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Title: Interesting Incidents Connected With the Life of George Bickers

Author: George Bickers

Release date: May 8, 2020 [eBook #62060]

Language: English



*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INTERESTING INCIDENTS CONNECTED WITH THE LIFE OF GEORGE BICKERS ***


Transcribed from the 1882 G. S. Cook edition by David Price, email
ccx074@pgaf.org

                          [Picture: Book cover]

                         _Spes tutissima Cælis_.

                                * * * * *





                          Interesting Incidents
                       _Connected with the Life of_
                             GEORGE BICKERS,


               _Originally a Farmer’s Parish Apprentice at_
                   _Laxfield_, _in Suffolk_, _but now_

                           RESIDING IN OULTON,

                          _In the same County_,
                                _Being an_
                              AUTOBIOGRAPHY
                             _Of the above_,
                            From 1809 to 1881,
                               _Inclusive_.

                                * * * * *

                  _All Rights of Re-production reserved_

                                * * * * *

                                Lowestoft:
                    G. S. Cook, Nelson Printing Works.

                 [Picture: Photograph of George Bickers]

THE writer of these pages was born at Laxfield, a village in the County
of Suffolk, on the 16th day of January, 1809, the forty-eighth year of
our good King George the Third’s happy reign.  That eventful day was to
me the commencement of a long and sometimes tedious journey: oftimes I
have had to encounter great perils and dangers, but out of all the Lord
hath delivered me.

That eventful day witnessed the closing career of a great British
General, Sir John Moore, at Corunna, a seaport of Spain, whither he had
gone to take the command of the English forces, in order, if possible, to
relieve that unhappy country, then being sorely harassed by the armies of
Napoleon I., under the command of the Duke of Dalmatia (Marshall Soult),
but the campaign proved a failure, resulting in the death of the
Commander-in-Chief, and the re-embarkation of the troops, with a loss of
about eight hundred of our countrymen, Soult being more than a match for
the valour of British arms on that memorable and trying occasion.  But
France was destined to be humbled, and six years later on, Napoleon and
his generals felt the weight of British prowess at Waterloo.

I was the second son of my parents, Benjamin and Charlotte, poor, but
industrious people, my father being an agricultural labourer: and, having
but a slender income, yet felt a wish their children should acquire a
little education, which might prove useful to them in their future
stations in life under which they might be called.

When about four years of age, while one day playing in the road with
other children, near my father’s cottage, there happened to be a horse,
belonging to a miller of the name of Heffer, quietly feeding.  Being then
(as since) very forward in mischief, I threw my cap at the quiet
creature, and then must needs go too near its heels to pick it up; the
sad consequence was I was kicked on the head, and my right eye nearly
perished, but, under the skilful treatment of Mr. Alling, a surgeon in
the village, my eyesight was preserved, and, although I am writing more
than sixty years later on, yet the scar still remains, and also the seam
in the bone is still perceptible.  But what of the poor horse?  He came
to grief very soon after, as one day being loose in the stable, and the
master, going in to take him some food, omitted to shut the door, the
horse ran out, and, before the man could recover him, he was struck by
one of the sails of the windmill, and was killed thereby.  This accident
reminded the owner of that dangerous machine that it would be much better
to raise it higher, which was soon after accomplished.  And, perhaps, I
may be permitted to observe that, by the kind care of a watchful and
loving Jehovah, my life was preserved; and, in looking back, can praise
the Lord for His goodness, and for the care extended unto me at this, the
beginning of my journey of a long life.

The time had now arrived when school must be attended, and my first
schoolmaster was Mr. Benjamin Chenery, at that time clerk and sexton of
the parish, and was no ways sparing of the heads and backs of his pupils,
but we hope, on the whole, he followed a rightful course, for he had in
his vocation many grave and solemn duties to perform, both as to the
interment of the aged, as also the education and training of the young.

Under the care and tuition of Benjamin, I first learned to read, to write
upon a slate, and do little sums, after having mastered the figures.
Easy spelling also came on, as a matter of course; and there was no lack
of errands to perform, as well for the mistress as the master, and I
occasionally assisted in sweeping up the church, the chancel being
occupied as a schoolroom during the summer season, when fire was not
needed, as the master was not usually at a loss to supply a warming.

The churchyard, too spacious as it was, proved a most excellent
playground; there were plain spaces for marbles and tops, piers and
buttresses for hide-and-seek; graves, and stones, and tombs, to jump over
and jump from, without any restriction, and readily did we unite in these
healthful exercises, however dangerous or mischievous they might be in
other respects.

There was another school near, kept by Mr. John Goodwin; the pupils were
more advanced, some being farmers’ sons.  That being a free school, yet
the master was allowed to take private pupils.  Females, also, were
instructed, having a room to themselves opposite the master’s desk,
called the “Ladies’ Room.”  The boys at those schools were not allowed to
play together, the smaller ones possessing the protection of the sacred
enclosure, which was at the larger ones’ peril to invade.  We could see
them at their play, as we looked through the openings of the gate; and
there was sometimes displayed a germ of hostility among the youthful
students.

In attending this school I was taught to read, and also easy spelling, as
before observed; then came little sums in addition, subtraction, and
multiplication.  I soon became able to read in class; we daily read the
Psalms from the book of Common Prayer.  We did not have bible reading at
this school, as many families at that time did not possess the sacred
volume, my parents being among that number; but our immediate neighbours
were in possession of a bible, and were always willing to lend it to my
parents of an evening, and the owners, being aged people, would often
invite me to stand and read to them from their bible, of Adam and Eve, of
Noah, of Abraham, and Lot, of Isaac and Jacob, and also that remarkable
narrative of Joseph and his brethren.  These exercises were to me helps
in the right direction.  My master found I was getting on, and set me to
read to him pieces from history, principally from Goldsmith’s “Vicar of
Wakefield.”  The closing paragraph of the 7th chapter I will here insert,
because, although more than sixty years have rolled away, yet I well
remember the concluding sentences.  Here is a sample:—

    “My wife now kept up the conversation, though not the argument.  She
    observed that several prudent men of our acquaintance were
    freethinkers, and made very good husbands.  And she knew some
    sensible girls that had skill enough to make converts of their
    spouses.  ‘And who knows, my dear,’ continued she, ‘what Olivia may
    be able to do?  The girl has a great deal to say upon every subject,
    and to my knowledge is very skilled in controversy.’  ‘Why, my dear,
    what controversy can she have read?’ cried I.  ‘It does not occur to
    me that I have ever put such books into her hands; you certainly
    overrate her merit.’  ‘Indeed, papa,’ replied Olivia, ‘she does not.
    I have read a great deal of controversy.  I have the disputes between
    Thwackum and Square, the controversy between Robinson Crusoe and
    Friday, the savage, and I am now employed in reading the controversy
    in ‘Religious Courtship.’’  ‘Very well,’ I cried I, ‘that’s a good
    girl; I find you are perfectly qualified for making converts, and so
    go help your mother to make the gooseberry-pie.’”

And the master added, “you shall have a piece _on’t_, mister, when it be
enough.”  I had wondered a hundred times in what book the above passage
could be found.  At length the discovery was made, and now the concluding
portion of the 17th chapter, together with the verses—six of them—have
passed through my mind, in the absence of something better, a great many
times:—

    “‘It was within about four days of her (Olivia’s) intended nuptials
    that my little family, at night, were gathered around a charming
    fire, telling stories of the past, and laying schemes for the future,
    busied in forming a thousand projects, and laughing at whatever folly
    came uppermost.’  ‘Well, Moses, my boy, we shall soon have a wedding
    in our family; what is your opinion of matters and things in
    general?’  ‘My opinion is, father, that all things go on very well,
    and I was just now thinking that when sister Livy is married to
    Farmer Williams, we shall then have the loan of his cider-press and
    brewing tubs for nothing.’  ‘That we shall, Moses,’ cried I, ‘and he
    will sing us ‘_Death_ and the _Lady_’ to raise our spirits into the
    bargain.’  ‘He has taught that song to our Dick,’ cried Moses, ‘and I
    think he goes through it very prettily.’  ‘Does he so?’ cried I,
    ‘then let’s have it.  Where is little Dick?  Let him up with it
    boldly.’  ‘My brother Dick,’ cried Bill, my youngest, ‘is just gone
    out with sister Livy, but Mr. Williams has taught me two songs, and
    I’ll sing them for you, papa.  Which song do you choose, ‘The Dying
    Swan,’ or ‘The Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog?’  ‘The elegy, child,
    by all means,’ said I.  ‘I never heard that yet, and Deborah, my
    life, grief you know is dry; let us have a bottle of the best
    gooseberry wine to keep up our spirits.  I have wept so much at all
    sorts of late that, without an enlivening glass, I am sure this would
    overcome me, and Sophy, love, take your guitar, and thrum in with the
    boy a little.”

This is then the sample of the taste of a master store the mind of a
young scholar; but we must have the “Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog:”

                               THE ELEGY, ETC.

    Good people all, of every sort, give ear unto my song,
    And if you find it won’drous short, it cannot hold you long.
    In Islington there was a man, of whom the world might say
    That still a godly race he ran whene’er he went to pray.

    A kind and gentle heart he had, to comfort friend and foe,
    The naked every day he clad, when he put on his clothes;
    And in that town a dog was found, as dogs there many be,
    Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, and curs of low degree.

    This dog and man at first were friends, but when a pique began,
    The dog, to gain some private ends, went mad and bit the man;
    Around, from all the neighbo’ring streets, the wond’ring neighbours
    ran,
    And swore the dog had lost his wits to bite so good a man.

    The wound it seemed both sore and sad to every Christian eye,
    And while they said the dog was mad, they said the man would die;
    But soon a wonder came to light, that showed the rogues they lied,
    The man recovered of the bite—the dog it was that died.

The master did not attempt to enlighten me.  At the close of the elegy,
he merely observed as approval, “Oh, the dog died, did he, mister?”  But
no doubt Oliver Goldsmith could see something underlying its surface, as
there were then political dogs in Islington, whose virulent bites were
very painful; surely also, are there to be found elsewhere in our day.

My neighbours were farmers on a small scale: they had a son to whom I was
much attached.  They kept several cows, and a horse named Depper.  She
was a useful creature, having carried me many miles.  I could spend many
half-days with Depper, instead of being at school, and I believe those in
charge liked my company, so that the time passed away.  I had often
little jobs to perform for the old people which sometimes brought me a
meal of good food; at other times a good farmer’s cake, which was always
a luxury; and I had charge of the cows when they were fed in the lanes
and roads.  This brought a few pence to my parents, so much needed in
those days of low wages—about eight or nine shillings per week when
labourers made full time.

It would have been a curious sight in our day, as then, to see the old
couple mounted upon Depper’s back, when they were going out to see
friends.  A light cart was a scarce article in those days with small
occupiers (my neighbours had only a tumbril as a carriage); an appliance
called a pillion was fastened upon the rump of the horse, and secured to
the saddle, the greatest difficulty being to mount and dismount; but that
difficulty was overcome.

I have not yet done with my old friend Benjamin; perhaps he did not
trouble about my being absent for a week or two, if I did not return a
bigger dunce.  He usually had some of that class to try his patience.  He
appointed me many jobs, more to my mind than studying in the school.  The
town clock required to be wound up, the dial of which was at an elevation
of about fifty feet, adorning the south side of the old tower, with its
four neat pinnacles.  I was appointed often to wind up the weights of
that clock: the larger weight requiring the power of two boys, with a
crank as large as a grindstone.  Then, again, at funerals, the master
would set me to toll the church bell, the rope being so fixed upon its
tongue that an easy jerk would cause it to strike against the bell’s
side, instructions being given that when the procession arrived, and at a
signal from the master, ten strokes were to be given in quick succession,
and then immediately to cease.  Then, again, after the funeral service
was over, the grave had to be filled in by willing hands, which was after
a time accomplished, the implements being afterwards stowed away, and
thus ended the school service of another day.

Four schoolboys were usually selected to convey the funeral bier to the
late residence of the deceased, sometimes half-a-mile or more distant.
Regardless of the solemnity of the occasion, we enjoyed the outing, and
were not in a very great hurry to return to our studies; and perhaps the
master did not trouble that we should, for I do not remember to have
heard him express much sorrow or inconvenience respecting the absentees.

I continued to attend Benjamin’s school until I was about ten years of
age; at that time my parents thought they would like me to attend the
larger school, that my education might be forwarded thereby.  I learnt
the inscription on the fly-leaf of master’s book, which I had often read
through.  I could not remember the title.  The lines were these:

    Whose book I am, if you wish to know,
    By letters two I will you show;
    The first is B, to all men’s sight,
    The next is C, to spell it right;
    But if you chance to spell amiss,
    Look underneath, and here it is:

                                                         BENJAMIN CHENERY.

Farewell! to my first schoolmaster, and gooseberry-pie book.

It was not very long before a vacancy occurred in the larger school, and
I was elected to fill up the gap.  I felt somewhat timid, but that soon
wore off.  I was placed at a desk with others, and had soon to go in for
sums in earnest.  All had to be worked out on a slate, and, when passed
as correct, had to be set down in a book.  This was our morning work;
afternoon we had Bible-reading in class, spelling, and afterwards writing
with ink in copy book.  There was a very patient usher of the name of
George Bilney; but he was not there long after I joined the school.  The
discipline here was more stringent; each free scholar had to wear a badge
of distinction, a school cap, to be worn every Sunday, and to be present
at church, two seats being set apart for the boys of this school, under
the supervision of the master and his usher; and all absentees had to
give a satisfactory account on Monday mornings of the why’s and the
wherefore’s, or feel the weight of the cane in the master’s hand, however
distasteful it might be.

At this school I made progress; we were allowed to use “Walkingame’s
Tutor’s Assistant;” a great deal could be learnt from this useful work.
Said tables on Fridays, and also Church Catechism, with hard and
difficult spelling at the close thereof, and the first three boys were
rewarded with a ticket each.  Often heavy tasks were awarded for
disobedience, and, altogether, the general routine was one of forced
vigilance, obedience, and activity, as no trifling was permitted during
school hours.

After a few months my being in this school, Mr. Bilney, the usher left,
and his place was subsequently filled by Mr. Benjamin Moulton, who
afterwards followed the occupation of an auctioneer and valuer, at
Woodbridge, in this county.  I wrote to that gentleman in 1878, enquiring
if he was the same B. M. whom I had previously known at Mr. Goodwin’s
school.  He returned an answer, thanking me for the enquiry, that he was
the same; that he was now about seventy years of age; that his health was
fair; and that there was at least one of the old scholars who had thought
about him; but said, also, he never much liked the situation, so he did
not much regret leaving the village and its associations.

I attended at this school about one year and a half.  There were a better
class of pupils (farmer’s sons) on the Opposition benches, who were
instructed in the higher rudiments, such as land surveying, mapping,
printing, English grammar.  “English Reader,” “Introduction,” and
“Speaker” were books not prohibited to the free boys, and, for one, I was
very fond of reading them at every opportunity, for we had the range of
the school from twelve o’clock till two, when all could play outside in
fine weather very comfortably together, regardless of station in life, as
two in the same school were my future young masters.

I continued to improve in the acquisition of knowledge, as there taught,
from Multiplication of Integers to Money, and so on, as in subsequent
rules; Division short and long, Reduction, Practice, and “Rule of Three,”
all requiring close attention to bring a “Good” mark, implying the
approval of the master or usher before any sum was allowed to be entered
in the book, and even that was a tedious operation.  There must be no
mistakes, no blots, nor any smearing on the surface; when the master came
round, the cane accompanied him, and sad woes were inflicted on the
careless, which were not soon forgotten.

But it came to be desired that I should begin to work more closely, and
earn my support, for most likely it was thought that a little help in
that direction was, no doubt, very needful, and being a final decision, I
left the school in that eventful year, 1820, and forthwith I soon found
my destiny was “buckle to work.”  I have said “eventful” year, in proof
whereof here is an extract from the _Evangelical Magazine_ of that
year:—“George III. died at Windsor Castle, on the 29th January, 1820 in
his 82nd year.  His son, the Duke of Kent, expired a few days previous,
at Sidmouth, in Devonshire, in the 53rd year of his age, leaving an
infant daughter—our good and virtuous Queen.”  Long may she reign.

