The Shepherd of Salisbury Plain and Other Tales Part 11

Mrs. Jones, who knew the world, told her agent, Mrs. Crew, that her grand difficulty would arise not so much from the children as the parents. These, said she, are apt to fall into that sad mistake, that because their children are poor, and have little of this world's goods, the mothers must make it up to them in false indulgence. The children of the gentry are much more reproved and corrected for their faults, and bred up in far stricter discipline.

He was a king who said, _Chasten thy son, and let not thy rod spare for his crying_. But do not lose your patience; the more vicious the children are, you must remember the more they stand in need of your instruction. When they are bad, comfort yourself with thinking how much worse they would have been but for you; and what a burden they would become to society if these evil tempers were to receive no check. The great thing which enabled Mrs. Crew to teach well, was the deep insight she had got into the corruption of human nature.

And I doubt if any one can make a thoroughly good teacher of religion and morals, who wants the master-key to the heart. Others, indeed, may teach knowledge, decency, and good manners; but those, however valuable, are not Christianity. Mrs. Crew, who knew that out of the heart proceed lying, theft, and all that train of evils which begin to break out even in young children, applied her labors to correct this root of evil. But though a diligent, she was a humble teacher, well knowing that unless the grace of G.o.d blessed her labors, she should but labor in vain.

Hester Wilmot never failed to attend the school, whenever her perverse mother would give her leave, and her delight in learning was so great, that she would work early and late to gain a little time for her book. As she had a quick capacity, she learned soon to spell and read, and Mrs. Crew observing her diligence, used to lend her a book to carry home, that she might pick up a little at odd times. It would be well if teachers would make this distinction. To give, or lend books to those who take no delight in them is a useless expense; while it is kind and right to a.s.sist well-disposed young people with every help of this sort. Those who love books seldom hurt them, while the slothful who hate learning, will wear out a book more in a week, than the diligent will do in a year.

Hester's way was to read over a question in her catechism, or one verse in her hymn book, by fire-light before she went to bed; this she thought over in the night: and when she was dressing herself in the morning, she was glad to find she always knew a little more than she had done the morning before. It is not to be believed how much those people will be found to have gained at the end of the year, who are accustomed to work up all the little odd ends and remnants of leisure; who value time even more than money; and who are convinced that minutes are no more to be wasted than pence. Nay, he who finds he has wasted a shilling may by diligence hope to fetch it up again: but no repentance or industry can ever bring back one wasted hour. My good young reader, if ever _you_ are tempted to waste an hour, go and ask a dying man what he would give for that hour which you are throwing away, and according as he answers so do you act.

As her mother hated the sight of a book, Hester was forced to learn out of sight: it was no disobedience to do this, as long as she wasted no part of that time which it was her duty to spend in useful labor. She would have thought it a sin to have left her work for her book; but she did not think it wrong to steal time from her sleep, and to be learning an hour before the rest of the family were awake.

Hester would not neglect the washing-tub, or the spinning-wheel, even to get on with her catechism; but she thought it fair to think over her questions while she was washing and spinning. In a few months she was able to read fluently in St. John's Gospel, which is the easiest. But Mrs. Crew did not think it enough that her children could read a chapter, she would make them understand it also. It is in a good degree owing to the want of religious knowledge in teachers, that there is so little religion in the world. Unless the Bible is laid open to the understanding, children may read from Genesis to the Revelation, without any other improvement than barely learning how to p.r.o.nounce the words. Mrs. Crew found there was but one way to compel their attention; this was by obliging them to return back again to her the sense of what she had read to them, and this they might do in their own words, if they could not remember the words of Scripture. Those who had weak capacities, would, to be sure, do this but very imperfectly; but even the weakest, if they were willing would retain something. She so managed, that _saying the catechism_ was not merely an act of the memory, but of the understanding; for she had observed formerly that those who had learned the catechism in the common formal way, when they were children, had never understood it when they became men and women, and it remained in the memory without having made any impression on the mind. Thus this fine summary of the Christian religion is considered as little more than a form of words, the being able to repeat which, is a qualification for being confirmed by the bishop, instead of being considered as really containing those grounds of Christian faith and practice, by which they are to be confirmed Christians.

