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Inc

1653 East Mam Street

Rochester, New York Ue09 USA

(7 „) 482 - 0300 - Phone

(7,6) 288- 5989 -Fax

Ni3snoia3iom±s3y LJ

^i^^

CONSECRATED WOMEN.

/cc

'•The Hebrew word for tnist signifies to twine round, to ding to ; it is
tlie word that is used to cxpiiSf, the action of those plants that put out
tendrils and support themselves on something firm and strong. . . .
May we both cling fast to Christ, let the tendrils of our hearts twine
round Ilim, and He will hold us up, for we cannot sujiport our-
selves." — Extract ficr.i Letter,

Ni 3sn Oi aaiomisBb \j

/consecrated women

to; il is

put out

• • •

•ts twine
ort our-

IMARY PRYOR HACK.

. ) utiwr ,)J
' Chiiitian H\>i>nin/w('</," ' Sfl/-Snrretiair," tic

17)3

The limb's daughter is nil );l,'yi,<iis vithin : hfr clothinj; is of
-mrou^ht <^o!ii." — Psai.m xIv. 15.

FIFTH TllO I '.V.I A7>.

TORONTO :

S. R. BRIGGS,

TORONTO WILLARD TRACT DEPOSITORY AND

lilBLE DEPOT,

Corner of Yonge ani> Tkmperance Street-s.

//0'6 fi-

</ O /

J 'Wish to express my thanks to those Authors ami Publishers zJio
have kindly aided mc by alio:ci»,ii vie to extract from their
u'or^s.

Ni 3sn 01 QBiOiyisaa u

sliers who
U-om their

To Tllli MKMORY

OF MY MOTHER,

WHOSE HOLY LIVING

DIFFUSED liUIGIlTNESS AND FRAGRANCE

ALONG THE CLOUDY AND DUSTY

PATHS OF DAILY LIFE,

TO THE PKAISE OF THE SaVIOUR,

Who had redeemed her,
AND Who enabled her,

FROM childhood DOWN TO ADVANCED AGE,
TO BE A WITNESS FOR HiM.

In perusing the following brief histories llio r.auer will
ol).scrvo tliat the design of the comi>iler has not been to
show forth one cle:3'rec of holiness after another in an ascend-
ing scale i but rather to demonstrate that in a variety of
characters, and under very varied circumstances, the results
of true consecration arc essentially the same.

Much new teaching might be drawn from other lives, while
to make the circle of experience in any degree complete
would be manifestly impossible. And this incompleteness is
increased by the fact that many women's lives, which might
present most helpful phases of experience, leave no record
behind.

After alluding to the more prominent lives of Christian
women, an American divine thus writes of those who work
unseen beyond their own little circles: "And many other
modest, obscure, hidden ones, whose biographies the world
will never sec in i)rint, will stand among the crowned ones
in glory," adding "they did what they could." And what
more appreciative words can be written of a woman's devotion
to her Lord, than these words used by the Saviour Himself
concerning the woman who brought her gift of fragrant oint-
ment to anoint His head, causing Him to exclaim, «'Siie hath
done what she could."

Her offering could not be hidden from Him who saw not
only the outward gift, but the inward attitude of the heart
which prompted it, which could alone make it of value in His
sight "to whom ^//hearts are open, all desires known."

It is surely for the encouragement of all women that,
" throughout the whole world," the imple outcome of this
woman's love to her Lord has, by His command, been "spoken
of for a memorial of her."

CIHrTE

11.

III.

IV.

VI.

VII.

VIII.

Ni 3sn 01 a3iomis3a u

CONTENTS.

-•♦■

INTRODUCTION

CII\PTKR

I. CATIIAKINF. OFSIEXA

Praying and xvaUhhig,

II. SUSANNA WF.SLF.Y AND AMELIA SIEVEKIXG.
''Ahi'oys tthoundin^ in the work of the loui:'

FAQI
I

III. FKAU TRUDEL

Etidmin^ as seeing Him who is invisible.

IV. CHARLOTTE ELIZABETIT TONNA.

*' Rejoicing' in hcpe.'"

V. MARGARET WILSON

«' Throughly furnished unto all gojd ivorh."

VI. MATILDA COUNTESS VON DER RECKE VOL-
MERSTEIN

''Fervent in spirit, sening th-: Lord.'*

• •

VII. CILRLSTLNE ALSOP .

*' A suecourer of many. "

VIII. SARALL A N AND ELLZABET/I IV-

■-' M::et for the Masttr's use:'

169

18S

'97

• • •

Vlll

Contents.

CHAPTER

IX. CHRISTIAN EDDY AND LOUISE SCIIEPLER /7^

" Poor, yd viaJdng many rich:'

X. FIDELIA FISKE

Watching for souls.

XL ADELAIDE L. NEIVTON

''Holy in all manner oj conversation:'

Xri. LENA IIUBER

''Kept ly the forcer of Cody

" Eor-etling the things that are behind."^

XV. MARIE

" Con see rated vnlo the lord:'

237

. 267

.291

Xni. lyiLIIELnilNA, viscountess GLENORCIIY , 299
''Doing sen'iee as unto the Lord:'

XIV. ISABELLA GRAHAM

... 313

335

Ni 3sn 01 a3iomis3d u

a ter

child]

amon

of th

uncai

souls

!
1

TAG*

EK . 217

1 INTRODUCTION.

237

267

f 291

299

Z^i

335

IN the record of our Lord's life on earth there are few more
exquisitely touching words than those uttered by II im
v.hen, not willing that two or three only should appropriate
His family affections, He said, " Whosoever shall do the wil\
of My Father which is in heaven, the same is My brother and
sister and mother."

It is witli the tender relationships of sister and mother borne
to Him by every consecrated woman the world over, that we
have to concern ourselves. In that day in which the secrets
of all hearts shall be laid bare, will not many a faithful woman
ask of Him with unfeigned surprise, " When did I act the part
of sister or mother to Thee ? " and will He not reply, " Inas-
much as thou wast a sister or a mother to any for My sake,
thou wast ' My sister and mother ' " ?

We must not limit this blessed bond of relationship. The
need of men and women and children, to have sisters and
mothers to care for them, is infinite.

The waifs and strays of society, who never felt the touch of
a tender loving hand, are not more needy than some of the
children reared in the gay wodd, who are only cared for
among a thousand other beautiful things, as feeding the pride
of their parents. The bodies of the former are ill kept and
uncared for, but what shall we say of the starved hearts and
souls of the latter? Too often the most cultivated teachers

2 Consecrated Women.

are tliemsclvcs unsatisfied in heart and soul, and arc not careful
to keep their chiUing doubts and speculations out of their
teaching. It is a cause of deepest regret that there is so ^ften
**a divorce between high intellectual culture and r. ' ious
faith." But there are women possessing large and cuitivated
intellectual powers, and who arc at the same time deeply
spiritual. Some of these, in comparative seclusion, are doing
a great work in training sons and daughters to be worthy
citizens of this world, " having the promise also of that which
is to come." These are showing forth to husbands and sons
the glory and beauty of a complete and consecrated woman-
hood. Others are found, in the ranks of the workers in the
foreign and home mission fields, training the minds and souls
and bodies of the heathen at home and abroad, bringing to
bear upon untutored natures that subtle influence which, when
sanctified, affects even the roughest of mankind. Have these
noble women forgotten that another and more difficult mission
is waiting for the elevated and delicate labour which they only
can bestow ? What grander use for their consecrated talents
and acquirements than to be placed out to usury among their
young countrywomen of the higher and middle classes, reach-
ing their souls through their intellects. Thus the talents would
be multiplied a thousand fold in a race of women prepared
to be not only cultured, but consecrated daughters and sisters
and wives and mothers and workers in many fields. In
this work the teachers must be true women, with the tender
feelings of a woman in full force. Their intellectual powers
and acquirements must not make them less able to sit by a
sick bed, or to bind up a broken heart, or to be referred to for
help in all things small and great by those who look up to
them.

In the following pnges we have grouped together a number

Ni 3sn 01 aaiomisaa u

Inirociuction,

not careful
Lit of their

is so 'ften
li ri ■ ious
1 cultivated
ime deeply

are doing
be worthy
that which
Is and sons
ed woman-
kers in the
1 and souls
bringing to
liich, when
[ave these
lit mission

they only
ted talents
nong their
ses, reach -
snts would

jDrepared
md sisters
ilds. In
the tender
al powers
:o sit by a
rred to for
ook up to

a number

of consecrated women. Among them are some who, with
large mental and spiritual gifts, were yet fully competent to all
the simplest duties of a woman's life. There are others, with
fewer opportunities or powers for intellectual advancement,
who were equally honourable and devoted in the sphere which
they were called to fill. We believe that all of them (whether
highly or fairly educated, or with almost no mental cultivation)
show forth the refining, elevating power of Divine grace not
only on heart and soul, but on the intellect also. For the
consecrated woman who does her woman's work in close com-
munion with the Lord Jesus, and with a single eye to God's
guidance and glory, develops in heart and soul and mind. She
is sister or mother or daughter to all within her reach ; and with
her heart all broken up with tenderness, and with that quick
intuition which God has given her, energized and sanctified by
her faith, she sees the need of each and can often devise a
remedy ; with her hands she brings help and soothing, or out
of her storehouse of experience gems of comfort and counsel.
Her life is penetrated by her humbleness and gentleness, and
by her own nobility. To her is the description of the wise
king applicable: *• Strength and honour are her clothing. . .
She openeth her mouth with wisdom, and in her tongue is the
law of kindness." Such women are found in all ranks of
society and in all spheres, and their "price is far above
rubies."

There is one lesson which we read in most of tliese life
stories, that to the soul that seeks after God, and after Mim
only, a way is made to carry out her convictions of duty,
however strange and impracticable they may have appeared at
first sight. In many cases the " mountains are made a way,"
hard things are made easy, and crooked things straight. We
may also believe that all of these devoted women were dis

4 Consecrated IVotncn.

tinctly prepared for a special calling. And while with some
the waiting for its unfolding was long, we are led to sec the
necessity for the delay in order that " patience might have her
perfect work " in moulding the character for the life mission.
It is interesting to mark in many of these lives how the duties
and burdens incident to the daily life of a woman were made
subservient to the interests of the special mission. Indeed
these homely duties may often have been helpful in preventing
that overstrain of mind which sometimes overtakes tliose
whose attention is concentrated upon one object, especially
when that object is intellectual or spiritual work. And no
doubt the contact with men and things and with all kinds of
perplexities, entailed by their domestic and family cares, by
keeping up a fresh sympathy with the toils and joys of every
day living were most propitious to the work itself. To some
the domestic duties were the mission, and through them heart
and soul and mind were disciplined and purified, until the
majesty of a holy life was seen and read of all men. From
some of these lives we seem to hear the eclio of the words of
one who herself had passed through pain and bereavement,
and also through the fires of persecution : ♦* Ah, if you knew
what peace there is in an accepted sorrow ! "

In the lives before us we find woman, whatever the posi-
tion in which she is placed, showing lorth those powers and
graces peculiar to her. In the Countess von der Recke
and Margaret Wilson we see the wife as the true help-
meet to her husband, making no exacting demands upon his
time and attention. In each case true love is the foundation
of the union ; the two are ** no more tv/ain," and the interests
of the one are the interests of the other, and the wife feels
it to be her highest privilege to make her husband's path of
service as easy as possible, however great the sacrifice to her

Ni 3sn 01 a3ioiyiS3a u

Ic with some
?d to sec the
ght luive her

life mission.
i\v the duties
1 were made
on. Indeed
ti preventing
rtakcs those
:t, especially
■k. And no

all kinds of

ily cares, by

)ys of every

To some

them heart
:d, until the
nen. From
the words of
ereavement,
if you knew

er the posi-
powers and
der Recke
true help-
Is upon his
foundation
he interests
c wife feels
d's path of
iiice to her

Introdtiction, 5

own feelings. And, in times of outward separation, is it not
those v,-ho aie united in Christ who can bear the trial most
bravely, because of that blessed fellowship of spirit over which
time and absence have no influence save that of deepening it?
One effect of this indescribably tender yet sanctified union
ought to be a quickening of the heart in deeper love to all
around. It was thus with Margaret Wilson. Not only did her
love to her own family suffer no diminution when she entered
into new ties, but the more her heart's tender love intensified
towards husband and children and adopted children, the more
fully did it flow back into the old home with ever deepening
current. Her kindred therefore could never have the chillinf^
sense of losing one upon whom they had poured out a life-
long affection.

In Frau Triidel we see the grace of God magnified in
enabling a woman to be a true and noble wife to one who
gives her back no hel^), no love, no encouragement to cheer
her on her way.

In the prayerful training of her own children probably none
of the devoted mothers here pourtrayed surpasses Susanna
Wesley ; the results of her labour eternity will alone unfold.

In those who have not children of their own, we see the
mother's heart asserting itself, as in all truly consecrated
women it must do. This is exemplified to an almost unlimited
extent in Fidelia Fiske, and Christian Eddy, and Catharine
of Siena. But why need we particularize where all are pour-
ing out the sympathies of their hearts upon sinning or sorrow-
ing ones ?

If there is one lesson more than another that we read in
these life stories, it is that holy living cannot be maintained
without much prayer and communion. A young man in pro-
fessional life, who devoted his evening hours to work in the

6 Consecrated Women,

lowest part of London, used daily to rescue from sleep two or
three of the early morning hours for prayer and communion
and study of the Scriptures. " He often recommended the
practice to others, enforcing it by the remark of Newton, that
* 'f the sack be filled at once with wheat there will be no
room for chalT,' saying, 'I fill my sack as early and as full as I
can at the footstool of the Lord, or the devil would get in a
bushel of chaff before breakfast.' "

]>ut all cannot procure the hour alone with Jesus. In lives
that are full of toil early and late, slated times for communion
with God are often impossible. However, we see, as in the
experience of Frau Triidcl, that unceasing watchfulness and
prayer can fill up the hours of heaviest toil and care. God's
power of adapting His resources to peculiar circumstances is
as much seen in the spiritual as in the natural world :

'" Abiding in His presence, and walking in the light,
And seeking to do always what is pleasing in His sight,
We look to Him to keep us all glorious within."

May the distinct lesson of each individual life shown forth
in these pages be applied by the Holy Spirit to the hearts and
minds of those who may read its story and require its mes-
sage. To whatever of holy living these women attained,
other Christian women may also attain ; for the Divine words
cover the deepest as well as the simplest need : "My grace is
sufficient for thce;^ and ''My strength is made/.r/r/ in weak-
ncss."

Ni 3sn 01 a3iomiS3y lj

lecp two or
:oramunion
lended the
ewton, that
will be no
as full as I
Jlcl get in a

In lives

:ommunion
I as in the
ilncss and
re. God's
istanccs is

own forth
licarts and
: its mcs-
attained,
ine words
y grace is
^ in weak-

PRAYTNG AKD WATCHING,

CATHARINE OF SIENA.

My hark is u>aftcd to the strand

By breath Divine,
And on the helm there rests a hand

Other than mine.

One 7vho has knoivn in storms to sail

I have on board ;
AbOi e tJie raving of the gale

I hear my Lord.

He holds me tvhen the billows smite:

I shall not fall ;
If short 'tis sharp, if long 'tis light ;

He tempers all.

Dean Alforo.

The followinfj vivid description of temptation and victory over
it is written by one " whose praise is in all the churches." She-
had been for many years a Christian, but had only just learned
that she might ask for and expect always deliverance /// the /tour
of temptation. The temptation referred to came suddenly. " The
pain was keen and stinging, and the temptation tremendous to
take up the old weapon, and write words which would sting in
return by their very truth (1 had to contest every inch with the
tempter) ; then, to give up that, but send a text which would bite
just as severely ; then, to tell a friend, who would be certain to take
up the cudgels without my asking, if he only knew of the circum-
stance ; then, to be passive, but not to prevent one who was very
indignant from 'speaking his mind' ; then, to do all that was right
outside, but to allow myself an unspoken little hope that it would
be 'avenged ' somehow, by God if not by man ! But Christ stood
by mc, and hcli)ed me over each in succession, till at last I felt Ik-
had gained a complete victory for me, and every single bit of vexa-
tion was taken away, every shade of ill feeling— so'uttcrly, I can-
not explain how utterly ! Then, for about twenty minutes, it was
just as if, having extracted the sting, He was Himself pouring in
oil and wine. Such a flow of passages of His sweet word came
rushing into my mind, bearing upon every point of the little trial
and the recent temptation. If I had tried all day I could not have
made such a selection for myself. I was intensely happy, for it
was, I have no doubt, permitted that He might 'test my gold'/;/
;//t- in another way. I had proved how He could sustain me in
[intense] pain; and nov/ He proved how Pic could triumph for me
over any temptation. I say ' any,' because I do not recollect ever
having been quite so suddenly and sharply stung and tempted
before ; and I had never previously felt such miraculous power
upon me in a hand-to-hand battle with Satan."- -/vvw/ '■'■ Such a
lUessingi' bv J. T. IVrenford, Vicar of St. Paul's, Newport.

Ni 3sn 01 a3iomis3a u

.1 victory over
urchcs." She
y just learncil
;c in the hour
clcnly. •* The
remcndous to
voiild sting in

inch with the
ich would bite
certain to take
of the circum-
who was very
that was riyht

that it would
It Christ stood

last I felt Ile
Jc bit of vcxa-
ultcrly, I can-
linutes, it was
elf pouring in
:t word came
the little trial
ould not have
r happy, for it

my gold 'fot
ustain me in
iuniph for me
recollect ever

and tempted
culous power
■out ^^Siuii a
ivport.

CATHARINE OF SIENA. ^
Born 1347. Died 1380.

WE accept instruction from the study of lives which have
shown forth Goil's glory in connection wiiii churches
which wc believe to be to a large extent mistaken. Hut we
must not allow the good we obtain from the contemplation of
such lives to blind us to the errors, in spite of which they
were so worthy of imitation. Nor must wc fail to discern how
far they were lifted above the errors of their education, and
keiit within the borders of such churches, in order that they
mi.^ht act as examples to those who would hold all Icachinr^
from outside to be heretical. From such a standpoint we
approach the life of Catharine of Siena.

Over the ebb and flow of successive waves of thought and
action, in churches and individuals, during five hundred years,
comes to us the twofold message of her life and teaching :

" The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin," and " I
can do all things through Christ who strengtheneth me."

It was at a stormy time, when social and political strife held
sway in Italy, and when morality and religion were at a very
low ebb, that Catharine of Siena was born in 1347. Her
parents, the wool-dyer Giacomo Bcnincasa and his wife Lapa,
were highly virtuous citizens of the independent city of Siena.

So careful was Giacomo of his words, so thoughtful of the
reputation of others, that he would say to his wife of an enemy
who had calumniated him : " Let him alone, dear, let him

* This sketch is compiled from "Catharine of Siena," a biography by
Josephine E. Butler. By permission of the author.

Consecrated U^omcn,

alone : Cod will show him his error and be our defonco, and
God will bless you." And when he saw any of his 'larL'e
household vexed he would gently say: "Now, .^jw, do not
say anything which is not just or kind, and God w.ll give you
Ills blessing." And so had the spirit, which pervaded the
family life, entered into the children that when the daughter
lionaventura married she was unhappy till all unsavoury con-
vcrsation had been banished from her new home and the
circle which gathered there.

In the fourteenth century the city of Siena was a warlike
republic, containing two hundred thousand inhabitants The
citizens arc still proud of their city, thougli it has diminished in
size and now numbers only nine gates instead of thirty-nine
as in Catharine's time. These gates led out into the sur-
rounding country, for there were no suburbs, so that the line
of demarcation between the city and the country was well
dehned. The valleys round the city are wooded, and there
are pleasant lanes and olive gardens, and meadows with sliecp
feeding. It was, no doubt, some of these lanes that Catharine's
tiny feet traversed when in her young days she sought for the
desert, her ideal of a place in which the soul might find God
As night approached the little saint returned as fast as she
could to the shelter of her father's house, rightly thinking that
the family at home would be anxious about her. The home of
Catharine was in the Contrada D'Oca (tho poor quarter) of
the city. This is situated in a little valley l>ing between the
ancient city and a low hill to the west on which stands the
great church of St. Dominic. Here is still standing the house
in which she was born, also her father's workshop and the
chapel erected to her memory, over the door of which is
inscribed, ''Sposce Christi Katharinaj domus."

At the age of twelve it was considered time to select a
husband for Catharine, but the girl resisted the appeals of
her family to enter the married state. After long waiting
and much i)ersuasion, and some persecution from thcT vnimacr
members of her tamily, her father at last assured 'himsdf

Ni 3sn 01 a^iomisay u

Catharine of Siena.

efonco, and
f his large
3\v, do not
il give you
rvadcd tlie
ic daughter
ivoury con-
le and tlic

I a warhke

ants. The

ninishcd in

thirty-nine

the sur-
al the line
'• was well

and there
with sheep
Catharine's
jht for the

find God.
fast as she
nking that
le home of
luarter) of
tween the
stands the

the house
p and the

which is

) select a
ippeals of
ig waiting
e younger

1 himself

that the idea was no romantic thought which would pass
;uvay, but indeed u call from God. Giacomo showed his
wisdom in thus waiting, for the desire after tuch a life
woulil very naturally take possession of the mind of a girl
inaucnccd by the false teaching that the highest spiritual
attainments can only be reached by those who t/ius devote
tliemsclvcs to God. Her biographer says that had Catharine
married, and become like Lapa the mother of a numerous
family, "she might have been the recipient and dispenser
abundantly of spiritual life to all around her ; but she would
not have done the work which Catharine of Siena did. Her
whole soul, her whole time, the whole strength of her affections
Would not have been reserved to be lavished \.\\)o\\ the great
funily for whom she elected to live— humanity." This is true
as regards her time, and it is evident that Catherine's path
was the right one for her. But we must not forget that a
marriage combining oneness of heart and soul and mind and
life in the service of God and man is a glorious spectacle ; and
were marriages, between men and women entirely given up
to Christ, largely multiplied, the church would receive a rich
blessing in consequence. Many such unions in different ages
of the church have plainly testified that it is possible to give
the deepest tenderest affections to one, while, at the same
time, the heart is enlarged in the love of Christ to embrace
souls the world over.

Happily Catharine did not go into a convent, as all
maidens who had a vocation were supposed to do. It was
in her father's house that she sought the Lord, and at this
time she cried to Him continually " to lead her in His paths."
To wear the mantle of the third order of St. Dominic, and
become a preacher, was the craving of her soul. On one
occasion her fatiicr entered her chamber when she was in
prayer, and the expression of her face so struck him that he
could oppose her no longer. Another event hastened the
hour when Catharine was to receive formal permission to servo
God according to her conscience. One night she dreamed that

i^ Consccrafcii IVomcn,

St. Dominic came to her and said: " Daugiitcr, b: of good
cheer, fear no hindrance, for the day is coming in which you
ihall be clothed in the mantle you so much desire." She
awoke with new strength and joy. Calling together her
parents and brothers and asters, she gave them her reasons for
the course she had pursued, begging them no longer to arrange-
any earthly sphere for her, for that it would be easier "'to
dissolve a rock," than to alter her resolution. She ended her
appeal with these very decided words: "If you wish me to
remain as a servant in your house I will cheerfully fulfil all
your will to the best of my power ; but if ycu should be so
displea<:ed with me as to make you rlcwre me to leave you,
know that I shall remain unmovahle in my resolve. He who
has united my soul to His has all the riches of heaven and
earth, anrl He can provide for and protect me." Amid the
sobs and tears of all pre.cnt her father at last spoke : " God
preserve us, dearest child, from any longer opposing the resolu-
tion which He has inspired ; experience proves to\is that you
have not been actuated by caprice but by a movement of
Divine grace. Fulfil without hindrance the vow you have
taken ; do all that the Holy S^iirit commands you ; henceforth
your time shall be at your own disposal ; only pray for us that
we may become worthy of Him who has called you at so
tender an age." Then to his wife and chihlren he said, " J et
no one hereafter contradict my dear child, or seek to turn her
from her holy resolution." Catiiarinc was now allowed a little
chamber to herself, and there for three years with only a board
for her bed and with very scanty meals did this young girl
wrestle in prayer with God that she might know Christ and
"the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of His
sufferings, and be made conformable to His death."

Lapa was pained to see her child lying only upon a hard
board, arr] soaietimes earned her to her own softer bed ; but
Catharine woMi-' -loon slip a.;ay to the scene of licr conflicts,
her consecratio!., and her most sweet communings wilh her
Lord. With all her austerities it is refreshing to find that

Ni 3sn oi aaioiyisaa u

Catharine of Siena,

»3

p, b; of good
in which you
desire." She
together her
ler reasons for
^cr to arrange
e easier " to
lie ended her
u wish me to
fully fulfil all
should be so
to leave you,
r'e. He who
f heaven and
," Amid the
poke : " God
ng the resolu-
D us til at you
iiovement of
)w you iiavc
; henceforth
ly for us that
d you at so
le said, " J ct
: to turn her
owed a little
only a board
is young girl
"f Christ and
ship of His

ipon a hard
er bed ; but
lier conflicts,
igs with her
to find that

Catharine "cherished cleanliness and neatness as a sign of
interior purity." " She often changed her woollen garments,
.aid allowed n«; nn..»s of asceticism to appear in her person."

!-lie set herself the task of living with the smallest pos-
sible amount of sleep, in order that she might devote more
time to prayer. Her struggl s to overcome the desire for
sleep were severe ; but prayer was her life, and it was a joy
to her to make an effort to enlarge this privilege. During the
hour of matins, while the brothers and sisters of St. Dominic
were praying, Catharine slept, and when they returned to the
duties of the day she recommenced her pleadings with H- aven.
She loved to think that in this way unceasing 'nyer was
ascending from the Contrada D'Oca.

The annals of the one, holy, catholic chu rch ai -• full of
histories of preparation for service and of acts o onsecration,
similar in results, yet diversified according to th urroundings
and the age in which the ordeal had to bo pas»cU th-ough.
Moses spent the third i art of his entire lifetime in f • desert.
David was for years, .ke his great Antitype, (.
rejected of men. To c> me to later times, we se>
trained by early obedien e for spncial service. >
quet (afterwards Mrs. Fk cher) had to retire from h
house into a lodging, that she might serve God acct ding to
her conscience; and the tonsccration, thus publicly vowed,
was manifestly owned and blessed of God during si vcars
of continuous service. H \rriet Jukes, a young gi, i the
middle walks of life, timid v yet bravely dv'^clined 1. :■ first
invitation to a ball, and latei refused marriage with one who
was dearer than life, because she loved her Lord better , an
any earthly joy. Her rewarc was great, even here; and .lie
and the husband whom God j. ive her left behind an example
of eminent holiness.

The third order of St. Do inic, into which Catharine so
ardently desired to be admittc , was one v/hich surely every
ti'ulv consecr.itf^'^. Christian cntt .-; in a, SDiritual sense. It was
instituted to enlist laymen to enier on a service in which they

cd and
hrislians

Bosan-
- father's

Consecrated Women,

could innuencc many who would be prejudiced against tlid
sacerdotal orders. Tiiough the vows were for laymen only,
to our ideas they cover the whole ground, and are applicable
to those called to preach by word and doctrine equally with
those who preach by life and conversation. The members ol
this order were sworn " to sacrifice,'" if necessary, their worldly
goods and their lives in the cause of their Lord; and their
wives engaged never to hinder, but to assist their husbands as
much as possible in the work.

The want in the church and in the world, to meet which

these men and women were enrolled, remains the same as

then. It must be supplied by those who mingle, or at some

time have mingled, fully in the every day concerns of life.

Very few religious teachers, who have never been in common

daily life used to all kinds of men, have versatility enough to

meet all the needs of every day men and women. Those°who,

out of busy lives, give a few hours weekly to mission work of

whatever kind, bring to bear upon those among whom they

labour a very fresh and intelligent sympathy. Others, who

are engaged continuously in visiting the sinful, the sorrowful,

and the sick, often become worn and depressed. All honour

to those who thus devote themselves entirely to this work ; but

if all Christians took their share these might have the' rest

which is their right, the rest of change of work. We have seen

workers so jaded that, while their hearts have been as full of

love to the Lord as ever, they have dreaded to make their

accustomed calls, body and mind being unable to bear the

strain any longer. Then again we have heard words like

these : " Oh that I had time to earn my living and to visit the

people as well, then I should not feel that they thought I was

working for pay ! "

The women at Siena who had hitherto entered the militia
of St. Dominic were widows of very mature age, or wives con-
secrated to work with their husbands. Having no cloister,

each sister was expected to rule her life vci her ov- ' ''

This being so, the elders among the sisters ilemurred at the

Ni 3sn 01 a3i'jiMib*dd LJ

Catharine of Siena.

ed against th(i
laymen only,
are applicable
i equally with
e members ot
', their worldly
)rd; and their
r husbands as

:o meet which
5 the same as
le, or at some
ncerns of life.
Ml in common
lity enough to
Those wlio,
isslon work of
ig whom they
Others, who
the sorrowful,
All honour
his work ; but
have the rest
We have seen
een as full of
:o make their
J to bear the
i words like
id to visit the
bought I was

:d the militia
3r wives con-
; no cloister,
r own Iiuusc.
lurrcd at the

idea of taking into their order such a youthful maiden as
Catharine. But to Lapa's second api)lication they replied : " If
she be not too handsome, nor oi" a beauty too remarkable, we
will receive her on your account and hers." Catharine was
not beautiful, and those who conversed with her found such
maturity and self abnegation, sucli stedfastness of purpose in
the pursuit of duty, that they at once admitted her. Catharine
received the mantle when about sixteen ; she did not, all at
once, leave her seclusion. The work that had been going on
in her soul had been intensely absorbing. It was needful for
Catharine, it is needful for all those who are to guide souls
with wisdom and discrimination, to learn to know intimately
tlie Shepherd's voice, guiding them in the minutest details of
life. Were this deeply spiritual training more earnestly sought
after, we should hear less of heart and soul wounds being
rudely torn open by those who essay to probe and mollify.
Catharine's communion with her Lord is described in her
book called " The Dialogue." It is the record of the conver-
sations between her soul and God. She explains, however,
that God did not generally communicate with her in words,
but an impression was made on her mind which resolved itself
into the words which she afterwards wrote down.

Her biographer says : "If you ore disposed, reader, to doubt
the fact of these communications from God, then I would give
you one word of advice, and one only. Go you and make the
attempt to live a life of prayer such as she lived ; and then,
and not till then, will you be in a position which will give you
any shadow of a right, or any power, to judge of this soul's
dealings with God.

" But observe that a brief fitful effort will not suffice to place
you in this position ; you must persevere long in the difficult
path of Divine research; you must bring to the task the sus-
tained self denial and untiring diligence which some men bring
to the pursuit of discovery in natural science. . . . The
science of which Catharine was a devotee is, let it be

re-

membered, pre-eminently an experimental science. For many,

Consecrated M'oiuen.

however, it is needless that I should speak thus; nor will I
attempt any explanation or apology for the manner in which
our saint constantly speaks of that which the natural eye has
not seen, nor the ear heard, but which God has in all times
revealed to them that persistently seek Him. Those who
have any experience of real prayer know full well that in the
pause of the soul before God, after it has uttered its complaint,
made known its desires, or sought guidance in perplexity]
there comes the clearer vision of duty, and the still small voice
of guidance is heard, rectifying the judgment, strengthening
the resolve, and consoling the spirit; they know that this in-
fluence, external to us and yet within us, gently and forcibly
moves us, deals with us, speaks with us, in fine. Prayer can-
not truly be called communion, if the only voice heard be the
voice of the pleader. Be still, be silent then, dear reader,
if you are disposed to object. \i you have not yet heard the
voice of God speaking within you, it is because you have not
yet pleaded enough with Him; it is because you have not yet
considered or acted in this matter in a truly scientific manner."
When the consecration vows had been fully sealed, Satan
began his fiercest assaults. How frequently is this the ex-
perience of the believer who has made covenant with his
Lord ! Before the resolution is taken, Satan's plan often is to
lull the soul into a sleepy state, or by subtle means to draw
her away from her design; but when the decision is made
the conflict is at times severe. In Catharine's case it was like
passing through one furnace after another, each one heated
immeasurably hotter than it is wont to be heated. It is
inexpressibly touching to read the details of her agony—
the warm, passionate heart penetrated by the sight, vividly
pictured by her imagination, of tender joys which ehe felt
were not for her. Yet although consumed by the hunger
after these joys, she had no desire to grasp what she believed
her Father in heaven had denied. Neither was there any
thought of merit connected with the sacrifice. Thousands of
liearts have passed through variations of this angui.^h, when all

Ni 3sn 01 aai'jiaib'dd u

Catharine of Siena.

us; nor will I
nncr iu which
atural eye has
IS in all times
Those who
ill that in the
its complaint,
in perplexity,
till small voice
strengthening
/ that this in-
y and forcibly
Prayer can-
heard be the
dear reader,
yet heard the
you have not
have not yet
tific manner."
sealed, Satan
1 this the ex-
lant with his
m often is to
eans to draw
sion is made
le it was like
1 one heated
:ated. It is
her agony —
sight, vividly
hich ehe felt
' the hunger
she believed
is there any
'housands of
ill, when all

the hopes of earth have been blighted and life lias appeared
but an and wa..te. Happy they who, like our saint, have had
by them m_ the fire - One like unto the Son of man," tempering
the otherwise maddening heat, and cnabUng them afterwards "

" To bless the cleansing fires,
And the furnace of living pain."

At one time so terrible was the sense of the presence of evil
spirits in her little room that Catharine retreated to the church
on the hill. There she remained three days in prayer Tiic
spirits seemed to cry to her: " Poor miserable creature, thou
canst never pass thy whole life in this state; we will torment
thee to death unless thou obey us." Catharine answered :
■Le It so ! I have chosen suffering for Christ's sake, and I am
willing, If need be, to endure this till death." On utterin-
these words a great light seemed to descend from above^
fil ing the place where she kneeled with heavenly brightness
Ihe devis fled, and the Lord Jesus Himself conversed with
iier. Catharine asked Him, - Lord, where wast Thou when
my heart was so tormented?" -J was in thy heart" He
replied. '<0h Lord!'' she answered, -fhou art everl'asting
Iruth, and I humbly bow before Thy word; but how can I
behove that Thou wast in my heart when it was filled with
such detestable thoughts ! " The Lord asked her, " Did these
thoughts and temptations give thee pleasure or pain ? " " An
exceeding pain and sadness," she replied ; to whom the Lord ;
Ihou wast in woe and sadness because I -as hidden in the
midst of thy heart; My presence it was, which rendered those
thoughts insupportable to thee ; thou didst strive to repel
them, because they filled thee with horror, and because thou
didst not succeed, thy spirit was bowed down with sorrow
When the period I had determined for the duration of the
icombat had elapsed, I sent forth the beams of My light, and
the shades of hell were dispelled, because they cannot resist

••• — . !>Qi:i..

This circumstance recalls to us a temptation and deliver-

Consecrated Women.

ance nanatcd to iis by a working man. After a life of
evil and blasphemy he fell into poor health, his soul was
arrested by the fear of death, and he began to seek ardently
after God. Satan, fearing to lose his victim, tempted him
fiercely for three weeks. Tlie temptation took this form :
" Thy disease is incurable, it will be one of terrible and pro-
longed suffering; thou wilt be a burden to thy family; destroy
thyself." Night and day for three weeks the man prayed for
help, and at the end of that time One whom he described
as the Lord Jesus appeared by his bed during the night, and
Satan fled away and did not return. Then followed a year of
witness bearing, and joy and peace amidst bodily anguish.
The grace that was sufficient for patriarchs, for apostles, for
Catharine of Siena, is the same to-day. It is our unbelief
which prevents the full manifestation of it in individuals
and churches now. The language which was once true of
Nazareth may be too truly applied now to many of these :
"He could not do many mighty works because of their un-
belief."

Catharine came forth from the furnace without the smell
of burning upon her. It was about this time that she had
the dream, which was the origin of the legend depicted
by Corrcggio and other painters as the mystical marriage of
St. Catharine. In her dream she saw her Saviour approach her
and place upon her finger a ring, the pledge of her espousals.
He told her to keep the ring in all holiness and faithfulness.
This made a great impression upon her, and was followed by
even closer communion with her Lord than she had before
enjoyed. Catharine taught herself to read about this time;
she did not learn to write till later, but she acquired such
facility in composition that the beauty and clearness of her
style are much admired by Italian writers. It is surely the
simplicity and reality and directness of her words which give
such a charm to her writings.

We must hasten on to the time when the call came to
Catharine to leave her seclusion. Often a life of extended

N! 3Sn 01 QBlOiyiSdd LJ

Catharine of Siena.

iftcr a life of
his soul was
I seek ardently
tempted him
lok this form :
rrible and pro-
am ily ; destroy
lan prayed for
1 he described
the night, and
owed a year of
bodily anguish,
)r apostles, for
is our unbelief
in individuals
1 once true of
nany of these :
ie of their un-

hout the smell
i that she had
gend depicted
:al marriage of
ir approach her

her espousals,
nd faithfulness,
as followed by
5he had before
bout this time;

acquired such
Nearness of her
X is surely the
)rds which give

; call came to
fe of extended

service begins in a very simple act of duty. It was so with
Cntharme. The Divine call came in this command- "Go
quickly My daughter, it is the hour of the family repast ; join
thy parents and thy family ; remain with them, and I will be
with thee." To Catharine, who dreaded the bustle of the
large household filled witii children (twenty-five had been born
to Giacomo and Lapa), with apprentices, and with traders
continually coming and going, the call seemed one of great
solemnity ; indeed, it was to her like going away from God
and she cried : "Wherein have I offended 'I'hee, my God, that
Thou dost send me from Thee? What should I do at table?
It IS not by bread alone that man lives; are not the words
that i,roceed out of Thy mouth far better, to impart vigour
and energy to the soul of a pilgrim ? Thou knowest better
than I that I fled the society of men that I might find Thee
my Lord and my God ; and must I now mingle anew in
worldly affairs, to fall again into my former worldliness and
stupidity, and perhaps offend against Thee ? " The words of
reply are tender : - Le calm. My child ; thou must accomplish
all justice, that My grace may become fruitful in thee and in
others. I desire not that thou shouldest be separated from
Me ; on the contrary, I desire that thou shouldest become
more closely united ^o Me by charity towards thy neighbour,
ihou knowest that love has two commandments, to love Me
and to love thy neighbour." It was from no unwillingness
\o do the will of God that Catharine still farther inquired how
It would be possible for a woman to go forth into public service
on account of the contempt felt for her weakness and the im-
propriety of her conversing indiscriminately with men

The Lord replied: "The word 'impossible' belongcth not to

God ; am not I He who created the human race, who formed

both man and woman? I pour out the favour of My Spirit

on whom I will. With Me there is neither male nor female,

[neither plebeian nnr nnKi,-> 1m,^ „ii __. . t , , ,, '

liut inasmuch as I know that thou hast spoken thus
not because of faithlessness but through humility, I will answer

Consecrated Women,

thee. I desire thee then to know that at the present time
the pride of man has become so great, especially among those
who esteem themselves to be learned and wise, that My
justice can no longer bear with them and is about to visit
them with a just cliastisement. . . . But because I have
mercy . . . I v ;il first send to them a salutary and useful
confusion, that they may acknowledge their error and humble
tlicmselves; even as I did with the Jews and Gentiles, when
I sent them simple persons filled by Me with Divine wisdom.
Yes, I will send to them luomcn unlearned and by nature fragile,
but filled by My grace with courage and power. . . .
Wherefore, My daughter, do thou make haste to obey Me
without farther hesita ion, for I have a mission for thee to
fulfil, and it is My will that thou appear before the public.
Wheresoever thou mayest go in the future I will be with thee ;
I will never leave thee, but will visit thee and direct all thy
actions."

Catharine prostrated herself, and exclaimed, " Behold the
handmaiden of the Lord; be it unto me even as Thou
wilt.'' Immediately she joined the f-unily. Step by step,
as is His wont, the Lord led her. For a time she busied
herself in household duties with joyful service. Then came
the visits to the poor and needy and sick ; and when the
plague visited the city Catharine was foremost in works of
mercy, seeking out the most loathsome cases for her own
special care. Later, violent dissensions between rival powers
in the state caused much suffering, and for a time business
was suspended, and the city given up to revolution. As
Catharine matured and developed, she was often called to
mediate between these contending houses. Wives of banished
nobles sought her advice for their husbands, entreating her to
visit them at their chateaux in the country. Her manner with
those whom she visited in response to these calls, and those
who came to her for spiritual counsel, \ad a great charm in it.
io sucii siiC Vi'aS ciaughtcr, sister, m.ot'ier by turns j and as in
the absorption of heart and mind in her Ufe-call she appears

N! 3sn 01 a3iomis3d u

Catharhic of Siena.

present time
^ among those
ise, that My
about to visit
:caiise I have
:iry and useful
)r and humble
jcntilcs, wlicn
ivine wisdom,
nature fragile,
)wcr. . . .

to obey Me
n for thee to
re the public,
be with thee ;
direct all thy

"Behold the

-en as Thou

Step by step,

le she busied

Then came

ud when the

in works of

for her own

I rival powers
time business
'olution. As
;en called to
js of banished
eating her to

manner with
,11s, and those
[ charm in it.
IS ; and as in

II she appears

to have had no self consciousness, her Christian frankness and
simi)licity set all at ease. With much true r-jfrnement she
retained the simple manners of the peasant, and her country
men claimed her as "The people's Catharine," "Our lady of
inc Contrada d'Oca," "The daugliter of the Republic."

I]ut it was not only with individuals in i)rivatc that her work
lay. One who knew her describes how "he had seen her
address a multitude of two thousand persons in the street,
beseeching them for the love of Jesus to be at i)eace with each
otlier, and to search each into his own heart to discover there
any lurking egotism, and give up any selfish demand which
could only be gratified at the expense of his neighbour.
J'hosc who could not hear her voice were moved even to tears
by the beaming charity and sweetness of her countenance
while she spoke and i)leaded."

A life so unusual must of necessity pass through evil report,
jealousy and prejudice being especially the inciting causes.'
Catharine gave herself to prayer for her enemies. Among her
works of mercy was the regular visiting of the prisons, and she
frequently procured the release of political prisoners. To her
t'le soul of the noble and that of the plebeian were alike
precious ; and while to-day we find her preaching salvation
and a life of self denial to a learned doctor for whom she
has travailed two whole nights in prayer, to-morrow we see
her follow an outcast woman to her home, and after embracing
her tenderly sit down by her side, like a true woman, to plead
with her concerning the beauty and preciousness of that soul
which she is in danger of losing eternally. Catharine's cor-
respondence formed a large part of her work. Indeed, had
she not accomplished so much beside, it might well have been
her life work. So clear was her mind and so well defined her
messages that she could without any difficulty dictate to two
or duee secretaries at once. Her biographer writes that " her
letters to artisans and tradesmen were in the same terms as
those addresbcd to kings, cardinals, and popes, with rev-
erence and consideration combined withcurageous truthfulness,

Consecrated IVonun.

and when necessary, with severity, and addressing them alike
as 'most dear fathers in Christ.' She was a true rei)ublicau
in the sense that in her dealings with men as fellow sinners she
recognised no difference of rank." To Lernabos Visconti, the
lawless Duke of Milan, who was the execration of the sur-
rounding country, she writes, after first rebuking his vices :
" Oh resist not the Spirit of God which is calling you. Think,
oh think, that the blood and tears of the Divine Son are able
to cleanse you froni head to foot. Despise not this offer of
grace. LchoUl how God loves you. No tongue can tell, no
heart can conceive, the mercy and grace which will be granted
to you if you will but dispose yourself to rid your soul of
mortal sin. Humble yourself under the mighty liand of Goi,
and belie 'c in Jesus crucified for you." Again and again she
pleaded with liim not to neglect so great salvation, and it
would seem as if in his last days the remembrance of her teach-
ing had come back. When dying a prisoner in his wretched cell,
" unclean and uncared for," he would spend hour after hour in
gasping forth m agony the words, " Cor contritum et humilia-
(inn, DcuSy non ikspicics ! "

Resting upon the eternal Rock herself, Catharine pressed
upon all who were in the midst of the discord and the strife
to maintain a nuiet reliance upon God. The holy calm which
covered her , n encouragement to noble women whose
husbands were in tue thick of the conflict to find shelter in
the cleft of the same Rock. She writes to the wife of Senator
Mugliano, whose life was in danger during the Sienese revolu-
tion : *' It seems to me you have both been in great fear, but
that you have placed your hope in God and in the power of
prayer. I entreat you, in the name of Jesus, to continue firm
in this sweet and steadfast peace. My sister, fear nothing that
men can do, fear God only."

Catharine's dealings with individuals were varied in the ex-
treme. Her natural versatility was sanctified to the highest uses ;
and living in near communion with God and in consLant prayer,
large spiritual insight was given her to discern the needs of

Ni 3sn oi udi'jidibdd Lj

CatJiarinc of Siena.

ng them alike
rue republican
o\v sinners she
s Visconti, the
»n of the sur-
ing his vices :

you. Think,
2 Son are able
)t this offer of
je can tell, no
all be granted

your soul of
hand of Go.l,
ind again she
'ation, and it
e of her tcacli-
wretched cell,
r after hour in
/// et humilia-

arine pressed
and the strife
ly calm which
vomen whose
ind shelter in
ife of Senator
enese revolu-
;reat fear, but
the power of
continue firm
r nothing that

ied in the ex-
highest uses j
ibiant ]jrayei",
the needs of

(litfercnt souls. As in her letters so in personal intercourse
she was eciually at ease with rich and poor. With her young
disciples she was cheerful, often merry. .She had a (juick sense
of humour ; and when she saw her devoted followers needlessly
distressed because she was spoken against, she would reply
with a merry laugh. She understood the world well enough
to expect such usage. Catharine's love of flowers brought
much brightness into her life; she loved to join young maidens
in weaving lilies and roses and violets into wreaths and bou-
quets as presents to her friends. Even on her way to Avignon,
when hastening because cf the gravity of her mission, the
bright colouring of the masses of Alpine flowers from time
to time arrested her attention, and with her face all flushed
with pleasure she would call her companions to admire them
with her. How often the greatest souls are able most keenly
to enjoy simple pleasures ! Catharine's work in dealing with
souls was, at one time, so large that the Pope Gregory XI.
appointed her three helpers. One of them, "Father Ray-
mond," thus describes the time. "We worked all day, we
heard the confessions of men and women soiled with every
variety of crime. We sometimes remained fasting until the
evening (having no time to eat), and yet we were not able to
receive all who came. I acknowledge, to my shame, that the
multitude was often so great that I was fatigued and depressed ;
but as for Catharine, she never interrupted her prayers and
efforts, but rejoiced continually in conquering souls for her
Master, while she simply recommended her friends (AUessia
and the other mantcllatas) to take care of us and our material
wants, while •'^ held the nets which she knew so well how to
fill. The sight of her consoled us greatly and made us forget
our fatigues." " After the day's labour," writes the same faith-
ful helper, "' Catharine went up the hill rejoicing, to the old
Dominican church, and laid at the feet of her Lord and Sa""'our
the spiritual conquests of the day ; and there she would remain
till the sun had set and the stars lighted the sky, absorbed in
the contemplation of the love and power of Christ, and pouring

Coitsccmtcd Women.

out her soul ,n pniycr for the fuller accompllslmient of the
Kre.il promiscorthe Uccleeraer, the descent of the Holy .Sr,irit
l.renlhe on these slain/ she cried; and when, in answer to
her prayers there na, a great shaking among the multitude
for whom she prayed, she asked again 'that this multitude
mght stand on their f.et an exceeding great array'; and the
l),vn,e breath was felt, an.l n.any that were spirii.Lly i„ thd^
graves came forth." '

Jl^T "°',''"^" '°,."" °f ^" ''•^■^•'"8^ "'"■ "">'« «'ho,
Ins work. Among these, she found those who were to her
brothers and s.slers and sons and .laughters, bound to le
he.-,r by very tender ties. Son.e of these accompanied her on
her journeys, and laboured wiU, her in the gospel But our
sketch w, 1 be incomplete if we do not alludf Jr'ca.h:' H, "
ove .or the members of her own family. Her devotion to
those who were he- own nesh and blood is indeed, a bright
chapter m the Ron,ish calendar, in which we have so m.-r„y
records o hves torn from the parent stems, and brought, by
most cruel rendmg of God-given affections, into that apathetic
calmness winch ,s supposed, by the votaries of Rome, to be

eahz,P < the fulness of peace into which her honoured fathe
had entered. She k.ssed him and said : " Blessed be the Lord
God for tins entrance mto eternal life. How happy should 1
be, were I where thou art now, my father." Her beloved
mother was the cherished companion of many of Catharines

Terrvan -i;."^ "' '" '"'"' '- ""^--^ - -»^"" <>:

With her true, lender heart, Catharine could not fail to love
imie ch, dren, and parents would use every effort to gain admL
.on to her presence with their suffering little ones, k, ow .

res orat on M.uy sick persons wweat dilierent times restored
to health thrcMgh Cathari.te's prayers. Her biographer sa^sl

Niasfi oi ud±uiaibdd LJ

Cath

'/ na.

ishmcnt of the
ic Holy Spirit.
, in answer to
the nuiltitude
tliis multitude
my ' ; and the
itually in their

ith those who,
assist her in
> were to her
bound to her
panied her on
pel. But our

Catharine's
:r devotion to
leed, a bright
lave so many

1 brought, by
that apathetic

Rome, to be
's father died
iiained calm,
loured father
1 be the Lord
)py should I
Her beloved
f Catharine's

members of

)t fail to ]ove
) gain admis-
les, knowing
rers for their
mes restored
rapher says :

♦'She believed in the pu ,e 'the prayer '' li < uc

the sick,' and doubted not its fulfilnieni in .cr to .mest

prayer, /// ez'cry case in tchich that fuljU man :cas for i..' t^ood
of the sufferer and for the glory of Cod." Hut her most j.romi.
ncnt work seems to have been for souls.

We now come to that part of Catharine's life when be-
labours were no longer confined to her own neighbourhootl.

After the cessation of the plague the inhabitants of I'iso
desired to see Catharine. Tht-y sent a deputntion to Sieno
to invite her, holding out the attraction that her "presence
would be profitable to many erring souls." At first slic
doubted herself lest the motive for going should be simply
"her own instinctive love of journeying and adventure." J5ut
after seeking guidance of her Lord, and consulting with her
friends, she decided to go. This visit was a memorable one
to Catherine. At Pisa she entered into some of her deepest
trials of faith and into a yet deeper union with her Lord. She
was accompanied by her mother and by three or four other
devoted women, also by some of the fathers of St. Dominic
and by her fliithful secretary Neri, a young nobleman who had
been brought to Christ through her instrumentality. The two
brothers Luonconti, merchants, received her into their house,
and there she dictated to Neri and Father Raymond some of
her most stirring appeals to those in whose hands seemed the
destiny of the nation. Catharine had long been distressed
at the non-residence of the Pope. In this sh'^ saw the source
of most of the evils which were now visiting Italy. It was
in 1305 that Pope Clement V. removed the papal court to
Avignon, and Gregory XL was the si.xth Pope who had thus
resided m a foreign land. Italy was left a prey to the Pope's
emissaries, and to the discontented of manv nations who were
pouring into the country and selling themselves to serve under
wild, lawless captains. Among the wildest of these leaders
who were troubling the country was the P:nc^lishman Fawk-
vood, who in 1377 combined with the cruel Legate, "cardinal
Kobert, in putting down some of the cities which had joined

Conscawti'd IVonun.

in revolt a;;.-pnst papal oppression. The discords in her tluiii h
and country and the low state of morality Cviuscd unsji. .'..ihle
anguish to Catharine. She was as om* consumed with /cal for
the honour of licr Lord, and when she began to realize that in
her time the purification of the church would not be accom-
phshed she looked with the eye of failli into the future and
cried : "After these tribulations (lod will puri'y His church by
means unknown to man ; He will revive the souls of His elect
and tl'.e reformation of the church will be so beautiful that the
prospect of it fills my soul with joy." So does God the Father
comfort His beloved ones who cry unto Him day and night,
with glimpses of the glorious answers to their prayers when
their Lord " shall see of the travail of His soul and shall be
satisfied."

While at Pisa, Catharine visited the Carthusian convent at
Gorgon Island by re(iuest, and was persuaded to address the
large company of monks drawn up under the shade of the
olive trees before her and her companions. It must have
touched her deeply to look u[)on the faces of these lonely men,
living such a cold unnatural life. In breathless silence they
hung upon her words, which, coming from the depths of that
tender woman's heart, must have fallen upon their ears like an
echo of warm motherly and sisterly tones from the sunny days
of childhood. She spoke to them "saying what the Holy
Ghost inspired her to say in reference to the many illusions and
temptations to which solitaries arc liable, and concerning the
means of triumphing over them." She had not passed through
the trials and temptations incident to a highly sensitive nature
without having gained the power to sympathise with hearts
everywhere. As she ceased, the prior turned to Raymond and
whispered : " Dear brother Raymond, I am confessor of all
these brethren and disciples, and I know th . heart of each ;
and I assure you that if this saintly lady had herself heard all
their confessions, she could not have spoken in a more just
and suitable manner ; she perceived all their wants, and did
not utter a word which was not useful to them. It is evident

Nl 3Sf) Ul UdlJIdlbdd LJ

Catlianuc of Siena.

5 in her cluiri h
(1 uns]K.i'.,ihle
d with /cal for
I realize that in
not be accoin-
Ihe future and
I lis clnirth by
lis of His elect,
luliful that the
jod the Father
Jay and night,
prayers when
,1 and shall be

an convent at
:o address the

shade of the
It must have
se lonely men,
s silence they
depths of that
iir ears like an
he sunny days
/hat the Holy
ly illusions and
loncerning the
;)assed through
ensitive nature
ie with hearts
Raymond and
)nfessor of all
icart of each ;
;rself heard all
ii a more just
vants, and did

It is evident

lli.it she speaks by the inspiration of Cod." Is it not su( h
pi culling that is needed now, preai;hing thai is as a minor to
.. heart whose deep unuttered needs it meets? Can it be
said of the gencraHty of sermons that they do not contain a
word which iu not useful to the hearers ?

One or two circumstances which occurred during this visit
bring out Catharine's great dread of unsanctitied notoriety. On
one occasion she was taken very ill, and one of her friends
sought some wine to bathe her temples ; and it was reported
that to sui)ply this need some very sour wine had been miracu-
lously changed into the very best that could be produced. In
consecpience the peoi)lc crowded hy liiousands to see her, say-
ing : •' Go to, let us see who this woman is who drinks no wine,
and yet can miraculously fill the casks." She was much dis-
tressed, and prayed : '* Lord, why dost 'i'hou suffer me to be
covered with confusion in this way, before all the i)eople ?
Thou knowest that by an inspiration of Thy grace I have all my
life abstained from wine, and now wine is suffered to be the
cause of my being made ridiculous. I beseech Thee to put
this matter right, that all this foolish excitement may cease."

Very soon it was reported that the wine had become sour
again, and the crowd turned wildly against Catharine, much to
her amusement.

At another time, worn by illness, probably brought on by
distress of soul for her downtrodden country and dv.solated
church, she pressed all the harder af.oc a participation in the
sufferings of Christ. She spent hours daily in siLnt prayer ;
words failed her to tell of the deep travail of soul thioiigh
wiiich she was passing. The physical sufferings of the Lo'rd
were often in her mind for hours, and it seemed as if she could
not be satisfied without entering even into some realization of
these also. Her friends said : " We cannot follow her, we must
leave her alone with her Lord ; there is a mystery in His
dealings with her which we cannot fathom." Her biographer
auus : • Ana we at liiis day do well to ecno the words * we
cannot follow her, we must leave her alone with her Lord.' "

mmm

ifrrtwniii"

Consecrated Women.

It was wliile bowed before the crucifix, pleading for the salva-
tion of a soul, with the thought of the Lord's physical agony in
her mind, tluit she felt the piercing pain in hands and feet and
side wliich seemed to her the fulfilling of her desire. People
of highly strung nervous temperaments know what it is, when
hearing vivid descriptions of sharp, agonizing suffering, to feel
the corresponding nerves in their own bodies answer in some
degree to the sensation described. Was it wonderful that
Catharine, having mind and body always in severe tension,
should have this experience ? Immediately she besought the
Lord that the stigmata might not appear outwardly upon her
body. Her -wholesome fear in these things, seeing that she
had been educated in the midst of superstition, shows unmis-
takably the reality of her allegiance to her Divine Master.
The attitude of her soul was, " Not I but Christ."

