The tale interested the children, who chearfully attended, and after itwas finished, Mrs. Mason told them, that as she had some letters towrite, she could not take her accustomed walk; but that she would allowthem to represent her, and act for once like women. They received theircommission, it was to take the clothes to the poor woman, whom they wereintended for; learn her present wants; exercise their own judgment withrespect to the immediate relief she stood in need of, and actaccordingly.
They returned home delighted, eager to tell what they had done, and howthankful, and happy they had left the poor woman.
Observe now, said Mrs. Mason, the advantages arising from employment;three hours ago, you were uncomfortable, without being sensible of thecause, and knew not what to do with yourselves. Nay, you actuallycommitted a sin; for you devoured cakes without feeling hunger, merely tokill time, whilst many poor people have not the means of satisfying theirnatural wants. When I desired you to read to me you were amused; and nowyou have been useful you are delighted. Recollect this in future whenyou are at a loss what to do with yourselves—and remember that idlenessmust always be intolerable, because it is only an irksome consciousnessof existence.
Every gift of Heaven is lent to us for our improvement; fancy is one ofthe first of the inferiour ones; in cultivating it, we acquire what iscalled taste, or a relish for particular employments, which occupy ourleisure hours, and raise us above the vulgar in our conversation. Thosewho have not any taste talk always of their own affairs or of theirneighbours; every trivial matter that occurs within their knowledge theyconvass and conjecture about—not so much out of ill-nature as idleness:just as you eat the cakes without the impulse of hunger. In the samestyle people talk of eating and dress, and long for their meals merely todivide the day, because the intermediate time is not employed in a moreinteresting manner. Every new branch of taste that we cultivate, affordsus a refuge from idleness, a fortress in which we may resist the assaultsof vice; and the more noble our employments, the more exalted will ourminds become.
Music, drawing, works of usefulness and fancy, all amuse and refine themind, sharpen the ingenuity; and form, insensibly, the dawningjudgment.—As the judgment gains strength, so do the passions also; wehave actions to weigh, and need that taste in conduct, that delicatesense of propriety, which gives grace to virtue. The highest branch ofsolitary amusement is reading; but even in the choice of books the fancyis first employed; for in reading, the heart is touched, till itsfeelings are examined by the understanding, and the ripenings of reasonregulate the imagination. This is the work of years, and the mostimportant of all employments. When life advances, if the heart has beencapable of receiving early impressions, and the head of reasoning andretaining the conclusions which were drawn from them; we have acquired astock of knowledge, a gold mine which we can occasionally recur to,independent of outward circumstances.
The supreme Being has every thing in Himself; we proceed from Him, andour knowledge and affections must return to Him for employment suited tothem. And those who most resemble Him ought, next to Him, to be theobjects of our love; and the beings whom we should try to associate with,that we may receive an inferiour degree of satisfaction from theirsociety.—But be assured our chief comfort must ever arise from the mind’sreviewing its own operations—and the whispers of an approving conscience,to convince us that life has not slipped away unemployed.
CHAPTER XIV
Innocent Amusements.—Description of a Welsh Castle.—History of a WelshHarper.—A tyrannical Landlord.—Family Pride.
As it was now harvest time, the new scene, and the fine weather delightedthe children, who ran continually out to view the reapers. Indeed everything seemed to wear a face of festivity, and the ripe corn bent underits own weight, or, more erect, shewed the laughing appearance of plenty.
Mrs. Mason always allowing the gleaners to have a sufficient quantity, agreat number of poor came to gather a little harvest; and she was pleasedto see the feeble hands of childhood and age, collecting the scatteredears.
Honest Jack came with his family; and when the labours of the day wereover, would play on a fiddle, that frequently had but three strings. Butit served to set the feet in motion, and the lads and lasses dancing onthe green sod, suffered every care to sleep.
An old Welsh harper generally came to the house about this time of theyear, and staid a month or more; for Mrs. Mason was particularly fond ofthis instrument, and interested in the fate of the player; as is almostalways the case, when we have rescued a person out of any distress.