The way is now apparently open for the Prince Regent to occupy the
throne, but the perplexing domestic troubles occupied the lawyers and
barristers more than twelve months ere the ground could be anything like
cleared; but the road in which I was destined to travel was not so
mystified.  A master was found for me, in the person of Mr. Simon Smyth,
of Ubbeston, farmer.  I was employed in hoeing, weeding corn, picking
grass, and such-like jobs.  I was there ten weeks, or about half that
summer, and more happy was I than the Prince Regent.  My next master was
Mr. Robert Scace, of Laxfield, farmer, and was employed, first keeping
sheep, then working in the hay field, and other odd jobs which might
present themselves to my notice.  I got on nicely with Mr. Scace, and
after the hay season was told that I might continue on, and board in the
house during the harvest, and have the same amount of money weekly.  I
was glad to hear that, and never found it a source of regret to anyone.
Those were cheerful seasons to both men and boys, and for my own part I
felt that I was advanced to a post of honour when entrusted with the
commands of a horse or two, and was no longer compelled to go about the
fields gleaning, which occupation I so much disliked.  There was but one
son in this family, but he had to work in harvest-time, and bend down
with the sickle, as with that instrument the wheat-crop was reaped in
those days, and it was my lot to assist Master Robert, when he sought a
little rest.  He was a little older than myself, being born in 1806.  He
lived near my parents’ dwelling, and I was often allowed to play with him
before we began to work.  His was but a short course.  I have since read
in Laxfield Churchyard, near the porch, upon a stone, this inscription:

                            ROBERT BULLOCK SCACE,
                          Born September 17th, 1806;
                            Died March 30th, 1853.

How quickly the four dozen years passed away!

The joyful harvest being completed, it was arranged that I should be
further detained to keep pigs and other stock in the fields from off
which the corn had been taken.  This employment I was engaged in for
several weeks, being always supplied with a good dinner on each Sunday,
sent to the field from the farmer’s table, which was very much enjoyed
and welcomed, these and such-like comforts which came to me on the Day of
Rest.

I know not how long I might have continued here, but Michaelmas drew on,
and it was agreed that I should go into service, at a farm-house in the
parish.  This did not give to me at first a very favourable impression,
but undoubtedly it was the right way into a “city of habitation.”
Thenceforth, on the 11th day of October, 1820.  I was received into the
family of Mr. John Garrard, of Laxfield, to be trained and disciplined as
a veritable farmer’s boy, and held myself ready to obey any instructions
and orders that might be presented.  My training commenced, I did not at
all dislike my new acquaintances, and after a few days felt quite at home
in my new position.  There was plenty of work, plenty of food, and a
goodly supply of company.

The family consisted of the master, mistress, four sons, and five
daughters.  There were also a man-servant, a maid servant, and myself.
Later on there came into the family a nephew, who was called Jonathan,
and frequently the master called him “Jonter.”  His father was brother to
the master, and having died April 22nd, 1811, aged 29 years, left him and
a sister to the frowns of an ungodly world, as also to the care of their
mother, who removed from Laxfield, to a place called Hartley Row, in the
county of Hants, there to revive old associations or to form new ones,
and in those engagements it did seem Jonathan could be spared from his
mother, then being about sixteen years of age when he came to live with
his uncle.

As regards myself, my business was to do what every one of the others
left undone, and bear the blame for all; but was so far favoured, there
was a standing rule that no stripes were to be administered but by the
hands of the master, so that, on the whole, amongst bulls and cows, pigs
and sows, children and chickens, and other bipeds, and quadrupeds, I was
not very lonely, and sometimes felt, after having to endure some pain and
privation, occasioned by the terrible sharp wintry storms that prevailed,
I could go on my way rejoicing.

Things went on, as far as I could observe, pretty easy.  The
establishment was a hive of industry; all that were able must work, and
good it was for us to be superintended by a good and careful master and
mistress.  About this time, the eldest son, John, was married, and left
us.  The second son, George, was bound apprentice to Mr. Kent, of
Beetles, a brazier and tin-plate worker.  The maid-servant was discharged
at the next coming Michaelmas, and I had to learn to milk the cows, and
carry the milk into the dairy, and empty it into the places assigned for
its reception.  Two of the daughters, Emma and Caroline, were now
requested to assist their mother in the duties of the house, while the
three youngest daughters and youngest son, Jesse, were continued at
school, so being prepared to occupy the vacant places when the elder ones
left.

But we must have a word or two respecting the new king, George IV.  He
had been so proclaimed in London and the provinces, but by reason of
unhappy differences subsisting between the king and his royal consort, a
fixed aversion and a formal separation had taken place.  He had ordered
her name to be struck off the Liturgy when Princess of Wales!

It was said she had raised a favourite Italian, in her employ, from an
humble station, to one of honour; had instituted a new order of
knighthood called the Order of St. Caroline; had decorated this person
with the insignia of that order, and had in other respects acted in a
manner unbecoming a British princess, which brought upon her the
continued displeasure of the king.  He ordered evidence to be taken
against her, and it was determined she should be brought to trial by the
peers of the realm.  This trial, which lasted fifty-three days, being
ended, violent debates took place in the House of Lords on the principle
of the Bill, and the proposed measure of depriving the queen, of her
title, prerogatives, rights, and privileges, formally abandoned.  This
was hailed as a complete acquittal by her friends, and was celebrated as
such by public rejoicings and illuminations, reaching my parish.

But the King’s anger was not appeased.  The 19th day of July, 1821, was
the day fixed for the coronation service.  It was said to have been a
magnificent ceremony, surpassing anything that had ever occurred on
former occasions.  But the queen, who had repeatedly applied to have a
place appointed for her to see the ceremony, on going to the Abbey was
refused admittance by the door-keepers, they not daring to let anyone
pass who had not a coronation ticket.  Thus mortified and humbled, she
returned to her house, and the impression it made on her mind was never
eradicated.  Harassed by severe and bitter trials, she was seized with a
sudden illness, which baffled the skill of her physicians, and on the 7th
August she breathed her last, being in the fifty-fourth year of her age,
her body being conveyed to Brunswick, and deposited in the vault of her
ancestors.

But, perhaps, the narration of those circumstances would seem to be a
digression, yet they are to my mind full of interest, and so closely
interwoven among my early associations that I cannot easily pass over
them.  I well remember the exhibition which took place in my native
village.  On one of the large painted pictures was displayed a figure of
the queen in her robes, and beneath was the brilliant motto,

    “Regina” still, in spite of them,
    Here then we rest.  The universal cause
    Acts to one end, but acts by various laws;
    Let this great truth be present night and day,
    But most be present if we preach or pray.

                                                    POPE’S _Essay on Man_.

There was nearly as much for me to do on a Sunday, during the winter
season, as on other days; the cattle must be fed; turnips within, and
straw without, must be placed ready for the cows to eat, and the fat pigs
were to be attended to, of which there was a good number, but sometimes I
had an opportunity of going to chapel, on an afternoon, when my work was
forward; and there were reading services in the family on Sunday
evenings, implying there was a desire to serve and obey the true and
living God.

Thus much for a beginning.  I soon learned to drive the tumbril, the
harrow, the roller, and the wagon, and was, perhaps, nearly as useful as
was expected to be; and on one occasion the master made me draw a furrow
across a field with a pair of horses, he following, and pronounced
himself satisfied with the result.

During my sojourn here, I was several times mercifully preserved from
death.  On one occasion I was driving a loaded tumbril from the yard,
where it was filled, to the manure heap, about a quarter-of-a mile on the
road, and then on to the meadow.  A horse which I was using, a wild young
creature, annoyed by the flies, started off as soon as I got upon his
back.  I was quite powerless, and lost all control over him.  He went at
full gallop straight home, and though a cart shed, that was standing by
the road-side, having beams across, and so constructed that there was
little height more than was required for an empty wagon.  I pressed my
head down as low as I could, and the interposing mercy of my God
preserved me, or I should have been dashed to pieces.  The horse ran
quite through, and then stopped as if by magic.  The men came out of the
yard, seeing the danger, and expected to have seen me killed, or
seriously injured; but neither myself nor the horse suffered any harm.  I
did not think much about it at the time, but I have many times looked
back with a thankful heart.—“Thou shalt remember all the way the Lord thy
God hath led thee.”

Another instance of great danger I will relate.  One summer’s morning,
being ordered to fetch the cows from the meadow, amongst them being a
furious bull, I found on my arrival that one of the cows had calved
during the night, close to which the dangerous male had taken up a
position.  I hastened home with the rest, and told the master what I had
seen.  It was considered that if I had attempted to drive him he might
have killed me.  The master directed me to take the barrow, and he would
go with me to the meadow, and take with him a hay-fork.  We went and
found them as I have stated, and no sooner had I placed the barrow near
the bull than the infuriated creature at once drove at me, and knocked me
down, but the master beat him off, and I was thus preserved from further
danger at that time, and escaped unharmed.

At another time, later on, the same beast attacked me in the cow-yard,
drove me against the faggots, and had got me completely in his power.  My
peril was witnessed by Josh Miles, who was thrashing in a barn.  He came
with his flail—a very formidable instrument—and the beast fled
immediately, and leaped over a high gate like a hunting horse, and then
looked about him for the next point of attack.  These, then, are some of
the deliverances extended unto me by the great and unceasing favour of my
God, for the which I desire to be devoutly thankful.

I am unable to enumerate all the dangers from which I have been
providentially delivered.  That same horse which ran away with me kicked
me afterwards in the side, but my hand caught the blow, and thus warded
off serious injury.  I was accustomed to have one-footed kicks from the
cows, but found the horse struck out with more effect.  Another peril
was: As myself and one of my young masters (Suffolk) were scarifying a
pea-stubble field we had two horses at length, and took turns, one to
ride on the scarifier, and the other to drive the horses.  We were going
on very cheerful and comfortable, when, suddenly, something distasted the
fore horse, and it came round to where I was sitting, and was entangled
among the counters with the horse’s feet.  In the fright and the danger
we had some little difficulty to extricate the poor horse, but we did
accomplish it.  I escaped with a few slight scratches on my hands and
legs, and what was better the horse was not much hurt, so that ultimately
we were able to accomplish our work, and to give an account of our mishap
to the master, without incurring much blame.  Here, again, I feel good
cause for thankfulness that I was so mercifully preserved, so that—

       “I muse on the years that are past,
       Wherein my defence Thou hast proved,
    Nor wilt Thou relinquish at last
       A sinner so signally lov’d.”—TOPLADY.

I might here be permitted to state my master, Mr. Garrard, at this time,
occupied a small farm in the parish of Stradbroke, distant about three
miles, to which myself and others were often sent, to do different kinds
of work, such as putting in the corn with the drill, sometimes getting in
a good lot of turnips, at other times getting up the hay and the corn in
harvest, when we had a wagon to be conveyed through the pleasant journey.
Adjoining our farm was one occupied by Mr. William Davey, and he also
kept a lad a year or two older than myself.  He felt himself sometimes
aggrieved, because he had so much to do in waiting upon his young
masters, so he thought he would cut the matter short, and, being sorely
irritated, he got up early one morning (oh! most dreadful act) and set
fire to the straw in the barn, which burnt and consumed the whole
premises, except the dwelling-house—an alarming conflagration; I saw it
blazing.  He was taken upon suspicion, tried, and found guilty, and
sentenced to be executed, which sentence was carried into effect at
Ipswich, on the 20th April, 1822.  A terrible example to all young men
was the death of William Aldous, late of Stradbroke.

Having passed through the various degrees of training incident to a
farming establishment, including the diversified labours of the season of
harvest, for my master boarded his men, and in some instances lodged them
as well; and the harvests were in those days somewhat cheerful and happy
seasons.  “Crowned with the sickle and the wheaten sheaf,” the
ingathering was equal to the demand of the coming winter, however severe
and rigid that season might be.

My master usually kept a man at his off-farm, but during my last two
years of service with him he placed me in that position.  The farm-house
was occupied by Samuel Tovell and John Pulham.  I lodged with the former,
and fetched my food from master’s house, being allowed to take a horse,
of which I had two under my care, as also several bullocks and pigs.  I
used to go to master’s house, and have Sunday dinner, and one evening
during the week regularly.

I received no money for my work, my remuneration was board, lodging,
washing, and clothes.  My master trusted to me to obey his orders, spoke
well of me, and I was encouraged by the designation of steward.  I was
promised that, if I was willing, I should be put to a business, which
would be better than being at a farm-house.  As time rolled on, a
neighbouring farmer, a friend of my master (Mr. Lenny), removed from out
of the parish to Worlingham, and that gentleman was requested to look out
for something for me.  He was successful, and it was arranged that I
should be placed under the care of Mr. George Sutton, a shoemaker, of
that parish.

My parents consented, and arrangements being completed, I was told to
prepare for my new destination.  Accordingly, I bade farewell to my old
neighbours and friends at Stradbroke and Laxfield, and in the month of
May, 1825, I started with George Pead, the carrier, to Halesworth, to
meet my new master, and thence to continue my journey to Worlingham, my
future residence.

The day was fine, the country looking cheerful after the storms of
winter, and our journey was accomplished in due course safely.  I had now
time to look around and reflect on my change.  I did not feel very joyful
at my new prospects; I felt that I was a “stranger in a strange land;” I
thought of old associations, and that did not add to my comfort.
However, amidst many discouragements, I thought that if I could learn my
business, I could settle down in after life, and be able to obtain
employment, and support those who might be in some measure dependent on
me.

My master was held to be a good tradesman, and appeared to have a good
run of trade; but I soon found he indulged in habits of drinking to
excess.  There was no veneration for the Sabbath, and consequently no
reverence for God’s commands.  He also indulged in profane conversation,
such as I had not hitherto been accustomed to; but I prayed for him.

My mistress was a tender-hearted, godly, pious woman, and would often
speak kindly to me when master was harsh, so that my sorrows were not
greatly multiplied.  Mr. Lenny came to see me at my new place (I had
known that gentleman when he resided at Laxfield); he harassed my
feelings; brought before my mind old associations, from whom I was
severed.  I felt completely broken down.  I have no doubt that was the
end he had in view.  He afterwards tendered a few healing words of
sympathy and kindness, and said that he would write to Laxfield, and let
my friends there know how I was getting on, and that, if I continued with
my master, and was obliging, he would give me a Christmas-box.  After
hearing these and other promises, I resigned myself to my new situation,
and felt that I would do my best, and try to learn to work.

After having been there a month, it was arranged that I should be bound,
Mr. L. being sponsor.  An indenture was prepared, and my own consent, and
that of my parents, being obtained, I was bound as an indoor apprentice,
to learn the art and mystery of a bootmaker, for the space of four years,
thirty-one weeks, and four days.

This seemed a long time to look forward, but I was beginning to feel more
reconciled.  I visited the customers with the master; had a good share of
jobs to attend to, as well as errands, the diversity of waiting upon the
master, the mistress, the children, the cow, the pony, and the pigs, and
my odd hours were to be spent in the work shop, in learning to stitch
pieces of leather together.

This latter was, to say the least of it, a tedious operation; I suffered
pain in my neck and back, but I had a fair amount of relaxation, and
during the whole of that summer I was not bound down very closely to the
trade, and had become somewhat acquainted with the young people of that
locality, by which I was cheered.

One of my acquaintances was a young man, apprenticed to William Pidgeon,
named John Scarlett.  That young man was a vessel of mercy, soon to be
gathered home to the heavenly garner.  He was my guide, philosopher, and
friend.  “We took sweet counsel together, and walked to the House of God”
in company.  He sought, and obtained, instruction from the best source,
and in turn I myself received much valuable instruction from him.

The first Christmas arrived.  During my apprenticeship I was permitted to
go to Laxfield, and see my parents.  I had not forgotten the promise as
to the Christmas-box, so I called on Mr. Lenny, and reminded him of what
I had not forgotten at this happy season.  I was invited to sit down to
table with his people, and have a bowl of good firmity.  While I was
enjoying the comfortable meal, Mr. L. came into the room, and asked me if
I thought I could ride a pony to Laxfield.  I was happy to answer in the
affirmative.  Orders were given, the pony was brought out, and doubly
glad was I to go and see my parents, and also to be furnished with a
horse to ride; but I was to leave it with Mr. Alling, the gentleman who
had been successful in preserving my eyesight, as before stated.