Catharine and her friends returned to Siena in the autumn.
The most momentous event of her mature life was yet to
come, the visit to Avignon. But that which at present filled the
heart of this woman, who held all the sorrows of her nation as
her own, was the revolt against the Pope of one city after another.
The cruelty and rapacity of the legates knew no bounds.
Florence suffered terribly, and, goaded on by their extortion and
deceit, her people rose in fury and burned convents, forced the
prisons, and abolished the Inquisition in their city. Finally
an interdict was laid upon the city, business was stopped, the
churches were closed. Florence, usually so full of life and
brightness and commercial activity, became quiet and desolate.
Catharine was in correspondence with the revolted cities, and
she sought to do all in her power to restore prosperity to
Florence ; and it was specially in the interests of that city that
she consented to go to Avignon. She had previously written
to Gregory, pleading with him. " Consider," she writes,
" these two evils before you ; on the one hand your temporal
possessions, of which you are being deprived ; and on the other
the souls which are being lost to you. Which evil is the first ?
Open the eyes of your intelHgence, and look steadily at this

Ni 3sn 01 aai'jmi^da \j

CatJiarinc of Siena,

r the salva-
al agony in
id feet and
c. People
it is, ^vllc■n
ing, to feci
er in some
dcrful that
re tension,
^sought the
y upon her
g that she
Dws unmis-
ne Master.

he autumn,
was yet to
It fdled the
;r nation as
ter another.
10 bounds,
tortion and
, forced the
y. Finally
topped, the
of life and
id desolate,
cities, and
rosperity to
lat city that
Lisly written
she writes,
r temporal
)n the other
is the first ?
dily at this

mnttcr. You will then see, holy father, that of the two evils
the latter is by far the worst, and that it is more needfid for
you to win back souls than to reconquer your earthly posses-
sions. . . . Vou now place your confidence in your
soldiers, those devourcrs of human flesh ; and your good
(k^ircs for the reform of the church are hindered. Tlacc your
hope rather on Christ crucified and in the good government of
the church by virtuous pastors; let it please your holiness to
seek out true and humble servants of God as pastors in the
church, men who desire nothing but the glory of God and the
salvation of souls. Alas ! what corruption and confusion we
now see. Those who should be models of virtue and simplicity,
those who ought to be stewards of the wealth of the church
for the good of the poor and of erring souls, are a thousand
times more entangled in the hixuries and vanities of the
world than the laity ; for indeed many of the laity put the
pastors to shame by their pure and holy lives. ... It
seems that God permits the church to be robbed of her power
and wealth, in order to teach her that He wills her to return to
lier primitive state of poverty and humility, and of regard for
spiritual radier than temporal things ; for ever since she has
sought temporal possessions, things have gone from bad to
worse. It seems just indeed that He should permit her such
great tribulations." In their extremity, those who desired to
make terms with the Pope sent to Catharine, and she went to
Florence, where she remained for fifteen days, becoming
thoroughly acquainted with the complicated state of public
affairs. She then proceeded by land to Avignon. Several of
her most faithful adherents accompanied her, and her generous
fi lends the brothers Buonconti from Pisa joined her, and made
arrangements for the comfort of the travellers by the way.

On the iSth of June, 1376, Catharine reached Avignon,
where the palace of an absent cardinal was assigned to her
during her stay. After two days she was summoned before
the Pope in his palace, which stood on the summit of tlie
" Rock of the Domes," commanding a magnificent view of the

Consecrated Wovicn.

Rhone and of the surrounding country. The beauties and
glories of nature and art had been lavished upon the palace
and gardens. The hall of the consistory was rich in the
extreme ; here Catharine in her white serge gown and patched
mantle stood before the richly decked Pope and the not less
gorgeously attired cardinals. But she thought only of her
mission on behalf of poor distressed Florence, and in a clear
and masterly manner she placed the facts of the case before
the assembled council. Owing however to subsequent com-
I)]ications among the Florentine leaders, Catharine's pleading
was not at that time successful. Eventually the ban was
removed, and life and energy were restored to the beautiful
city. On one occasion Gregory requested Catharine to adtlress
the consistory on the subject of the church. As she spoke,
the unholy lives of many of the clergy in high authority came
under review; she asked why she found in the pontifical
court, in which all the virtues ought to flourish, nothing but
the contagion of the most disgraceful vices. Gregory asked
how she, who had so lately arrived, could have knowledge of
what went on at Avignon. Standing erect, she raised her thin
white hand to heaven and said : '' I declare in the name of
Almighty God, that I perceived more distinctly the horrors of
the sins which are committed in this court while I was yet in
my little room at Siena than even those do who are in the
midst of these vices." The Pope remained silent. " Even
after this," says her secretaiy Stephen, " Catharine frequently
delivered most eloquent addresses, as well as highly practical
ores, in the presence of Gregory and the cardinals ; and there
reigned so great an authority and so wonderful a grace in her
lips that all declared 'Never man spake like this woman,'
and many said ' It is not a woman who speaks but the Holy
S])int Himself.' " She also expounded to them the Scriptures,
which had gone out of use at Avignon, " and her insight and
clearness of interpretation astonished the learned doctors."

Weak and irresolute as Gregory was, he was of "blame-
less life." He was powerfully impressed by Catharine's earnest

Ni 3sn 01 aai'jmib'dd lj

Catharine of Siena.

I beauties and
on the palace
IS rich in the
n and patclicd
i the not less
It only of her
and in a clear
le case before
^sequent com-
■ine's pleading

the ban was
• the beautiful
rine to address
\s she spoke,
Jthority came
the pontifical
1, nothing but
aregory asked
knowledge of
•aised her thin

the name of
:he horrors of
: I was yet in
10 are in the
lent. " Even
nc frequently
ghly practical
Is ; and there
L grace in her
this Avoman,'
lut the Holy
lie Scriptures,
r insight and
doctors."
3 of "blame-
line's earnest

appeals to him on the subject of his return to Rome. One day
she was passing witli Raymond through the g^and suite of state
rooms which led to the Pope's apartments. She turned aside
to look at some of the exquisite art treasures which were every-
where around. She became absorbed in a rare manuscript.
Gregory approached, and stood by her for some time in silence.
At length he said, " It is here that I find repose for my soul,
in study and in the contemplation of nature." Catharine re-
sponded : " In the name of God, and for the fulfilment of duty,
you will close the gates of this magnificent palace, you will
turn your back on this beautiful country, and set out for Rome,
where you will be amidst ruins, tumults, and malaria fever."
The words penetrated the soul of the Pontiff, but it was with
sadness and anxiety that he looked towards an event which
he knew could only be reached through unparalleled difficulties.
Twenty-three of the cardinals were Frenchmen, and naturally
opnosed the removal from their native land. Many of the ladies
of the court at Avignon hated Catharine. At first they treated
her with contempt, but when they perceived her power and
influence, they sought, by putting on the guise of religion, to
gain access to her inner counsels. Catharine however had
clear insight, and when any, men or women, sought her society
from desire to entrap her, she was always on her guard. One
day three deeply learned prelates of high rank, who were ab-
sent on her arrival, sought an interview with her. Stephen
describes the visit, and tells how with biting words they en-
deavoured to wound and irritate her, and how she replied with
such wisdom that though the conference lasted for hours they
could not find any fault in her, and told the Pope that they
had never found " so humble and enlightened a soul." He
sternly rebuked them for visiting her in such a critical and
uncourtcous spirit.

It seemed at one time as if Catharine's appeals to the
Pope touching his return to Rome would be frustrated by
the wiles of the cardinals. The hour of disappointment is
thus eloquently described by her biographer. "Tried to

Consecrated Women,

the utmost by the weakness and vacillation oi' the Pope,
. . . Catharine withdrew for a season from his presence,
and was no longer seen in the Vraican of the * Rock of the
Domes.' She entered into the secret presence of her Saviour,
and her soul passed once more through that baptism of
strong desire, of tears and of passionate intercession, by the
strength of which she ever acliieved her wonderful conquests
in the kingdom of grace and over the souls of men with whom
persuasion and argument had f:iiled. In those solitary iiours
lier gaze was fixed far beyond the present, and her heart em-
braced all the sorrows of earth, while, like tlie prophets of old,
she prayed that the great deliverance might be hastened, and
cried to Tlim who is the ' Desire of ail nations,' ' luen so.
Lord Jesus, come quickly.'" Gregory, who had become
troubled at her absence, sent for Catharine, and asked her
advice concerning his return to Rome. She kept silence. At
last the Pope said, " I command you in the name of obedience
to tell me what is the will of God in this matter." She bowed
her head and replied, " Who knows more perfectly than your
Holiness, who has pledged himself by a secret vow ? " Gregory
was alarmed, for he believed that no one knew of his secret
vow, taken when under the influence of the letters of St.
liridget, Queen of Sweden. He now took his resolve. At
Catharine's instigation he ceased to speak on the subject to
the cardinals and court, but committed the preparations for
the departure of himself and his court into the hands of the
Duke of Anjou and faithful servants. The Duchess of Anjou
had become attached to Catharine at Avignon, and both she
and her husband became sincere followers of the Crucified One.
Catharine desired to leave as soon as all was arranged, but
Gregory would not allow her to depart an hour before himself.
She spent the interval in writing. Among the many letters
written at this time are two private ones of much interest. To
the mother of her young secretary, Stephen Maconi,she wrote;
"Take courage, dear lady; be patient, and do not distress
yourself because I have kept him too long. J. have watched

Ni 3sn 01 adi'jiHib'dd Lj

Calhar'uie of Siena,

oi* the Pope,

his jircsence,
' Rock of the
f lier Saviour,
t baptism of
ession, by the
•fill conquests
III witli whom
solitary hours
her heart cm-
ophets of okl,
liastened, and
s,' * P>en so,

had become
id asked her
t silence. At

of obedience
She bowed
tly than your
>v?" Gregory
of his secret
etters of St.

resolve. At
ic subject to
parations for
hands of the
ess of Anjou
.nd botii she
rucified One.
arranged, but
fore himself,
many letters
nterest. To
li, she wrote;

not distress
ave watched

over him well, for affection has made of us two but one, and
all your interests arc mine. I wish to do for him and for you
all that I can, even to death. You, his mother, have borne
him once ; and I — I travail again in birth, every day, not for
him only, but for you and all your family, offering to God
without ceasing, and with tears and anguish, my strong desire
for your salvation."

To her own mother, who also deplored her absence, she
writes. " If I have remained, my beloved mother, it has been
by the will of God, and not by my own or by the will of man.
It" any one tells you to the contrary, he is mistaken; for I tell
you the truth. I must follow the path which God indicates to
me by His providence ; and you, my dear sweet mother, you
ought to be content and not unwilling to suffer somcthinf^ for
the honour of God. . . . Remember how you used to act
when it was a question of our temporal interests, when your
sons often took long journeys, and were absent for a length of
time on business, and in order to make money ; and now, when
it is a question of the things which concern our eternal life, you
pine so much and tell me you will die if I do not soon come
home. This is because you love the mortal part of me more
than the immortal part."

During Catharine's stay at Avignon she worshipped at the
little chapel attached to her residence. She had a keen ap-
preciation of music, and we might have expected her to en-
joy the gorgeous ritual of the Vatican church, but the service
was overlaid with so much merely to ravish the natural taste,
that it did not meet the needs of her soul. Once she at-
tended there, but her "spirit was perplexed and her senses
confused."

From Avignon Catharine went direct to Genoa, where she
and her friends had to wait more than a month. They were
hospitably entertained at the house of one of her disciples,
an honourable lady, Orietta Scott.

Cutharines presence was needed to cheer Gregory on his
landing, and to encourage him to go forward. With opi)osing

KHMMtiM

Consccrixtcd Women,

elements on every hand, for even tlie winds and waves were
against him for many days, it was a hard battle for him to make
up his mind to rc-cnibark. Catharine prayed ; and her prayers
were answered. Gregory came to her by night alone, v.'rapi)cd
in his cloak, to ask of her this time not only wise counsels, but
power through her prayers to obey those counsels." The lady
Orietta Scott, also Father Raymond and others, were present at
the interview, during which Catharine once more urged upon
the Pope his duty to press through all obstacles to attain the
object in view. When he took leave of her she remained on
her knees pleading with Heaven until the morning.

Catharine returned to her little room at Siena, from the soli-
tude of which she continued to urge Gregory to begin those
reforms which were indispensable for the good of the church,
of the nation, and of the city which he had found so deso-
lated. Florence was still a source of anxiety to Gregory, and
he sent for Catharine to go to that city, saying : " I wish that
she should go, because she is a woman ; for, because she is
a woman and because of the great veneration they have for
her character, they will take care not to harm her and will
listen to her advice."

During this third visit to Florence, Catharine was in the
midst of the severest conflict ; law was set at nought and tumult
raged. She was able to influence the more sober part of the
community for a season, but the time came when, during an
insurrection among the wool-carders, the insurgents sought her
life. When every refuge had failed Catharine freely offered
herself to die, assuring the leader of the mob that " no harm
would come to them from any of her friends." The man
turned away, taking his followers with him. Catharine shed
tears while all beside rejoiced. "She had not been counted
worthy of martyrdom." " She was touched by the sorrows of
these poor people in their misguided zeal." She retreated to
the Convent Vallombrossa in the neighbourhood, returning
to Florence when the ban was takmi fmm t-he c' '- " '—f.^
consummation which slie had largely helped to bring about.

Ni 3sn oi udi'jidibdd Lj

d waves were
)r him to make
nd her prayers
lone, wrapped
I counsels, but
s." The lady
•ere present at
e urged upon
to attain the
remained on

from the soli-

J begin those

Df the church,

•und so deso-

Gregory, and

" I wish that

•ecause she is

they have for

her and will

e was in the

ht and tumult
r part of the
en, during an
Its sought her
freely offered
at " no harm
" Tlie man
itharine shed
)een counted
le sorrows of
retreated to
od, returning

bring about.

Catharine of Siena. 35

Before this time Gregory had died, and the ratification of the
peace was signed by his successor, Urban Vf.

During the few months which remained to Catharine after she
returned to Siena she completed her work, " The Dialogue,"
and wrote letters to Italian politicians and ecclesiastics in the
interests of Urban. This ponti.T, having known Catharine at
Avignon, requested her to come to his aid in the difficulties that
met him in the way of reform. She wrote to him that her friends
complained that she travelled too much, and that she must have
his command to enable her to go. This she soon received,
and immediately prepared to set out. More than forty persons
accompanied her, among them the aged Lapa. Catiiarine
begged her companions to agree to live in great simplicity at
Rome, that by their example they might rebuke the lavish
habits of the time. On leaving Siena, as it proved for the last
tmie, her biographer tells us " she turned and gazed long upon
Its loved walls and towers, the grassy slopes falling from its
ramparts, and the winding roads and paths so familiar to her
childhood. Offering up a prayer for the peace of her fellow
citizens, she turned her face towards Rome." She arrived
there in the autumn of 137S, and soon after was sent for by
Urban, who called her to address the assembled consistory on
the present distress of the church, especially with reference
to the schism (the disaffected French cardinals having just
elected an anti-pope, called Clement VII.) ''She ^poke
learnedly and at some length, exhorting all to constancy and
nrmness."

Upon one point Catharine laid great stress, viz. the gather-
ing together at Rome of holy men and women who should
give stability to the church by showing before the world
pure and holy lives, and should in other ways uphold the
Pope m his work of reform. Although Urban was less zealous
than Catharine had hoped, he loved the society of the good

and he gave her a brief, empowering her to invite to Rome
who"! =]•>£» .,.^,,i,j cu,. .. _ . .1

wiij... ^.1.^ .rOuiu. .jiic -.viuie 10 mose whom she thought

most suited to the emergency, and some responded with joy

.^.6

Consecrated Women.

even at mucli cost. Others were reluctant. Her remon-
strances to these may be adapted for the teaching of the
churcli now as much as tlien. " Tliis is a sifti g time, one
wliich shows us who are true servants of God, av:a who are the
self seekers who love God only because of the consolation
brought to their own souls. Such i)ersons lock around them
and pronounce where spiritual comfort and consolation are
to be found and where they are not to be found; they seem to
imagine that God is in this place, and not in that. It is not as
they imagine j for I perceive that, to the true sen'ant of God,
all i)laccs and all times are acceptable. When the time comes
fur him to leave his spiritual enjoyments and undertake labour
and fatigues for God, the true servant does not hesitate. . .
'i 'iie rule of ihe true saints has always been to come forward
in times of necessity and misfortune ; but not in times of pros-
l)erity, for they fly such times. . . . It is asserted that if
you come here you will lose the habit of devotion, and that
you could no longer give yourselves up to prayer. You must
'>o very slightly established in devotion if a change of residence
would cause you to lose the habit of prayer. It seems that
God takes account of places then, and that He is only to
be found in woods and solitudes, even in times of public
Cccessity."

There was little rest for Catharine till she entered upon the
/ligher service of the courts above. The adherents of Clement
were continually menacing Rome, the battle of Marino was the
result, and Rome had once more a short season of peace.
Then came internal discontent and discord, partly caused by
the harshness of the Pope. Yet it was his calmness when,
alone and unarmed, he stood before the insurgents, that
quelled their passions and brought them to their senses
Catharine was praying, and the result of the battle and the
staying of the insurrection were attributed to her prayers.
She lamented to see the church resorting to arms, and slie

ilCVv-i %.tdj\.a ILr ji.i|-[^ii>.ivt(_ vjUU Itio.'. m-wDC niuUiULlOllo IlllgJit

cease. After the battle of Marino Catharine appeared con-

Ni 3sn o± Ur<±'jidibdd LJ

Catharine of Siena.

Her remon-
:hing of the
g time, one

who are the

consolation
around them
isolation are
ihcy seem to

It is not as
,'ant of Clod,
: time comes
^rtakc labour
;itate. . .
)nic forward
imcs of i^ros-
:rted that if
Dn, and that
You must
of residence

seems that
; is only to
IS of public

id upon the
; of Clement
rino was the
n of peace.
y caused by
aness when,
rgcnts, that
heir senses
tie and the
ler prayers,
ms, and she

.tiOiiS ITiiglit

)earcd con-

«;taiuly in the city. She consulted with the magistrates daily,
indeed "' no measure of importance was adopted without her
counsel." Citizens in aiuhority visited her. The chiefs of
the army sought her advice, and the sick and wounded looked
eagerly for her daily visit. Every day she Avent to St. Peter's
.0 pray for the city; she spent the nights in prayer. The
people in the streets loved to look upon her face lighted with
smiles. Yet her body was wasting away, and the end was near.
Still she remembered and wrote to her spiritual children at a
distance. Her last written prayer for these breathes the ten-
derest affection and the most ardent desires for their preserva-
tion. An accident seems to have hastened her death, and
may have caused the terrible suffering of the last weeks. She
accepted the agony as special proof of her Father's love. Her
confessions, not to man but to her Lord, when she thought
the end approaching, are most touching. In that solemn hour
she saw the shortcomings of her life in view of that perfect life
which she had placed before her as her model. Then she asked
pardon of all around. " My beloved, I have indeed hungered
and thirsted for your salvation. . . . Nevertheless, I may
liave been wanting to you in many thin-s; not only have I
not sot before you the highest example, but in regard to your
temporal wants I have not been so faithful and attentive as I
ought to have been."

We give a portion of her last charge to her spiritual sons and
daugliters ; it contains clear and simple directions touching the
life of consecration. She told them " that any one who desired
to be truiy the servant of God, and wished really to possess
Him, must strip his heart of all selfish love of luiman crea-
tures, and with a simple and entire heart must approach God •
that no soul can arrive at such a state except through the medium'
of prayer founded on humility ; that no one should have any
confidence m his own works, but acknowledging himself to be
nothing should commit himself entirely to the keeping and

Icndinff nf r,nA

; tnat in orucr to attain to purity of

conscience it is necessary to abstain from all rash judgments

Covsccratcd ]Vomcu.

and evil speaking against our neighbours; that \vc nuist
nciilicr condcnni ncjr despise any creature, even if it be one
whom we know to be guilty and vile, bui to bear with him
and pray for him, because there is no one, however sinful, who
may not amend his life ; that we must exercise a perfect trust
in the providence of God, knowing that all thii.gs that haj'pcn
to us through this Divine providence sjmng, not from His ill-
will to His creatures, but from His infmite love for them."
She gave advice and directions to individuals, and turning to
her aged mother, said, " Pardon my faults towards yourself, my
best beloved, and give me your blessing." The narrator adds :
"I would that you had seen with what respect and humility
she repeatedly asked the benediction of her aged mother,
while that hiolher in return commended herself to the prayers
of her daughter, and besought her to obtain for licr the grace
not to offend God by the bitterness of her grief. Catharine
again i)raycd aloud for us all ; and so tender and humble were
her words that we thought our hearts would cleave asunder."
After the administration of extreme unction, an accession of
illness came on. Satan took advantage of the fevered state of
the brain to bring accusations against her; but even in her
partial delirium he could not wholly deceive her. Once she
smiled and said, " No, never ; never for vain glory, but for
the honour of God." Many worldly peoi)le had believed that
stie sought her own glory in life : hence the value of this
testimony in the hour of death. As the mind became clearer
she ceased to answer her accuser, and instead turned to her
Lord, repeating fifty or sixty times, " Peccavi, nomine, miserere
meV \ and her Lord restored to her the consciousness of
His presence. Once again she prayed for those whom God
had given her. "I pray not that Thou shouldest take
them out of the world, but that Thou shouldest keep them
from the evil. Sanctify them through Thy truth ; Thy word is
truth." Several times she exclaimed, " Oh, precious Saviour !
precious blood ! "■ She then said, •'•' Father, into Thy hands 1
commit my spirit " ; and with her face radiant with reflected

Ni d^i I u± ud±jia±b=ia Lj

Catharine of Siena.

lat \\c must
I if it be one
jar with him
;r sinful, who
perfect trust
that ha]'i)cn
from His ill-
z for them."
d turning to
yourself, my
irrator adds :
md humility
ged mother,
• the prayers
;r the grace
■ Catharine
humble were
ve asunder."
accession of
■ered state of
even in her
Once she
lory, but for
believed that
•aluc of this
:ame clearer
rned to her
tine, miserere
:iousness of
: whom God
mldest take
keep them
Thy word is
ais Saviour !
I'hy hands I
ith refiected

glory she passed into His immediate presence, on the evening
of the 29th of April, 1380, aged thirty-lliroe years.

Some will say of this life, It is too highly coloured ; wc do
not believe in it. We can only reply. We believe that the
accomp'. ,hed author of the Memoir of Catharine of Siena has,
through many dillkultics, carefully sought to recover the true
picture. Out of a large mass ot accumulated rubbish she has
gu '.ered the fragments, and, as far as was possible, rubbed
off the gilding with which mediaeval hands had overlaid the
original. She has put together these fragments piece by picfo,
and she presents to us a figure which we fmd it good and help-
ful to look upon. Further, we have the saint's own writings,
and from her thoughts and counsels we are assured that one
who could thus pourtray the heights and depths, the needs and
the consolations, of spiritual life must have passed throu-h
deep and difficult cxijerienccs, needing the strongest faiiii,
and the most constant watching, and the attitude of unceasing
prayer.

And as we close the book wc feel that wc liave seen wliat
are the elements rccjuired to make up a consecrated life, and
we ask, " What one is, why may not millions be ? "

For the commonest, most obscure life, may be crowned with
heavenly glory, if only the redeemed child who lives it be
faithful in all known duties, smaller and larger, unwearied in
watching, instant in prayer.

Upon such an one, no less than upon the more prominent
s:iiiit, will the sentence be pronounced : " Wei! done, good and
Iviithful servant ; enter thou into the joy of thy Lord."

Nl 3Sn Ul Udl'JIdXbdd

"yinr.iv.s .tBocr/VD/NG/ivr///- uvrk of tub

LOKDr

SUSANNA WESLEY and AMELIA SFEVEKING.

There arc briers bcsctling erery path^

That call for patient care ;
7here is a eross in erery lot,

And an earnest tieed for prnyer ;
B} y Io7oly heart that leans on Ihee

"■■ ^I'-^ppy anyiohere.

A. T-. Warino,

" That which is of importance in the sight of God is not the
position, but the disposition. . . . Thus Scripture contents
itself with pointing out the works of those holy women whom it
sets forth as models to their sex, without explaining their social
and domestic relations, so that we are often obliged to imagine
them. That Eunice was both a wife and ? mother, in order to give
to the apostle the most valued of his fellow-labourers ; that Pris-
cilla, we are allowed to suppose, was a wife without being a mother,
that she might follow her husband from place to place in the
service of the gospel ; that Phebe appears to have been neither
wife nor mother, that she might be at liberty to carry her activity
from church to church ; and that with regard to Dorcas we are not
able to form any conjecture : these things in the Scripture are of
secondary importance, it is sufficient that there was in each of
these a faithful heart."—" IJ^cf/m/i, her Mission ajid her Life" by
Adoiphe Monod,

Nl asn Ul Ud±JldXbda LJ

II.l

od is not the
nure contents
3men whom it
ig their social
ed to imagine
n order to give
^rs ; that Pris-
)eing a mother,
) place in the
e been neither
ry her activity
•cas we are not
nipture are of
■as in each of
i her Life," by

SUSANNA WESLEY,
Born 1670. Died 1742,

AND

AMELIA WILIIELMINA SIEVEKING,
Born 1794. Died 1859.

THERE has sometimes been a question whether the single
or the married life of a woman affords the greatest
cp])ortunity for usefulness. A good deal may be said on both
sides, witi\out perhaps any definite decision being come to. It
is sometimes easier to answer a difficult question by means of
ilkistration than in any other way, and two biograpiiies I have
been reading seem to me to throw considerable light on the
question of the married life and the single. Not, certainly,
by way of deciding definitely which has the greatest capacity
for usefulness ; but proving very clearly that according as either
life is lived in loyal and loving obedience to the revealed law
of duty, will its capacities for usefulness be quite infinite.
These lives of which I have spoken, so different in outward
circumstance, so similar in spirit, and both so abundantly-
productive of good, were those of the wife of a poor clergyman
in Lincolnshire, and of a single lady of limited means and few
external attractions, in the city of Hamburg.

' I'.xtractetl from the Frkr.ds' Quarterly Exat'iine> i Paper, entitled
"The Married Life and the Single," by Hannah M. Wighum. By per
mijsion of the Author.

Consecrated Women.

'1 he first of these was Susaxna Wksli: v ; and if it is true,
as has so often I)ecn said, tliat great men liavo ahiiost always
remarkable mothers, may we not believe that many of the
excellencies of tl:e founder, and of the sweet singer, of
Wesleyan Methodism may be traced to a lowly origin^n' the
heart of their mother? Certainly no one can read her bio-
graphy, and doubt that her diligent training, her excellent sense
and her i)rayerful, watchful life, influenced greatly the lives and
characters of her sons, and through them who shall say how
wide that influence has been !

Susanna Wesley was the wife of a clergyman, whose income
never exceeded ^200 a year. They were married about the
year 1700, and had nineteen children, of whom ten died in
their infancy; yet with the nine left it might be supposed the
mere struggle for subsistence and the cares attending on such
a family would have proved an excuse for some neglect of
their mental training on the part of the mother. ]Jut before we
inquire if such an excuse were needed, let us consider some
of the circumstances that surrounded her.

Her husband was an excellent but eccentric man, too much
engaged in the duties of his pastoral office, r- . ^x literary
pursuits, to give very much assistance in the ea- 1; . iucation of
the children.

The i)arish of Epworth, where the greater part of their lives
was spent, is situated in a part of Lincolnshire known as The
Island ; at that period the resort of a peculiarly wild and
lawless ])opulation, upon wiiom the learning and scholarship of
Samuel Wesley produced little effect, though his earnestness
and fliithfulness through many years of thankless toil probably
prepared the ground for a noble harvest in the future. His
parsonage was twice burnt (it was believed by incendiaries, in
revenge for some difference of opinion in political matters) ;
and on another occasion the good man was taken off to prison'
by some powerful adversary, for a small debt which a little
forbearance would have enabled him to pay. These troubles
as may be supposed, fell heavily on the noble wife and mother'

Ni 3sn ui udijidxbdd LJ

ind if it is true,
J almost al\va)3
It many of the
r'cct singer, of
■ly origin in the

1 read her bio-
excellent sense,

:Iy the lives and
) shall say how

, whose income
Tied about the
m ten died in
e suj)posed the
ending on such
:)me neglect of
Jiut before we
consider some

nan, too much
vi: -.n literary
i; . iucation of

t of their lives
known as The
\r\y wild and
scholarship of
lis earnestness
i toil probably

2 future. His
ncendiaries, in
Lical matters) ;
I off to prison,
which a little
ncse trouDics,
e and mother.

Stisanna Wesley and A. IF. Sicz'iking. 45

The second conflagration took place in the night ; the family
were aroused from their slumbers by the cry of " Fire ! " but,
after great exertions, it was believed all the living treasures
were safe. Suddenly, however, it was found that one lovely
little boy, of about six, was sleeping alone in a room which had
not been entered. The father endeavoured to force his way to
it, but was met by volumes of smoke and hissing flames; the
staircase fell, and thus all access from within was cut off, and
the father, in his agony, knelt down to commend the soul
of his child to God. Meanwhile, the little one had been
awakened by a red gleam on the walls, and, after attempting
■ 1 vain to escape by the door, he ran to the window, where the
little white figure was espied by some kind people who had
Uhered below. " (}o for a ladder ! " cried one. " There is
no time," answered his neighbour ; " but mount on my shoulder
and open the casement." It was done, and the child borne
safely from the very jaws of the fire into his parents' arms.
\\\\\ might they kneel down and thank God when they saw
their children all safe about them ; and well might this son, in
;iricr years, when his fame as John Wesley was world-wide,
describe himsei: as literally, as well as spiritually, '-'a brand
plucked from the burning." Thus wave after wave of trouble
swept over the heads of this noble pair, but the anchor of their
faith held fast.

It was some time before their parsonage was rebuilt, and
the family, which had been perforce dispersed, was re-collected.
M length, however, this was accomplished, though it was
fuund that^ some good had been lost by the children during
the dispersion ; and something like quiet settled down around
ihem, not undisturbed certainly, for now occurred the episode
of the I':pworth ghost, too well known to need descrijlion
here. Notwithstanding "old Jeffrey's" movements, however
the work of training and education went steadily on. Mrs.
Wesley was almost the sole instructress of her daughtersj and
of her sons also, with the exception of the classical lessons
given to both by their father, until the sons were ready fur

Consecrated IVomen.

college. Ilcr methods were peculiar, and might not be
necessary or possible in all instances, though eminently success-
ful in this. Strict discipline was of course of the first ntiportan ce
among such a number, in so limited a space, and when so
little help of any kind was to be had. For instance, no child
was permitted to cry aloud after the age of one year ; and
strict rules as to food and sleep, etc., were enacted. Perfect
honesty, uprightness, and truthfulness were enforced ; reverence
for their superiors, and just, as well as kindly feeling among
themselves, and courtesy towards those of a humbler class ot
life, were strictly inculcated.

Regular school hours and lessons were observed, and, as
an instance of Mrs. Wesley's indefatigable zeal and industry,
it is told that, not satisfied with any manual of religious
instruction within her reach, she prepared one herself for the
use of her children, showing a wonderful mastery of thought
and reasoning, and leading to an intelligent appreciation of
the foundation and requirements of their faith. Her own
T,ractice was to spend two hours daily in private and special
prayer and communion with her God. Here we have one of
the secrets of her strength, and of the calmness ot soul which
enabled her to accomplish her daily work. She trained her
children to a similar habit suited to their years ; sending
them two and two to their chambers at a certain hour for
Bible reading and prayer, the eldest with the youngest m charge,
and so on. She also made a point of having a special reh-
cious conversation with at least one of them every day, taking
Them in regular course ; and by this means, and afterwards
through correspondence, she maintained unbroken the bonds
of confidence between her children and herself, keeping open
as it were the pathway between their hearts and her own
along which travelled many a loving word of counsel, ot

warning,

wtuuu ■, or of cheer. Few things perhaps arc more touch-
iiYAy beautiful than to see how her sons, as young and strong
men, applied to her for help and advice in their spiritual
embarrassments and ditlicuities, how ihcy poured out tneir

Nl 3Sf 1 oi udiJia-Lbda LJ

Susanna Wesley and A. IT. Sicvckuig. 47

;ht not be
ntly success-
\ importance
nd when so
ice, no child
e year ; and
cd. Perfect
d ; reverence
cling among
bier class of

:ved, and, as
md industry, |
, of religious I
;rsclf for the I
-y of thought I
)preciation of |
1. Her own |
e and special |
: have one of |
of soul which I
2 trained her 1
irs ; sending \
tain hour for 1
jest in charge,
I special reli-
ry day, taking
nd afterwards
:en the bonds
keeping open
and her own,
if counsel, ot
; more touch-
mg and strong
tlK;r spiritual

OUl LiiCU rs

troubles into her willing ear, and were animated by her words
and the unspeakable yearnings of her soul for their welfare.

Nor was this excellent woman unmindful of the condition of
her poorer neighbours. Wiien her husband was absent on
Church affairs in London, and service in the church was held
only once on the Sunday, she made it a practice to invite a
few of the people about, to join in her family reading with her
children in the kitchen of the parsonage. This became so
popular that her room was soon crowded, and she was almost
startled at her own work. She read to them the best sermons
she could find in her husband's library, and at length the
people begged they might remain during the family worship,
which she also conducted during the absence of her husband.
Some exaggerated account of all this reached the cars of the
worthy man, and he wrote in great alarm ; but she was so con-
vinced that she was doing rightly and usefully that she said m
reply, after explaining how simple the whole thing was, that if
he still wished her to abstain he must command her to do so,
and then she should think it her duty to submit.

Thus, amid labour and prayer, wifely submission and family
love, life passed away in this remote parsonage among the fens
ot Lincolnshire; till at length, one by one, the sons left their
home, some of the daughters married, and the father was laid
down to rest in the quiet churchyard that surrounded the scene
of his life-long labours. Then Mrs. Wesley went forth, still in
outward poverty, and found a home with one or other of her
children, until her turn too came to " go across the river."
She continued to be their best eavthly guide and counsellor,
and was soothed in return by their devoted love and filial
care. She had the happiness of believing that all her children
(though to them, as to herself, life had anything but a thornless
path to offer) were conscious heirs of a better and more en-
during inheritance. Some of them she saw prominently and
extensively useful to a degree that has not often been equalled,
and at her peaceful falling asleep she had the joy of believing
that throur-h the riches of redeeming love, she would be per-

Consecrated Woniciu

mittcd to rejoin or to welcome every one of her nlnelceu
children in the belter world to which she was hastening.

Of the life of Amelia Wilhf.lmina Sieveking (which, in its
outward circumstances, forms so great a contrast to that of
Mrs. Wesley) I shall only record a few of the more i)rominent
features, which will introduce an extract or two from her ad-
mirable letters. The perusal of the whole biography is an
enjoyment of no common kind. She was born at Hamburg in
the year 1794, and seems to have been connected through hfe
with an influential and cultured circle. Her parents died
while she was very young, and she sufiered from a feeling of
loneliness and want of sympathy, and also from a sense of her
deficiency in external accomplishments and attractions. Her
two brothers were her chief playmates. The elder remained
her faithful friend through life ; the younger, to whom she was
almost passionately attached, and whose nobility of character
and enthusiastic devotion to the true and the good justified
his sister's affection, just as life was opening before him in a
long vista of brilliance and usefulness, was called " up higher "
to that better wodd on which his eye was steadily fixed ; leav-
ing a blank in Amelias heart that was nevor wholly filled,
r.iit, instead of giving way to the hopelessness of grief, -he
raised to his memory the holiest of all monuments, in a re-
newed ded'cation of soul and life to the objects for which it
had been his desire to live.

She writes to an intimate friend of this beloved brother :
««What I say to his most intimate friends is, that what he pro-
mised to the world, and could not fulfil, they must now carry
out, so that his spirit may not have passed wholly away from
among us. Let a noble and sacred covenant be thus made
over his grave. I would fain hold out my hand to all who
were near to his heart, and bid them join with me i . this

bond."'

3'erhaps in this baptism of sorrow into a purer and nobler
consecration we may read the fulfilment of her own later

Ni 3sn 01 a3rjid±sda lj

Susanna IVrs/cy and A. TV. Sicvcking. 49

ninelccu

IS-

icb, in its

lliat of
)romincnt
11 lier ad-
)1iy is an
unburg in
rough life
Mils died

feeling of
ISC of her
)ns. Her

remained
m slie was
f character
d justified

1 him in a
ip higher "
ved ; Icav-
olly filled.

grief, she
:?, in a re-
r wliich it

i brother:
lat he pro-
now carry
away from
thus made
to all who
me i . this

md nobler
own later

bclit'f : " The Eternal Love can never take away without i:;i:iii(;
in return, and giving something fairer and higher than has
been taken."

r.y degrees the craving of her heart for love, or rather for
some object on which to pour out the pent-up treasures of her
heart, found relief in the work of teaching young girls, which
she undertook as her life's task. It was with her wholly a
work of love; though by no means in affluent circumstances,
she always refused, whether wisely or not, to accept pecuniary
compensation for her labours.

It was her plan to receive a class of ten or twelve girls ot
her own rank, and carry them forward in their studies till the
age for confirmation; and then, after a very short recess,
commence with another set. This teaching and intercourse
with young bright spirits were the joy and delight of her life,
and, next to the Divine influence which sprang up as a well of
water unto eternal life in her soul, were probably the means of
preserving the youth and freshness of her inner being ; and
this her labour of love was the last earthly work in which she
engaged. Through all she maintained the subjective principle,
and thus writes : ** When I consider what is the thing most
needed to enable us to educate others well, it seems to mc to
be that u<e should constants educate ourselves. The neglect of
this great point is often, 1 1. ink, the reason why people who
study really excellent works on education yet turn out their
children such perverted beings ; while others, who perhaps
never dreamt that there is such a thing as an art of educa-
tion at all, live to have great satisfaction from their sons and
daughters. But this latter class must have been trained by
religion carefully to watch over themselves, and avoid every
shadow of evil, for most true it is that example is stronger than
precept."

It was, however, through clouds of doubt and darkness,
partial unbelief, and also of some disappointment and trial, that
the spirit of this noble woman won its way to the serenity and
hvippy activity of her middle and later life. By degrees, and

Consecrated JVcmicn,

through various and some apparently unlikely means, the 'ife
of her soul was developed, or rather the life of Christ within
her soul ; for she came to know and believe her Saviour's love
and the Father's love He came to manifest, and then her soul
sat down, like Mary, in blessed content at His feet ; and as
she sunned herself in this all-perfect love, it became her
delight to follow in His steps.

The darling project of her life was the formation of Pro-
testant sisterhoods. She believed that in such communities the
struggling and too often buried germs of love and benevolence
in the hearts of isolated women might be fostered and de-
veloped ; germs too often choked at first by timidity and irre-
solution, and afterwards utterly withered in an atmosphere of
littleness or frivolity ; and that thus there would be immense
gain both to individual character and to the world at large. It
did not fall to her lot to take any active part in the accom-
plishment of this idea ; but she had the satisfaction of seeing
it carried out by others very much in accordance with her
wishes. When the cholera broke out in Hamburg, in 1831,
Miss Sieveking devoted herself to serve in the hospital, where
she lived entirely for eight weeks, fulfilling all the duties of a
nurse, and showing how these duties may and ought to be per-
formed. This novel and, at that time, unwonted act was met
by much disapproval and opposition. She appealed to other
ladies for co-operation, but met with no response; but the
noble and Christian way in which she carried through her
resolution soon disarmed all opposition, and won for her the
warm gratitude of all with whom she came in contact.

It was during some leisure time, when the epidemic was
passing away, that she employed herself in planning out and
drawing up rules for the formation of a society for the care of
the sick and poor of her native city. Several ladies joined her
in carrying out this purpose, but she retained the direction in
her own hands ; and this, along with much actual labour in
visiting and relieving the poor, added to her teaching (both
her own special classes and some poor children as well), and

Ni 3sn 01 QBi'jmibdd Lj

,ns, the 'Ife
rist within
ioiir's love
;n licr soul
et ; and as
came her

on of Pro-
unities the
;ncvolcnce
d and de-
y and irre-
losphere of
c immense
.t large. It
he accom-
i of seeing
: with her
J, in 1831,
•ital, where
duties of a
: to be per-
:t was met
i to other
2; but the
irough her
or her the
t.

demic was
ig out and
the care of
joined her
lirection in
labour in
hing (both
well), and M

Siisannci Wesley and A, IV. Sicveking, 51

the claims of social and domestic life which she never neg-
lected, made her life so full that nothing but the most un-
wearying diligence, combined with strong health and early
rising, and at the root of all a most loving and cheerful zeal,
would have enabled her to accomplish what she did. The
principles which she declared to be at the root of all healthy
combined action for the good of others, love, truth, and order,
were those which actuated her own life and produced such
abundant results.

The Yearly Reports of the working of the Society contain
admirable expositions of those principles. They were always
written by her as long as she lived ; and she usually took the
opportunity of the comparative leisure afforded by the one
annual recess she allowed herself, when she went from home
on a visit to some friend, to write them. The Reports and the
fame of the Society soon spread through Germany and other
countries, and her Institute became the model of many similar
ones. A legacy left to the Association by a benevolent gentle-
man (with the proviso that his name should be concealed)
enabled her to erect a number of model dwellings for the poor,
and a hospital for children was also established ; and these
became a nucleus for other operations, and were visited by
eminent strangers, who also applied to Amelia for advice and
the results of her experience, in order to set on foot similar
associations. In this way she became acquainted with many
of the excellent of the earth, among whom were the Queens of
Denmark and Prussia, who both became her warm friends.
With the former she passed at different times some happy
weeks of social and intimate communion at the Castle of
Sorgenfrei ; and of the latter she writes : *' The most decided
Christian faith, the highest truthfulness of character, which is
not only content to hate a he but aspires to be clear and
consistent with itself, a great love of simplicity, and a warm
interest in all really philanthropic efforts, these were the traits
I thought I recognised in her, and which so vividly reminded
me of my dear Queen of Denmark."

Consecrated Women.

And to her she writes, after remarking that she did not
think that women of the middle classes did well to mincie
much .n poht.cs: '« lUu one mission, I think, is common'to
all women, be they of high rank or of low, although the variety
of position will modify its form. It is the mission of humble
ministering love, grounded on Hiith, whose gentle magi,- in>
terposcs with a softening influence amidst the hard con-
traruties and passionate agiuuions of this world, and brings
heaven down to earth, making a paradise within the heart if
it cannot always succe-«d in doing so in the outward world,
rha the Eternal Love may make us all, from the princess on
the hrone to the lowest peasant girl, evermore truly instru-
ments^ of blessing ,n His h.nd is the deepest wish of my

It was her most earnest desire that the life and character
of woman saould be redeemed from vanity, frivolity, and self
seeking, and to see her taking her proper place vv'lh a holy
and happy dignity, a place at once lowly and lofty, in the foot

minister This aspiration and endeavour included all of
every class, but her interest and sympathy were perhaps the
strongest on behalf of those who, like herself, had not thi close
tics of wifehood and motherhood to draw out their tcndorest
affections. She made a single life beautiful, and longed to see
it universally beautiful and happy, -if Providence" she
writes to her brother and sister-in-law, who ..ere settled in
England, 'if Providence grant you a daughter, let her learn
early that the essential conditions of a woman's happiness are
no o her than faith, and charity, and hope; and ifl do n't
ve to sec her blooming youth, let this be my legacy to her
the solemn assurance that a single state also may be glorified

It will easily be believed that her heart was peculiarly alive
t^ the enjoyments of social life and of elevatin.^ friendships
l^^^ fuHuwmg extract irom a letter will show how deathless

Ni 3sn Oi a3i'jiaiydd u

c did not
to mingle
>nimon to
he variety
»f luiniblc
magic in-
lard con-
nd brings
; heart, if
rd world,
incess on
ily instru-
li of my

character
and self
h a holy
the foot-
but to
d all of
haps the
the close
cnderest
d to see
cc," she
:ttled in
er learn
ness are
do not
' to her,
glorified
ition of

•ly alive
idships.
pathless

Susanna IVcsLy and A. JV. Sicvd-in^, 53

she felt tliese tics to be. " One reason, among others, which
makes the prospect of heaven so precious to me, is that I con-
fidently anticipate the resumption there of all these passing
relations here, to our mutual and ever-growing profit and
blessedness. Thus every parting brings that meeting more
vividly before my eyes, and what lies there in the future is for
me so closely intertwined with what is round me here and now
that I can scarcely look on any tie once formed as really
broken."

And now, at the risk of being too lengthy, I must allude
again to one feature of her mind and clerner . of her work
which perhaps amongst us is hardly suflkiently valued. If
"order" be "Heaven's first law," she also recognised it,
necessity in doing I leaven's work of goodwill to man on earth.
In the government of her Society the utmost regularity was
observed, strict and well considered laws were introduced,
labour undertaken was required to be punctually performed ;
and while much individual responsibility and freedom of
action were acknowledged, the whole proceeded as the
harmonious develoinnent of one great and noble thought.

I have given but a feeble sketch of the beautifully rounded
and proportioned life of this noble woman, a life which grew
like a perfc t flower from a deep and living root, and ex-
panded in aii atmosphere of humility and love to a grace
seldom attained in this imperfect world. After a gradual and
gentle decline of her huppy, active, and most productive life
on earth, she gently passed to the presence of the Master
whom she loved, doubtless to hear from His gracious lips the
"Well done, good and faithful servant, enter thou into the joy
of thy Lord ! "

I think that none can rise from the perusal of the two
biographies, of which I have given but slight glimpses, without
feeling how beautiful and influential a thing a woman's life
may become, and how glorious her "mission" may be,
whether surrounded by the cares and anxieties of family life

Consecrated IVomcn.

or in comparative isolation and loneliness. I may perhaps
conclude in the words of another lady, whose noble talents
and lovely character made a single life most honourable.
Fredcrica Bremer says : " Write above the cradle of every
little girl, ' Behold the handmaid of the Lord,' and inscribe
the words in her heart during the time of her education, and
her life will become good and noble whatever her talents may
be ; and, whatever her sphere of action may become, she will
not live merely for a narrow and selfish aim."

Ni asn 01 aarjiaiiidd lj

ly jjcrhaps
blc talents
lonourable.
e of every
id inscribe
:ation, and
alents may
le, she will

In
4

ENDURING AS SEEING HIM WIIC IS
INVISIBLE,

FRAU TRUDEL.

" Ye weep for those who lueep ? "she said-^

• • • » .

" Go, weep for those whose hearts have bled.

What time their eyes were dry !
Whom sadder can I say 1 '^—she said.

E. B. Brown I Nd.

i'-'-'-able grief ; take co ra I or 17 T ''''■''''' ^' ^^^ '"^^^
su-eetncss of bein- hvcdht h '' >V^°"^°'*^t'0" is found ! If tl,c

thyself to be desp; t of , pHvi "n"-^' '"'" '"^' '-^"^^^ "«'
loving last, of loving ahvt of b i f '''' ' °'^°^''"^" ^'•^^' ^'^

injustice that thou ha ecdvV^ ?'"'' '1''' '''' ^°'^'"«^ ^^^

thcc a help-„,eet for hi„ 'f ^' '' ^^''" ''^'^ ^'^' S^^'ved

-the heart that thou seekcsish^irho ^/^^'"^-humble thyself-go
by tl^y love - r,ut shou 1 L ;t^:/-"':r'^ ^" ;^-^- conquered
-'<--^on,plish, even to tl,e en thv , L '" "' '''' '"J"'^'^'^ '

^hc God vvhon> thou love ,„ Iho ",'' ''°'"'"* ^^'>' "P^"
iicreafter make thcc JA'' '.'''■'"''"' ^^'^'' '''"^ ^^'^° ^^ill
Ado/phcMoiioi ^^""'y ^''<^^ ''•s now this cross'

cnced.
f )r tlic '
I'V sorn
balance(
ap])rcci;i
whitli b
with rei;
knoweth
meddle
by dcati:
JUit ther
because
hand. (
tion wli:
oulwaid,
rooted ai
of heart
the same
Often th(
the less
heart is
scious of
tlms hid(

Ni gsn 01 Q3iomibdd lj

• . thou
f the most
J! Iftlic
, allow not
ng first, of
■V the path
tlncss and
as grieved
lysclf— go
conquered
injustice ;
■^cly upon

who will
s cross"

rii.

FRAU TRUDEL.

Born 1772. Died 1840,

WE often hear it repeated that this or that person lias
passed through the deepest sorrow that can be experi-
enced. Such expressions seeiu always unjust to other mourners
for the weight of suffering and the extent of desolation caused
hy sorrow on different hearts and temperaments cannot be
bahinced. Neither can those who look on from the outside
appreciate the alleviations, many of them subtle and impalpable
which bring help and soothing to different hearts. It is true
with regard to the deep undercurrents of life that "the heirt
knoweth Its own bitterness, and a stranger doth not inter-
meddle with his joy." It is generally the bereavements caused
by death which are designated as the severest trials of earth
Hit there are other trials which are often all the more bitter*
because not at once recognised as coming direct from God's
hand. Of these, we will only touch upon the trial of separa-
tion which IS appropriate to this history. Sometimes it is
outwaid, and between those who are bound together by deeply
rooted and most tender affection ; sometimes it is a separation
of heart between those who have to live on, side by side in
tlie same home, apparently on terms of the closest intimacy.
Often the agony is never seen of men, but the suffering is none
he less terrible; rather more so, because the poor broken
heart is continually being jostled by those who are uncon-
oe;ous of us condition. When it happens that the sorrow is
thus hidden, or when it is one which, involving the reputation

Consecrated Women.

of another, is too delicate to be spoken of and is equally beyond
the reach of the expression of iiiiman sympathy, the loneliness
IS at tunes intense. Upon such suffering there arc two results
cither of which may follow. The weary heart may turn back
upon Itself and become cold and withered, or it may be re-
stored under heavenly consolation and become sanctified to
the highest uses. Ixx other words, the base metal tried in the
crucible IS found to be useless, or by an alchemy unknown to
this world IS transmuted into pure gold capable of reflecting
the image of the Refiner, and of bearing any future heat brought
to bear upon it. Such was the result of a " living martyrdom "
m the noble woman who is the subject of the following sketch.
It IS entitled " The Christian Mother," and is by her daughter
Dorothea, who thus narrates the life story.i

My mother frequently related to me the incidents of her
early history. She was born in the year 1772, and in the
twelfth year of her age was left an orphan under very painful
circumstances : her mother dying suddenly after the birth of
her eleventh child, and her father (a man of most violent
temper, who had never learnt to control his passion) shortly
after putting an end to his miserable existence. This last
event so deeply impressed the girl that she could never think
of her father without tears.

Our mother remained with her grandparents for the nex^
four years of her life, and during this period her education was
not neglected. When she had attained the age of sixteen her
grandfather died, and in the following year his wife followed
him. The death of the latter was a heavy calamity for the
poor girl, as this relative had be n a most loving godmother to
her, making up, in a large measure, for the absence of that
maternal care of which she nad been deprived by the loss of
her own mother. This good grandmother had faithfully ful-

> Extracted from "The Life uf Faith." by Dorothea Trudcl. Ly p.^
nubsion of the rubhbhcis, Morgan and Scott. ^ ^

Ni 3sn 01 udijiMXbdd LJ

Fran Triidcl.

liially beyond
llic loneliness
1 two results,
ay turn back
t may be re-
sanctified to
1 tried in the
' unknown to
of reflcctinij
heat brought
martyrdom '*
•wing sketch,
her daughter

ients of her
and in the
very painful
the birth of
nost violent
sion) shortly
I'his last
never think

or the next
ucation was
sixteen her
fe followed
aity for the
odmother to
nee of that
' the loss of
lithfully ful-

iel. Ey per-

tlllcrl her tiust; and in addition to counsel and watchful
ovcr.-,igIit had borne her charge in the arms of earnest and
believing prayer before the throne of grace. Many readers
will acknowledge the efficacy of these prayers, and recognise
their answer in the guidance and upholding so remarkably
afforded to our mother during her life history.

The granddaughter was prepared by her relative for the
bereavement that awaited her; the evening before her death
she called the sorrowing girl to her side, and said : " This night
I am going to my heavenly home; at midnight my Saviour
will come to fetch me." She expired at the hour she had thus
foretold.

The orphan girl, now cast upon her own resources, earned
her living by spinning ; at the same time, with self sacrificing
love, and from a feeling of sympathy with their position, she
undertook the charge of a family of children, who like herself
had been deprived by death of the blessing of maternal care.
These little ones loved her most sincerely, and they would
of'cn in after years dwell with affectionate remembrance upon
the self denying love and care exhibited towards them.

^\■hen she was about four- and- twenty years of age she
received proposals of marric^te '-om my father. The utter
unselfislmess of her nature and that self denying love to her
neighbour, in willing obedience to the Master's word " Thou
Shalt love thy neighbour as thyself," which she at all times
displayed, attracted the notice and admiration of the one who
sought her hand, and who, though not himself of religious
tendencies, was fully capable of recognising the beauty of
her character and the excellence of her life. Nor was there
wanting considerable attractiveness of personal appearance to
complete the charm.

My father's father was a very godly man, and on hearing of
ns son's desire to marry my mother, he told him that although

'•-• 6"^'-'^> rv.Cvive tnia, liic uujccc or nis choice, as his

daughter, yet that, unless he would alter his course of life and
adapt himself to hers, he should prohibit the union; and this

Consccraicd IVovi

en.

'i^uZfr,™:'"' ""°" ^ ^^ ^" 0' ^-=- '» Ws proposed

"ithnnf pu^sfcrif ■'^'^'Tr''"'" '°^'-- '° "-Lord

beyond mere" J" ' "'"^ "' f °' "^ ■""' ''^''S'"^''
of joy, ' '' '' """ >'°""S ™"P'« his blessing with tears

fear "thlrS/ was tt "'{r"'"","" '"""^^ """ "^ -"e.
presentimcn llyheaWufolT .'" 'T" '■"^''='"''' " »'•«'
life might possiblv 1 1 ; "^r 7 ^?" "'•■" " "■""''l'^'' '<" i"

thatsircouTd e^all h Vro°r;;' f"',""'/" '""^ ^'^ ™' f"'
The^,. f„r,r 1 promise she had solemnly nipde

Jhese forebodings were, alas ! too fully reilirerl T, •

f"l for a child to have to relate e s.ot f " l"'"'
^^ufl-erings; but to God's glory beh s oke' { \'"°*"'»
and-twcnty yea-s I knm>, i?/ i ' ' ''"""S ""e seven-

l-yerfu, Lthefcou dte so .teXl ^"d""'"' "T ""'
circumstances nor fin.v cT, ^'^ccrlul and quiet under all

culties, a,::^ "bear „,f :,,h-r:t' ," "" ""■''^' °^ ^"«-

gentle sp.ir^ n ' Sfn,, ..S thl ^ T' ""^ ,'-^^^ '-
prominent feature of »; fot ^ c nr ter 1,"" ^'1 *" "
the injustice tint wn/.li , ' '"'' ='"^ ^ore all

.rcatmLtthtttlCpefu'prher"™^'^ '''^' ^"^ '"^ '"

light than USU4 I S^X::'.'" "^ '-advantageous

"How can you talk thus to us, mother? Tf t i ^
husband I should behave very d Lremi! o 1 "^ '"'^ ^
lum too well. Instead of S. him If \ ' ^'" ''''''

pray about them." ^ '"" ""^ ^^'^ ^^"^^ >'0" only

n^y'c^iir^^lru'nrr/^P'!,; ■'^^'^'' -'-"e. omy ..ai,
.0 my husband is my ple;;;u;el .hro^gM lim TUfS fto"

trust a]

own w;

childre:

li(.'licvc

well as

behalf,

to pray

< ast int

to God

" \Vh

could tl

those d:

iie happ

living wi

We V

livclihoc

very pi:

mother's

life, we

of dome:

Xotwi

iiiij^atien

rotif ; an

ing evide

our food

little vari

licalthy a

: many of

I iionictime

' luy iries i

' would in

were pen

i gulden w(

[over and

^vants.

