabbath morning, after Sabbath school, which, under the
customary regulations, we were permitted to do, we found nearly all
employed in reading their Bibles. We conversed with them respecting the
welfare of their souls, and as we knelt with them at the throne of
grace, they on one side of the grated door and we on the other, we felt
that He who healed a Mary Magdalene, is still the same compassionate
Saviour, and our faith, we trust, apprehended him as the atoning
sacrifice, who bore our sins in his own body on the tree, and opened a
way for the salvation of even the chief of sinners."
[78] June, 1840.
Being on an errand of mercy in G---- street one day, she stepped into a
house of infamy to leave a certain tract. As soon as she had entered and
made known her mission, the door was closed and locked by one of the
female inmates, who told her that she was their prisoner. "For a
moment," writes Mrs. Prior, in her journal, "my heart was tremulous; I
said nothing till the risings of fear were quelled, and then replied
pleasantly, 'Well, if I'm a prisoner, I shall pray here, and would sing
praises to God if I were not so hoarse. Yes, bless the Lord! his
presence can make me happy here or any where, and you can have no power
to harm me unless he gives it. This is a dreadful place, to be sure, but
it is not so bad as hell; for there, there is no hope. The smoke of
their torment ascendeth up for ever and ever! What a mercy that we are
not all there! what compassion in the blessed Jesus that he spares us,
when our sins are every day so great.' I talked to them in this manner
till they were glad to open the door as a signal for my release."
Such were the doings, such was the character, of Margaret Prior. We see
her organizing week-day and Sabbath schools, industrial associations and
temperance societies; establishing soup houses and orphan asylums;
visiting the sick, the poor, the idle, the culprit, the outcast;
pointing the dying to a risen Saviour, leading the destitute by the hand
to the place of relief, the idle to houses of industry, and warning the
outlaw and the corrupt of the certain and terrible doom that would
attend persistency in their downward course. With the sweetness,
gentleness, simplicity, and delicacy, so becoming in woman under all
circumstances, were blended in her character, energy that was
unconquerable, courage that danger could not blench, and firmness that
human power could not bend. The contemplation of such a character is
superficial, if it does not prompt benevolent feelings, re-affirm
virtuous resolutions, and revive and strengthen drooping piety.
NOBLE ACTS OF KINDNESS.
We are to relieve the distressed, to put the wanderer in the way,
and divide our bread with the hungry.--SENECA.
The Rev. Thomas Andros, of Berkley, Massachusetts, was a firm patriot
and a keen sufferer in the strife for freedom. He was captured whilst on
board a privateer, and transferred to the Jersey prison ship. In the
autumn of 1781, he escaped; and, skulking through the east end of Long
Island, received at the hands of females such marks of pity and kindness
as were thought worthy of noting in his journal. The following are
extracts:
"I came to a respectable dwelling-house and entered it. Among the
inmates were a decent woman and a tailor. To the woman I expressed my
want of something to nourish my feeble frame, telling her if she would
give me a morsel, it would be a mere act of charity. She made no
objection, asked no questions, but promptly furnished me with the dish
of light food I desired. Expressing my obligations to her, I rose to
depart. But going round through another room, she met me in the front
entry, placed a hat on my head, put an apple pie in my hand, and said,
'you will want this before you get through the woods.' I opened my mouth
to give vent to the grateful feelings with which my heart was filled.
But she would not tarry to hear a word, and instantly vanished. The
mystery of her conduct I suppose was this: she was satisfied that I had
escaped from prison, and if she granted me any succor, knowing me to be
such, it might cost her family the confiscation of their estate. She did
not therefore wish to ask me any questions or hear me explain who I was
in the hearing of the tailor, who might turn informer. This mark of
kindness was more than I could well bear, and as I went on the tears
flowed copiously! The recollection of her humanity and pity revives in
my breast even now the same feeling of gratitude.
"Some time after, in Suffolk county, being repulsed from one dwelling, I
entered another, and informed the mistress of the house of my wants. By
the cheerfulness and good-nature depicted in her countenance and first
movements, I knew my suit was granted, and I had nothing more to say
than to apprise her I was penniless. In a few moments she placed on the
table a bowl of bread and milk, a dried bluefish roasted, and a mug of
cider, and said, 'sit down and eat.'
