Chapter V: Introduction (1)

The circumstances out of which the following Essay, with its accompanying Sketch of the Author’s Life, originated, are as remarkable as they are deeply interesting and hopeful. Jealous for the honour of God’s Sabbath, which men of the world were periling--jealous for the privileges to man conferred by the Sabbath--jealous for the labouring man, whose feelings respecting the Sabbath were often misrepresented to his disadvantage, a layman resolved to afford an opportunity for the working classes to speak their own mind freely on the matter, and to bear their testimony to the blessings and privileges of the day, and thereby to the glory of God, the author and giver of it. With these views, he put forth a proposal, about the end of the year 1847, offering three prizes--of £25, £15, and £10, respectively--for the three best Essays on the subject, written by labouring men. Although this is the first instance upon record of persons of that class being invited to become competitors in literature, and for literary honours; and although comparatively a very brief time was allowed for preparing and sending in the Essays, yet three months--the first three of the year 1848--sufficed to produce the astonishing number of more than nine hundred and fifty compositions, manifesting by the single fact, without reference to the merits of these productions, the wide-spread interest and deeply-rooted principles with which the holy day of God is reverenced, loved, and honoured, by the labouring people.

Amongst the Essays received was one from a female, accompanied by a letter, which will be found at the conclusion of this Introduction, and which the reader will peruse with interest, as indicating the habitual tone of Divine and filial piety which pervades the mind of the writer. The Essay itself was found to be correspondent in tone and spirit with the letter. It is, indeed, a composition of no ordinary kind, whether we regard the source from whence it came, the instructive matter it contains, or the manner in which the materials are worked up in the composition, and the diction in which they are expressed. The Adjudicators, although, in faithfulness to the other competitors, constrained to lay it aside, as the work of a female, yet felt at the same time that it was a production which ought not to be withheld from the world, and that it was a duty as much to humanity as to the talented writer herself, not to suffer it to return to privacy and forgetfulness. It was, therefore, proposed to her to allow of its publication, independently of the forthcoming Prize Essays when adjudged, and she was requested, at the same time, to write a sketch of her life to prefix to the Essay when published. In both of these proposals she willingly acquiesced; and the reader has before him two equally remarkable and interesting compositions, the Essay and the Sketch.[1]

[1] It may be proper to state, that in preparing the Essay and Sketch for publication, no liberty has been taken with the author’s composition, farther than to render the language correct. For the satisfaction of any persons who may wish to see the manuscript, it can be inspected at the publishers.--ED.

To an ordinary mind the preparation of the latter would have been even more difficult than the former. Here was the opportunity for and danger of egotism. But here also was the opportunity for the exhibition and proof of real talent, and of genuine piety. To sink self, and to elevate principles, should be the sole object of autobiography. To effect this in a sketch is even more difficult than in a tale of life. It requires the hand of a master to give off with the pencil those few but telling touches that convert surface into substance, and place on the blank void forms of life, and grace, and comeliness. And no less talent does it demand to portray in words those truthful and instructive scenes which the homes of the godly present, amid which our authoress lived and was nourished, and of which it may justly be said that she is herself one of their noblest ornaments.

Our authoress has learned by experience, and has ably developed in her sketch, some of the most useful and valuable lessons of life. One of these is beautifully and powerfully given in the following words: “How often are opportunities of doing small acts of kindness and usefulness let slip, while we are sighing over our narrow sphere and our limited means of serving God or benefiting man!” Would it not be a melancholy and unwholesome sentimentality that should sit down and lament over itself as having no space capacious enough for its designs, and no arena worthy of its visions, instead of contenting itself with the many common opportunities of doing good which every-day life supplies? It may sound, indeed, well to sigh over oneself in such circumstances,

“Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air;”

and, by appropriating the idea to our own condition, hug ourselves with the fancy that we would, if we might, make ourselves widely useful in our generation; but far nobler, surely, and far more worthy of our imitation, is the devout and holy thought expressed in the following stanza:

“The trivial round, the common task,
Should furnish all we ought to ask;
Room to deny ourselves; a road
To bring us, daily, nearer God.”

How admirably are brought out, in every part of this Sketch, some of those lessons most profitable for the wife and the mother to practise! What a valuable one, for example, is this! My mother “used to say that it was disagreeable and improper to be bustling about while father was within; and when he was gone out, the work must be done up.” Oh that wives and mothers understood and practised this wisely and well! What different scenes would the cottager’s home present if they did! How many a man would be saved from the alehouse fireside, where comfort and convenience are studied to seduce him into sin, if wives and mothers would but so order their households that when the father returns his coming shall be welcomed by cleanliness and peace, and his home shall be made to him the most blessed and grateful place that he can find!