Mrs. Crew used to say to Mrs. Jones, those who teach the poor must indeed give line upon line, precept upon precept, here a little and there a little, as they can receive it. So that teaching must be a great grievance to those who do not really make it a _labor of love_. I see so much levity, obstinacy, and ignorance, that it keeps my own forbearance in continual exercise, insomuch that I trust I am getting good myself, while I am doing good to others. No one, madam, can know till they try, that after they have asked a poor untaught child the same question nineteen times, they must not lose their temper, but go on and ask it the twentieth. Now and then, when I am tempted to be impatient, I correct myself by thinking over that active proof which our blessed Saviour requires of our love to him when he says, _Feed my lambs_.

Hester Wilmot had never been bred to go to church, for her father and mother had never thought of going themselves, unless at a christening in their own family, or at a funeral of their neighbors, both of which they considered merely as opportunities for good eating and drinking, and not as offices of religion.

As poor Hester had no comfort at home, it was the less wonder she delighted in her school, her Bible, and her church; for so great is G.o.d's goodness, that he is pleased to make religion a peculiar comfort to those who have no other comfort. The G.o.d whose name she had seldom heard but when it was _taken in vain_, was now revealed to her as a G.o.d of infinite power, justice, and holiness. What she read in her Bible, and what she felt in her own heart, convinced her she was a sinner, and her catechism said the same. She was much distressed one day on thinking over this promise which she had just made (in answer to the question which fell to her lot), _To renounce the devil and all his works, the pomps and vanities of this wicked world, and all the sinful l.u.s.ts of the flesh_. I say she was distressed on finding that these were not merely certain words which she was bound to repeat, but certain conditions which she was bound to perform. She was sadly puzzled to know how this was to be done, till she met with these words in her Bible: _My grace is sufficient for thee_. But still she was at a loss to know how this grace was to be obtained. Happily Mr. Simpson preached on the next Sunday from this text, _Ask and ye shall receive_, etc. In this sermon was explained to her the nature, the duty, and the efficacy of prayer.

After this she opened her heart to Mrs. Crew, who taught her the great doctrines of Scripture, in a serious but plain way. Hester's own heart led her to a.s.sent to that humbling doctrine of the catechism, that _We are by nature born in sin_; and truly glad was she to be relieved by hearing of _That spiritual grace by which we have a new birth unto righteousness_. Thus her mind was no sooner humbled by one part than it gained comfort from another. On the other hand, while she was rejoicing in _a lively hope in G.o.d's mercy through Christ_, her mistress put her in mind that that was only the _true_ repentance _by which we forsake sin_. Thus the catechism, explained by a pious teacher, was found to contain _all the articles of the Christian faith_.

Mrs. Jones greatly disapproved the practice of turning away the scholars, because they were grown up. Young people, said she, want to be warned at sixteen more than they did at six, and they are commonly turned adrift at the very age when they want most instruction; when dangers and temptations most beset them. They are exposed to more evil by the leisure of a Sunday evening, than by the business of a whole week; but then religion must be made pleasant, and instruction must be carried on in a kind, and agreeable, and familiar way. If they once dislike the teacher, they will soon get to dislike what is taught, so that a master or mistress is in some measure answerable for the future piety of young persons, inasmuch as that piety depends on their manner of making religion pleasant as well as profitable.

To attend Mrs. Jones's evening instructions was soon thought not a task but a holiday. In a few months it was reckoned a disadvantage to the character of any young person in the parish to know that they did not attend the evening school. At first, indeed, many of them came only with a view to learn amus.e.m.e.nt; but, by the blessing of G.o.d, they grew fond of instruction, and some of them became truly pious. Mrs. Jones spoke to them on Sunday evening as follows: "My dear young women, I rejoice at your improvement; but I rejoice with trembling. I have known young people set out well, who afterward fell off. The heart is deceitful. Many like religious knowledge, who do not like the strictness of a religious life. I must therefore watch whether those who are diligent at church and school, are diligent in their daily walk. Whether those who say they _believe_ in G.o.d, really _obey_ him. Whether they who profess to _love_ Christ keep His _commandments_. Those who hear themselves commended for early piety, may learn to rest satisfied with the praise of man.