"It was now growing dark, so I went but a short distance further,
entered a house, and begged the privilege of lodging by the fire. My
request was granted. There was no one in the house but the man and his
wife. They appeared to be cordial friends to each other--it was indeed
one of the few happy matches. Before it became late in the evening the
man took his Bible and read a chapter. He then arose and offered up his
grateful acknowledgments and supplications to God through the Mediator.
I now began to think I had got into a safe and hospitable retreat. They
had before made many inquiries such as indicated that they felt tenderly
and took an interest in my welfare. I now confessed my situation to
them. All was silence. It took some time to recover themselves from a
flood of tears. At last the kind woman said, 'Let us go and bake his
clothes.' No sooner said than the man seized a brand of fire and threw
it into the oven. The woman provided a clean suit of clothes to supply
the place of mine till they had purified them by fire. The work done, a
clean bed was laid down on which I was to rest, and rest I did as in a
new world; for I had got rid of a swarm of cannibals who were eating me
up alive! In the morning I took my leave of this dear family with a
gratitude that for fifty years has suffered no abatement."[79]
[79] Mr. Andros thus describes the old Jersey: "Her dark and filthy
exterior corresponded with the death and despair reigning within. It is
supposed that eleven thousand American seamen perished in her. None came
to relieve their woes. Once or twice, by order of a stranger on the
quarter-deck, a bag of apples was hurled promiscuously into the midst of
hundreds of prisoners, crowded as thick as they could stand--and life
and limbs were endangered in the struggle. The prisoners were secured
between the decks by iron gratings; and when the ship was to be cleared
of water, an armed guard forced them up to the winches, amid a roar of
execrations and reproaches--the dim light adding to the horrors of the
scene. Thousands died whose names have never been known; perishing when
no eye could witness their fortitude, nor praise their devotion to their
country."
THE WIFE OF DR. RAMSAY.
Unrivalled as thy merit, be thy fame.
TICKELL.
Few women of modern times have more charmingly exhibited "the beauties
of holiness" than Martha Laurens Ramsay, the wife of the historian of
South Carolina. In his interesting series of lectures on the Christian
graces, the Rev. Dr. Williams very happily refers to her habit of
prayer, to illustrate the spirit of brotherly kindness as shown in the
mutual intercession of brethren in the same church. "It is animating,"
he writes, "and yet, as contrasted with our present remissness,
humiliating, to read how Baxter and his people held days of fasting and
prayer for each other; or to turn to the pages which describe a
Christian matron of the South, the wife of Ramsay and the daughter of
Henry Laurens, President of the Continental Congress, praying over a
list of her fellow-members, name by name, and remembering, to the best
of her knowledge, the cares and wants of each before the throne of
grace."[80]
[80] Religious Progress, pp. 200-1.
Prior to her marriage, and whilst residing in France with her father,
she received from him the handsome present of five hundred guineas.
Appropriating a very small portion of this sum to her own use, with the
bulk she purchased one hundred French Testaments--all to be found in the
market--and distributed them amongst the destitute in Vigan and its
vicinity, and organized a school there for the instruction of youth,
constituting a fund sufficient to oblite rate its annual charges.
Mrs. Ramsay was remarkably economical of time, rising early and devoting
every hour to some useful service; and of money, never indulging herself
in any needless expenditure. This principle of economy was observed even
at her funeral. She directed that it should be at her own private house;
and that her coffin should be plain and without a plate. She died on the
tenth of June, 1811.
COURAGE AND PRESENCE OF MIND OF MARGARET SCHUYLER.
--Courage mounteth with occasion.
SHAKSPEARE.
In August, 1781, when the abduction of General Schuyler from his house
in the suburbs of Albany, was projected, and John Waltermeyer, the bold
partizan of Joseph Bettys, led a motley and blood-thirsty band--tories,
Canadians and Indians--in the daring undertaking, a daughter of the
General acted so courageous and wise a part as to justify us in giving
on outline sketch of the unsuccessful enterprise.