What a beautiful family picture is this whole Sketch! No wonder that our authoress is capable of being such a daughter, when she has had such a mother to instruct her. Think, reader, of the child repeating her lessons beside the wash-tub, and gleaning the rudiments of learning in so simple a school, and from such a preceptor; and then turn to the pages of this Sketch and Essay, and as you read, and admire, and wonder, as you must, adore humbly as you ought, and exclaim, What hath God wrought! It is His work. It is the edifying effect and power of His grace. To Him be all the glory and the praise!

LETTER REFERRED TO IN PAGE 15.

“SIR,--I have thought it unnecessary to inquire whether a female might be permitted to enter among the competitors for the prizes offered in your advertisement. The subject of the Essay is of equal interest to woman as to man; and this being the case, I have looked upon your restriction as merely confining this effort to the working classes. Whether I judge rightly or not, matters but little; the effort I have made to gather a few thoughts together upon this subject will at least be of use to myself; and should you consider these sheets as containing any thoughts of value, they are at your disposal. They cannot be expected to be free from errors, both in diction and orthography, as this is the first effort of the kind I have ever made; and I may say I am one of those who never enjoyed the advantage of attending school in early days, except for two years, or rather for one; for it was but for two years that one of my sisters and myself attended a sewing-school alternately; one of us remaining at home one week, to assist mother with household labour, or in attending to the younger children, and going to school next week, while the other remained at home. Since that time I have been constantly occupied in household labour, either in my father’s house, or as a servant in other families; and thus I may truly say, that all the education I have enjoyed, was received at the fireside of hard-working parents. While memory lasts I shall never forget the indefatigable exertions of our beloved mother to impart intelligence to our minds, and implant moral principle in her children. How we used to enjoy our Sabbaths! When our father bent his knees, with his children around, on the morning of the Lord’s day, how fervently he used to thank the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ for its blessed hours! That father is gone from among his children; but his voice yet falls upon my ear, and his form yet rises before my eye, as upon the first day of the week he used to read to us the sacred page, and lead our devotions.”

SKETCH OF THE AUTHOR’S LIFE.

The following sketch of my past history, which, at your request, I furnish, can be of little interest or value, any farther than perhaps leading the minds of Christian parents properly to estimate the importance of the duties devolving upon them, and begetting a higher appreciation of the value of the weekly rest, as affording an opportunity to all Christians, however poor their circumstances, or laborious their employment, of imparting instruction to their offspring. It may tend also to show that no Christian mother, with the Bible in her hand, and possessing the power of reading and understanding the blessed truths it reveals, can plead excuse if she allow her children to grow up in ignorance of those truths, the knowledge of which would lead them in safety and happiness through all the temptations to which youth is exposed in this world of folly and wickedness.

If she properly estimates the importance of the blessings imparted by the knowledge of God, and really feels the power of the love of God in her own heart, poverty may surround her, the pressure of domestic cares may lie heavily upon her, or she may be engaged in the most menial and laborious employment, but, in the midst of all this, she will find opportunity to awaken and enlighten the young minds of her offspring. It is the duty of Christian parents, in whatever situation in life, to train up their children in the nurture and admonition of the Lord; and it is a duty which they can entrust to no one else without a direct violation of the command of their Saviour, and incurring a fearful risk as regards the well-being of their children.

Is it not a strange sight, to see a Christian parent so deeply involved in business, so engrossed with the cares of this life, or so occupied with other matters, however important, that he is compelled to entrust the moral and religious training of his children to a hireling?--a preacher so much engaged in proclaiming the Gospel to sinners in the world, that he has no time to lead his own little ones to the feet of Jesus?--a father so occupied with the improvement of his neighbours, with Sabbath-schools, prayer and class meetings, or evening lectures and sermons, that he has no leisure to lead, in proper season, the devotions of his own little circle at home? Such a man substitutes his own way for the will of God; and, in so far as he does so, the consequences will be seen in the future character of his children; and even he himself will suffer loss in the health of his own soul.

Parents, with the Bible in their hands, and the word of God hidden in their hearts, having the blessed hours of Sabbath rest as their birthright, however humble their circumstances or toilsome their life, can never be entirely destitute of an opportunity for training and instructing their offspring.

In glancing back on the years of childhood, and tracing the influences which have surrounded me through youth, I am convinced, that, in so far as my mind has been awakened to intelligence, and my character formed to virtue, under God, I owe all to my parents, but especially to my mother: her earnest and indefatigable exertions, in the face of difficulties which would have deterred any common mind from attempting such a task, together with her ceaseless watchfulness, secured for us such an amount of knowledge, and formed in us such habits, as raised us above the temptations which usually beset youth in the humble walks of life. While the constant necessity existed, as soon as we were able to do anything--for all our exertions toward the support of the family allowed us little time to cultivate acquaintances, whether injurious or beneficial--our mother’s constant endeavour was, even through the very early years of childhood, to keep our hands and heads fully employed.