People may get a knack at religious phrases without being religious; they may even get to frequent places of worship as an amus.e.m.e.nt, in order to meet their friends, and may learn to delight in a sort of _spiritual gossip_, while religion has no power in their hearts. But I hope better things of you, and things that accompany salvation, though I thus speak."

What became of Hester Wilmot, with some account of Mrs. Jones's May-day feast for her school, my readers shall be told next month.

PART II.

THE NEW GOWN.

Hester Wilmot, I am sorry to observe, had been by nature peevish and lazy; she would, when a child, now and then slight her work, and when her mother was unreasonable she was too apt to return a saucy answer; but when she became acquainted with her own heart, and with the Scriptures, these evil tempers were, in a good measure, subdued, for she now learned to imitate, not her violent mother, but _Him who was meek and lowly_. When she was scolded for doing ill, she prayed for grace to do better; and the only answer she made to her mother's charge, "that religion only served to make people lazy," was to strive to do twice as much work, in order to prove that it really made them diligent. The only thing in which she ventured to disobey her mother was, that when she ordered her to do week-day's work on a Sunday, Hester cried, and said, she did not dare to disobey G.o.d; but to show that she did not wish to save her own labor, she would do a double portion of work on the Sat.u.r.day night, and rise two hours earlier on Monday morning.

Once, when she had worked very hard, her mother told her that she would treat her with a holiday the following Sabbath, and take her a fine walk to eat cakes and drink ale at Weston fair, which, though it was professed to be kept on the Monday, yet, to the disgrace of the village, always began on the Sunday evening.[8] Rebecca, who would on no account have wasted the Monday, which was a working day, in idleness and pleasure, thought she had a very good right to enjoy herself at the fair on the Sunday evening, as well as to take her children. Hester earnestly begged to be left at home, and her mother, in a rage, went without her. A wet walk, and more ale than she was used to drink, gave Rebecca a dangerous fever. During this illness Hester, who would not follow her to a scene of dissolute mirth, attended her night and day, and denied herself necessaries that her sick mother might have comforts; and though she secretly prayed to G.o.d that this sickness might change her mother's heart, yet she never once reproached her, or put her in mind that it was caught by indulging in a sinful pleasure.

[8] This practice is too common. Those fairs which profess to be kept on Monday, commonly begin on the Sunday. It is much to be wished that magistrates would put a stop to it, as Mr. Simpson did at Weston, at the request of Mrs. Jones. There is another great evil worth the notice of justices. In many villages, during the fair, ale is sold at private houses, which have no license, to the great injury of sobriety and good morals.

Another Sunday night her father told Hester he thought she had now been at school long enough for him to have a little good of her learning, so he desired she would stay at home and read to him.

Hester cheerfully ran and fetched her Testament. But John fell a laughing, calling her a fool, and said, it would be time enough to read the Testament to him when he was going to die, but at present he must have something merry. So saying, he gave her a songbook which he had picked up at the Bell. Hester, having cast her eyes over it, refused to read it, saying, she did not dare offend G.o.d by reading what would hurt her own soul. John called her a canting hypocrite, and said he would put the Testament into the fire, for that there was not a more merry girl than she was before she became religious. Her mother, for once, took her part; not because she thought her daughter in the right, but because she was glad of any pretense to show her husband was in the wrong; though she herself would have abused Hester for the same thing if John had taken her part. John, with a shocking oath, abused them both, and went off in a violent pa.s.sion. Hester, instead of saying one undutiful word against her father, took up a Psalter in order to teach her little sisters; but Rebecca was so provoked at her for not joining her in her abuse of her husband, that she changed her humor, said John was in the right, and Hester a perverse hypocrite, who only made religion a pretense for being undutiful to her parents. Hester bore all in silence, and committed her cause to Him _who judgeth righteously_. It would have been a great comfort to her if she had dared to go to Mrs. Crew, and to have joined in the religious exercises of the evening at school. But her mother refused to let her, saying it would only harden her heart in mischief. Hester said not a word, but after having put the little ones to bed, and heard them say their prayers out of sight, she went and sat down in her own little loft, and said to herself, "It would be pleasant to me to have taught my little sisters to read; I thought it was my duty, for David has said, _Come ye children, hearken unto me, and I will teach you the fear of the Lord_. It would have been still more pleasant to have pa.s.sed the evening at school, because I am still ignorant, and fitter to learn than to teach; but I can not do either without flying in the face of my mother; G.o.d sees fit to-night to change my pleasant duties into a painful trial. I give up my will, and I submit to the will of my father; but when he orders me to commit a known sin, then I dare not do it, because, in so doing, I must disobey my Father which is in heaven."