As the family sat in an open door, in the evening of a very sultry day,
receiving information that a stranger was waiting at the back gate to
see him, General Schuyler mistrusted, at once, that something was wrong;
and, instead of repairing to the gate, he instantly closed and fastened
the doors, and ran to his bed chamber for his arms. He then hurried his
family into the third story, where he immediately discharged a pistol to
arouse the careless guards, and afterwards others, to alarm, if
possible, the inhabitants of the city. In hurrying up stairs, his wife
overlooked her infant, which was asleep in the cradle; and she was about
to descend, when the General warned her of the danger, and held her
back. Seeing her mother's agony, a daughter named Margaret, rushed down
stairs into the nursery, caught the child, and was about ascending, when
a tomahawk flew past her, simply grazing her dress and slightly injuring
it. Hurrying up a private stairway, she was met by Waltermeyer, who
roughly exclaimed, "Wench! where is your master?" With remarkable
presence of mind, she answered, "Gone to alarm the town." Fearing that
such might be the case, Waltermeyer called his pilfering men, who were
bagging plate in the dining hall, and began a consultation. Meanwhile
the General was also thinking, and devising a stratagem by which to
frighten away the kidnappers. He soon threw up a window, and, in the
voice of an experienced commander, cried out, "Come on, my brave
fellows; surround the house and secure the villains who are plundering."
As he anticipated, the gang, hearing these words, snapped the thread of
their consultation, and tested the nimbleness of their feet. The reports
of the General's arms had alarmed the people of the city, and they came
to the rescue just in season to be unneeded.
NOBLE TREATMENT OF ENEMIES.
----True religion
Is always mild, propitious and humble,
Plays not the tyrant, plants no faith in blood;
Nor bears destruction on her chariot wheels;
But stoops to polish, succor, and redress,
And builds her grandeur on the public good.
MILLER'S MAHOMET.
Among the early converts to Christianity in the Cherokee tribe, were a
few women, who formed themselves into a society for propagating the
Gospel. They felt its expanding power, and, though poor, were anxious to
do something for those who were not sharing in the same blessing. The
proceeds of their first year's efforts, were about ten dollars; and
while deliberating on the manner of its appropriation, one of the
members suggested that it be devoted to the promotion of religion among
the Osages, giving as a reason that they were the greatest enemies of
the Cherokees, and that the Bible teaches Christians to do good to
such.
HUMANITY REWARDED.
----I should some kindness show them.
SHAKSPEARE.
Among the early settlements of New Hampshire, were several on the
Piscataqua river, in the neighborhood of the present town of Dover. For
awhile the aborigines and whites were on amicable terms, and the former
not unfrequently paid the latter a friendly visit. On one of those
occasions, a pappoos was suddenly seized with illness, and its mother
was obliged to remain several days. She found shelter and accommodations
with a widow, who received her cordially, and nursed the feeble infant
as her own. Such kindness would not be forgotten, even by savages; and
when, after the lapse of years, the bow was bent and the hatchet raised
against the settlement where the widow resided, the Indians placed a
strong guard around her house; and, though the butchery was terrible,
she and her family were unharmed.
MARGARET WINTHROP.
----When meet now
Such pairs, in love and honor joined?
MILTON.
Governor Winthrop, the father of the Massachusetts' colony, married
Margaret, the daughter of Sir John Tindal, in April, 1618. She was his
third wife, and a woman of rare qualities both of mind and heart.
Previous to their emigration to New England, it was not an uncommon
occurrence for them to be separated, and their correspondence on such
occasions savors of the purest affection. Who does not see the image of
a devoted wife and an exalted spirit in the following letter, written
about the year 1627:
"MY MOST SWEET HUSBAND,--How dearly welcome thy kind letter was to me, I
am not able to express. The sweetness of it did much refresh me. What
can be more pleasing to a wife, than to hear of the welfare of her best
beloved, and how he is pleased with her poor endeavors! I blush to hear
myself commended, knowing my own wants. But it is your love that
conceives the best, and makes all things seem better than they are. I
wish that I may be always pleasing to thee, and that those comforts we
have in each other may be daily increased, as far as they may be
pleasing to God. I will use that speech to thee, that Abigail did to
David: 'I will be a servant to wash the feet of my lord.' I will do any
service wherein I may please my good husband. I confess I cannot do
enough for thee; but thou art pleased to accept the will for the deed,
and rest contented.