Memory carries me back to a period when my parents, with five little ones around them, tenanted an obscure garret in the outskirts of one of the principal towns of Scotland. By some of those vicissitudes common to all, my father was, at this time, out of employment; hardships were endured, pinching want sometimes visited their fireside. Of these things I have heard, but have no recollection of them, as I could not then be much more than four years old. Yet a shadowy vision sometimes rises before me of a broad paved street, along which I was running on before our father in joyful haste, that I might be the first to apprise mother that the meeting was dismissed; but as to whether the place of assembly we had just left was an upper chamber where a handful of disciples met together, or a large and fashionable edifice, memory supplies nothing. A dim dreary scene, too, sometimes passes before me of some back yard or lane where I was standing with my hand in my father’s, gazing with childish delight, and, at the same time, with a feeling of awe and admiration, upon the starry heavens. I know not what, at that moment, led my eye to the bright scene over head; nor yet what fixed these two incidents of my childhood so indelibly upon my memory, for they are associated, in my mind, with nothing particular of which I ever heard any one speak; but they are almost the only recollections I have of the short time spent in this place.

I think that before this time I must have been pretty far advanced in reading, as I have no remembrance of ever learning, or having any difficulty with common books. Our father, at the time alluded to, was exerting himself to find a settled situation as a gardener, and, in the mean time, taking whatever work he could get in the small gardens in the neighbourhood. He was soon noticed as an active and tasteful gardener, and received into the employment of a gentleman whose property lay in that part of Scotland known by the name of Strathmore, or “the great valley.”

The dwelling we now entered was very pleasantly situated near a river called the South Esk, which flows through that part of the country. Between it and the highway was a large field, with a belt of trees on the side next the house; on the other side lay the garden; while beneath the garden, stretching to the river, was what we used to call the haugh, a flat little meadow.

Our dwelling in appearance was not unlike one of those houses which are tenanted by farmers in the south-east of Scotland. Its dimensions, its blue slated roof, and its smooth grass plot, encircled with a gravel walk before the door, bespoke it the abode, if not of affluence, at least of competence. It had not, when planned, been intended as the abode of a servant, but as a residence for the proprietor’s mother, who having been removed by death, we were permitted to occupy it. Had the reader visited that spot in the spring of the year, when the young plantations were arrayed in bright green, the music of wild birds welcoming the morning, while the cowslip, the meadow-crocus, and the primrose studded the banks, and the butter-ball, the wild geranium, and numberless flowers besides, were shooting up amid the tangled maze of yellow whins and broom, wild rose, and scented sweet brier, which covered that little haugh; or had he sauntered down to the river, walked along the pebbles on its shore, and seen the little trout sparkling in the sunbeam as it leaped at the insects that sported upon the surface of the water, he would have called it a pleasant dwelling-place. It was indeed a sunny spot, and the gay children who used to ramble at will amid its beauties, were as happy a little band as could have been found.

Yet, freely though they wandered among the surrounding pleasure grounds, they were carefully taught to avoid putting their foot in an improper place, or setting forth a hand to injure shrub or tree; and this in itself was calculated to form and strengthen in us a habit of self-restraint. Even in infancy our parents began our moral training; a prompt and cheerful submission to parental authority was the first habit they sought to form; and this once accomplished, the instruction and training of youth are comparatively easy. As soon as we became capable of understanding the reasons which influenced them in their conduct towards us, we were taught that our parents were the guardians placed over us by our Creator, in his kind care for our welfare, and that it was his will, that to them we should in all things cheerfully submit ourselves without hesitation or murmuring.

I have often thought, when I have seen children allowed to demand a reason for every trifling order, numerous reasons and excuses having to be discussed, and thus a long altercation entered into between parent and child, in the shape of reasoning, before a lesson could be attended to, or the most trivial command obeyed, what an incalculable amount of evil is done to children by such treatment! Not only is time wasted, but self-will is fostered, and a habit of tardy performance of duty induced.

Few parents seem to comprehend how soon even a very young child may be made to understand such language as this: God, who lives in heaven, made us all; he gave mother her little son that I might take care of him, be kind to him, and teach him to be good. He says little children must obey father and mother, and he would be angry with me and punish me if I allowed my boy to be naughty and disobedient. Such language firmly and kindly spoken by a parent, even to a very young child, and steadily and consistently acted upon, will very soon subdue the self-will of the most wayward, and thus render future training easy to both parent and child.

Such was, in principle, the training to which we were subjected in our early years. Obedience--immediate, cheerful obedience, and the strictest regard to truth, lay at the foundation of all our other training. A thousand little follies, mistakes, and even graver faults might be passed over, but disobedience and falsehood were unpardonable. Yet there was nothing of sternness or severity in the conduct of our parents towards us. Perhaps no mother ever lavished more fond caresses upon her children, or exerted herself more to make their time pass happily, and no father was ever more anxious to secure the comfort and happiness of his family.