There \

Ni T'^^^ 01 aaiomibda lj

) his

proposeti

^e to the Lord
nan, cleh'ghted
sing with tears

with a secret
isband, a sad
aiibled lot in
did not feel
y mode.
'• It is pain-
f" a mother's
ng the seven-
rd a murmur
nd how our
et under all
idst of diffi-
and joyful-
lacked her
vhich was a
;lie bore all
md the ill

he extreme,
^t aj)pcared
'ine circum-
Ivantageous

Jad such a

; you treat

you only

only w'ait,

iubmission

learnt to

/^rau Triidel. gj

trust alone in God If I had been permitted to have all my
I oun way throiigh h/e, I might not have been able to give my
i . hjldrcn to God so entirely as I can now. If you will nol
c eve that the Saviour serids us blessings through trials, as
ucll as through ease and comfort, I shall be troubled on your
1 du-ilf, even as I am on account of my husband. My duty is
to pray that this rod which now smites us may not itself be
.ast into the fire at last But for this rod I will gi.e thanks
to (jod all my life long."

"What," said I, "thankful for such a heavy trial ?" How

could this be? It was to me quite incomprehensible ; for in

i>ose days I could not conceive how any one could possibly

.e happy in the midst of suffering. Thus my mother was a

living wonder before my eyes.

We were eleven children 'in family, and as our means of

h\ehhoodwere extremely limited we were brought up in a

very plain manner; however, by the infiuence of our dear

mothers example, and powerfully affected by her prayerful

e we learned to be so contented w^ith our lot that in spite

of domestic troubles our youth was really a happy time

^otwlthstanding our father's frequent painful outbursts of

^ ..npatience, peace might be justly said to dwell under our

^ roof; and the order and quietude of our home were a stand-

^^^;;^'''^'^''^?^^---^^^Vr^^. Although
food was necessarily inexpensive and simple, and very
ttle varied in kind from day to day, yet we lee quit s
..thy as the generality of children, and more robu't than
•nany of those who were our neighbours. It would happen
son.etimes that our mother would refer to the comparalive
.u> mes enjoyed by other families, but when doing so she
H-ould invariably bid us be thankful for all the mere es we

Zir^"'''""^ '" '''''''• ' ^''''''' "°^ ^^'^ than two
gulden were spent upon our Christmas and New Year's treats

lover and above the ordinary provision made for our doilJ

, wants. -f

There were times when we had not a farthing left in the

Consecrated Women.

house. None but God knew of our condition, and He who
feedcth tlic young ravens when they cry was not unmindful
of the petitions of His faitlifiil cliild. He ever helped us in
our time of need. It is on this account that our mother's
favourite motto, " Pray, but do not beg," has been so im-
pressed upon our minds. In the course of this discipline,
many striking deliverance.^', were .iiibided us, and every one
around could bear wi'jR-ss that we were not allowed to suffer
want. When our distress waxed ^(^ our mother would say •
"Children, it i,; written, They tliat put l-ieir trust in the Lord
shall never be confounded." Once one of us in childish
despair «;. laimed : ^'O mother, I do believe you would say
nothing if we all had to tun. beggars."

Full of ronnuing trust she answered: "That can never
hajjpen, for God's -vord i.s oidL/ than we are, and it says He
' will satisfy the poor with i-rcad,' and Ihat ' there is no want
to them that fear Him'; and David further tells us, 'I have
been young and now am old, yet have I not seen the righte-
ous forsaken nor his seed begging bread.' Children, pray and
work, then you will never suffer want; and do not forget that
little verse,

" • Wh.itever fjood you would enjoy

Must all come down from God.' "

If we had only known how rightly to appreciate our
privileges, we should have understood our Bible when very
young, and should have learned in early years to acknowledge
the almighty Guide who so wonderfully helped us.

As we were so poor, of course but little money could be
spared for buying us necessary clothing. Thus, for example,
every year until we were confirmed we had only one pair of
new shoes ; we were very lively children, and active on our
feet, yet these shoes always lasted us the time. We used to
believe that the shoemaker made them of particularly good
leather; but when our fortunes improved so that we could
afford to spend more, we found out that our shoes were made
of the same leather as other people's.

ber

Fran Triidcl.

, and He who

not unmindful
r hd[)C(l us in
t our mother's
IS been so im-
this discii)linc,
nnd every one
llowed to suffer
lier would say :
it in the Lord
us in childish
^'ou would say

hat can never
and it says He
:rc is no want
Is us, *I have
:cn the rightc-
drcn, pray and
lot forget that

ppreciate our
le when very
» acknowledge
s.

ney could be
for example,
' one pair of
ictive on our
We used to
icularly good
lat we could
25 Wcfc made

I I..1V0 mem,oncd that we knew the Bible very well ; it was
e only .00k we had. We learned to read by it, 'a„d"
slofcs wore soon so dear .0 us that we loved to peruse them
over and over aga.n This was of great benefit to us • mor"
.antcularly aswe had few educational advantages, non^ of is
he.ng able to remam long at sehool. The Bible was unspeak
a y preoous to our n.other. During the week she waf too
b-y for readu,g, but she prayed continually whilst in the
midst of her daily occupations.

We had early to begin helping our mother in her household

and other duttes. I was not nine years old when I 1 .do

,t all d,ay at work. The thought of recreation hardly ever

moThe ;^^t "" 'l-t ""' '°"S; but when we couIdTe
out uno the fresh air like other children, we were as invnl
as posstble for the peaceful atmosphere 'oTo 7 ho ;^hZe
seemed to follow us and make us doubly happy

Our mother would never allow us to indulge in the gossio
nd scandal of the village; no idle words were ever head
from her hps. She did not talk much at .any time it w s
her example wluch ruled us, and her spirit of prayer semed
.ke an electrtc cord of peace among us noisy children. I fclt
compelled to subm.t myself to her kind control, and wa
pos fve y m many instances unable to act as t^y self-wfl
would have d.ctated. When she w.arned, or e2or ed or
adnsed, she did it all in the power of the Lord which dweU
m her, and her words penetrated the heart like arro^ She
, averTstI ? '"'"'^ '" «°d- ""^ "- «n,embrance of he

1 on "Lanoie 7 "'TTj "'""''"'^ °' "" ^-1"-
hv A Tn . „ ™^ '''"''''■«» ^^ ■"'ss'ig in the last

1— tobehoid the .orkt:;;=k]sts;rrs

b.f!'i™ii"" "'^ >:™"S^^' «f her children, I can remem-

Consecrated J Tom en.

able instance may here be recorded, relating to our mother's
pious sistcr-m-law, who so fliithfully stood by us. Our aunt
was so 111 that every one believed her end was quickly ap-
proaching. She was quite prepared for this, but desired first
to partake of the Lord's Supper. This was accomplished, and
hardly a (piarter of an hour afterwards everything earthly
seemed to fade away from her, so that, as she herself told us
she could sec into heaven. Yet she lay in full consciousness,'
and recognised all who came near. On the arrival of evenins
they brought a light into the room, when she exclaimed :
What do you think? there is a brightness surrounding us,
such as I have never witnessed before; and I see crowds of
blessed children. Oh that you too could behold these things '"
Our mother thought to herself, when this foretaste of
heaven is over my sister will die. She sank on her knees
and earnestly entreated God to prolong the life of this loved
one, at least until our mother's eldest child should be able to
be some support At midnight the sick one suddenly turned
towards my mother, saying : " Now I must return into this
dark valley of death, I must stay awhile longer with you." She
survived yet fifteen years, and until the eldest child was able to
contribute her share towards the maintenance of the family

'Ihis dear relation, our aunt, lived entirely to the Lord • in-

stead of working for herself her constant desire was to help us

and rather than that we should suffer want she would deny

herself anything. Some years before her death she even sold

all her clothes to provide us with necessaries. Just as self-

sacnnc.ngly did she net in the famine of 1770 : she was then

barely eighteen years old, and yet she provided for the sup-

port of her father and his family, working day and night to

make both ends meet, and seeking in every way to cheer the

life of her desponding parent. " Father," she would say, « be

comforted, for I will never let any of you suffer, even if I have

to starve for it." And in reality she ate for years nothing but

potatoes and cold milk, while slie prepared other things fo-

her fother. *

^Ve

into t

with

Christ

consic

assistc

self sa

suflicii

were 1

sician.

that ti

out th

helpcc

Eve

doctor

uas no

telling

to rem

the lea

especia

my eye

Ouci

friL^ht.

L;rcatly

inoiher

is one

Jesus, •

not s]x

about il

Not
was tak
told hin
it and 1
child h:
of your
whilst y

NI3SnOiQ3rjldl^dd Lj

Frau Trildcl.

our mother's
3. Our aunt
IS quickly ap-
: desired first
nplishcfl, and
thing earthly
rscif told us,
onsciousness,
\\ of evening
; exclaimed :
rounding us,
>ee crowds of
hcsc things!"

foretaste of
n her knees,
•f this loved
I be able to
Jenly turned
rn into this
lyou." She
I was able to
ic family,
e Lord ; in-
5 to help us,
would deny
e even sold
fust as self-
le was then
or the sup-
id night to
3 cheer the
Id say, " be
m if I have
nothing but

thlii

igs w

We can now see God's gracious care in bringing my mother
into this family, where father and daughter were of one heart
niih her. They helped one another on in patience and
Christian meekness, and often observed that they should not
consider themselves well off if they had no cross. My aunt
assisted our mother in our education with her usual love and
self sacruice, and at the same time they earned between them
sutlicient to support the family. When any of us were ill we
ucre brought in prayer before the feet of the heavenly Phy-
sician. Our mother had no cure except prayer; and though at
that tune we did not understand, yet since that we have found
out that It was the healing hand of the Saviour alone that
lielped and restored us.

Even when I had the small-pox and became blind, no
doctor was sent for and no one was told of it. Our f\ther
uas not at home ; and when our mother asked him to come
telling him how ill I was, he would not believe it, and preferred
to remain with his friends. Our mother however was not in
the least vexed or excited; she prayed for him, for all of us
c specially for her sick child ; and before my father came home
liiy eyes were reopened.

Once again one of my brothers had a fit brought on through
triL;ht. It was a most violent and painful attack, and we were
greatly alarmed. This time also our father was out, and our
niuiher said to us : "I know this fearful illness, my children it
IS one of the heaviest trials which could have occurred ; but
Jesus, who cured that lunatic boy, can heal our child. ' Do
not speak of the attack to any one, we will go only to Jesus
about it." And then she prayed with us.

Not long after a second fit came on, and again our father
was taking his pleasure at the public-house. This time mother
tuM him what had happened in his absence, but he laughed at
It and said, " I don't believe it ; you were fri-htened at the
child having bad dreams." His wife replied : " For the sak^
of your unbelief 1 hope that the child wiH have another attack
whilst you are at home, so that you may witness it yourself;

Consecrated Women.

llicn you will believe; I pray God, however, that this may be
the last time."

It cnnie to pass about a week after that another most
dreadful fit came on ; the boy threw himself about in fearful
convulsions; on this occasion the father was present, and he
was con^ inced of the mti:re of the attack and alarmed at what
■^ saw IJut the mother's prayer was heard, for the disease
never showed itself again till thirty-four years had elapsed, and
alter both parents were dead ; at that tiiue we ourselves knew
the power of appealing to the Divine Helper, who remains ever
willing to cure.

/' . ■ ' ^^■^'^''' niade quite ashamed through the simplicity
of the faith that, instead of seeking to judge for itself, let the
J.ord order everything. Once in a time of „reat need a clergy-
man became acquainted with the poverty of our circumstances
uhich we had supposed to be known alone to God. He said
to our eldest sister, who was now a great support to the family
" How can you be so foolish, both mother and children, and

et thi.igs go on so easily? Vour mother ought not to allow
her husband to have his own way in everything ; she ought to
bring a charge agamst him in the court for neglect and cruelty "
The girl answered him: " W. never hear mo; Iier complain of
my father's conduct, and .he does not expect us to do so
cither; she tJls us God will permit n-uhing tha; 3 not meant
to d(. us g.)(. 1 ; so whatever He allow, u c are not to t.ke as from
our earthly father, but as what is sent us by our hea-. uily FaMier
Jf God were to pcn.iit us for a lime to be witl, ut a r to
she;:er us^ He would be sure to open a door for us in . e
other ^p' ce, whetc, with Hb blessing, we might live. Mother
says, ' long a you pray, you need never betr.'"

The clergyman answered : "I cam^ot agrce^vith you there
Cod pernutted Napoleon to do many things wliich were noi
right ; nd on whai can your mother rely ? "

"On God -.xi^x.^;^ said my s'^tcr "she never tells us how

» 1 ■

■-■nins to the first Nap.,, icon's i; a.iyn of Germany.

Ni 3sn 01 ojiuiai^dd jL

Fran TriidoL

at this may be

another most
lout in fearful
■csent, and he
firmed at what
)r the disease
1 elapsed, and
ursclves knew
; remains ever

the simplicity
itself, let the
need a clergy-
ircumstances,
od. He said
:o the family:
children, and
not to alluw
she ought to
and cruelty."
complain of
us to do so
IS not meant
take as from
i ciily Father,
uta rr to
us in ^., .iO
ve. Mother

fi you there,
ch were not

tells us how

lany.

Cod is goin;' iK-lp, but she is always certain His aid wiiJ

< unic at the i; iu time."
" I'.iit," said he, " wc must be governed by reason "
'• Nothing is said in the l!,ble about reason," replied n,y
^tcr; "but it is written, 'lie that beiievcth shall nut be

f onfounded. *

\Vhen this conversation was related to our motlier she said
to us : ' Oh, children, follow my example, ti: i not to man for
■ icli., but to God; the person who seeks counsel of men, Nsho
-.nis on an arm of flesh and putteth not his confidence in
; -od, must be unhai.py. You will experience," cont.nued she,
• il-at they who always get help just at the ri^'it time are those
V. ho never study circumstances, but who look in steadfast faith
to (..od, expecting Ilim to act for and aid them;

That same clergyman found out by experience that our
mothers -ust was rightly grounded, for from that time our
great distress ceased; and two years later he confessed that the
•saving hand of the Lord was stietched out on our beh -K

Just about this period our mother's faith was wonderfully
strengthened and crowned by most blessed experiences of
Gods faithfulness. We lived several years quite alone ,vith
her, my father being abroad.

On going away he sola one of our two cows, and took the
proceeds with him. A rich neighbour d.rcctlv offered to lend
us money enough to buy another; this kind pioposal we grate-
fully accepted._ Although ve did not understan<l much about
■ irgams of this kind, yet the cow we purchased served us so
i.markablythat we were obliged to acknowledge whence the
'^ cssing came. In summer we could sell fourteen measures
of nu k, in winter twelve, to the dairy, n; so that the bor-
rowed money was speedily repnM At the same tun. the cow
Perfoiuied the form work requu.d o^ ■ .-ith such strength and
quickne-^G tliat people were astonish..!. When our father on

ins return heard hq sneil'l'^^ ^.^.m, .^^^^.,^. _/• ., • ...
-.-___. a|je..,vi,.^^ „ita i :e-aaUie uf this amnial, i.e

ccame so enraged with the poor thing that he determined to

^cll It, and actually offer- it ^' half its value. We faithless

'/5

Consccnxlcd Women,

< luMrcM were in a continual fright. When any one carnc near
the house wc thought wc ucrc assuredly g(,ing to lusc our cow.
I.ut mother exhorted us not to he so fearful, " for," said she,
"if your father could do always as he likes, none of you would
be ahvc now ; but God will never let him go any farther than
He sees to be for our good. JJelieve me, God who has given
us this cow will keep it for us as long as wc need it."

And so it turned out, for the cow never left us whilst our
mother was alive; and when we were all provided for, a
purchaser came, who paid a hi-h price for the creature, having
heard of its wonderful powers from the man to whoin we sold
the nnlk (or so many years. But no sooner was the animal
taken to its new home than the wonder ceased, and this cow
became no better than any other.

I could narrate numberless facts of this kind, if I jiad not
with them almost always to make unpleasant allusion to my
fathers name. I am sorry to say he it was who caused many
of our troubles; but at last even he wa, brou^ht to the know-
ledge of the truth, and after our mothers death he himself
ni old age, fell peacefully asleep in Jesus; so that this portion
also of our mother's prayers was answered.

I here wish to imi)ress upon the mind of the reader the
truths that not a hair of our head can fall without God's per
mission, au'I also that to those who love God "all things
work together f^r good."

As we grew u]), we stood faithfully l,y our mother; and
having been brought up to work, we found no difficulty in
gaming our living; but still we feared sometimes what might
come when we should no longer be able to labour, and yet
hail nothing laid by for our support. But she would cheerfully
say, « Let God care for us, He can and will do it "; and before
her death she exp-eiienced the truth of this also.

^Vhen we were all grown up God gave us courage to take
this dear parent ([uite r.ndcr our own protection ; and we
unanimously told our lather that we would not see her after
sacrificing her whole life to him, treated otherwise tiiaii with

o\ ij

NI ISnOl Qdl'JIdlbdd Lj

Fmu TtiiiM.

Dnc carnc near
I lose our cow.
for," said she,
: of you would
y farther than
kvho l)as given
1 it."

us whilst our
ovidcd for, a
-■aturc, liaving
vhom wc sold
s the animal
and tiiis cow

if I had not

lusion to my
caused many
to the know-
1 he liimself,
: this iJortion

c reader the

t God's pep

"all things

nother; and
difficulty in
• what might
Kir, and yet
Id cheerfully
; and before

■age to take
)n ; and we
ec her, after
c than with

kiadncs<?. lie might storm at us, but against our motlicr he
houkl sin no more ; what he had hitherto done was enough.

^^^• now tried who could the best take care of her, and the
ni< A sweeten her remaining days, so that she often shed tears
' f joy, exclaiming, "Children, why do you try so to make mc
iapj.y?" When she saw that a cheerful acceptation of our
1 ne gave us delight, and that we grieved if she were worried
"ver household cares, she made herself cpiite contented and
liai py. \\'e were determined to show her that her lessons of
l.mh had not been lost upon us.

She had the joy of beholding several of tis serving a risen
■ vm\ accepted Saviour, dwelling in Him and He in us; know-
i.ig this, she could trustingly leave her other dear oncs'to Ilis
care.

At length the last year of her earthly pilgrimage drew ni-h
It was a tmic of great bodily pain, but all her sufferings were
iH.rne (luictly, -looking unto Jesus." She was most anxious
not to cause trouble, though she knew that we loved nothing
b-tterthan waiting on her. Never would she allow any of
us to stay awake watching her at night, protesting that she
•saouhl get no sleep herself if she knew she was keeping others
iroMi rejjosc.

( )ne of the last trinmi)hs of her faith now occurred. A dear
in.bi own relation visited us at this time, and promised our
inuihcr that he would act as a father to us; his money, he told
IKT, would be blessed in fulfilling a promise made to fiiith.

'J'he end of our mothers life was drawing near. DurinP
her last night on earth I watched at her side, for now I would
not forego this privilege. I felt quite ashamed when, on
approachmg her, she said, "I am giving you trouble."

I replied : " Oh, mother, you know it would be no trouble
for your children to watch you both m^^': and day ; you deserve
u of us." She answered, "I know you c.< it gladly, but it is
useless."

Karly in the morning, after cheerfully saluting us, she lost
llic power of speech, and beckoned my eldest sister to raise

Consecrated Wovicn,

.cr .n the hod Afy sister took ner in her arms and sat by
her on tlic bed. She remained thus for about half an hour
and then our mother passed away quietly from earth. With
tears of love v.x- res.^^ned her into the Saviour's arms, prayhv
H.m to give us grace to follow in her steps, so that we nidu
present to others as holy an example as we had beheld in her
and that thus she, though in heaven, might perceive it was
notm vam that she had pointed us to God's true word, but
nug u see that H.s truth had borne fruit in our souls and the
souls of many, to His praise and clory

mother'''., w'' M " '"[ "^"^^f^^^ to that of every other
mother. Would you be a blessing to your children ? Oh
then, care not to gather for them 'treasures whirh moth and
rust do corrupt;; care not to supply them with large fortunes
and be not anxious though coffers and chests are empty bui
be prayerful, trustful in faith : bring your children to the
Saviours feet never doubting that He will make them wortlr-
cach one to be a living sacriike to Jesus; believing that Mis
Spirit Will sanctify their bodies and make them to be mstru-
ments of righteousness, and that they shall all serve the lord
m living faith, and use every power in His service. So shall
your children rise uj. and call you blessed; and after you h'/vc
departed, your memory shall be fragrant on the earth.'

Here ends the daughter's record. There are special lesson.
to be drawn from tins life. We spoke at the beginn m o
sorrows which were beyond the reach of human hdp, except
indeed of that hidden electric current of spiritual S3'mpat y
which, directed by the Holy Spirit, sometimes reads he n n
underneath the calm exterior. Frau Trudel did not dS
upon her troubles to human friends. She knew that one c'
was open to all the details of her distress. She knew that He
only could ellectually help her. She knew also that if she
might hope ever to exercise any Christian inOuence o^er ' n
o whom she was outwardly bound, she must not make 'hi
failings the sul^ect of common conversation. Living m^^om

Ni 3sn 01 aai'jidisdd lj

Fran Triidcl.

r arms and sat by
bout lialf an hour,
from earth. Witli
)ur's arms, praying
so tliat we might
lad beheld in her,
bt perceive it was
d'.s true word, hut
our souls and the

hat of every otiicr
ir children? Oh,
5 which moth and
ilb large fortunes,
ts are empty; l)ut
• children to the
akc liicm worthy,
relieving that Mis
icm to be inslru-
1 serve the Lord
'Cr\-ice. 80 shall
id after you have
le earth."

'C special lessons
the beginning ot
nan helj), except
jiritual sympathy
3 reads the pain
^1 did not dwell
lew that one car
le knew that He
also that, if she
uence over I.ini
St not make his
Living in com-

nv'.Mion with her Lord, and trusting Him implicitly, she no
doubt carried a cheerful countenance before men ; and though
some mistook her calmness for apathy or bravado, to other.j
she was a preacher of righteousness by life and conversation.
In the family life before us we see pecuniary and other straits
and trials sanctified to the formation of habits of self reliance
and self denial and a readiness to help one another. Sucli
results arc oft repeated, and go far to compensate for the
absence of the luxuries and even ct the comforts which afflu-
ence brings, and which too often enervate the mind and hinder
the full development of the noblest traits of character.

Ni ISO 01 aai:.)iHib'dH i J

'REJOICING IN IlOPEy

CIIART.OTTE ELIZABETH TONN.V

Afy hope is built on Jiot/iinrr /^-^^
Than Jesus' blood and ri:^/ifivus?icss ;
I dare not trust the sweetest frame,
But 7c>ho!/y lean on Jesus' N'amc :
On Christ, the solid Roek, I stand,
All other grourd is sinking sand.

Edward Motel

"It was on Advent Sunday, December 1873, I first saw clearly
the blessedness of true consecration. I saw it as a Hash of electric
light, and what you see you can never ?/;/sce. T/iere must be full
surrender before there c<vt be ft!/ blessedness. God admits j-ou by
the one into the other. He Himself showed me all this most clearly.
You know how singularly I have been withheld from attending
conventions and conferences; man's teaching has consequently
but little to do with it. First I was shown that the 'blood of Jesus
Christ His .Son chanseth from all sin/ and then it was made plain
to me that He who had thus cleansed me had power to keep mc
clean ; so I just utterly yielded myself to Him, and utterly trusted
Him to keep mc."— /vvw '' Memorials of Fnmccs R. llaver'-ar'
{Msbet ^ Co.) ■"'

fifty
sketc

know
straiy
true ;
histoi
Ch
i<i ol
undci
lively
alone
uMrdc
by th
( liain
pile c
of llo
webs
tales
mind
colou
concc

Tubli,

saw clearly
ih of electric
jfiiisi be full
mils you by
niost clearly.
m attend in;^
:onscquently
ood of Jesus

made plain
to keep mc
tcrly trusted

IV.

CHARLOTTE ELIZABETH TONNA.
Born 1790. Died 1846.

THE name of "Charlotte Elizabeth " was familiar to mani
readers through her iv-'^-ierous writings some forty or
fifty years ago. Now even her autobiography,^ with the
sketch of her latter years by her husband, is no longer much
known. But her character has in it so much to admire, in her
straiL;htforward carrying out of anything she believed to be
true and right, that, in spite of her strong idiosyncrasies, her
liislory may well be invigorating to other minds.

Ciuirlotte Elizabeth Browne was born at Norwich on the
It of October, 1790, and during her earliest years her home was
under the shadow of the cathedral. The little girl had a most
lively imagination, and she loved nothing better than to play
alone in the bishop's garden, enjoying her own thoughts, 'I'his
::ardcn, to which she had full access, was bounded on one side
by the cathedral ; and as she sat on the grass weaving daisy
< hains,litl'e Charlotte's eyes would wander, now over the noble
pile of stone far above her head, and then to the bright array
of llowers at her feet, while all the time !ier fancy was weaving
webs of many colours and of varied textures. The nursery
tales of those days were full of fauies and goblins which in her
mind grew into " hosts of marvellous creatures decked out in
colours of her own supplying, gorgeous or terrible, beyond the
conception of her classic authorities." Before she was fMr

' " IVrsonal Recollections. By Charlotte Klizabcth." Seel-jy & Co.

■4

m
f

I'ubli^hers.

7^ Consecrated Wow en.

Charlotte's home was transferred to anotlicr part of the city
near to the churcli of St. Giles', of which her father was rector'
Here she enjoyed roving in the large slirubbery and flower
garden attached to the ancient vine-covered house. Of an
evening she used to linger under a gigantic mulberry "free am!
there wait till th.e great night owl should appear. 'V , watch
him wheel round the tree, and to listen to his melancholy hoot
as he called his companions, while the bat brushed past her in
the twilight, was a weird pleasure to the romantic little child.

The love of music was early developed in her. Her father
had^ an unusually fine voice and a very high degree of
*' scientific knowledge and taste in the management of^it." It
was his great pleasure to provide enjoyment for his little
daughter througli this his favourite pursuit. A fellow clergy-
man, skilled in instrumental music, was often an inmate of tlie
house, ami in after years Charlotte Klizabeth recalls the feelings
of her childhood while listening to his i)erformances. " 'i'he
ri( h tones of his old harpsichord seem still to fill my car and
swell my heart; vJiile my father's deej), dear, mellow voice
breaks in with some no!)le recitation or elaborate air of
Handel, etc. Or the har[)sichord was relinquished to another
hand, and the breath of our friend came forth through the
reed of his hautboy in strains of such overpowering melody
that I have hid my face in my mother's la]) to weep the
feelings that absolutely wrung my little heart with c.xce.s of
enjoyment."

JJefore she w.s six years old, Charlotte, already exceedingly
fond of reading, accepted the offer of an uncle, a physician ''to
teach her French. The French lesson was taken, seated 'on
her young uncle's knee in the hall of his residence, and the
reward for diligence was '' some sublime strain from the deep-
toned organ" which stood there. Both lesson and reward
were so fascinating that every power was strained to make
rapid progress. At night the French book was placed under
the pillow, and at earliest break of ihs the sleepy e"cs v,-ero
strained over ihe p.age until she became quite blind. ^ During

Nl 3Sn 01 Udl'Jldlbda

Charlotte Elizabeth Tonna.

t!ic lime that the blindness lasted she had the entertainment
(.[ listening to the stirring conversations and discu>sions,
literary and political, which went on among tiic friends \\\\o
frequented the rectory. With nothing to distract her attention,
the little girl turned her face from one to another of the un-
seen speakers, her mind opening to take in many things that
she lieard, with an appreciation far beyond her years. Her
l.ilher's interest in the great (questions of the day, and his
powers of conversation and of argument, made him very
Mttraciive to a large circle, and he was "so devotedly, so
proudly, the Englishman,"' tliat his child could hardly fail,
sie tells us, to become " a thinker, a reasoner, a tory, and a
1 atriot." But the crowning i)leasure of those months of
Mindncss was the music. Her father was a minor canon, and
every afternoon after the cathedral service he would hrimr the
choristers home with him to sing to his little girl. They were
a(:comi)anied by her godfather on the harpsichord, and so
delicious to her ears were the "feasts of sacred music served
uj) to her" that she confessed to her brother that '• lau^ic was
1 tetter than seeing."

This only brother was a light-hearted, beautiful hoy,
not fund of learning, but devoted to his sister ; the two
were always together. When she was about seven years
old, Charlotte was the means of saving his life. The
parents had gone with a friend into the country for a day's
excursion, taking the children with them. It was a place
* eltbraied for fishing, and after a lung morning spent in this
sport the gentlemen had remained indoors with Mrs. Browne.
i'he children were, meanwhile, sent out to play, charged not
I' ge too near the water nor to get into a boat. They strolled
;.I)uu\ 'ind at last, without intending it, found themselves by
the r.ver. A small boat was close by, and the boy wanted to
,-et into it. His sister reminded him that this was forbidden ;
when he said, " I won't get in, Cha, but I will sit down here
and put my two feet into the little !)oat." No sooner h^A h--^
dune this than the boat moved and he was drawn into the

■m

Consecrated Women,

water. lie snnk, and, reappcnrinc^, his sister seized hold of
him. I low she managed to kee[) liim up wilhout herself
being dragged into the water she never knew. She distinctly
remembered deciding to hold on to liim so firmly that if he
sank again she should sink and die with liim. The little boy
dill not struggle, but looked up into his sister's face, she gazing
down intently into his. Providentially some labourers, re-
turning from their work, saw tlie little girl leaning over the
bank, and ran to sec what she was doing in such a perilous
position. One man took hold of her, while the other rescued
her brother. Ilcr grasp was not loosened till he was lifted
upon shore. She then became insensible and did not rccovei
consciousness till she found herself in the house, still in the
arms of the man who had carried her in, while her mother and
the others were restoring the little boy by the fire. Charlotte
was much caressed and commended for her heroism. To her
it seemed only the natural outcome of her love for her brother,
and to her narrative of the occurrence she adds the comment:
•'Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods
drown it ; if a man would give all the substance of his house
for love, it would utterly be contemned."

Whilst still very young, Charlotte received her first lessons
in Protestantism. Their father was accustomed to take his
two children to a place called the Lollards' Pit, which is just
outside the city. One day he pointed to the pit, and told
them of the good people burnt there by Queen Mary "for
refusing to worship wooden images." Charlotte was horror-
stricken, and often recurred to the subject, asking innumerable
questions. One day her father, having to go out while the
(juestioner was still unsatisfied, gave her Foxe's "Book of
Martyrs," that she might amuse herself with the plates. For
hours she pored over the exciting pictures, not deterred by
her aching eyes which were still weak. She could not make
out the black type, but every word in Roman type she eagerly
devoured. Next time her fother found her at this employment
she looked up at him with flushed checks and asked, " Papa,

N! db*l I UX UdXjmj.bda LJ

Charlotte Elizabeth Toiina,

ed hold of
lOUt herself
ic dislinctly
\j that if he
iC little boy
, she gazing
bourers, rc-
ig over the

a perilous
:hcr rescued
? was lifted
not rccovei
still in the
mother and
Charlotte
n. To her
her brotlier,
J comment :

the floods
f his house

Irst lessons
to take his
lich is just
it, and told
Mary "for
ivas horror-
nnumerable
t \Yhile the

"Book of
ilatcs. For
leterred by

not make
she eagerly
niploymcnt
ed, " Papa,

iii.iy I be a martyr?" "What do you mean, child?" "I
iii^an, papa, may I be burned to death for my religion as they
\'. crc ? 1 want to be a martyr." The answer she never forgot,
: rthe stern pleasure it gave her. " Why, Charlotte, if \he
(1 ivcrnmcnt ever gives jiower to the papists, as they talk of
doing, you may probably live to be a martyr." The seed sown
then took root in a most fertile soil, and in Charlotte Klizabeih
Protestantism eventually found an uncompromising chami)ion.

.She writes that as yet " no glimmer of spiritual knowledge
had reached her heart," though she knew the Bible intimately
and the sublimer portions from the prophets used to thrill
her as she heard her father's voice pronounce them from his
stall in the cathedral.

Although the idea of God's love seems not to have pene-
italcd their young hearts, both Charlotte and her brother
reali/.ed, with awe. His omniscience. When either had com-
niiited a fiiult they went hand in hand to tell their mother of
it, fearing to add deception to the other sin if they concealed
It. The children were generally entirely truthful, but on one
occasion Charlotte was led to tell a lie for the benefit of a
servant and at her instigation. When suspicion fell upon her,
Charlotte at once confessed her sin. Her father sent to a
iici-hbour's to borrow a rod. He then took her apart into
another room and said: "Child, it will pain me more to
punish you thus than any blows I can inllict will pain you :
Init I must do it ; you have told a lie : it is a dreadful sin,
and a base, mean, cowardly action. If I let you grow up a
liar you will reproach me for it one day ; if 1 now spared the
rod I should hate the child." Charlotte received the punish-
ment in the spirit in which it was extended, indeed she seems
to have accepted it as a personal favour and " wished every
stroke had been a stab." She thanked her father for his
Imdness. But she was deeply touched by the sobs and
entreaties of her little brother who, through the closed door,
pleaded in his soft voice, "O papa, don't whip Charlotte!
Oil, forgive poor Charlotte 1 "

m
f

J
O

I-!

w^imS

Co/i ira/Cii U'onicii.

When her sight had fiuiucicntly recovered tlu c;iildrt.'\
were t.ttight top^elhcr I y masters. lUit previously to this,
and bciore it was thought safe for cr to use her eyes in
learning to write, Charlotte had obtained a patent ropybook
and had used it SO well that her father one day d >vere(i
to his annoyaneo and anuiscuient, a letter neatly wi.lten b)
her to a distant relation. It contained a detailed n count of
a domestic calam r, the creation of her own brain; and so
touching was the narration that the tears of the writer had
fallen upon the slate on which the letter w is written.

The next t\ent in Charlotte's life was herintroiluction,at the
age of seven, to the plays of Shakespeare. Her brother was
taken one evening to tiie theatre, but having a cold she had to
remain at home inid was allowed to read the play which was
to be acted. 'I'liis was the "Merchant of Venice." She
writes of that evening : " I then drank a cup of intoxication
under which my brain reeled for many a year. . . I
revelled in the 'crril 'o excitement; page after page was
stereotyped on a most retentive nemory." A sleepless night
followed. From that ho ' cr diligence in 'idy, docility
of conduct, and anything cc >idered i)raisewortiiy in a child,
s] 'rang from a new motive." The reward she sought was the
permission to read a vokmu of Shakespeare. This taste so
extraordinary in such a litUe clildgainetl her great applause,
but nothing would induce her to recite a line or to witness
the representation of a iilny. The vivid representations which
her brain created out of her readings were all-satisfying.
\Vrapi)ed up in her favourite study, real life, except of the
most exciting character, became distasteful to her. Women,
children, and domestic affairs were contemptible in her eyes,
antl the society of any but literary men dull and insipid.
Charlotte must have been an enigma to her parents. On one
occasion she came down to breakfast very pale and languid,
and her father asked what ailed her; she rci)lied that she had
not been able to sleep. "What prevented your sleeping?"
" 1 was thinking, papa, of * Cc^ito, cr^^o sum,' and I lay awake,

N! 3Sn Ul UdlJidXbda lJ

Cfiarhttc Llizcibcth Touu,y.

trying to .,iid out all about it." Slie rccollectc 1 in after ycnr^
his look of mingled mirth and vexation as he said, '• What
will you be at twenty, if you dabble in met.iphysi/s before
you arc ten ? " I trjid was tried as a remedy, but did not su./

her minginat

When she wa , ■ , years old a heavy blow f ■11 uimn Charlotte ;
.he lost her heai ,% which she never regaled, 'I'he deafness
was complete ; and from this cau.vj she retired still more into
the regions of imagination through the medium of books and
of her own wild fancy. Sh- always attributed the '\^^{v\,^^^ to
the effects of mercury, "iUi which she was unmercifully dosed.
I rom this tune music was banished from the house. It no
longer aflurded pleasure to her father, now that she could not
.hare it with hi. Charlotte had always been passionately
fond of L id this delicate sympathy for her deprivation

deepened votion to him. Her health became more and

more deli( so that Mr. Browne decided upon trying a country
life, and for this purpose he exchanged parochial duties with a
friend in the country. There his daughter followed as nuu h as
possible the prescription of the i.hysician, •• to live in the open
air and to enjoy unbounded liberty." The results were much
destruction of frocks, and the tran -formation of the sickly,
overstrained, city child into a vigorous and blooming country
maiden, fond f gardening and rural occupations, f'oor Afrs.
llrowne found the carrying out of the prescription radier tryinj
lu her patience and very expensive.

One day her little brother repeated to Charlotte a conversa-
tion he had overheard between their j)arents. The mother
began : " Mr. B., this will never do, that girl cannot wear a fro( k
twice without spoiling it. The expense will ruin us." Her
husband replied : "Well, my dear, if I am to be ruined by
expense let it come in the shape of washerwomen's bills, not
m tliose of the apothecary and undertaker."

\gainst this and kindred decisions there was no appeal.
: Ir. Browne combated all efforts on the part of female friemls
to comi)rc3s the poor child into ^'whalebone and buckram"

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Consecrated Women.

and when assured by one lady that he could only expect as a
consequence that his daughter should become a cripple, he
replied : '* My child may be a cripple, ma'am, if such is God's
will ; but she shall be one of His making, not ours."

Once and once only did Charlotte try the experiment of
going counter to his wishes in this thing. It was on the
occasion of her first ball that she underwent the tight lacin^
then fashionable. She was heartily disgusted, however, with
the suffering entailed on head and chest, and when the evening
was over she relates that she flew to her chamber and " cut
the goodly fabric to pieces."

Charlotte Elizabeth describes the religion she had at this
time as being a sort of deism. Morning and evening
prayer was never omitted, and a " word uttered against the
Bible would kindle her into glowing resentment." After
spending the six working days of the week in the regions
of imagination and in the manual labour of gardening, she
rigidly put aside her favourite books on the Sabbath and
betook herself to her Bible and a sermon of Blair or some
kindred writer, returning to her light reading with renewed
zest on the Monday morning. At sixteen she was "intro-
duced" at a grand election ball, at which she received
"the compliments of the most polished and distinguished
of the successful candidates, for sundry political squibs said
to be full of point and drollery, which had been traced
home to her." She became very fond of dancing, but on the
whole loved best her life of retirement for the sake of the castle
building, and then admired herself for being less dissipated
than her young friends. So innate was this habit of day-
dreaming that while drawing, of which art she was very fond,
" every landscape or figure which she traced was the subject
of a separate romance." Time fails us to enter into the
stirring political and religious questions of that day. Char-
lotte, deaf as she was, threw herself into the discussion of
them with intense ardour. In early as in later life friendly
fingers must liave been quick to repeat interesting information

saw,

Ni 3sn oi udrjid±bda Lj

Charlotle Elizabeth To/ma.

K expect as a
L cripple, he
5uch is God's
s."

xpcriment of
was on the
tight lacing
Dwcvcr, with
1 the evening
2x and " cut

had at this
md e\ ening
^ against the
ent." After
t the regions
rdening, she
Sabbath and
51air or some
r'ith renewed
was " intro-
>he received
distinguished

squibs said
been traced
, but on the
of the castle
IS dissipated
abit of day-
3 very fond,

the subject
ter into the
day. Char-
iscussion of
life friendly

information

for her eager eyes, which took in everything with the greatest

rapidity.

The time had now come when the clierished son and
brother was to go forlh into the world. His sister describes
ium as ''manly, hardy, and intrepid in character, but in man-
r.crs sweet, genile and courteous." He was her admiration
and joy. and the two were still constant con:panions From
early cluldhood John had shown a taste for a militarv li/c, and
as he grew older the desire to be a soldier streni^^theiied' ' The
threatened invasion of Buonaparte was the bugbear of children
at the bcgmnmg of the century, and the volunteer movement
ha<l mflamcd the martial spirit. Mr. and Mrs. Brown*- were
anxious for their son to settle near them, and, with his natural
sweetness 01 disposition, it is probable he would have i-ivcn
up his Idea of becoming a soldier, had not his sister encou-
raged his wish with all the ardour of her nature. She says o,he
saw, "through the Iyi>g medium of romance, the glory and
the fame of a conqueror's wreath and a hero's grave, with all
i!ic vain merit of her own sacrifice'^ in sending away one so
beloved.

Her father gave a reluccant consent to the departure of his
only son ; and through ihe interest of the bishop, who went to
London for the purpose, a commission was procured at once
and John Browne started for Portugal to join his re-iment'
then " hotly engaged in the Peninsula." Tlie suddenness of
his departure was almost stunning, as his family had fondly
hoped for a delay in procuring his commission. From this
time Charlotte sought to fill the place of both daughter and
son to her father, and seldom cared to be absent from him even
lor an hour.

One friend of her childhood must be mentioned Although
slic had no direct religious teaching from her, she had the
{^;eh^ng that she owed something in after years to the prayers
■' her paternal grandmother. Probably she had as much
force of character as her granddaughter, who sympathised with
her independent rejection of anything in dress or manners

-4

m
f

• s

Consecrated Women,

wh'ch did not comport with her own t^ste or ideas of fitness
and propriety ; especially did she combat French fashions
and modes of thought. Charlotte was proud of the sprightly
old lady, "who would wear her own clean locks, half brown,
half grey, combed down under her cap of homely make,"
resisting the entreaties of other dames who submitted to be
frizzed, and curled, and powdered before going cut to an
evening party. And she never forgot her grandmother's
lecture upon something new iu the cut of a sleeve, ending
with the words : " I never wore a gown but of one shape ; and
because I don't follow the fashion the fashion is forced to
come to me sometimes, by way of a change. I can't help
that, you know, my dear ; but I never was fashionable on pur-
pose." She added something about " vanity and folly," which
latter remark made but little impression.

Two years after her brother's departure Charlotte passed
through a severe trial. There had been slight indications of
failure in her father's health, but he seemed so bright and
vigorous in mind that these warnings were disregarded ; and
when his daughter was sent for at midnight to find him dying
of apoplexy, the shock was terrible. As we have said before,
Charlotte was his devoted companion. Her mother was
absorbed in household matters, in which she took no interest j
so that the father and daughter, whose literary and political
interests were one, had become almost inseparable.

Having no religious comfort to fall back upon, Charlotte
Elizabeth just gave herself up to the *' luxur^' ''grieving alone,
brooding over the past, and painting the f.' in any colours
but those of reality."

Mr. Browne's income had been small, and he had not made
much provision for his family. His widow had a small annuity,
and Charlotte Elizabeth proposed to become a novel writer.

For some time she and her mother paid visits among their
friends, and finallv went to London to make a lono- stav with
some relatives. There Charlotte Elizabeth met with Captain
Phelan, a friend of her brother's, and one of his fellow officers

Nl 3Sn 01 Udioiaxbda LJ

Charlotte Elizabeth To una.

IS of fitness
ich fashioris
he sprightly

lialf brown,
;ncly make,"
mittcd to be
g cut to an
randinothcr's
ceve, ending

shape; and
is forced to
[ can't help
lable on pur-
folly," which

loite passed
idications of
bright and
yarded ; and
d him dying
said before,
mother was
no interest ;
md political

)n, Charlotte

ieving alone,

any colours

ad not made
nail annuity,
vel writer,
among their
f? stav with

o - V -

k'ith Captain
;llow ofTicers

in the Peninsula, Captain Browne had been accustomed to
show him his sister's letters, and Captain Phelan fell in love
with the writCi before he had seen her. They became
engaged shortly after meeting in London. Some of her friends
sirongly opposed the marriage, probably judging that a young
woman of her headstrong will was hardly a suitable companion
fur one of Captain Phelan's excitable temperament. Put she
was resolved to take her own way, and they were married.
We may not dwell upon the bitter sorrows whicli were the
result of this step. In after years Charlotte Elizabeth wrote
the history of her own life, in order that no prurient curiosity
miglit pry into the details of these sufferings.

Captain Phelan preceded his wife to Halifax, Nova Scotia,
whither his regiment (the 60th Rifles) had been ordered;
and he sent for her to follow him. Her passage was taken
in a splendid West Indiaman, which transported a large
body of troops. In the little circle of cabin passengers,
consisting of seventeen gentlemen and two ladies, she found
kind and courteous friends, who vied with each other in
caring for the high-spirited and talented young wife. Her
lonely position and her privation seemed to give her a claim
on the special attentions of those arouho. It was not very
easy to take care of her, however. One day when the sea
was running mountains high she was wrapped in a military
tloak and conducted on deck just to have a glance at the
fine sea. But one glance did not satisfy her, and nothing
would induce her to retire ; and as her conductor had not
nerve enough to remain, she was lashed to the mizen mast,
a-xl from that standpoint revelled in the grand and wonderful
turmoil around her. On another occasion, in a fearful storm,
when the captain had almost given up hope of saving the
vessel and there was great alarm among the passengers, Mrs.
Phelan was reported to be missing. She was at last found, by
a young officer, at one of the stern windows in the state cabin,
She had climbed three tiers of lockers to obtain this position,
and was "leaning out as far as she could reach, enraptured

■fcmfm

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Consecrated JVomcn.

beyond expression with the terrific grandeur of the scene."
'I'he officer reported her to the captain ; and as she refused to
leave the window, he sent tlie mate to i)ut uj) the dead hghts,
to her profound chagrin. She was at this lime perfectly with-
out fear of death, even to recklessness. At Halifax she rotle
a mare of Arab descent, which no one else could tame. Seated
on ai^ awkward country saddle, she had mad enjoyment in
exi^loring the country. 'J'hrowing herself entirely upon the
fond attachment of tlie beautiful creature, her life seems not to
have been endangered, for the least whisper, or gentle touch
of 'he hand, of her mistress, would restrain her; and for her
sake the noble animal would instantly give up her design of
bounding across some wild chasm, such as she hked to leap in
her frolics.

Charlotte Elizabeth remained more than two years in Nova
Scotia, and she mentions that she heartily repented her lack of
accpiirements in domestic matters, and she advises all young
ladies to enter upon the "obsolete study of housewifery."
Her straits were afterwards often recalled with a smile, but at
the time were "anything but laughable.'' She was befriended
by an old French soklier, who acted as mess cook and was
induced to give her a few lessons in cookery ; otherwise, she
says, they nnist have lived on "raw meal and salt rations
during weeks when the roads were completely snowed up and
no provisions could be brought in."

Once during the terrible cold she had a narrow escape of
losing the use of her fingers. Running to thaw them by the
fire of blazing fogots, she was met by a i^oor soldier, who
prevented her ajiproach by drawing his bayonet. He then
wrapped her hands in a cloth, and obliged her to walk up and
down the wide hall till the circulation returned, which it did
•' with a sensation of agony that well-nigh took away hei
senses." She naively remarks : " Had he, poor fellow, known
how busily those fingers would one day be employed against
his religion, for ho was a French Romanist, lie might have
been tempted to sheath his bayonet and give me free access
to the tempting fire."

Ni 3sn 01 udijidxbdti Lj

Char tot le Elizabeth Tonna,

Ai no time of her life could Charlotte Elizabeth look on
.^ulTcring unmoved, and the deep interest she took in the poor
liowntroddcn Indians gained for her their trust and aflection.
I'heir gratitude was especially drawn out by an act of kindness
ahc pcrf(jrmed in sheltering one of iheir number for a fjw
weeks. The poor creature had been " wounded in a most un-
provoked manner by the soldiers, and left to perish in tlie
woods," and she felt that it was a very simple act of duty thus
lo rescue a fellow-being from a cruel death.

It was a great joy to her when the time came to leave Hali-
lax, and when once again she trod upon English ground. The
iKxt event of her life was a stay of some years in Ireland.
Captain Phelan had in that country property, consisting of a
number of small holdings and cabins. Some legal difllculties
arising, he had gone there very soon after landing to see about
ihcm. Captain Browne was still in the Peninsula. He had
married about the same time as his sister, and had taken his
bride and his mother with him to Portugal, so that there was
little inducement to Charlotte Elizabeth to remain long in
J:n-land. But she dreaded going to Ireland. She looked
upon that country as a remote region and only half civilized,
and it seemed a *' sort of degradation " to her " to bear an
liisli name and to go there as a resident."

On her long journey thither she was befriended by an old
j^entleman who took a kind interest in the stranger. With true
Irish warmth he assured her, by writing, that he should take
the same care of her as of his own daughter, till he could give
her up to her natural protector. She thanked him with cold
politeness ; but his kindness to a poor woman and her ragged
infant, whom, with Charlotte Elizabeth's permission, he took
upside the coach, obliged her to confess inwardly that there
might be some nice people in Ireland. Another Irish gentleman,
finding how much she admired the Welsh scenery, handed in at
the coach window a note of every remarkable place as they
approached. Mr. F. was a finished gentleman, and, she says',
'a sad drawback to my perverse prejudices."

■/5

*■*.*

Consecrated 1 1 "o/ne/i.

After paying llic hotel charges at Ilolylicid, she llircw
away her last note, thinking it was the bill. \Vith no money
left she was determined to reach her husband - -ithout allow-
iRg her kind companions to know of her destitution. In
landing sIio had a narrow escape of her life. On stepping
upon the plank which connected the vessel with the wharf,
it began to slide. She lost her balance, when a sailor
raught her, and Mr. V., throwing himself on the ground, seized
and steadied the plank. She thus writes in after years : " I
sluidder to recall the hard-hearted indifference of my own
si)irit, while the kind, warm-hearted Irishmen were agitated by
very strong emotion, and all around me thanking God for my
escape. Kach of my friends thought I had landed under the
care ot the other, while one had my dog and the other my
portmanteau. I received their fervent ' Ccad mille failthc'
with cold politeness, and trod, witli feelings of disgust, on the
dear little green shamrocks that I now prize beyond gems."
Her friends proposed that all three should join in a postchaise,
and, having asked Mr. F. to keep an exact account of her
share of the charges, she took her seat with a light heart, her
dog being on the footboard. Upon a hilly road the horses
took fright, and broke into a full gallop, crossing and recrossing
the road in a fearful manner. The driver was thrown on to
the footboard, and poor Tejo hung by his chain. Charlotte
l^li/abelh, having experienced an overturn in Nova Scotia,
at once determined that she would not encounter another
Gathering up her riding habit, and putting her hand out of the
window, she opened the door and sprang out. Most provi-
dentially at that very moment the horses stopped. Picking
herself up (she had fallen flat on her face) she exclaimed
laughing : " Oh well, I suppose I am to love this country after
all, for I have kissed it in spite of me." Her friends refused
to receive her back into the chaise unless she positively pro-
mised to jump out no more. On reaching the hotel where
her husband was, she seized some money and paid her debt
without any one knowing that she had been penniless.

Nl 3Sn Ol UdlJidXbda Lj

Charlotte Elizabeth Tonna,

J, slic tlircw
ill no money
ithout allow-
Utution. In
On stepping
,h the wharf,
lien a sailor
"ound, seized
r years : " I
of my own
i agitated by
God for my
cd under the
le other my
mile fail the '
sgiist, on the
y'ond gems."
a postchaisc,
:ount of her
It heart, her
d the horses
id recrossin;:
hrown on to
Charlotte
■i^ova Scotia,
ter another,
td out of the
Most provi"
d. PickiniT
2 exclaimed
:ountry after
nds refused
)sitively pro-
hotel where
aid her debt
ess.

jler home was now in a very retired place, and many circum-
stances combined to make her life one of deep seclusion.
Captain Phelan was away in Dublin, and her chief occupation
'. onsisted in hunting out and coi)ying legal information from
family pa[)ers, relative to a lawsuit then pending. She hardly
cared to stir out, for she was ashamed to encounter th ; tenants
of the large number of neighbouring cabins, whose household
goods were periodically seized and put up for sale on account
of arrears for rent. It is true that this was not actually done
by the landlord, but the poor i)eople were not likely to make
a distinction between the landlord and his trustees or any
other party who had the right to institute such proceedings
against them. She was very unhappy, yet considering herself
better than her neighbours, and desiring to be looked upon
as an object of envy rather than of pity. Further, it was an
aristocratic little town, the social standing of the lone deaf
stranger was unknown, and her pride was wounded by the
neglect of those with whom she would naturally have asso-
ciated.

Thus kept in retirement, she came to the determina-
tion to give herself up to the observance of religious
duties and become a sort of Protestant recluse. She resolved
to pray three or four times daily, instead of twice ; but here
an unexpected change came over her mind. He, before Whom
she had been accustomed glibly to repeat a form of words
with little thought as to their meaning, now seemed to her so
terrible a being that she dared not pray. She tried to persuade
herself that her feelings were those of holy awe in approach-
ing God, and that in reality she was peculiarly the obje ' of
His approval; but nothing availed, she could not pray. i..ie
examined herself to see if there was any cause in herself, and
then the declaration of St, James gave her great trouble :
" Whosoever shall keep the whole law, and yet offend in one
point, is guilty of all." She tried the remedy so often tried,
and as often proved to be ineffectual ; she sought to bring
herself into obedience to the whole law. She wrote out all the

'tP"

CoiisantUd Women.

CO ,,„and, that sl,c was accustomed to ncglccl, an,I |,i„„,,l „p
.1 <I-/cn or two of Icxl. round her roon,. Soon tl.cse were
Ukcn .lovvn, ,t was so pai.iful to bo coufronted by their cm-
<lemm„(; „.„r.k every time she entered the room ; also she <li,l
.othke others to see then,. Next she wrote chnn, in ah

c^mni- l" "' T^'^-^T' ,"'"' '"■■'^'■' ■■• ^''•^'^'' ''"' •-■=•••'"« '■■•^^•''
comnnsson of sm; but the hook became a mass of black

ots ami, ren,en,I,er,„« that omission, of duty were also sins,

1 , "^ f ;■'"", " "■"" f'-l"-'--^<-'"t^"io,l of herself seemed

?, M ';?m' ^' '"'•"' ""•' ^""^ '"'° 'ho nre. She dare.l not

shew s , m'V' "'r ^° ''^'^" ">'°" ''"• 0'"»-dly

ness Death, upon wlucli she had looked so lightly, became

i,"ch r° -n, -'^T- "-'-"S '-" .-customed 'to ill he™!
u cc he childhood, a severe cold and sore throat terrified her,
for she thought certainly she was about to die

a nd !lL''''"°^ ri "" '"'■' '" "'•-■"='>'^'1'»=« and ,les,x.ir.

bv the vl,' T""-;' " "'"' '''^ •■■ "■•'S^'' '■'•^" ^'^ -»^ struck
by the youths humble confession of Ir.ving deserved from

elf. Ah, poor fellow, he is just like me I How dreadfL.l
us end must have been!" liu, as she read farther
found hun contun,ally m.aguifying ,|,e g„od„,,, „f J„7t
tlut while he was gmlly there was One able to save to the
uttornrost. who had borne his sins, opened the g.ates o heav'
and now waited to receive his ransou.ed soS T, iook
dropped l^on, her hands. " Oh, what is .hi. P This is w^a
I ua, t, ih,s would save me. Who did this for him ? Jesus
Chnst certamly, and >t must be written in the New Testament "
She sprang up to reach her Bible, but was overpowered by

words" '' ■"" "''"' "' ""'^' S'™ '" '-" <="■" "P^^«-

"I clasped my hands over my eve; ird M.-n ^t
blessed eftects of having even a hterafkuo'^lidgfof 'sc'i^nur':

Nl 3Sn 01 Qdl'JIdXbdd LJ

Charlotte Elizabeth Tonna,

nd pinned tip
n these were
)y their con-
also she (lid
n in a little
against each
:iss of black
re also sins,
self seemed
le dared not
Outwardly
.'ss of dark-
Uly, became
o ill health
terrified her,

nd desi)air.
rived from
his father.
was struck
crvod from
cd to her-
w dreadful
farther she
of God in
save to the
of heaven,
The book
is is what
n ? Jesus
estament."
3\vered by
expressive

then the
Scripture

\vas apparent. 'Memory brought l)cforc me, as the Holy Spirit

iirec ted it, not here and there a detac hed text, but whole

. hapters, as they had long been conunitted to its safe but

hilherlo unprofitable keeling. 'I'he veil was removed from

my licait ; and Jesus Christ, as the Alpha and Omega, the sum

, tid substance of everything, shone out upon me just as He

It r.nli in the everlasting gosi)el. It was the same as if I

iuul been reading, because I knew it so well by rote, only much

more rapid, as thought always is. In this there was nothing

un(()nniion ; but in the c/-,///,/;' of the undcrstaiulur^, that /

mi;ht uiuicrsiand the Scilpttircs, was the mighty miracle of

Lr I. c and truth. 'I'liere I lay, still as death, my hands still

ln!<lc(l over my eyes, my very soul basking in the pure, calm,

hnly light that streamed into it through the appointed channel

cf Cod's word. Rapture was not what I felt; excitement,

agitation, there was none. I was like a person long enclosed

iu a dark dungeon, the walls of which had fallen down, and

1 looked round on a sunny landscape of calm and glorious

i)cauty. I well remember that the Lord Jesus, in the character

of a shepherd, of a star, and, above all, as the i)earl of great

price, seemed revealed to me most beautifully; that He could

.-ave everybody I at once saw ; that He would save me never

tvcn took the form of a question.