"I have many reasons to make me love thee, whereof I will name two:
first, because thou lovest God; and secondly, because thou lovest me. If
these two were wanting, all the rest would be eclipsed. But I must leave
this discourse, and go about my household affairs. I am a bad housewife
to be so long from them; but I must needs borrow a little time to talk
with thee, my sweet heart. I hope thy business draws to an end. It will
be but two or three weeks before I see thee, though they be long ones.
God will bring us together in his good time; for which I shall pray.
Farewell, my good husband; the Lord keep thee.
Your obedient wife,
MARGARET WINTHROP."
Below is another letter from the pen of this good woman, written after
her husband had decided to come to Massachusetts, and just before his
embarkation:
"MY MOST DEAR HUSBAND,--I should not now omit any opportunity of writing
to thee, considering I shall not long have thee to write unto. But, by
reason of my unfitness at this time, I must entreat thee to accept of a
few lines from me, and not impute it to any want of love, or neglect of
duty to thee, to whom I owe more than I ever shall be able to express.
"My request now shall be to the Lord to prosper thee in thy voyage, and
enable thee and fit thee for it, and give all graces and gifts for such
employments as he shall call thee to. I trust God will once more bring
us together before you go, that we may see each other with gladness, and
take a solemn leave, till we, through the goodness of our God, shall
meet in New England, which will be a joyful day to us. With my best
wishes to God for thy health and welfare, I take my leave and rest, thy
faithful, obedient wife,
MARGARET WINTHROP."[81]
[81] The following extract from a letter written by the Governor in
March, 1629, shows that he was not unconscious of the excellence of the
gift he possessed in his "yokefellow." Addressing her as "MINE OWN DEAR
HEART," he proceeds:
"I must confess thou hast overcome me with thy exceeding great love, and
those abundant expressions of it in thy sweet letters, which savor of
more than an ordinary spirit of love and piety. Blessed be the Lord our
God, that gives strength and comfort to thee to undergo this great
trial, which, I must confess, would be too heavy for thee, if the Lord
did not put under his hand in so gracious a measure. Let this experience
of his faithfulness to thee in this first trial, be a ground to
establish thy heart to believe and expect his help in all that may
follow. It grieveth me much, that I want time and freedom of mind to
discourse with thee, my faithful yokefellow, in those things which thy
sweet letters offer me so plentiful occasion for. I beseech the Lord, I
may have liberty to supply it, ere I depart; for I cannot thus leave
thee."
Governor Winthrop landed on these shores in June, 1630, and his wife
followed him in about a year. She lived till June, 1647, and was perhaps
as useful in her more private, as her husband in his public and highly
honorable, sphere. "A woman of singular virtue, prudence, modesty and
piety;" though dignified, she was condescending; and knowing her place,
she kept, and filled, and honored it. With undimmed and steady lustre,
she shone for sixteen years amid the shadows of night that overhung and
threatened the infant colony.
A PIONEER SETTLER'S ADVENTURE.
----Screw your courage up to the sticking place,
And we'll not fail.
SHAKSPEARE.
The first settler in Hollis, New Hampshire, was Captain Peter Powers. He
removed thither in 1731. His nearest neighbor, for a time, was ten miles
distant; and in order to exchange courtesies it was necessary for the
families to cross the Nashua river. It had but one convenient and safe
fording place in that vicinity, and that one only when the river was
low.
Having occasion, on a pleasant August morning, to visit her neighbor,
Mrs. Powers mounted a Narraganset, hastened away, and reached the place
of destination long before noon. Early in the after part of the day a
fearful thunderstorm came up, and continued for several hours. Just at
sunset the clouds began to break away, and Mrs. Powers immediately
started on her return. She did not reach the river until some time after
dark; and coming to the ford, she found the bank full and the water--as
a narrator of the incident has it--"pressing on it with great
rapidity." Added to this alarming circumstance, the wind had shifted and
rolled the clouds up the sky again, so that the rain was descending in
torrents, and drowning the threatening voice of the waves. Trusting to
the experienced animal to keep the ford, and giving a slack rein,
without realizing the danger, the courageous woman plunged into the
black stream. The steed almost instantly lost its foothold, and "rolling
in the waves at a full swim," made for the opposite shore. Missing the
ford, and striking a forefoot on a rock in the bed of the stream, the
animal was raised momentarily half way out of the water. Then plunging
forward, it sank so deep that Mrs. Powers was raised from the pommel;
but seizing the horse's mane as it rose, she held her grasp till they
were safely on shore. The faithful animal soon found the right track,
and in a brief hour Mrs. Powers was under the shelter of her cabin.