I delivered up my charge, with a letter of instructions from the sender.
I knew that Mr. Lenny’s eldest son was living with Mr. Alling, and most
likely the pony was for his son’s use.  However, I had performed my
engagement safely.  My short Christmas holiday soon came to an end, and,
taking leave of my parents, I was now, for the first time, on foot, to
measure the whole length of that dreary road that intervened between the
past and the future—the past I was somewhat acquainted with, but as to
the future, I wondered and pondered, and sped my way onward, sometimes
with tardy steps and a heavy heart, but during the evening of that short
winter’s day I arrived home.

I was under a promise to write to my parents, and inform them if I was
once more safe at home.  The postage was high at that time, being
eightpence for each letter.  We had not as yet felt the benefit of
Rowland Hill’s cheap postage, although we had the benefit of “Rowland
Hill’s Village Dialogues”—these are good and profitable.

I passed through my first winter pretty comfortable, now and then being
sent out with the pony, and sometimes with the cart, which pleased me
very well, as I so enjoyed a trip.

One morning I was called up rather early to fetch some milk for the
family, for the cow was not always in profit.  As soon as I had put on my
boots, and had opened the door, I fell down perfectly insensible and
unconscious.  My master and mistress were on the room above.  They
thought I was gone out, but when they found I was not, they soon came to
see.  They were greatly alarmed thinking it might occur frequently; and I
thought how easily my Father and my God could have removed me from this
troublesome world.  But thanks to His great goodness and mercy, I never
remember to have had a recurrence of that solemn visitation.  It brought
me to consider my state by nature, as a sinner before God; and I
expressed gratitude and thankfulness that my life was still preserved.

Thenceforth, I resolved to seek the Lord, feeling that it was my bounden
duty to serve Him, and I prayed for direction in this important matter.
My young friend, Scarlett, of whom I have spoken, was permitted to attend
the Wesleyan Chapel, at North Cove, and myself was also allowed to join
him, and we felt it a privilege to listen to the truths as there taught.
We felt that the Most High was the Father of Mercies, imparted to us, his
creatures, through the atonement of Christ for the remission of sins.  My
friend’s views were Calvanistic; mine were not so, and we were prompted
and exhorted to search the Scriptures.  We did search, comparing
spiritual things with spiritual help from above.

About this time, one of the members of the chapel (Mrs. Keer), of
Mutford, was removed by death, and a funeral sermon was preached in North
Cove Chapel, from the words: “Let me die the death of the righteous, and
let my last end be like his.”  We had then placed before us the
characteristics of a christian, or a believer, seeking salvation through
the merits of the Great Redeemer, and as obedient children looking and
praying and watching to the end of our course, amidst the temptations and
impediments that bestrew our pathway here below.  These timely
observations and other christian duties were insisted on by Mr. Gibson,
the good minister, the burden of which we treasured up in our young
minds, and in the case of my friend I have no doubt produced good fruit
unto eternal life, for his was destined to be but a short journey to the
Celestial City.

Mr. Pidgeon kept a cow, as did my master, and we sometimes had to drive
them to marsh in the summer season—about a mile.  We almost always had to
go on Sundays, and then we could talk over our religious impressions and
other matters.  As he had a pious mother, who prayed for him,
consequently he was a beloved partaker of the benefit, and he did
appreciate it as a brother beloved, elected of God.

    ’Tis well with the righteous, God views them as such,
    They go to their Father, and can’t ask too much;
    In Christ, they are righteous, and who dare bring a charge?
    The blood of atonement hath signed their discharge.

One Sunday morning, having gone down with our masters’ cows, and placed
them at their food, we had a little leisure to think, and to talk over
the goodness of God to us, his creatures.  Coming to an alder tree, fresh
and green, my companion stopped, and—taking off his cap said: “Here we
must have a little bit of prayer.”  Those were the words.  I was taken
somewhat by surprise.  We both knelt—the grass was our carpet; John led
off in earnest, solemn, heartfelt prayer, possessing the true spirit of
devotion—heard, and witnessed, and accepted in the heavenly courts above,
indicating an earnest of the promised possession of the heavenly
inheritance.  I feel something of the rekindling of God’s love while I am
recording this interesting incident.  When he had concluded I felt also
prompted to make the attempt, in compliance with his request, but my
sentences were feeble and broken, the very first that were ever heard in
prayer by a fellow-creature.

We often resorted thither for prayer subsequently, and often felt it to
be a time of refreshing from the presence of the Lord.  Once, on a
Beccles horse-racing occasion, we repaired thither, and prayed for the
giddy multitude, as also for our friends and acquaintances.  There was
another young man, James Taylor, whom we wished to draw into our company;
but, he being a servant, soon changed his master, and went beyond our
reach.  He is also gone to rest, having died at Lowestoft about 1860.

I attended to the commands of my master and mistress; was fairly fed; and
my duties were not very stringent.  I was not bound down so closely on
the shop seat, but had plenty of outing, and oftentimes worked very late
at night, so that we might forward our work, and accomplish the orders by
the end of the week, although there was often too much to be done on a
Sunday.  My master oft indulged himself in such company as are to be
found in public-houses, even on the Sabbath.  There were in those days no
restrictions as to the hours.  The houses were kept open all day long,
and sometimes he would take me with him, if there was not anything to
take me in any other direction.  On one occasion he stayed at the “Bell,”
at Beccles, a long time, and being unwilling to part with the company he
sent me on to Gillingham, two miles further.  He had a customer who lived
through Gillingham Toll-gale; thither I was to go to transact business,
and then return.  On my return, he was not ready to go home with me, but
said he would be soon.  After waiting till I was tired, I set off to go
home to Worlingham.  The mistress, knowing I had gone out with the
master, insisted upon knowing where I had left him; I stated the truth.
She felt uncomfortable, and said she would go and fetch him home.  I said
that it would not be advisable; that there were drunken people, who would
laugh to see her sorrows multiplied; and that, perhaps, she would bear
words by which she would be more grieved.  She did not go, and for years
after she appreciated the advice it was my happiness to tender on that
occasion.

I made progress in my trade; the time—4 years, 31 weeks, and 4 days were
being reduced, for time flies.  My master’s father occupied a small farm
in the same parish.  Master and I used often to go and help him in busy
seasons, such as hay and harvest seasons.  I was also allowed to help
master’s customers a few days during the harvest, being always supplied
with good harvest food; sometimes the strong ale would make me stagger;
and, although I had to work harder, somehow I always felt delighted with
the change.

We had only one service at the parish church each Sunday, that being one
reason why I was permitted to attend chapel, and sometimes my friend John
and I were allowed to go to the Primitive Chapel, at Beccles.  This was
during the early ministry of Robert Key; and sometimes we were privileged
to listen to that good man, and were instructed and comforted thereby,
admiring his plain and easy style of preaching, the gospel of truth and
love, through the atonement and satisfaction of our Lord Jesus Christ,
and the infinite importance of being saved from wrath through Him.  The
good Lord crowned this man’s efforts with abundant success, and he became
a “burning and a shining light.”

My master was a kind of sportsman; he kept a gun, also a dog, and
occasionally used them.  We were friendly with the gamekeeper, and as we
did not annoy or pursue the game, no notice was taken of the master.  I
say “we,” for I was allowed to use the gun, and shoot as many
wood-pigeons as I could during the winter seasons, for we could not work
much at the trade during the sharp weather.  The family increased—a third
son was born named Robert; in process of time a fourth named Samuel.
Master built a workshop, for the cottage was becoming too small.  He
suggested that I should lodge in the new building.  I preferred staying
in the old quarters, and ultimately was permitted to do so to the end of
my engagement.

I had often to go very long journeys on Sunday mornings—especially those
Sundays when there was no service at church—to Ellough, to Hulver, to
Henstead, to Mutford, and sometimes through Beccles to Gillingham, and on
one occasion I went with master to Bungay on business.  In this and many
other ways the Sabbath was greatly desecrated, while the world with its
fascinations and alurements obtained faithful service.

About this time a very tragical affair occurred in our parish.  My
friend’s master was on his way home from Beccles, one Saturday night,
very late, when, before he arrived at his house, he was attacked by a
ruffian, beaten about the head, and almost killed.  It was said he would
have been quite murdered, but he had a very thick hairy head—something
like a negro’s—by reason thereof the blows did not take fatal effect.

He managed to reach home, and they naturally were greatly alarmed at his
condition.  My friend was called up, and sent to Beccles for the doctor.
He had to go past where the murderous attack had been committed, the
ground being still moist with blood.  Coming to the place, he told me, he
came upon his master’s hat, and having placed it over into Worlingham
Park till his return, went forward again unmolested.  Arriving at the
town, by Fair Close, when near the Prison, there was a gate and a style,
he said he knelt down, and prayed that the Lord would be merciful to his
master, and heal him, and spare him a little longer.  This was, perhaps,
the first prayer offered in Beccles on that Sunday morning—it was past
midnight.  When his poor injured master arrived at his home that prayer
was heard and answered, for by assiduous and skilful treatment, poor
William Pidgeon’s life was preserved some twenty years longer.  A reward
£100 was offered by the Government, upon proof of the offence being
established against the perpetrator, but it was not discovered until the
poor conscience stricken miserable wretch confessed to it upon his dying
bed.  This was the outcome of the burden of a guilty conscience.

During all my servitude hitherto I had but a small amount of pocket
money; but in my last year, 1829, after earning a certain sum for master
weekly, I was allowed the surplus, and, another coming in to take some of
the out-door turns, I could sit and work at the trade more closely, and
with more energy, and this also proved an advantage to the master, as
well as to myself: thus our interests were to a certain extent mutual,
although when a mistake happened, as it sometimes did, then it would
assuredly be religion that was most ridiculed, of the which poor master
could not discover there was any necessity, although admonished by
repeated warnings that our days are as a vapour which soon vanisheth
away.

I was now becoming more and more acquainted with the trade of country
boot-making, and was considered, as an apprentice, a very decent hand,
considering I was learning in a village.  I liked my trade tolerably
well, and was, perhaps, on the whole, fairly obliging, amongst the wax,
the thread, the leather, and the nails, and all other concomitants
incident to a boot-making establishment, to which I had, by this time,
become almost naturalised, and felt quite at home as a few extra pence
came into my pocket, for although I had permission to go to Beccles to
fairs and races, and such like amusements, yet I did not often prefer to
accept those seeming favours—those gilded baubles, which perish with the
using.  My friend would say, “Let us go for our cows an hour sooner, then
we can kneel down and pray for the giddy, noisy multitude,” many of whom
were slaves to sin and Satan, fast bound in the snare, from which nothing
short of a divine power can extricate—

    So sad our state by nature is,
       Our sin how deep its stains,
    And Satan binds our willing souls
       Fast in his slavish chains.

One very warm summer day, we (that is, myself, master, and his father)
were after the hay, on the bank of the Waveney, and I told them I should
like to have a bathe.  They cautioned me to be careful I was not drowned.
I repeated that I should make the attempt, but they tried to dissuade me.
I told them to “Look out!” and I went over and back easily and
safety—preserved and supported by an Omnipotent Almighty hand, when many
have been permitted to sink in the stream, and are lost! lost! lost! for
ever.  This is the manner in which my giddy steps were preserved, and my
youthful career safely and lovingly onward led, and I was permitted to
see the “bright light in the cloud.”

I will now state that my apprenticeship closed on the 31st of December,
in the year above-mentioned.  It began on the 24th of May, 1825.  Having
agreed with my master to work for him for a time, I commenced to work as
journeyman.  After having visited a few of my old friends, I took
lodgings near with a couple of aged people named Whyatt, where I was very
comfortable.  Their youngest son had been apprenticed to Mr. Pidgeon, my
friend John having left, or was about leaving his master, and very soon
after was summoned to bid adieu to all earthly things, and to enter into
his everlasting rest, into which the writer desires to be found, waiting
and watching, even unto the end of his course.

I started in housekeeping—bought good bread at Jones’s, of Beccles, and
good meat at Crickmoy’s, near the “Red Lion Inn,” and other necessaries
were easily obtainable, so that I got on during the first winter fairly
well, but had not much money to spare, for perhaps I could have done more
work if I had had more alloted to me, but was thankful that the prospect
was encouraging.  I worked and sung, walked to my lodgings and enjoyed my
coffee and my rest.  I did not book myself at this station only for a
short time; the other apprentice, James Smith, was becoming useful, and
as the winter passed away, the work in summer did not come in so briskly.

During the summer of this year, 1830, the reign of George IV. came to an
end, a short reign, but many troubles, and the national mind manifested
no expression of regret on the demise of this self-indulgent and
passion-gratifying monarch, while that of his predecessor was said to be
just, pious, temperate, and beneficent; every domestic and social grace
adorned his character—the ruler and the ornament of a powerful and
wealthy empire.

William Henry succeeded to the throne under the title of William IV.

As it happened, the people at Worlingham, with whom I lodged had a son,
who had just taken a business in the parish of St. Lawrence, near Bungay,
an agricultural district.  This man, wanting another hand, I was engaged
to go there to work for him, for a time: but the poor master was not very
successful.  His wife was afflicted with violent epileptic fits.  I
continued with him about a year, and we had a good run of work, but
adverse circumstances bore him down, and in a short time after he left
his suffering wife in the care of her parents, sold his effects, and
emigrated to America, and I heard but little more of George Whyatt.  As
to myself, I was glad to leave the neighbourhood, for gross darkness
seemed to have covered the minds of the people, being “led captive by the
adversary at his will,” from whose power they were not easily delivered,
except by divine interposition.  The “Royal Oak” was the place of meeting
on Sundays.  There were then no prohibited hours.  Those, who appeared to
be of the better class, did not scruple to spend the best part of the
Sabbath at the tavern—sad waste of life and time.

From this place, I thought I should like to obtain work at Laxfield, my
native village.  My parents were still there, and I tried, but did not
succeed.  There was no open door, and the right way was more eastward and
I once more tented my steps to Worlingham, and perhaps felt more happy
than I had been for some time.  Being accepted at my former lodgings, I
worked sometimes for my late master, and sometimes for his father, and
had the free use of my hands and feet, and withal felt the privilege of
breathing in a more salubrious atmosphere, the comfort of which I felt to
be of considerable value, as my aim was not to be conformed to the world.
I could attend the services of the church, and also the services of the
Wesleyan Methodist Chapel, where I found much spiritual instruction,
although, by the way, I did not endorse all their sentiments.  My views
were becoming Calvanistic, which were strengthened when I occasionally
heard Mr. George Wright, Baptist Minister, of Beccles, and Mr. Sloper, of
the Congregational Chapel of that town, both of whom are departed hence,
and have entered into their rest to be for ever with the Lord, while it
is my privilege to follow, although at an humble distance, amid the
perplexing and diversified vicissitudes to which poor fallen man is
subject in this time state, and having no settled and permanent repose,
is continually reminded that the true and substantial rest is at the end
of his journey, if sought after according to the instructions contained
in God’s Holy Word.

About this time I thought as I had no one but myself, I would try
gentleman’s service, not that I had any particular wish to leave
Worlingham, but on the whole I thought I might better my condition, so
agreed to go into the service of Edmund Skepper, Esq., Maltster, at
Oulton, in the capacity of a groom and gardener.  The family here
consisted of master, mistress, widowed daughter, and grand daughter, two
female servants, myself, and a lad living out to attend to cows, fowls,
pigs, &c.

The family professed to serve the Lord, the house-hold were summoned to
morning devotion before breakfast: a short piece being read and prayer
offered; also evenings before retiring to rest, bible reading and prayer:
sermon and prayer on Sunday evenings.

The services at the parish church were held alternately morning and
afternoon, the other part we generally attended the church at Lowestoft,
where we heard good Mr. Cunningham, or his curate, Mr. Hankinson, or Mr.
Hawtry, of Pakefield; there was also a religious service held at a
cottage near, conducted by Mr. Skepper, jun., who resided near with his
family.  At times I was permitted to attend those evening services, but
that gentleman was not permitted to stay here but 42 years, he was
attacked with violent typus fever during the summer of 1837, and was
carried off after a short illness, leaving a widow with four sons and two
daughters to mourn their loss.  I wrote a few verses on the occasion of
his funeral, this is a specimen.