She informed the children, that once travelling through Wales, hercarriage was overturned near the ruins of an old castle. And as she hadescaped unhurt, she determined to wander amongst them, whilst the drivertook care of his horses, and her servant hastened to the neighbouringvillage for assistance.
[Picture: Trying to trace the sound]
It was almost dark, and the lights began to twinkle in the scatteredcottages. The scene pleased me, continued Mrs. Mason, I thought of thevarious customs which the lapse of time unfolds; and dwelt on the stateof the Welsh, when this castle, now so desolate, was the hospitable abodeof the chief of a noble family. These reflections entirely engrossed mymind, when the sound of a harp reached my ears. Never was any thing moreopportune, the national music seemed to give reality to the pictureswhich my imagination had been drawing. I listened awhile, and thentrying to trace the pleasing sound, discovered, after a short search, alittle hut, rudely built. The walls of an old tower supported part ofthe thatch, which scarcely kept out the rain, and the two other sideswere stones cemented, or rather plaistered together, by mud and clay.
I entered, and beheld an old man, sitting by a few loose sticks, whichblazed on the hearth; and a young woman, with one child at her breast,sucking, and another on her knee: near them stood a cow and her calf.The man had been playing on the harp, he rose when he saw me, and offeredhis chair, the only one in the room, and sat down on a large chest in thechimney-corner. When the door was shut, all the light that was admittedcame through the hole, called a chimney, and did not much enliven thedwelling. I mentioned my accident to account for my intrusion, andrequested the harper again to touch the instrument that had attracted me.A partition of twigs and dried leaves divided this apartment fromanother, in which I perceived a light; I enquired about it, and thewoman, in an artless manner, informed me, that she had let it to a younggentlewoman lately married, who was related to a very good family, andwould not lodge any where, or with any body. This intelligence made mesmile, to think that family pride should be a solace in such extremepoverty.
I sat there some time, and then the harper accompanied me to see whetherthe carriage was repaired; I found it waiting for me; and as the inn Iwas to sleep at was only about two miles further, the harper offered tocome and play to me whilst I was eating my supper. This was just what Iwished for, his appearance had roused my compassion as well as mycuriosity, and I took him and his harp in the chaise. After supper heinformed me, that he had once a very good farm; but he had been sounfortunate as to displease the justice, who never forgave him, norrested till he had ruined him. This tyrant always expected his tenantsto assist him to bring in his harvest before they had got in their own.The poor harper was once in the midst of his, when an order was sent tohim to bring his carts and servants, the next day, to the fields of thispetty king. He foolishly refused; and this refusal was the foundation ofthat settled hatred which produced such fatal consequences. Ah, Madam,said the sufferer, your heart would ache, if you heard of all hiscruelties to me, and the rest of his poor tenants. He employs manylabourers, and will not give them as much wages as they could get fromthe common farmers, yet they dare not go any-where else to work when hesends for them. The fish that they catch they must bring first to him,or they would not be allowed to walk over his grounds to catch them; andhe will give just what he pleases for the most valuable part of theirpannier.
But there would be no end to my s
tory were I to tell you of all hisoppressions. I was obliged to leave my farm; and my daughter, whom yousaw this evening, having married an industrious young man, I came to livewith them. When,—would you believe it? this same man threw my son intojail, on account of his killing a hare, which all the country folks dowhen they can catch them in their grounds. We were again in greatdistress, and my daughter and I built the hut you saw in the waste, thatthe poor babes might have a shelter. I maintain them by playing on theharp,—the master of this inn allows me to play to the gentry who travelthis way; so that I pick up a few pence, just enough to keep life andsoul together, and to enable me to send a little bread to my poor sonJohn Thomas.
He then began one of the most dismal of his Welsh ditties, and, in themidst of it cried out, he is an upstart, a mere mushroom!—His grandfatherwas cow-boy to mine!—So I told him once, and he never forgot it.—
The old man then informed me that the castle in which he now wassheltered formerly belonged to his family—such are the changes andchances of this mortal life—said he, and hastily struck up a livelytune.—
While he was striking the strings, I thought too of the changes in lifewhich an age had produced. The descendant of those who had made the hallring with social mirth now mourned in its ruins, and hung his harp on themouldering battlements. Such is the fate of buildings and of families!