Pleasantly did the days and hours pass over us, during our residence in this secluded spot: there was no school within reach, and if there had, our father’s small income would not have allowed our education to be paid for, without greatly diminishing the comforts of the family; therefore, it had to be attended to at home. One by one, we used to take our place beside our mother, read a short lesson, have the larger words explained to us, when our mother would take the book and read it over again slowly and distinctly, that we might the better understand what we had been reading; and then we were at liberty to indulge in active and healthful amusement, or we were engaged in some useful and necessary employment. Four times a day, usually, each of us had our short lesson; and if it be considered that the whole of the labour of the house devolved upon our mother, it will be believed that this could be no light task; nothing, however, was allowed to interrupt our lessons: and it was no uncommon thing to see her busy at the washing-tub while we by turns took our place beside her; one child would be found attending to the baby, another gathering sticks and keeping the fire alive, a third engaged in reading, and a fourth bringing water from a pure, soft spring, at some distance from the house; while our eldest brother assisted father in the garden.

Our morning lesson was usually from the Scriptures, but throughout the day from other books. Our parents were, themselves, as eager to obtain knowledge as they were anxious to impart it to us. An hour was allowed for meals: when our father came to breakfast or dinner, as soon as the repast was finished, (and a working man in health does not usually loiter over his meals,) our mother used to read aloud till the hour was finished, either with the youngest child upon her knee, or, if it was in the cradle, knitting while she read. She used to say, that it was disagreeable and improper to be bustling about while father was within; and when he was gone out, the work must be done up.

At these times, books of every kind that came to hand were read, unless, indeed, there was in their language or morality something very bad. Nor were any of us, so far as I recollect, ever restricted in our reading; books of all kinds, which came within our reach, were free to us. Some may be disposed to condemn this laxity, as they may consider it; but with the limited means our parents possessed of purchasing books, and being far distant from any town or village where they might have had a choice from a library, it was not strange that all that by any means came to hand should be eagerly perused: books were not then so plentiful, nor so various, as at present.

Well do I remember my brother finding a torn leaf of a little school-book in a bush in the haugh--it had been caught there when the stream was swollen by heavy rains. What a prize it was! one by one, we committed it to memory, while stretched upon the daisied sward, during the sunny hours of a summer Sabbath-day; and I do not believe that there is one of the young group who then learned the beautiful hymn that stray leaf contained, who does not retain its simple words indelibly impressed upon the memory, and feel in a renewed heart the influences of the blessed truths taught in its lines. It was the hymn beginning,

“Among the deepest shades of night,
Can there be One who sees my way?”

If our parents’ plan of reading, and allowing us to read, all that came in the way, had any danger in it, it was in our case counteracted by the free conversation about what was read, which usually followed, and by the duty constantly inculcated, and practised by themselves, of reading and searching the Scriptures as the standard by which every practice, principle and opinion, in religion or morality, must be tested. We were taught to view the Bible as the words of an infallible Teacher, by which the instructions of every other were to be tried, and only to be received in so far as they were in accordance with this heaven-descended guide: we were, thus early, led to analyse what we read, to exercise our understandings upon whatever came in our way, and to receive nothing as truth, until it had been put to the test of the Divine word.

Our Sabbaths were our happiest days; we were near no place of public worship--not so near, at least, as to permit any of the children often to attend. As soon as we were dressed and had breakfasted, family prayer was attended to, and then our father would point out some hymn or passage of Scripture which he wished us to learn, when we would sally forth, book in hand, in different directions, one to stretch himself upon the soft grass in the field close by, another to pace backward and forward on the pleasure walk, or to find a seat in the bough of an old bushy tree; while another would seek a little summer-house our father had made of heather, and seated round with the twisted boughs of the glossy birch, each reading aloud till the allotted lesson was thoroughly fixed upon our minds. If the day was wet, or if it was the winter season, we would gather around the table by the window. During the afternoon, mother would read to us, or all of us, father and mother included, read by turns; questions were then asked, and conversation entered into, about what we had been reading.

See page 40]

It was upon one of these occasions, when some remarks made by one of my parents in endeavouring to call our attention to the truth that we must be changed, renewed in the image of God; or, to take up the simple figurative expression then made use of, that we must have _new hearts_, else we never could be happy with our Father in heaven, that an impression was made upon my mind, never to be effaced: from that hour, through all my follies and all my waywardness, the thought of that new heart still haunted me, until I indeed found peace with God through Jesus Christ, and felt the renewing power of the truth of God.

Viewing the practice of allowing children to consider their lessons as a part of their amusement, as pernicious in its tendency, as calculated to induce a habit of trifling with serious things, and to form a giddy, frivolous character, our parents never permitted anything like levity in attending to our lessons; we never were allowed to consider them as a recreation, but as serious, though cheerful employment, which must never be trifled with, but seriously and earnestly engaged in. A uniform veneration for the word of God was evinced by themselves, and if we read or repeated any part of it, we were taught to do so seriously; if a hymn was recited, or any piece in which the name of our Creator might occur, we were accustomed to do so in a solemn and attentive manner.