    Oh messenger, how keen thy blow,
    Our worthy friend thou hast laid low:
    Yet we rejoice our reason’s just,
    In Jesus’ blood he placed his trust.

I did not reside with this gentleman’s father at the time of his death,
he having died the previous year, 1836, the mother having died in 1835.
How quickly we are gone!

I must beg to make a retrograde movement here, and go back to the duties
devolving on me as gardener: the winter rolled on and spring approached,
preparations were needed, there was in the garden a forcing pit, such an
one I had never before seen, I sought and obtained the advice and
assistance of Richard Sturman, he directed me how to proceed; acting
under his advice we had a satisfactory supply of cucumbers, melons, and
other garden produce.

The elder Mr. Skepper greatly admired the colony of rooks that assembled
during the early spring, and when their young ones were about leaving, he
used to being out his air gun and bring down the black family with great
precision, my duty on those occasions was to perform the office of armour
bearer, and to pump the air into the empty tube while the other was being
expended; it was rather a hard job but did not last many hours at a time,
and then only in fine weather.  I had also to grind and deliver out small
quantities of malt (not less then a peck), to the workpeople and others,
the grinding was performed by a handmill, but when any extra quantity was
required, I had the assistance of the lad John Adams, who was always at
hand, and willing to lend a helping hand in any emergency, although often
irritated by there petition of the noisy bell, which generally stood very
handy to summon the out-of-door satellites.

I usually drove master out two or three times a week, sometimes to
Lowestoft, or Beccles, or Yarmouth, or other places, calling upon farmers
and others in the way of trade.  God, in his goodness, so preserved us
that we never met with any accident, although late at night getting home.
Their daughter, Mrs. Clarke, had a pony and chaise for the private use of
herself and daughter.  I did not drive them except on Sunday to Church,
to Lowestoft or Pakefield, as they felt inclined.

In the month of July of the first year I was living with this family, I
lost my dear father by death, he being only 59 years off age—1833.  My
mother was left to sorrow for his departure, and to work her way through
the various trials which bestrewed her path, supported by a watchful,
kind, overruling Providence, many years.

Favoured with an excellent state of health, I did not at all regret
leaving the shoe trade for a time, and perhaps this healthful employment
may have been the means of lengthening out my life, under the divine
favour who has guarded my steps in all my journey hitherto, and will
continue to do so unto the end of my course.

Mr. Charles Fisher was rector of Oulton at this time, having been
appointed in 1829.  He was greatly afflicted, and had a curate, Mr.
Richard Pearson, to perform the duties in the parish.  I forbear to
insert the prefix which clergymen of the Church of England, and many
Dissenting ministers also use, because I think the appellation belongs to
God rather than to His creatures, however pure and holy their office or
character.  Whenever I hear it spoken as applied to a creature, it grates
harshly on my ear, but it may be consistent nevertheless.

I had often an opportunity of conversing with John Adams, the elder (a
working maltster on the establishment), and his good wife, both members
of a Christian church, who were seeking to walk in the ways of the Lord.
I also felt a longing desire to follow in their steps, as they were
following Christ, our Great Redeemer, the infinite freeness, and the
unspeakable preciousness of his electing love.  Why were any chosen, when
all might justly have been passed by?  Because he was resolved, for His
own name’s sake, to make known the riches of His glory on the vessels of
mercy, whom He therefore prepared unto grace and glory.

Thus, then, the summer of 1833 passed away.  The garden crops had been
very fair, and the orchard crops were abundant.  I revelled among the
apples, plums, pears and walnuts, day after day, when the weather was
suitable.  In process of time, they were stored, as a supply for the
family during the approaching winter, and, moreover, I engaged to remain
with the family another year.

The storage of potatoes now commenced.  A large space had been planted,
and now they must be gathered in.  Happily, there were no traces of that
fearful blight, which have been so prevalent in these latter years, and
which we trust will speedily be removed by the interposition of a kind
and merciful God, who assuredly doeth all things well, as the
preservation of our lives and health abundantly testify, rejoicing our
hearts as we are permitted to gather in the superabundant blessings
bestowed by the Fatherly hand of the Giver of all good.

The spring succeeded; the ground required preparation, and for crops to
be got in no time must now be lost, and, with the assistance of a man now
and again, to do some of the heavy digging, and by perseverance, favoured
with a continuation of health, and other blessings, I felt that the
onward course was somewhat cheerful, rejoicing in the notes of the
peacock, the cuckoo, the nightingale, and others of the feathered throng
by which we were surrounded.

It was in this place that I first saw my future wife.  She had come into
the same service as housemaid, and Mary Ann Newson (the future wife of
George Anguish) as cook and dairymaid.  Very industrious servants they
were, considering Oulton Hall was not the best constructed residence.
There was a flight of stairs from the kitchen, but they led to the
mistress and master’s room.  I was only permitted to pass through that
room by special license, at other times having to pass through the
parlour on my way to a corridor which led to my bedroom: the family had
not then retired to rest.  We had reading and prayers at half past eight
o’clock, then I had to go out and see if all was right, and pass quietly
to bed at nine.  There was always plenty of work requiring to be
done—horses and chaises to be attended to, going out when ordered, gravel
and grass in front to keep in order, crops in garden to keep up in
succession, weeds to keep down, walks to keep neat, fruit to protect from
a hundred and one enemies, against some of which I had to wage war, and
make their destruction sure, no longer to cause any annoyance.

The season of summer quickly passed away, and the 11th of October, 1834,
arrived, when my agreement expired, as also did the female servants’, and
new situations were now sought.  For myself, I thought I would turn my
attention to the boot line, at Lowestoft, but soon found my work would
not pass, as being not altogether suitable for town inspection,
consequently, I agreed with Mr. R. Winyard, a practical bootmaker, of the
High-street, to club myself to him for one year, he to find me all the
work I could fairly do, and himself to instruct me in the art, where he
saw my knowledge defective.  My future wife (Hannah Cox) obtained a
situation as housemaid in the family of E. Norton, Esq., solicitor,
London Road.

There had been two young men, just before, in the service of Mr. Winyard,
who had sickened and died.  This was rather a singular, as also a
discouraging circumstance, yet I thought if the good Lord was pleased to
continue unto me good health, I would try to do my best, so that I should
be able in future to obtain employment.  I soon found my work had to pass
through a different process to what I had been accustomed.  The master
was patient, and set before me what he considered correct lines, in
preference to those which I had acquired in the country, for although he
had served his apprenticeship in the country at the time I was serving,
but not with the same master, yet, after his time expired, he worked in
large manufacturing towns, such as Norwich, Northampton, Cambridge, and
Bedford, from which latter place he brought his wife, and settled down in
Lowestoft, and obtained a good fair share of the work of that town.

As to myself, my means were rather limited.  I found I must adhere to
economy.  I lodged in the master’s house, so that when business was
urgent, I could rise early and attend to it, and had not to wait for
anyone to let me in.  This was rather an advantage, which was duly
appreciated, whether in winter or summer.  Our principal work was
Wellington boots and Bluchers.  I came in for a good share of this work,
as there was also a man from Norwich, who done the women’s work, and
there was likewise a good share of blocking done by me.  That was a
process I had not witnessed during my apprenticeship.  It was to strain
the fronts of Wellingtons and other boots, so that they might fit and set
close upon the instep, clean and even, that the boot might be comfortable
and smart when it was worn.

There was another bootmaker on the opposite side of the street, and there
he exhibited a show boot.  The fingers of our Norwich man seemed eager to
tear this unnecessary appendage from its not very lofty position.  It was
decided that down it must come.  There were no policemen in Lowestoft at
this time, otherwise our steps would have been more marked with prudence.
A ladder was marked out at a building, and about midnight Mr. Palmer’s
elegant boot went speedily down the turnpike, its mutilated remains being
subsequently found in a garden in that direction, never more to be
restored to its former position, however much it might be needed.

This was to me an obscure and hazy atmosphere; the family did not
reverence the Lord; there was not that veneration for the Sabbath, to
which I had been accustomed, the motto most absorbing was working,
eating, and drinking, but I had an upper room to myself and when the
day’s business was over, I enjoyed that retirement so desirable and
refreshing to all God’s children.  I preserved in the business, under the
instruction of the master.

There were two apprentices on the shop, George Nobbs and George Youngman.
There was also a journeyman of the name of Edward Marjoram, all of them
having died young men, while I am suffered to journey onward, amidst many
difficulties, yet still supplied, protected, and sustained by the good
hand of my God.

Amidst the many changes, the cares, the dangers, and the perplexities, as
also the many comforts, I experienced, the year rolled away, and my
experience gave me reasons to hope that I should have a fair amount of
work in the establishment, with fair wages, which, to a certain extent,
was realised, so that onward I continued to work for Mr. Winyard, at
Lowestoft.

My sweetheart having left Mr. Norton’s family, she subsequently obtained
a situation at Yarmouth, in the family of J. Hurry, Esq., as she said she
thought it best to take a wider distance.  I continued to work at
Lowestoft, as before, and was elevated to the master’s seat, there being
nearly enough for him to attend to downstairs, and at other places.  I
felt desirous of making the best use of my time, and being on piecework,
could sometimes make long days, but at other times work did not come up
so freely.  Then the hands became impatient and wearied, when anxious to
earn money, and could not seem to get forward.  These were some of the
beginnings of the trials of life, and they were to be continued, however
desirous it might be to have them removed, but while permitted, they have
their effects upon those whom they are designed to benefit.

The cheap postage had not yet come into operation, but letters could be
enclosed in brown paper, and thus, taking the form of a parcel, were
conveyed to Yarmouth, and safely delivered for the sum of twopence, by
Mr. John Balls, at that time a carrier, residing at the corner of Duke’s
Head Street, Lowestoft.

I continued to work in that town until drawing towards the close of the
summer of 1836.  I was asked by Mrs. Clarke if I would agree to come into
her service; she would give me a week to think it over.  I did so, and
knowing them to be quiet, religious people, arranged to go to reside in
their house, and be their servant.  They kept a pair of ponies and a
four-wheeled phæton.  The family consisted of mistress (a widow lady),
daughter, housekeeper, and myself, so that when all went out together,
the carriage was fairly filled.

There had been several changes taken place since I left the family at
Oulton Hall in 1835, the mistress having died, and in the following year
the master was borne away, consequently the brother, B. Skepper, Esq.,
before mentioned, agreed with Mrs. Clarke, his sister, to change
residences, the brother having previously, with his family occupied the
smaller house, the “Cottage.”  It was at the cottage, by the river side
where I was to be located during the approaching winter, and soon became
initiated in my new duties.  The two ponies were old acquaintances, as
also the superiors, but I had to make the acquaintance of the housekeeper
and a furious-looking dog.  This was soon accomplished, and we professed
to be a family desirous of serving the Lord, the God of our fathers.
There was another cottage near, occupied by John Adams, his wife, and
family.  They were people who for many years had been walking in the ways
of the Lord, and they felt anxious that my hand should strengthened in
this important matter.  They belonged to the denomination called
Baptists, exhibiting and illustrating the doctrine of our inability to do
works meet for repentance by reason of Adam’s transgression, we must
first have a good will, which is the gift of God, and then must have
divine grace working in us when we have that goodwill.  And these good
works of ours, yea! our very best performances, are taken to go for
nothing in the matter of our salvation.  This must be accomplished
entirety by the imputed righteousness of our Saviour Jesus Christ.  That
our inability to repent and believe it by reason of that spiritual death
in which we are by nature so fearfully involved.

My superiors were members of the Church of England, and the housekeeper,
although having lived in a clergyman’s family, yet she had been led to
believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and also to receive the ordinance of
baptism by immersion, as the only scriptural mode on a profession of
faith in God’s beloved eternal Son.  Here, again, we compared these
sentiments with God’s word, searched the Scriptures daily, whether things
were so; many of these truths, which before had been obscured by
blindness and prejudice were now like beacons shining brightly in a dark
place.  We, one and all, under the teaching, the comforting, the
illuminating, and instructing power and guidance of the Holy Spirit went
on our way rejoicing.

Mr. Charles Fisher, rector of the parish, having died in the early part
of this year, a new rector Edwin Proctor Dennis, came to reside in
Oulton, but as there was no rectory house suitable, a new house was,
after a little time built, and it was also arranged there should be two
services at the church instead of one, as formerly.  We usually attended
those services at least three of the four, one staying at home for a
little protection to the house, and on Sabbath evenings we drove off to
Lowestoft—superiors to St. Peter’s, while the servants were allowed to go
to the Baptist Chapel, and to be down with the carriage in time service
was over.  This was the general routine: occasionally we posted off to
St. Peter’s, on a Sunday morning, but not often.

We were generally very quiet and unmolested.  Now and then, the mistress
was somewhat annoyed by hearing the report of a gun, and used to send me
to look after the intruder, and, if possible, obtain his name and
authority, and bring in his statement, but they were not proceeded
against, only warned to keep off the estate.  I had here to attend to the
garden, and walks, as also carriage road through the meadow; carriage and
harness to keep in order; and many jobs indoors, so that, with going out,
my time was pretty well occupied.  We had evening and morning reading and
prayers, and, on the whole, I had not much to complain of.  There was
great regularity; each evening and morning brought its work, and
attention to be given at the proper time.  Winter being over, and the
smiling spring having arrived, the pleasant month of May, a relative of
the mistress had arranged to be married.  My ladies were invited to the
wedding, and I was asked if the ponies could do the journey—52 miles.  I
thought it could he accomplished in two days, by stopping at Norwich (a
distance of 24 miles) the first night, and by terminating the journey on
the second day.  It will be remembered that, in the days to which I am
alluding, there were no railroads in these parts.  Next came the
necessary preparations—it was essential that the ponies should be in good
health, their shoes must be strong and good, harness must not be
defective, and the carriage in trim, and everything placed in readiness
for the long journey.

At the appointed time, we took our departure, the weather being fine and
the country charming; and, there being no necessity for fast travelling,
we were enabled to admire the beauties of Nature, and to scan the various
operations which were being carried on in the fields and roads as we
passed.  Norwich, in due time, was reached.  My mistress and her daughter
were driven to the residence of their friends, and I received
instructions to proceed with the vehicle to a livery stable, situate in
St. Giles’, where the ponies were fed and rested, I afterwards proceeding
to my lodgings.  The next morning we were all astir, and, after having
partaken of breakfast, we again proceeded onwards.  Mr. Pilgrim,
coroner—whose duties might have led him thither—accompanied us to
Dereham, and for the purpose of placing him down, and also for feeding
the ponies, we pulled up at the Eagle Hotel.  Resuming our journey, the
great coach passed us as we were nearing our destination, and the Manor
House, at Swaffham, was soon reached.

The nuptials were celebrated, Mr. William Clarke and his bride left for
their honeymoon.  I don’t think that I have ever seen them since.  During
our visit, of a week’s duration, in the day time I was at the Manor
House, but at night I slept at the house of the farm bailiff, at the neat
little lodge.

Swaffham church is possessed of a very handsome tower, the bells of which
rang out beautifully on that happy occasion.  It was a joyful season—the
whole town seemed as if they must be real joy birds, as the bridegroom
was the only child of his aged parents.

I attended church on the Sabbath morning, there being a large
congregation assembled within its walls; and in the afternoon visited the
Baptist Chapel with Alice (one of the servants at the Manor House) and
heard a very solemn discourse, delivered by Mr. Hewitt, the minister at
that place.  The Union House was then being built, and I have not seen it
since it was completed.  We drove round several villages—Sporle,
Castleacre, and Southacre.  Thus the time passed on, until the period
arrived for us to make our return journey.  In doing so, we again stayed
a night in Norwich, and subsequently, thanks for the mercies of our God,
we arrived safe at Oulton.

During the same year, 1837, Mrs. Clarke’s only brother was borne to a
cold grave, being only 42 years of age.  He had just been altering the
house and premises to his own mind, when he was called away from this
transitory state.  My youngest brother also sickened and died in this
year, at the age of 22, having been born in the month in which the battle
of Waterloo was fought.  Seeing our days are as a vapour, every sorrow
cuts a string and urges us to rise.  Thus we are called to experience the
various scenes of light and shade through which we have to pass in
prosecuting our journey to our final home.