" After some time I rose from the sofa, and walked about ;
my feelings were delicious. I had found Him of whom'
Moses, in the law, and the prophets did write; I had
found the very Paschal Lamb, whose blood would be my
safeguard from the destroying angel. Oh, how delicious
was that particular thought to me ! It was one of the
first that occurred, and I laughed with gladness. Indeed,
my fecHng was very joyous, and I only wanted somebody
to tell it to. I had two ser\ .; .s, one a young woman, the
other a little girl, both papists, both loving me with Irish
warmth. They were delighted to sec me so well and hai>py
on a sudden, and m the evening I bade them come to my
room, for I was going to read a beautiful book and would

nam

CoHsccyatcd Women.

rc.Kl It aloud. I began the Gospel of St. ^ratthcw^ and read
/nnc (haptcrs to them, their wonder and delight increasing
my joy. Wl .never I i)roposed leaving oft" they begged for
more; and only for my poor throat I think we should have
gone on till day. I jirayed with them, and what a night's rest
I had ! Sleep so sweet, a waking so happy, and a joy so un-
clouded through the day, what but the gospel could bestow?
Few, very few, have been so i)rivileged as I was, to be left
alone with the infallible teaching of Cod the Holy Ghost, ' y
means of the written word, fur many wch ks, and so to get a
thorough knowledge of the great doctrines of salvation, un-
clouded by man's vain wisdom. I knew not that in the world
there were any who had made the same discovery with myself.
CJf all schemes of doctrine I was wholly ignorant, and the
only system of theology open to me was God's own. All the
faculties of my mind were roused and brightened for the work.
I prayed without ceasing for Divine in^truetion, and took with-
out cavilling what was vouchsafed."

She now thankfully felt the benefit of the enforced seclusion
which had kept her separate from worldly associates. At this
time she had no religious book e.xcei)t the IJible, was not ac-
quainted with any clergyman ; and had there been a gospel
ministry near she would not have attended in consequence of
her deafness. She therefore gave herself up to the study of
the Scrii)tures during some weeks, and obtained, she says, *' a
new view of the whole scheme of redemi)tion and God's deal-
ings widi man, which she never afterwards found reason to
alter save as greater light broke in on each branch of the
subject, strengthening not changing these views."

She was still engaged in the uninteresting occupation of copy-
ing legal documents. The fact of her being always employed
m writing led to her being looked upon as a literary character,
and a lady personally unknown to her sent her a parcel
of tracts. One paper was a plea for the distribution of tracts,
and she was thus introduced to a means of disseminating irulh'
rjuitc new to her. The thought entered her mind that since

Nl db'M UlUdXJIdXbdO LJ

Cliarlottc Elizabeth Tonna.

icw, and read
;ht increasing
■y l)c^'gcd for
sliouki have
a night's rest
a joy so un-
Duld bestow?
as, to be left
oly Cihost, ' y
\ so to got a
sah/ation, un-
\ in the world
r with myself,
•ant, and the
vn. AH the
for the work,
nd took with.

ccd seclusion
tes. At this

was not ac-
sen a gospel
isequcnce of

the study of
she says, " a

God's deal-
id reason to
ranch of the

ion of copy-
ys emi)loyed
ry character,
er a parcel
Dn of tracts,
nating tniiii
d that since

he could not give money she might help by writing a tract.
Hiving a long ( .cning before her, she, with her usual energy,
bjt to work at once. By three in the morning she had com-
l»L'lcd a little story in which was set forth the truth as it is in
Jesus; and on reading over what she had written, she was
aiiKized to find that she had been enabled to exhibit so
completely the fulness of the gospel message. In so simple
a manner did Charlotte Elizabeth's literary labours begin.
Waking full of joy after her short night's sleep, she was puz/lcd
to know what she could do with her little book, ^ust then
a note arrived from Miss 1). (the lady who had sent the
tracts the day before), enclosing the address of the Dublin
Tract Society, and mentioning her desire that lie stranger
might be induced to contribute to the publications of that
Association. The manuscript was at once sent off to the
address, and cordially received, and more asked for. The
Secretary suggested frequent intercourse with the peasants as
a means of enabling her to understand more fully their simple
modes of thought. When she replied that her loss of hearing
was a bar to such intercourse,* and gave a little sketch of the
I.<jrd's dealings with her, his warm expressions of Christian
sym[)athy and interest rejoiced her heart in the feeling that
she had found *' a brother in the faith." Only a few days
after, she heard that this newly found friend had broken a
bloodvessel and was dying. He commended her to his
brother, who proved a kind adviser and helper to her in her
literary work. On the way from his broti r's funeral this
gentleman passed through the place in which she resided, and
called upon her, and his conversation was so truly the over-
tlowing of a heart devoted to Christ that it left her longing for
more Christian fellowship.

■>IPi

* Afterwards this difficulty seems to have been overcome, for Charlotte
I'.lizaljctli had larffc intercourse with ihe poor both in Ene'and. am! Ire-
'•ind. Probably in her visits to them she was accompanied hy some of her

liicnds.

Consecrated Women.

i< 11 , , J^ii-'^i'ia. 5/ie writes of these fri.Mirk- .

and generous fcelin, a"d n ..^^ '",T"'= "'"' ^'•^'°"'
">c„t af.er such a lo . t " / ' r ' ' '•''"' "'^ "''°>-

but (.0(1 to speak to about her soul's interests • for i
seemed as if the verv nleisnro nf .^ /"tcrests , lor it

friends broke .he hJJ:^7\^rZ2:^%'';r ""''
wl..ch had been so .n^spcakably i o '^ r ' n:;'?,'";
she had accc,ue.l the sh„plc teaching of the Neiv ToZ

nc,uanued .i.h thei^ oA; :tlr,:r:hr;rt

IrcUmd, she was inexpressibly distrAsed bv . °^°°' '"

evils which it entailed' I.a,er'o,^ "^ ^l , i:;';'^''"^-^''
have sometimes carried her a,vav T, ^^ ^"' '"'■'>'

occurred to her that her Jl:: ,on a h ^ .ir: ^ .^^'^
else that s]>e believed to be untrue could bi *i "°
charitable. They partook of the d.ar^t^: o rtl^:: s i;r
dignation against enor, and ze-d for th^ t . i- ^'^^^°"^ "^-
...c old prophets felt, .hen groranhlM'r.e^t^-- ^cvil^

irx^h? r-; ri:^":i? rr? tt^ »'^ -;;::

thought it dishonourable to^ithh:^!.;™ ,„t Ta ^'inld
she iiad craved to be a martyr. There is rei.on u^ i r
off,,^ „i 1 J • • , ^ ^ *- *^ reason to believe tnt

after she had given in her allegiance to her I nrri n It^ '

His deal sake. Jt has been necessary to sny so r-H, ;.
order to vindicate the character of one who while she i, .'^
against systems „hieh she believed to bV wtlt Vir.t:;

Ni 3sn 01 a3±'jidi.bdtj LJ

Charlotte Elizabtth Tonua.

^fr. D. intro-

- a missionary
these friends:

warm li carted

their zealous
n, my enjoy-
^■c loneliness,
late welcome
s tlicy can ! "
', and yet she
'■"^ had none
rests; for ft

^vith earthly
1 Jlim alone,
". Nov.- that
w Testament

which con-
re intimately

the poor in

widespread
subject may
^'er to have

or anything
leemed iin-
ighteous in-
use such as
'ght of evils
His people,
vould have

As a child
>elievc that,
• and King,
joyfully for
3 mucli in

- inveighed
erroneous,

i^as yet tender of sincere-hearted individuals attached to such
svstems.

A few months after she had written her first tract Captain
Phelan was ordered abroad again, and his wife remained
in Ireland, where she became mainly dependent upon her
own exertions. Her mother had joined her. She also had
accepted the fliith and hope of the gospel, so that the
tu-o were in sym])athy. In the summer of 1821 they
both paid a visit at Vicarsfield, the lovely residence of Dr.
Hamilton, Rector of Knocktopher, near Kilkenny. This
ii oly man and his wife were devoting themselves and their
income to the good of others ; and while their hospitality to
their friends was unbounded, their benefits to the poor were
widely dispensed. Roman Catholics and Protestants were
relieved without distinction ; but as the Romanists numbered
twelve hundred and the Protestants only one hundred, the
former must have had by far the larger share of the benefits
dispensed. In the large roomy vicarage a dozen girls were
being trained for service by a ma n under Mrs. Hamilton's
wise supervision. While all seemed peaceful and prosperous
within, a small cloud, no bigger than a man's hand, was
descried even then by the venerable pastor; but he hid his
fears of a coming tempest from those around.

It was about this time that signs of disaffection towards the

Protestants became apparent in many parts. A book called

the '-Prophecies of Pastorini" had been written by a priest.

It was a commentary on the Book of Revelation, and the

writer explained the ascent of the locusts out of the bottomless

pit as prefiguring the rise of the Protestants with Luther at their

head. He calculated their continuance from 1525 to 1825.

The book was much read, and portions of it were circulated

among the lower orders throughout the country. The conse-

(pience was that the belief became rooted in the minds of

many of these that the Protestants in Ireland and elsewhere

were to be put to death by Divine appointment in the year

1825. They accordingly prepared to execute this design,

■X. m

Consecrated Women.

while those of a higher class used every efifort to avert the
catastrophe by proselytizing their Protestant friends and
neighbours. The peasants now began to change their natu-
rally polite and respectful manners, often putting on a defiant
air. Threatening notices were served on landlords who
presumed to dispose of their property as they chose ; and
upon the clergy who, in default of payment, were obliged
to serve processes for the tithe. There were other indications
of an approaching storm, but as yet all seemed quiet at
Vicarsfield. After a long and delightful visit Charlotte
Elizabeth and her mother decided upon Kilkenny as their
home. I.. ;).at quiet retreat the former had full opportunity
for writing. She was also glad to be away from the i.opeless
position of landlord, which she had accepted, over the poor
tenants who had learned to love and trust her. The diffi-
culties were inextricable "between head landlord, under
tenants, trustees, receiver, and all the endless machinery of
an embarrassed little Irish estate," so that to continue her
" nominal office " seemed to be only waste of strength and
feeling. She therefore retired to seek "an honest inde-
pendence in the way of usefulness."

At Kilkenny there was a convent which was very attractive
to strangers visiting the place, as well as to the residents.
Many sought to induce Charlotte Elizabeth to enter its walls '•
but she would have considered it a compromise of her prin-
ciples to visit such a place out of mere curiosity. But when a
lady brought her a message from *' the most interesting nun "
in the institution that she would be very glad of some instruc-
tion in the best way of imparting ideas to a mute in the
school, she was at once ready to give her services.

It was no doubt already well known in the place that
Charlotte Elizabeth had found out some deaf and dumb
peasant children to whom she gave instruction. The nun was
naturally lovely and attractive, and soon twined herself round
the warm heart of her instmrtrecc Shp v"- ♦ii- -.v-u -•
mixed marriage, the husband being a Romanist and the wife a

Nl 3Sn Ol UdXJldXbrJa LJ

Charlotte Elizabeth Tonna,

to avert the
friends and
e their natu-
; on a defiant
ndlords who
chose ; and
ivere obh'ged
!r indications
ncd quiet at
iit Charlotte
nny as their
I opportunity
the lAopeless
)ver the poor
r. Tlie diffi-
ilord, under
nachinery of
:ontinue her
strength and
loncst inde-

!ry attractive
e residents,
ter its walls ;
of lier prin-
But when a
esting nun "
>me instruc-
nute in the

place that
and dumb
"he nun was
erself round
■ child of a
d the wife a

Protestant. The usual arrangement was made that the boys
were to be educated in the father's and the girls in the
mother's religion. T'le family consisted only of daughters,
who were all bro.t u up Protestants. On tlie death of the
father, the priests ?c successfully worked upon the feelings of
tlie widow and her family that all except this one joined the
Romish communion. With her the priests had much trouble,
and the means which were at last successful in bringing her
out of her own church were altogether unjustifiable. She
became a nun, and entered with zeal into conventual life. She
seems to have had a great desire to influence her new friend,
and begged her to read some Roman Catholic books, that she
might fairly judge of the merits or demerits of her church.
Charlotte Elizabeth accepted the challenge on condition that
the nun should read her comments on what she read. This
was agreed to. During one of the early visits to the convent
Charlotte Elizabeth had an experience which is so character-
istically described by her that we must give it in her own
words. She went round the garden at the nun's request, and
followed her " sweet conductor " up the steps of what she
imagined to be a schoolroom. She writes: "judge what was
my dismay when, on passing the folding doors, I found myself
in a splendid Popish chapel, opposite the altar, over which
shone a richly gilt cross, while my poor nun was prostrated
in the lowliest adoration, touching the ground with her fore-
head, before the senseless idol. I was confounded, and unable
to say anything ; but after a hasty glance at the fine trappings
left the place, secretly praying for grace and strength to protest
openly against the abomination from which my soul revolted
from the moment of my witnessing the act of idolatrous
homage rendered to a thing of wood and stone."

The volume first lent to Charlotte Elizabeth by the nun
was Dr. Milner's " End of Controversy," which was procured
from a seminary of Tesuit nriests. Whon cV.^ h^H ^»,-»-r>r1
reading it, she burst into tears, and kneeling down exclaimed :
" Lord, I cannot unravel this net of iniquity ; enable me to

Consecrated Women.

cut It in twani ! » Then the « broad view of the whole scheme
of man's salvation as revealed in Holy Scriptures " appeared
to her as tlic best antidote to the poison. With renewed zest
Siic read through the New Testament, and wrote out a plain
statement of the gospel plan and sent it to the convent
Another book was lent, and another reply written out. The
heart of the writer yearned over the nun, and hoped that her
words might be blessed to the poor girl ; but soon the latter
managed to let her know that not a word of what she had
written was shown to her. This disclosure filled Charlotte
Elizabeth's honourable mind with pain and indignation.
_ Another attempt was made to influence her by offering her
tickets to see a nun take the veil, and an interpretation of the
ceremony was written out by her friend and sent with a kind
httle note. Charlotte Elizabeth had some curiosity to be
present, but she /elt that she could not go into such a scene
with a peaceful mind ; and tliough it pained her to hurt the
feelings of her "gentle nun," she refused the invitation as
gratefully and delicately as she could. She says, in reference
to her refusal, "My heart danced so lightly in my bosom after
It, that I trust there is no danger of my ever trying what sort
of a sensation a contrary line of conduct would produce "
Many times afterwards she went to the convent, hoping to see
her friend, but in vain. She was now rapidly failing in health
and was reported to be confined to her apartment. Just before
leaving Kilkenny Charlotte Elizabeth called once more as an act
of civility, and while waiting in the parlour her young friend burst
into the room, and, sitting down by her, threw her arms round
her neck, exclaimi.:g " I was resolved to see you once more "
Before she could say another word, three elderly nuns came in
and forced her away, and her friend saw her no more. During
a whole year she prayed constantly for the loveiy girl with
fervent cries for her salvation, and four years after learned that
she had died about the time that she had ceased to pray for
her.

The next endeavour put forth to proselytize Charlotte

Nl 3Sn Ol Udlw».dJ.bda LJ

Charlotte Elizabeth Tonna.

Elizabeth came through a poor lad, the brother :jf one of
her deaf and dumb pupils. His appeals in his strong Irish
brogue (which his spelling revealed to her) caused her con-
siderable amusement whenever he called upon her.

" I wouldn't like," said Pat, " that you wou'd go to hell."

" Nor I either, Pat."

" But you are out of the thrue church, and you won't be
saved, and I must convart ye."

And with this intent he induced her to read Butler's
Catechism. For days the controversy went on, " Butler " versus
the Bible. Pat showed himself very acute in defending his
church, but the result of the discussion was that he was led to
read the Bible ; ar.d the bread-corn then cast upon the waters
was found after six years, when, in a little English church, Pat
and his dumb brother Jack worshipped side by side, together
rejoicing in the same Saviour. Jack was apparently the most
stupid of the four deaf and dumb children who daily came to
their kind friend for instruction. She almost repented having
attempted to teach this boy, but one day on lifting the heavy
mass of black hair from his forehead she saw such a noble
and beautiful brow that she could not but persevere in her
arduous labour of love. Jack's mind suddenly broke its bonds,
and the eager "What?" spelled on his fingers, about every-
thing he could lay his hands upon, kept his teacher well
employed. But a difficulty arose when he woke up to ask
the difference between himself and the noble dog which
played with him. Then followed the questions, " How was
the sun made, and who made it? did his mother? the clergy-
man? the priest?" "No!" Then "What? what?" with
an impatient stamp. Charlotte Elizabeth spelled the word
"God," and looked up solemnly. Jack appeared struck.
Next day he wanted to know more. His teacher was rot
satisfied with the information she was able to give ; but with
a vocabulary of about a dozen nouns she found it di^cult to
communicate much about unseen things. The next day he
came to her in great wrath, signing that her tongue ought to be

•>■

!-!«•

"Si

JOO

Consecrated Women.

pul ed out (his sign when a He had been told). He had
looked everywiiere, but could not fmd God. He had seen no
one tall enough to stick the stars into the sky, etc etc He
repeated over and over again "God-no! God-no'" till
It went to her heart. She looked up for help and guidance to
convey the teaclung which she felt to be of such paramount im-
portance. She sat silent, when a thought struck her. Presently
she reached the bellows, and, after pufllng at the fire, suddenly
directed a blast upon Jack's little red hand." He was angrv
and when It was repeated he began shivering. She gave
another puff and looked unconscious of having done anythincr
and said " What ? ; Then she puffed in all dnections, looki^'"
at the pipe and imitating him, saying, " Wind-no," shaking
her head and tellmg him /./. tongue must be pilled Zl
After much impatience on his part the mysterious truth
dawned upon him. Charlotte Elizabeth thus describes t' '

panted ; a deep crimson suffused his whole face, and a soul,
a real soul, shone in his strangely altered countenance, while
he triumphantly repeated, 'God like wind ! God like ^vind -'
He had no word for ' like ' ; it was signified by holding the two
forefingers out, side by side, as a symbol of perfect resem
blance. She say. it was deeply interesting and touching to
see how completely he received the idea of God as a holy and
oving Father, entering into the minute things of every dav

lZT\^ Y ''''''^ '^' ^^-" ^"^ ^^^^^^ a""«alsf and
^anted to fish; but now he became "most exquisitely tender
towards every thing living, moving his hand over them in a
caressing way, and saying, ' God made ! ' ^'

The next step wa. ^o teach him the knowledge of a Saviour
Jack had noticed funerals passing, and had seen dead bodS
placed m their coffins, and one evening he asked if the dead
would ever open their eyes again. His teacher caught at th^s
question, prayerfully hoping to be able to open uVto ^b
some thoughts touchin^r the wav of cnlvo.ion She -'- '
on a paper persons young and old, and near by a pit with

Nl 3Sn 01 Udl'JIbXbdtj LJ

Id). He hatl
'• had seen no
etc., etc. He
0(1— no ! " till
J guidance to
)aramount im-
cr. Presently
fire, suddenly
le was angry,
She gave
one anything.
tion.s, looking
-no," shaking
• pulled out
tcrious truth
lescribes l! ^

at me, and
-, and a soul,
^nance, while
I like wind ! '
ding the two
rfect resem.

touching to
s a holy and
f every day.
nimals, and
'itely tender
•r them in a

f a Saviour,
dead bodies

if the dead
ught at this

up to him
'S sketched
^ a pit with

Charlotte Elizabeth Toana.

lOI

flames issuing out of it. She told him all people were bad,
and God would throw them into the fire. When he was
thoroughly frightened she sketched the figure of a man, who,
she told him, " was God's Son ; that He came out of heaven ;
He had not been bad, but allowed Himself to be killed, and
then God shut up the pit, so the people were spared." After
a few inoments' thought Jack asked with his expressive
" \\ hat ? " how it was that whife those who were saved were
many, He who died was only one. A bunch of dead flowers
had been inadvertently (not accidentally) left in a vase, and
Ch.ulotte Elizabeth took these, and, cutting them in innumer-
able pieces, laid them in a heap on the table, and beside them
her gold ring, and asked him which he would like, *' many—
or one ?" Jack struck his hand on his forehead, then clapped
both hands, gave a leap from the ground, and signed that the
piece of gold was better than a roomful of dead flowers.
"With great rapidity he pointed to the picture, to the ring, to
hnnself, to his teacher, and lastly to heaven." A bright smile
covered his face, his eyes were sparkling with delight. Then
came a rush of tears, and, with a softened look he spelled
slowly on his fingers the words "Good One\ good OneV
and asked His name.
She thus refers to this memorable tim_e :
" He received [the name of Jesus] into his mind, and the
gospel, the glorious, everlasting gospel, into his soul, and the
Holy Spirit into his heart. ... In the same hour it was
given hnn to believe, and from that hour all things were his—
the world, life, death, and a bright immortality. Never but
once before had I laid my head on the pillow with such an
overwhelming sense of happiness. The Lord had indeed
shown me His glory, by causing His goodness to pass before
nie."

A second visit which she paid about this time to Vicarsfield
J was a great contrast to the first. Dr. PT.imilton was broken in
liealth, owing largely to the anxiety caused by the sorrowful state
of the country. He had been repeatedly threatened by those who

102

Consecrated Women.

grudged him the tithes which he used so generously for the
benefit of his parishioners; but he bore all with -touching
patience.;' So critical was the state of the neighbourhood that
he mansion was barricaded in nightly preparation for an attack,
thougli no firearms were allowed in the house. These trials
were borne with cheerful Christian resignation, and Mrs. Hamil-
ton entertained her guests with the warm-hearted, thoughtful
kindness of other days. Charlotte Elizabeth says that she
Iclt It a privilege to be there, and she lay down peacefully
at night knowing that she might die a violent death before
morning. We have no wish to duell on troubles which have
ong passed away, and will finish the history of Vicarsfield
here, in order not to recur to the subject. Two or three
years later the pastor and his wife were forced to leave
their once peaceful and happy home, and they left it for
ever. They were stripped of everything and driven away
by those who were thus despoiling their best friends.
Iruly these poor ignorant creatures knew not what they did
Charlotte Elizabeth says that one thing perplexed her. As
the Irish peasants showed themselves more and more blood-
thirsty towards the Protestants (she was herself specially
marked out as a victim), so did her love for them increase.
1 his was probably owing to her strong belief that the
people themselves were not the instigators of the wron-s
done. They blindly followed their leaders at the peril of
their lives She describes them as naturally the most loving
and loveable race under the sun. With her keen powers of
observation she marked how, from the cradle to the grave
the untutored peasants were kept in leading strings. They
could do nothing of their own free will, and seeing how those
who held them down tried also to keep them in a state
of darkness, she realized it to be her mission to do all in her
power to brmg them into the light and liberty of the children
of God. Her little books and tracts became very popular, and
he uterary work carried on for her own support was a "perfect
luxury whenever these little messengers carried with them

Ni 3sn 01 aai'jidibda

Charlotte Elizabeth Tonna,

103

ously for the
h " touching
ourliood that
for an attack,

These trials

Mrs. Ilamil-
d, thoughtful
ays that she
'n peacefully
death before

which have
f Vicarsfield
'wo or three
ed to leave
/ left it for
Iriven away
est friends,
lat they did.
;d her. As
nore blood-
;lf specially
m increase.
2f that the
the wrongs
he peril of
nost loving
I powers of

the grave,
igs. They

how those
in a state
) all in her
le children
jpular, and
a "perfect
vith them

spiritual Messing to the people so dear to her." Ilcr plan for
siini)lif> :..^ her narratives is worthy of the consideration of
aery one who writes for the uneducated. If, on reading each
manuscript to a child of five years, she found "a single word
or sentence above his comprehension, it was instantly corrected
to suit that lowly standard."

In 1S24 Charlotte Elizabeth was recalled to England. She
would have chosen to remain in Ireland, and share, with a
beloved circle of friends, any events which 1825 might unfold.

One desire was strong within her. As her dumb boy's love
to his Saviour increased, he had, of his own accord, turned
away from the church of his fathers ; and she wished to take
him with her to England, in order that nothing might hinder
his growth in the spiritual life. Shortly after he had received
into his heart the " Name which is above every name " he
discovered that the figure before which he bowed in chapel
was a representation of the Lord Jesus Christ. His indigna-
tion knew no bounds, and he signed that he would never go
into the chapel again. His friend told him what would be the
conseciuences of such a course, and that he would be taken
away from her. He seemed depressed, but at the time of the
next service he went off in good spirits, and, running up the
outside stairs to the organ loft, remained there during the
service " listening " to the vibrations of the organ. This he
continued to do as long as he remained in Kilkenny. When
Charlotte Elizabeth applied to his parents for leave to take
him to England ; they gave a ready permission. They knew
that his mind had been developed by her and that she had
taught him everything he knew, and his mother said, with
tears, " Take him, he is more your child than ours " ; and his
father exclaimed, "Why shouldn't we let him go with you,
seeing he would grieve to death if left behind ! " When she
said that she could not promise that he would not embrace
her religion, they interrupted her, saying " he could come to
no harm under her care." Jack was now about twelve years
old. At Dublin, on their way to England, he offered, for the

104

Consecrated Women,

absence increa™ 1™' ^' '"'""•' "'^ ''"'""'^ P-.rae,cd

.-.nd m,iny times a day he would turnalook o L^r '"™""'

fear when - talking to God." ''''''°°^' ^"^ ^^^ had no such
At Clifton Charlotte Elizabeth was murl, inf . , ■

ines were ace hv .« 1 ^"^.^^^P^'^e for one, whose writ-

gs were acc.nub.e in the Ju^^hest hteraiy circles, to turn

Ni 3sn 01 aai'jiwibdd lj

Charlotte Elizabeth Tonna.

105

es, to turn

aside into humble paths and become a pioneer in writing
homely narratives and ballads for the encouragement of tlie
poor in all that is pure and good and holy.

After ten yt.rs' absence the longed for brother at last re-
lumed, to tie unspeakable joy of his sister, and soon for her
there was a bright oasis in her desert life. She de-scribes the
dark days before this event. "Many, and slurp, and bitter
were the trials left unrecorded here, and shame be to the hand
that shall ever dare to lift the veil which tender charity would
cast over what was God's doing, let the instruments be what
and who they might. It is enough to say that even now I
know that there was not one superfluous stroke of the rod,
nor one drop of bitter that could have been spared from the
wholesome cup. Besides, He dealt most mercifully with me ;
those two blessings, health and cheerfulness, were never with-
drawn. I had not a day's illness through years of tribulation ;
and though my spirits would now and then fail, it was but a
momentary depression ; light and buoyant, they soon danced on
the crest of the wave that had for an instant engulfed them."

Captain Browne was now appointed to a regiment just
returned from foreign service. He had leave to study for two
years at Sandhurst, '' the better to qualify himself for a future
staff appointment;" and he engaged a sweet retired cottage on
Bagshot Heath for his family. Plere he brought his sister, and
a dciiglitful room was appropriated to her, with an injunction
to make the most of the time while he was away at the college
that she might be ready " to walk, to ride, to farm, to garden
with him on his return." His bright presence seemed to bring
back to her the days of her youth, and very delightful was the
unrestrained intercourse between the brother and sister. This
season under the shelter of her brother's roof was one of com-
parative freedom from anxiety, and most propitious for writing;
but a difficulty arose. For the protection of her own interests
^he found that she must no longer attach her name to her
puDheations. At this juncture a friend offered her plenty of
woiK and remuneration in writing novels for the most popular

io6

Consecrated J J 'omen.

magnzmc of the day. The talcs were to be moral, but to have
no di.unct reference to religion. This proposal was followed
Tc^t-' from an old friend, who wished her to re-write for hi.n
a flm ^ love tal- whieh he had years before unsuccessfully
i led. She at owce felt that she niusr refuse both offers,
and tlu. at a moment when she particularlv wished to be no
burden to her brother. She felt that her publications written
fur the sinrmii) good of her fellow men had been owned and
b *;.ssed of God. She felt that He had called her to work fur
Hmi, nnd she could not la..*- herself out of the path of usefiil-
m^\ Her old frien<I, whose assistance would probably have
included provision for her life, now withdrew from her, and she
heard of h.m no more. No one in her circle could understand
her motives for the course she had taken, but she was able to
<ommit her cause imto Him who judgeth righteously, and He
made a way for her. Her friends of the Hublin Tract Society
resolved, at some risk, still to accept her writings, and thouiih
the advantage derived from this source was small she was
thankful to rcmam in connection with them. Not long after,
Mr. Sandford, a gentleman who had promoted her literary
abours,sent her a handsome gift, "which left her," she says,
no loser " by doing her duty.

During the two years spent at Bagshot Heath her rapid pen

proauced seven volumes, and more than thirty small books

and tracts, besides contributions to periodicals. It was a

great satisfaction to her that one of her little books found its

way into the papal Index Expurgatorius. A friend of hers

a widow lady, had taken her only daughter, a child of ten to

taly for her health. The little girl, who loved Charlotte

I'.lizabeth devotedly, chose one of her little books to translate

into Italian. She did not live to finish it, but begged her

mother to go on with it, trusting it would be blessed to Italian

children. The mother found so much solace in carrying

out the wishes of her child that she translated sev-ral more

and had them printed and circulated. One v,;.;. ..^^j,.

of the conversion of a physician, a Romanist, rhio luct^e-

N" dsn o L aai'jiaibdd u

al, but to have
I was followed
-write fur luin
unsuccessfully
5c both offers,
hcd to be no
:ations written
m owned and
cr to work fur
lath of usefid-
)rubably have
1 her, and she
Id understand
le was able to
jusly, and He
Tract Society
i, and though
nail she was
ot long after,
1 her literary
icr," she says,

her rapid pen

small books

i. It was a

:)ks found its

end of liers,

Id of ten, to

-■d Charlotte

i to translate

begged her

ed to Italian

in carrying

•everal more

i ^h scans

'his idct bc-

Charlotte Elizabeth Tonna. 107

came known to the Archbishop of Siena, and he gave orders
that from the altars under his jurisdiction the priests ','ouId
interdict all books from the pen of s. dangerous a writf nc

poor priest had given away numbers of these little books and
on the day in ques ion, after mass, !„^ told his people that he
had a paniful duty to perform. He then read the denuncia-
tions agamst the said publications. He directed his flock to
bring back to him, or burn, or in some way get rid of, the
obnoxious books. He added : «' Neverthel ss I declare, in the
siL^ht of God, I found no evil in those dear little books but
on the contrary they are full of good." He then burst 'into
tears and many wept with him. She writes:"! would not
exchange for the value of the three kingdoms, ten times tripled
the joy that I felt in this high honour put upon me, the rich
blessing of the Papal curse."

The happy days in the cottage home were passing very
swiftly. Jack was a great favourite with Captain lirowne, who
luad quickly caught his expressive sign language, and the two
conversed easily together. Charlotte Elizabeth harl brought
the boy up usefully, knowing that in the event of her death he
would have to get his own living ; and when Captain Browne
expressed his intention of keeping a horse Jack pleaded hard
to take charge of it. He confided to lier that he thought a
man servant would shake hands with the devil (his ^gn for
,;^iv:ng way to temptation), and if he shook hands with the man
^.is hand would also one day be drawn into that of the devil'
lie also said that Captain Browne was very kind to Mam and
a servant would cost money and eat a great deal, but Jack
^^ould take no money and only eat small potato, small meat."
Jack had been privately to a kind friend of his, a non-com-
missioned officer of cavalry, to get instruction in managing
worses. He had profited so well by his lessons that he was
ound to be really competent to the work, and when a second
iiorse and a cow were added to the establishment he rmve his
mends no rest till he had received permission to tryif hecoidd
n^annge all three, and very proud he' became of his position.

-S

"IP

io8

Consecrated Women,

In this constant and congenial occupation he grew into a fine
and vigorous youth, his mind wholly uncontaminated by evil
associaiions. Besides this work he took much interest in
using his pencil, and some of his drawings were beautifully
done. Another baby had been added to the family and the
"beautiful baby boy" seemed to fill Jack's heart, and he often
poured oat his unspoken prayers for him. He had sweet
thoughts about little children. He said that when a baby was
learning to walk Jesus took hold of its hand and guided it
and that when it fell He placed His hand between its head
and the floor to save it from being hurt.

To Charlotte Elizabeth the full life at the cottage was most
restful. From her own window she had a view of the college,
and every day, " when she saw the preparatory movement for
breaking up, she rose from her writing, tied on her bonnet, and
went off to meet her brother." In the freedom enjoyed after
SIX hours' hard work their naturally high spirits rose till they
were like children let loose from school. The afternooa was
often passed in gardening, or looking after their little farm the
children gambolling about and Jack looking on with great
delight. His admiration for " beautiful Captain Browne," as
he called him, knew no bounds. At ten the brother and sister
separated for the night, Charlotte Elizabeth to write till long
after midnight, her brother to rise at four and study for several
hours before they met in the morning. They visited little ;
the domestic life, mingling with one another and with the
children, who were the delight of his eyes, satisfied them both
But the time of separation was at hand. Captain Browne was
ordered to Ireland for a short time, and then an appointment
m England was promised, and the brother and sister looked
forward to a more permanent residence together. It seemed
strange to the latter that this parting, which she hoped was
to be so brief, caused her such protracted agony. For three
weeks before, and as long after, her brother's departure she
had not a night's rest. Visions of drowning, especially the
event enacted in their childhood, were ever before her and she

told

wns

Nl 3S(lUlUdiJia±bda Lj

rew into a fine
ainated by evil
ich interest in
■ere beautifully
family and the
, and he often
He had sweet
len a baby was
and guided it,
ween its head

tage was most
of the college,
movement fur
er bonnet, and
enjoyed after
> rose till they
afternooa was
little farm, the
3n with great

1 Browne," as
;her and sister
ivrite till long
idy for several
visited little;
and with the
:d them both.

. Browne was

appointment

sister looked

. It seemed

2 hoped was
^ For three
leparture she
specially the

her and she

Chariotte Elizabeth Tonna. 109

u-ould start up in terror. This was the more remarkable as
I both were entirely fbarless on the water

I After Captain Browne's departure the reduced family went
I to hve m the village, ,n a smaller house. There he/ heir
J went out to the young cadets, with almost a mcXr's y i^^
'^^T!^};^^^^^^-^^o.. She realised the
^•ang.r of a Chnst.an boy being unable to withstand the
, scofls and jeers wh.ch met any indications of religious lifc in
; he new comers. She often invited some of the lads to her
I house, and took walks with them upon the '' breezy heath," and
. . eems probable that the intercourse with one sJ earnes , and
; at the same time so cultured and lively, was greatly anj pe^
: n>anently blessed to several of them. ^ y anu per

i ,/' i'.I'''fv Tr^'' ""^'"^"S in June, 1828, on waking late

' U ill r''^' T^ '^^ ''''''' '^^ "^y '-^ °" the pillow

\ itii eager pleasure she opened the one from the Horse Guards

It -snot from her brother's hand. She read tl^fir^t "a^^^^

inX r; tr"' "'^ ''tender preparation," uncomprehend:
n.M , and then came the fearful stunning blow. At Mullin^nr
- rother w- dst out on the lake fishing, had been drow el

]r w ','''' '?" '"^'""^ '" ''''>■'' ^- him, and now t e
r.r.t hought that took hold of her mind was the fact that he
was beyond the reach of prayer. When she came down Jack
ccu.tomed to read her face, met her with « a look of wild
lij>may, anxious to know what had occurred. A\hen she had
cl him and had conversed with him a while, hiTt tu ' ts
ou,h her some comfort. Speaking of Captain Browne? a k
•vud solemnly: ''Jack pray, pray morning pray night ack
my church. Yes, Jack many days very pray!"' lin, r alu '
I>c answer to his prayers and his friend's happiness «' with a
-St of delighted animation" he told her that'capt In I r wn
--a very tall angel, very beautiful." That ni^n Charlotte
1. ./abeth spent m her study, her head resting upon her hands
About two in the mornin<r Wj. o— c^' fu/^ ' ^''"^'-

1. ,, , •= J'^'-'^ v^'-.tjCu iHc door, his l:irp

-Idly pale. She saw him lift up his hands and eyes n nnt "
•1.™ softly go round the room taking down trom the waU cTrJ

-.0

■n

Consecrated Women.

picture containing "a ship, or boat, or water under any form."
Then he went out of the room " with a look of such desolate
sorrow as by its tender sympathy poured bairn into her heart."
Bitter regrets that she had never had intimate religious inter-
course with her brother now assailed her.

Before going to Portugal he had not known any earnest
Christian, and during the ten years spent in that country he
had been much shut out from Christian intluences. From all
he had heard he had imbibed a strong prejudice against
spiritual religion. It was a time of awakening, and the world
was opposed to the zeal manifested by many of the followers
of Christ. Hannah More was cruelly maligned, and when
Charlotte Elizabeth persuaded her brother to visit this vener-
able and accomplished lady at Clifton he was surprised and
charmed to find the *' Queen of the Methodists " so lively and
delightful. He remarked that if all her followers were like her
they must be a very agreeable set of people. He told his
sister laughingly that he expected to find them " going down
on their knees half a dozen times a day, singing psalms all
over the house, and setting themselves against everything merry
and cheerful." She was naturally anxious not to give hnn
any cause for disgust towards religion, and put off till their
future settlement together any intimate conversation on the
subject nearest her heart. Now she felt that perhaps he had
been longing to talk with her of his soul's interests, and she had
been silent ! Yet she recalled many indications that he was
a Christian. At Sandhurst Captain Browne had delighted in
the society of truly earnest men, and would never allow from
any one a word against the deeply spiritual teaching of the
ministry he attended. There were other proofs of his love for
Divine things ; yet in that terrible hour his sister could not
realize that her prayers had been answered, because she had
not heard from his own lips the confession of his faith. She
says she was trammelled, she could not see the blade of grass
because it was not already a full ear of corn, and her dumb boy
taught her a lesson of trust. Afterwards she had substantial

Nl dbl I Ui Udxjmxbda LJ

CJiarhtte Elizabeth Tonna.

Ill

dcr any form."

such desolate

nto her heart."

religious inter-

i'n any earnest
bat country he
:es. From all
sjudice against
and the world
f the followers
led, and when
isit this vener-
surprised and
" so lively and
s were like her
He told his
. " going down
ing psalms all
erything merry
: to give hun
It off till their
sation on the
crhaps he had
s, and she had
IS that he was
d delighted in
I'er allow from
caching of the
Df his love for
iter could not
cause she had
lis faith. She
blade of grass
her dumb boy
ad substantial

comfort brought to her by letters from Castlebar, from tlie
clergyman whose ministry her brother had attended during the
last months of his life. She at once adopted his elder "boy,
now five years old, and in training him found that there was
still something worth living for. Jack grieved so, at seeing her
gnef, that his health gave way, and he fell into a consumption

In 1S29 the proposed Catholic Emancipation Bill roused
her, and she strained every nerve to influence those in authority
to prevent what seemed to her an impending evil of vast
magnitude.

She found ever a solace, in the midst of her varied trials, in
work. Her Sabbath class was an immense interest to her. ' So
loiHilar was her teaching that her cottage parlour could not
contam all who came, and she was obliged to divide the com-
pany into two parts. She arranged for the thirty girls to come
at four o'clock for an hour and a half. A similar number
of lads came at six, and it was often difficult to break up
the party at eight o'clock, so interesting was the instruction
given. Jack sat by in his easy chair. He was getting weaker,
but his mind was brighter than ever. He kept watch over the
company, and if he saw, which seldom happened, the slightest
approach to levity, he looked distressed and, holding up his
hands as high as he could, spelled " God— see ! "

As time went on, Charlotte Elizabeth's love for Ireland
deepened if that were possible.

In 1830, while staying in London with a little nephew who
required medical care, she attended the annual meeting of the
Irish Society. During the earlier speeches she was revolving
in her mind what she could do to promote the interests of
Ireland, when Mr. Seymour, the venerable clergyman from
Castlebar, rose. He put in a strong plea for the poor Irish living
m spiritual destitution on English ground, and he fervently
entreated that English Christians would open a " Bread shop
for the starving souls in St. Giles' ! " This appeal touched c^p.q
heart present, and Charlotte Elizabeth's whole soul was fired
with the desire to provide a church for that awfully destitute

! Ml

112

Consecrated Women.

district. She wrote an appeal which she distributed among a
large circle of friends ; few sympathised. One day at the
table of Dr. Pidduck many were bantering her for being san-
guine enough to hope to succeed in her design. The doctor
said : "You remind mc of Columbus, going to the Cathedral of
Seville to ask a blessing on his romantic project of discovering
a new world. Everybody laughed at him. Nevertheless he
succeeded, and so will you:' At that moment a genUeman
sittuig next to her laid a sovereign on her piece of bread.
" The coincidence between the gold and the bread " so cheered
her that she exclaimed, " I will succeed." With seven pounds
in hand she wrote to the Bishop of Lichfield to ask him to
appeal to the Bishop of London to license a church for the
Irish. She received in reply the message : '' The Bishop wi'l
license your church. Lichfield sends nis love, and desires
you to summon the gentlemen who are associated with you,
half a dozen or so, to meet him in Sackville St., on Saturday
next, and be there yourself. He will see what can be done
to forward it." Her only helpers were Dr. Pidduck, Lord
Mountsandford, and the Hon. Somerset Maxwell; and she
exclaims, "Half a dozen gentlemen! where was I to find them?"
She worked desperately, and on Saturday went with trembling
hope and fear to Sackville St., accompanied by two warm-
hearted young Irish barristers. On entering the room what
was her joy and surprise to see Bishop Ryder in the chair,
supported by the Bishop of Bath and Wells, several lords, and
about forty other clergymen and gentlemen. When the chair-
man knelt down and asked a blessing on the work, she thought
she ''might as well die then as not, she could never die
happier." A committee was formed for receiving subscriptions,
but the work was not taken out of her hands. At the end of
her two months' stay in London thirteen hundred pounds had
been collected, and she returned to Sandhurst with a heart
full of praise. She wrote on a card the words which had been
running in her mind ali the time, and placed it over her study
mantelpiece :

Nl dbl I U.L UHixuiaxj>3ia lj

uted among a
le day at the
for being san-
. The doctor
le Cathedral of
of discoverinc;
;vcrthcless he
t a gentleman
ece of bread,
d " so cheered
seven pounds
o ask him to
:hurch for the
le Bishop wi'l
, and desires
ted with you,
., on Saturday
: can be done
idduck, Lord
^ell; and she
:o find them?"
nth trembling
y two warm-
e room what
in the chair,
ral lords, and
ben the chair-
:, she thought
lid never die
subscriptions,
At the end of
pounds had
with a heart
ich had been
ver her study

Charlotte Elizabeth Tonna. 113

" Victorious faith tlie promise sees,
And looks to God alone,
Laughs at impossihilities,
Aud says, It shall be done ! "

III the following November the Irish Episcopal Church was
opened ni St. Giles. It became the centre of a blessed work,
and from time to time new helpers were raised up to carry it
on. Mr. Donald, a young barrister, had lo .g before gathered the
lutle ragged children into a sabbath school in the district, and
his heart yearned over these little ones and their parents'with
intense longings for their salvation. In the midst of a busy
professional life his labours among this people were untiring,
and, durmg an epedemic in the district, his life was eventually
sacrificed to his devotion to them.

Of course Jiere was opposition, and one poor fellow sealed
Ins faith by a martyr's death.

We must not enter into all that Charlotte Elizabeth went
through, from the earnest desire of her acquaintance to lead
Ikt into their own peculiar paths of religious profession.
Triyer and her Bible were her unfailing weapons in the
discussions which went on, and she remained a member of
the Church of England, satisfied that unless that Church
should herself (and not merely her individual members) accept
and promulgate ritualistic teaching and practices, it was her
ai'iding place.

A\'c have not noticed her love for the Jews ; it was only
second to her love for Ireland, and, as she was enabled, she
laboured earnestly to promote their enlightenment. This'lovc
(■-'r tlie Jews grew out of those early readings in the Bible
when the bright stream of gospel light first illumined her heart
and she received its teaching with new interest. Jack also
showed a deep interest about the Jews, and it was a singular
fact that in his simple way he connected the return of the
Jews to their own country, and the overthrow of popery, with
the i)crsonal reign of Christ upon the earth, and this at a tune
when his teacher did not hold this view but expected the

'>«

TrtHI

-.0

: ^

ri4

Consecrated Women.

regeneration of the world to take place gradually through the
preaching of the gospel. " Poor Jew very soon see Jesus
Christ," he would often exclaim.

Dunng the winter of 1830 Jack was failing fast; he was
now nineteen, a fine tall young man. The visits of Mr. Donald
were amongst his greatest pleasures. Charlotte Elizabeth tells
how she loved to watch her noble-minded friend, as with all
Immility and tenderness he waited upon the sick youth. Jack
received his attentions with humble gratitude and with that
rcfmcd courtesy of manner which was habitual to him. On
the last morning of his life he seemed stronger and was able
to converse a great deal. He prayed for his family, commended
his brother and sister to his adopted mother for counsel and
teaching, begged her to bring up her brother's boys to love
Jesus Christ, and repeated over and over again the fervent
mj unction "to love poor Ireland, to pray for Ireland, 10 write
books for Jack's poor Ireland, and in every way to oppose
Roman." Very sweetly he had thanked her for all her care.
Once more he spelled upon his fingers the name so dear to
him, "One Jesus Christ {one meaning He was the only
Saviour), Jack's one Jesus Christ ! " In the evening his sight
failed, an indication of the approaching end which he received
with a smile of pleasure. At last he asked to lie down on the
sofa, and saying very calmly, "A sleep," he placed his hand
in hers, closed his eyes, and passed into His presence " who
unstops the ears of the deaf, and causes the tongue of the
dumb to make melody."

While she gave up her trust with " a glow of adoring thank-
fulness " that she had been permitted to train a soul for
heaven, Charlotte EHzabeth writes: "I sorely missed the
sweet companionship of one who for some years had taught
me n- ^re than I could teach him."

Now her lot was to be cast among strangers. It was a great
trial to break up the home and leave the interests of Sandhurst,
but she thought it desirable to reside nearer London. She
entered upon her new home with some fears lest no sphere of

Nl dbl I UJ. UdiUiax^iua

Charlotte Elizabeth Tonm.

1 1

' througli the
Dn sec Jesus

fast; iic was
fMr. Donald
Elizabeth tells
I, as with all
youth. Jack
nd with that
to him. On
ind was able

commended

counsel and
boys to love

the fervent
and, to write
ly to oppose

all her care,
e so dear to
as the only
ing his sight

he received
down on the
2d his hand
sence " who
ngue of the

3ring thank-

a soul for

missed the

had taught

was a great
r Sandhurst,
ndon. She
10 sphere of

active usefulness should open for her, but almost immediately
she found herself in full work. A dreadful famine was ^^oing
on m the west of Ireland, and when ample fund, liad "been
sul)scribed for the starving people there she sought help for
her suffenng poor in St. Giles'. Money was entrusted to her
by mterested friends and during four months she spent from
our to SIX hours daily in visiting the people in their wretched
homes, carefully administering to their needs, but never giving
the relief m money, seeking also by every means in her power
to wm souls. She was assisted by her dear friend. Dr.
1 idduck, who for years laboured among these poor people,
carrymg to them healing for their bodies and their souls

Another work into which she entered was the antislavery
cause, and none of the large band of workers rejoiced more
than she did over the success of their labours when the slaves
in the West Indies were liberated.

In 1834 she undertook the editorship of a periodical, and
it must have been about this time that she abridged Foxe's
• Look of Martyrs " into two moderate volumes, an occupation
most congenial to her.

In 1837 Captain Fhelan died, and she became a widow
n that year she revisited Ireland, the place of her spiritual
birth, the country which contained her brother's grave

In 1840 the autobiography ends. She had planne'd to en-
large and coutinue it further, should her life be spared a ic^w
years ; but her time became more and more fully occupied with
literary and active labours for the good of others, and the
opportunity never arrived. She thus closes the - Personal
Recollections." - By the help of my God I continue to this
day, anxiously desirous to devote my little talent to His ser-
vice, as He may graciously permit. I have coveted no man's
silver and gold, or apparel, but counted it a privilege to labour
with my hands and head, for myself and for those most dear
to me. Many trials, various and sharp, have been my portion :
but they are passed away. . . The Lord has nrr^nf.H nj
my hand one ottering in the case of the precious dumlj boy.

•ivnMi

,■#

". ;«

133

Ii6

Consecrated IVovicn.

received into glory through His rich blessing on my efforts;
and He mercifully gives me to see the welfare of two others
l.Iier nephews] committed to me. . . He luis been a very
gracious Master to me; He has dealt very bountifully, and
given me now the abundance of domestic peace, with the light
of ilis countenance to gladden my happy liome. Yet the
brightest beam tliat falls upon it is the anticipation of that
burst of glory, when the Lord Jesus shall be revealed from
heaven, to reign in righteousness over tiie world that shall
soon, very soon, acknowledge Him the universal, eternal King;
and the most fervent aspiration my heart desires to utter is
the response to His promise of a speedv advent. * Even so,
Lord Jesus ; come quickly ! Amen ! '"

It was a surprise to her friends when, '-i 1841, she consented
to become the wife of Mr. Tonna. Others, oi.e a nobleman,
had sought her hand. She did not ask counsel of her friends
in these matters, but she earnestly asked to know the will of
God, and her husband says " He did not refuse His guidance
nor His blessing." Her sister-cousin, lately deceasf^d, testified
to the great happiness of this union, and all the love, and ten-
derness needed by her filled up the remainder of her days.
The years that followed were very bright and very full of
occupation. She took much interest in The Christian Zadfs
Magazine, of which she was editor. In this peri^ ^•- d she
wrote, from time to time, series of papers for or u. the
Jews, which were largely read by them. She was especially
anxious to interest English Christians about the Jews. She
regretted that they were so litUe understood, and she felt the
importance of inculcating the greatest forbearance towards
them. It was her desire that they should hear the message,
" Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved,"
unencumbered by conditions such as she believed were often
imposed on them, and which were very hard for an Israelite
to accept.

About this time she wrote "Judah's Lion," which was pub-
lished month by month in her own magazine. This was her

Ml dbl I VJX Urnxuiaxoaa

I my efforts ;
f two others
been a very
intifully, ami
nth the light
le. Yet the
ition of that
ivealed from
J that shall
tcrnal King;
?s to utter is
' Even so,

le consented
a nobleman,

her friends
,v the will of
is guidance
sf'd, testified
•ve, and ten-
f her days.
very full of
'stian Lady's
XV '^''- \\ she
r u, the

s especially
Jews. She
she felt the
ice towards
he message,
; be saved,"

were often
an Israelite

h was pub-
(lis was her

Charlotte Elizabeth Tonna.

1^7

last work of fiction. Althougli she knew that her previous
works in the direction of stories of a religious character had
been blessed, the conviction became rooted in her mind that
these stones were not quite compatible with Ciiristian truthful-
ness. " To describe the operations of God the Holy Spirit, and
the mighty work of regeneration, as taking place in beings who
existed only in her own imagination,— to delineate stru-glcs of
conscience which had never taken place,— and above," all, to
indite prayers which had never been uttered, and reveal their
answers-seemed to her now something like profanation."

Naturally it could not be a light thing to give up an occu-
pation^ which was to her such a pleasant recreation, but her
Father's will was dearer to her than anything beside. Mr.
Tonna describes her interest in the characters of her stories"
being shut out from all sound, her capacity for withdrawing
into a world of her own was great, and this intensified her
glowing powers of imagination. While writing this her 1 ist
tale, on a certain day in the month she would remind her
husband that it was the day for " Judah's Lion," and when he
returned from town in the evening " she recounted to him the
events that had happened to Da Costa, and Aleck Cohen,
and others with as much eagerness and vivacity as though they
had been actual occurrences of the day." Her characters were
of course all delineated to teach some lesson worthy to be
studied.

So clear were her thoughts, and so great was her facility in
writing, that she was not accustomed to read over her manu-
scripts before sending them to the press. On this account
when reading the proofs of a story (she genei...y wrote £
story without any previous plan) its incidents seemed so new
that she has been known to shed tears when readin-^ it She
generally spent the greater part of the day in writhi- Im-
mediately after breakfast she went to her studv. locking? tlir^
eluor to prevent interruption ; her two dogs and a sple'^ndid
cockatoo rather helping her by their presence. She loved
animals, looking upon them in the spirit of the poet, *' My

■ V*

.41

fji

ii3

Consecrated Woincn.

Father marie them all." It piined her acutely t»> sec them
suffer in any way, and all her numerous pets led lives of much
enjoyment under her care. When she was tired of writing, or
was seeking an idea, she would work hard in her garden for
half an hour and then return to her desk with new thoughts
welling up in her mind. The brilliant tints of flowers and
gems had upon her the same effect as music upon some
minds. She kept in her desk a diamond ring which she wore
when writing, " the flashing of the brilliants, as the light fell
upon them, greatly helping the flow of thought and imagi-
naii<jn." At such times her face would suddenly light up, and
when her husband turned an in(iuiring glance towards her,
she would smile and say, " Oh it is only the diamonds ! ''
Her quickness of apprehending signs enabled him to converse
with her very rapidly; and upon his finger, he could com-
municate to her sermons, and speeches, and conversations
almost without the omission of a word.

After a day of close occupation it was her custom in die
summer time to take a walk of ten or twelve miles in the
evening. Thus pleasantly passed the life at Illackheath, then
so far from the smoke of the city ; but in this peaceful home
she was not unmindful of the interests of the great world out-
side. During 1842 and 1843, among other pr>i"-rs and works,
she wrote "The Wrongs of Women," and a plea for the
labouring classes, whom she considered to be at that time
under grinding oppression. For the latter work she was largely
supplied with information from parliamentary documems and
private correspondence of many who were devoting themselves
to this inquiry. For two months she digested the facts, and
then wrote the volume with her usual ease. The work quickly
reached the third edition, and from the highest places in the
land inquiries arose as to its authorship ; but so well was the
secret kept that no one dreamed that it was from the pen of a
woman. This book, " The Perils of the Nation/' had large
influence.

In 1842 an event occurred which filled her with great joy

Nl dbl I U± Ud±uiaxs»=ia

Charlotte Elizabeth Tonna,

119

> SCO tlicm
^es of nuicli

" wrilinj,', or
■ garden for
w thoughts
lowers and
ipon some
h she wore
e light fell
and iniagi-
,'ht lip, and
I wards her,
iamonds ! "
o converse
ould com-
nvcrsatioiis

om in die
les in the
leath, then
:eful Iiorne
world out-
md works,
:a for the
that time
ivas largely
men IS and
Jiemselves
facts, and
rk quickly
ices in the
-■11 was the
c pen of a
had large

great joy

and astonishment. This was the occupation of the new bishopric
at Jerusalem by a Jew. Mr. Alexander, the first Bishop of
Jerusalem, became a Christian at Norwich ; !ie had been her
iiuiaiate friend during sixteen years. At the time she looked
upon this event as the prelude to the return of the Jews to
r.ilostinc, but her views on this subject became afterwards
modified.

In 1844 the Emperor Nicholas visited England, and she
was anxious to lay before him the needs of his oppressed
Jewish subjects. She was told that his visit was strictly private
iiid that nothing could be done. She was not to be so easily
daunted. Two days of the Emperor's visit remained. She
wrote an appeal, which was carefully copied on vellum during
the night. Then she hired a carriage and took round the
memorial, and obtained the signatures of bishops, peers, privy
councillors, etc., all being the names of Christian men. The
memorial was presented, and on the Emperor's return to
Russia a kind and courteous reply was sent through the am-
bassador. This was her last public act of kindness requiring
active exertion, for disease had insidiously laid hold upon her.
It had given indications of its character, but it was not until the
end of 1844 that its mortal nature was definitely ascertained.
\\\ The Christian Lady's Magazine she mentions that for twelve
months cancer had been eating away her strength, "rendering
that a most laborious toil which before was a delightful re--
creation." Then, turning to her numerous Jewish readers, she
adds : " The Lord (blessed for ever be the name of the Lord !)
has most mercifully planted thii.- silver arrow in the left side ;
the right is free ; the right hand forgets not her cunning ;
Jerusalem is not forgotten."