Now, it so fell out, that this dispute happened on the very Sunday next before Mrs. Jones's yearly feast. On May-day all the school attended her to church, each in a stuff gown of their own earning, and a cap and white ap.r.o.n of her giving. After church there was an examination made into the learning and behavior of the scholars; those who were most perfect in their chapters, and who brought the best character for industry, humility, and sobriety, received a Bible or some other good book.

Now Hester had been a whole year h.o.a.rding up her little savings, in order to be ready with a new gown on the May-day feast. She had never got less than two shillings a week by her spinning, beside working for the family, and earning a trifle by odd jobs. This money she faithfully carried to her mother every Sat.u.r.day night, keeping back by consent only twopence a week toward the gown. The sum was complete, the pattern had long been settled, and Hester had only on the Monday morning to go to the shop, pay her money, and bring home her gown to be made. Her mother happened to go out early that morning to iron in a gentleman's family, where she usually staid a day or two, and Hester was busy putting the house in order before she went to the shop.

On that very Monday there was to be a meeting at the Bell of all the idle fellows in the parish. John Wilmot, of course, was to be there.

Indeed he had accepted a challenge of the blacksmith to match at all-fours. The blacksmith was flush of money, John thought himself the best player; and, that he might make sure of winning, he resolved to keep himself sober, which he knew was more than the other would do. John was so used to go upon tick for ale, that he got to the door of the Bell before he recollected that he could not keep his word with the gambler without money, and he had not a penny in his pocket, so he sullenly turned homeward. He dared not apply to his wife, as he knew he should be more likely to get a scratched face than a sixpence from her; but he knew that Hester had received two shillings for her last week's spinning on Sat.u.r.day, and, perhaps, she might not yet have given it to her mother. Of the h.o.a.rded sum he knew nothing. He asked her if she could lend him half a crown, and he would pay her next day. Hester, pleased to see him in a good humor after what had pa.s.sed the night before, ran up and fetched down her little box, and, in the joy of her heart that he now desired something she _could_ comply with without wounding her conscience, cheerfully poured out her whole little stock on the table. John was in raptures at the sight of three half crowns and a sixpence, and eagerly seized it, box and all, together with a few h.o.a.rded halfpence at the bottom, though he had only asked to borrow half a crown. None but one whose heart was hardened by a long course of drunkenness could have taken away the whole, and for such a purpose. He told her she should certainly have it again next morning, and, indeed, intended to pay it, not doubting but he should double the sum. But John overrated his own skill, or luck, for he lost every farthing to the blacksmith, and sneaked home before midnight, and quietly walked up to bed. He was quite sober, which Hester thought a good sign. Next morning she asked him, in a very humble way, for the money, which she said she would not have done, but that if the gown was not bought directly it would not be ready in time for the feast. John's conscience had troubled him a little for what he had done--for when he was not drunk he was not ill-natured--and he stammered out a broken excuse, but owned he had lost the money, and had not a farthing left. The moment Hester saw him mild and kind her heart was softened, and she begged him not to vex, adding, that she would be contented never to have a new gown as long as she lived, if she could have the comfort of always seeing him come home sober as he was last night. For Hester did not know that he had refrained from getting drunk, only that he might gamble with a better chance of success, and that when a gamester keeps himself sober, it is not that he may practice a virtue, but that he may commit a worse crime.