Having had many opportunities of discussing the subject of regeneration
and the new birth, and as God, in His boundless mercy, had granted unto
me the presence of His Holy Spirit to witness with my spirit that He was
indeed in earnest with me, and thus I was brought to feel the weight of
this question, “and now, why tarryist Thou, arise and be baptised.”  I
stated my convictions unto the church worshipping at Lowestoft, opposite
the Vicarage (now a school,) and was baptised in June of that year by
William Garwood, “in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the
Holy Ghost,” as an answer of an obedient and quickened conscience towards
my Lord and my God.  I did not very much enjoy the preaching of Mr.
Denniss, our rector.  He was rather a domineering steward, contending
that the Church of England, the church of his fathers, was the only true
church; that it honours the bible, and was one of the oldest branches of
Christ’s Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church, while dissenters and their
creeds and ordinance, were erroneous and misleading and would in the end
prove destructive to body and soul.  I came into collision with that
gentlemen more than once, for in those days I read the bible in search of
truth, and sometimes I felt I had aid and enlightenment given me from on
high, and I concluded that there were those apart from the Church
enjoying unspeakable happiness.

This eventful year rolled on with its multitude of joys and sorrows,
hastening us on through all life’s varied stages, continually seeking
after happiness, our being’s end and aim, and labouring, working with our
hands, the most important method of obtaining the bread which sustains
the body, as well as being directed to that which endureth unto eternal
life, which shall be inherited and enjoyed by everyone of God’s dear
children.  I used to think that the entire little band who resided at
that remote corner of the vine-yard, at least all who were come to years
of maturity, were amongst that happy number, we read good books, prayed
that the Lord would be our director, and felt that we were journeying to
the place which the Lord had prepared for those that love and serve his
name.  I had often heard Mr. Adams express himself, that Mr. Breame
Skepper was to him a guide, a counsellor, and friend, but now he was
taken away no more to counsel, and to comfort, and direct.  These are
some of the mysterious dispensations of a wise and loving Father, and
although we are not now permitted to know the whys and the wherefores,
yet we shall know hereafter, enough is for the present revealed, that we
may trust in the Lord, and stay ourselves upon his gracious assurances,
and surely “All things work together for good to them that love God.”

I ought to have observed that one of the first acts performed by Mr.
Denniss was to build a gallery at the west end of the Church, for the
accommodation of the working men; in this he was assisted by others, as
the subjoined inscription witnesseth—

    “This gallery was erected at the expense of the patron and some of
    the principal landowners of the parish, A.D., 1836.”

                     EDWIN P. DENNISS, B.C.L.  _Rector_.

                          HENRY YOUNGMAN, BREAME SKEPPER, _Churchwardens_.

Next he had to superintend the building of a Rectory House, this took
place 1837–8; it was accomplished, and a very handsome and convenient
house it looks, but it was not for the enjoyment of its builder very
long, and while I am writing it has been the residence of three rectors
beside Mr. Denniss, who was a working clergymen, and no doubt felt whilst
he was industriously promoting habits of thrift and economy among the
working classes, and founding what was called a clothing club, he was
doing the work of the Lord, yet it was thought and said that too much of
it was transacted on the day of the Lord; in other respects it was a
means of drawing the common people to church, where much of this business
was transacted, and carnal things took the place of spiritual.

Other great events occurred during that memorable year 1837.  Our King
William IV. whose health had been for some months in a precarious state,
died at Windsor, on the 20th of June, after a short reign of seven years.
There was a large gathering at St. Peter’s Chapel on the day of the
funeral, a solemn service was conducted by Mr. Cunningham, the vicar, the
text was from _Micah_ vi. 9, “The Lord’s voice crieth unto the city, and
the man of wisdom shall see thy name, hear ye the rod, and who hath
appointed it.”

Our good Queen Victoria was proclaimed on the day following, as sovereign
of these realms, and on the 28th of June, in the following year, 1838,
the coronation of Her Majesty took place amidst great rejoicing.

My affianced still resided at Yarmouth, and during that summer she came
on a holiday to see her parents, and I obtained leave of absence to meet
her there, that we might talk over our present affairs and also the
future, as to continuing in service or declining that position and
commencing a boot and shoe business on our own account, and ultimately
the latter was decided on, and we returned to our homes to complete our
engagements, and to apprize our superiors that we declined to remain in
their service after the coming Michaelmas, things were thus far plain and
understandable.

As a beginning to make preparations for the change in my condition, I
hired a cottage and garden of Mr. Johnson George, miller of Oulton, at £6
per year, and on the 16th day of October, 1838, was married to Hannah
Cox, whose parents resided in the village.  Mr. Denniss was the clergyman
and Mr. John Osborn was clerk of the aforesaid parish.

I am now arrived at something like the middle of my journey, and will
just take a retrospect, all the way the Lord my God hath led me, to guard
me, to try me, to prove me, and to see what is in mine heart.  Now let me
just ask myself am I thankful?

    “When all thy mercies, O my God,
       My rising soul surveys.”

Is my heart filled with gratitude for all those supports and
deliverances?  And then again as to the prospect here, I stand as it were
on a narrow neck of land with boundless seas on either side, if God
preserves I am perfectly safe, but if left to follow the devices and
inclination of my corrupt and stubborn heart, shall be weighed down with
perplexing cares and sorrows, out of which it is no easy matter to be
delivered, except by divine interposition, then looking onward I must
labour, working with hands and mind, to obtain the bread that perisheth,
as also that which endureth unto eternal life, being identified with and
living in Him who is the bread of life which came down from heaven.

I may just say in passing, that the housekeeper, Marianne Rous, was soon
after married to Christopher Leman, a cooper of Lowestoft, the mistress,
also, after a little while went forth from her residence, and during her
temporary absence was married to Mr. George Borrow.  That gentleman
having visited several times while I was in Mrs. Clarke’s services,
although, by the way, I knew not the secret.

I had now to look out for employment.  Mr. Winyard promised to give me
some, so after it I went, and soon got up a little connection at home;
all wanted boots and I wanted to work and obtain the money, although in
this I was often disappointed.  I soon taught my wife to work in the boot
trade, the work was all performed by hand in those days, machines had not
come into use, and although I could not undertake to bind women’s boots,
yet I knew the method by which they were done, as also the materials
required for the purpose, the difficulty was soon overcome; she was
blessed with good eyesight as well as with very pliant fingers, and after
a year or two she would do neater work in even men’s boots and shoes than
I could: there was a willing mind and thus obstacles were overcome;
customers were accommodated, the little business obtained an impetus, and
the earnest and humble promoters received encouragement.

When harvest arrived, my wife prepared to go out in the fields gleaning,
and gathered up two or three bushels of good wheat, which was a great
help, as during first year of housekeeping flour was two shillings and
ninepence per stone, even that was trying to young beginners, for there
was in reality a good number of things wanting, and our little trade
seemed to absorb the cash in the purchase of materials, so that we had
but little left for food and other necessaries.  However, under the
blessing of God we made progress, having more than a handful of meal in a
barrel, and more than two sticks to refresh the languishing fire, the
Lord did provide.

There was a large pear tree in our garden, two nice apple trees, and a
cherry tree, all bringing a little delicious fruit; we had not many pears
the first year, but the second year there was a good crop, and we sold
more than twenty shilling’s worth, beside what we gave away and used
ourselves.  I built a pigsty and put a pig in, that my wife might have
something to look at when she walked in the garden, the pig settled and
did nicely, and when it was killed it weighed 13 stone; we were cheered
as the pig prospered, we felt we prospered also, and no doubt we did
begin to get on nicely while we occupied the cottage and premises of Mr.
Johnson George, at Oulton.

We bought and put in the front room of our cottage, a register stove,
three-feet square, the selling price was one shilling per inch, costing
£1 15s., landlord supplying a new chimney piece, and we put up an iron
oven in the back room, but we did not continue in that occupation very
long, we spent four seasons of Christmas there, when, their son Henry
being about to be married we had to leave and make room for the old
people, who, by the way, had to make room for the younger ones.  We
agreed to go, and leave behind the stove which is still in the room,
after forty years use.  We took away the iron oven to another cottage,
which I engaged of Mrs. Pleasance Knights at the rent of £4 10s. per
year; at that time standing empty, the next tenement being also empty,
they would not stand empty now if owners wished them occupied.  This was
rather a convenient old cottage, it supplied a room on the front side,
which I could use for a workshop, which was a great accommodation, and at
Christmas, that is on the 6th of January, 1842, we left Mr. George’s
cottage, as requested, and took our goods and chattels to Mrs. Knights’s
cottage, on the hill, and although it was sometimes a sad place for
smoking, yet we had a good share of employment, and on the whole,
although we met with some who were not at all times inclined to act
uprightly, yet there was a good preponderance of honesty in the
neighbourhood, men and women on whose acts and promises we could rely.

For several years I took out work from Mr. Winyard, so that there was no
want of employment.  Here again I must build a pigsty by the roadside,
and it was soon inhabited, and by some thought to be too near the house,
but we received no harm among the boots and wax and other materials;
customers would talk and pigs would shriek the while, so that we were not
always silent and sorrowful.  The garden here contained several nice
fruit trees, but no pear tree, another drawback was there was no water to
the house, but we could have as much as we wanted by fetching it from
Mrs. Knights’s across the road, and we could catch some in rainy weather.
We purchased a shop stove, and made a hole through the brickwork into the
chimney, so that we could often live on that side when the other room was
smoky, we found the comfort of this as an impediment was removed.  In the
year 1840, I was appointed steward of an institution called the
“Pakefield Friendly Society,” the duties of which was to receive the
contributions of the members in my district, and also the applications
for membership, and bring them up to the monthly meetings held at
Lowestoft, on the first Tuesday evening of each month, from six to eight.

I was very successful in obtaining employment, worked closely, and began
to have what might be said to be a good connection, so much so that I
could not get through with it myself, and as customers’ patience began to
wear out I set on James Jacobs as journeyman.  My wife done a good part
in helping on with the uppers, so that we went fairly into business and
made long days of work.  About this time there was a poor woman in
Lowestoft, a Mrs. Parr, who was afflicted with insanity, and had become
sometimes violent and almost unmanageable, we were asked if we would take
the charge of her, and do our best to keep her from harm for a time, as
they were afraid lest she might do harm to herself or to some other
persons: my wife, after an interview with her medical attendant, Mr.
Worthington, came to the conclusion that she would make the trial.  The
terms were fixed for board and attendance, and the money was duly paid at
the house of Mr. B. Edmonds, a chemist, at Lowestoft.  She came as
arranged, my heart was overwhelmed to witness such a spectacle of human
infirmity, of one whom I had known and who always appeared to be so
cheerful and clever, but afflictions, though severe, are designed to
bring about the purposes of Infinite Wisdom and Love; neither my wife nor
myself rested much the first week: she sung, concocted rhymes and
comparisons, for three days and three nights without sleep, we were
supplied with a heavy chair for her use during the day, and an appliance
called a muff, to secure her hands during the time she was in bed,
otherwise she would have been gone when those in charge were taking a
little rest in sleep, we many times wished we had not taken her, but
being there she had to remain until other arrangements could be made.
Her friends visited her and appeared satisfied though sorrowful, and
after being with us one year, her friends arranged that she should be an
indoor-patient at St. Luke’s Hospital, an institution in London, for the
treatment of such cases; she was there for one year, and ultimately was
removed to Melton Asylum, her last earthly residence.

Now is coming on the construction of a new railroad from Lowestoft to
Reedham.  Great preparations are being made, materials, and men, and
horses, and implements, are deposited in the locality, besides temporary
dwellings for the overlookers and gangers; we in this neighbourhood never
having seen the like.  It was a marvellous undertaking, but day by day we
witnessed the skilful operations of the workmen, several of whom made
their place of rest with us during the time the work was in progress, my
wife cooking for them day by day, and otherwise preparing their food and
making their beds.

Mr. Denniss, having built the rectory house, the school, appointed
teachers, removed old buildings and various other things by way of
improvement in our parish, to him assigned.  In 1845, his effects were
sold by public auction, and the man and his family took their departure
after a brief stay of nine years.  He was succeeded by Chas. Henry Cox,
an earnest, solemn clergyman, whose aim was to “point us to brighter
worlds, and lead the way.”  He was the father of a large family, but his
gentle and kind christian bearing told powerfully upon the minds of the
people under his charge.

The dangerous operations of making the railroad was carried on, one of my
lodgers was killed while making the road.  I made a note of it at the
time of the occurrence, which is this: Inquest held at Mr. Beaumont’s,
Mutford Bridge, before J. E. Sparrowe, Esq., August 20th, 1846, on the
body of John Smith, my esteemed lodger, who was unfortunately killed by a
railroad waggon accidently passing over his body, on Tuesday, the 18th, a
sad and painful event to those who witnessed it.  In February of the
following year, my wife’s mother was taken suddenly ill, and after a few
hours expired, leaving a sorrowful family to mourn their loss, a
mysterious dispensation of Divine Providence, unfathomable to us
short-sighted mortals, but loudly speaking to all who have ears to hear,
“Arise, depart, for this is not your rest.”

I had now plenty of work for myself and journeyman, my work suited the
navvies as well as others, and I had also a good share of orders from the
master, Mr. Kershaw, who generally undertook to supply boots to those
that travelled with him, making railroads, according to the pattern worn
by the men on the work.  They also supplied slops, shirts, and caps, and
almost all articles of food, as also that important beverage strong beer,
for which they held an out-door licence, as those men were real guzzlers,
and when the end of the fortnight arrived, they had not much money to
take home to their lodgings.  They were evidently not a saving class of
men, and did not take much care about the salvation of their immortal
souls.  But that good philanthropist, Mr. Peto, the benefactor of
Lowestoft and its neighbourhood, engaged Mr. Johnson, as a sort of home
Missionary, to go amongst the people and speak a word of warning and of
counsel to them, and also to distribute interesting books among them,
which they could read or hear read at their lodgings.  This was a very
praiseworthy act of that generous man, who, although they could not
recompense him, yet he will be recompensed at the resurrection of the
just, for the which he is content to wait.  In course of time the
railroad was constructed to Reedham, to join the Yarmouth and Norwich
line, and thence passengers and cattle were conveyed to the Metropolis.

Mr. Cox, our rector, was very assidious in his visits among his
parishioners, and did as much as he could to ameliorate their condition,
notwithstanding the claims of home, so that his visits were generally
appreciated.  He used to be absent from his home a week in two months,
and it was said he had an engagement out, a duty to perform one Sunday in
a month.  On one of those outward distant attendances he was taken sick
and died, and never came here again, his body was buried at Great Marlow,
in Buckingham.  Here then the shepherd was suddenly separated from his
flock, the husband from the wife, and the father from his family, not
knowing why they are thus bereft of a friend, a guide, and a counsellor;
they are comforted to know that he is taken away in the midst of his
usefulness, and that his happy spirit has passed through the gates of the
New Jerusalem and joined the Church Triumphant above, where there are
joys for evermore.  Thus it pleases our Heavenly Father sometimes to
gather his children at a comparatively early age, while others, who have
a larger field of usefulness to occupy on earth, are detained from their
crown, until full of years and good works.  Each of these is then
gathered “as a shock of corn cometh in in his season,” and further, here
is the gracious assurance, “Even to your old age I am he, and even to
hoary hairs will I carry you; I have made and I will bear, even I will
carry and I will deliver you.”—_Isaiah_ xlvi. 4.

The “Pakefield Friendly Society” had continued to flourish under well
regulated management.  Annual statements were made, and circulated
amongst the members, the greatest number of whom is reported in 1855,
exactly thirty years from its formation, the number being 363 while its
highest amount of capital is reported in 1863, £4,964, and from that time
the fund was each successive year reported to be less, and in 1868, five
years later, was £4,288, £676 having been expended over its income, which
told very plainly the society was not in a solvent condition.  On the
11th day of June, 1850, several plots of building ground were offered for
sale by auction, Messrs. Norton and Reeve were vendor’s solicitors, I
bought two of those plots for the sum of £58, thinking perhaps I might
erect a dwelling thereon, as I had hitherto been glad to hire a cottage
for my use, but even in that matter I had been very fairly accommodated.
I now took an apprentice, John Crowther, that he might learn to make
boots, he was rather a sharp lad, and we got on together very fairly.
Early in 1851, another new rector, Mr. Hunter Francis Fell, came to our
parish, with four daughters, who very laudably acted as curates in taking
the oversight of the parish, and carrying on the infants’ and adults’
schools with commendable and praiseworthy efforts.