It was indeed a great alleviation of the trial that, except
during the last two months of her life, she was able to use the
pen, for her thoughts continued to flew with such rapidity
Jliat dictation was almost impraelicable. When her left baud
became useless she invented a machine during one or hci
sleepless nights to facilitate writing. It consisted of two rollers

am
m

120

Cousccrated Women.

on a frame. On tlic lower one were innny yards of paper, rolled,
and as fast as she filled a page, by turning a small winch it was
wound on to the ui)pcr roller and a clean surfiice displayed.
In this way she wrote papers for the pres.^, and letters, measuring
several yards in length. About this time "JucKxa Capta" was
written.

In the summer of 1845 Mrs. Tor la moved to the oHkial
resMence of her husband, that she might have him constantly
near to her. In this mo'-c central home she had larger inter-
course with intimate friends, and the Christian communion
with some beloved fellow-workers of other days was very re-
freshing to her. Visiting Ramsgate for the benefit of sea air,
she had the great pleasure of becoming ac(iuainted with Sir
Moses and Lady Mon^ ^lore. .She visited them at their noble
residence on the East J, and as Sir Moses pointed his hand
over the sea and said, ' 'J'herc is Jerusalem," she and her host
"vied with each other in repeating from the i-rophel Isaiah
the glorious promises of Israel's future."

During her illness it was enough to speak to her of "the
Lord's speedy coining, of the future glory of Zion, or any
kindred theme," and her sufferings were forgotten, and "with
a glow of delight upon her face .she would express the stirrini,'
thoughts whi. h filled her,"' few imagining fhil each moveineiu
cost her severe pain. With her accustomed faith in God she
accepted her illness as exactly the discipline she needed, and
praised Him for Mis love in selecting for her a dispensation of
bodily pain to which she had been unaccustomed. Her hus
band says that "kindness, and love, and sympathy flowed in
on every side." Her unknown as well as her long-loved
friends, who sent her words of cheer or refreshing gifts of fruit
and other things, were all remembered by her in prayer that
spiritual blessings might be poured out upon them by Him
to whom they had ministered "in the person of His unworthy
servant."

For her Jewish sisters, who loved her " because she loved
their nation," she prayed that they might "find, and know,

Nl dbl I UX U:dXw»iaxo3a

C harlot ie Elizabeth To una.

121

p.ipcr, rolled,
uinch it was
e displayed.
rs, measuring
Capta " was

the ofiicial
n constantly
larger inter-
communion
vas very re-
f of sea air,
ted willi Sir
: tlieir noble
ted his liand
,nd her host
oi)hct Isaiah

her of "(ho

lion, or any

and "with

the stirring

1 movement

in God she

needed, and

)ensation of

Her hus

ly flowed in

long-loved

gifts of fruit

prayer that

nil by Him

s unworthy

I she loved
and know,

:i:<l luve that Redeemer whuia they weie unconsciously visit-
;:i.; in His poor amided disciple.' One passage in her life
at this time wc cannot pass by; it si so unmistakably l!.o
'!.!)!h and reality of a religion which enabled her to hu'mblc
licrself to make public confession of error.

The prospect of the first public meeting in connection with
the Kvangelical .Mlianr,- stirred her heart, and believing that
where a number of Christians of various denominations'* were
.aihered together in harmony, with one high and holy aim, i/t.rc
must descend a special blessing, she asked for strength to bo
present. The strength was given, and she sat through a meet-
ing of five hours' duration, entering into the speeches with h r
uuiUed viviil interest. S!ie wrote an account of the iiroceod-
iims m 77u- CIu stian Ladfs Ma^^azinc. " Many reasons coni-
I'lncd to make the speech of the Hon. an<l Rev. iJaptist Noel
particularly touching to her." .She thus refers to his address :
"Mr. Xoelwas i)cculiarly energetic ; he graj.pled with hostiL-
arguments, and i)repared his brethren fur the extreme of oj.p.,-
Htiun that Satan could rouse against a work so eminently
acYnnlant with the very life and soul of the gospel. I le alluded
to (he resistance that he personally had encountered, and was
'iaily encountering, in the active prosecution of the work ; and
he spoke as one ready to bear and do all things through the
strengthening power of Christ." S!ie continues : '* the readers
of the magazine may easily comprehend how, in that hour (jf
sacred fellowship, its Editor's heart smote her, not for having,
on various points connected with Ireland and political matters'
'littered from Mr. Noel ; not for having openly i)rotested against
opinions in which she did not and does not now concur^ but
for having expressed that dissent in language of petulance,
asperity, and uncharitableness, for which the only excuse to
be ma.le is an unconditional acknowledgment of error, an
unreserved request for pardon at our brother's hand.

'•We have since that blessed meetinrr said this md more
''}■ letter to himself, and received a most ready Christian re-
sponse. We now publicly repeat the retractation of every harsh.

122

Consecrated Women,

every unsisterly word ; and we pray that all may be obliterated
from the minds of those who still remember it."

To those who visited her it was evident that her time on
earth was growing short, though she herself believed that the
disease had run its course, and that she might yet live on and
labour for some years ; and in this view her husband concurred.

She had a very humble estimate of herself, and when any
friends alluded to the result of her labours as a proof of her
acceptance with God, she was much distressed, saying, "I
might be but the finger-post that points the road, but moves
not on."

One season of conflict was permitted her ; the comfort which
had so largely upheld her was no longer realized. The sin of
irritability, no doubt induced by the worn out state of the
nerves, "was mourned over with tears and anguish, but it
seemed to her so utterly incompatible with her being a child
of God that she began to doubt whether it were possible that
she belonged to Him. She did not doubt the sufficiency of
the Saviour, but simply whether, if He had indeed called her,
it were possible she should show so little conformity to His
will." Nothing brought her comfort till one day her husband
said to her, " Without attempting to contradict what you say,
if you have not come to Jesus, come to Him no'v !'' He then
read to her from the Lible the simplest promises and invita-
tions. She remained silent for some time, and then prayed,
as she expressed it, her favourite hymn,

"Rock of ages, cleft for me,"
especially dwelling on the line,

" Cleanse me from its guilt and power."

" From that time, with little interruption, her heart and lips
were full of praise to God for His goodness to her."

She was longing for sea air, and on the loth of July was
removed to Ramsgate. She had desired that the six sergeants
attached to the United Service Institution should carry hei

INI =I5>I I Kji. u3Xv>»iaxo3a

Charlotte Elizabeth Tonna.

123

be obliterated

; her time on
eved that the
\ live on and
nd concurred,
.nd when any
proof of her
d, saying, "I
d, but moves

comfort which

The sin of

t state of the

iguish, but it

being a child

possible that

sufficiency of

d called her,

irmity to His

her husband

k'hat you say,

/" He then

s and invita-

then prayed,

eart and lips
r."

vi J Lily ITU^

six sergeants
iild carry hei

pall in case she died in London. Now they bore her, in a
very prostrate condition, to the carriage. On parting she
thanked them for all their kindness and attentions during her
Khicss, and, shaking hands with each, asked the Lord to bless
liicni.

Sir ^^oses Montefiore came to the terminus to take leave of
her, bringing a basket of choice grapes for the journey. When
the carriage door was closed she desired her husband and her
faithful servant, Mary Nclms, to kneel down and ask the Lord
to uphold her during the journey. This prayer was mercifully
answered. Passing through Canterbury, her attention was
directed to the splendid cathedral. She said, " Yes, it is very
grand ; but there is where the martyrs were starved to death ! "
jHiinting to the towers of an ancient gateway. On the next day
slie was much worse, but during the night she was "cheerful,

ven to playfulness." On the morning of the 12th there was a
great change, and life seemed ebbing fast, while her face retained
its calm and happy expression. Once her eyes brightened, and
throwing her arm round her husband, who was leaning over her,
she exclaimed, with emphasis," " I love you ! " Those present
thou-ht that these were her last words, but she had still a
message for some dear Jewish friends. Raising herself with
tremendous effort, and panting for breath between each word,
she said with loud, clear voice, "Tell them that Jesus is the
Messiah ; and tell "

Mr. Tonna writes: "her hand had forgotten its cunning,
her tongue was cleaving to the roof of her mouth, but Charlotte
Elizabeth had not forgotten Jerusalem."

'i'he breathings grew fainter, and at twenty minutes past two
she entered into her eternal rest.

She was buried in Ramsgate Churchyard in presence of a
very large concourse of people, her beloved friend, Mr. Dibden,
the pastor of her Irish church, officiating on the solemn
uccasion.

At her request her husband planted on her grave some
shamrocks which she had brought from the banks of the Lake

litaM

It mm

124

Consecrated Women,

of Mullii\qar; and upon the simple headstone wliich marks
her resting i)]ace he inscribed the epitaph she had herself
written, the date only being added :

Here lie the mortal remains of

Cfjarlotlc lih'jabctlj.

y\\v. heloved wife of L. H. J. Toxxa,

WHO DEPARTED THIS LIFE
ON THE I2TH JULY, 1S46.

*' Lool-i'nj:; iinio JcsusP

«. 7///.'

lURL

Nl dibi I VJJ. U3J.w»iaxorja

L»)

wliich marks
c had herself

s'A.

'•'IIIROUGIILY FURNISHED UNTO ALL GOOD

works:*

MARGARET WILSON.

, . And, more endearing still tJmn aii,
Thy constant floiv of love that J^nciv no fall.
Ne'er roughened by t/iose cataracts and i>reah
That humour interposed too often makes.

COWPER.

««

"Our supply of daily bread is not cut cfT on 'the day of rest'
like the Israelites' manna. We do not receive a double supply on
the previous day, to carry us over, but rather, I often think, we
receive on the Sabbath day if not a greater supply, yet at any rate
something that tastes sweeter and that fills our souls rather more
With thanksgiving and praise than on those days when we have the
battle with the world to keep up. To be sure, wc have all we need
every day, but the day of rest itself is another boon for which we
may well feel thankful."

INI 331 1 \JA. unxv-'iaxozicj

MARGARET WILSON.^
Born 1795. Died 1835.

lyrARGARET BAYNE was the daughter of parents rc-
IVl markable for deep spirituality and high intellectual
culture. Her father, Kenneth Bayne, minister of the south
parish church, Greenock, was a devoted pastor. His wife
Margaret Hay, was " distinguished by great sweetness of temper
and remarkable prudence."

Margaret, their second child, was born on the sth of Novem-
l)cr, 1795 ; like all her brothers and sisters she was a child of
"Kuiy prayers. She was lovely and engaging, and even when
very young entirely unselfish, a characteristic which remained
liers through life. Her father took great pains in the training
of his children, and he deemed it best to allow them few
associates out of their interesting family circle. One of these
who was permitted the intercourse of a sister aP:ong them thus
writes of those early days : " I can never forget the seasons of
spiritual improvement then enjoyed : how on the Sabbath
when the labours of the day were ended, in the retirement of
the domestic circle, Mr. Bayne's whole soul seemed to expand
and his conversation breathed forth those heavenly feelings
which overflowed his heart."

The lessons of wisdom which were continually falling from
his aps made a deep impression upon Margaret. He loved to
direct his children to admire the beauties of nature, and to look
through them up to nature's God; and Margaret's intense

» Taken chiefly from the "Memoir of Mrs. Mnr.mr^f vvjicon •» Pv Dr
Wuson. Published 1838. ' * ^ ^''*

MMMI
ru0l0

128

Con sec rated IVonicn.

*^'-i

adiiiiratioii for beautiful scenery no doubt began to develop
under these teachings. Her descriptions of the grand and
beautiful in nature are ever apitreciative and truly elocpient.

Very early in life Margaret had religious impressions which
were intluential in leading her as a child to do what she knew
10 be right. As her mind opened she had a deep sense of her
weakness and sinfulness, leading to the cry " What shall I do
to be saved?" In the Lord's time the answer came, and
peace and joy, followed by the active obedience of her life,
testified that she had become united to Christ. At thirteen
she went for a short time to a school at a distance from home.
Her teacher soon discerned diat her powers were of no ordi-
nary capacity, and charged her to make full use of them as
talents to be put out to usury.

Great intellectual advantages were enjoyed on Margaret's
return home, but soon a heavy sorrow absorbed every thought.
The devoted motlier was removed by death early in iSii, after
a short illness. Margaret felt deeply the responsibilities towards
the younger children which this event imposed upon her.

At this time she had a conscience so tender that she feared
to hold intercourse with those who lived in the spirit of the
world, and when possible she refused invitations to parties
among her young friends ; but if there was a religious meeting
she eagerly sought the opportunity to be present.

She was panting after nearness to her Saviour. " Be not
conformed to this world " seemed to be her maxim, and she
sought to carry it out in all things ; in procuring a new article
of dress she was careful to have it made without ornament.
Some may think she was verging towards asceticism, in keeping
so much aloof from others. If we look back over the history
of the church, we shall see that when the Lord has been
preparing Llis servants for special service He has often provided
for them a period of comparative seclusion in which He has
taught them some of His deeper lessons and then brought
them forth to enter again upon the battle field of life. Some-
times this opportunity has been the result of circumstances,

INI noi I Kjx. VJ3J.K./ 1 00.0:3 CI ^ I

Mar caret Wilson,

129

to develop

grand and

lofiucnt.

iions which

t she knew

jcnse of her

t shall I do

came, and

of her life,

At thirteen

from home.

of no ordi-

of them as

I Margaret's
cry thought.
I iSii, after
ities towards
in her.
t she feared
pirit of the
s to parties
ous meeting

•. "Be not
,im, and she
I new article
It ornament.
1, in keeping
r the history
•d has been
"ten provided
lich He has
hen brought
life. Some-
rcumstanccs,

such as a period of feeble health ; but in otiicrs, as in the case
o Margaret Baync, it has been sought under a deei) impression
"f Its bemg at the time the necessary condition of spiritual
l-rugress. She joyfully gave herself up to be thus taught of the
Lord, and her growth in grace was very marked. Among those
uim delighted m her society were many aged Christians; and
many prayers were offered by her father's friends on her behalf
A remarkable revival had taken place in the Isle of Arran, and
some who had been aroused were seeking all the spiritual help
tncy could obtain. These crme out of their quiet country hfe,
at great effort to themselves, in order to attend religious services
at Greenock. In the midst even of the Cliristians there they
were reserved, and sought to stand aside, wishing to be un-
noticed ; but when Margaret appeared, their bright smiles and
words of recognition showed how easily hearts opened to her
lovmg sympathy. To her father she was a great comfort, and
a delightful companion to her sisters. One of them thus writes
ofiicr : <'I well remember how every day only increased my
love and admiration of her, and how there were blended with
somethmg like the veneration due to a parent, feelings at once
joyous, happy and unrestrained."

.Margaret's feelings of anxiety in regard to the youno-er
members of the family were intense. She so feared lest they
should suffer through any neglect of hers. It was her custom
irom tmic to time to retire with one after another of her sisters
t .at she might pray with them and speak with them of spiritual
tl"ngs. One little boy was taken from his sister's loving care
to the home above, having shown unmistakably that her
prayers and words had been greatly blessed to him. One
'•abbath, while l)ing on her knee, he was observed to be shed-
dmg tears. Margaret clasped him to her breast, exclaiming " I
'ear you are suffering much, my darling child ? " With a " look
and tone altogether indescribable " he replied, " It is not my
sufienngs that cause my tears to flow, but the love of the
Wesscd Jesus, in taking up little children in His arms' and
oicssing them."

I ;o

Consecrated IVouicn.

Some time after this Margaret went to Aberdeen for further
advantages in her education. During her stay there she passed
tlu-ough a severe ordeal Slie Iiad led a hfe of comparative
retirement, in wliich her studies had been subservient to prayer
and communion and to th(jse duties in the family wliich
preserve the tender affections and sympathies in their freshness.
Now she was in the enjoyment of unusual facilities for' the
l^ursuit of study, and she gave herself up to it with passion-
ate and all-absorbing ardour. She became fascinated by the
r.harms of science and literature. And not only so, but she
learned that she was talented and accomplished. She read
much and deeply on almost every subject ; and her conversa-
tion was at once '' brilliant and attractive." Margaret's studies
took a wide range, and besides general literature and several
languages she studied ecclesiastical and civil history, natural
l»hil(j.soi)hy, and mathematics. She entered into the " writings
of the most distinguished ethical and metaphysical writers both
ancient and modern"; and read with avidity profound theo-
logical works, though, as she " afterwards regretted, she gave
for some time the preference to thos* which are distinguished
by the independence of their speculations, and the subtleties
and intricacies of their metaphysics." Poetry, particularly
religious i)octry, she delighted in passionately, and her mind
became richly stored with its treasures. She also gave her
attention to the "romance of Indian mythology and philosophy;
and this study, on being corrected by her personal observa-
tion and research in Hindustan, ultimately proved of much
good."

Margaret Bayne loved study, and her acquirements became
associated with every thought and feeling. Her imagination
was vivid, and clothed the ideas which had been received
into her mind with new life and beauty. At the same time
her judgment was estimated by her friends as remarkably wise
and her memory was very exact.

It seems that " other circumstances," besides the into.xication
of study, drew her aside, for a season, from that enjoyment in

Nl dbirUXUraJ-v^TaJLoaa ^j

Margaret Wilson,

iji

prayer and communion wliich she liad previously held to be
her hi-hest privilege. Uut the Lord brought her back to llim-
sclt. She realized that she had strayed from the Shei)herd'.s
iM, and she ret rncd, with renewed consecration, to follow
1 1. Ml whuhersocver He should lead her. Henceforth her
a^ quu-ements and talents were, to a lav ^ extent, sanctified to
(-•.Is service, and He enabled her to use them to His glory.
' ':i her return frcm Aberdeen Margaret desired to superintend
l;ic education of her younger sisters. They were accordingly
v.. indrawn from the public classes, and placed under her care.
Her inlluence must have been very stimulating, for she made
their studies exceedingly interesting by the erUhusiasm which
• .c threw into them, as well as by her power of communicatin-
V. ;-,at she liad herself a- juired. Margaret found these occu^-
P iiions extremely helpful and strengthening to her own mind
and the constant demand on her intellectual resources stiinu-
l.ited her to increased diligence in adding to her stores of
knowle.lge. The seven sisters formed an interesting band, and
during the next few years the current of the daily life flowed
on peacefully and brightly.

IJat there came an hour when the brightness, which had
hcen m large measure restored to the home was a-ain par-
tially eclipsed by sorrow. After two days' illness," on the
■i^ornmg of Friday the 13th of April, 1S21, the beloved and
honoured father was called home. On the previous Sabbath
accompanied by his daughter xMargaret, he had assisted at
tlie administration of the Lord's sui^per at Glasgow. Early
on Miat morning he came to her room and coaversed, with
.a-t It sweetness and tenderness, "on the subject of that days
apijroaclung solemnity." I'hcn he knelt down and prayed
witli such fervour that, when he rose to depart, she felt such
a tumult of overpowering emotions that she could only say
v.'ih a burst of tears, " Dear papa, pray for me."

Arargaret's warm heart was torn by this sorrow, and her
•jense^ot desolation and distress w^as at times ovcru helming.
Mat time of anguish she perceived her heart's deep

132

Consecrated Women.

spiritual needs, and sceini,' herself as in the light of eternity
she was hiinihlcd in the dust. Prayer was her solace, she
would go over the jK-nitfniia! psalms with look and tone
which showed an intense ai>propriation of their mean-
\v'^. Oltcn in ilie silence of the night her weeping accents
fell upc^n her sister's cars as she pleaded with her Father in
heaven that He would "receive her graciously, love her freely,
and dwell, /liIc and reign supreme in her heart and affections."
Margarets conflict lasted long, but the lessons learned were
deei)ly imprinted on her soul, and she always lookec' back to
this tune as a season of extraordinary and i)ermanent blessing.
Henceforth she .seemed to advance "in wisdom and in grace."

Margaret liad very strong affections ; and sorrow, instead of
dulling these natural feelings, quickened her sympathies towards
those in afnicli(jn. She now comforted otiiers "with the
comfort wherewith she herself had been comforted of God."
Iler words and exami)lc were greatly blessed to her sisters.
Tiiey all worked together among tlic poor, taking great interest
in the Sabbath school and the visitation of the sick. Margaret
never spared herself when she could minister to the necessities
of others, whether by instructing the ignorant, or supplying
the temporal wants of the poor and afflicted. She was warmly
interested in the cause of missions to the heathen and to the
Jews.

For five years after the death of Mieir father the sisters
remained in Greenock. Their next nome was in Inverness-
shire. Dares Cottiigc was situated in an out-of-the-world
district, where they found little scope for their energies and
sympathies. Sometimes they were blocked up by snow, and
even in less wintry weather it was often impossible to get to a
place of worship for weeks together. Margaret speaks of two
sacramental services at long intervals, and that they were " like
green spots amid the desert." After a life of much seclusion
in this Highland home the sisters decided on removin^^ to

^ifv

:y ca

11. ..1

Edinburgh, and took a house in a nnrt of th

Comely Uank. It was early in the year 1S28, and' shortly

Nl rJbl 1 U± unXxJiaxaaa

lit of eternity
T solace, she
:jk and tone
their mean-
-pin-f accents
icr Father in
ive her freely,
id aftertions."
learned were
okec' back to
lent blessing,
id in grace."
>\v, instead of
thies towards
s "with the
ted of God."
D her sisters,
great interest
:k. Margaret
:ie necessities
or supplying
: was warmly
:n and to the

r the sisters
n Inverness-
t-of-the-world
energies and
)y snow, and
s to get to a
ieaks of two
y were " like
ch seclusion
removing to

and shortly

Afar^arct IVilsoji.

after their entrance upon city life, that the student John \\\Uox\
v-.i> introduced to Margaret's family. He had nearly completed
h.- studies ])reparatory to ordination, and was looking forward,
with intense longings and hopes, to devoting his whole life to
llli^sionary work India had been assigned to hin. oy the Scot-
tish Missionary Society as his futuro field of labour. Looking
back over the grand and comprehensive work which Jo'.in
Wilson accomplished during nearly half a century of almost
(oiitinuous labour, we may see in his humble prayerful spirit
the source of iiis power. We transcribe one prayer recorded
111 his journal shortly before he entered the circle which was
to become associated with all his future life. After thankfully
acknowledging the goodness of God in graciously fulfilling the
desire of his heart by opening the way for him to become a niis-
MoiKiry, he adds these petitions: "O Lord, do Thou prep.iie me
for preaching Christ crucified with love and with i)ou-er; do Thou
/'I- ■/./<•, // iiprt-ablc to Thy 7vi//, a suitable partner of my lot.
and one 70 ho will encoura^^e me and labour with me in Thv -work.
Do Thou, in Thy good time, convey me in safety to the place
of my destination; do Thou open for me a wide and effectual
<l<"«r of utterance, do Thou preserve my life fjr usefulness ;
and do Thou make me successful in winning souls to Christ."^
'J'hese prayers, inspired as they no doubt were by the Holy
Cilio^t, were answered abundantly.

John Wilson's intimacy with the Aimily at Comely Rank
coiuiiieiiced under peculiarly sacred circumstances. ICli/a
i; lyiie, who had long been failing in health, had become much
worse, and there was now no hope of restoration. During the
cailiLi- stages of her illness she had been deeply absorbed in
cunimunion with her Saviour and in the almost hourly study
ot the Scriptures. For some time she spoke but little about
her experience, but as she neared her heavenly home she was
tnableil to declare to the brother and sisters who ministered

S3
1S5

and

'I.ifc of John Wilson, D.D.. F.II.S., for fifty years philanthropist
scliolar in the East." By George Smith, LL.I).

134

Consccrcf': / Women.

10 liLT how great things the Lord had done for licr soul.
Many were the wtjrds of counsel \vhi( h fell from her lips ; at
one time she said to those arcund : " Oh that you were nnuv
like the children of light in this evil world ! (Jh that you did
more to promote Mis kingdom and honour up(n earth ! Study
tile liiMe more, 1 have hjund it the best hook.'' Margaret
writes of the joy of which they were made j)artakers, *• in wit-
nessing in their beloved sister's experience such striking and
marvellous displays of God"s power." Witli true Christian
sulunission all were enabled to give her up, their one desire
for her being that .she might " be made perfect ii\ her Re-
deemer, and see Him as lie is."'

Duiing the list ni,_;ht. just when they were expecting her to
pass away, VXv/.x suddenly resived, an expression of ineffable
joy beamed in her face, and her eye seemed da/z.led with the
glory beyond. She exclaimed : " Anna, my sister, am I come
back to you all?" Some one repeated, "'I hough 1 w.ilk
through the valley of the sliadn-.v of chath 1 will fear no evil";
she linished the passage and ih. ii exclaimed, "lie compasseth
me will) s(jngs of deliveraiK e.'' Asking all to kiss her, she
commended ihem to God, and as the day dawned fell asleep
in Jesus with the "expression of joy siill lingering on her
face."

We now come to the time when Margaret Ikiyne was to be
removed to a larger and far distant field of .abour. We have
seen how richly her mind was stored; and no less in the school
of sorrow had her soul been trained and disciplined for the
trials and difficulties of the way. As a good sohiier of Jesus
Christ she had learned to endure hardness. Her intercourse
with John Wilson had resulted in a mutual attachment between
them. Not only was his heart engaged, but his judgment saw
in Margaret's cultivated powers and religious experience just
the help he personally needed, and also he rejoiced to discern
licr eminent fitness to assist him in his future work in India.
With these convictions to supplement his love, he ofltered her
his hand, asking her '* to share his joys, his sorrows, his toil,

Nl zlbl I UJ. U3XKjiajL0 3a |__j

Margaret Wilson.

135

or her soul.

her lijis ; at
u were mi'ic
that yoii dill
irth ! iSlutly
'' Margaret
,ers, '• in wit-

strikiiiL,' and
lie Cliri^lian
ir one desire
t in her Re-

ccting her to

of inelV;ihIe

r'.led will) llie

ani I come

niyh I walk

.■ar no evil";

( onipasseth

kiss her, she

.'d fell asleep

■rln,; on her

lie was to he
r. We have
in the school
'lined for the
lier of Jesus
r intercourse
lent between
idgmcnt saw
)eriencc just
;d to discern
ork in India.
e offered her
ows, his toil,

ar.d its reward." Margaret, as was her wont, sought guidance
in jicrsevcring prayer, and, when assured that this thing was
of the Lord, accepted his proposal, thus filling him with in-
iK scribable joy. The " bright prospects " which weie tlien
opened up to him, he tells us, " were more than a hundred
fold realized."

For six montlis previously Margaret had been engaged iti
" earnest and almost constant jjrayer "' that a path niigiit be
opened up to her, in which she might " serve God with con-
stancy and greater devotedness of heart." And, now that that
path was developing before her, she had an overwhelming
sense of her weakness and insufficiency for the work. How-
ever, she looked to the Strong for strength, and in abiding
communion and earnest prayer for herself and for him to
whom she had given heart and hand, her strength was renewed
day by day.

While she gave herself joyfully and unreservedly to the
husband whom God had chosen for her, her affectionate nature
>ufrercd much from the outward severing from those to whom
she was closely bound by the ties of kindred and of friendship.
She writes to a much loved friend : " I have already feh the
pangs of separation from those I love, in the painf'" and
constant anticipation of it. I feel that it will be fo er in
this world. We may meet again ; bu. my heart, with a painful
and prophetic foreboding, assures me wc shall not."'

The thought of an eternal r* aion with her beloved ones
was a source of great comfort to her, and she seemed at times
to realize this prospect with remarkable vividness. During
the absence of \\^x fiance Margaret Uaync thus .^ Idresses him:
" I felt so deeply affect <d at parting with you, and hid s'lch a
consciousness of my own weakness, that, had my thwi 'i^'s not
turned to the omnipotency of God, they would have re .mbled
the dove which came forth from the ark, when, floating above
the solitude of the waters, she could not find a pl.u-e to rest
licr weary wing. I was cheered by the assurane that the
throne of grace was open to my api^roaeh, and that the great

'36

Consecrated Wo7ncn,

"•*>»

•ItH

High Pncst, now set over tlie house of God, is the sole and
abso ute proprietor of that rich treasury of spiritual blessings
which He dispenses in varied proportions to His believing
people. . . I iiad much enjoyment in committing you to
God, and in reHecting upon your future prospects. The
presence of Jesus compassing you, all His high perfections
enlisted for your support, and your happiness becoming purer
by being assimilated to the joys of heaven, were brought to
my mind with a certainty of belief which made my unbelievincr
heart ashamed of its former doubting, and caused me to lift my
feeble voice in thanksgiving to God. I could rejoice in His
work as at present going on ; and, still more, in the anticipation
of that glorious time when His mystery shall be accomplished
m the complete triumphs of the cross. Outward events seemed
to pass au-ay ; and even this earth, which looked so fair and
beautiful, lost its verdure when contrasted with the splendours
of the new heavens and the new earth wherein dwelleth riglit-
eousness. You are invested with a high and sacred chamcter
1 shall pray that you may be enabled to make full proof of
your ministry. . . I fed joy in going back upon the stream
of prophetic history, and forward through its jet unaccom-
plished events, till my thoughts reach that period when com-
mences the era of earth's redemption and of the church's
glory. . . If we arc true missionaries we shall go fortli
with our lives in our hnnds, ready to sacrifice them, or to
devote them to the service of the heathen, as our heavenly
Father may see meet. It is a delightful thought that there will
be no interruption to His service. If life is prolonged, it will
be for this purpose ; if death comes it will usher us into a
world furnished with new and higher capacities for its per-
formance."

On a bright summer's day, August i^th, 1828, John Wilson
and Margaret Ba) ne were united in marriage. To the bride
and bridegroom it was an occasion ot much solemnity Only
a few short months had elapsed since they had sat by Fliza's
couch and listened to her dyii/g counsels ; Margaret, with her

Nl dbl I UX U:JXUiaxa3a lj

Margaret Wilson.

^Z1

sister Mary, had just returned from a visit to the grave of their

parents ; and remembrances of the past mingled witli thoughts

of the parting so near at hand During their few remaining

days in Scotland Margaret Wilson accompanied her husband

to his native district, where a warm reception was given her by

his friends. In the hour of separation it was an unspeakable

comfort to her sensitive feelings that her relatives and friends

gave her up willingly, although they keenly felt their own

personal loss. Her brother and one sister accompanied the

missionaries to London. Just before leaving that city for

Portsmouth, Margaret AVilson thus addressed her sisters who

remained behind : " It were vain, even if it were possible, to

give utterance to my thoughts at this moment. Much as I

felt the pang of separation after parting with you, I did not

fully realize its agony till now that the time is approaching

when we must bid adieu to Britain. A thousand scenes that

had passed away rise anew to my remembrance, and, when I

think of never again seeing you, never again listening to the

accents of your voices, I would sink into despair were I not

strengthened by an unseen energy and by the hope of a blessed

reunion. O my beloved sisters, make the eternal God your

refuge, and give reality to your convictions by repairing to

Ilim amid every difficulty, and by reposing upon His almighty

strength. Do not live as if this earth were your dwelling-place,

but, remembering that your home is in heaven, act as becometh

those who look forward to its glories."

The next extract is from a letter written by her on ship-
board as the ship was leaving.

September 14///.— This is the Sabbath day, and even here
there is much to hallow it. The glorious events which it com-
memorates should ever be uppermost in our minds; and,
though there be no public sanctuary where we assemble in
communion with the saints, our cabin and our hearts may
liecome a sanctuary for the Divine presence. All is confusion
and bustle on board. The pilot is to take our letters on shore.
My buk)ved, my ever dear sisters I must now bid you adieu.

iMi

•(IP'*"

138

Consecrated Women,

'IliJi

^^''^y tlie eternal God be our portion, and

under you stretch His everlasting arras. Yours in much
love. Margaret.''

Referring to some days of stormy weather, she writes in her
journal ;

" There was something in the war of ihe elements without,
and m the stillness and gloom of our cabin, which might have
rendered me uneasy and excited painful feeling; but I ex-
perienced the fulfilment of the truth of the declaration of Scrip-
ture, ' Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is
stayed on Thee ' ; and tliough the ideas of shipwreck and death
frequently arose to my mind, I felt no terror, but an additional
confidence in Him who ruleth, in the raging of the sea com-
manding its proud waves to be still."

During the first part of the long vo3age, of five months'
duration, much suffering was caused to the missionaries by the
ojiposition of nearly all on board to that holy living which
was in the Wilsons the natural expression of their love to
Christ. However, as time went on, the consistency of their
conduct won the respect of most on board, and we learn that
"opposition nearly disappeared among the passengers; and
the sailors whom he had inlluenced for good treated Mr
Wilson very tenderly amid the high frolic of those days in
crossing the line."

Referring to some of these experiences Margaret Wilson
writes :" We were brought into circumstances o? persecution
for the trial of our faith; and to prepare us for the difficulties
which we have to encounter in heathen lands; and it was when
our fears were most painfully excited in looking forward to
the remaining part of oui voyage tluit relief was in a manner
accorded to us. This should teach us to rely with increased
fimh and simplicity on the declarations which God hath made
res])cciing His cause in the world."

In the prospect of pariing from those with whom they had
been in daiiy association during five months she says :

" They are now about to enter upon the varied scenes of

Nl dibl I UJL UdJLxJTaxcjna | ~^r

Maro^arct Wilson,

139

writes in her

jleasure, to toil, and perhaps some of them to bleed, for fame.
ihe temptations of an Indian life are great; and few, I fear,
will have any desire to resist them. Nothing but the omnipo-
tence of grace can be their safeguard. Oh tiiat the love of
Jesus were shed abroad in their hearts ! "

In February, 1829, they landed in Bombay, and after two
months passed with missionary friends Mr. and Mrs. Wilson
reached Harnai in the southern Konkan. Here they remained
while studying the Marathi language. They entered on this
study " resolved not to intermit their labour till they were able
to declare to the people in their own tongue the wonderful
works of God." The pundit " often expressed his surprise and
astonishment at the intelligence and aptitude of his female
scholar," and indeed her enthusiasm in learning the languagf},
and her intense longing to convey to the native women the
glad tidings of the gospel, were a constant encouragement to
her husband. The following is from a letter to her sisters and
brother.

'■'• May 2C)th. . . . We have once or twice indeed been
threatened with "; - dreadful malady, home sickness, and I was
aI>solulely suff.i / : from its ravages when the sight of the
Marathi pundit, with his terrible apparatus of words and idioms,
by which our minds as well as our lips are forced into all pos-
sible contortions, put its symptoms to flight, and brought to
my thoughts the importance and magnitude of that object
to which we have devoted ourselves, and for the attainment of
vvhich we should willingly make much greater sacrifices. . .
The suspense and anxiety which we have suftered, from not
having received letters from you, has been very great; and how
justly may I say that my heart would have sunk within me,
at the remembrance of you all, with the thought of what you
may have suffered, had I not at all times the throne of grace
before me, and were I not assured that all events are under
the control of Him who appoints them in infinite wisdom.
. . . May God bless you with the choicest blessings of His
house. Ever your affectionate Margaret."

':0

^ittCM*

:Ji

140

Consecrated Women,

'•%<t.

'> t

So rapid was their progress in the language tliat on the 27111
of September John Wilson preached his first sermon in Mara-
thi, and his wife began her work by catechising some of the
children in the scliools. On the 25th of November the mis-
sionaries left the Konkan for the seat of the Presidency, " carry-
ing with them the best wishes of their friends, to whom Mrs.
Uilson had endeared herself in no ordinary degree." Although
she deeply sympathised with, and, as occasion required, as-
sisted in he. husband's work, her own mission work was in
great measure distinct, and it is this with which we have to
concern ourselves.

Fifty years ago the difficulties connected with female
education in India must have been even greater than ^hev
are now. In IJombay the work entered ui>on by Mar-arc't
^Vllson was pioneering work. She found the women of fndii
not merely without a knowledge of the gospel, but steeped in
Ignorance, and wanting in domestic virtues, and so restrained
from the exercise of their natural feelings of affection and
tenderness as to be incapable of training their children or of
counselling and h.-manizing their husbands. She saw that the
nnprovement of native society depended lar-dy on the eleva-
tion of the women, and she hastened to do her part to promote
this great work.

Tlie missionaries removed to the premise? enga^red for the
miss.on in December, 1S29; and before they were comfortably
settled in, Margaret \\'ilson began to make her arrangements
for carrying out her sdieme of female education and evangelis-
ation. She engaged three IJrahmans as teachers, whonr she
seconded in their endeavours to i)rocure scholars; this she did
by personal visitation in the homes. Her persuasion, at first
told most on the lowest class, whose superstition is not so im-
movable as that of the higher classes. She encourarred the
cluldren by giving a few rewards which were wisely dis-
tributed. In addition to these duties, Margaret Wilson had to
teach iK-r masters the best method of imparting instruction,
and she had much to contend with in their ''prejudices, in-

t on the 27th
non in Mara-

some of the
iber the mis-
ncy, " carry-

whom Mrs.
." Although
required, as-
work was in

we have to

^•ith female
r than they
by Marc^aret
icn of India
t steeped in

restrained
tection and
lildren or of
>a\v that tlie
n the eleva-

to promote

ged for tiie
comfortably
rangements

1 evangch'z-
whom she

his she did
on, at first,
not so im-
uraged the
tvisely dis-
son had to
nstruction,
judices, in-

Margaret Wilson. 141

dolcncc and unfaithfulness." In these early days of the
mission she had to teach, herself, for hours daily in the schools,
and also ficciuently to examine those children who were under
the care of the native teachers. Before she had been six
months in Bombay she had six schools in working order, con-
tammg m all one hundred and twenty pupils. In spite of the
careless habits of parents and children, and the many interrup-
tions from festivals and marriages, it was wonderful what rapid
progress was made by some of the girls in the acquisition both
oi secular and religious knowledge.

\n the spring of 1830 the birili of a son brought much joy
into the missionaries' home. To her sisters, whom she ever
dchghted to make sharers in all her interests, xMargaret Wilson
^\ riles ;

''May\(,'th. . . . I rejoice in having this opportunity
of confirming with my own hand the joyous tidings which were
conveyed to you by Mr. Wilson's letter. We have often
pictured, in imagination, the joy which it would impart to you,
and the gratitude which must have thrilled through your
iiearts, on being informed of the imminent danger from which
I was delivered. . . . God in His lovingkindness has
not only seen fit to spare me a little longer, but has blessed
me by making me a joyful mother. Our beloved Andrew is a
most fascinating baby."

The latter part of the letter is filled with the interests of
the great work m which she was engaged. In future letters the
descrii)tions of Andrew's growth in mind and body are very
pretty. On July 21, 1S30, she writes :

"My health is now quite restored, and I have been enabled
to return to the study of the language, and to the work to
^vhlch I desire to devote the remaining energies of my life
yiy leisure for study is now very limited, as my female schools
require vigilant superintendence and occupy a great propor-
tion of my time. Much of it is also taken up in the reL'ulation
01 huusenola atla:rs, and in attendance upon my little boy.
Ihchttle darling is every day becoming more and more in-

142

Consccraicd Women.

"'^^Ht

tcrcsting. Some of the first words we shall teach him to lisp
will be the names of my beloved sisters. His nurse, more
imaginative than his papa and mamma, declares that he already
says * Unco ' ! ' Aunt '! but, as this precocity would have in it
a little of the marvellous, I think you had better not credit
it."

The letter ends thus : " My heart turns to you all with an
affection so intense that it amounts to agony. How sweet is
the peace of heaven ! What a contrast to tlie turmoil of our
best and purest earthly love ! Ever yours, MAUfiAREx."

She writes to one of her sisters of the little church already
called into existence through their instrumentality.

''January^, 1831. . . . JMy beloved John and I are,
at present, in the possession of excellent health. Our ties to
India are becoming stronger and stronger. . . We have a
standing memorial of the Divine faithfulness in that little
church which lie hath formed among us; and though it is the
object of care and of agonized solicitude to those\-ho have
been instrumental in planting it, and who know the number
and hostile array of its enemies, this circumstance, like the
watching and solicitude of a tender parent, deepens their affec-
tion to the helpless and unprotected objects of their love."

This year John ^Vilson made his i-rst extensive mis^qonary
tour. Both he and his wife considered itinerating as a most
important department of their work in disseminatmg the
gospel. He says : " that her fitness to conduct, for a se°ason,
the affairs of the mission at h j, and her eagerness to have
the gospel message more ex aisively made known, were his
principal encouragements to proceed."

In this and many other seasons of loneliness Margaret
Wilson felt that the trial had come to her in the path of duty,
and that " the path of duty \^ the path of happiness." Her
letters to her husband are deeply interesting. Her rejoicing
over the success of his mission, her words of courage and lii-h
Christian: hope when the enemies of the cross seemed to have
gained an advantage over his work, together with her accounts

INI di:>l I UX UzJXvJiaxo^a

Ma7'garct Wilson,

143

h him to II.sp
> nurse, more
hat he ah-cady
liIcI have in ii
.ter not credit

lU all with an

How sweet is

iirmoil of our

IGARET."

hurch already

in and I are,
Our ties to
We have a
in that little
ough it is the
3se who have
iv the number
.Rce, like the
ns their affec-
eir love."
/e mis;-ionary
ig as a most
minating tlie
for a season,
ness to have
>wn, were his

;s3 Margaret
lath of duty,
iness." Her
ler rejoicing
age and high
;med to have
her accounts

of the mission life at home, and her lively notes of Andrew's
doings, must have greatly brightened his path. For her he
i;ci)t a journal of his labours, and this was her great solace ; it
contained many allusions to his tender love for her and their
little boy. During this time of loneliness Margaret Wilson
.ullered from an illness, and while she informed her husband of
It, It was only to her far distant sister that she described the
diliiculties and desolation of being alone among servants of
. irange tongues. She writes :

" You can scarcely conceive the horror of being obliged to
talk not only in one but in several languages, when sickness is
l-reyuig upon you, and when every little want, instead of being
anticipated and relieved, is unknown and unregarded till
rei^eated over and over again. Still, however, my heavenly
I'alher was near to soothe my sorrow, and the book of inspi-
ration unfolded to me those p:.;re and exhaustless treasures
which are adapted to every exigency, and to all the evils
which may surround our path."

To her husband, after speaking of rapid improvement in
her health, she writes :

"I have felt this period of comparative cessation from
worldly cares, as my beloved John did the sabbath which
he so beautifully described on his journey. The communicn
winch we enjoy in solitude, with the Father of our spirits
has something in it more sublime and heavenly, more allied to
the pure and undisturbed enjoyments of the heavenly state,
than that which we enjoy at intervals and amid the cares of
the world. The latter is however in accordance with our
state of warfare, and that feeling of exile we must experience
till we arrive at that blessed home which Christ has prepared
for those who love Him, and where they will behold the full
view of His glory. I received your letter on Tuesday, and
it-ad It with interest and delight. Many thanks for all the
■itlection which it breudies towards me and our little pet."
^ He cannot help contrasting her expressions of the joy of
:ieavenly fellowship, even in solitude, with the experience of

144

Consecrated Women.

*i*

LcfllLVf " "'''"'■"' "^■' ""8^-' «''-" "it- to one or

on Ihc 2-ih of In !! ? '"'■■ "'P''"'- I ™= confined

ducod l,;'s kl^l "°""'' """,' "-'S'- Previously „,nch re

now able go Ib^t rr^; '' ''^'"" '" "'''"" "'^' ' "-
feu so well I'c my i Jl I„T' '""' "'^ ""' ' '"^^ "°'
darling is also doi!,^ rli; r^cH "I'^r- "a c.^'^ 'i"'-

S'/ztcr/rsr-r^-' • ^°-'"'-

mrae he L to b ar I ^ °'',f ™'' '■•"■"'^'' ''""--• "''o^'--
sen, to ny heart wh.nr"",,'"7°" "^^ thrill ,vhieh ,vas
AW//, 2,..r Mv't", ".'. ^'"^^'^ l''^I« fi'^t called hin,

cnrotions and y4a'h,ef ' ^'TraVh ^1"'''' '" "^
to us be Riven to tiri ^ ■" "j^^ ""= "''o has been given

that hemrrcscrabe not .'"'''''"'•'''°" '""' covenant, so
dear fathe ' You hije ' ? T """' '"' '" "'■■'^-'". »"'
pets together r' ,"° '*': '°" '"'^^t it is to see the two

a Father's love' Vnd / '"" '° "'"^'Plate the pledges of
jiiieis io\e, and it is sweeter siill m mLo ti' fe = "•

Clous gifts and lay them unon hL "" """^ P'^'

are wholly Thine to iL 1 u '■^\^'- ''y'"S. 'Lord, they

watchful p'ovid"c'e I com„,it:'h''"nr'^"'' '° ^"^ "-
;■.- destinies, and .'..eire^^Ls ^t l^.t^ <"

in t?tmon:XZTrT"' '"' ''" ""»- dehgh,
was consecrated :, he LoTd"andT ",' "'■""."■"'■ ^^^ ^"i'd
.«in«Ied with he d en tSAd "'■■'"' '" "■«=Joyscom.

- tbe redeemer. ^.l^dot^tSZrr;':-:-^^

npai dbii raxTj=i±v7Taxs3a lj

Maroani irihoii.

145

such full and
ascribes those
he services of

rites to one of

incing, by my
was confined
isly much re-
id that I am
at I have not
t. The little
a captivating
Sometimes 1
you, and at
fatlicr, whose
ill which was
called him
ipate in my
s been given
covenant, so
laracter, our
see the two
e pledges of
s most pre-
' Lord, they
) Thy ever
2 arbiter 01
ed if they
Thou hast

nse delight
Each child
ijoyscom-
the spread
:ie mission

fidd was carried on witli vigour, her domestic duties were never
neglected. Twice blessed are those families in which the
mother (even if she cannot actively work for others) h:is her
heart enlarged to pray earnestly for the church and fur the
wurKI, whilst her first desire is for the consecration of her
own household.

Margaret Wilson had frequently to watch by the bedside of
<!ymg friends, especially of female missionaries, whose de-
l-uture made sad blanks in the mission band. One lady,
to whom she was much attached, had been only two years
III the country. She had come out witii her brother, and
•Margaret Wilson had assisted in ''putting on her bridal
atiire and now clothed her in the garments in which she
uas laid in the tomb." Mrs. Graham had just learned the
Maratlu language, and had made arrangements to assist her
iriend in the schools. She said it was mysterious to her to be
• ailed away, before beginning the work into which she had so
intensely longed to enter. " But," she added, "perhaps there
was delusion in my feelings ; and I shall praise Him without
end, and show forth the honour of His name through all
eternity." " When she saw me weeping," writes Mrs. Wilson,
">lie took my hand and kissed it, and said, 'I may be present
With you sometimes, for you tliink that the spirits of the just
encamp around the saints and take an interest in all that is
going on in this world.' I said, 'Yes, I think it probable';
and the idea seemed to please her." Her end was triumphant^
and her friends, while mourning her loss, rejoiced in her joy.

In the autumn of 1831 the Wilsons went, with their two little
boys, to the annual meeting of the Bombay Missionary Union
at Puna. I^Iargaret Wilson's descriptions of the journey, which
took a fortnight going and returning, and of the scenery, are
very pleasant, and the expedition must have proved a great
refreshment to her. Writing in December, she speaks of the
'unguig (which she seems often to have felt) to write separately
10 the members of the home circle. She had thoughts and
fechngs which were flowing towards them with an individual

146

Consecrated Women.

"•tii

love and interest ditTcrcnt for each one. But the time failed
her. " My hands are so full of work," she says to one of her
sisters, "and my head so busy, that, were you here, you would
find me searrliing into ponderous volumes for Marathi, Hin-
dustani, Persian, Arabic, and Sanscrit words to express my
thoughts; and after all, perhaps, only making havoc of the
idea, or conveying it obscurely to minds shut up in the dark-
ness of idolatry and sin. I am also engaged in translating a
Irench work, which is itself a translation of the Vendidad
Sade, one of the sacred books of the Parsees. It has never
been translated into I'lnglish."

Dr. Wilson adds: "This version of a work whirh few
would read for hire, but which she viewed as of the greatest
importance for the exposure of the errors of the human mind
and for forming a shade to set forth the brightness of Divine
truth, she brought to completion. It was of great use in the
discussion which I was conducting. The Vendidad Sade
though daily used by the Parsees in Zand, is fully understood
by none of their number, and very few copies of the Gujaralhi
translation are in existence. The veneration entertained for it
I have always seen diminish on increased acquaintance with it
An artihcial mysteriousness and r.n engrossing ceremonious-
ncss constitute much of the strength of superstition, as I have
frequently heard admitted by priests of different sects in
India."'

In the discussion mentioned above, Margaret Wilson felt
extreme mtercst and she thus refers to the part her husl.ind
took in It. " He has been the first in the Bombay Presidency
to attack the Parsees, Mahommedans, and Brahmans, in a
sustained and systematic form, or to expose the more obscure
and scholastic part of their religion. The moral courage
requisite fur the attack can only be estimated by those who
have come in contact with native prejudice, or know the deep
rooted aversion which they cherish to Europeans and their
religion. This moral courage, as well as every other gift
necessary, was of God, and to Him we would ascribe the

R! dbn UX\J:ixaiai53a i" i—

Afar^arci Wihou.

147

K'^ry. . . . The effects of this controversy have already
huen widely felt among all classes of the Hindus, and many
(.f them tremble for the coming storm, which is to sweep away
tlkir ancient superstition and level their authcjrity to the dust.
!';d they know the unfathomable love and condescension of
Hun who is a hiding place from the storm, how would their
h itred be turned into love, and their cruel blasphemies of the
naiie of Jesus into praise and the loudest acclamation of joy !
This period is fast ai-proaching. I felt a few evenings ago,
when the converts were assembled for prayer in the upper
verandah, as if we had in truth and in reality a foretaste. It
was during the celebration of one of the most horrid and impure
festivals observed in this part of India. The sound of their
unnatural music, of their invocations of the gods, of their fierce
and maddening shouts and hallooings, contrasted strangely with
the voice of lowly adoration and thanksgiving which rose to
the throne of God and of the Lamb."

Karly in 1832 Margaret ^^'iIson commenced, with the co-
oiKTation of several Christian ladies in IJombay, a school for
tlie children of the most destitute class of natives, who were
employed in running with messarrcs, carrying small burdens,
ana doing many little th.ings to add to the support of th<'ir
families. "Great difficulties," she tells us, "were experienced
m ( arrying the design into effect ; but care in ex])laining to tne
natives the object in view, the visible comfort of the few girls
who were at first admitted, with prayer and perseverance, ere
long prevailed. The institution, which was the first of its kind
HI this part of India, has been remarkably blessed, and several
of its scholars have been admitted into the visible church."

Besides the oversight given to all licr schools, and more con-
tmuously to the girls' school on the mission premises, \rargarct
^Vilsun weekly assembled the scholars from the more distant
I'arts of the town to receive religious instruction in the mission
hall. The expense of their conveyance in native r^nrlis y.-as
defrayed by the proceeds of ladies' work sent fro; i''En;,dand
In reference to the enlargement of her work she writes?—" 1

148

Consicc rated Women.

"■^

feel that every increase of occupation brings with it an increase
of ha])i»iness, and I see in this arrangement a wonderful illustra-
tion of the goodness of (iod." She thus spjaks of her children :
"Andrew begins to asset I his superiority over Kenneth, who
has very extravagant ideas of his own importance, and is not
disj)osed to yield a single iota to the other . , . They
are both very sweet and amusing, though sufficiently si)iriteel
and lively. Their little prattle is very amusing ; Andrew's
bein a mixture of Engli Ji, Hindustani and Marathi, with an
utter confusion of all grammar.'"

In this year Dr. Wilson had to leave home for change of air,
and to his wife's other duties were added the care of the native
converts and the correction of the press. From her numerous
letters to him at this time we give an extract :

" The sweet little darlings are quite well, but this weather
makes them look pale and languid. Did you make out the
meaning of Andrew's sublime hieroglyphics? They .e more
intelligible to me than some of those in the study of which
learned men are consuming their strength. I had nearly sixty
girls in the central school to-day, and they began and ended by
singing a hymn. There was lililo or no music in the combination
of sounds, but it was sweeter to me than the finest melody, as
it reminded me of the predi'icd time when the voice of praise
shall be heard in every dwelbng and ascend from every heart.
I shall think much of you to-morrow. Oh may you be in the
Spirit on the Lord's day, an 1 enjoy such communion with the
Father of your spirit as sliall 1 c an emblem and pledge of
heaven."

Margaret Wilson was now to enter into a fiery furnace, and
to have her faith and trust put to a severe test. Her husband
writes : '• In the beginning of September a roll like that of the
prophet Ezekiel, wherein was written, ' lamentations, and
mourning, and woe,' came into my hands from our native
country, and I trembled when I was called to announce its
heavy tidings."

Mary and Isabella Bayne had gone to the "ridge of Allan for

IMI aOI I \JS. VJZlJ.\,'HJ-l.O J«-l

JMaygarct JViison.

149

an increase
jrful illustra-
cr tliildrcn :
.•nncth, who
, and is not

. . They
ntly spiritcil
; Andrew's
ihi, with an

!ian{^o of air,
jf the native
er niunerous

til is weather
ake out tlie
cy ^e more
dy of which

nearly sixty
nd ended by
combination
,t melody, as
ice of praise

every heart.
3U be in the
on with the
d pledge of

furnace, and
ler husband
e that ot the
talioas, and
1 our native
innounce its

e of Allan for

v.e benefii of Isal)clla's health. She was already so much re-
stored that their brother had left them about a week, when a
iiuurniul catastrophe occurred. On going to bathe it appears

Isabella had

th(

.iter prepared for bathing',
;id had, it is supposed, slidden over a quicksand into the depth
i'cyund. Her sister, in her usual dress, had rushed into the
re:,( ue, and both had been drowned.

As soon as the painful tidini^s were conveyed to their sistef
.^^ar^^^aret, she exclaimed: "Let us ca.st ourselves into the
arms of the Lord, and feel ourselves surrounded by His love
Jul grace !" Th_n the husband and wife sought help together
the footstool of the Lord, and she realized His consolations
t) be even then iioured into her wounded spirit. Her language
b ; ore God was, " I was dumb, I opened not my mouth, because
'i hou didst it." Realizing her own sli jilco aings in view of
that holiness with which she was always suekin; to be clothed,
he nccepted the chastisement as sent in inercv. and exjiressed
the hope that the furnace was heated '• to iritj <iot to destroy."
She thus addresses her brother and si.ster.-> . " With what words
can I convey to my beloved and afllicted sisters and brother
tile emotions which agitate my licart, in now attempting to
write to them ! Shall 1 tell them of the alternate agony, and
suspension of sorrow by its ow:i mtensity, we experienced on
first receiving accounts of tie heartrending catastrophe, by
\\hich our beloved ^Lary and Isabella were so suddenly and so
mysteriously removed from tii.Mn? . , . Shall I speak of
tile blight and the desolation v.l.ich this solemn event has shed
aroun<l us? or shall I tell of the acute pangs which dirt into
our souls at the remembrance of the loved ones who still weep
in secret, and the inexpressible longings we at times feel
once more to mingle our joys and our sorrows with theirs
around the family altar ? No, these were inadeijuate subjects
to dwell upon, and unbefitting the lofty theme which now
excites the ardour and absorbs the attention of the redeemed
and glorified spirits who have gone before us to the dwelling-
I'lace of God, the home prepared lor them by Jesus. . . ,

iSo

Consecrated Women,

•sill
f

Shall we not rejoice that our sweet ^[ary and Isabella were so
soon counted worthy to be admitted among tliis number?
. . . Oh let us hold communion witli them now, and with
Him who deigns to commune widi us from His mercy seat.
It will be sweeter by far than our earthly fellowship." In the
same letter she speaks of the baby's illness : " Our darling
Kenneth has been for two months a severe sufferer ; and that
he IS yet alive and with us seems to be almost a miracle. . . .
We weep in anguish over the little sufferer, but there are
moments when our sorrow is tranciuillized, and when even a
parent's heart is made willing to resign the cherished object
of affection to that Saviour who said ' Suffer little children to
come unto Me,' etc. How sweet to think that he will be
received into the bosom of eternal love when removed from
our weeping embrace. . . . Not our will, O Lord, but
'I'hine be done !"