We had been about six years in this place, when my father’s master died, and his lady kindly recommended him to her brother, who was in want of a gardener. We now removed to the east of Scotland; and our dwelling, until the death of the former gardener, who was laid aside by age, was two rooms, rented for us, in the adjoining village. About two years after our arrival, his decease allowed us to remove to what was to us a pleasanter abode, as being a little more secluded, but otherwise possessing little advantage. There, several of us attended a female school, supported by the lady, for the instruction of the children of servants upon the estate.

Our attendance, from various causes, was by no means regular; the necessity for one of us remaining at home, to assist our mother, prevented regular attendance, and the change from a dry inland situation, to a low, damp locality, upon the east coast, so affected our health, that, for many years, the spring of the year turned our dwelling almost into an hospital. The loss of time and expense incident upon sickness, in our circumstances, were keenly felt; however, experience gradually taught us how to manage sickness without so much medical attendance as we at first required. My brothers procured employment in the neighbourhood, and I entered the house of my father’s master.

I had little relish for the society I was thrown into in this place; all my habits and pursuits were at entire variance with what my fellow-servants practised; though the light of the Gospel had not yet entered my mind--it was only struggling for an entrance.

When I now look back to that period of mental conflict, I am convinced that my darkness and difficulty arose, not from any mystery thrown around the beautiful simplicity of the Gospel by my teachers, but that I entertained a secret unwillingness to yield up my own will, and my own wishes; my heart was divided--I was striving to serve God and Mammon; the love of the world, and the things of the world, shut out the light of the glorious Gospel; and it was not till my heart was subdued by the love of God, till I became willing to do, or be, or submit to, anything which God required, that I found peace--then I saw God as my Father in Jesus, receiving me freely, through him; the burden of guilt was removed, and I was led in the paths of obedience by love.

I had been a few years in my situation, when my mother’s health being very much impaired, I felt it my duty to return home. There were now ten of us, besides our father and mother: my eldest brother was employed in the garden; my second worked with a tradesman in the neighbourhood; and two of my sisters were employed in the family I had left; while five younger brothers and sisters were at school. The eldest of these was soon after engaged by the village teacher as his assistant.

When at home, our Sabbaths were spent much in the same manner as formerly, only we had now the opportunity of attending public worship; and instead of merely conversing, we had begun to try and commit our thoughts to writing. Our parents would request us to state our reasons for certain parts of our belief, or our ideas of the meaning of certain passages of Scripture; we would also, often exert ourselves to give expression to our thoughts in a verse or two of poetry. At these times, several of us would apply our minds to one subject, and it was interesting to observe the different forms our thoughts would assume.

Our mother’s health was re-established, and our circle of acquaintance widened, but not much, for few in the same walk in life as ourselves sympathized with us in our pursuits, and we had as little relish for theirs: our time fully occupied, we never felt the power of the temptations to evil to which young persons, in the same circumstances, are usually exposed: we had been carefully taught in early childhood, that

“Satan finds some mischief still,
For idle hands to do;”

and idle empty hearts, too, he will fill with sin and folly. I firmly believe, that the only safety from temptation in this world of sin, in this state of weakness, is to have our hearts full of the love of God, our understandings enlightened by the truth of God, and our hands actively engaged in whatever useful employment the providence of God places within our reach; never sighing over our limited opportunities of doing good, never repining that we are not placed in situations, and endowed with talents to do and suffer great things for the cause of Christ, or fretting, because our opportunities of improvement are few and small.

This has been my most besetting sin, and the most powerful temptation to which I have been exposed; and, so far as it has prevailed, it has lessened my usefulness, and retarded my improvement. Could we comprehend how great is the blessedness of being permitted to be fellow-workers with God, we should not thus trifle with the opportunities afforded us of doing what we can; but feeling that we are called to an honour and felicity far above anything we can deserve, eagerly seize the slightest, if it be but to whisper a word of truth in the ear of the poorest child, to lure on and assist some ignorant one to spell out and understand a passage, a phrase, or even a word of the book of God, or even to minister to the comfort and happiness of those around us in the things of this life. Thus our Father in heaven stooped to lavish kindness and care upon man’s mortal frame, to throw the sweets of summer at his feet, and hang the luxuries of autumn overhead, to enamel the field, to paint the flower, and carve the leaf; and shall we disdain to lay hold of every opportunity of ministering in the slightest degree, or in the humblest way, to the comfort and enjoyment of those around us? And yet how often are opportunities of doing small acts of kindness and usefulness let slip, while we are sighing over our narrow sphere and our limited means of serving God, or benefiting man!

For a considerable time our family circle was unbroken; however, by the marriage, at different times, of four members of the family, six only remained around our parents. Sorrow might have had a resting-place in the bosoms of some of that family circle, but to the eye of lookers-on they were happy as ever. But change, death, and sorrow were to come. Our beloved father was suddenly and unexpectedly removed from among us, and a long course of illness in the family followed on his departure. Illness prevented for a time our removal from the abode which had so long sheltered us, and where we had spent so many happy days.