I was now busily engaged in preparing to build two cottages and a
workshop, having taken in 10,000 bricks the previous autumn that they
might be ready for spring work.  Mr. Saml. Neslen, of Lowestoft, was my
carpenter, and Mr. Thomas Swatman, Sen., my bricklayer, we went in for
building in good earnest, as something must be accomplished in the way of
building by the roadside near Mutford Bridge.  My wife’s youngest sister
was appointed to attend the school as governess, but it was soon found
her nerves were not sufficiently strong, her rest was broken, which
threatened to undermine her health, my wife was invited to attend for a
time, and see how her sister went on, she did not become at all strong,
and consequently my wife was permanently engaged as mistress of the
school, and I was engaged in superintending the building of cottages
destined to become our future residence.  This year was noted for the
great exhibition in Hyde Park, the world’s fair.  I had several
invitations to go to witness that large gathering, but my time and money
was required in other directions, thinking that building might be the
only one that I should have an opportunity of ever again being engaged in
on my own account.  The new rector soon felt at home in the parish, ready
to speak a healing word and perform a kind act, when he heard the voice
of sorrow from without, for he knew that “the sorry of the world worketh
death.”  He was desirous that his flock should “abound in every thing in
faith, utterance, knowledge, and in all diligence, and also in love.”

During the summer my cottages and shop were completed, I gave up my
former cottage and came to reside in one of them, which was light, and
bright, and airy, and I thought it a great mark of Divine favour that
this marvellous piece of work had been accomplished.  Now again more than
ever the boot trade engrossed my attention: I worked on, the trade did
not fail, it was said that machines were being invented which would do
the work quick, and hand work would be at a discount.  I was not troubled
at this.  I felt that my Heavenly Father had opened the way for me, and
that the same kindness and favour would be continued; my duly was clear
to be “diligent in business, fervent in spirit, serving the Lord.”  There
was enough work to employ me a whole year or more: gardens to be
arranged, fences to be removed, ground to be levelled and planted, walls
and outbuildings to be constructed, and altogether such a metamorphosis
as fixed me and others in wonderment as to how it all had been brought
about.  After having done as much as was necessary to the new places for
a time, and as there was no time for idleness, heads and hands must work
in earnest, while the eyesight is good.

Another lad now came to me to be instructed, John Mays: he suffered from
lameness in his hip, but his hands and eyes were free, and with those two
lads and a journeyman, we got through a good quantity of work.

Mr. Fell visited me and approved of my building and arrangements, he said
it was a very pleasant and open healthy neighbourhood, hoping it would be
appreciated by its owners, and good and lasting health enjoyed by its
attendants and tenants.

In 1837, I, with George Nobbs, were appointed constables of the parish:
the duties were to preserve order, to go to the public houses if sent
for, and to attend upon the coroner and summon the jurors in case of
inquests.

There were four inquests during my two years of service.  The first was
at the “Boar Inn,” Oulton, on the 25th of May, 1857, before J. K.
Sparrowe, Esq., coroner, on the body of Robt. Baldry, who was killed by
the wheel of a tumbril passing over his head.  The second was taken at
the “House of Industry,” on the 9th day of October, 1857, before B. L.
Gross, Esq., deputy-coroner, on the body of William Jinkerson, aged 47
years, who fell down and expired.  The third was taken at the “Wherry
Inn,” on the 14th day of November, 1857, before J. E. Sparrowe, Esq., on
the body of George Wade, who was drowned accidently during the thick
darkness of November 10th.  The fourth was taken at the house of Mr.
Thomas Roe Woods, on the 20th day of April, 1858, before J. E. Sparrowe,
Esq., on the body of William Mace, who was killed by the horn of a
bullock, which pierced the front of his head, on the premises of Mr.
Woods.

This year, 1858, the East Suffolk Railway was forwarded in good earnest,
the piles driven in the water to support the bridge were all driven by
the 31st of August, ready to bear its burden.  The bridge being done the
first load of earth passed over November 26th, the first engine passed
over on the 17th of December, first train of carriages passed over on the
25th of February, 1859, and was afterwards opened for public traffic as a
railway, on the 1st of June.

During this year Mr. Barnard built the chapel at the corner in Carlton
Colville, and it was opened on the 6th day of September for Divine
worship, the preachers were Mr. Alfred Bourne, in the afternoon, and Mr.
John Alexander, in the evening, who choose for his text on that occasion
_Matthew_ vii, 7, 8, in which the venerable man exhorted his hearers,
that having obtained this house of prayer, there were still other
blessings they needed that they might grow in grace and in the knowledge
of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.  He also enlarged on the privileges
brought by the gospel, a great festival—“Redemption by the blood of
Christ.”  This is the one grand blessing which comprehends all other
blessings.  The table is always spread, the company are always welcome,
the season is always pleasant, and the joy is always new, we were to pray
for a spiritual appetite that we might enjoy this feast, be fed
continually with the bread of life, and drink of the wine of heavenly
consolation, no longer to entertain an appetite for the vanities of the
world, but that with the Psalmist have the Lord for our Shepherd, leading
us by green pastures and still waters, that we may rise to sit at that
table, which is for ever spread in heaven.

The new chapel services were appreciated, a goodly number attended each
Sabbath from the Oulton side of the bridge, as also in the Carlton
district, where the chapel was erected, the churches, in those respective
parishes being a long distance from thence.  The residents of the
locality having taken counsel together resolved to present a testimonial
to Mr. Barnard, for the great kindness he had conferred, and on Wednesday
evening, the 4th January, 1860, a large assembly, including several
friends from Lowestoft, met at the chapel, and presented that gentleman
with “Dr. Kittos Commentory on the Bible,” together with a handsome table
lamp, hoping that himself and Mrs. Barnard might be spared many years to
investigate its sacred truths, which some of us, who were present on that
interesting occasion, feel assured has been realised, for although more
than twenty years have rolled away, and some who worshipped with us in
that place are gone to their rest, yet the founder and Mrs. B. survives,
and the chapel services are being continued, and we hope also by many
enjoyed, knowing the Great Master’s service is perfect freedom.

May 28th was the severest gale in this season ever remembered: Four
mackerel boats were missing from Lowestoft with all their crews, and also
two cutters (carriers).  As the 18th of June arrived, all hope was
abandoned.  Six from our town, boats and cutters, and eleven from
Yarmouth and Gorleston, with a loss of about 200 hands!  Nine of them
belonged to the parish of Oulton.  The evening of the 21st October, was
very remarkable for changes.  In the short space of two hours we had
thunder, lightning, rain, hail, snow, wind, and frost, accomplished by an
Almighty power.  An aged and sincere friend, who had preached to us many
times in Mr. Barnard’s chapel, whom we called “Captain Ducker,” was
called to his rest January 20th, 1861, aged 70 years.  His last service
with us was on the evening of Sunday, December 23rd of the preceding
year.  And it might be truly said of him, as was recorded of
Barnabas:—“He was a good man, and full of the Holy Ghost and of faith,”
rejoicing to see believers added to the Lord, and walking in fellowship,
as children of a King.

Another solemn event took place in our parish.  Mr. Fell, rector of
Oulton, died at Worldham, Hants, on Sunday, November 10, aged 71 years,
having held the living from 1851.  Here, then, we see merciful men taken
away; and, when rightly considered, they are taken from the evil to come.
My wife had conducted the school through the late rector’s incumbency,
and is still going on with the same.  The Prince Consort died on the 14th
of December, and was buried on the 23rd of the same month.  Thus:

    God moves in a mysterious way,
       His wonders to perform.

“His ways are past finding out.”  “Lord, make me to know the measure of
my days, that I may know how frail I am,” and, further, that I may be
prepared for that great and solemn change, which I feel sure must soon
arrive.

In January, 1862, Mr. Charles Snell was presented to the living at
Oulton, vacant by the death of Mr. Fell.  He comes into residence, and
finds out the relative position of his parishioners, the domestic
comforts of some, and the troubles and mishaps, and cares and sorrows of
others, all needing a word of counsel, as also a word of consolation, and
thus they are supported amidst the trials and conflicts of this mortal
life, which are almost continually pressing upon them.  Here, then, the
good man is inducted into the living.

    He asks the aid of heavenly power,
    To guard him in the evil hour.

And resolves to warn and teach, according to the standard of divine
truth, and resolved to exemplify the bearing of a Christian minister, by
the grace of God.  To show unequivocally and impressively that “all have
sinned and come short of the glory of God,” and then comes free
justification by His grace, through the redemption that is in Christ
Jesus.  He takes his safe stand upon this doctrine, and affirms that it
is “God who hath set forth Jesus Christ to be a propitiation, through
faith in His blood, to declare His righteousness for the remission of
sins, that are past through the forbearance of God.”  And should he be
asked, “Is the blood of Christ sufficient to atone for the whole world?”
he replies, “Quite so; but only _efficient_ to save those who being
justified by faith, enjoy also peace with God, through our Lord Jesus
Christ.”  And, as the apostle Paul asserts, in his fifth chapter of
Romans:—“By whom we have now received the atonement.”  Truly, this is the
comfort wherewith we desire to be always comforted.

Mr. Dovey, the Baptist minister at Lowestoft, preached his first sermon
in that town in December, 1844, and continued his ministrations for
seventeen years.  His last sermon, as pastor was delivered February 23rd,
1862.  Mr. Aldis, his successor, came to Lowestoft in the same year.  Mr.
G. S. Crisp died on the 30th May, 1863, at the age of 79 years.  This
good man was for many years a preacher of the gospel at the
Congregational Chapel, at Lowestoft, and for many years came and preached
the word of life at Carlton Colville, and was so engaged at the time the
new chapel was built, although soon afterwards called to put off the clay
tabernacle, and enter into his rest, of which he had long been seeking
and preaching in days that were past.  Here, then, the gospel has been
preached; sinners have been warned and invited; Jesus Christ hath been
set forth as a willing Saviour.  But, alas!  There are so many who think
the gospel is so far beneath their attention they cannot understand how
it pleases God, by the foolishness of preaching, to save them that
believe.  They refuse to believe that the gospel is of God, and that they
are bound to receive it, and must not cavil or raise objections.  It is
for the acceptance of all who possess any views worth having, and those
who still continue to neglect this great salvation will in the end find
that it will grind them to powder.  Such was the sad experience of that
infatuated and misguided wretch who on the 14th April of this year fell
by the hand of the executioner, at Ipswich, for the murder of Ebenezer
Tye, at Halesworth.

Having now commenced the fifth year of the chapel services at Carlton, it
is suggested that a testimonial be presented to Mr. Hinde, expressive of
the appreciation of the attendance as to the spiritual services supplied
by that gentleman, and ably conducted by him in that House of Prayer.  On
the evening of Friday, the 15th of January, 1866, a handsome writing
cabinet was presented to Mr. Hinde, at the chapel, a large gathering
having met on that interesting occasion.  I do not exactly remember if
the number of services were announced that Mr. Hinde had conducted, but
it shall be recorded here with gladness:—During the first year 31
services; second year 51; third year, 46; fourth, 56; and to January
15th, 17; then to the end of the fifth year, 39, making again 56; and
these numbers are all exclusive of week evening services, and afterwards
they were successfully continued, and we believe are so still.  But
before I quite take leave of my Carlton friends, I am reminded that there
was another earnest and devoted servant of God, a veteran in the Master’s
service, and who usually shared each service with his friend, Captain
Ducker—I allude now to Mr. Delf, of Lowestoft, who is also gone to his
rest.  Their last united service was on the evening of November 4th,
1860.  We admired the vigilance of the two good and faithful evangelists,
who desired to be found instant in season—yea! and out of season!—so that
they might finish their course with joy, and serving their generation, by
the will of God, entered into rest.

There is just one other incident I cannot pass over in connection with
Carlton Chapel.  The friends, organised a series of special services,
called “Revival Meetings,” in which the writer took part.  They were
seasons of refreshing from the presence of the Lord.  The first was held
on the evening of March 18th, 1861; the second, March 20th; the third,
March 25th; the fourth, March 26th; the fifth, April 3rd: the sixth,
April 12th; the seventh, April 17th; the eighth, April 24th, and the last
of those services was performed on the evening of the 1st May—happy
sacred seasons, and were by some long remembered, and thanking the
friends who came to Carlton, I will now take my leave.

Again, as I remember to have taken leave of the Vicar of Lowestoft—Mr.
Cunningham—who always took a lively interest in the Pakefield Friendly
Society, of which I was still agent, under Mr. Henry Seppings, as
secretary, having served under two secretaries previously, who had been
removed from the office.  There were generally those present at our
meetings who were pleased to witness the good man’s smiles, and to hear a
few courteous words in furtherance of the well being of the society,
which were always well received.  I will here insert the inscription on
his tomb:

                           SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF
                             FRANCIS CUNNINGHAM,
        42 Years Rector of Pakefield, and from 1830 till within a few
                   months of his death, Vicar of Lowestoft,
                 Born July 27th, 1785; Died August 8th, 1863,
                                Aged 78 Years.

I will now close my observations for the present year, by stating the
harvest home festival was celebrated on the 3rd of September.

“The way of the Lord is in the sea, His paths are in great waters, and
His footsteps are not known.”  “He bloweth with His wind, and the waters
flow.”  We have recently witnessed some terrific gales—November, 1864.
Six steamboats have put into Lowestoft harbour with a great number of
dead cattle on board.  The judgments of the Lord are a great deep, who
can understand?  Many scenes of affliction, disappointment, sorrow, and
death beset our path.  Martha Bone, of Ryburgh, Norfolk—my wife’s eldest
sister—suddenly called away by death, reminding us again to prepare with
all earnestness, for “Behold! the Judge standeth at the door.”  May the
Lord, in His mercy, give us grace to be so prepared.

I have now before me a charge to a Dissenting minister jotted down:

    1.—Preach Christ crucified, and dwell chiefly on the blessings
    resulting from His righteousness, atonement, and intercession.

    2.—Avoid all needless controversies in the pulpit, except it be when
    your subject necessarily requires it, or when the truths of God are
    likely to suffer by your silence.

    3.—When you ascend the pulpit, leave your learning behind you, if you
    wish to preach more to the hearts of your people than to their heads.

    4.—Do not affect too much oratory.  Seek rather to profit than to be
    admired—a timely, wholesome, affectionate, and salutary charge.

The Sabbath Schools Union festival was celebrated on Mr. Crabbbe’s lawn,
on Tuesday, August 16th, 1864.  The harvest was begun about a week
before.

After a lapse of nearly four years, Mr. Samuel Abbott, of Lowestoft, is
again invited to take part in the good work at Carlton Chapel.

The foundation-stone of the new chapel at Mutford Bridge was publicly
laid on the 30th day of May, 1865, by Mr. Chew, of Norwich.  There was at
the time a strong cold wind, blowing from the west, yet a good number of
friends were present on the occasion.  On the 28th June died Martha, the
wife of John Bullard.  During the latter years of her life, she walked in
the ways of the Lord.  Her conversion was considered to be brought about
by the revival and other religious services at Carlton Chapel.

The Oulton Chapel (Mutford Bridge) was opened for public worship on
Tuesday, the 12th of September.  Mr. Miller preached in the afternoon;
then afterwards a public tea in the chapel was held, and addresses given
in the evening.  The services at this house of prayer are still
continued, and many have found them “times of refreshing from the
presence of the Lord.”

An inquest was held at the “Wherry” Inn, on the 25th August, before F. B.
Marriott, Esq., on the body of William Codling, aged 16 years, who was
drowned by the upsetting of a boat in Oulton Dyke, on Tuesday, August
22nd, 1865.  Here are again some of the joys and sorrows that beset and
bestrew our pathway.  A company of young lads think themselves competent
to manage a sailing boat, but coming home at night the boat upset, its
occupants were immersed in the water, and one of the party drowned.