Ten days later she sends the tidings that the beloved child
had " in mercy " been taken from them. She writes :

" He knew us all to the last, and continued to lisp in such
accents as I shall never forget, his own little words and
sentences. . . . Three different times he looked upwards
with a smile of joy and astonishment, as if some vision had
burst upon his sight. . . . The agony of that hour [of
parting] was mexpressible, and we both felt that nought but an
almighty Arm could have upheld us under the stroke. Our
Divine Redeemer was with us in the furnace, and I trust He
will sit as a • refiner and purifier ' till the dross is consumed,
and till the gold comes forth seven times tried. On Monday
the mortal remains of our dear Kenneth were committed to
the dust. He was laid in a little white coffin, with the name
and age, ' Kenneth Bayne Wilson, eighteen months,' inscribed
upon it. He now sleeps in an Indian grave, far from you and
from those precious ones who so recently preceded him to
rlorv. ijut his dust is not unnoticed by the Redeemer, who
willguard and keep it till the resurrection day. \Ve shall often
revisit the spot : and when they from the east and from the

Margaret IVilson.

LSI

bella were so
liis nuuiber?
)\v, and with
s mercy scat,
lip." In the
' Our darling
•er ; and that
cicle. . . .
ut there are
when even a
rished object
c children to
at he will be
■cmoved from
O Lord, but

beloved child
ites :

:o lisp in such

le words and

oked upwards

nc vision had

that hour [of

nought but an

; stroke. Our

nd I trust He

J is consumed,

On Monday

committed to

with the name

iths,' inscribed

from you and

:ceded him to

.edeemer, who

We shall often

and from the

vest, from the north and from the south, shall be reunited in
unc blessed family, you will behold it in its reanimated form
a glorious body, without spot or wrinkle, clad in immortal
: ibcs. The little darling was in disposition the happiest child
J ever saw. Every new object seemed to inspire him with
delight almost unnatural in one so young. What then must
have been his feelings of rapture when his knowledge expanded,
and when the splendour of the heavenly state opened on his
view ! "

In November Margaret Wilson accompanied her husband,
who was starting on a long tour, as far as Puna. On her
return, she writes to him that Andrew had been unwell and
was ordered to Scotland without delay. She mentions tl ,it,
providentially, the friends to whom the little boy was to be
entrusted were likely to sail in less than two months. She
adds : " The trial is great indeed, but I trust the Lord will
give us grace to submit to it with Christian fortitud and
resignation. Let us be grateful to Him for such a home, and
such sisters." Then, turning from their own personal interests
to the great mission in which her husband was engaged, she
gives him words of cheer :

" May the Lord bring to nought the machinations of His
enemies, and defeat all their counsels ! I look upon the per-
secution which you have received as a prelude to future
success J for if the garrison of the enemy were secure his
sentinels would not be so energetic and active as they have
been in the present instance."

On die 26th of December she writes to her husband that
tb.e Lady Raffles is to sail for London on the 25th of January.
. . . " My spirits grew faint," she says, " and my heart beat
wuh sorrow when I felt that the time is approaching when we
ini:,t part with our dear and now only child. The darling was
amusing himself at the tea table, his lovely little countenance
unclouded by any anxiety. His smiles made him dearer than
ever in my view, and I was afraid to interrupt the course of
I'l' enjoyment by shedding tears in his presence. I therefore

•Wti

...3*

00^

». .fe.

l;?

Consecrated Women,

. »<(* i.|il't

">: (I

M'tl

retired to my own room, and amidst the overflowing ot natural
sorrow found near and consoling access to the throne of our
heavenly Father. . . . AVe know that the objects of our
affection are safe under the shadow of the Almighty's wing, and
that even a fatlier's care and a mother's tenderness are but faint
emblems of His. . . . May we dedicate our precious boy
anew unto the I.ord ! It is sweet to think that we have done
so together, and tliat we can do it again when he is on the
niiglity ocean, or far distant in our beloved native land."

To some dear friends in Scotland :

'* This epistle will be conveyed to you by a litde messenger
from the East, whose language I fear you will not understand,
if it continues as purely Oriental as it is at present. His
JCnglish sentences are very short, and almost all in Hindustani
idiom, which must appear very amusing to strangers." She
then refers to the separation, expressing the hope that it may
prepare her for parting from one " dearer than life itself, whep
it is the will of her gracious Father to sever the ties which unite
them together."

From Bandara, whither she had retired to recruit from ill
health, Margaret Wilson writes :

''April, 1S33. . . . At two o'clock I went to instruct
the ayahs, and had no sooner sat down than I got a large con-
gregation. I began to shake when I saw them arrayed before
me ; but when I remembered that they were immortal beings,
and knew not the precious gospel, I went on, forgetful of lan-
guage, logic, and even of good pronunciation. I have been
very much pleased to hear the ayah telling the people about
Jesus. She is a much better preacher than I am, though she
wants knowledge."

In Margaret Wilson's records we read continually how she
welcomed the Sabbath with joy as a day of special spiritual
blessing to her soul. She entered into its spirit as typical of
the rest of heaven, wl.ich consists not in freedom from active
service, but in freedom from all hindrance to that service.
She writes from Bandara on the Sabbath day, iCth April:

i>ei noi I V/-L vj-3a.>-/i«j-i.o-jcj

Ma rga n t Wilson.

153

ing ot natural
.hrone of our
ibjects of our
ty's wing, and
s are but faint
precious boy
ive have done
he is on the
: land."

tie mcsscnj^er
t understand,
present. His
in Hindustani
angers." She
e til at it may
e itself, when
is which unite

meruit from ill

nt to instruct
t a large con-
rrayed before
nortal beings,
rgetful of lan-
I have been
people about
1, though she

lally how she
)ecial spiritual
as typical of
1 from active
that service.
1 6th April ;

'• How n'lUch reason have I to extol the goodness of my hea-
venly Father in i^crmitting me to view the light: o( this holy
sal)bath, and granting mo the cessation from pain which I now
enjoy. My spared life is the Lord's."

Then, Avith heart attuned to praise, she offers thanks for her
salvation and for access into the holy of holies, and dwells
uj)on the glorious work of redemption which the sabbath com-
memorates. Her vivid imagination carries her back to the
epoch of creation, when, the work being finished, the morning
stars sang for joy ; and then, after speaking of the announcement
of the sabbath from Sinai, she passes on to the sabbaihs which
'•ins])ired the harp of David and gladdened the hearts of holy
prophets," and which she describes as memorials of God's faith-
fulness throughout all generations. Again she comes back to
the Christian sabbath as she views it under the gospel dispen-
sation, throwing off its now needless encumbrances, asserting its
Divine authority, and showing forth the glories of that new
creation which shall survive the wreck of the former, and which
is celebrated in the prophetic song, " Behold I create new
heavens and a new earth : and the former shall not be remem-
bered nor come into mind." Her husband says truly :

"With her each day was holy ; but thac morn
On which tlie angel said, • Sec where the Lord
Was \di!\A,'' joyous arose."

The following extracts arc from a letter to her sister and
brother, dated July, 1833 :

" The parcel containing such precious memorials of our dear
(Icitarted sisters reached us safely. Oh, with what agonized
but 1 trust subdued feelings of sorrow did we look upon all that
now remained to us of those beloved ones ! Every day I look
at the affecting memorials, and my heart seems to cling to them
with fonder and more tender emotions, as if some hidden re-
membrances were w^apt up in them. . . What shall I say of
my beloved Mary's letter ? Oh, I can never, never express the
joy which it excited in my mind, or the lessons which it taught
me ! It was as a voice from heaven speaking to us of a

154

Consecrated Women.

"^^O Ml,

Saviour's love. . . Many in this land have been warmed
and animated by the perusal of it, . . . Thank our dear
friends for the very acceptable donation of clothes for the
ori)han school. The little girls are very much pleased with
their Euro])ean petticoats and send l/a/iu/ saAia/n (many comi)li-
ments) to the ladies. Tiie girls delight to read of the love of
Christ ; but tliey have learnt the ways of their fathers, and their
hearts go after vanities. The depravity and deceit of these
little creatures would astonish you."

In another letter, after mentioning that they have heard of
tlie arrival of the Lady Raffles in England, she begs her
sisters to give her truly their impressions of Andrew, esi)ecially
not to keep from them any of his faults, that they may have
the privilege of praying minutely for the supply of his spiritual
needs.

In another letter she asks : '* What is our little Andrew
doing? Has he forgot his Hindustani and begun to speak
English? Ask him if he remembers the large house in
Bombay which used to be crowded with natives coming to
see pa[)a. Perhaps he remembers the comjjound with the
cocoa-nut and tadi trees which the natives used to climb
all day long like monkeys, or the beautiful flowers and
scarlet blossoms which he pulled every morning for dear
mamma when she was sick. He was very fond of the little
black girls, who came every morning to read their lessons to
mamma and to hear of a Saviour's love to a guilty world. I
hope he still loves these little children, and prays that God
may give tlicm a new heart. . . Oh, tell him much about
the love of Jesus. Speak to him often of the heathen ; for it
is our earnest prayer that, if the Lord spare his life, He may
put it into his heart to preach among the natives of India the
unscarciiable riches of Christ."

In this year (1833) another baby came to take the place of
little Kenneth in his mother's loving arms. The following lines
aie a(aur!.,-33cu 0} aei lu '.\\.\.\x: jo-unny Willie oDservui" ins lace
sad when the ayah was singing to him a Hindustani song :

N1 dbl I UJL U3X,jiaxo3a |_j

Margard IVihon.

Thou 'rt as a beam of light,

A rainbow in the storm ;
IJiit quiclvly o'er thy brow so brii;ht

Comes sorrow's darkening form.
Now I shall bid lliy fears away,
And we shall smg a sweeter lay.

We'll sing a song of love Divine

In yonder radiant spheres,
Where endless light and beauty shine

'Midst all their happy years.
Where all is pure and calm and bri;^ht,
Eternity's unclouded light.

Thy brother there doth stand

With angebharp and voice,
Amid the holy, saintly band,

Who in the Lord rejoice.
His joy siiall never pass away,
His crown of gold shall ne'er decay.

And thou art loved in heaven

15y all the blissful choirs ;
While spirits bright come down at even

With their celestial lyres.
To hover o'er thy infant head,
And keep their watch around thy bed.

Sleep on thy mother's breast,

Thy dreams shall be of joy,
In some far distant realms of rest,

Wlicrc pains do not annoy ;
Then let me bid thy fears away,
And let me sing a sweeter lay.

Ill December the native servant, who had gone with Andrew
to Scotland, returned. Margr.et Wilson iiad just finished tea,
and was sitting musing over memories of her dear ones in
Scotland, and " calling to mind a thousand tender and endear-
ing recollections "' of Andrew's infancy and the " brief period
of cliildhood " spent with his parents, when Joao suddenly
appeared. His eloquent accounts of the different members of
the family circle in Edinburgh, his anecdotes of Andrew's say-

-^10

1^6

Consecrated Women,

ings and doin-s on shipboard, and his description of the meet-
ing l^etween the little boy ai)d those who received him with
such tender love and welco'ne, were so interesting thai the
hour of m;(.Mii^ht arrived before he had finished his history.
The heari of the mother overOowed with gratitude to her hea-
venly Father for the good tidings of her child, and she wri;es
to the home circle in Scotland :

'' I am indeed overwhelmed i with the thought of yoi r kind-
ness to him. The Lord has given him to you. and ll,- wilj
reward you out of the treasury of heavenly bles.ings.
I fear my sister's pen was dipped in romance when she drew
the picture of him, or, at all events, that like an artist who is
as much bent on making a btauiifiil picture as in givin- a
striking likeness, she threw a shade over the defl>- lencies, Tnd
mad'.- the beauties stand out in prominent li-ht. Our great
desire is that lie may indeed be, as you say, one of dc lambs
of the Rcdeeuvr's flock."

Dr. Wilson con.iniK'>d to be much away, and his journal
was constantly call.^nr fonh his wife's doei)est intere.'^t and her
heartfelt prayers. She had tiuis a double labour for her Lord,
the mission work at liome and her participation in his travail
for souls abroad.

Towards the end ot 1833 ]\Lirgaret Wilson entered, more
fully than siie had done before, into the work of translation
andalearnea pundit was retained for the purpose of assisting
her in her translations and compositions. She first prepared
m Marathi an abridgment of i large part of Rollin's " Ancient
History," for the use of her schools and native youth in general
This she completed as far as related to the Egvptians, Baby-
lonians, Assyrians, IMedes and Persians, and Athenians. Her
husband says she " could not have directed her attention to
any parts of profane history more calculated to interest, to ex-
pand, and to correct the native mind than those selected"
She also translated an account of the fulfilment of pro-
phecy, taken principally from the work by Dr. Keith, simpli-
fied as far as possible to suit the native reader. Another

Nl dbll UL

sXOiaxo:3a

^;^;

ATargarct Wilson.

157

in'' thai the

f ine ]anii.v3

work she had before her was that of preparing a scries of
simple devotional exercises for the natives. She had also a
.urcat desire to write a review of the history of the church,
with a particular narrative of the " labours and sufferin-s of its
most distinguished members in the profession and propagation
of the truth." She adopted the form of letters addressed to the
vJiiMrcn of the mission, and wrote out introductory portions.

iter pujjils had made such i)rogress that they were able
••'0 follow instructions on such topics," A long and very
alile review of Stebbing's -'Christian Church," which she wrote
a!mut the same time, proved how qualified she was to prejiare
the work in question. This paper appeared in three successive
numbers of the Oriental Christian Spectator, and was copied
into a native newsjiaper in Bengal. In 1834 she writes to a
friend, from the Malabar hills, whither she had gone after the
iiirth of her youngest child :

''May 20///. — Our little girl is a very strong healthy child.
. . . She is to be called Mary Isabella, a name dear to
our hearts from the recollections with which it stands associ-
atcd. May it be indeed written in heaven ; and may she
resemble my angelic sisters in her love to the Saviour. A[y
schools are in a promising state at present, but when I think
ho-v often my plans and expectations have been frustrated I
rejoice widi trembling."

Margaret Wilson conscientiously describes the disappoint-
ments in connection with her work, alongside of the en-
couragements. Her narrations have therefore a value exceed-
mg that of the glowing pictures which are sometimes given
without the reverse side. She thus continues :

" Many of the old girls have returned to the mission schools,
and they retain a tolerable remembrance of the knowledge
which they had acquired, notwithstanding the dissipation con-
nected with the celebration of their nuptials. I have five
native girls living in our own house. . , . They all seem
to be very happy, and call me mother. They occupy much
of my time, for their former habits were so depraved that they

I5S

Consecrated Women.

require very strict discipline. I feel as if they were my own
children, but like a weak and impatient mother my spirit
sometimes becomes irritable, and my strength sinks under the
burden. Besides these, I have taken charge for the i)resent
of two girls, whose parents were Europeans. . . . They
had never been taught to read before they came to me, and
could not tell me who made them. The little girls told them
in Hindustani what they had been taught in Marathi, and
it was quite moving to mark the interest with which they
listened to them. 'I'hcy are lovely, affectionate girls, and very
anxious to learn, but their minds are in greater darkness than
any heathen children I have ever seen, and they have been
accustomed to swear in imitation of their father. One of them
is reading the New Testament already."

Margaret Wilson suffered much at this time from debility,
but she worked on as much as possible till illness overpowered
her. Writing to a friend in Scotland she deplores the little
she has done to spread abroad the knowledge of her Re-
deemer's name. She refers to the thousands of children to
whom they have emleavoured to convey a knowledge of the
gospel, with apj^arently little result. Then looking away from
the failures incident to our finite state she turns to the sure
promises of God, and exclaims : " Oh for faith in the whole
testimony of God. It is not a part only which we are to
believe ; but it is every word which has proceeded out of His
mouth. The Avork of conversion has begun through the
preaching of the everlasting gospel ; but it is as yet only like
the first droi)i)ings of the rain. We are waiting in \ ;pe of die
glorious day which will soon dawn upon us, and of the rich
and plentiful showers which will descend to water the earth."
Her message to her friends in Scotland is one that might well
go forth from many foreign mission fields to the dwellers in
Christian lands : " Tell all around you that, while they are
watering their own vineyards, they should remember the dry
and parched places of the wilderness, and endeavour to assist
us with their prayers and wrestlings on our behalf."

INI nai I KJX. uuxw'iaj.oatj

I^rargarct Wilson.

159

Writing to Andrew she calls the attention of her little boy to
tb- hlsturies of Samuel, Jeremiah, Daniel, and Timotliy, who
early loved the Lord and grew up to be His faithful ministers.
Especially she reminds him that Samuel was, as a little child,
separated from his parents, and that he was obedient to (jod,
taking delight in religion, and was not led astray by Eli's
wicked sons ; and she begs Andrew to try and imitate this holy
boy. To her sister Hay, after acknowledging her "many
delightful letters," she says :

" You would be quite amused could you hear me translating
them into Marathi or Hindustani to some of our native visitors
or to my learned pundit. The pundit is astonished that you
can write, and write so elocpicntly, being a 5//7 (the Marathi
word for woman). ... I often think how powerfully and
afreclionatcly you would address him; and sometimes a ray
of hoi)e comes across my mind that you and my beloved Anna
may yet be the endeared companions of our labours."

This thought was now constantly in Margaret Wilson's
mind, and her prayers were fervent that her sisters might
have special Divine direction in this matter. Speaking of iier
health she says that she is able to endure as much mental and
bodily fatigue as when in Scotland, but that the climate is
telling upon her. She expresses the hope that change of
air and complete rest may enable her to put off, for two or
three years, the visit to her native land which the doctors had
suggested as likely to restore her health and prolong her life.

To another sister she writes, in November 1S34 :

" We can never express the deep gratitude which we feel,
my dearly beloved sisters, for your great kindness to our dear
boy. You were unspeakably dear before, but our hearts arc
now drawn to you by the twofold cord of love and gratitude.
... I care little about talents, unless they are cultivated
aright and given to the Lord. If they were laid on the altar
of the world I would deem it as a prostitution, thouo-h fame
heralded his name through the earth, and th 3ugh a thousand
wreaths encircled his brow. We have given him in covenant

»4i

•J

i6o

Consecrated J I \vucn.

1
-*'»

^ ". )

to God ; and I trust that lie who hath demanded the olTcnng
will accept and ratify it, and make him His own."

During this autumn the length and number of the letters to
her beloved ones in Scotland arc remarkable, considering tlie
enfeebled state of her health and her manifold occupations
In one letter she gives a n^': ':i . account of her employments.
She does this tu stimula* , ■\s\.. t . to send them more details
out of their own liv. ... ! uu loilowing is an outline of her
occupations during one day.

According to her usual practice, Margaret ^'. ilson spends
an early hour in j>rayer and devotional reading of the Scrip-
tures; then she devotes herself to ' ... ,aes ; then two
hours are passed by her in study, and two more hours in
writmg for the press. Three hours are taken up in the scIk.oIs,
and afteruMi Js she rides three miles to visit one of the Portu-
guese schoijls of the mission, and she also calls upon several
families of English who sorely need the help of her influence
and wis- counsels. She returns to the pleasures and interest,s
of her own family, and the ev ^ning hwurs are spent in writing
this letter, and in a time of communion before retirinc^ to rest"!
It is a very long letter Ur. Wilson tells us. In it she reviews
God's dealings with her, touching on tlie various trials which
have come upon her thDughout her life. She speaks of tl^csc
events with profound gratitude to God, and with perfect trust
in the wisdom that dispensed the sorrows to her. Her hus-
band tells us that this was no exceptional day, but that daily,
for years, with little intrruption she performed sinu.ar duties,
to the great surprise of their visitors. He adds : " the solution
of the mystery, however, is to be found in the unconqueral;!j
energy imparted by th.- Hivin Spirit, -lided 1 the habitual
contemplation of Hiiu who is fairer than the children of men
and altogether glorious, and exercised in deep felt compassion
towards the souls ol the [iieathen] arounc. '

Dr. Wilson started on his tour on the i6th of December,
and ills wife aeeomitanied him to Surat, a distance of one
hundred and seventy miles. The -ah,' eachers and qirls,

Mif

Nl -ibi I UJ- U3Xw»ia^o3cj

Alixrgarct

IVilson,

i6i

')eIovrd friends.
1 1-' tlicni was

' romlcd round, Limcming the departure of ll,

M.nslcd with Margaret Wilson's regret at . .,,,.-. ,„,,„ „.a.

'!« preva,hng feeling that she had done so Imle For in, h

.th lieu Lord, they rolizc the most fully that they are

unproi.table servants " We nn.st on,it her imeresting notic s

"' >l.ar journey, and also of her stay at Sur.r, where she

'-.au,ed w,th Johnny, her husband pJocecdin^ ™ h s long

.>an c st,e tour. As usual, his journal, con.aimng a d tailed

T M l''\ r^'"'' ""^ » S'™' '''•'"Sht to her. The

^...le Mary Isabella was left under the eare of a beK,ved friend

Marg ret \ tlson returned home after two months' rest "«:

r..ren. y ,,uue well. They arrived late in the evening ; jlnn"^

.no every room to search for his father, and no inding

I 'P-igaia! ah, papagaia !"

\r!'/^' .'°°" "' ■■ "'"^''"■'^d light on the horizon," writes
M .garei n;!son to her husband, "I got „p and nrei^ared for
So.ng to Mrs, Hunt's. My little darlfng nfe. me at S do r
^ he has grown very much, and I never saw a child so full of
hu.. She sprang into my arms and began to laugh, but I do
"ot thmk she remembered me at first, for, on going upstai^
1. began to cry ,o ^e. to Mrs. Hunt. When she awoket^,'
q. he remembrance of her own mamma seemed to have

u=e'lo any o' ' '^ '° *"' ""'' ^"'«'"' ""'^ '^°"''' "<" SO fron,

s, i°nL of%' T'' °' u ""*' '" ■" '"'" '0 ^'' '"'^band she

.0 other, t'"*"' '"^"'""' ■=' '^' '' "'"'^ '° »•'■»'='« comfort
to c hers She wntes : "I had no sooner got up in the mort^.

hani .vas told that Mukandahad lost his seiond younges,
w4d ""''"i- • • • I -en, to the house 'as soon

; ^om.tu.ie,anakuu,em with the M.,rathi Bible in the>r
">. After describing the fuiieial she idds: "It is sweet

ii^

.-3

l62

Consecrated Women,

'•*■'•

lo think of a little Hindu cliilil laid in a Christian burying
ground; but it is iniinitcly more enrapturing to think of her
being united to the redeemed family in ascribing honour and
glory and power to Ilim who sits upon the throne, and to the
Lamb for ever and ever."

To her sister in law, Miss I. Wilson, she writes, 19th of
March, 1835 :

" We think much of you all, my dear, and es[)ecially of our
aged parents. They seem to have advanced farther than we
on the road. But, ah, \vc cannot tell, for to some it is short.
. . .^ But, if we live to God and so fulfil the end of our
being, it matters little whether we fall prematurely into the
hands of deaUi, or sink slowly and gradually under the burden
of years. I t pect Mr. W. home in ten days. If it be the
will of God to si)arc us, our joy will be great on again
meeting. . . . Johnny was very ill a few days ago, and
for one day I despaired of his recovery; but our heavenly
Father was pleased to hear our cry and to restore him. He
is sitting on my knee, when I write this, very feeble and ema-
ciated."

Dr. Wilson returned on the day after the foregoing letter was
written. The shadow of the cloud was already resting upon his
Indian home ; but she who had brightened that home for six
years was unchilled by its approach. And in the days that
remained the beloved wife and mother reflected something of
the brightness of that unclouded glory into which she was
hastening. Her husband thus describes their meeting :

" My dear partner welcomed me with her usual affection,
and united with me in most fervently praising our heavenly
Father for the great goodness which He had made to pass before
me ir, my long journey . . . while we supplicated Him to
turn to Himself the hearts of the multitudes whom I had ad-
dressed, and into whose hands I had put the words of eternal
life. Little did I think, when engaged in these hallowed exer-
cises, weak though slie appeared to be, that she was within one
short month to be removed from the conflicts and services

IMI nOI I KJS. VJI]J.s./l(JIJ.O-l«-l

Mai-^arct M'ilson,

163

..f the church militant on earth to the joys and bliss of the

■l.ur.:. trmmphant in heaven. I could no, however «

.....rk iter preparafon for the great change which was spcclily

.||.l.road,n,g. Her spiritual fervour, her gratitude fir e

•orJs mcrete., her aspiration, after perf.rt purity of soul, her

n,,ty and, „eek resignation .0 the Divini w.lll, par.icu a ;
alk'i tc(i me. ^

riac.n,M-n his arms their little Johnny, she said: "Umvc
nm a second tmje to you from the Lord, and oh let ns both

Vl^^Trt"^' souls, in praising Him .ho has
^deemed h. hfe from destruction and crowned us with lovinK-
..|< ness and tender mercy ! Let us ren.ember also that L
f\ JHm /// the Lord, he is not ours but Ilis. How near the
-rd vas to me, when I thought He was about to take him to
iiis presence, I cannot tell."
Her husband mentions that the sense of the Divine love
' ' li -she felt m that hour "appeared never afterwards to be
""I'^ured Grace, mercy, and peace were multiplied to her
Toin Cod the Father and the Lord Jesus Christ"

■-•r. A\ ilson tried to prevent her from over exerting herself

and detcrnuned if she did not improve, to make arran„

or her leavmg the country by the first opportunity. But it was

nc wnl of God that where she had worked the'e she should

...t from her labours, and it was at her ov, n earnest desire that

^hc accomplished several duties which pressed upon her. She

expressed the strongest wish to remain with her husband in

nda. She had long looked forward," she said, "to her

vuu. bhe addressed the children of her schools as if it were

>r the last tune. On the 29th of March she taught her Sab-

L h class, spent an hour m catechizing the girls of her native

I ools, and went twice to church. She begged to attend again

l".T7i I'T^' " ""' ''' '"^ ^"^'^ "^°^^ ^^ '^ '^^ house
of (,od,. and I shall not again in.ist on attendmg it when 1

appear weak." It was the last time that outwardly 3he united
in public worship. Frequently during the following ^veek the

«•

t'l

I04

Consecrated Wonicn.

'■a

invalid was able to go for an airing in a carriage, and then she
took to her couch twelve days before her departure. She gave
minute directions concerning the publication of her Marathi
translations and composition^, and the disposal of her female
schools. To all the children in her schools, she requested
her dying testimony to be conveyed, as to the " power and
glory of the gospel " which she had taught them. I'o some of
tiicm, in whom she was hopeful a work of grace had begun, she
left special messages. Also to the converts of the mission
she sent " faithful and affectionate counsel." To her husband
she said : " Go on your way rejoicing, and take care that no
evil be mixed up with the Lord's work. . . . Often, often
have I i)rayed for you, that you may be supported in your
solitude, and tliat this aflliction n,ay be blessed to the church."
" Against all selfishness in any of the agents engaged in the
holy work of propagating the gospel in India," she entered her
solemn protest.

The Ijible was a " source of delight and joy " during her last
days. "Read to me," she would say, "the forty-third chapter
of Isaiah ; I like to hear the promise, ' When thou passest
through the waters they shall not overflow thee,' etc." The
l4)istle to the Ephesians she pored over, praising God for the
grace which she had experienced, and which she viewed as
" similar to that received by those to whom the epistle was
addressed." On her husband repealing the twenty-third psalm
she said, " Now I can from the heart adopt every word of that
])salm." Tart of the metrical version of it was the " last por-
tion of Divine truth" which he heard from her lips. I5eing
very deaf during her illness she spoke in a louder tone than
usual, and this enabled her husband to hear her wonderful
words of prayer and meditation, and he says that the " charm
of them would not cease to sound in his ears." The burden
of her requests was the ''perfecting of her sanctification, sup-
port in the hour of death, an improvement of her affliction
by all who might witness it, and the communication of the
Divine blessing to all in whom she was interested." Her

INI ^v^l I e^O. VJJ-L^IVJ.A. kj -JVJ

Margaret Wilson.

16:;

and then she
re. She gave
her Marathi
)f her female
ihc requested
: " power and
To some of
ad begun, she
f the mission
3 her husband
J care that no
Ofien, often
orted in your
the church."
ngaged in the
ic entered her

during lier last
•-third chapter

thou passest
■e,' etc." The
ig God for the
she viewed as
lie epistle was
ity-third psalm
y word of that
the " last por-
r lips. Being
ler tone than
her wonderful
It the " charai

The burden
tification, sup-

her affliction
ication of the
rested." Her

prayers for her children were " frequent

; dedicated them to
ip without a murniii

description." Ha\
c ther

and fervent beyond
God from their birth.

'-.ic now gr

t!ic dear baDes," slic said, "they do not pull me back to this
world. Oh no ! the sight of them only quickens my prayers
on their behalf. I have devoted them to God, and I know
that He will care for them." To her husband she said, " How
happy am I to have them to leave with you ! " To Andrew
she dictated a letter from which the following is extracted :
"This is the last letter that your dearest mamma will ever
write to you. In a few hours I hope to be with Jesus, and
witii all the glorious company of the redeemed. I am trans-
ported at the prospect of what awaits me. I have often com-
mitied you to Jesus, and I do so now in more solemn circum-
stances than ever." After reiterating her desire for him to
become a missionary, she adds : "What I say to you, I say to
my beloved Johnny. Tell your affectionate uncles and aunts
Ih)\v much mamma loved them. . . . Never cease to
clicrish toward them the tenderest affection. If your aunts
nr, ompany your beloved uncle to Canada, I wish .\rary Isa-
bella' to be placed under their charge; and oh let them feel
t'aoir deep responsibility in having her a young immortal to
train for heaven. I commit you to God. Your own devoted
mother, Margaret Wilson,"

When she had signed it she laid down the pen and exclaimed.
"Xowlam ready to die." Her husband writes; "Tome,'
with all that tenderness and generosity for which slie was dis^
tini;uished, she said, ' I wish to die soon because I see that
this watching over me is injuring your bodily health, and may
prevent you from engaging in the Lord's work.' " It was her
wish to die praising the Lord. On one occasion she said, " I
am afraid of speaking nonsense when th(; noise comes in my
She felt quite resigned when he repeated to her the

cars

hne

' Mary Isabella died shortly after her mother.

1 66

Consecrated Women.

."JSSlti

•till

'* To human weakness not severe
Is our High Priest above."

" I am happy/' she said ; "all the glory is taken away from me,
a poor erring creature."

Her husband writes : " On another occasion I heard her
exclaim, * I cannot look steadily ! ' Thinking that she was
complaining of her want of faith, I observed to her, ' Christ,
though He may try you, my love, will never suffer your faith to
fail.' * You mistake me,' was her reply, ' it is the glory spark-
ling behind the cloud which overpowers me. But soon shall
it all burst forth upon my soul, and I shall be enabled to bear
it and to drink up its beams."

During the last days she was often rather delirious, and some-
times fancied that she was surrounded by dear absent friends
whom she addressed with tenderness. *' By turns in the lan-
guages of India and Europe she would converse on the Divine
faithfulness and grace." In Marathi she spoke as to the
children of her schools ; and her last words in that language
were: ''Antandi, Ycshu Christavar phor priti iha'a," "O Amandi,
I beseech you greatly to love Jesus Christ." These were fitting
words in which to close a ministry which had had but one
aim, that of presenting before sinners the gospel of our Lord
and Saviour Jesus Christ. Of the last solemn hours Dr. Wilson
writes : " As the day proceeded, I perceived that the happy
spirit would soon put off its earthly tabernacle, that it miglil
be clothed upon with its house which is from heaven. It did
not need a human ministration to its comfort, its peace, or its
joys ; for the communications of the Divine grace to it were
very abundant."

As the evening drew on ho gave her one more sweet assur-
ance, " The Lord Jesus is with thee." She responded, " t\v\
with thee, my beloved one." She recognised him several timea
during the night, but could not converse. At eight o'clock on
the .«abbath morning, April 19th, 1835, the home cali came,
and Margaret Wilson entered into the fulness of joy, havin--^ had
the foretaste here.

O ! I KJ JL. \J _1 J» w* I «~ia.. .-f -i u,f

Imw

Margaret Wils.vt.

167

away from me,

I I heard her
that she was

her, ' Christ,
:r your faith to
le glory spark-
But soon shall
nabled to bear

ous, and some-
absent friends
ns in the lan-
on the Divine
)ke as to the
that language
.""OAmandi,
:se were fitting
had but one
.'I of our Lord
Lirs Dr. Wilson
lat the happy
, that it might
aven. It did
s peace, or its
■ace to it were

; sweet assur-
onded, " An^

1 several times
jht o'clock on
le call came,

On the same day about forty of her scholars, followed by all
ilie converts and schoolmasters attached to the mission, were
admitted to see the remains of theit beloved friend.

The bereaved husband thus pictures the affecting scene :
" On their entrance all was silence. They no sooner looked
liowever upon the countenance of their great benefactress, than
ihcy simultaneously burst into a flood of tears, which was quite
overpowering. All attempts to moderate their grief were un-
availing, and it was with reluctance that they departed. Here
was sorrow unfeigned, with an homage to Christian worth such
as the death of their own dearest relations would assuredly
have failed to call forth. It proved a sorrow too, which was
p.ot evanescent." At one of the services on that Sabbath day
Mr. Stevenson addressed the congregation of the Scotch
(Jhurch, many of the members of which were most deeply
fv;eling their heavy loss. " All who knew the deceased," he
said, '' would have permitted the application to her of my text,
' God's grace which was bestowed on me was not in vain ; but
I laboured more abundantly than they all ' ; and if now per-
iiiiued to address them, she would add, 'yet not I, but tlie
grace of God which was with me.' "

^Ve learn, (from the recent memoir ol her husband,) that
aftei Margaret Wilson's death her siiiters Anna and Ilay
Dayne went to India and entered into her labours. They went
out at Dr. Wilson's urgent request, and proved most valuable
helpers in the mission until Anna's triumphant death in 1841.
Hay worked on a few years longer as the wife of the mission-
ary Robert Nesbit. In 1848 she too received her summons
to leave the service of the church on earth and enter upon
the continuous service of the heavenly temple.

All three sisters, and Dr. Wilson himself, were called away
in the midst of their active laboui-s. Their ashes rest in
Indian graves, waiting ** until the daybreak and the shadows
n^c away "

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»««fcfi'

FERVEiYT IN SPIRIT, SERVING THE LORD:'

MATILDA, COUNTESS VON DER RECKF.
VOLMERSTEIN.

Oh that I were an Orange- tree,

That Intsie plant !
Then should I arr laden be,

And na'er want
Some f I nit for Him that dressed me.

George HF.RCE.rr.

m'90
mWtM

' •»•'(;■'

The I.fcofa holy Christian should be one perpetual sacrament
Lvery nnoment of h,s daily life may unite him by faith .id. Chri i
so that h>s cloth.ng, food, home, friends, work and leisure, may .1)

tTin". no" T',?" ''' "'''''"' '-^"^ ^'-'"S into his storehouse
hmgs neu- and old to enrich the mind of the spirit from without
y thus rccc.vmg c„Hst in His providences and His creation by
H.s outward no less than by His inward teachin<^s, we shall' be
fash.oned after H.s likeness, and grow to manhood in His ki„^'
dom."-Mana Hare, from ^^ Mcnwrials of a Qnut fj/.-' jly
Aiii^ustus J. C. Hare. ^ ^ ^

1^1 -lOI I

lal sacrament,
th *.\ ith Christ
isure, may al).
lis storehouse

from without
is creation, by
s, we shall be

in His king-
t Lifer JJv

VI.

MATILDA, COUNTESS VON DER RECKE
VOLMERSTEIN.i

Born i8oi. Died 1867.

Prov. xxxi. 27-30.

IN my childhood a favourite book was " The Little Dove,"
It is a true story of a German count. One day, when a
little boy, he saw a young dove drowning in the middle of a
deep pond. He did not stop to think of danger to himself,
he only thought, " that poor dove will be drowned if / do not
save it." He found near the pond a washing tub, and gettini;
into it, with a stick for an oar, paddled out to the frightened
I'ird. He took it up tenderly, wiped its wet feathers, and,
unfastening his waistcoat, pl-ced it in his bosom. When
safely on shore, the rescued u-, w f' ared the breakfast of bread
and milk wliich he had left upo.. the garden scat. From her
castle windows his mother watched her boy's perilous voyage
with tears of mingled joy and alarm, and Jier prayer w.s that
^vhcn her Adeiberdt should become a mar i.' might be as
kind to his fellow men as he then was to anm.iK: for it was
not only dovcb that he befriended.

That prayer was answered. When grown to manhood,
Adelberdt's heart went out towards the little ragged children
made orphans by Napoleon's wars. Though a count he was

ma
J

- I.x:r.-ictca r.y pennibsion from the Tract Afaoazine, Fcbraary ig^c
Religious Tract Society. '^'

3:1

■

172

Consecrated Woiucn,

had

poor, his fatlicr having had severe losses from wliich lie dni

not recover for many years; but he established a Home for

these poor children, assured that God would help him with the

means wherewith to carry it on. And God did help him, and

when the purse or Hour-bin was empty, always supplied the

want, often sending the exact sum required, or food just suited

to the needs of the large family. It was in 1S19 that Count

von dcr Reckc \'olmerstein opened his Home with three

orphans. At the end of the year he had forty-four children

to take care of, and the numbers rapi.lly increased ; so that,

between that time and the present, thousands of destitute

children have been helped and sheltered in the Institution.

For twenty-eight years the Count presided over it himself; but

in 1S47, ^vorn out by hard work, he retired to a quieter home,

where he still lives, an old man of more than eighty years,'

surrounded by chiklren and grandchildren. Ihit even then he

could not be idle, and for many years he has had, close to his

own door, on his estate of Craschnitz a happy Home for poor

imbecile children, whom the aged Count still watches with

tender interest.^

_ ^Vhile Count Adelberdt was devoting himself to the care of
his largo family he fult that he had no time to think of getting
married. He thought too that a wife who was not entirely
consecrated would only hinder his work ; and that work which
he was doing for God was dearer to him than any earthly
hai)i)iness. God had, however. His own thoughts for His ser-
vant. He knows that a true, good woman, one "who feareth
the Lord," and who also " looketh well to the ways of her
liousehold," is a help and blessing to her husband. And
so, in a far-off home, led by God's hand, and tauqht by His
Spirit, a young girl was being trained to become, at\he age of
twenty-five, the mother of this great Home.

Matilda, Countess von Pfeil, now comes before us ; slie was

J The Count lia. biuce ilicd. Pie departed this life on the icth of
November, 1878.

of noble birth, and
education, to shine
sands would not s
At the age of tw(
fifteen she thus dec
to Thee, Triune Go
partaker of Thy gr
good resolutions wl
nise 'i'iiy grace, that
that is earthly to '
Saviour may one d:
enter thou into the j
These were no nu
wrote : " Living to
indifference to the
which, indeed, cannc
Oh, if I could only
he quite hapi)y."

At this time she w

with her brothers a

o'A-n profit, helping ir

her poorer neighbou

MLk and afflicted. 1

was preparing. Mai

Count von der Pvccl

first time. The Coui

looked up to him witi

tar more experiencei.

init he dared not thii:

-.inciion, and then ca

n.aht wife for me?"

<;od's will touching ti

ai-customcd to so m;

iiard life he had chost

fi;ni that his adopted

and that Matilda co

Matilda von dcr Rcckc.
of no])lo birth, and fitted, both by her natural

C'l

jurat

I'^n, to shine in soci

powers and by
ety; but if this had been all, thou-
san<is would not still bless her memory, as is the case now.
At tlie a-e of twelve Matilda sought her Saviour. Wlicn
tittctn she thus dedicates herself to God in writing : " I vow
to Tlice, '1 Viune God, to give up t- erything, that I may be a
partaker of Thy grace. . . . Only strengthen me in all
good resolutions which I make now, and always let me recog-
nise 'I'ny grace, that I may turn away more ami more from all
that IS earthly to Thee alone; that to me, too, Christ my
Saviour may one day say, ' Come thou blessed of My Father,
Luter thou into the joy of thy Lord.' "

Tiiese were no mere words. At the age of twenty-three she
wrote: "Living to God gives me peace in my soul, and an
UKhttcrence to the outward unpleasantnesses of the present ;
which, indeed, cannot be made better by comi)laining of them'
I'll, if I could only share this peace with everybody I should
be quite happy."

At this time she was very busy, sharing some of their studies
with her brothers and sisters, reading religious books for her
own profit, helping in the kitchen, and doing all she could for
lier poorer neighbours, teaching the children, and visiting the
Mck and afllicted. Little did she foresee the life for which she
was preparing. ALatilda read with interest the accounts of
Count von der Rccke's Home, and in 1S25 they met for the
first time. The Count felt a great interest about her, and she
looked up to him with reverence and trust, as to one who was
tar more experienced and could help her in spiritual thin-s
but he dared not think of marriage till he ha<l received (iod's
sanction, and then came the question, " Is ^Latilda indeed the
right wife for me?" For many months he sought to know
(.od's will touching this matter. He was afraid she had been
■Kxustomed to so many comforts that she would not like tlie
hard life he had chosen. At last, however, it became clear to
i'lu that his adopted children needed a loving mother's care,
and that Matilda could ^ivc that care. ALitilda's mind was

3
^

■iMm

174

Consecrated Women.

already preparer! to accept as her future husband ,,ne wliose
judgment she had learned to lean upon ; but her father decided
that the Count was too poor to marry. Though this disap.
poinMnent was a great trial, she left herself in God's h >nds,
and He at last opened a way fur them to be united.

It was a joyful day when Count Adelhcrdt took home his
bride. Long before they approaclied Dusselthal many pco[>le
came to meet them, so that they " passed through the f^ate
with a great company." The garden in front of the house
was ilhmiinated, and they had quite a festal reception. A kw
days after the Countess Matilda writes : " To set before you.
my dear parents, the duties of all sorts that I have would be
imi)ossible to-day. I will only say in haste that, thank God,
I am getting on very well here ; that I am well, and from five
o'clock in the morning till half-past ten at night I am not frc(
Ifom work. I have to order everything, and make out bills of
fare for four tables, to see after the meals every day, to give
out work and superintend it, to preserve and dry fruit, to visit
the sick, to cut out garments," etc.

Here is a picture of her, later on, from her daughter's pen.
" While a girl watched by the cradle of her sleeping child, the
young mother was \u be seen, soon after five ui the morning,
in the dairy, busily f knaming the cr .am ; then in the store-
room; later in Wk dairy again, washing the butter herself;
then overseeing everything in the great house, giving out work,'
visiting the sick, and later by the child's cradle with the great
account books. At mid-day again in the kitchen ; and I
remember that one day, about ten years later, tired out with
cutting two hundred helpings of meat, she fell down faint by
the kitchen table." To show how she denied herself I will
mention one incident. After her marriage her mother wrote
to ask her and the Count to have their likenesses ^aintcd but
the Countess Matilda replied that they did not feel that it
would be right to spare the money for this object, because all
they had left, after their own simple living had been paid for,
was generally needed for the orphans.

J'tt ^*JH W/^. VJ —1.1. v.^ I «_■.*. KJ_J<-a ■

i one whose
:her decided
I this disap.
od's h;inds,

A home his
lany people
igh the qate
r the house
ion. A few
before you,
^e would be
thank God,
d from five
m not frc
out bills of
3ay, to give
uil, to visit

[hter's pen.
J child, the
e morning,
I the store-
er herself;
; out work,
h the great
n ; and I
id out with
'n faint by
rself I will
»ther wrote
lintcd, but
eel that it
lecause all
1 paid for,

Maiiida vot a^r Kecke,

175

God gave to the Count and Countess ten children of • r
own, and she who was a r^^^d mother to the orphans v, ,
most tender mother to then, All v -k that could be don
t' • midst of her lutle ones was done . their room. She ult
.spent hours there over h. accounts and other writing, the
children playing around her. and she ever ready to give to them
uving words and a helping hand. As they grew older she
found for them tcnrhers, whom she could trust, to give th,-m
«ood teaching and to lead them on in the hcivenly way Ilcr
daughter says of her : " she did not teach by many word.s, but
s.ie did so much the more powerfully and lastingly by her ex-
."iplc. It wu., impossible to see her in her untirin'^ us

silent activity, without learning to help with love and re'

and to emulate her, althoi.Ji we might never attai. her
many-sided efiki.mc y ; for whatever she undertook suc-
ceo<led in amply for the fulfilment of her duty or for the plea-
ire of others ; and everything which came under her observa-
n, which went on in ^ world, or of which she read, awoke
I'-r ively interest." In addition to her other work she took
lier the labour of dispensing medicines to the sick, and
liic i>eople came from miles round to consult her. With a few
;nlen.ssions this busy, happy life went on for twenty years.
lie Countess was the joy of her husband's heart, yet they
seldom met, except at meals, from the early morning tUI late
»n the evening. But he knew that everything under her care
J^as m order and going on well, while he was fully occupied in
h.s own department. Was not this a rest and help to him?

lif 'utk'^u^ ^^''''''' "^"""S the forty years of their married

'^^ he heart of her husband doth safely trust in ' .»r, so that

'le snail have no need of spoil." , i '-^^

After leaving DUsselthal the Countess enjoyed the oppor-

lunity 01 more unintemmf^H nccr,^;oti'on w"- ^- c •• •

fnVn^c c.-ti .t. , • ^ bb.,..aiion W: iicr famuy and

riend , Still the claims of the poor and the sick were never

t e llr-n' ''•. '^^''''•'"^ '' ""'' health was gradual, and

e last illness short. Very tenderly was she watched over

^> her husband aiid children, and the thoughtfulness for all

.i«i

V. -,

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176

Const craled Wo)>ien.

■J

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ail

-Stan-

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around, whicli had characterized her from early life, was con-
tinually api)arent. In few words I will add, in reference to
her spiritual life, that the Saviour whom she trusted for her
salvation in the beginning of her Christian course was her
strength all through the dark as well as the bright days of her
life, and that her love to II im was unwavering to the end.

In 1S67 she died as she had lived, resting on her Lord, "in
quietness and confidence " receiving doubtless the fulfilment
of her desire, uttered fifty-one years before, " That to me too
Christ my Saviour may one day say, * Come, thou blessed of
My Father, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.' "

A feio Extracts from the Diary and Letters of the Countess
Matilda^ taken from her Memoirs}

" 2nd of May, T826. I can never pray for temporal things,
for it always seems like prescribing to God ; and thus I am
much more peaceful and resigned, for I feel much more con-
fidently as if God were leading and guiding me without my
will, according to His pleasure, better than I could even ask.
Therefore, what God has decided concerning me is always
thankfully received."

Some years later the Countess Matilda was led into a differ-
ent experience. Now the Holy Spirit called her to rest in
God's will touching earthly things, without any choice of her
own. In the midst of the pressure of the daily cares of her
after life she was led by the same Spirit to make definite re-
quests to God for temporal things, and as these requests were
made entirely under Mis guidance they were given her. The
promise was thus fulfilled in her experience: "If ye abide in
Me, and My word abide in you, ye shall ask what ye will and
it shall be given you." Only those who keep close to Christ
know what His will permits them to ask for availingly.

' '* Recollections of ihe Life of Countess Matilda von dcr Rccke VoJmer-
stein, by her daughter." Translaica from the German. 15y permission of the

Aullior. beelcy ti Co.

iMi aoi I

life, was con-

1 reference to

ustcd for her

mrse was her

It days of her

the end.

ler Lord, " in

the fulfilment

at to me too

)u blessed of
t

'■ i/ic Cou/i/t'ss

nporal things,
id tluis I am
ch more con-
e without my
uld even ask.
lie is always

1 into a diflfer-
er to rest in
:hoice of her
cares of her
e definite re-
requests were
n her. Tiie
f ye abide in
t ye will and
Dse to Christ
ngly.

Rccke Voimcr'
ermission of the

Matilda von dcv Rcclr.

^77

She writes on the 9th of July, 1826 :

"I sat with the rest at the breakfiist table under the linden
trees, when the postman came, and a sweet foreboding which
did not deceive me drove me towards him. I received a
letter from my dear friend Adelberdt, so heartily beloved in
t!ie Lord.

"Oh, what a letter !— and yet, and yet— is it to become true
wiiat my heart has so long whispered in secret ? I his, even
for this world ! O God, give me strength to bear it worthily.
Make me pure, make me good, cleanse me by Thy Spirit, and
drive out all the old things. Make me quite new, and give me
wisdom to be equal to all that Adelberdt expects of me. .
God stands by me ! He is my help, my consolation ; and oh,
what reward do I not receive even here ! Yes, fulness of
blessedness, if I only remain in Thee. Oh, hold me fast and
make me strong, my God. Amen."

•' 20th of August. At last the sacred solemn day is come
in which the engagement between me and my unspeakably
dear fri nd, and beloved in the Lord, will be publicly
announced from the Lord's table. I began the day with
prayer. May God sanctify and anoint me for the high and
solemn calling, and make me a worthy bride and obedient
handmaid of the Lord, a fiiithful bride of the heavenly ride-
groom, finding in Him her Beloved for time and for eici.iity.
Cleanse aie, O Lord my God, from all sins, make me wholly
new, and my heart a worthy temple to receive Thee most
Holy! Only so can I become a faithful, pious wife, such as
shall make my devotedly loved Adelberdt happy. Plain and
clear stands this high, holy, glorious calling before me; I re-
cognise my happiness ; but, O my Saviour, also my unworthiness
to tread the path if I do not tread it with Thee. Only in the
firmest, closest union with Thee can I become that to which
Thy mercy has called me."

I oth of January, 1828= To her mother ;
'• I laughed heartily at the news that I was so unhappy, for
there is certainly not in the whole earth another wife who is

!m4

*^
mm

178

Consecrated Wovrn,

<^**<ll!!'t

•I',

t k

■'&

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SO happy In every respect as I am. It is said in tlic Holy
Scriptures, • having food and raiment, let us be therewith
content!' 'take no thought for the morrow.' Hitherto we
have had all through God's grace."

2oth October, 1831. To her mother:

" Five years have already passed since our departure from
home, and they have been five happy years. ... As
entirely poor as I am in outward possessions, so rich am I in
true happiness, for our not possessing riciies contributes much
to this. This sounds indeed strange to the world ; but we are
so immediately fed from the Lord's hand. As Elijah received
his bread by ravens, we receive it by the kindness of others
to our poor children, and for us privately Adelberdt's income
suffices. Adelberdt cares for the happiness of others, and so
the Lord will care for our own children. We must not lay up
any treasures."

To the same :

" We are going on well, tliank God, and live our life of fliiih
trustfully and joyfully, and rejoice in the Lord always, and
have every day and hour to praise and thank and glorify the
wonderful ways by which God causes us to go. It is indeed
something truly great to know to whom we may tell every want
and every need ; and if we know that all that we ask in faith
will be granted us, then it is a blessed life. My dea'- mother,
I experience such trials of faith and such answers very fre-
quently in my housekeeping. If I had time still to keep a
journal, there would be many interesting and wonderful
answers to prayer in it. To convince you, I will mention some
examples which I have met wit' *;cly.

" I was wanting meat, and i Adelberdt we must buy a
cow; but we had not a dollar \\ the house. We to!d \.i
Lord that our need wa: known to Him, and He gave us
courage to order one on credit through the bailiff. He came
in the evening and said he had bought one for forty-three
doilars. n e had no money ; then came the postman and
brought a bill for forty-three dollars.

iMi rjoi I \jx. \ji3j.onjj.o~nj

Matilda von dev Rccke.

In the Holy
le therewith
Hitherto we

parture from
. . . As
rich am I in
-ibutes much
; but we are
ijah received
2SS of others
:rdt's income
ihers, and so
ist not lay up

r life of faith
always, and
i glorify the
It is indeed
11 every want
ask in faith
lear mother,
ers very fre-
11 to keep a
d wonderful
lention some

must buy a

^^'e told ,:.j

He gave us

He came

>r forty-three

ostmau and

I 79

"Another day I was wanting salt, having only enough to
last till the next day at noon ; it costs seven and a half dollars
the sack. That forenoon there came by post exactly seven
and a half dollars, which we were able to' give at once to the
miller's man, that he might fetch it in the afternoon in time for
supper,

" Last week I was greatly in want of sand for scouring ; and
about that too I prayed, because I had no means of getting
any. Some hours later came a poor woman carrying a bag of
sand on her head, and begging me, for God's sake, to buy it
that her children might have bread.

" See, my beloved mother, so it goes on from one day to
another. The coldly reasoning man says : ' Yes, it comes about
quite naturally, it just happened so ; the great God does not
occupy Himself with such trifles, etc' Oh, the poor forsaken
hearts, they know not how happy the believing Christian is,
even here below, who lives by faith alone."

At another time, a bill of exchange for, one thousa.xl dollars
having to be paid on a certain day, the Count and Countess
were much in prayer, laying the matter before the Lord in
simple faith. On the day when the money was required, the
secretary, who could not share in their trust in the matter,' was
sent to the post. The '.:..untess writes : « The secretary went
off with the words, 'but if I do not find it, what then?'
' Only go,' was the answer of my husband, and our prayers
accompanied him. When he came back he handed us with
tears in his eyes the empty envelope which had contained the
one thousand dollars, with which he had paid the bill. The
Lord knev/ our need and had i>rovided for it. In Berlin lived
a good, pious baker, who came one evening to a dear friend
of ouro, and asked how he could safely invest one thousand
dollars. The friend named several safe means of disposing of
his capital, but the other shook his head and said, ' No, that is
not what I mean ; I want to know tliat It is used to the honour
of the Lord, and I only wished to ask where this would best
be done!' The friend answered, 'Well, then, give it to

a«

i8o

Consecrated Women,

.^^•••iiif

lf««*.,i

Diisselthal,' and there were the one thousand dollars for which
we trusted, and which arrived here just at the right hour."

She writes in 1841 to the Countess Grocben, after the death
of a lovely little girl :

" My warmest thanks for your lines of yesterday, so dear to
me, so comforting and refreshing. . . . The Lord give me
strength and light to become what you, dear countess, believe
that I already am ; but the death o'" our sweet child has lifted
the thick veil that hid the recesses of my heart from me, and
I sec how uidescribably much is wanting in me that I should
not disgrace the name of the Lord. ... I thought I had
living faith, and that it would be easy to my heart to give up
something for my Lord, however dear what I gave was to me,
for I had often said we should willingly bring to the Lord what
is dearest to us. But it was all empty words ; I did not know
their full significance, and therefore the Lord had to preach to
me powerfully and practically, and to take the sweet child from
me amid such exceedingly painful bitter death struggles, that I
might learn the reality of death and the meaning of the words :
' I have faith, I am a Christian whose faith and love nothing in
the world can darken, whom the Lord counts amongst His
children, and proves it then most clearly when He chastens and
corrects them.' Oh, the inexpressible woe of that night lay dark
and heavy on me, and I neither breathed the air of home nor
experienced the consolation there is when we feel clearly, this
comes from the Lord ! I was dull and dead inwardly and out-
wardly. I had neither faith nor hope, I was quite dead. Not
till the morning, when beside the little angel form I could pour
out my heart before the Lord and devote myself anew to Him,
begging Him to enlighten me by His Holy Spirit, that the dark
night !n my heart might vanish, did I feel better again and
could ask the Lord for forgiveness, and lay hold on the assur-
ance that I am still His child."

To one who had calumniated her husband :

" The deeds which my dear husband has done on earth
will one day bear witness for him before the throne of God,

iMi noi I

Matilda von der Rulce.

i8i

rs for which
hour."
er the death

', so dear to
iOrd give me
tcss, believe
Id has lifted
oni me, and
at I should
)ught I had

to give up
; was to me,
e Lord what
d not know
:o preach to
:t child from
]:gles, that I
f the words :
e nothing in
mongst His
:hastens and
ght lay dark
>f home nor
clearly, this
dly and out-
dead. Not

could pour
lew to Him,
hat the dark
r again and
>n the assur-

le on earth
ne of God,

and I 'now that blessed are they who will one day be permitted
lo share his lot with him : for he has exercised much love, and
the blessing of this love will follow our children and our child-
ren's children to the latest generation. It can be diminished by
nothing, not even by such letters ; for to those who love God
all things work together for good. Therefore we fear nothing,
but even rejoice in anticipating the time when you too shall
join with us in this joyful hallelujah, and your eyes shall be
opened to all the grace and mercy which the Lord has won
for us, and which makes us glad and h3^^y even here below,
though outwardly disgrace and dishonour may assail us!
V,'e know what and in whom we believe. Oh, could you in
truth share with us this peace which neither the world and
Its pleasure, nor gold, nor goods can give, you would not take
it for irony if in spirit I hold out my hand to you and tell
you that, though so troubled, I will yet forget and forgive the
evil that you have done me in my beloved husband."
In a letter she writes :

" \Ve have had a great pleasure the last kw days ; the
celebrated Elizabeth Fry, who since 1819 has accomplished
such an incredible amount of good in the prisons, and who,
properly speaking, gave the first idea for the improvement of
prisoners by instruction and employment, was with us here,
and we twice met with her at Dusseldorf. Her external ap'
pcarance is uncommonly imposing, from her great dignity, with
the expression of the deepest humiHty and the greatest' love
with which she receives everybody, meeting even the worst
criminal with this deep holy love, and expressing the longing
of heart to see him happy now and blessed hereafter. She
was five days at Diisseldorf, and spoke several times to the
prisoners, who listened with great eagerness to her words and
were deeply moved. On Sunday evening we attended a very
large meeting, which, with the help of her dear brother (Joseph

Inlm r^iirnat»\ ori/^ n . . . . - ^

Sue made

a time 01

true blessing. After the brother had read the seventh chapter
of Matthew with much solemnity and impressiveness, a silent

l82

Coiisccraicd Women.