"I am indeed sorry for what I have done," said he; "you can not go to the feast, and what will Madam Jones say?" "Yes, but I can," said Hester; "for G.o.d looks not at the gown, but at the heart, and I am sure he sees mine full of grat.i.tude at hearing you talk so kindly; and if I thought my dear father would change his present evil courses, I should be the happiest girl at the feast to-morrow." John walked away mournfully, and said to himself, "Surely there must be something in religion, since it can thus change the heart. Hester was once a pert girl, and now she is as mild as a lamb. She was once an indolent girl, and now she is up with the lark. She was a vain girl, and would do any thing for a new ribbon; and now she is contented to go in rags to a feast at which every one else is to have a new gown. She deprived herself of the gown to give me the money; and yet this very girl, so dutiful in some respects, would submit to be turned out of doors rather than read a loose book at my command, or break the Sabbath. I do not understand this; there must be some mystery in it." All this he said as he was going to work. In the evening he did not go to the Bell; whether it was owing to his new thoughts, or to his not having a penny in his pocket, I will not take upon me positively to say; but I believe it was a little of one and a little of the other.

As the pattern of the intended gown had long been settled in the family, and as Hester had the money by her, it was looked on as good as bought, so that she was trusted to get it brought home and made in her mother's absence. Indeed, so little did Rebecca care about the school, that she would not have cared any thing about the gown, if her vanity had not made her wish that her daughter should be the best dressed of any girl at the feast. Being from home, as was said before, she knew nothing of the disappointment. On May-day morning, Hester, instead of keeping from the feast because she had not a new gown, or meanly inventing any excuse for wearing an old one, dressed herself out as neatly as she could in her poor old things, and went to join the school in order to go to church. Whether Hester had formerly indulged a little pride of heart, and talked of this gown rather too much, I am not quite sure; certain it is, there was a great hue and cry made at seeing Hester Wilmot, the neatest girl, the most industrious girl in the school, come to the May-day feast in an old stuff gown, when every other girl was so creditably dressed. Indeed, I am sorry to say, there were two or three much too smart for their station, and who had dizened themselves out in very improper finery, which Mrs. Jones made them take off before her. "I mean this feast," said she, "as a reward of industry and piety, and not as a trial of skill who can be finest and outvie the rest in show. If I do not take care, my feast will become an encouragement, not to virtue, but to vanity. I am so great a friend to decency of apparel, that I even like to see you deny your appet.i.tes that you may be able to come decently dressed to the house of G.o.d. To encourage you to do this, I like to set apart this one day of innocent pleasure, against which you may be preparing all the year, by laying aside something every week toward buying a gown out of all your savings. But, let me tell you, that meekness and an humble spirit is of more value in the sight of G.o.d and good men, than the gayest cotton gown, or the brightest pink ribbon in the parish."

Mrs. Jones for all this, was as much surprised as the rest at Hester's mean garb; but such is the power of a good character, that she gave her credit for a right intention, especially as she knew the unhappy state of her family. For it was Mrs. Jones's way, (and it is not a bad way,) always to wait, and inquire into the truth before she condemned any person of good character, though appearances were against them. As we can not judge of people's motives, said she, we may, from ignorance, often condemn their best actions, and approve of their worst. It will be always time enough to judge unfavorably, and let us give others credit as long as we can, and then we in our turn, may expect a favorable judgment from others, and remember who has said, _Judge not, that ye be not judged_.

Hester was no more proud of what she had done for her father, than she was humbled by the meanness of her garb: and notwithstanding Betty Stiles, one of the girls whose finery had been taken away, sneered at her, Hester never offered to clear herself, by exposing her father, though she thought it right, secretly to inform Mrs.