Among the events noted down of this year, 1866, the death of Ann Challis,
my wife’s youngest sister took place.  She had been afflicted for several
years, and died on the evening of the 22nd January.  On the same evening,
Charles Cutler was accidently drowned in Oulton Broad, he having kept the
beer-house at Carlton, near Mr. Bullard’s shop several years.  Their
bodies were buried on Sunday, January 28th—my sister in law, at Oulton,
and Mr. Cutler at Carlton Colville, and on the 31st of December of the
same year, died Elizabeth, his wife, so that in their deaths they were
not long divided.

Mr. John Burton, of Lowestoft, fell down his stairs on the night of
Sunday, August 19th, and was so fearfully injured that he died within ten
hours afterwards.

    Dangers stand thick through all our paths,
          To push us to the tomb.

The harvest of this year was generally begun on the 13th of August, and
it was rather showery during the remainder of the month, yet we had some
bright days, so that the wheat was secured in good condition, but it was
very wet during the month of September.  Wednesday, the 5th, was the only
day in that week suitable for barley carting, and then it rained at six
o’clock in the evening.  Thursday, 13th, was the next fine day; men were
employed in lifting and preparing the corn for carting, only to be
followed by a heavy rain next morning, so that the only day in that week
for carting was Saturday, and then it again rained by six o’clock in the
evening.  Patience and prayers are needed.

The harvest-home festival was unusually late, owing to the unfavourable
state of the weather.  The corn could not be carried before Thursday,
September 27th, yet there is still great cause for thanks that the corn
is secured, that provision is made for our returning winter, and that our
Heavenly Father is good and merciful still, although we are so prone to
murmur.

January, 1867, arrives with its abundance of frost and immense blocks of
drifting snow.  Two or three of my old neighbours are removed by death in
quick succession—Archer Beales, the elder, on January 5th, aged 74; the
wife of Robert Newbury was called home, January 12th; and John Cox, my
wife’s father, died on the 19th January, aged 76 years, and buried on
Sunday, 27th, having lived a widower 19 years and 11 months.  Thus Death
is commissioned to remove us, from the Prince Consort, in the palace, to
the peasant in his humble cot.  At this time, also, is stricken down my
old neighbour and friend, George Mobbs, a man of strict integrity, who
served with me in the office of parish constable, having removed to
Mutford, and, after having lived there five months, died, and was brought
to Oulton, and buried on Sunday, the 10th March.  Then, again, at
Lowestoft, Sergeant Hargraves, drill-instructor, is walking out on Sunday
evening, the 5th May, when he was suddenly taken ill and died, at the age
of 41 years, calling to us, who are survivors of these painful events,
that the ways of Jehovah are far above our finite and limited conception.

A sad event occurred in the spring of this year by the upsetting of a
boat on Oulton Broad.  On Good Friday, April 10th, 1868, a party of three
young men engaged a boat, that they might amuse themselves upon the
water.  The wind on that day became strong, and, themselves unskilful in
managing it, very soon overturned, and all were immersed in the water,
two of them—James Ellis Fisk and John Knights—both aged 18, were drowned.
It was a sad spectacle the jury were called to view, as they were laid
side by side, prepared for burial.  Their life had vanished as a dream,
when one awaketh.

My two new cottages were built this year; they were begun on Thursday,
the 5th March, and in due time were completed.  This was a remarkably hot
and dry summer, as by a note to hand:

    There has been a very long drought, June passing almost without rain.
    A little fell on the 2nd., and now we are arrived at the 17th of
    July, and on this day it has pleased God, in His mercy, to command
    the rain to descend in abundance, with a sharp tempest, the two
    previous days having been very hot.

The harvest was generally begun on the 24th of July, and at Mr. Barnard’s
farm, at Carlton, the whole of the corn was gathered in by the 30th of
that month, and the harvest-home festival celebrated at Oulton, on the
20th August.

My wife’s only brother, who had been suffering from consumption for a
long time, died October 8th at Lowestoft, aged 46 years, leaving a widow
and four children to mourn their bereavement.  We took the second boy
under our charge, and kept him seven years.  During that interval, his
two brothers had died, and only him and his sister was left.  Edmund
Challis, my wife’s sister’s husband, was killed by a loaded carriage
passing over his body on the 17th of February, 1869, surviving his first
wife only three years.  We know not what a day may bring forth.  I
happened to meet that poor man coming from Lowestoft with the loaded
wagon, and he was then riding, not thinking that would be the last time
that I should see him, but it proved to be so, and he is gone.  There is
a piece of ground adjoining my garden, containing about 40 perches, and
belonging to Mr. Knights.  That gentleman was willing to treat with me as
to the purchase of the same, and we agreeing, I became the purchaser
thereof for £45, and had the pump put down thereon in the month of May,
having found, and still continuing to find a good supply of pure
water—thanks to the Giver of all good.  It is delightful to live and walk
in the shining of God’s countenance; but to die in the light and
consolation of his presence is the crowning mercy of all.  How gracious
is the Holy Spirit of Promise to shine away the doubts and fears of His
people, and put them to bed by daylight!  O, may it be more and more my
privilege to taste the sweetness of His love, rise into a nearer
conformity to His image; enjoy closer communion with Him, and experience
an increasing sense of his never-failing faithfulness, and catch a
glimpse of that page in the Book of Life, whereon is written my unworthy
name.

The year of 1870 brings with it many incidents peculiar to our position.
“Man walketh in a vain shadow.”  On February 7th, Mr. Robert Morris, a
chemist at Lowestoft, and one, who when young, attended at the same
school with myself (Mr. Goodwin’s, at Laxfield) died at the age of 59.
Thus my old schoolfellows are receding from view.  I know not now where
to find half a dozen.  O, let me be thankful for the mercies bestowed
upon me.  We had very little rain from the first Monday in May to the
last Saturday in June.  My old neighbour, John Adams, who had served his
generation, by the will of God, fell asleep on the 14th day of July, and
was gathered to his rest at the age of 85 years.  The harvest was
generally begun on the 12th August, but the weather was very fickle.  A
thunderstorm came on the night of Thursday, 18th, and from that time to
the end of the following week, we had rain every day, and on Sunday,
28th, as much rain fell as had fallen during the week previous, so that
rain continued, with slight intermission for 12 days, and harvest was
scarcely concluded by September 8th, the celebration of the harvest-home
of that year.

An inquest was held at the Wherry Inn, on the 23rd day of August, before
Dr. Pearson, on the body of James Gibbs, aged 12 years, who was drowned
by the breaking of a hook rope on board a wherry, sailing on Oulton
Broad, on Saturday, August 20th.  This was but a short course, from the
cradle to the grave, from suffering and from sin, for ever emancipated.
“Teach me, O Lord, the way of Thy statutes, and make me keep it unto the
end, and by Thy grace cause me to finish the work thou hast given me to
do.”

Mr. Edward Leathes, of Normanstone, was called away by death on the 11th
February, 1871—the day after a great snowstorm—aged 75.

Having secured the piece of ground before-mentioned, and settled all
demands for the same, in which my wife concurred, and assisted, and
having made and executed a will, making everything that I possessed over
to her for her own use, benefit, and enjoyment, the same being duly
attested by Henry Bull and his wife, matters having been thus
satisfactorily arranged, I afterwards suggested to my wife, in sincere
fidelity, that if she could and would supply twenty pounds, I would do
the rest, and build thereon a nice cottage, and she should have the full
power to do with it as to choosing her own tenants, and other matters in
connection therewith, as long as she should live.  My proposal was
indignantly rejected, the motive was grieviously maligned and aspersed.
I drove on heavily, as if my wheels were impeded.  Nevertheless I
borrowed £25 of a friend, and built a cottage, and let it to a tenant for
a time, and the scene here changes.

An inquest was held at the Wherry Inn, on the 15th August, before Dr.
Pearson, deputy-coroner, on the body of George Copsey Nelson who was
drowned while bathing in Oulton Broad on Sunday, August 13th.  There is
something very striking in connection with this inquest.  One of the
jurors—Horace Martin—as now investigating a case of drowning, was himself
drowned in the same piece of water before 12 months had passed away.

I have stated that £25 were borrowed from a friend.  I never had anything
to do in connection with loan societies.  I remember to have heard an
observation from our late County Court Judge: “I wonder,” said he, “the
people can be so gulled; no sooner do you fail in paying the instalments,
for which you have contracted, when down comes the office upon the
sureties, and if the money is not forthcoming, your property is seized,
and get out of it as you can, no matter how.”

I will note down here the speedy departure of a few of my female
neighbours:—Mrs. James Knights died March 6th; Mrs. William Jacobs died
March 27th; Mrs. John Drake died May 24th; Mrs. John Knights died June 2;
Mrs. Nursey, “Boar” Inn, died July 10th; Mrs. Stevens died July 21st,
aged 56.  The above were all taken from us in 1871, with many others.

Another inquest was held at the “Wherry” Inn, on the 27th day of July,
1872, before Mr. F. B. Marriott, coroner, on the body of Horace Martin,
who was accidently drowned by falling from his yacht, on the 25th.  How
soon the scene changes.  A few days before all was anticipated—happiness
and pleasure, the charms and attractions of the smooth lake, swiftly
gliding along in his frail skiff, unconscious of the swiftness of time,
and the sadness which not unfrequently terminates this mortal life, and
then those precious opportunities which have been so often disregarded
and wasted, are gone for ever.  The above afflictive bereavement was too
great to be supported by the widow.  She also died during the following
year.  “Watch, for ye know not when the time is.”

The public auction of Mr. Townsend’s effects came off on the 2nd of
January, 1873, that gentleman having died a month previous, November
30th.  Mr. Thomas Goff, my old master of harvest, died three weeks later,
December 20th.

Again the Coroner held an inquest at the same inn.  This time it was on
the body of Joseph Knights son of William Goldsmith, who was accidentally
drowned the previous day from a boat on Oulton Broad.

By reason of some cross shooting, that have to a certain extent
prevailed, since the cottage was erected, I felt resolved to dispose of
the first built ones—the six by the road, with the little one at the back
with the gardens, retaining the last purchase and cottage thereon, to be
for the benefit of my wife, in the event of her being the survivor, she
should not be left destitute.  I submitted my burden first to the Lord,
from whom I sought direction.  I weighed and pondered over it again and
again.  Then I resolved to consult Mr. Chater, a solicitor at Lowestoft,
as to the expediency of a sale, or an annuity, and which of the two would
be most preferable.  As it was not prudent to proceed in too much haste,
that gentleman required a week for consideration of the matter, and then
at the expiration of that time the same subject could be renewed.  During
the interval, I made known to my wife what was in contemplation.  It was
treated very tamely, as being viewed by one taking a casual glance from a
distant standpoint, as if the near approach and investigation was far
beneath the attention of one who could for the time being stand aloof,
ready to command an immediate surrender, when, as then thought the proper
time had arrived, or should do so.  Eventually, at my next interview with
Mr. Chater, proposals were made as to taking the property off my hands,
which were by me accepted.  And, although for the last few years,
property of that description have risen in value in the neighbourhood, of
that I am glad.  Yet representations have gone forth which have tended to
work prejudice and mischief.  I am willing to bend to all these
drawbacks, and at present have never had the least cause to regret, but
am thankful.  This, then, I take to be one of the roads opened to me to
walk therein, and in so walking cannot I see the good hand of my God, for
good, for tranquility, after the bustle and perplexity and cares of
business in obtaining my daily bread; and permitted, also, at times to
partake of that bread which endureth unto eternal life.  Here, then, is
the comfort in finding the passage to the grave not only smoother, but
the mind more comforted, being drawn off from worldly cares and
attractions, and, while so favoured, I can think of my fallen condition,
my original depravity from which there is no deliverance, except by the
free grace of the Father, and the imputed righteousness of a sacrificed
Redeemer.  This leads me to prize the bloodshedding, the obedience, and
intercession of the Lord Jesus Christ, the second Adam, the Lord from
heaven, who has come to repair the ruins of the first, and to insist that
“except a man be born again he cannot see the kingdom of God.”

An inquest was held on Saturday, the 6th day of June, 1874, before F. B.
Marriott, Esq., at the late residence of Charles Goldsmith, who had
hanged himself in his barn the preceding day.

I am now thinking of relinquishing my business as a boot and shoemaker,
but not in the manner that poor miserable creature has done, who is
mentioned above.  I never felt envious at that kind of prosperity with
which he was encompassed, but am preserved and defended even from my
youth up, so that I can boldly say the Lord is my helper, and He is my
strong defence, and I trust will be so even to the end of my course,
which cannot be far distant, but soberness and vigilance are still
needful lest the enemy of our souls obtain advantage.  I need not indulge
in idleness—a good deal of labour is required to bring my newly acquired
ground into cultivation.  Here is the fence to be planted, a living fence
inside, and a wain fence of nine inches outside, which space I have a
right to claim.  This, of which I am now speaking, is the westernmost
fence, and is getting up nicely.  Then there were also barrows full of
dandelions to extirminate, and the grass to bury deeply; the potatoes to
plant and mould up that they might be productive, and many other kinds of
garden work to perform, all in keeping with a healthful and, to some
extent, remunerative occupation: and thus the time glided on.

I have not much to record this year (1875) although many mercies have
been accorded to me, a good state of health, and privileged to have
intercourse with friends, some of them being at a great distance, and
very probably shall behold them no more in the flesh, yet we are
privileged to serve the same God, “one God and Father of all,” ever ready
to hear petitions and grant requests.  There has lately been some
irregularities practised by two of the members of the Pakefield Friendly
Society in my district.  An enquiry was set on foot, the charge made
against them was proved, and the consequence was that they were both
expelled, and all monies heretofore paid were forfeited to the use of the
Society.

Old neighbour Sarah Bales died on the 17th January, having survived her
husband eight years.  The good Lord grant us pardon for our offences, for
we lift up our souls unto Thee.  Cast us not away from Thy presence, take
not Thy holy spirit from us, but direct our hearts into Thy love, and our
feet in the way of thy testimonies.  Whether we eat or drink, or
whatsoever we do, may we do all to the glory of God, and walk as seeing
Him that is invisible, and may God be the strength of my heart, the guide
of my goings, and my portion for ever and ever, amen.

Another inquest was held by the same coroner, on the 15th May, 1875, on
the body of James Paston, who was accidentally drowned in Oulton Dyke,
from off his wherry, the preceding day.  “Ye know not when the time is.”

There is no doubt but that every believer has his winter seasons of
providential afflictions and of spiritual distress.  Yet if the God of
love is ever peculiarly near to his people for good, it is when His
arrows stick fast in them, and when His hand presseth them sore, and at
the time appointed their consolations return as the clear shining after
rain, and theirs is as the sun when it goeth forth in its might, the
flowers appear on the earth, the time of the singing of the birds has
come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land—the peace of God.

The next inquest took place on Friday, the 20th day of August, at the
“Lady of the Lake” Hotel, before Mr. William Ebden, deputy-coroner, on
the body of Charles Everitt, aged eleven years, who was accidentally
drowned by the capsizing of a sailing boat on Oulton Broad, on the
afternoon of Wednesday, August 18th, 1875.  How frail the youth, how
short the date.

As I have but little to record as regards my own experience during this
year (1876), I sit down and ponder over a paragraph of Dr. Dick’s
Celestial Scenery.  He says:—“There is no contrivance in the system more
wonderful than the rings of Saturn.  That these rings should be separated
thirty thousand miles from the body of the planet, that they should,
notwithstanding, accompany the planet in its revolution round the sun,
preserving invariably the same distance from it, that they should revolve
round the planet every ten hours at the immense velocity of more than a
thousand miles in a minute, and that they should never fly off to the
distant regions of space, nor fall down upon the planet, are
circumstances which required adjustments far mere intricate and exquisite
than we can conceive, and demonstrate that the Almighty Contriver of that
stupendous Appendage to the globe of Saturn is ‘great in counsel and
mighty in operation.’  Yet these adjustments, in whatever they may
consist, have been completely effected.  For this planet has been flying
through the regions of space in a regular curve for thousands of years,
and the system of its satellites and rings still remains as at its first
creation.”