At this time, however, we all recovered; but shortly after our removal to another residence, five of us were again prostrated by fever, and our youngest sister--our gentle, quiet, affectionate sister, she who lived but for the happiness of those around her--was removed.

I am now residing with three sisters and our youngest brother, under the roof of our widowed mother; other two relatives live with us, and I am still engaged in my old occupation of managing the house, which I have never quitted since I returned on account of my mother’s health, except for about two years, when I was in the service of others.

Many sources of enjoyment and comfort have been removed; but the spring to which our beloved and revered parents led us in our early years, that fountain whence issued our sweetest and purest enjoyments, is still open to us, even the well of living waters which never can be dried up; and though those loved ones are departed, and we cannot but feel the loss of their society, we are happy in the hope of soon meeting them, where there are pleasures for evermore. Religion--the knowledge of God--has been to us our strength and our happiness, the source of all we have enjoyed worth calling enjoyment: it has been the sunshine which, in the hour of prosperity, has made earth fair unto us as the bowers of Eden; and when the darkness of adversity encompassed us, it has been the star whose beaming indicated the approach of the morning’s brightness.

=THE PEARL OF DAYS.=

Man is not left, even in this state of existence, like the lower animals, to draw his chief happiness from the indulgence of his appetites, or to be led by the blind, but unerring impulse of instinct, to his chief good. He is endowed with reasoning powers and moral sentiments, which require to be enlightened and exercised, in order to their proper direction and healthful development. His happiness is as inseparably connected with the cultivation and exercise of the faculties of his mind, as it is with the healthful development and proper exercise of his bodily organs. We meet with abundant proof of this in the state of savage tribes, who shelter themselves in clay-built hovels, wrap themselves in the skins of beasts, and obtain a precarious subsistence from the scanty produce of the uncultivated ground, or the flesh of wild animals. If we compare their means of sustaining life, their sources of enjoyment, their religious worship, their daily habits, and their daily labours, in a word, their whole state, with the state of a civilized and enlightened community--even could we bring ourselves to look upon man as merely an intelligent and improvable animal, formed exclusively for this present life--we are irresistibly led to the conclusion, that whatever tends to elevate or refine his nature, to give to his reasoning faculties and his moral sentiments a controlling power over his appetites and propensities, is of vast importance to his well-being. It guards him from evils to which, while his animal nature is left without due restraint from his higher faculties and sentiments, he is exposed, opens to him sources of enjoyment, and discovers supplies, of which, while his intellectual nature is uncultivated, he is incapable of availing himself.

The labour to which, in the present state of society, the majority of the working population of our country is subjected, in order to obtain their subsistence, is of that incessant and tasking nature, which, when the daily hours of toil are closed, leaves the system too much exhausted for mental application or intellectual enjoyment. Hence, among those of the labouring classes who are not led by religious principle to avail themselves of the opportunities for self-improvement which the weekly rest affords, we find, with comparatively few exceptions, low and degrading pursuits the principal sources of their amusement; while their highest enjoyments are derived from the gratification of their appetites and propensities. Nor is this strange; no one who has for any considerable length of time been subjected to severe and unremitting toil, whose employment called for the exertion of his muscular power till real fatigue ensued, will deny, that, while in such a state, man is equally incapable of availing himself of the more refined pleasure of social intercourse, or of the improvement to be derived from mental application; that the craving is for animal gratification, or nervous excitement; and that a continued routine of such labour, without the seventh-day rest, would soon sink the labouring population into a condition worse than that of absolute barbarism. This is no merely speculative theory; we have only to enter into social intercourse with those around us, to meet with more than abundant proofs of its reality.

Were it possible, then, to view man as only formed for this world--as a mere link in the chain of causation--doing his little part, enjoying his brief existence, and then reduced again to his original elements, passing away alike forgetting and forgotten; and were we to regard the Sabbath as merely a civil institution, the appointment of human government; even thus separated from all its religious relations, it would, were it possible for man destitute of the knowledge of God, to improve the opportunities afforded by it, confer benefits upon working men which they could not otherwise obtain. The Sabbath limits, to some extent, the power of employers, whom selfishness and avarice, in not a few instances, have rendered alike regardless of the comfort and the health of their servants; and secures to those whose daily avocations require their absence from the family circle, the pleasures and the comforts of home; the softening and refining influence of family relations and domestic intercourse. Its rest refreshes and invigorates the physical constitution, and affords time to apply the mind to the attainment of useful knowledge: it ought therefore to command the respect of all who are sincerely desirous of promoting the improvement of the working population.