Jones of what had pa.s.sed. When the examination of the girls began, Betty Stiles was asked some questions on the fourth and fifth commandments, which she answered very well. Hester was asked nearly the same questions, and though she answered them no better than Betty had done, they were all surprised to see Mrs. Jones rise up, and give a handsome Bible to Hester, while she gave nothing to Betty. This girl cried out rather pertly, "Madam, it is very hard that I have no book: I was as perfect as Hester." "I have often told you," said Mrs. Jones, "that religion is not a thing of the tongue but of the heart. That girl gives me the best proof that she has learned the fourth commandment to good purpose, who persists in keeping holy the Sabbath day, though commanded to break it, by a parent whom she loves. And that girl best proves that she keeps the fifth, who gives up her own comfort, and clothing, and credit, to _honor and obey her father and mother_, even though they are not such as she could wish. Betty Stiles, though she could answer the questions so readily, went abroad last Sunday when she should have been at school, and refused to nurse her sick mother, when she could not help herself. Is this having learned those two commandments to any good purpose?"

Farmer Hoskins, who stood by, whispered Mrs. Jones, "Well, madam, now you have convinced even me of the benefit of a religious instruction; now I see there is a meaning to it. I thought it was in at one ear and out at the other, and that a song was as well as a psalm, but now I have found the proof of the pudding is in the eating. I see your scholars must _do_ what they _hear_, and _obey_ what they _learn_. Why at this rate, they will all be better servants for being really G.o.dly, and so I will add a pudding to next year's feast."

The pleasure Hester felt in receiving a new Bible, made her forget that she had on an old gown. She walked to church in a thankful frame: but how great was her joy, when she saw, among a number of working men, her own father going into church. As she pa.s.sed by him she cast on him a look of so much joy and affection that it brought tears into his eyes, especially when he compared her mean dress with that of the other girls, and thought who had been the cause of it.

John, who had not been at church for some years, was deeply struck with the service. The confession with which it opens went to his heart. He felt, for the first time, that he was a _miserable sinner, and that there was no health in him_. He now felt compunction for sin in general, though it was only his ill-behavior to his daughter which had brought him to church. The sermon was such as to strengthen the impression which the prayers had made; and when it was over, instead of joining the ringers (for the belfry was the only part of the church John liked, because it usually led to the ale-house), he quietly walked back to his work. It was, indeed, the best day's work he ever made. He could not get out of his head the whole day, the first words he heard at church: _When the wicked man turneth away from his wickedness, and doeth that which is lawful and right, he shall save his soul alive._ At night, instead of going to the Bell, he went home, intending to ask Hester to forgive him; but as soon as he got to the door, he heard Rebecca scolding his daughter for having brought such a disgrace on the family as to be seen in that old rag of a gown, and insisted on knowing what she had done with her money. Hester tried to keep the secret, but her mother declared she would turn her out of doors if she did not tell the truth. Hester was at last forced to confess she had given it to her father. Unfortunately for poor John, it was at this very moment that he opened the door. The mother now divided her fury between her guilty husband and her innocent child, till from words she fell to blows. John defended his daughter and received some of the strokes intended for the poor girl. This turbulent scene partly put John's good resolution to flight, though the patience of Hester did him almost as much good as the sermon he had heard. At length the poor girl escaped up stairs, not a little bruised, and a scene of much violence pa.s.sed between John and Rebecca. She declared she would not sit down to supper with such a brute, and set off to a neighbor's house, that she might have the pleasure of abusing him the longer.

John, whose mind was much disturbed, went up stairs without his supper. As he was pa.s.sing by Hester's little room he heard her voice, and as he concluded she was venting bitter complaints against her unnatural parents, he stopped to listen, resolved to go in and comfort her. He stopped at the door, for, by the light of the moon, he saw her kneeling by her bedside, and praying so earnestly that she did not hear him. As he made sure she could be praying for nothing but his death, what was his surprise to hear these words: "O Lord have mercy upon my dear father and mother, teach me to love them, to pray for them, and do them good; make me more dutiful and more patient, that, adorning the doctrine of G.o.d, my Saviour, I may recommend his holy religion, and my dear parents may be brought to love and fear thee, through Jesus Christ."