^wpn^j

'«<

pause followed, after which she began to speak, and with great
unction admonished us all to live in accordance wit.i th:
chapter ; no word was without value, and many were deeply
impressed. 'I'hen came another pause; and then her friend,
the venerable Allen, spoke of the happiness of the children )f
God here below, of the importance of asking the Holy Spirit
to guide us into all truth, and said so earnestly, * Be ye re-
conciled to God, and see and taste how good the Lord is I' It
was quite beautiful to hear. After a pause the worthy ^Frs.
Fry again rose, and kneeling down, while all, even the great
and distinguished people present, knelt with her, she prayed
for us all, that we might endeavour to become entirely the
Lord's own. Oh, it was deeply impressive ! and the fruit will
certainly not be wanting. It was a wonderful evening in the
midst of the bustle of the world, and certainly for some pre-
sent the first Sunday evening of the kind."

Writing to her brother on the 1 irth of his first child, she
says :

" Oh, there is something great and holy in such parental joys,
and it is a visible blessing from God that He gives to us the
honour of i)lacing citizens of heaven in the world, whom we
may educate for His kingdom. A solemn sacred task that we
always value too lightly, and carry out with too little faithful-
ness."

After speaking of their own " sweet flock of children," she
says :

" I believe that the Lord will keep the future dark before
us with respect to earthly goods, in order to give us more
proofs of His grace and compassion, reserving to Himself so
to provide for one after another as is most for the good o'
each ; that all may become living members of His body, walk
ing to the honour of the Lord. This is my most sacred, my
only, prayer for them ; I desire nothing else on earth. A
delightful hyinn says so beautifully :

•In Thy book of life, O F\ithcr, write them,

Write each name, though to the world unknown,

Matilda von der Rccke. 183

Ever in Thy holy bond unite them,
Though each one shouKl trca.l a path alone.

They arc Thine ! Rifts of Thy gracious sending,
So once more I give them back to Thee ;

Seal them, Lord, I pray, to life unending,
Let thciu all Thy love unfailing see.' "

J^^l^ ^"""^ '^''"'^' ^" ^"' ^'"'^^^y' J"^^' '^^^'' ^S^-*' ^hc

'• I had the greatest joy this time of seeing nine children
and tu-o ittle grandchildren holding the flou-er garland, who
embraced me with hearty good wishes for happiness and bless-
inK. It was a delightful, happy day, on which I also received
letters from many quarters. I am not worthy of all the com-
passion and grace which the Lord bestows on me. This was
the keynote of my heart the whole day. I could do nothing
but praise and give thanks."

" -^3rd of April, 1865. Birthday of my dear departed
mother^ She now rejoices eternally in glory, and I thank
1 hoc, O Lord, that Thou hast given me the assurance of her
.Icsscdncss, and the beautiful text which was so suddenly
brought into my mind in the night in a wonderful way: 'lie-
hold, for peace I had great bitterness; but Thou hast in love
my soul delivered it from the pit of corruption ; for Thou
hast cast all my sins behind Thy back ' (Isa. xxxviii. 17); and
tlKU this was fulfilled in her case, so that, in dying, she could
exdaun with a radiant face, 'Peace, peace !' while peace was
so ..wcctly shed on the dear features. Praised be God '"

;; 'f;.'^ <^^tober 1866. our wedding day. Forty years now
lie behind us ! A\ ho would ever have expected this ? Gods
..'race and mercy have been great. He has ' .sod us richlv
m every way. Grant us, Lord, the assurance tha= we may one
day say before Thy throne of grace, 'Lord, behold all the
eh.ldren whom Thou hast given us. Through Thy mercy and
tomnassion nnno his boon 1'-*^ q'»---, ' - - ,^ J' '""'-'

• -.- .-s ncen 1-^:,,. 1 iiua nasc oiten, i.ord, civen

nie the hoj^e of this grace ; Lord, mercifully help. Amen "
ist January, 1867 [on the first page of her text book].

i«

184

Consecrated Wometi,

Welcome, dear little text book for the new year of my life
Lord, grant me always to receive Thy word through it, in joy
and sorrow sensibly to feel Thy presence, and to recognise Thy
omnipresence always by Thy dear word given from time to
time. Lord, abide with us. Lord, help us evermore. Lord
hear mc always when I pray according to Thy will. Give us
ihy Holy Spirit. Amen.'

• ^1

M I S^.a. <-l -J..^ V^ 1 » . 1 Ai VJ -J «-i

•*-^ SUCCOURER OF MANY,"*

CHRISTINE ALSOP.

rve found the Pearl of greatest price,

Afy heart doth sing for joy;
. 'ind sing I must, a Christ I have.

Oh what a Christ have It

My Christ He is the Tree of life,

Who in God's garden grows,
Whose fruit doth feed, whose leaves do heal;

My Christ is Sharon's Rose.

John Masox, 1683.

,*^^^

T"^^'

«'»■«»'

4»r, f * •

'•TijE 'hidden manna' is promised to those uho overcome • It is

been enaf r T"'"' """^ °' ^''•^'"^^'^' ^^ — ^^ that ua ng
neanrnf overcome, we shall yet be enabled to ocrcome

agam and a^^am even to the end. It is ' hidden ' because it comes
directly to our souls from Christ, it is like the white s one i h the
new name which 'no man knowcth save he that re dveth t^^

IMI -JOI I

VII.'

CHRISTINE ALSO!'.

Born 1S04. Died 1879.

y llago .,f Congcnifs, Gard. Her family was descended

-n .hose anuent Camisards who ...fl-ered' such lon^ and

s.>cre persecution for their faith. In ,7,3 they received a

;-.r„m members of the Society of Krien^l?, .hoUf^rt so

t ." OS e.n T r"- '°'^'" '■""' "'"■^'' "•'■'' '■^■''' ">^" "--ly -»
M wi M r T'T '" "'"' ""Sl"'™'l>0"J joined then,.

t bm fr. r ""%"'™''"= "°' o"'y of the church „,il,^

la^n, bu al»o by faith of the church triuniiJuint. In humble

c «m,s,..nces, they brought up their eight children, not iH e

rsu, the good things of this life, ,„,t i„ ,he Lr o Jod

"J the love of their neighbour. " Christine," writes one of

- sisters, ",s the child who has best repaid their c re from

or tenderest years she manifested a desire to cm tribute 'toT

1;'™!: t'" '•"'=" r""^' "■••• °"-- chiij; : e^t

■ V" "'° ."I'*''?* J-"" ■"'S'« look in vain amongst them for
le i.,ppyfa,r.haired child. She was probably MpLglZ '
by neighbour to her a much pleasanter ..ay of spending her
;;;; ^hus th,s simple and loving c hild seemed speciaUy

I.i,'elf^™;„4',[*™,i"'°" °f "■' Editor, from n. Fnc.J. a Keli„i„„.,

'n:^::t ""'°'""'- "'J-'"' -•^--. a:rw^";::i;;rs

i88

Consccralcd Womat,

,4*^

marked out by the finger of God as one who should scatter
around her the sunbeams of kindness, loving and beloved
by all.

In 1815 William Allen visited the little company of Friends
at Congcmes, with his only daughter, Mary, then twenty-three
years of age. The lively and affectionate manners of the little
girl gamed the hearts of both father and daughter, and they
obtamcd leave from her parents to take her home with them to
Lngland; for though they were very sorry to part with her they
knew that she would thus have a more careful education, both
literary and religious.

The well known philanthropy of William Allen opened his
home as well as his heart to everything good, so that under his
hospitable roof a choice circle was often gathered, amongst
whom were many foreigners. In this way he entertained
Emihen I-rossard and a young Russian prince sent by the
Kmperor Alexander. In the midst of all this society the young
French girl grew up simple and happy. The numerous relations
and guests who met at William Allen's were united by various
philanthropic and religious interests. The founders of the
mission to Sierra Leone met there, and the eminent men who
were interested in the abolition of slavery. There were others
^vilo were earnest in the cause of education, now just begin-
ning to spread among the lower classes, owing to the efforts of
Joseph Lancaster; and others, again, had had their sympathies
aroused on behalf of the poor weavers of Spitalfields, the
descendants of French Huguenots who had taken refuge in
England on the revocation of the Edict of Nantes. Into aU
these varied interests Christine entered warmly, giving her
sympathy, and often her modest help, to one and another.

But the climate of England affected her health, and necessi-
tated her return to her native village, "where," as her sister
again tells us, "she was an example to all."

Whilst she was in France, Mary Allen was married to Cor
nclius Hanbury, but died only a year afterwards on the birth
of her first-born son, and her wish that he should be entrusted

Christine Alsop.

1S9

to the care of the "good Christine" was the reason for the
icdirn of the latter to England.

The education of this cherished child became from this time
tiie most absorbmg interest of Christine's life. Her power of
symi^athy with the sorrows of others enable.! her to nil the
position of mother and governess with calm cheerfulness and
the elasticity of her French nature helped the faith of the
sorrowing ones, and surrounded the cradle of the little orulnn
with smiles and joy. ^

Years passed happily away; she employed herself busily
■n teaching her pupil mathematics, the living lan^ua-es and
I-un, until the time should come when herlbo^s mu;t be
supi, emented by experienced tutors. But in the midst of this
ochghtful employment her health again failed, and she was
freed to seek as quickly as possible from the southern sun
tiuu health which the foggy atmosphere of London so
rapidly takmg away. ^"

IVom Congenies she went to Nismes, where she had several
tnends ; amongst others Kmilien Frossard, who had become
l|Xstor of this town, and .d married an English wi': V
UKir home she passed the winter, and it was there that she
made the acquaintance of Doctor Plaindoux, who, althou-^h
himself a Roman Catholic, appreciated her rar^ qua ifi cations
and entrusted her with the education of his only daugl er '

About this time Christine Majolier became acquainted with

wH^ ,'"''' ' '"""^ "^'^" ^' ^''^' ^^^^-'^> -J^o after.
vaic filled the position of French governess to the children

of Queen \ictona. This acquaintance led to her feelin. a

special interest in the members of the royal fomily. In her

^iMts, m after years, to Madame Rollande. she often saw the

}uung princes and princesses, who always called her "La

bonne dame." To the end of he. life there was little joy and

s'^rcely any sorrow in this illustrious family in which she did

-- •■■ .-!i-iit.ii:3e

C"n>unc umlcrtook that of the young AdOI. Jalaguicr, ,vho

IQO

Consecrated Women.

"*«-*,L

at,'-,,

11.^ ,

died when fifteen years old, happy in her Saviour's love, and
strengthened m her faith during her last illness by her dear
governess, who had first led her to Christ.

It was about this time that she became the friend of the
Countess of Selon and the confidante of the family trials of
Count Cavour, who, whilst a Protestant at heart, believed it
right for him to conceal his faith, lest he should compromise
the cause of Victor Emmanuel.

One of the apostolical principles of the Friends (Acts viii. 14,
IX. 32) is to visit their members, at however great a distance
they may live. Thus the little company of Friends in Card
•vere often visited by their fellow-members from England and
America. The perfect knowledge which Christine had of both
the languages made her an excellent interpreter, and she often
left her home and entered with all her heart into this service
for her Master, travelling with them in France and Germany.
It was in one of those journeys that she first met Robert Alsop
who was afterwards her tender and devoted husband. Both
animated by the same feelings of Christian philanthropy, they
could not but be hai,py. Their marriage took place in 1847-
Christine was then forty-three, and found herself quite prepared
for the mission which still awaited her. This marriage caused
her finally to leave France for England, where Robert Alsop
had his busmess, that of a chemist.

Christine's marriage was the means of opening out new
duties before her. Her husband, as we have already said,
was a chemist in London. He had been obliged to borrow
money to enable him to begin business, and as he considered it
his duty to pay his debts as soon as possible he even deprived
himself of the privilege ot attending religious meetings on week-
days until he was able in some measure to free himself from
his engagements through tlie blessing of the Lord upon his
work. As soon as he found himself in a position of independ-
ence, Mr. Alsop retired from business that he might devote
Ins life to the alleviation of all kinds of suffering and distress.
Ills wife entered heartily into all his schemes, and these two,

C/zn's/iue Alsop.

191

united by the most tender affection, mutually l.elped one
another ,n the work to «hieh tl,e Lord had ealled then,

1 hey were always ready to avail themselves of every oppor-
>;.m>yof<l nggood which waspresen.d .0 then,. MaZe
Alsop „. ahered the advice which Elizabeth Fry the . „st!
of the pasoners, had once given her ■" Watch h.^
do not allow a door once'opened .0 l^^^^"^:,

:. up^'ter: If "T '"■' "' "T"'"« •° °''-^' --' -

io,t ipon herself. Ihus it was that nothing which coiil.l
co„tr,bu,e ,0 the welfare of others failed to interns, ttm i e
...use of peace, of temperance, of freedom, of religious hbev
.und tn them advocates as indefatigable .^ they Cre 'incc«
trance, Belg.um, Italy, Gennany, Switzerland" .1 e Cdo 3

cSrd'trti™°s "•""'"" "'™'' ''""«'"• '" "- ™

ot bod and of their Society, comfort to the alilicted eimrst

peals to Christians, h„n,ble petitions ,0 soveretns Ta

l.uthlu testimony to the gospel. And doors op l^ed , °il

The Knglish surroundings in the midst of which Madame
AU,p was placed by her marriage might have tended ,„ if
or remembrance of her native country ; but^'eT, et e ^ L™

becoming^' :i,';med'vi;r\:r x^,:r\:Tr^^ "^

upon myself in later

/c<tio ij 1 ijii. tno5

rcmomhnn,^« «f i i ■ - " ""- ^"^=c m amiction, t

:alled
ie ill affliction, the

to
power of communicating

192

Consecrated Women.

S«W%.

to those around her something of the faith and trustfulness by
which she herself was sustained.

Once after a day spent in visiting different kinds of mission
work, when I was feeling almost jealous of England, where
one half seemed to be working to evangelize the other half,
and I was dreaming enthusiastically (with more agitation than
judgment) of means for establishing all over France works
smiilar to those which I had just seen, she said to me : "Thou
art spending thyself in dreams, when thou ought only to be
desiring that the Lord may one day be able to say of thee, not
only, ' She dreamt of things which she could not do,' but 'She
has done what she could.'"

What struck me most in the mission work in England was
to see the Christian women labouring amongst their poorer
sisters who were living without God. This work specially-
attracted my sympathy ; but I felt my weakness, and scarcely
dared tO entertain the hope that I might some day be able
myself to carry the message of salvation to others ; nevertheless
according to the advice of Elizabeth Fry, I resolved to " watcli
the openings," making use of every opportunity which the Lord
might put in my way.

I rejoined my husband at Versailles before the reopening of
Pans, and it was there, in a room of our hotel, surrounded by
some of these destitute women, that I spoke to them for the
first time of the God who chastens those whom He loves.
We had scarcely settled at Boulogne-sur-Seine when I opened
sunikir meetings there, which succeeded beyond our expect-
ations. Madame Alsop undertook the task of collecting part
of the money necessary for this work and for others which were
established on the s.^me plan.

The Society of Friends is little known in France, in spite of
the benefits which they so liberally bestowed on her ravaged
provinces after the war of 1S70. Tiicy work with so much
humility and so little noise that those whom they help often
remain ignornnt of the hand which brings the blessing.

Mr. and Madame Alsop had, however, a good number of

•'I —t\J\ % \^ JL. VJ .

Christine Alsop.

193

friends in France. Mr Al'^nn Ia,.^,! t-

li.r country." In June ,s,> ' "'•"^'.' ."'f he had married

-died throughou. the XT" Fr 'r'uno """"■""'
iiusi onary journevs u-h,VJ, \ V "P°" ^ series of

'■•^'ctiers, La Rochelle, Rochefor Enr?! ' T'' ^•■""'"'
S...d.y, and ™any so.is wer'ctvl'utd ^"^1*1''-;^'"
1 TO earnest workers, now advanc-H in , , ^'""

»i.h a holy calm, seemed bear u, on'te^; M °'' '""^ "'°"«
"■vine peace whtch filled the khe' r," a„^, T ™!'?'" "' *=
"Oman, so l.umble and so ea me \ . '*''"" '"^
Intensions to eloauence in the name tf IT Mai "'"'°'" ""^
"I'Tiy ])rcjudices and nn^nn^i T blaster, overcame

•'• hc^r disposal a story with a " li,t"e to nf , ' 7' ''"'"^
""0 of these little ones, whose 1 e " t she L """'"S''

fiv>^ years, hearing her mothe sav „f \ k™"' '^ "'^'''^ "'
;■;-' '-'- clappnr. her ZX. " Von ilf ^ot old ^°" "'"•
-. --V nice 1 Then you wiU he l.e ^t^ri'n^r yo^'

■^.":u^^trth:a;:::;:?t^r:xt^rv"-"^''

■'■'. and of encouraging to new eCf " Tl ''^' '=^'"*^''

M-.er work is a'pleasure ■ sJd T T '" ''^ »"™'-^ °f our
'"-••Is fuily f,it „,i^, ,„<j i „^f„,.;^„,/. G" ney. Our dear
«t it out in their lives durin -, i "-'"" '"S^her to

liu. this union wis now S , ^ ""^ '"'^'X-nine years.

A.»p. whom Gorcairtott™ /i^tl'^.str °' ^'^•

.. u- :: z\ u""' •™"' "'"^'' '^'-j-e A w';,e ;..,.»...

""en said, I, too, would giadly be called

m
J

194

Consecrated Women.

'!-t***%H

»-j^

home." A id sometimes, in si)ite of the faith which sustained
her, her joyous countenance was overshadowed by a cloud of
sadness.

The following years saw her still active; but a tendency
to asthma and a diniculty in moving obliged her to give
up travelling. Nevertheless she was still the friend of many
bereaved ones, and of many workers for the Lord.

The evenings of the winter 1 87 8-9 were cmi)loyed by her in
putting together the poems and letters of her husband. Her
object in collecting them into one volume, entitled "A Tribute
to the Memory of Robert Alsop," was that this noble life
might be made of use to his friends. This work was printed
for private circulation, and was only just out of the press when
she herself was called into the presence of God. We will close
this short notice by giving to our readers some details of her
last moments.

At the time of the Yearly Meeting in May 187;, a consider-
able number of Friends were as usual gathered together
at Devonshire House, London ; and Madame Alsop 's sister,
yielding to her request, went over to attend it with her, never
thinking that she was going to close the eyes of her dearly
loved Christine. In accordance with the custom of Friends
by which women are allowed to speak in their meetings, the
two sisters often stood up to glorify their Saviour or to exhort
their brethren. ALidame Alsop translated for Mademoiselle
Majolier. The work of various kinds carried on by Friends,
and represented in their meetings, occupied the thoughts of
our friend, and gave her a last opportunity of testifying to the
mterest which she took in everything which concerned the
advancement of the kingdom of God.

The two sisters afterwards went to Lewes, to visit some
friends there ; and here, on the 15th of June, Madame Alsop
was seized with erysipelas, to which she was subject. The
disease made rapid progress ; the dear invalid noticed this,
but did not seem disturbed at it, even though she was not at
home, bumelimes she looked forward with a humble assur-

visit some

Christine A hop, ,g-

ancc to the joys reserved for the redeemed " Tk«, . •
to see thy Beloved," her sister saidTn 7 " ^'^ ^°'"S

her husband. Mesur's nTv i^,' , - ^'J' '^'^' '""^'"^ ^«
i^eloved is mine and U His " T ' . "\ ''^"^^' ^ " ^^^
•--iring, h-.e a faint edi:^:^ I ^ thV G^oodTht h" T^^
fiood Shepherd giveth His life fr the s^eep r'"'' ^^^^
slicep, and am known of Mine » - I .L ?* , ^''^ ^^^
III",. » «< T , -^ 8'^^ "nto them ctcrmi

1"^- I am on the banks of dehvcranrr^ " ch. <-icrnai

■1IH.S ended this long career during which our deir friend

un " 7 ^f „e nil ^ , ^ ser\ant is dead, now therefore rise
"P. Jxt us all do what we nn tk« ;„<? , "'^ **»^

e-^g ever, da. and ^,:eTs Jct^ "n™ ^T I
"■n«ork for good or evil to those around us. T:,e Master
S' es, to each, one or more talents of which He w i ask ,h!
n ores,; and the solemn times in which we live cr; ou to '

oneofut. "Sh! r.r!, *'?• •■'"'' "^^ " ^ '^id "f each
"IK 01 U4 ; She hath done what she could."

t.-^

I
I

SARAH Af^fD ELIZABETH A N.

All other life is short and vain ;
/A' Ir.eth longest ivho can tell
Of living most for heavenly gain.

t)R. H. Do.VAR.

:.-m

'iip^ta

«»■«»,

HK sacr.ncc of Christ, because it luuh taken away sin, admits
not of rcpct.uon I he apostle reasons on this as a truth acknow-
lodpcd by all. Sacrifices which are repeated, lie says, brinj; sin to
rcmeinbrancc ; a sacrifice which lias put it away requires no rcpc-

_ "What shall wc then say of the Romish mass ? We arc told that
It IS the body and bh.od of Christ, and yet those who say so n/>r.f
U covtawally Only one thin^ can be said, viz. that it is an open
testimony to the inefficacy of Christ's sacrifice. . . For there

IS no other sacrifice for sin than that which is thus reputed ; and
a sacrifice which c.jn \^ repeated is. according to the reasoning
of the text, a valueless profitless nothing. Let me affectionately
caution you to avoid all appioachcs to [Rome]. In this dan^rerous
day such a caution is more than ever needful, for the approaches to
It are gr.adual ; we slide into her errors before we are aware."-
Jaits Mtuiitat tones llebraka.xoX. ii.

I '*\ _J Ol I Vi/.j.

• ^^ >«>•..». w> .J «_■

VTTI.I

way bin, adinils
1 truth acknow-
ays, brill},' sin to
cquircs no rcpc-

iVc arc told that
lio say so /•,/,•,//
lat it is an open
■ . For there
repeated ; and
) the reasoninjj
c affectionately
this danfjcrous
- approaches to
) arc aware." —

SARAH A N.

IJoRN 1806. Died 1840.

i:lizabeth w — .

Horn 1813. D'eh 1842.

OARAH and Elizabeth A „ were the daughters of a

O Scottish Protestant who had married a lady of Irish
descent, a member of the Cliurch of Rome.

Tlieir father died when tliey were young, and their mother
cclucatcd them in the Roman Catholic religion, while the sons,
at thar father s request, were brought up Protestants. During
their father's last illness he often sent for Sarah, who was ten
years old, to read to him out of the Bible. His face would
light up while she was reading, so that slie used to go of her
o«-n accord, to offer to read, that she might see the happiness
I produced The little girl does not seem to have taken in
the truths which she read, but their efiect on her father she
never forgot. The younger daughter, always called Bessie
was an imaginative child, full of thought and life. Her brother
thus writes of her : " There was character in Bessie's every
act, most remarkably manifested in childhood in the theatre of
her baby-house, where you would encounter a very formidable
array of historic characters, dressed with most classic taste
and each sustaining his respective name or i)lace with won-
derful ability. How well I remember her Leonidas, his cos-
tume, armour, patriotism and courage. And such were many
of them, whose chivalrous deeds were related by her before one

H Life, and " Memoir of Mary M. C. Methucn."

I
I

m
9

■■m

200

Consecrated ]Vomcu,

^3,

the k n,I." I)«s,c was .Icvolc.l, l,y hcrraolhcr, .„ a nun's llf
-nd she was tauKl.t ,o cxpcc, fewer in,IuI,o c s ,h „ o |t'
d, Ten, who were being prepared for .ho' world wWle
was l„ 1,0 a rrhg,cmc. She was thus obliged to cirrv ou.
tos of l,erchurrh,and the poor child las been 7no"n

somethin ofa .. ■ .i^a' ""Z ^'' ^ '"""""^ '"'"

once a,„ri„,pre.ssed';:':;:;r ^^. T^^^^^
ihe followin,, inci.lent will illustrate her c-r,.l .V
Bessie wa, i„ ,I,e habit of going y ar y «■ ,h tr ^o^,^ 'f''""'
some weeks with hor grantlmini ■ !'" .'"°"','^f '<> ^'-y
forwar.l with great pleas" efZ^ " '"" '''" '""'' ■''

bei,,gn.de^r.hiX;:;i„r^-^J-^:™;~-,-

wl e ;/,™f 7 • ""■ "'^"'' ""'8'" ^"^ -- iH-r I'e p"l ;

I ied ". N '",::v'-l.:r ■"■"•^■''"" '""^ ■"■^«- "^ "O"-
.- oi ', , ' ^ ' ' '" '""" "■<•■»■• "'<•• other,"
^^^^ Oh 1 but, ,„a„n„a, I Jo,,, like it, and I ,,m ,,,„ .h, y „^.

wish you to be equally so of xw^rs in] fl,<.r r "^ '•

nage witnoui jicr. biie bore her rl-- ,, . , / • " ' "'"

uore ner cl,.-<'i|iO!ntrucnt m silence,

• ^ I -j\jt t

Sara/i and Elizabeth A-

-n.

iling anythinpj of
. to a nun's life,
ices than otIuT
•orld while she
carry out the
been known to
ome occasions,
Iler mother
)uchin.q the life
privations with
i-'nforccd obedi-
-• of their word,
in this respect,
mother to st.is
isit she lookcl
reparation was
: to be di Cased
r blue pelisse ?
Her mother
r."

wear the blue

lanncr, but be

not go at all."
It, and Ilessio
ire. Mrs. A,
lot break my
mma's in this
i>iy word, I
, as you said
must stay at

h words, but
f in t? p "ir-
'• in silence,

201

'"t, i(j inc rules laid down in t "^ Mi\;^ii -,« i

«■..» l.ftnl from her l,c. , onk o ,T " V""' "'^' '''•■'s'"
,'"'> ^"K'^ther again (urini:: the week

"I I'^r r.|,|,>..a„ncc was iioliccdas very rennrk-,1,1 . h "".'"'"'■

-:^.rc;:^ -;:r.;':-- -"■--■"--"

iKrsdf come to experience ,l,e Ace am 1,; "r '""

r.l rinn n„ 1 J 1 pt.ac(, ana nope of riu«

^::>:;'t:.sr°^';^;-rrx^"^-'' ^■'-"

►,.^-11-1 ,. *= "■ ''^^'' '^arah, who was nruv r..n..f^p.,

s<-uuica uic comfort derived bv hr-r fntu.^ f "','• '"■".-''■^^
t^^e Uible Hivinrr nh/ , ' ^' '^'°"' listening to

Die. Having obtained permission of the priests, she

I
I

203

Consecrated IVoJucn.

/•»<«•»

"**^

V--^

"«»:

1-a*;

becjan to read portions of the Scriptures to her mother, and the
word penetrated the weary heart, bringing light and peace.
While Sarah was on one occasion reading to her i John i. 7,
"the blood of Jesus Christ, His Son, cleanseth from all
sin," her motlier bid her to stop and leave her alone. Some
hours afterwards Mrs. A. sent for both Sarah and Bessie, and
made this confession : " My daughters, I must tell you now I
sec it all. I see now that my own works can never save ne,
and that I have no neeu of anything to fit me for entering into
the presence of God, but the blood of Jesus Christ, inasmuch
as it cleanses me from all sin. It was Sarah's reading this
word to me that has given me peace ; and I can tell you now
that I have no longer any fear of death, and of entering into
the presence of God, for my trust is in the blood of Jesus
alone."

From that time her peace flowed as a river. One evening
in May she sat for a long time by the open window, con-
versing on many subjects with her daughters who were kneeling
beside her. When she was exhausted with talking they re-
mained for a time silent, gazing at the beauties of the trees
and fields just bursting into new life. The mother's face was
lighted up with unearthly joy. At length summoning her
remaining strength, she exclaimed, " I know that my Redeemer
livcth." These were her last words. She ivas carried to her
bed, and soon after entered into the Father's house above,
leaving her children orphans.

Bessie's griet knew no bounds, and she clung to the
beloved form till her brothers were obliged to remove her
by force from the chamber of death. Sarah, who had been
closely nursing her mother during her lingering illness, im-
mediately succumbed to fatigue, and the result was an
attack of typhus fever. Bessie, left alone during that first
desolate evening, quitted the house, thinking that if she
were to spend the night at the bottom of the garden by the
river she would take a chill and die, and soon rejoin her
mother. Those in the house were attending upon Sarah, and

111 _I O I I

Sara/i and Elizabeth A-

■Jt.

203

aother, and the
^ht and peace,
ler I John i. 7,
nseth from all
r alone. Some
md Bessie, and
tell you now I
lever save ne,
3r entering into
hrist, inasmuch
/s reading this
m tell you now
)f entering into
blood of Jesus

One evening
\ window, con-
o were kneeling
;alking they re-
cs of the trees
)ther's face was
;ummoning her
.t my Redeemer
carried to her
s house above,

: clung to the
to remove her
, who had been
ing illness, im-
result was an
uring that first
g that if she
garden by the
oon rejoin her
pon Sarah, and

the poor child's absence was unnoticed. For hours she paced
the river's side, giving vent to her grief in cries of anguish,
calling on her mother to return. At last morning dawned, and
soft strains of music, from a pleasure party on the water,
reached her ears. The sounds soothed her troubled nerves,
and she went back to the house to be laid up with a severe
cold. After Sarah's recovery ihc sisters were separated for
some time, and during their absence from one another both
passed through an experience which changed the whole tone
of their future lives. Each sister, having seen the powerless-
ness of the teaching and practice of the Ronush church to
meet the needs of an anxious soul, was led to examine the
Striptures for herself whether these things were so. Bessie
often remained at this employment till two o'clock in the
morning. The result was that both Sarah and Bessie, each
unknown to the other, came to the belief that it was their
duty to leave the Romish communion. It was with deep
anxiety and tender concern for the feelings of one another
that the sisters met.

IJessie (it is believed) broke the silence by saying, " Sarali,
have you been to confession lately ? " The reply was, " No,
and 1 never mean to go any more." The other said, " And such
is my resolution too." With joyful hearts the sisters offered
jiraise ainl thanksgiving for the guidance which had led them,
without any human teaching, into the same path. The next
step was to convey the tidings to their beloved friend and
guardian, Dr. Doyle. After united prayer that strength might
be given them to act " according to the mind and will of God,"'
their minds were directed to a passage in Isaiah, which they
accepted as the message tor this emergency. It was the fifty-
first chapter, and the portion which seemed especially helpful
to them was from verse 12 to 16: "I, even I, am He that
coniforteth you : who art thou, that thou shouldst be afraid
of a man that shall die ? " etc. ; and the concluding passage : " I
iuive put My words in thy mouth, and have covered thee
in the shadow of Mine hand." On communicating with Dr.

I
I

J
J

Mil

Ml'

204

Consecrated Women.

nkp"'

f«»i

Doyle, he urged tiie sisters calmly to weigh the arguments in
favour of the teaching in which they had been educated. He
allowed them to read the "Bible, but made them promise that
they would not, for a time, look mto a Protestant book on re-
ligion, or converse with any Roman Catholic on the subject
under review. Dr. Doyle was a man of a powerful mind, and
a bold and unwearied advocate of the doctrines and practices
of Rome, and no doubt he imagined that the contest would
soon be decided in favour of her teaching. He was mistaken;
for two years his protegees read all the works which he put be-
fore them, and answered the arguments from the Scriptures.
The more they read the more they were convinced of the "un-
scriptural assumptions of the Charch of Rome." At last Dr.
Doyle said he would lend them only one more book, and il
that did not avail he would give up the contest. The book
consisted of statements maligning the Reformers, bringing
charges against their private lives. When returning the book
Sarah gave her opinion that "supposing the lives of the
Reformers were such as this book declared them to be, still it
would only prove that they were frail human beings, 2\A though
sr.ch conduct would dishonour whatever principles thcv advo-
cated yet the princiijles themselves would continue unchanged."
Dr. Doyle w\as sitting between the sisters, and turning to
the elder asked if she still maintained the same opinions she
had so often expressed. She answered firmly that her views
were unchanged. R.essie gave the same reply to his question.
He then rose and stood before them, and for two hours "gave
a most impassioned address ; in which, with all his powers of
eloquence, he appealed first to their reason and then to their
affections." He ended by saying to Sarah :

" And, not content wiih throwing yourself into the dark
abyss of error and perdition which yawns at your feet, you drag
your sister with you ; and will have to account, before the
judgment seat of God, for the ruin of her soul as for that ol
your own.''

He sank into a chair "overwhelmed with fatigue and

l>ll =101 I \J±. V-i-Ja.wri«-iJ.o-i«-i

the arguments in
1 educated. He
lem promise that
tant book on re-
c on the subject
)\vcrful mind, and
ncs and practices
le contest would
ie was mistaken ;
which he put be-
n the Scriptures,
need of the " un-
tie." At last Dr.
ore book, and ii
itest. Tiie book
jrmers, bringing
;urning the book
he lives of the
em to be, still it
;ings, DJ-A though
:iples tliey advo-
inuc unchanged."

and turning to
me opinions she
' that her views

to liis cjuestion.
:wo hours " gave
ill his powers of
nd llien to their

If into the dark
>urfect, you drag
Dunt, before the
)ul as for that ol

ith fatigue and

Sani/i- and Elizabeth A-

-n.

205

emotion." Sarah had listened witliout moving a muscle, or
rai.sing her eyes from the ground ; and when Dr. Doyle ended
a severe conflict^ was going on in her mind, between her
natural aftcction for lier guardian and her conscientious sense
of duty. At length duty prevailed, she felt that she must " obey
God rather than man." Turning to Bessie she said, "We
h.id better return now"; when, on attempting to rise, it was
found that she had lost the use of lier Umbs, from a sudden
^•.rukc of paralysis. Thoughtlessly as we may hope, the words
1 assed Dr. Doyle's lips, " You see your very limbs refuse the
uiiLTatcful office of forsaking me ! " Afterwards he expressed
great regret at what had taken place, and promised to represent
that the illness arose from purely natural causes, so as to
irevent the report being circulated that the event was a
judgment upon the Misses A. for leaving the Church of Rome.
The sisters continued warmly attached to him, and valued
Iiis judgment in all matters unconnected with religion, and
Hessic had free access to his study, where he conversed with
!icr on many intellectual subjects. Sarah was confined to a
s:ck room for many months, and never recovered the full use of
i-.ir walking powers. Her desire that her guardian might cease
to trust for salvation in anything short of the atoning blood of
Christ found vent in many prayers for him, and it was the
x'lcf of both sisters that he had this hope to sustain him in his
■'^>X hours. Previously to Dr. Doyle's last illness tliey had left
Carlow at his desire, for Bessie's visits to the poor, Roman
Cuhohcs as well as Protestants, had brought her into collision
•-^;th the priests. Twice their house had been attacked by the
I'opulace, and the servants of the family had been frightened
ly rumours of further manifestations of dissatisfaction towards
•ho "heretics," as the Misses ^ A. were styled. Dr. Doyle
>id peremptorily forbidden a young barrister to take pro-
^■edmgs against "his ward. Miss Bessie A. " for some out-
uken expression of disapproval of the conduct of a priest;
- iie Plainly told the sisters that there were some in his
cose who were not under his jurisdiction (whether Je^uits

m
m

206

Consecrated ]Vomcn.

^^n^Hm,

» ■«* ,

S*j

or Rockitcs they could not tell), and he advised them to live
in a large city where they would be less known. They left
Carlowwith rc-rct, for Dr. Doyle was failing in health, and
they longed to be near to minister to him. He had long ceased
to argue in favour of Romanism, and seemed often anxious and
absorbed. A little te.xtbook given him by Bessie was his dai.y
companion. On hearing of his increased illness Sarah and
Hessie returned to Carlow, and remained near him, hoi)ing to see
his face once more. But no persuasion on their part coulu
gain for them the desired admission. He lingered for three
months, and then, when he could no longer hear their lovin"
words or speak to them, the sisters were permitted to look upon
his face. He was in his coffm lying in state, dressed in full
canonicals ; tapers were burning, and priests chanting around.
The sisters sought out the nurse who had attended upon
him. She was either dull or unwilling to repeat any of his
words, but seemed much shocked when she mentioned that
the Bishop had not received the communion during his illness,
and had died without extreme unction.

The following are the concluding passages of a letter written
by Sarah to a Roman Catholic priest in 1834.

Remembering the anathema pronounced by the Roman
Catholic church for contempt of any one decree, I might
conclude my letter here, as having gone quite far enough to
leave that chuich, without a hope of my being ever saved.
And so I would conclude, but that I consider you entitled to
a knowledge of the self examination you advised me to enter
into, when in relation to the church's view of sinners finding
mercy you got me to repeat the confitcor. I began by laying
down that passage, * If we confess our sins,' etc. (i John i.),
and then, pretty much as follows, I reflected on the way in
which the church declares salvation, and on that which gives
delight to some whom she condemns. According to the
Roman Catholic church, when a sinner heartily desires for-
^\\v..\^..^. „,! i,.^ ctiifiio in iiCaven mit:iL uc eunicssca to as wca
as God, and nivoked to intercede with Him for pardon of the

i>i( noi I KJx. vj_]j..^icj-i..j_iu

)f a letter written

Sarah and Etizabcih A ;/, i-o;

sins confessed ; and when the priest, through whom confession
has been made, pronounces absohition, the penitent must be
careful not to feel as though he had been fully pardoned. He
must believe himself in some degree indebted to God's justice
still, and hope to render satisfaction in the way of penance in
this life, or by suffering in the next, in case he dies too soon
to l:ave performed whatever was enjoined. Even those to
\\iiom a plenary indulgence is given at the hour of death, and
wlK) receive the unction appointed for the dying, must feel as
if tliey erred in hoping to be fitted for an entrance into rest •
they must expect to suffer for a while, but they are solaced
with a liope that prayers and alms on earth shall mitigate their
paui, or soon release them from it.

"0 my soul! thou hast long since considered all this doc-
trine, so as to reject it wholly ; and wilt thou not for ever cleave
to l.at which thou hast chosen ? For how, if contrite sinners
1)0 not fully pardoned, wholly freed from condemnation, can
God be viewed as fai.' ful to that promise of His covenant,—
'their sms and their iniquities will r remember no more,' and
just to the merit of His blood by whom He made it ? "

Carlow was now quitted with little regret, and the sisters
returned to Dublin. Bessie had gained much intellectually
by intercourse with Dr. Doyle, who used to discuss with her
deep subjects in philosophy and science. Her mental faculties
were thus early developed, and she was now anxious to enter
upon a course of regular study; and, being still young, she
decided to avail herself of the advantages afforded for mental
unprovement m a boarding school. Here her high spirits and
lier liveliness made her a general favourite. One who knew
her later on in her life tnus speaks of her : "She was the most
bru'ikhwg person I ever saw. There was an expression in her
smile as if th -re lurked there an inexhaustible fund of arch-
playfulness, but held in the strictest subjection, never for one
•noment passing the bounds prescribed by the consciousness of
iHgaer destinies and holier objects than anythinif of mere
iiiirth."

i
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•Ml

208

Consecrated Women.

Duringthe year she spent at school she kept the interests
of the si)intual hfe prominently before her. Amid the ceaseless
round of study she was hindered from enjoying those times of
communion which she felt were needful for the sustenance of
her soul. A year or two before she had passed through a
niglit season, during which the sense of sin had pressed her
down almost to despair. Slie felt then that, although her life
was full of work for her Lord, she had neglected meditation
and prayer, and that " God had not been in all her thorghts."
Pra}er had been offered for her by many friends, and words
oi cheer given her, but all was without avail till Sirah one day
repeated to her the words, " The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth
from all sin." The word all was applied by the Holy Spirit
to her heart, and she realized that her sin as a backslider was
included; from that time peace and joy were her portion
Now she felt that it was her highest privilege to keep near to
that Saviour who had redeemed her and whom she had taken
for her guide. She therefore determined to find a place where
she could be alone, and have a quiet time for prayer. At dusk
the young people of the school had an hour at their disposal.
Bessie longed to have this time all to herself, and finding a
ladder which communicated with a flat part of the roof she
thought she had secured a quiet resting-place. Her companions,
missing her, went in search, and heanng their voices at the
bottom of the ladder Bessie appeared at the top. She re-
sisted all their entreaties to come down and join in their
amusements during that hour, and after a few days they ceased
to trouble her. All day she looked forward to the quiet hour,
when pacing up and down the leads she held converse with
her Lord, obtaining strength to testify for Him in the school-
room and the playground.

After Bessie left school, the sisters found themselves in a
pleasant circle, comprising some interesting intellectual people
who were specially congenial to Bessie. She also received

much help from association with t oH,, id,. -...-. ..t-...

sympathy was very precious to her in a time of bitter trial,

l^l -30I I \JA. VJ_IJL'^IVJJ.»j_j«j

Sarah and Elizabeth

)t tlie interests

id the ceaseless

those times of

2 sustenance of
ssed through a
lad pressed her
thougli her hfe
ted meditation

her thof-^hts."
ids, and words

Sarah one day
'hrist cleanseth
le Holy Spirit
backsHder was
e lier portion.

3 keep near to
she had taken
a place where
yen At dusk
their disposal,
md finding a

the roof, she
r companions,
voices at the
top. She re-
join in their
s they ceased
le quiet hour,
:onverse with
n the school-

mselves in a
ectual people
also received

<.UUi t.

f bitter trial,

;o9

vvlicn called to part with one to whom she was exnectin^
to be unued m the holy bond of marriage. He was a S
servant of God, and t^iey both hoped to enter upon missionary
work ni a foreign land. The call to another and a heavcnK^
country was so sudden that Bessie could not reach him in time
to have a partmg word.

In 1S3S she had a serious illness. Owing to an iniurv
caused by a blow she had once received, the doctors gave le
oi-uon that an operation would be needful at some future

llffVin. ' aT'^' '''■' ''"''' *" °"'' °^ ^^^ temperament than
suffcnng At her request, the operation was performed at
once Bessie was perfectly calm,, and when Sir Philip Cramp-
ton the physician who supported her, said " Lean against me
and you are as firm as a rock," she . nswered, ''Oh, Si;
llul.p! If I were not leaning on the Rock of Ages, I coidd
not go through what is before me."

During the season of seclusion which followed Bessie learned
)c deeper lessons m the school of Christ, and she left her
s.ck room with a fuller determination to give herself, body, soul
and sp.nt to her Saviour's service. A few years b fore S. ah
an I Cssie had lost tl.ir eldest brother, who\e hou^e h d b

c.r happy home. He had caught a fever while caring for

i "'"}-r "^"^T' '""^'^'^ "^ ^ ^^'^'^'»' ^"d had died after
short d ness. This and other circumstances led to the sist
being often separated, and at the time of which we are
wm.ng Sarah had been nearly two years with some frLds

u as enderly loved. She too had passed through the furnace

of a hction. After leaving the Church of Rome, and when

>owly recovering from a fever caused by all she had gone

hrough she was suddenly called to Dublin on account of the

cv.re Illness of «'one to whom she was fondly attached."

she hTi. f '''^'^' °^ ""'■^^"S him, and before he died

""' 2 d^n ~ f""^ ^o.xxxui. ui :,ecing nim "give the clearest evi-

u nee of a gospel hope and its attendant peace and joy."
The terrible suffermg of the parting, to her sensitive nature,

J!
ill

■af

2IO

Consecrated ]Vomcu.

.t3I^ i

* -A

brought on a rdnpsc o» the fever, and slic seemed on the
very Ijorders of tlie grave. When slic recovered, those who
knew her describe " the briUiancy which IMumined her fea-
tures " as something "unearthly," and an unchanging cahnncss
characterized her during the remainder of her life. Hence,
forth she was, more than ever, a blessing and joy to many.

In I'cbruary, 1840, IJcssie was in London, looking forward
with joy to being sliortly reunited with her sister. She hoi)cd
that for the future they would be outwardly, as they had always
been in sijirit, closely united.

Sarah had acted a mother's part to Bessie until the latter
had reached womanhood, '-hen they had become bound to-
gether in a blessed fellowship of mind and soul. IJessic "was
counting the hours until sh> should again embrace her sister,"
when one Sunday morning she was aroused before it was lighf
by feeling a gentle pressure as of a hand laid upon her head.
When she awoke she could sec nothing. But turning round
she observed a bright figure at her side. The face was veiled,
so that she could not recognise the '"eatures, but the whole
figure was "robed in light." It made a farewell sign of the
hand and disappeared. She felt pcrj^lexcd and anxious, feel-
ing sure that some sorrow was before her.

On the next day the tidings of Sarah's sudden death were
icceived by the friend (Mrs. E.) with ' ni Bessie was stay-
ing. Mrs. E. was so much distressed by u lexpected tidings
that she invited a Christian friend to come and break the
sorrowful news to Bessie. The latter was proposing to herseh
to tell him of the vision, when she noticed that he was observ-
ing her mournfully and that his eyes filled with tears. He
shortly proposed prayer, and as he prayed he disclosed the
event. Bessie was stunned by the blow, remaining uncon-
scious for twenty minutes.

Sarah A. had gone up to bed on Saturday evening, bright
as usual, and comparatively well, but an attack of apoplexy
had terminated her life at about the hour at which her sister
was aroused. Sarah's last words were, "For ever with the

I'^ll -JOI

Sarah and Elizabeth A

-;/.

211

•ynl. A short time before her death .lie had said to a friend.
• have been Jiinking that Bessie an,! I will never leave ea<h
others s.de in glory." And even on eartii, althougii the vision
of the departed sister was only seen for a moment, may she not
have been henceforth the unseen minister of the beloved one
whose spiritual welfare had been so dear to her !
Mer youngesl brother says of Sarah A., in writing to a friend.
her countenance was the most heavenly you ever perhaps
oo.cd on. After speaking of some books wliich were great
favourites of hers, he adds : " But her grand treasury and
constant study was the Bible. She never slept without it un-
der her pilluw, her soul delighting itself in the abunciance of
com ort Its promises supplied, and in the unclouded light in
whi. h It revealed the Father's smiling face as looking on her
tiirough Jesus, the hiding of which, she once told me, she had
never known, from its first bright beaming, not even for a
moment. Cheerful and hap,)y herself, a sweet an<l holy in-
llucnce proceeded from her look, her manner, her words, her
vuicc. She was naturally tender hearted, and her sympathy
fur the distressed was unbounded. Well do I remember her
niinistrations, both spiritually and temporally, in the cabins of
the poor and at the bedsides of the sick and dying, as she
u.ed to take me with her while I was yet a mere child, per-
'M's to carry a lantern in the dark winter evenings, or a
b.i.kct with some little delicacy from the dinner table to cheer
some poor invalid." The following stanza from a hymn which
was a great favourite of hers well describes the altitude of
'^arah A. s mind :

" If Thou shouW'st call me to r^ - -n
What most I prized, it ne'er was mine
I only yield Thee what m as Thmc ;
Thy will be done. "

As soon as she v. as .nhln \c\ frivol pr.,-,.:.-, , x .- • • ,

.. — ."-'%>, i..-^:=:^xQ. ^■lciu to visit those

friends with whom her sister had lately been staying Here
she found a resting place for a time. On the rocks by the sea-

\
%
I

I
I

■

Nit

m ■
Ml

«i

212

Consecrated Wovien.

^^^^«i„i

sliorc slic rejoiced to hold communion viih her Lord. At
every fresh home she hked to find a quiet i)lacc out of doors,
where she might enjoy si)iritual refresliment amidst pleasant
scenes. IJut she did not rest all the time, she went much into
the back slums of the city to seek out those who needed the
glad tidings which she delighted to carry to all with whom she
came in contact.

After a time her health sufTered from her exertions, and
she went into the country, remaining with Mr. and Mrs.
Methuen at Pockeredge House, Wiltshire, during several
months. 'J'here she met for the first time the only child of
these friends. Mary Methuen was a girl full of intense feel-
ings and asjiirations. IJessie could understand her, and give
her both sympathy and wise counsel. Mary became passion-
ately attached to her newly found friend. She thus describes
the impression made upon her by Bessie d'lring their first
interview. "Lovely in person she truly was ; but it was not
so much the loveliness of symmetry and outnard beauty that
attracted, as the beaming in her countenance of a mind filled
with sweetness, gentleness and intelligence." Anotlv-r friend
observes : " I never met with a young person who appeared to
dwell in such constant communion with God, in whose whole
deportment there was such a savour of holiness."

While in the country Bessie became engaged to Mr. A.

^^' • Four years previously slio had met him, and, as was

her custom, she spoke to him about his eternal interests. Cir-
cumstances separated them after having met one another only
a iQ\s times. But she was never forgotten by Mr. "\V., and
her face and words were ever in his mind ; he continually
prayed that they might meet again.

Happening to come to the watering place at which Bessie
was staying, he remembered that a lady who knew her lived
there, and made inquiry, hoping to hear something of her
whom he desired to see. The lady had left the town, but to
his surprise and delight he learned that the object ot his
search was herself there. He called upon her, but their inter-

V%\ 30I I

Sara/i and Eli-abdh A—

View was short, as he had to hasten away. At '..rcd.c
t cy aga.n met and the engagement took place. Bessie's visit
.. ockeredge lasted eight months. '< She seemed to del d

t Hs qu.et country life," writes her young iViend AH v
•Methuen "and spent most of her tinJwithS 1 1 ^

s i;:r't ^Tf '''■' ''' ^'"^ «^"^'^ --- --

tual weltare, and beauffully identified herself with all the
1^ and cares of poverty. She gave her counsel to then!
^'tl .sdom and love; they felt they had her sympathy
- ''^^t her admonu.ons were graciously received because

th" r;r'' --^^"""^^f ^^^•" Writing of her depart^
om thence, 13ess.e says: "I cannot write much ; I have to

cii<- 1 I feci deci)ly mtercsted. as I feel sure the Lord Jesus
would be It Jle were here." •'

On the anniversary of her sister's death she writes :

the Father' V^"^'* ?'' '1°^^' ''^ ''J°'"'"^' "^^ ^''' ^i^'^^ i>^-
c ather . house sustamed me, ere the Lord in mercy gave me

-other comforter, whose tender love has filled the achinf voiS^"

. Very happy m the love and companionship so graciously

ly looking for the coming of her Lord, and her desire
^ .'.tohveas a stranger and pilgrim on the earti. To her
'^iture husband she writes :

" Your picture of ' our house ' is very charming ; but oh let
^^ "ot ^rget the place which Jesus is preparing'f^r us, 'Ire
^ c sha be ever with Him in whose presence is^lness of o
And Will you be glad to be assured that I should like a! ml

^^ouage far better? Indeed, dear A , I could no in

tenuously reside in such a great house. HoVcoud we th ^
^iclare plamly that we seek another, even an heavenly 7'

.l.^l^^t^^^'^'^'':^' "''''''': A friend, Mr. S.,
wecldin,7 K ""° respected, was present at the

>\t.auing; he says :

"A few days before I accompanied her to town in order to

■
ft

««|

•tf
»i|

214

Consecrated IVovicn,

•St;.

make a few purchases. . . I was much struck with her
spirituality. She seemed never to have forgotten her position
as a saint, ri.en and united to Christ. He was her bridal dress.
She truly had put on the Lord Jesus Christ.

"On the morning' of her inarri.ige I .saw d -ar Bessie for the
last time in mortal form. Litilc I thought, as I pressed her
hand, and the bridal carriage bore her and her hai>py partner
from the house of our kind and mutual friends, that I should
have been so soon called to follow her remains to the tomb."

A few weeks after lier marriage severe illness came on, and
Bessie's life was despaired of. In writing to a brother she
speaks of the "most tender care" which had been lavished
upon her by her husband and his mother during her lung and
painful illness. She adds, "Truly I may well take up the
language r he 23rd and 103rd Psalms. How wonderfully
provided for nave I been ! "

Referring to her sister she writes to a friend:
"Oct. 29th, 1841. Many thanks for your sympathy ex-
pressed with reference to her, and the precious passage of
Scripture to which you referred, \u. i Thess. iv. 13-18! It
was indeed 'a .vord in season.' I never sorrowed as others
who have no hope. From the moment I was conscious of my
loss I felt assured that we should ere long be reunited. Uut at
first I viewed the glorious prospect, as it were, through a glass
darkly. Vague and confused notions of the spiritual world,
combined with an impatient wish to follow my /;/(;/ (for such
she was), formed a cloud, which nothing but the doctrine of our
Saviour's second coming could disi)erse. Now the eye of faith
is fixed on the resurrection morning, when the Lord Himselt
shall descend from heaven. . . Docs not He appear to be
the chief object in the scene, the source and centre of His
peoi)lc's joy ? And ought it not to be so ? Ought we to love
any in comparison of Ilim, who hath washed us from our sins
in His own blood? Oh may He give us grace to set our best
affections upon things above, where Christ sitteth on th

hand of God !"

•ight

1^1 30I I

Saia/t and mnabclh A -

2'5

II m.,a no. be supposed thnt Bessie was unmindful of ,he
du,.s of .:,,s hfc. One writes of her: "She acted L if
""I ,ng W.S beneath her notice, if i, co.,:d conttihute in the
- ot degree ,o the ..,..„„ or welfare of her fell'!-
■ .Hires hence her great power over the nnnds of the young ■
l:.»«r. the prnctu..! self denial, the wi.hngness to he useltl'
vv... ,1. the most common afl.srs of life, uniud with the con
• >.usness of peace with God ; and they felt that, in her, grace
"...a real .lung,' The same friend says : " She seemed o hve
Ml ro,m„„n,on w,th the unseen world, as one already helonl'
I.V to a i ,-, stratjger here, ye. happy fr.„„ an inward founta,°n

;:[..iuh:::'i'r""" "' '"""""""' '"■■'°^' >" «-™'.' '-"■

I, "'f "f ';;''>:„'' ™^""= ^'^^ "f f-^d «-hich heU that glowing
i'c:>n ha. l,r,lhan. fancy, in willing suhjec.ion. And ter joy
«... a foretaste of .ha. bliss upon which she so soon en.ered!
• . . But 1. ,s vain lo attempt to describe her; she left a

t'f lu™: of j':::,:.'" """^^■" ^"= -"■■"'• " -^ ••"•■ -f'-- -f

T.. her husband when absent from home licssie writes ■
he hope of seeing you, my deares. earthly friend is
-^^et. 1 canno. say Iha. I an.icipa.e the mee.in:- with 'the
N Mie extreme earnestness which 1 felt a fortnight since. This
erafon in my feelings I at.ribu.e to a blessed change of
m. d towards Hun whose place you had occupied if my
c K>„s. 1 tell you this, dear, because you must have seen
" ml> f om my las. letter .ha. you ha,l indeed becon.e an
J ./; and I know you would no. wish mo .o grieve the Holy
■,"•' on iny account Oh may your communion with the

In wiil'l" ,f "r ' ,"■'''"' ' '"'°' " P"''"' '■ T''^'". come

■'?'"""•■■ ■ • I ^---joi™ in hope of bemg

"III. Jesus, ye. I should not like to be called hence before .ho

"und.ng .he .run,pet, when you .oo shall ascend .o our

I'na! home. '

This desire was not granted; on the izih of March, 1842
ssie became tlie mother of a little girl. Much fever and

■

•1

•11

ill

•I
Itl

•il
t|

P..