But it is impossible thus to regard man. Man has a spiritual, never-dying, as surely as he has an animal and mortal nature, which act and re-act upon each other, so that the well-being of the one is essential to the well-being of the other. He, therefore, who would confine man’s views to this world, and limit his endeavours after happiness to the present life, snatches from him, along with the hopes of the future, the riches of the present. Debarred from his Father’s house and his Father’s table, he will soon be wallowing in the mire of ignorance and vice, and feeding on the husks of sensual indulgence. He who chains man to continuous and unremitting exertion of his physical system, unfits his mind for activity, and degrades him to a condition little above that of a beast of burden. The Sabbath, then, must be viewed in its relation to every part of man’s nature, in its influence upon him as a whole, before we can fully appreciate even the merely temporal benefits it is calculated to confer upon the human family.

Some have said, that another arrangement would be more beneficial,--that, were more time for repose allotted to each day without a Sabbath, the purposes of Sabbath rest would be more fully attained. Were the Sabbath a human institution, appointed by earthly legislators, for purposes relating to this life, this point might be open to discussion. As it is not the institution of man, however, but that of our all-wise Creator, I shall merely ask those who advocate such a change, how they propose to bring it about? and how preserve it, when once obtained? Is it not that the Sabbath claims to be an institution of Heaven, and thus laying hold of man’s conscience, ensures attention to its demands from all who fear God and tremble at his word--is it not its appearing in this character which secures to it any degree of attention and respect from society? It is the influences of the Sabbath which will yet introduce a better regulated system of labour during the week; and he who would abolish it as a step towards such an improvement, flings away the most safe and certain means of accomplishing his object.

It is only by the advancement of the labouring classes themselves in intelligence and civilization, that any really important or beneficial change can ever take place in the regulation of labour; but even were such a change effected, were the hours of daily toil considerably shortened, would there not still be abundant room for a Sabbath? How are the moral and intellectual character, the tastes and habits of working men to be elevated, without the opportunities and the influences of this institution?

He who would abolish the Sabbath, and distribute its hours among the days of the week, that he might increase the comfort, and improve the character and the condition of working men, would act as a builder would do, who should dig up the foundations of a house, that he might obtain materials wherewith to finish its upper story. Religion, like the Father of lights, from whom it emanates, bestows abundance of blessings upon many who know not the bounteous Hand from whence they come; and the Sabbath, one of its most glorious and beneficent institutions, confers numerous benefits even upon that portion of society who, trifling with its sacred obligations, and spurning its salutary restraints, fail to reap from it that amount of good which it is so well calculated to afford them.

We can form no just estimate of what the condition and circumstances of the human race would have been, if left entirely destitute of religion, from our intercourse with those who, though perversely refusing submission to its government, have, while their being was dawning, their mind and habits forming, been surrounded by its light and influences, and who, in their childhood and youth, have partaken largely of the blessings which this heaven-bestowed institution, the Christian Sabbath, affords. No; it is only from the condition and character of those tribes of mankind who have little or no vestige of revelation among them, that we are enabled to form a correct idea of what our state would have been, had the pure light of Christianity never dawned upon us. So, in like manner, in judging of the importance of this Divine institution, we must compare the condition and the habits of a labouring population who have never known a Sabbath, whose bodies the Sabbath rest has never refreshed, and whose minds Sabbath instruction and Sabbath exercise have, to no extent, strengthened or cultivated, awakened or enlightened. We must compare their character and condition, their hearths and homes, with the hearths and homes, the state and character, not of the mere Sabbath sleeper, or Sabbath dresser, or even of the mere church attender or sermon hearer, but of those who, with activity and energy, avail themselves of all the opportunities of self-improvement and family culture which the Christian Sabbath is so well fitted to afford, before we can have any correct idea of even the merely temporal benefits which the Sabbath is calculated to confer upon the labouring population, or of the immense loss its discontinuance would prove to the temporal interests of society.

Even as a cessation from labour, as a rest to the worn-out frame, the Sabbath is no trifling boon to the bowed-down sons of toil. When we look upon it merely as a day on which the most toil-worn drudge unchidden may stretch his wearied limbs upon the couch of rest; whereon the most dusty, sweaty, dirt-smeared endurer of the consequences of man’s transgression may wash himself clean, dress genteelly, and enjoy the society of his fellow-men; a day when he, who, during the six days of labour, must eat his dry, cold, hurried, and comfortless dinner alone, can sit in leisure and comfort, in the society of beloved relatives, with the clean, shining, glad faces of his little ones around him, and his wife, clean and neat, as upon her bridal-day, by his side, and enjoy his neatly-prepared, though homely, repast; a day when brothers and sisters, early forced, by necessity, from the parental roof, to seek a hard-earned subsistence elsewhere, may weekly enjoy each other’s society amid the blessed influences of the home of their childhood--the Sabbath, though looked upon as bestowing only privileges like these upon working men, must command the respect of every enlightened and philanthropic mind. But when viewed as a day in which all this is associated with the hallowed influences of religion--in which man enjoys the pleasures of social intercourse blended with, and elevated by, the most sacred and purifying associations--in which the body enjoys repose, not only that the mind may be fitted for exertion, but that it may engage in the study of subjects supremely important to man, that it may apply itself to the contemplation of themes the most sublime and interesting--a day in which men not only meet together that they may be instructed, strengthened, and refined, by intercourse with each other, that mind may have communion with mind, and heart with heart; but in which they are invited to meet with God himself; that their minds may have communion with His mind, and their hearts with His heart; that they may be instructed, strengthened, and refined, by the wisdom and love of God; that they may be moulded in His image, and renewed in His likeness;--it seems strange that any one who believes man to be possessed of a moral and intellectual nature, capable of improvement, should set light by, or trifle with, such an institution; and passing strange, that those who name the name of Christ, who profess to be His followers who emphatically taught that the Sabbath was made for man, should despise such a privilege, fling away its hallowed restraints, and disregard its sacred obligations.