Poor John, who would never have been hard-hearted if he had not been a drunkard, could not stand this; he fell down on his knees, embraced his child, and begged her to teach him how to pray. He prayed himself as well as he could, and though he did not know what words to use, yet his heart was melted; he owned he was a sinner, and begged Hester to fetch the prayer-book, and read over the confession with which he had been so struck at church. This was the pleasantest order she had ever obeyed. Seeing him deeply affected with a sense of sin, she pointed out to him the Saviour of sinners; and in this manner she pa.s.sed some hours with her father, which were the happiest of her life; such a night was worth a hundred cotton or even silk gowns. In the course of the week Hester read over the confession, and some other prayers to her father so often that he got them by heart, and repeated them while he was at work. She next taught him the fifty-first psalm. At length he took courage to kneel down and pray before he went to bed. From that time he bore his wife's ill-humor much better than he had ever done, and, as he knew her to be neat, and notable, and saving, he began to think, that if her temper was not quite so bad, his home might still become as pleasant a place to him as ever the Bell had been; but unless she became more tractable he did not know what to do with his long evenings after the little ones were in bed, for he began, once more, to delight in playing with them. Hester proposed that she herself should teach him to read an hour every night, and he consented.

Rebecca began to storm, from the mere trick she had got of storming; but finding that he now brought home all his earnings, and that she got both his money and his company (for she had once loved him), she began to reconcile herself to this new way of life. In a few months John could read a psalm. In learning to read it he also got it by heart, and this proved a little store for private devotion, and while he was mowing or reaping, he could call to mind a text to cheer his labor. He now went constantly to church, and often dropped in at the school on a Sunday evening to hear their prayers. He expressed so much pleasure at this, that one day Hester ventured to ask him if they should set up family prayer at home? John said he should like it mightily, but as he could not yet read quite well enough, he desired Hester to try to get a proper book and begin next Sunday night. Hester had bought of a pious hawker, for three half pence,[9] the Book of Prayers, printed for the Cheap Repository, and knew she should there find something suitable.

[9] These prayers may be had also divided into two parts, one fit for private persons, the other for families, price one half-penny.

When Hester read the exhortation at the beginning of this little book, her mother who sat in the corner, and pretended to be asleep, was so much struck that she could not find a word to say against it.

For a few nights, indeed, she continued to sit still, or pretended to rock the young child while her husband and daughter were kneeling at their prayers. She expected John would have scolded her for this, and so perverse was her temper, that she was disappointed at his finding no fault with her. Seeing at last that he was very patient, and that though he prayed fervently himself he suffered her to do as she liked, she lost the spirit of opposition for want of something to provoke it. As her pride began to be subdued, some little disposition to piety was awakened in her heart. By degrees she slid down on her knees, though at first it was behind the cradle, or the clock, or in some corner where she thought they would not see her.

Hester rejoiced even in this outward change in her mother, and prayed that G.o.d would at last be pleased to touch her heart as he had done that of her father.

As John now spent no idle money, he had saved up a trifle by working over-hours; this he kindly offered to Hester to make up for the loss of her gown. Instead of accepting it, Hester told him, that as she herself was young and healthy, she could soon be able to clothe herself out of her own savings, and begged him to make her mother a present of this gown, which he did. It had been a maxim of Rebecca, that it was better not to go to church at all, than go in an old gown. She had, however, so far conquered this evil notion, that she had lately gone pretty often. This kindness of the gown touched her not a little, and the first Sunday she put it on, Mr. Simpson happened to preach from this text, _G.o.d resisteth the proud but giveth grace to the humble_. This sermon so affected Rebecca that she never once thought she had her new gown on, till she came to take it off when she went to bed, and that very night instead of skulking behind, she knelt down by her husband, and joined in prayer with much fervor.

There, was one thing sunk deep in Rebecca's mind; she had observed that since her husband had grown religious he had been so careful not to give her any offense, that he was become scrupulously clean; took off his dirty shoes before he sat down, and was very cautious not to spill a drop of beer on her shining table. Now it was rather remarkable, that as John grew more neat, Rebecca grew more indifferent to neatness. But both these changes arose from the same cause, the growth of religion in their hearts. John grew cleanly from the fear of giving pain to his wife, while Rebecca grew indifferent from having discovered the sin and folly of an over-anxious care about trifles. When the heart is once given up to G.o.d, such vanities in a good degree die of themselves.