After I had dismissed my guest, I sent for the landlord, to make somefurther enquiries; and found that I had not been deceived; I thendetermined to assist him, and thought my accident providential. I knew aman of consequence in the neighbourhood, I visited him, and exertedmyself to procure the enlargement of the young man. I succeeded; and notonly restored him to his family; but prevailed on my friend to let himrent a small farm on his estate, and I gave him money to buy stock forit, and the implements of husbandry.
The old harper’s gratitude was unbounded; the summer after he walked tovisit me; and ever since he has contrived to come every year to enlivenour harvest-home.—This evening it is to be celebrated.
The evening came; the joyous party footed it away merrily, and the soundof their shoes was heard on the barn-floor. It was not the lightfantastic toe, that fashion taught to move, but honest heart-felt mirth,and the loud laugh, if it spoke the vacant head, said audibly that theheart was guileless.
Mrs. Mason always gave them some trifling presents at this time, torender the approach of winter more comfortable. To the men, shegenerally presented warm clothing, and to the women flax and worsted forknitting and spinning; and those who were the most industrious received areward when the new year commenced. The children had books given tothem, and little ornaments.—All were anxious for the day; and receivedtheir old acquaintance, the harper, with the most cordial smiles.
CHAPTER XV
Prayer.—A Moon-light Scene.—Resignation.
The harper would frequently sit under a large elm, a few paces from thehouse, and play some of the most plaintive Welsh tunes. While the peoplewere eating their supper, Mrs. Mason desired him to play her somefavourite airs; and she and the children walked round the tree underwhich he sat, on the stump of another.
The moon rose in cloudless majesty, and a number of stars twinkled nearher. The softened landscape inspired tranquillity, while the strain ofrustic melody gave a pleasing melancholy to the whole—and made the tearstart, whose source could scarcely be traced. The pleasure the sight ofharmless mirth gave rise to in Mrs. Mason’s bosom, roused every tenderfeeling—set in motion her spirits.—She laughed with the poor whom she hadmade happy, and wept when she recollected her own sorrows; the illusionsof youth—the gay expectations that had formerly clipped the wings oftime.—She turned to the girls—I have been very unfortunate, my youngfriends; but my griefs are now of a placid kind. Heavy misfortunes haveobscured the sun I gazed at when first I entered life—early attachmentshave been broken—the death of friends I loved has so clouded my days;that neither the beams of prosperity, nor even those of benevolence, candissipate the gloom; but I am not lost in a thick fog.—My state of mindrather resembles the scene before you, it is quiet—I am weaned from theworld, but not disgusted—for I can still do good—and in futurity a sunwill rise to cheer my heart.—Beyond the night of death, I hail the dawnof an eternal day! I mention my state of mind to you, that I may tellyou what supports me.
The festivity within, and the placidity without, led my thoughtsnaturally to the source from whence my comfort springs—to the GreatBestower of every blessing. Prayer, my children, is the dearestprivilege of man, and the support of a feeling heart. Mine has too oftenbeen wounded by ingratitude; my fellow-creatures, whom I have fondlyloved, have neglected me—I have heard their last sigh, and thrown my eyesround an empty world; but then more particularly feeling the presence ofmy Creator, I poured out my soul before Him—and was no longer alone!—Inow daily contemplate His wonderful goodness; and, though at an awfuldistance, try to imitate Him. This view of things is a spur to activity,and a consolation in disappointment.
There is in fact a constant intercourse kept up with the Creator, when welearn to consider Him, as the fountain of truth, which our understandingnaturally thirsts after. But His goodness brings Him still more on alevel with our bounded capacities—for we trace it in every work of mercy,and feel, in sorrow particularly, His fatherly care. Every blessing isdoubled when we suppose it comes from Him, and afflictions almost losetheir name when we believe they are sent to correct, not crush us.—Whilstwe are alive to gratitude and admiration, we must adore God.