It needs but a glance at the toilsome life of our rural or our manufacturing population, to convince any one that the Sabbath, viewed merely in relation to man’s temporal well-being, is of great value to the working man. The important influence which the frequent return of such a day, with all its cheering and inspiriting exercises and associations, must have upon the health of those who observe it, is not to be overlooked. The wearied frame is refreshed and invigorated, the depressed spirits enlivened, and the flagging energy restored;--while its public observances call for such attention to personal appearance as cannot fail to have a beneficial effect at once upon the habits and the constitution, as also to form a strong inducement to exertion for the improvement of their condition. Hence it is, that, when we enter the house of the church-going, Sabbath-keeping labourer, we generally find a marked difference between it and the home of him who rarely or never enters a place of worship, and who regards not the sacred claims of the day.

In the house of the Sabbath-observing, church-attending labourer--even though, as is too often the case, he should know little or nothing of the vital power of religion, though his observance be mere outward observance, and his religion but form--we observe useful, though sometimes rude furniture, clothing, and food, cleanliness and comfort, a cheerful fire on the hearth, and a few books on the shelf; everything indicating some little relish for the conveniences and comforts of civilized life.

On Saturday evening, there is washing of little faces, combing and brushing of flaxen heads, laying out of clean little frocks and pinafores, or jet black shoes set ready for little feet, that, without hurry or confusion, clean and neat, they may be ready on Sabbath morning to accompany father or mother, or, if possible, both, to the place

“Where Christians meet to praise and pray,
To hear of heaven, and learn the way;”

or that they may trip joyously to their beloved Sabbath-school, there to sing of that happy land where every eye is bright, of that glorious city, the streets of which are of pure gold, where the water of life is continually flowing in a broad river, clear as crystal, from the throne of God and of the Lamb, into which nothing that defileth can enter, neither whatsoever loveth or maketh a lie; to learn, that to depart from evil is the highway to those blessed mansions of love, and joy, and life everlasting--that that highway is called holiness; and to be told, in childhood’s own simple language, of the love of Him who is himself the way, for he shall save his people from their sins; how he said, “Suffer little children to come unto me,” and took them up in his arms, and blessed them; how, when they have journeyed along the rugged path of this toilsome life, those that come unto God by him shall never again taste of death or sorrow, pain or disease; for the Lamb, which is in the midst of the throne, shall feed them, and lead them to living fountains of waters, and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes.

What do we find in the place of all this, in the home, and among the children of the working man who profanes the sacred hours of the Sabbath? Squalor and wretchedness force themselves upon our observation. The appearance of the house and its inmates tell, in language not to be mistaken, what would be the condition of working men, were this blessed day, with all its exalting and purifying influences, set aside. How often, on Saturday night, are the children tossed into bed unwashed and uncombed, while the mother puts their few rags of clothing in the washing-tub, and then hangs them up by the dusty hearth, that they may be dry in the morning! Even this little attention to cleanliness, partial as it is, is of some benefit, and the benefit, so far as it goes, is from the Sabbath; for, were it not for that regard to appearance, and those ideas of decency which the public observances of the Sabbath have introduced, the skin and the clothing of the working man and his children would seldom indeed be subjected to the refreshing and purifying process of washing.

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Of the truth of this, did the limits of this little essay permit, or did the time and circumstances of the writer allow of such researches, I venture to affirm that abundant evidence could be presented from the state and habits, in regard to personal cleanliness, of the labouring population of any country where the Sabbath is disregarded, as compared with the condition and habits of the same class in countries where the Sabbath is observed as a day of public assembly for religious worship; or from the habits of the lower classes of our own, or of any other country, before the introduction of the Christian Sabbath, as compared with their habits in this respect, after the Sabbath has been for some time received and regarded among them, as at once a day of cessation from ordinary labour, and a season for public religious observances. And if the important influence which cleanliness has upon health and comfort be taken into account, the improvement of their habits in this respect will be allowed to be no trifling advantage resulting from the Sabbath to the labouring population.