MRS. McKENNY.
More can I bear than you dare execute.
SHAKSPEARE.
"Not a great way from Steel's and Taylor's forts was a settlement
consisting of a few families, among which were those of William McKenny
and his brother James. These lived near Fishing creek. In the summer of
1761, sixteen Indians, with some squaws of the Cherokee tribe, took up
their abode for several weeks near what is called Simpson's shoals, for
the purpose of hunting and fishing during the hot months. In August, the
two McKennys being absent on a journey to Camden, William's wife,
Barbara, was left alone with several young children. One day she saw the
Indian women running towards her house in great haste, followed by the
men. She had no time to offer resistance; the squaws seized her and the
children, pulled them into the house, and shoved them behind the door,
where they immediately placed themselves on guard, pushing back the
Indians as fast as they tried to force their way in, and uttering the
most fearful outcries. Mrs. McKenny concluded it was their intention to
kill her, and expected her fate every moment. The assistance rendered by
the squaws, whether given out of compassion for a lonely mother, or in
return for kindness shown them,--proved effectual for her protection
until the arrival of one of the chiefs, who drew his long knife and
drove off the savages. The mother, apprehending another attack, went to
some of her neighbors and entreated them to come and stay with her.
Robert Brown and Joanna his wife, Sarah Ferguson, her daughter Sarah and
two sons, and a young man named Michael Melbury, came, in compliance
with her request, and took up their quarters in the house. The next
morning Mrs. McKenny ventured out alone to milk her cows. It had been
her practice heretofore to take some of the children with her, and she
could not explain why she went alone this time, though she was not free
from apprehension; it seemed to be so by a special ordering of
Providence. While she was milking, the Indians crept towards her on
their hands and knees; she heard not their approach, nor knew any thing
till they seized her. Sensible at once of all the horror of her
situation, she made no effort to escape, but promised to go quietly with
them. They then set off towards the house, holding her fast by the arm.
She had the presence of mind to walk as far off as possible from the
Indian who held her, expecting Melbury to fire as they approached her
dwelling. As they came up, he fired, wounding the one who held Mrs.
McKenny; she broke from his hold and ran, and another Indian pursued
and seized her. At this moment she was just at her own door, which John
Ferguson imprudently opening that she might enter, the Indians without
shot him dead as he presented himself. His mother ran to him and
received another shot in her thigh, of which she died in a few days.
Melbury, who saw that all their lives depended on prompt action, dragged
them from the door, fastened it, and repairing to the loft, prepared for
a vigorous defence. There were in all five guns; Sarah Ferguson loaded
for him, while he kept up a continual fire, aiming at the Indians
wherever one could be seen. Determined to effect their object of forcing
an entrance, some of the savages came very near the house, keeping under
cover of an outhouse in which Brown and his wife had taken refuge, not
being able, on the alarm, to get into the house. They had crept into a
corner and were crouched there close to the boarding. One of the
Indians, coming up, leaned against the outside, separated from them only
by a few boards, the crevices between which probably enabled them to see
him. Mrs. Brown proposed to take a sword that lay by them and run the
savage through the body, but her husband refused; he expected death, he
said, every moment, and did not wish to go out of the world having his
hands crimsoned with the blood of any fellow creature. 'Let me die in
peace,' were his words, 'with all the world.' Joanna, though in the same
peril, could not respond to the charitable feeling. 'If I am to die,'
she said, 'I should like first to send some of the redskins on the
journey. But we are not so sure we have to die; don't you hear the crack
of Melbury's rifle? He holds the house. I warrant you that redskin
looked awfully scared as he leaned against the corner here. We could
have done it in a moment.'