The human soul is so framed, that goodness and truth must fill it withineffable pleasure, and the nearer it approaches to perfection, the moreearnestly will it pursue those virtues, discerning more clearly theirbeauty.
The Supreme Being dwells in the universe. He is as essentially presentto the wicked as to the good; but the latter delight in His presence, andtry to please Him, whilst the former shrink from a Judge, who is of toopure a nature to behold iniquity.—The wicked wish for the rocks to coverthem, mountains, or the angry sea, which we the other day surveyed, tohide them from the presence of that Being—in whose presence only theycould find joy. You feel emotions that incite you to do good; andpainful ones disturb you, when you have resisted the faithful internalmonitor. The wiser, and the better you grow, the more visible, if I mayuse the expression, will God become—For wisdom consists in searching Himout—and goodness in endeavouring to copy His attributes.
To attain any thing great, a model must be held up to exercise ourunderstanding, and engage our affections. A view of the disinterestedgoodness of God is therefore calculated to touch us more than can beconceived by a depraved mind. When the love of God is shed abroad in ourhearts; true courage will animate our conduct, for nothing can hurt thosewho trust in Him. If the desire of acting right is ever present with us,if admiration of goodness fills our souls; we may be said to prayconstantly. And if we try to do justice to all our fellow-creatures, andeven to the brute creation; and assist them as far as we can, we provewhose servants we are, and whose laws we transcribe in our lives.
Never be very anxious, when you pray, what _words_ to use; regulate your_thoughts_; and recollect that virtue calms the passions, gives clearnessto the understanding, and opens it to pleasures that the thoughtless andvicious have not a glimpse of. You must, believe me, be acquainted withGod to find peace, to rise superior to worldly temptations. Habitualdevotion is of the utmost consequence to our happiness, as what oftenestoccupies the thoughts will influence our actions. But, observe what Isay,—_that_ devotion is mockery and selfishness, which does not improveour moral character.
Men, of old, prayed to the devil, sacrificed their children to him; andcommitted every kind of barbarity and impurity. But we who serve along-suffering God should pity the weakness of our fellow-creatures; wemust not beg for mercy and not shew it;—we must not acknowledge that wehave offended, without trying to avoid doing so in future. We are todeal with our fellow-creatures as we expect to be de
alt with. This ispractical prayer!—Those who practise it feel frequently sublimepleasures, and lively hopes animate them in this vale of tears; that seema foretaste of the felicity they will enjoy, when the understanding ismore enlightened, and the affections properly regulated.
To-morrow I will take you to visit the school-mistress of the village,and relate her story, to enforce what I have been saying.
Now you may go and dance one or two dances; and I will join you after Ihave taken a walk, which I wish to enjoy alone.
CHAPTER XVI
The Benefits arising from Devotion.—The History of the VillageSchool-mistress.—Fatal Effects of Inattention to Expences, in the Historyof Mr. Lofty.
The next morning Mrs. Mason desired the children to get their work, anddraw near the table whilst she related the promised history; and in theafternoon, if the weather be fine, they were to visit the villageschool-mistress.
Her father, the honourable Mr. Lofty, was the youngest son of a noblefamily; his education had been liberal, though his fortune was small.His relations, however, seemed determined to push him forward in life,before he disobliged them by marrying the daughter of a countryclergyman, an accomplished, sensible woman.
Some time after the birth of his daughter Anna, his elder brother, theEarl of Caermarthen, was reconciled to him; but this reconciliation onlyled him into expences, which his limited fortune could not bear. Mr.Lofty had a high sense of honour, and rather a profuse turn; he was,beside, a very humane man, and gave away much more than he could affordto give, when his compassion was excited. He never did a mean action;but sometimes an ostentatious pride tarnished the lustre of very splendidones, made them appear to judicious eyes, more like tinsel, than gold. Iwill account for it. His first impulse arose from sensibility, and thesecond from an immoderate desire of human applause: for he seemed not tobe alive to devotional feelings, or to have that rock to rest on, whichwill support a frail being, and give true dignity to a character, thoughall nature combined to crush it.