Hester continues to grow in grace, and in knowledge. Last Christmas-day she was appointed under teacher in the school, and many people think that some years hence, if any thing should happen to Mrs. Crew, Hester may be promoted to be head mistress.

BETTY BROWN,

THE ST. GILES'S ORANGE GIRL;

WITH SOME ACCOUNT OF MRS. SPONGE, THE MONEY-LENDER.

Betty Brown, the orange girl, was born n.o.body knows where, and bred n.o.body knows how. No girl in all the streets of London could drive a barrow more nimbly, avoid pushing against pa.s.sengers more dexterously, or cry her "fine China oranges" in a shriller voice.

But then she could neither sew, nor spin, nor knit, nor wash, nor iron, nor read, nor spell. Betty had not been always in so good a situation as that in which we now describe her. She came into the world before so many good gentlemen and ladies began to concern themselves so kindly, that the poor girl might have a little learning. There was no charitable society then as there is now, to pick up poor friendless children in the streets,[10] and put them into a good house, and give them meat, and drink, and lodging, and learning, and teach them to get their bread in an honest way, into the bargain. Whereas, this now is often the case in London; blessed be G.o.d, _who has ordered the bounds of our habitation_, and cast our lot in such a country!

[10] The Philanthropic.

The longest thing that Betty can remember is, that she used to crawl up out of a night cellar, stroll about the streets, and pick cinders from the scavengers' carts. Among the ashes she sometimes found some ragged gauze and dirty ribands; with these she used to dizen herself out, and join the merry bands on the first of May. This was not, however, quite fair, as she did not lawfully belong either to the female dancers, who foot it gayly round the garland, or to the sooty tribe, who, on this happy holiday, forget their year's toil in Portman square, cheered by the tender bounty of her whose wit has long enlivened the most learned, and whose tastes and talents long adorned the most polished societies. Betty, however, often got a few sc.r.a.ps, by appearing to belong to both parties. But as she grew bigger and was not an idle girl, she always put herself in the way of doing something. She would run of errands for the footmen, or sweep the door for the maid of any house where she was known; she would run and fetch some porter, and never was once known either to sip a drop by the way, or steal the pot. Her quickness and fidelity in doing little jobs, got her into favor with a lazy cook-maid, who was too apt to give away her master's cold meat and beer, not to those who were most in want, but to those who waited upon her, and did the little things for her which she ought to have done herself.

The cook, who found Betty a dexterous girl, soon employed her to sell ends of candles, pieces of meat and cheese, the lumps of b.u.t.ter, or any thing else she could crib from the house. These were all carried to her friend, Mrs. Sponge, who kept a little shop, and a kind of eating-house for poor working people, not far from the Seven Dials. She also bought as well as sold, many kinds of second-hand things, and was not scrupulous to know whether what she bought was honestly come by, provided she could get it for a sixth part of what it was worth. But if the owner presumed to ask for its real value, then she had sudden qualms of conscience, instantly suspected the things were stolen, and gave herself airs of honesty, which often took in poor silly people, and gave her a sort of half reputation among the needy and ignorant, whose friend she hypocritically pretended to be.

To this artful woman Betty carried the cook's pilferings; and as Mrs. Sponge would give no great price for these in money, the cook was willing to receive payment for her eatables in Mrs. Sponge's drinkables; for she dealt in all kinds of spirits. I shall only just remark here, that one receiver, like Mrs. Sponge, makes many pilferers, who are tempted to commit these petty thieveries, by knowing how easy it is to dispose of them at such iniquitous houses.

Betty was faithful to both her employers, which is extraordinary, considering the greatness of the temptation and her utter ignorance of good and evil. One day she ventured to ask Mrs. Sponge, if she could not a.s.sist her to get into a more settled way of life. She told her that when she rose in the morning she never knew where she should lie at night, nor was she ever sure of a meal beforehand.

Mrs. Sponge asked her what she thought herself fit for. Betty, with fear and trembling, said there was one trade for which she thought herself qualified, but she had not the ambition to look so high--it was far above her humble views--that was, to have a barrow, and sell fruit, as several other of Mrs. Sponge's customers did, whom she had often looked up to with envy, little expecting herself ever to attain so independent a station.