Mr. George Cox, the last of my wife’s uncles, died at Lowestoft on the
9th day of April, 1877, aged 71 years, having survived his wife eleven
years and five months: “they desired a better country.”  The memory of
the mother and father is sweet to surviving children, and we will tread
softly on their graves.  The first that was called away experienced
severe affliction for many years, but patiently endured to the end of her
course.  “If ye endure chastening God dealeth with you as with
sons.”—_Hebrews_ xii, 7.

Of the father, it might be said when the appointed time had arrived, the
summons was executed more speedily.  After only three days severe
illness, although favoured with consciousness even to the last.  On the
morning of that day, April 9th, he made this observation to his daughter.
“My dear I’m going to leave you, but Christ will be with you.”  During
the day a dear friend came in, and in conversation suggested, “Mr. Cox
the pearly gates are ajar for you,” he smilingly replied, “not ajar, they
stand wide open”; then singing “There are Angels hovering round,” and
“Rock of Ages cleft for me” _for me_.  Again he said to his beloved
daughter, “My dear this is victory over death: I am passing over the
river dry shod, my end is peace, Jesus hath wiped away all tears.”  Then
urging all to love Jesus and meet him in heaven, he requested all present
to kneel in earnest and humble prayer around his bed, and afterwards
raising his hands calmly replied “_I am coming_, _I am coming_,” and his
happy spirit took its flight to be for ever with the Lord.  “Wherefore
comfort one another with these words.”

Charles Flaxman, another of my old neighbours, died at Lowestoft on the
above date, April 9th, 1877.  And also yet another taken in the same
week, Mrs. Sarah Morris (late Suggate,) fell down the stairs in her
house, and was afterwards found quite dead.  But the most joyous
testimony is, they all died in the faith, and through that grace having
obtained a good report, have now entered into possession of what they
here held in reversion, a promise of the life to come.  The children of
God have sometimes comfortable anticipations of the glory that shall be
revealed when faith pierces within the veil, whither Jesus our forerunner
is gone before, and as in the language of the spies of old, “We have seen
the land and behold it is very good, when shall we go up and take
possession.”  “When shall we get through the desert.”

Mr. John Knights, of whom I had bought my piece of land, died December
2nd, 1877.

When shall we receive the end of our faith, even the full salvation of
our souls?  How long, O Lord, holy and true? why tarry the wheels of thy
chariot? return unto thy rest, O my soul, the Lord deals bountifully.

Inquest held at the “Lady of the Lake” Inn, on the body of Emily
Charlotte, daughter of William Scarll, aged 5 years, who was mortally
injured by the wheel of a cart passing over her body, on the 12th of
August, 1878, during a sharp thunderstorm, she died on the 18th, and the
inquest was held on the 20th, before C. W. Chaston, Esq., coroner.  The
parents are sorrowful.

    “When virtuous sorrow clouds the face,
       And tears bedim the eye;
    The soul is led to solemn thought,
       And wafted to the sky.”

The new board school was opened May 27th of this year, Mr. Gray, master.

James Knights, the elder, died the latter end of May.  His son John died
on the 2nd of August, aged 56 years; he had been for many weeks
afflicted.  My good old neighbour, Mrs. Phebe Adams, died at Yarmouth, at
the house of her younger son Alfred, on the 16th of October, aged 86
years (this was the fortieth anniversary of my marriage).  She was
brought to Oulton and laid beside her husband who had died eight years
earlier.  Mr. Woolterton (called Dr.) had resided here about twenty
years, and departed this life on the 17th of October, aged 32 years, and
was buried at Oulton.  Two more of my neighbours are called away: David
Bullen, on the 15th of August, 1879, aged 82 years, after a long
affliction; and also Mrs. High, on the 21st of August, also after years
of suffering, aged 78 years.  “Thou turnest man to destruction, again
thou sayest come again ye children of men.”

During the autumn of the past year Mr. Robertson and his tenant built
sheds and piggeries adjoining my dwelling.  I stated my disapproval
thereof, and requested that a course of bricks should be put up, as
nothing short of that would keep me quiet, as rats from his side had
found their way under the floor of my bedroom.  He did not meet my views,
and I thereupon told Mr. Robertson I should take down my wall and it
would be placed twenty-one inches from his line of boundary; and so it
came to pass for on the 29th of April, 1879, I proceeded to take down the
wall and built another more substantial, and now the rats are kept back
from troubling on my side, and having raised my roof and made chambers
over, I have not regretted the inflexibility of my neighbour, for
although he has fixed boarding to intercept my view on that side, yet
there is plenty of light and air from the other, and the additional
conveniences more than compensate for the outlay, and thus we see working
for good many things that at a first glance wears a very unfavourable
aspect.  My dear wife has fallen into a state of affliction, and is being
attended by Mr. Smith, of Carlton.  She is able to get about, but almost
shattered by a dreadful wrecking cough, her niece came to attend upon
her, but it soon became evident that her end was approaching as the
medicines and applications had but little effect.  Early on Sunday
morning the 3rd of August, a dreadful thunderstorm came on; being greatly
alarmed I sprang up in sleep and asked the poor sufferer what was it that
had fallen down, she replied that nothing had fallen but that it was a
sharp tempest.  It proved to be indeed severe, the Church at Wells, in
Norfolk, was struck and wrecked at the same time.  She lived exactly four
weeks after that event, lingering on until the morning of Sunday, the
31st of August, at half-past four o’clock, when she breathed her last,
having been married forty years and ten months, twenty-seven years of
which she had been mistress of the village school, which office she
relinquished when the newly-established board school came into operation,
in May of the preceding year.  Another of my neighbours, Hannah Patrick,
died suddenly two days after my wife, her husband, William, surviving her
about six months, when he also died and was brought from London and
buried.  On the 6th of January, 1880, two other of my aged neighbours
were called away: Richard Rowe, many years station master here, and John
Pinkney who lived and died near the church, where his body now rests.
Another visitation befel the town of Wells, a terrible gale occurred on
the 29th of October, the lifeboat had gone off to the attempted rescue of
a vessel in distress, that boat capsized and nearly all its occupants
were drowned, beside a great many others who were cut off by the violence
of the storm, among the latter was one whom we called Captain Hiles, whom
I had many times met in the house of prayer, when he was ashore, and on
the last Sabbath of his life was engaged in exhorting sinners and warning
them to fly to Jesus for pardon and salvation.

The few weeks with which the past year closed were remarkably mild, and
sometimes pleasant gentleness marked the passing year.  The year 1881 was
ushered in mild, and we were beginning to think that the time for sharp
weather was getting past for the season, when lo! on the 18th of January,
a violent gale from the east with almost blinding snow set in during the
evening, the intensity of the frost was almost unparalleled, almost to
freeze the blood in the veins of those who were exposed to its fury.
Deplorable was the destruction and loss of life on the Eastern coast; at
Yarmouth the lifeboat was capsized, and nearly all her brave men drowned,
together with a shipwrecked sailor whom they had taken off from a
stranded vessel.  The visitation will be long and sorrowfully remembered
by the inhabitants of Yarmouth and its vicinity.  Before the month had
passed away and while many embankments of snow continued even after the
thaw had set in, another of my neighbours, George Bullen, the eldest son
of David, is called to his rest, on the 26th of January.  He had been
many months afflicted, and during his long illness many prayers were
offered to the Lord on his behalf, that he might obtain pardon and peace
and lively hope through our Lord Jesus Christ, which we believe was
realized.

During the second month of this year, 1881, the elder Mrs. Wright who had
resided in Oulton more than thirty years, died on the 13th of February,
at the advanced age of 86 years.  During the third month of this year,
the elder Mrs. Susan Farman died, on the 9th day of March, aged 79 years,
having resided in Oulton fifty years.  “The Lord’s portion is his
people.”

During the fourth month another of my elder neighbours was called away,
Francis Harper, having resided in Oulton about forty years, a quiet,
good, honest, and honourable man; served his generation by the will of
God, fell on sleep March the 15th.  Another neighbour, Mrs. Elizabeth
Reynolds, wife of Thomas, who with her husband were the only unbroken
pair that were living as paired when I was married, all the other pairs
were broken or swept away.  Mrs. Reynolds died on the 2nd of April, aged
76 years.

Next, here is a record of an honourable marriage, which is worthy of
note, April 7th, at the Congregational Chapel, Beccles, by the Pastor, J.
Calvert, assisted by S. B. Driver, pastor of the Congregational Chapel,
Lowestoft, Mr. M. Hinde, of Lowestoft, to Louisa, daughter of the late
James Read, farmer and valuer of Laxfield, Suffolk.

The Earl of Beaconsfield, a distinguished statesman, who had filled the
high and honourable office of Prime Minister of England, and confidential
adviser of Her Majesty, died in London, April 19th, at the age of 75
years, a large profusion of flowers being dropt upon his tomb.




Appendix.


IN the year 1877, the Pakefield Friendly Society came to an end, having
fought its way fifty-two years, and having survived the Vicar of
Lowestoft fourteen years.  Mr. Cunningham had from the first taken a deep
interest in that institution, and greatly contributed to its prosperity.

I was proposed and accepted as one of its stewards in 1840, and continued
to serve the office until its dissolution (37 years), the funds then
being distributed among the members in sums ranging from £2 12s. 8d., to
£20 13s. 8d., about 155 members partaking of this final benefit, although
I am not sure they were all satisfied, yet the various awards were
carried out very fair and impartially.  As to myself I received a present
from the directors, through Mr. Seppings, the secretary and that
Gentleman also made me a money present.  I resolved therewith to buy some
books in remembrance of the above Society, that I might read them in days
to come, among others I purchased “Goldsmith’s Vicar of Wakefield,” and
on reading it came across some of the chapters which I remembered to have
read nearly sixty years before, and do not recollect meeting with the
book in all that long interval, although I had seen it advertised.  I
thought I would one day catch hold of it.  The above work is said to be
“a domestic epic.”  Its hero is a country parson, simple and pious in his
way, a little vain of his learning, and a little proud of his fine
family.  Domestic joys and cares surround the parsonage, then in turn
comes sorrow and suffering, storms from the outer world invade its
holiness and trouble its peace.  Then comes sorrow and suffering, and we
behold the hero, like the patriarchal prince of the land of Uz, when the
Lord “put forth is hand and touched all that he had,” meeting each new
affliction with meekness patience and resignation; rising from each trial
with renewed reliance upon God, until the lowest depth of his earthly
suffering becomes the highest elevation of his moral strength,
preminently conspicious by the indwelling and powerful influence of God’s
Holy Spirit,

    “This is the grace that lives and sings,
    When other comforts cease.”

I remember in early life in the year 1816, at the time I attended school,
a great festival was held in commemoration of the triumph of Waterloo.  I
carried home from school an invitation card to my parents, which ran thus
(after naming) “you are invited to appear at the table at one o’clock on
— day next, perfectly neat, with your family, and bring your half-pint
mug, plate, knife and fork.”

The invitations were well received, the festival was truly appreciated,
the plum puddings and other good things were greatly enjoyed, a long
length of painted calico extended from one large tree to another, with
these mottoes in large letters, “Peace to Europe,” “Glory to God,”
“Deliverance to Mankind.”  I remember also to have had a printed paper
exhibited in front of my cap with the ominous words “Peace and Plenty.”

But perhaps the crowning scene of that day’s festivities was the effigy
of the fallen Emperor of France, seated on a chair, secured prominently
upon the roof of Ben Thompson’s cottage, in an attitude of sorrow, with
his Hessian boots to the knee, his cocked hat on his head, the uniform of
a superior commanding officer, with white handkerchief to his eyes, and
looking the picture of fallen greatness, no longer to dictate laws to an
infatuated and misguided people, whose time of reckoning had come.

The spring of 1854 was remarkably dry, no rain came during the months of
March and April, many farmers could not get their corn in, and those who
did so it could not germinate, by reason of the long continued drought.
It was a serious onlook when the grass by the roadside was covered with
dust and withering; the wind fresh and sharp from the northeast, week
after week, sometimes a little moisture came resembling mildew, and
altogether we seemed to be in a serious plight; in this emergency on one
calm evening in the early part of May, I went into the field just across
from my dwelling, turned to the fence where the railroad has since been
made, and there knelt down and besought the Lord that he would be
merciful to our transgressions, be favourable to our land, forgive our
iniquities, though we had sinned against Him, yet spare us good Lord, O
send us the so much-needed rain, and be not angry with us for ever.

The wind began to freshen and blow from another quarter, the vanes of the
windmill began to creak and turn round, the sails thereof quickly went
about from the north east to the south, and in the short space of twenty
four hours, which was on the 9th of May, the earth was abundantly
watered.  Here then was manifested the bestowment of a great blessing in
answer to prayer.

I had noted it down as a _glorious rain_, and I will also add the
position of the mill was changing before I rose from off my knees.  But I
have always considered there were many others who were so engaged, whose
petitions moved the hand that moves the world.

I am also reminded being now upon the subject of prayer, that during the
year 1849, that fearful epidemic called the cholera, had again visited
our country; it was computed that more than fourteen thousand were
carried off by its virulence in London, and coming nearer home great
alarm prevailed in Lowestoft and other places at the approach of such a
visitation, many were cut off in this latter place, among whom were Mrs.
John Capps, and also one of her married daughters, Mrs. Cooper, both of
whom it is believed were prepared for the solemn change.  I had on one
occasion feared that it had visited my cottage; my poor wife was attacked
in bed with fearful pain, she complained of its violence and concluded it
was an attack of cholera.  I arose and brought to hand what we had in
order to alleviate the pain, and then exhorted her to pray to God that he
would be merciful unto us for Jesus Christ’s sake, I also knelt down by
the bedside and prayed for mercy on behalf of the sufferer.  The good
Lord heard our joint petitions and after a not very long time, relief
came, the pain abated, and our thankful hearts were attuned to praise the
Lord, and the life of the sufferer was not merely lengthened out fifteen
years as was good Hezekiah’s after his afflictions, but exactly that
number twice told.  “The Lord is merciful and gracious, abounding in
compassion unto such as fear and adore and reverence his great and holy
name.”  This morning, Sunday, May the 8th, one of the first thoughts that
entered my mind was a sentence referring to rest, and for a time seemed
to wonder if it was a quotation contained in God’s Holy Word, when while
I was dressing it came into my mind that it is the language of St. Paul
to the church at Thessalonica, and so it proved, 2 _Thess._ i. 6, 7.
“Seeing it is a righteous thing with God to recompense tribulation to
them that trouble you, and to you who are troubled, rest with us.”  This
is then a joyful communication imparted to every one who can appreciate
the comfort of it, and it is an uncontroverted fact that all God’s
children here in this time-state, shall have persecution of various
kinds: of vituperations, of false accusation, and almost every other kind
of unrest, but the apostle’s motto is “rest with us.”

In conclusion I desire to feel thankful to my Heavenly Father, by whose
favour health has been continued, and although my eyesight is becoming
very much impaired, and my hand almost inflexible, yet I have endeavoured
to state a plain narrative of facts, not entirely as mere passing events,
at which one might cast a casual glance and then continue to journey on
the other side, affording no sympathy to our afflicted fellow-creatures
in seasons of grief and distress.  I am here reminded that I lost a
sister-in-law by death: Maria, the wife of John Garner, of Lowestoft, on
the nineteenth of July, 1858, aged 40 years.  Also more recent by death,
one of my own sisters, Charlotte, the wife of James Lines, of Hoxne, born
December 1st, 1810, died December 21st, 1880.  May the Spirit of God stir
up the heart of the writer of these lines, as well as the readers
thereof, to a fuller sense of the love of Him, “who though he was rich,
yet for our sakes became poor, that we through his poverty might be
rich.”  Henceforth let us not be weary in well doing, but be “followers
of them who through faith and patience inherit the promise.”  “Now our
Lord Jesus Christ himself and God, even our Father, who hast loved us and
hath given us everlasting consolation, and good hope, through grace,
comfort your hearts and stablish you in every good word and work,” so
will _I_ sing praise unto thy name for ever and ever, Amen.

                                * * * * *

                                * * * * *

            George S. Cook, Nelson Printing Works, Lowestoft.






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