2l6

Consecrated Women.

delirium followed during five days, and it was only a ^w hours
before her death that she became fully conscious. She said:
" It is hard to leave my husband and my sweet baby; but oh,
to depart and be with Christ is //;' better"; pronouncmg
the word far with the greatest earnestness, her face lighted up

with joy. , i- • 1 *

She repeated several times, "Sorrow may endure for a night,
but joy comcth in the morning." When her baby ^vas brought
for her to take a last look upon it, she only said, " My sweet
baby." To her husband she said " I will give you a text, 1
know in whom I have believed.' " She died in his arms, and
her last words whispered to him were the same as those re-
peated by her sister, " For ever with the Lord." She fell
" asleep in Jesus " at the age of twenty nine years.

Her husband thus speaks of her life : " She seemed to do
everything with an earnest steady dhpateh, as if anxious to work
while it was called to-day, and remembering that itis written,
« What thy hand fmdelh to do, do it with thy might. She
spoke to the poor in the tenderest manner, with the greatest
spiritual wisdom, and suitably to each one's circumstances. 1
know not how many, but very many, during the time of her
testimony for Christ on earth, owe their conversion to her as
the instrument, and wherever she went the Lord seemed to go
with her with a wonderful blessing, until her work for llim
was done and she was called ' to behold His face m righteous-

) ))

ncss.

Their youngest brother thus refers to his two sisters :

" They both sleep in Jesus now, and the day will
declare their acts and reveal their labours of love. They were
lovely in their lives, and in death they were not long divided;
and soon shall they shine together as stars in the kmgdom of
God."

INI aOI I

I few hours
She said :
y; but oil,
ironouncing
; lighted up

for a night,
was brought
" My sweet
u a text, ' I
is arms, and

as those re-
" She fell

;cmed to do

ious to work

it is written,

might.' She

the greatest

instances. 1

time of htr

ion to her as

seemed to go

ork for Him

in righteous-

^<rOOR yi^T MAKIi^G MANY RICH:'

CHRISTIAN EDDY and LOUISE SCHEPLER.

Just iofolliTiV, hour by hour,

As He leaddh ;
Just to draiv the moment's poii'cr,

Ai it needeth.

r. T-. Havercal.

HI
II

mt
•I I

sters :

the day will

They were

3ng divided ;

2 kingdom of

r*.

«!?•

*^ScAi:CF.l,Y can I name any one who can conlribulo moic to the
orcUr, to ihc prosperity, and the happiness of a family than the truly
Christian servant. . . . That holy woman, obeying her masters
'in sini^leness of heart as imto Christ, not with eye service, but as
doin.^^ the will of (jod with the heart' ; careful to comply with their
wishes and avoiding contradictions ; espousing all their interests
and f.iitliful evin to a scruple ; accommodating herself to their
intirmiiics within, and veiling them without ; good and noble
daughter ! raising, in fact, her own position by the dignity of her
sentiments, free by faith but a slave by love, what a gift of God is
this to a family ! Acknowledge that favour, you who have received
it."— Adolphe IVIomod.

V_/JL VIJ-l-vV l*-J^»-'-»^ g 1

to niorc to llie
^ than tlio truly
ing her masters

service, but as
iiply with their

their interests
herself to their
)od and noble
\ di,c;nity of her
L gilt of God is
) have received

IX.

CHRISTIAN EDDV.
BoRX AnouT 1815. Died 1S72.

IT is related of Frances Ridley Ilavcrgal that, one day
shortly after she had entered upon that path of consecra-
tion which was as a shining light shining brighter and
brighter unto the perfect day, she was suddenly phmged into
the deepest distress. " She had sinned through giving way to
a sudden impulse to speak a too reproachful word to a domes-
tic. Instantly there was the deep shadow of a cloud. The
expression of her countenance told of inward anguish ; the
sunlight had gone. Confession to God, and pleading for
forgiveness for Jesus' sake, did not result in the full pacification
C)f her troubled spirit. God forgave her ; but oh how sad to
tliink the future might be as the past, in regard to this ' besetting
^in.' The word was spoken to her, ' AVell, but this may be the
last time of your being so overcome.' For a mt)mcnt she
looked at the speaker in wonderment, and yet with intense
hoi)e; and then on hearing the inquiry, ' Is not Jesus able to
keep you from falling?' the truth as to His love and i-owcr
seemed to flash through her mind, and instantly the joy and
brightness returned." ^

We have given this narrative in full because of its valuable
teaching, while it is the fact of her distress being caused by
her having given an unkind word to a servant to which we
would call attention. Does it not sometimes happen that fretful,
impatient words are given to servants often unjustly, but always

•I

ft i

'• Scjucl to Such a Dkboing." rartiitlc^e & Co.

.•>,^-;^

2.10

Consecrated Women.

'«■»■

J* tie

with bad results ? And are not such words used by mistresses
who profess to be Christians, and used too with httlc subsequent
feehngs of regret ?

We often liear it said that the comfort or discomfort of a
family depends largely on the conduct of the servants of the
household. This is true ; and the faithful servant, who remains
in an uncomfortable place from a desire to lead souls to Christ,
or out of compassion for mistress or master or little neglected
children, is a treasure beyond all price. But in the general
vay, if we would have good and faithful servants, we must not
only receive them into our houses but we must take their
si)irilual and temporal interests upon our hearts and minds,
seeking to help them by wise thoughtfulness and prayer. And,
with these feelings, we shall treat them with Christian courtesy.
We cannot touch on this subject without having in mind
one mistress who, during nearly sixty years, was honoured
and beloved by her servants. They knew that she sympathised
with them in their trials and temi)tations and in their joys also.
If they failed in duty she souglit their good in the si)irit of
Galatians vi, i, having first carried the difficulty to Him with
whom she communed, touching every care and every interest of
her daily life. When her servants married, or when family duties
called them away, she followed them with her prayers ; and in
their times of sorrow or sickness she was ever ready to minister
to them. One most faithful servant who spent nearly a lifetime
in her service had naturally a quick temper, but siie hac
realized the blessedness of that calmness and rest of spiril
which pervaded her mistress ; and in her last days she
mentioned that when her fellow-servants or friends were having
" words ' about anything it bad been her custom to retire into
another room until the storm had passed by. Her sister lived
in the same household, and married after eleven years' devoted,
loving service. For thirty years in her own home she showed
unmistakably that she was a true follower of Christ. She
was refined in mind, but more than all she was sanctified by
Divine grace ; and the neighbours, who frequented her little

111

^Ol • V«/.^ »j -J..*, w I •-•-.*-•

by mistresses

:llc subsequent

iscomfort of a
lervants of the
t, who remains
ouls to Christ,
ittic neglected
in the general
;, we must not
ast take their
ts and minds,
prayer. And,
stian courtesy,
ving in mind
iVas honoured
e sympathised
•heir joys also.

I the spirit of
t to Him with
ery interest of

II family duties
ayers j and in
dy to minister
,'arly a lifetime

but she hac

rest of spiri;

ast days she

is were having

to retire into

[er sister lived

rears' devoted,

le she showed

Christ. She

sanctified by

Ued her little

Christian Eddy.

221

:,hop, testified that never did they hear from her lips any word
not gentle and Christiike. Her old mistress and her family
loved her as a dear friend, and her sympathy in their interests
w.is unbounded. When her life, which seemed too full of
weary toil, was over, iier countenance showed forth the beauty
and purity of the soul which had dwelt within. The lines
which years of care had written on that gentle face were erased,
and a look of youth, all radiant with holy joy, rested there.
I low far the example and precepts of that beloved mistress
iiKiulded the character of the servant who was young when
she entered her service, it is not for us to determine.

In the following pages we have the records of two noble
women who, in honourable domestic service, followed in the
1 u jtsteps of Him who came " not to be ministered unto but
to minister." With a single eye to God's glory in caring for
all, even the smallest, material interests of their earthly masters,
ihcy became prepared by submission, obedience and faithful-
ness to labour extensively for souls. The account of Christian
luMy is from the \>cn of a minister who knew and liighly
esteemed her. He writes : *

FiFTV-SEVEN years ago there was joy in a humble home in
Cornwall over the birth of a daughter. The mother, who loved
Christ, chose for her little one the name of Christian.

At the age of seventeen the girl sustained the heaviest loss
that could befall her, the loss of a good mother, who, in dying,
tuinmitted her children to the care and love of her Saviour.

Christian Eddy left home early, but was driven back by
illness. Her stepmother watched the sick bed of the invalid,
and, l)etter still, watched for her soul as one who must give
account. Another, a heavenly watcher, was also keeping guard
over the sufferer ; and she rose from her illness a new being,
llencefordi to her "to live" was " Christ." It is an apostolic

' " Christian Eddy ; or, To me to live is Christ." Religious Tract
."iovuty. By permission of the Publishers.

II >

» •

222

Consecrated Women,

^'•■•l^

"'•'■ ■■©"t-f

expression, an ai)ostolic experience. It is a possibility then.
Yet few Christians attain, few even aim at it, perhaps because
they deem it a dream. Possibly the sii;ht of it before them
in this work-a-day world may tend to bring it down for some
into the region of realities, and to enable more to resolve " to
me to live " shall be "Christ."

I linger over tlie expression of the apostle. I take it to mean
that Christ is our life, and that our life is Christ, 'J'his is not
one thought only, but two; and both were exemplified in
Christian Eddy.

Christ was her life. Two minutes' conversation with her
would have told you this. Jesus was \\(ix foundation. " You
seem," said a fellow-servant to her fifteen years ago, " you
really seem to have no doubts." "I read my IJibie," she
replied; "and God tells me things. I just receive them as
they are, and that is my strength,"

No one who ever knew her could have disputed or douijlcJ
the reality of her faith in Jesus. And as to her doubting it
herself, the thought never ajjpeared to cross her mind; she
would as soon have doubted her existence as her Saviour.
\\'hen her journey of life in Christ had lasted nearly forty years
she testified, " at my conversion it seemed as though a Dove
rested on my heart, and He has never once left me since."

Jesus was \\(ix food. To live Christ is only attained by living
upon Christ. " Moment by moment," Madame Guyon used to
say, " the believer must draw water from the wells of salvation."
The experience of Christian Eddy was just the same ; and so
her daily, hourly habit was to " drink of the brook by the way,"
and to feed upon Christ. She did not give up any duty for
this, never neglected any call of affection or of suffering ; but
whatever she did, and while she was doing it, she was feeding
upon Christ all the time.

Jesus was her f^y ; and oh, what joy it was ! Her lips
continually said to wayworn wanderers, as her hand pointed
to Jesus, •' Come with us " ; and her life, nay her very look,
underlined the words ; she had no need to add, " we will do

CJiristian Eddy,

223

' suffering ; but

>ou good." Everybody felt that it had done her good to come
to Christ ; and the better you knew her, and the oftener you
saw her, the more you felt how great that good must be
whicli made her life soar as a lark and sing like a crystal
stream.

Once more, Jesus was her motive and her aim. I never
saw before, and hardly expect to see again, such sweet single-
ness of aim. I suppose the pendulum did throb, and Uic
clock tick ; but you could never see the one nor hear tne
other. You could only see the well kept time by the dial, and
hear the hours and quarters chiming with the sun. Such sweet
repose was there in Jesus, and such a settled purpose to love
llini, to live for Him, to please Ilim.

\VJiat a changed world it would be, if there were many ol
whom it could be said, as one who observed her closely said
of her : " If Jesus had been treading the path visibly at her
side, she could hardly have more constantly or consistently
walked with God."

It would be deeply interesting to consider how far the spirit
can overcome the flesh, or, in other words, what would be the
rc.-,uU of making Christ our foundation, our food, our joy, our
motive, in one syllabic our life. Suppose we were to make
the experiment, what might we hope for then ? Why this, I
tliink, that our life would be Christ. I am sure this was the
result in //^r case. Her character was that of one in whom
Ciirist was formed the hope of glory. You seemed to see Jesus
in all she said and did and was. Consistency is the rock that
re-echoes every prayer, the hammer that drives home every nail,
the feather that wings every arrow. One felt it to be so witli
her ; and some ot her converts owe their spiritual life, under
('Od, to this alone. Years before she left service her mistress
said, '' She has been a bright lamp in my house these eleven
years " ; and a fellow-servant testifies : " I went into the family
saying 'such cheerful, consistent piety cannot last.' I watched
h.^r closely for six months, and she was alwa] 3 the same. So
then I began to thmk there was something in religion. I

2 24

Consecrated Women.

•► tr»-

sought Jesus, and she helped mc to find Him, nor has she been
different all these fifteen years."

Blasi)liemy lost its bravery in her presence. Sometimes a
rude coarse remark would come ; but soon you would sec the
speaker's face drop, and hear his tone alter as he " felt how
awful goodness is."

But she was not satisfied with the silent rebuke her life gave
to sin, and the silent testimony her character bore to Christ.
No rniscr ever coveted gold as she coveted souls. To seek
them she was "instant in season and out of season." When
sent to the post, she would take care to have some little re-
membrancers of Jesus, wl.ich without loss of time she might
leave by the way. Tiacts, little books, and penny Gospels were
always at hand. One whom we knew dated his first serious
conviction to the Sunday she met him, a stranger, and gave
him one of the Gospels. " What could have put it into her
mind to give me this ?" was his remark to his child, with which
began a train of thought which ended in his conversion.

Her winning look and persuasive tone pleaded for a kind
reception for everyrhiiin; she said or did; so that when an old
lady whose heart was in the world stamped at another monitor
as an intruder, she sat down to listen to the words of Christian
Eddy ; and at the close of the interview she kissed her. This
glowing tenderness, caught from a constant looking by faith at
the sympathetic face of Him who would never break the
bruised reed nor quench the smoking flax, was doubtless the
reason why so many doors were thrown wide open before her.
The kitchen, the nursery, the parlour, the shop, the street, the
cliff, the hospital, the workhouse, the public house, were all the
scenes of her labour. Assuredly she had the blessing promised
to those who sow beside all waters. One servant in a house-
hold would be watched over, prayed over, wept over for years ;
and, when brought in herself, would have so caught the spirit
of her instructress as to live for Jesus, and si)eak for Jesus, till
all her fellow-servants were won to Him too. A young lady
of the family would have words dropped in her car, irresis*'hle

IMI 30I I V-

Christian Eddy.

225

r has she been

words, and would be led to give up the world, and pcihaps to
minister to the i)oor and become the guide of the blind.

A knid Providence had put it into the heart of one whose
purse was lar^^e to leave her a little annuity. This set her
free from any service save that of Christ; and nobly did she
use_ her freedom. The moments of leisure, like the drops of
a rich chxir, were ..jng out into the cup of consecration
iNor time alone was given. Like Jesus, she was never satisfied
to save the soul and see the body starve. No record of her
'naiities ever was or could be made. Ilcr "record is on
liigh '■ ; her tablets are the living hearts she warmed by her
constant bounty. She counted herself now "passing rich on
forty pounds a year"; and it is believed that she gave one half
of It to others. Many and many a want of her own was
stinted, that Jesus and His poor miglit be clothed and fed.
Persons who frequented the home where her last years were
spent would find one who was ever laying herself out to save
them and serve Christ. The Master had given her a talent,
and she was determined to sec how much she could gain by
trading. ^

Her gentleness stood her in good stead in the hospital and
workhouse. Certain rules are rightly laid down in these csla!)-
hshments, and they for a time prevented extended efforts;
but by degrees door after door was thrown open.

" Come in here," a voice would say from one ward. " There
are two or three wanting you to speak to them there," would
be the remark from another ; and (for here was where she
dihcred from most of us) every door opened was entered, every
o| .porlunity given was embraced. Fancy preaching the gospel
in i.ubhc houses ! But she did it, or if she did not preach
she went in and out every Sunday evening with a word here
;ind a look there which spoke for her Saviour; a tract for this
fallen woman, a Gospel for that degraded man. And so, like
a ranibow round a ruin, the liglit and hope of a holy life 'were
-uHo- It was a wonderful work. "Give me five hundred
pounds," said a strong man, a strong Christian too, " and 1

t
I

226

Consecrated W^omciu

'mix ,.
.1

k- tiif

could not do it." But, unflinching, unflnggrng, this weak
woman v/cnt on. " God hath chobcn the weak tilings of the
world to confound the mighty."

Years ago, in London, God put it in her heart to visit one
of the worst lanes in the metropolis. A policeman remon-

strated with her. " It is not safe." he said

(luwn there, except two at a time." " liut Jesus
mc," she rcitlicd ; and she went, and Wc '<>as with 1
gave her favour amongst the iJeupIe, and every one received
her gift or w<jrd.

; " we never go
i.-: with
ler, and

The Cliff will miss her. There she .^-as ofien found amongst
the pleasure seekers, seekif.g the highest joy on earth, the joy
of saving aouls. 'J"hc lanes and alleys of Brighton will miss
her, and scores of poor i)eople there will mourn her loss. Nor
the i)oor only. "I am a man of science, a philosopher .sc.
called," said a gentleman whom she stopped in her unob-
trusive way; "but I never thought of these things before";
and he turned to learn from a poor woman's lips, by the way-
side, the truth as it is in Jesus.

But "the disciple" is not to be above "the Master"; loving
ajipcals will sometimes be met by refusals and resistance.
Once, when going about doing gooil, she was struck down.
Instantly bystanders rushed upon the assailant, and would
have taken him bef(M-e a magistrate. " Vou must let him go,"
she said. " But he hit you !" " Yes, he did ; but you must let
him go." "But he st ^ck you to the ground ! ' " Still you
must let him go, I am sure Jesus would." And so her meek-
ness was as rare as her energy, and had the stamp of the same
nn'nt, the ring of the coinage of Christ.

Her courage has come out in some of the cases I have men-
tioned. Let me give another instance. In the next street to
where she lived there was a shoemaker, a tall athletic man,
who stood six feet two, and could walk forty miles at a
stretch. He was the terror of many, and hated religion with a
te!n!)le hatred. Th.e devoted clergyman of the district tried
to influence him, but in vain. A missionary, a friend of our

111 -JOI I \JJL. \.J-J.«.v/i\.».a.w_iv«

rt to visit one

Chrisliaii Ediiy, 22'7

friend, went, but came back shaking with terror. She began
to go herself ten years ago or more. '• How did you find iiim
today?' tliey would ask, when she came back out of the
hon's den. "Don't ask me how I found him," she would
reply; "I leave all that to Jesus." She confessed, how-
ever, that she expected every -noment to feel his huge slick,
especially one day, when .she dropped on her knees and
prayed for him in his presence. 'I'he brave heart was kept
Ui* by its faith. Ikre 'vere the hidings of its power, t'le
assurance that (Jod would bless His word. "How I'hne
the spot! "she said once, as she passed the window; "what
joy It will be when I have him with me in glory ! " And
this while his fury still raged. For nine years she visited him
without apparent result ; but at the end ot this time he was
stricken with illness. She begged to be allowed to see him,
and was permitted, on condition that she would neither speak
to lum nor pray for him aloud. Three times the silent visitor
Went, and watched, and prayed. In spite of the silence he
had enforced on her he had looked for her visits, he told her
afterwards, with eager anxiety. "The clergyman has given
me up, the missionary has given mcup, and now she has given
'ue up, and I shall be lost." Nay, but she had not given him
up, nor had God either. On the third visit the shoemaker
held out his hand. The ice was broken, and the waters began
to flow. The soul was opened to the Saviour; the man lived
lur a time to Him, and then died to Him, and now may have
welcomed his benefactress into everlasting habitations.

Her decision of character was shown as much in her faithful
remonstrance with what she believed to be error, as in her
steadfastness in seeking those who were known to be lost.
Once she wandered into a ritualistic church, and, entering
into conversation with some of the sisterhood, she pointed
them from images of saints to a living Saviour. At that
moment the priest of the church came up. Unabashed,
instead of ceasing her testimony, she turned to him, and
With admirable tact enlisted him, as it were, on her side by

'•

22$

Consecrated Women.

•saying, as she quoted the book he was bound to acknowledge :
•' I.'i it not so, dear sir ? " "I am afraid you don't reverence
tlio Virgin Mother," he answered, parrying the shaft. '• I
love her as a blood-bought sister," was the comprehensive
reply.

At another time sh. Iiad been trying to dissuade some people
from attending tiie nu'nislry of one who denied the genuine-
ness of large i)arts of the Gospels and the Deity of Him whose
life they enshrine. "Dut you have never heard him, how can
you judge ? " they replied. And so she felt it to be her duty
to go and judge for herself. She went, and her whole spirit
was stirred witi)in her as she listened to what seemed to lier to
be the denial of the indwelling of the Spirit in the believer.
" I am going into the vestry," she said at the close to her

startled companion ; " I must speak to Mr. . Come with

me." They entered; but when it was found that she had
come to expostulate, and, above all, that she claimed to have
that very experience of which the possibility had been denied,
they were bidden to withdraw. "No," she said, "I must
stay and witness for my Saviour,"

Of all the traits of her Christlikc character, none was
more marvellous than her perseverance. I have known her
hold on to effort for drunkards who had grown old in sin,
and for fallen sisters who had relapsed into evil, again and
again, with the greatest tenacity and tenderness. Some of
them are not saved yet. . . . Some of them were infidels ;
can they resist the testimony of such a life, a life now rounded
and completed by a triumphant death ? . . .

A group of sceptics came into the little shop one day. They
were watched by iuving Christian eyes, and spoken to by
gentle Christian lips. The ringleader of the band, (I forbear to
give his name, but I have heard that he called one of his children
Voltaire and the other Tom Paine,) blustered out his brazen
defiance. But when, after others had tried, Christian Eddy
came near and si»oke to him, he nn.iiW^d -inil t"r'->»H iw-v ""■'
said : "I cannot stand you, you talk like my mother." Seven

Christian Fd/y,

>% ")

2:9

> ars lusscd auay. The man Lad lon,^ i.u mc town I'.t

.ii-slrcss drove hi.n back in search of .vork II, ,

llr.t attended hin,. for he .v.s hid on Tl i / ''^"' ^^^

; "^^ "^ ^*^'^-^ ''^'*i on a beil of sickness. 'J'hcn

.1 ro,, cntorcl mto l„s soul"; he fcl. his ruin, l,u , <ha k

'••:' '^""'P.tmou.s, ahuost the only IVien,! he h,;,! ■• ..^ ,. r-

cschume. the other. " I pray ! i,„,,o.,sil,le." " Hut I n, v , i' "
lierephe,!; "you must pray." "iv.v vo„r-.if ,\ V

other "Cn.ll.n., V . '"y )'""^'i-ll, rephn the

Ihe converle.1 secpttc sent for his oKI companion., an.I
.1. ,^eJ ,hen> ,0 g,ve up ,he,r i„fi,i,|i„. ,„,, J^^^ ,,^ J^ '
N|' l..ng else, he s:,ul wouKl stau.l theu, „> s.ead on a , i '
• • Ami now n,a,k the influence of slcdfastness ,0 th'e
;.h. Moved hy what he said, twelve of these .nen wau
■.wk out the Rood wonun who had een so l.l,.s.,.,l .„ 1 •
-"nule's soul, lef, their addresses, .^k ; heM e .^d
v-t, cm;.a„d she had the joy of seein.rall U ™ , ,
. .Mcd, and four of ,hem hopefully converted to t.o

iiutall ih.. holy el-iort coidd not go on f.,r ever "The

i-tu,dced;'was'<winin. but the il.h " wa'^' J^

_ manifested itself; though no one kncv the severe

ulier ug ,t occasioned, or dreamt that it would soon put a '

IcTiodtohcr beneficent labours. No one but hersT 'i

It no.^ appears felt that '• the little whil. " w for i '

«"yn.eal, "nio,. ;e l^' I^IX"'^' j^^"' r'' 'u
or.en say. ■■ .Ve.t Wednesday, if „ot f„ X/,":L nt^kly

230

Consecrated IVomcn,

w ft-y

f .rcNvcll t{. one dear friend ; " I cannot be here ahvays to help
you," her frequent warning to another. Still they could not
u-oul.I not, heed it. How should they, when, after a day of
enforced confmcmcnt to her bed, she would come down as if
nothing were the matter, bonneted, and smilin- as she said
" I hope we shall do some work for Jesus to-ni^ht " ? So lite
as Thursday, April i8th, 187.7, she toiled up the Ion- weary
hill that leads to the workhouse. It was the last time It
was noticed that her frame was suffering and her steps were
slow. That day fortnight she was earned within sight of the
same spot to be laid in her grave.

15y the Saturday the symptoms had become violent, and it
was said she was to go to the hospital for an operation, an
operation which it was hinted might be Altai. " Do you hear
that ? " she said, turning to her dear kind friend " Yes they
say you are very ill." " They said I may never get well a-ain •
and won't it be beautiful to burst forth in the glory ? " Then'
seeing her friend in tears, - Don't be troubled," she said ; "you
will spare me for Jesus ; you won't grudge my going to glory?"
" No bride," says the same close observer, " weddJd to a lord,
ever went off so happily for her honeymoon as she went to the
hospital that Monday." After this there was very little oppor-
tunity for her friends to see her. She sent for her minister,
who writes these lines, but the letter never reached him, and he
had to content himself with her sweet message, " Tell him I
am in Jesus."

Tiie way in which she gloried in tribulation was the wonder
of the patients, the nurses, and the doctors. As they carried
her to the operating room, they expressed surprise at her jubi-
lant joy. «< It is not me," she said, " it's Jesus." The secret of
that supernatural joy indeed could never be self, it could only
be the Saviour.

When asked a day or two after by a friend how she had felt
when the hour of suffering came, " J felt," she said, "as \i in
the glory. And now Jesus is so precious, so precious." ''And
her face brightened as she spoke, like unto the face of an

Louise Schcplcr,

- 1 1

.hvays to help
■y could not,
fter a day of
ne down as if
g as she said,
It"? So hue
; long, weary
ast time. It
r steps were
1 siglit of the

iolent, and it
oi)eration, an
Do you iicar
*' Yes, they
:t well again;
ly?" Then,
e said ; "you
)g to glory?"
ed to a lord,
i went to the

little oi)j)or-
ler minister,

him, and he
"Tell him I

the wonder
they carried
at her jubi-
'hc secret of

could only

ihe had felt
il, " as if in
js." "And
face of an

nngel," said my informant. To another visitor she said, " I 'm
s ) happy, so happy, so happy ! " and she repeated it three
times with eyes upraised to heaven. And then, '' tlic ruling
passion strong in death," she added in tones lowered to a
wliisper, "Jesus has found a little work for me to do here.
I've given aN^-ay all my Gospels." " Mere is one more for you
t!icn," said tae friend, handing her the only one in his pocket.
•' Read a little," she replied ; and he read, <' In My lather's
house are many mansions." Before twenty-four hours she had
entered one (>f them. She walked through the valley of deatl),
hut feared no evil ; His rod and His stafT they comforted hen
To her " to live was Christ," and therefore " to die was gain."
We arc sure of it. If the being unclothed was so glorious,
what must be the being clothed ui)on ? The secret of her
gracious life, the secret of her glorious death, was Christ. Wo
glorify God in her. In such an one it is given us to sec how
inu( h of the heavenly treasure an earthen vessel may contain
May her death be fruitful as her life. I^fay sinners to whoni
she spoke rise up to call her blessed, and many half-hearted
believers be "baptized for the dead," and live henceforth
uilh something of the spirit of Christian Eddy.

LOUISE SCITEPLER.
Born about 1761. Died 1S37.

The great work which the Pastor John Frederick Oberlin
accomplished in the wild district of the Pan de la Roche was
largely supplemented by one in humble life, his servant Louise,
ihe work was varied, comnrehending the care of the bodies
and minds as well as the souls of the people. Madame Ober-
lin warmly entered into her husband's labours till her death in
1784. Then the orphan girl, who had been her servant for
t!„ht yea-s, offered to take charge of the house and the scvci?

I
I

2 7,2

Consecrated ]Vomen,

(.1

!#l

mo hcrlcs children, the youngest being a hule helpless inf-,nt
Lou.sc Schepler was at this time twenty-three years of age, and
s described as a ''sensible, pleasant-looking young wonnn
1-bUed n. the costume of the peasants of thc^ countV' S "e
sho^ml her entn-e devotion to the family by henceforth refusin
al offers of marnnge, and by her determination to accent no
'^'' C.?\''''] ^'"^^ ''"^y' ^7^3' ^-"- -ote th
fl klw r "' r'"- ""^ ""^' '^ ^'" >'°-^' --^ oia of h
hernote. ' ''""^" '''"' "C/.r />./.." The following is

" Dear and Beloved Papa : rcrmit me, at the com-
mencement of the new year, to request a favour which I have
ong desired. As I am now really independent, that is to sav
as I have now no longer my father nor his debts to attend to
I beseech you, dear pai>a, not to refuse n,e the favour of
makmg me your adopted daughter. Do not, I entreat vou
give me any more wages; for as you treat me like your child'
m every other respect, I earnestly wish you to do so in tl '
particular also. Little is needful for tlie support of my body
My shoes and stockings and sabots will cost something • but'

to its fathT' '"" ' "'" "' '"" '" '""' '' ^''''"^ ^in>l'-
rZ?^'' I ^'"/'•c^'^t you, dear papa, grant me this favour, and
da liter '''"''' "^' '' ^"" "°^^ '^''^'^^'y ^^^^^^<^

Ever afterwards Louise was looked upon as a child of the
house, yet it was sometimes a trouble to Oberlin that he could
not get her to take a present in money, for even when sent by

mulm? it. '"' '^' "^^''"'^ ^^ ^'^^""' '' '''' Siven and
Oberlin's death occurred in 1S26, forty-two years after that
o his wife, and on his removal a sealed letter was found in
which he pays a worthy tribute to Louise Schepler's labours
It was written in iSxr, when he imagined his end to be
lie %x\ ,

1^1

Louise Scliepler, j,,

'Mv VKRV DEAR Children : In leaving you, I commend
to your care the faithful nurse who has brought you up, the
mdefatigable Louise. The services which she has performed
f.L our family are innumerable. Your dear mamma took her
i;ndcr her care before she had attained the age uf fifteen • but
even at tliat early period, she rendered herself useful by her
talents, her activity, and her industry. On the premature
decease of your beloved parent, she became at once your
faithful nurse, your careful instructress, and your adopted
mother Her zeal for doing good extended beyond the con-
lines of our own family. Like a devoted servant of the Lord
she went into all the surrounding villages, where I sent her, to
assemble the children together, to instruct them in God's holy
Will, to teach them to sing hymns, to direct their attention to
t.ic wonderful works of nature, to pray with t!iem, and to com.
.nunicate to them all the knouledge that she had herself
'Icrived from me and your mamma.

"This was not tlie labour of a moment ; and the innumer-
af.lc difhcult.es which opposed themselves to her benevolent
employments would have discouraged a thousand others ■ for
; • ' on the one hand she had to contend with the wild and
■^ ^d characters of the children, she had on the olh.r to
|;onect their patois, and consequently, after having spoken to
.cm m that dialect which was necessary to make h rself un
^Jcrstood, to translate all she had said in o French The bad
roads and the inclement weather, so frequent n Uiese o "t
a.ns, presented another difficulty; but l.either siee , nor r n
nor wind, nor hail, nor deep snows under foot, detain d";

tho gh exhausted, wet and weary, and chilled with excessive
cold she would set herself to attend to my childrenKl to
o..r household affairs. In this manner she devo d Lt on v
::;r.:"' abilities, but also her health and all he o 1 ly
, " "v --ViCv, ui;cl lu ine service of her Cod Fnr
'"■^ny years past indeed her lungs have been injured nd her
co.«.umon absoh„eI, ruined by over f.-.i^u, a'" by s^lden

234

Consecrated Women.

>Ml!|i

WlJi

ransuions from heat to cold, and from cold to heat hivln^
f en when warm with walking, crossed the snow aiid sank
nto them to such a depth as to be scarcely able to gel o t S
•cceu-ed a sufficient recompence, you will perhant sav in t L
ample salary that I allowed h^r. No dear rhii 1^'

nnd good management. Judge, dear children, judge o I
debt you have contracted from her service, t, „" , ,
far you will ever be fron, rc,,ayi„g". '" '"^' ■''"^ '""'

" In tunes of sickness and allliction how kindlv hi, ,h^

.ect;:iy, r,rt'h:;"si'\:: cr;;>uns '^t:^ »<■ ™'

situation, and opportunity permit ^'"' ""=""'

"Adieu, my very dear children, your papa,

"J. F. Oberlin."
At his death Oberlin's children were invi^,,, t„
.heir father's wishes, nnd oftWed Lou^ an eZ" s nn"? T
mle property he had left. This howev" si e"d ask !
only to remain in the family and to "i<H fl,„ i ""''^''' ' ^
of Oberltn to her own." ,^„e of'the'child'; J't ^ "ul
almost superfluous to s.ay that, whilst a dcscendan of Ob i

xs:it:! ™' '- -*-«'- 1^ ."ey^:

In .8.9Loui,c Schcpler unexpectedly received a "Jlon

1^1 -loi i~^^ib ^«

cl to licat, having
■ snows, and sank
le to get out. She
2iliaps say, in the
Jar children, no;
never been able
for her services;
)ing good, and in
t was always as a
articles of dress
? to her economy
en, judge of the
to me, and how

l^indly has she
' has she sought
'• Once more I
are that you take
wish of a fatlier
with feelings of
'U will fulfd my
•idually and col-
as your means,

Louise Schtflcr. o^^

thyon pri,:c " of 5000 francs. This gave her great pleasure
nut merely on account of the honour, but because it enabled
her to help the needy. This she continued to do so Ion- as
l«er strength permitted. Almost to the end of her life she was
orcupied with her schools. She died in 1837, " respected and
beloved by all who knew her, and tenderly cherished by Vhe
children of her revered master."

papa,

P. Oeerlin,"

>us to carry out
\\ share of the
refused, asking
lonoured name
writes: " It is
^nt of Obcrlin
ntil they theni-

vcd a "Mon-

!;»■

•■i«te

iSlWii

>•«"

^yATCHlNG FOR SOULS.

FIDELIA FISKE.
Ves, I rest in Thee, Beloved,

Kmu,zvhat wealth of grace is Thine,
l^now Thy certainty of promise,

And have made it mine.

J. S. PlGOTT

[St. Mult. Mv. ; St. Mark vi. y ; .St. Luke xxi. 37 ; St. John

xxi. 37.]
"Now it is this bcin- alone, this abidin- for a ni^-ht on tlic
nKHun th.s rcstin, nvhilc, this goi„, apart to pray,lu " th!:
hat uoukl suggest as a corrective to those inHuences which a
life of uninterrupted activity cannot fail to exert for evil on our
sj)irits. ...

"And this mingling of contemplation with action, of spiritual
repose wuh unusual energy, has been the secret source V,
.uperionty of many of those whose names shine brightest i
Chnst.an annals, the inner spring of that sanctity and ze!'d which
..cm ,n some men only to have increased in freshness and in fra-

^/A P.JI'Tr'i ^.'^^^'^^'i'^VV,"/,,-///. late Frc^icrick Myers,
M.A., Perpetual Curate oj St. JoluCs, Kesiuiclc.

1*1 -JV^I I V^.^ -vti

<-^i- 37 i yt. }i,hn

MDELIA FJSKK.'

I^OK.V lSl6. DlLD 1S64

]7n)I.:UAnSKE was born May ,st 18,6 If

1 qn.ct uut-of-thc-u-orld mountain hon^ n \r /''' ''

^^''-^; tl>c little girl imbibed those sson of d^T

; -n.l.teness winch helped to form h er nr L 1""' '""^

-A.,the responsible duties of he" A^ e i? 't JT''"'

^'"--i I'lain one-storey farmhouse wifh n I 1 r ''°'"''

-'-c ti,c domestic duties were ^^^^^^ , "'^' ^''"">' '■«°'"'

f', , ^'^'- ^'^'^^''-••i on durin'Mli/w?i,. t

-^mly .-..Kl i.roniaUly the swift o„r , m ?' '"' "'' '''^'»-
'^'I'l^ was brought L.h a L,to 'e d Tn >?"" ""^ «-'^'
""wi^d." Tl.cn all retired to rest „ rt„' , ^ "'"' ''">''^''
'n-'" the varied duties of another dv A .. ™ T'' """
-iL^ious iunuence pervaded tt home Fh"!'''"'' ''^'"'"'
• ' -veral generations had been earnest ! ? '""■^""'
->n,.n. Indeed, it was for the pur^se of it™ '"'" '"''
I'^edou, that the original settle th? , ?^°^"'" "-'"fi'""^

'"■"■11 Kn"hnd to If? . ' ™ '"■""'"=' '''^ke, went

'-"oiana to Massachusetts n i6t, n;,t r •

giandmother was eminently a consec ntcd tL l^," ^"''''-

stl a].:,rl whole days " to Liviv, , ? '■""■ ^'"•' "'ould

fi"JIy seed to thetatestX-fon" '"a ''""", ""«'■' "^ "
'S57 three hundred of 1 r d«cenda^,f "' '''" "'•^' '"
Ci.rmian churehes, How vou d si, "' """""" "<

«'^at grand.laughter who e Uer d in o t! \T'^ °'" '>"
^u^h .nighty power in nrayer i '''°"'''' ""^''''"o

3J»

240

Consecrated Women.

"/a

* i.t

Little Fidelia was very thoughtful. " Nothing seemed to
cscai)c her." She was always looking out for information, and
was " qui( k alike to detect mistakes and to treasure new and
important facts." From the age of four to about sixteen she
attended the district school. She was as a young child very
independent, not liking to be helped over a difficulty in her
studies, choosing to plod on till she had mastered it herself
and had made the lesson her own. She had a strong will,
which showed itself very definitely on one occasion, when she
was only two or three years old. Tlie mother was a praying
woman, and she did not weary of extending " protracted
punishment" to her child until she >ielded. Fidelia ever felt
grateful for the experience. No doubt it was easier, in after
years, to come into submission to God .. will, because, as a
child, she had been brought under subjection to her parents.

The children were thoroughly instructed in the Bible by
their father. He was fond of general reading, but the Bible
was his "special deliyht." When Fidelia was three years of
age her uncle, Pliny Fiske, went as a missionary to the Holy
Land. From that time the interests of the foreign mission
field were daily talked over in the farmhouse at Shelbourne.
As soon as she could read Fidelia devoured missionary intel-
ligence, and always welcomed the Missionary IleralJ, which
she often read aloud to her mother. At the age of thirteen her
sabbath school teacher spoke to her scholars on the importance
of decision for Christ. The word penetrated the girl's heart.
For months she was distressed on account of her sinfulness.
One day the mother gently asked her, " What is it, my child?"
With bursting heart she answered, " Mother, I am a lost sin-
ner." The mother dealt tenderly, wisely, with her, and Fidelia
received the glad tidings of salvation into her heart, and in
1S31 made a public confession of faith in Christ. From this
time she sought to bring others to the same Saviour. She be-
gan to teach in the sabbath school, and in other ways to work
for those around.

When twenty-ihrcc Fidelia left her chiidliood's home, and

IV«I I V.^ VJI -J J. «..>»*-»■«■ w. -» vj

Fidelia Fiske,

241

oci's home, and

tntcrcd Mount Holyoke Seminary, becoming a member of ilie
niuidle class. 'Ihc following description of the advantages she
found there will be read with interest. -This institution had
a high reputation for its educational and religious tone There
presided over it one of the most gifted, fascinating, and lioliest
of women, Miss Lyon. Mere Fidelia found herself in a tho-
roughly congenial element. The very atmosphere was cxhil i-
rating to her mtellcctual and spiritual nature. The diligence
and thoroughness in study there required, and the almost^i.^id
order and system whic h i-revailed throughout the establishmc^nt
suited her mental habits. The prominence given to religious'
instruction and religious duties happily met the wants of her
rapidly developing religious life. She felt the quickening in-
fluence of contact with so many other minds whose general
nim^ and sympathies accorded with her own. Especially did
she feel and respond to the rare innuence of that imperial mind
which originated and presided over the institution. She early
conceived a profound and reverent attachment for Miss I yon
which became intensified and was in no small measure Veci!
procated. It was a wise providence that brought two .such
natures together, fit teacher for fit pupil."

At the close of f.e first year of Fidelia's studies typhoid
lever appeared in the school. Fidelia returned home and
shortly sickened ns ith the disorder. During this illness she' had
an experience which she held >ry sacred, and seldom alluded
to It. She thought herself dying, and the glories of the unseen
world appeared opening around her, and her Saviour seemed
very near, speaking words of peace to her. Ever afterwards
the thought of death was pleasant to her. But she had other
experiences during that visit at home. Her father and a sister
took the fever and died. 'I'he sister was younger than herself
and tenderly loved ; she had previously been led to Christ for
salvation through Fidelia's prayers and entreaties.

After nearly a year at home Fidelia Fiske returned to Mnunf
Holyoke and entered the senior class. After graduating she
became a teacher in the seminary. iTofitable and stimukiting

242

Consecrated ]]\))ucu.

<S9

«. or-

and tliorougli as the course of study was in tnc school, the
assistance afforded in tho soul's training had for Fidelia I'iskc
and for many others a value altogether priceless. One arrange-
men: in the school was greatly prized hy the Christian mem-
bers of that largo gathering, and often these formed a large
proportion of the two or three hundred pupils. The descrip-
tion of the " half-hour system " in the American edition of Mary
Lyon's Life gives a little insight into the thought for every-
thing which characterized this remarkable woman. It mattered
not whet'ier it were making bread (an accomplishment she
mastered after she went to Mount Ilolyoke), or giving an abs-
truse lesson, or making opi)ortunities for religious edification
f<jr her pupils, she rested not till she had found out the plan
which was the most perfect that she could devise. Her ver-
satility was wonderful. In the matter of seasons for communion
with God, Miss Lyon held it to be her duty to arrange stated
times for the private rcatling of the Scriptures and jiraycr for
her numerous pupils, whom she received into her heart when
they entered her home. For this purpose half an hour was
set apart morning and evening, and provision made that each
pupil should be alone during these seasons. No inquiry was
made as to how she had employed the time, only whether she
had been free from interruption and had abstained from in-
terrupting others. To the Christian girls the time thus given
for retirement was accepted as a precious boon. .Alany others
received impressions for good during these hall-hours, and
dated from them the commencement of a permanent blessing.
Had the school at first been composed of frivolous girls, to
whom the time of silence would have been irksome. Miss Lyon
would have waited till the majority could appreciate it before
arranging the plan. But on her first opening the seminary in
1S37 nearly all who entered were Christian young women. Miss
Lyon's daily morning Bible expositions were of great' value.
From the storehouse of her own deep experience she drew

lessons to illustrato hf>r .^rrintiirr> t(5oi-)it"p«. p;,i„i:, t---i 11

doubtless known the benefit of daily prayer and devotional

\'%*"^3\tr^ i^ub vj-j-».^^ » «■« . %<-»>-

Fidelia Fiske.

=4^

tnc scliool, the
r Kidclia I-iskc

One arrange-
Chrislian nicnv
formed a large

The descrip-
edilionof Mary
light for cvcry-
1. It mattered
iiplishment she
r giving an abs-
ious edification
1 out the plan
ise. Her ver-
for communion
arrange stated
and prayer for
icr heart when
f an hour was
lade that each
lO inquiry was
ily whether she
lined from in-
ime thus given

Many others
lalf-hours, and
anent blessing,
.'olous girls, to
me, Miss Lyon
:iate it before
le seminary in
women. Miss
if great value.
nee she drew
Siia Fiskc liud
tid devotional

rea.hng of the Bible before she went to Mount Holyoke, but
the habit must have been greatly strengthened there.

In 1842 Mary Lyon felt deeply anxious tliat her beloved
seminary "should be more thoroughly pervaded with the mis-
sionary spirit." She called a meeting of all present and fid
them that "one great aim in founding the institution had been
to advance the missionary cause." At that meeting the semi-
lury was again dedicated to the interests of missions. Miss
Lyon was often heard to say in after years, " I little knew how
luiirh that prayer meeting would cost me." Si.x of the twelve
teachers then at Mount Holyoke sooner or later devoted them-
selves to mission work among the heathen.

Shortly after this meeting Dr. Teikins visited Mount Holyoke
m order to lay before the teachers his need for a missionary
teacher in Persia. Miss Fiske in consetpience sent him a little
i:ote containing these .vcrci.. "If counted worthy, I should be
willing to go." Ho- ever, he mother and other friends placed
(lifncuUies in the w -y * on tie ground of health." Fidelia
yielded to these objei'ons-. Later, when the time for the
departure of the mission party was near at hand, the call to go
pressed so heavily ui)on her that, after u sleepless night, she felt
she must offer herself if her relations would relent. In the
morning the friend to whom she had confided her distress
spoke to Miss Lyon, who, with her accustomed proniptitu.le,
ottered to go with Fidelia at once to Shelbourne. They
started in a sleigh and travelled thirty miles, reaching the
mountain home, after sundry overturnings in the snow, late on
Saturday evening. The family were awakened, and rose to
welcome the travellers. " Prayers and tears mingled with the
(h^cussions of the hour," and before the sabbath closed the
mother was able to say, " Go, my child ; go ! " During the
short time that remained before the departure of Miss Fiske
her friends at Mount Holyoke spent all their spare time iii
sewing, for her outfit.

'■ >n the day of her departure a meeting was held to give her
llie parting blessin.- Then all gathered round her, and with

244

Consecrated Women,

;i3f.i

v bitj

*ii'

many tears took leave of one whose tender thought for them had
won tlic love of all. She only smiled and said, " when all life's
work is done we shall meet again." One present at this meet-
ing writes : " Shall we ever forget how affectionately she im-
l)lored her sisters in Christ to live faithfully for Mim, how
tenderly she entreated the impenitent to listen to mercy's call ?
Shall we forget the tones of that voice which had so often led
us in our devotions, as she once more commended us to her
God and our God ? "

Miss Fiske carried with her many notes from her pupils,
containing words like these : " Pray for me that my present
feelings be not lost, that I may come to Jesus fioic." " While
you labour for Persia's daughters, will you not sometime offer
a petition for your unconverted friend on Christian ground ? "
" When your eye glances over these lines on the broad waters,
will you not offer one petition for me, that I may not be lost
for ever ? "

This praying work was most congenial to her ; and in her
cabin, and often on her land journey of eight hundred miles,
she poured out her heart for these souls so precious to her.
It was not until her arrival in Persia that she learned that
most of these prayers had been answered in the conversion
of a large number at Mount llolyoke. Her joy and thank-
fulness were almost o\crpowering, and words Aiiled her to
express her feelings. During the voyage Miss Fiske dili-
gently studied the Persian language, in which she afterwards
became an accomplished scholar. She also devoted much
time to guiding the studies of the young daughter of hercon.-
panions, Dr. and Mrs. Perkins.

After landing at Trebi/ond, a visit was paid to some mis-
sionaries who, in loneliness and great discouragement had been
toiling for years. To these Miss Fiske's bright faith and
words of cheer were both soothing and stimulating. None
know so well as ihc isolated missionaries in a heathen land
the value oi a little Christian fellowship.

Oroomiah has 25,000 inhabitants, ol whom 900 are Nestorians,

rtrzjxjirr-xjjf:. va

Fidtlia Fiskc,

245

to some mis-

2,000 arc Jews, and the rest JMohammcdans. During the
fdurlceii centuries which had elapsed since the rise of their
founder the Nestorians had become much degraded, and liad
hltle rehgion left among them.

lor about eight years before Mis:, Fiske's arrival, American
missionaries had been working among this people in the
neighbourhood of Oroomiah, but their drawbacks had been
many, and no revival of religion had taken place. Tliey had
succeeded, however, in establishing a seminary where men as
well as boys were taught, and a number of day schools were
scattered about in the surrounding villages. The degradation
of the women seemed complete, and Miss Fiske desired to
establish a boarding school for girls as "the only way of teach-
ing them decent habits. The idea was looked upon as almost
cliimerical by her fellow missionaries. A devoted missionary,
Mrs. Grant, had commenced a female day school, and this had
been continued since her death; but the home life almost
counteracted the good effect of the few hours spent weekly
under civilized training, at least so lar as moral influences
went. The poor women were used as drudges, and spent
much ot their spare time in quarrelling and fighting among
tliemselves. They appeared to have no desire to learn, and
for long no fathers would give up their daughters to enter the
school. They feared losing some favourable chance for mar-
riage ; and they were also afraid that education would unfit the
girls for the heavy field labour to which they were accustomed,
but notwithstanding all these obstacles the Mission Board
offered Miss Fiske funds if she could procure six pupils for her
buarding school. She determined not to give up the project
till she had used all the means within her power to obtain the
desired result. She gave herself five years for trial, but long
before the first year had passed over six little girls had learned
to love her as a mother. The first two, Selby and Khanee,
were brought by the Nestorian bishop, Mar Yohanan. Miss
Fiske saw them coming, and hastened to open the door. " i
wept tears of joy," she writes, " over these two. Their little

246

Coiisecraicd Women,

.iSBf j

hands were placed in mine as the bishop said to nic, 'They
are your daugliters ; no man shall take them from your hand.'
1 shall be glad to give them to the Lord Jesus, and love to
tiiink of them as the beginning of the new school. Mar
Yohanan said, ' Now you begin Mount Ilolyoke in I'ersia.'"

There was much to be (U^ne before continuous mental
instruction could be given. " It is no pleasant work," she
says, " to do for these children when they first come to us.
Our own hands must wa'^h their poor bodies. You can have
little idea of the filth and degradation from which we take
them. We must first try to make them outwardly clean, and
we are glad to do this, asking Jesus to give tliem a new heart."
The habits of lying and stealing seemed ingrained. Nothing
was safe from the little hands when the teacher's back was
turned, and it was useless to ask where the articles were, as
they told lies in abundance with perfect nonchalance. Miss
Fiske felt that she must, if possible, put a stop to this pilfer-
ing, and she had recourse to the following expedient. It
was a summer evening ; the children were about to go through
her room to their beds on the roof. She placed six black
pins on her cushion, and slipped out as they passed. On her
return the cushion was empty, and she went and told the girls
of her loss. The twelve little hands were all lifted up as they
said, "God knows that we have not got them." Miss Fiske
replied, " I think that God knows you have got them." She
searched each carefully, with no success. She then knelt
down with them, and prayed that God would show her where
the lost pins were, adding, " He may not see it best to show
me now, but He will do it sometime." As she rose from her
knees she remembered that she had not examined the cloth
caps, and she proposed to do so. Instantly ( - litde girl put
her hands to her cap. This was first exaiwined, and there
were the six pins carefully hidden in the folds. This circum-
stanrr iiad a marked innuencc on the children. "Tiie pupiis
looked upon the discovery as an answer to prayei, and so did

ipon
their teacher.

_1V»I « XS*.

Fu/clia Fiske,

247

A devoted young teacher, in the depths of the country
among our little English heathens, had the same difficulty with
the stealing and lying propensities of the children. Probably
she had not read of Miss Fiske's experiences, but she once
tried the same plan when an article had been stolen by one
f Iiild from another. The same result followed ; after prayer
with her children the culprit was discovered, and all the
scliolars had a salutary and practical exposition of the text,
'• 1 hou God seest me." The little girl who stole the six pins
became a useful Christian woman.

Besides her school duties Miss Fiske undertook to visit
the women and iry to get them to attend the preaching.
They, however, could not be induced to go and hear a man,
and she had to instruct them herself. The first expositions
were of the simplest character. Here is one. " After reading
the history of the creation, she asked ' Who was the first man?'
Answer, 'What do we know? we are women.' Tl)is was
about equivalent in English to * We are donkeys.' Then she
told them that Adam was the first man, and made them repeat
the name 'Adam' over and over, till they remembered it.
The next question was, ' What does it mean ? ' Here too they
could give no answer ; not because they did not know, for
tlie word was in common use among th^'^, but they had no
idea that they could answer, and so the> did not, but were
perfectly delighted to find that the first man was called red
earth because he was made of it. This was enough for one
lesson. It set them thinking, it woke up fliculties previously
dormant."

At a distant village hundreds of women came together to
meet the missionaries. After fruitless attempts to keep them
from talking, Miss Fiske told them that, unless they would put
tlieir fingers on their lips and not say a word, she could not
speak. After some niinutes silence was obtained in this way,
and when she had gained their attention she read a story out
of the New Testament, and prayed with them.

In June, 1S44, Miss Fiske was going to Seir for the summer

2.l8

Conscn'cxlcd \\^ouic:u

.■*3i*i

•«5

icbt, intt-ndiiiL; to take Iicr boaickr now twelve in niinibei,
with her, wlien a storm of pcrscculion burst upon the mission-
aries. All the fifty schools, in the villages on tiic plains, were
dispersed, and Miss I'iske had to part with her beloved
children, with the exception of the daughter of Priest Abraham,
Avho insisted on her remaining. The hostility against the
mission work began in the patriarchal family ; the patriarchs,
uniting with the Jesuits and Mussulmans, "vowed to extermi-
nate the mission.'' Miss Fiske writes of this dark hour : " The
thought of turning our back on those whom we had hoped to
be instrumental in raising to life and immortality is truly
painful. The possibility of its being so has cost me many a
struggle ; but I am now willing to go anywhere that my Father
sees best to send me. ... I knew not before that my
affections had become so closely entwined round this poor
people, nor how severely I should feel a removal from them."

She writes subsequently : " I called [the children] together,
and Mr. Stocking briefly told them the reasons why they were
to be sent away. I wept like a child, and they all burpt into
audible weeping. I have wept before when called to part
with those for wliom I had been permitted to labour; but oh,
I knew not then the bitterness I now felt ! I was about to
send these children to a darkness almost like heathenism.
Had I not remembered that the Lord taketh care of His own,
and believed that He would bring light out of darkness, my
feelings would have been insupportable." A German Jew
who was with them exclaimed, as he saw the weeping children
depart, " I seen much bad to missionaries in other countries,
but nothing bad like this, to take little children from words of
Jesus Christ."

When everything seemed hopelessly dark the Russian
ambassador at Teheran stepped in, and through his kindly
intervention the missionaries were able to resume their work,
though still under great opposition.

In November the children returned, bringing others with
Ihein, so that by the end of the year there were twenty-five

"r*T~srvn I v»j. *j -j.».»i.» •«-•-►.»* — »-

n.:'ciia /''is.i'C.

249

2: others with

luj.iukrs in the school. Miss Fiskc was now assisted in the
Laiabhbhmcnt by a Ncstorian deacon. The following account
c>f her ceaseless care for the bodies and souls and minds of those
entrusted to her is from her own pen : '* Most of my girls leave
nic to-day for a week's vacation, I find that I am needing rest.
Vou may wonder that I should be worn, with no larger school
and with native help, liut you must know that I must be
mother and housekeeper as well as teacher, 'i'he girls come
to me needing a great deal of care at first. Each one must
1)0 bcparately cared for as she comes in ; otherwise the filth,
etc., that she has brought from her home will spread through
{.ur partially purified family. ... I must look to all their
I ;i>d and all their clothes ; I must see that they are in readi-
i!l.i;s for every duty, and also that they perform it, I must see
I'lat they are all quiet at the hour of sleei), and that they are
awake at the hour of waking. In short, there is no hour in
which I can sit down and feel perfectly at case in regard to
i.iy little ones, if I am absent from them; and yet I doubt not
iliat I have found more help than many who undertake such
a charge in foreign lands. It is no small work to prepare
lessens, even in the imperfect way I give them, I have en-
joyed much in reading the Bible with these children ; we si)end
liuurs each day thus employetl, God may yet sanctify them
through His truth, though now they seem far from it. When
tried with the filth and degradation of these girls and of their
niuihers, I am comforted by the thought that Jesus has been
in just such hemes and blessed their little ones. How much
mure He felt these things than I can feel them ! I love to
rcbt in this thought when a new child is brought to me, and
when I am wandering in the lanes of our city."

She writes on March 8th : " Not long since I invited the
mothers of all my children to spend an afternoon with their
daughters. Almost all came, some walking five or six miles
in the snow and mud. It was an interesting hour when wc
tould thus l)ring mothers and daughters together, and enforce
ujion them their relative duties. I hope the afternoon was not

2^0

Consecrated Women.

spent in vain, and that I shall enjoy many such precious privi-
leges with the hiotliers and daughters of this fallen Israel."

It was now easy to obtain boarders, indeed so many applied
to be admitted into the scliool that Miss Fiske was obliged to
resume the day school which had been discontinued. This
was at first taught by a former pupil named Selby, a girl of
fourteen who Ind left the school to mar v ?.. little '.'.y a > .7ar
younger than lierself. After the summer vacation in 18.15,
Miss Fi' ke wrius on October 23rd :

"You will be glad to hear tha my sthooi is reassenil-ied
for the year. 1 do not think the fond mclher more anxiously
long'i for the return of a loved absent child llian I do for the
return of my dear ones, ii would have done you good to see
the pleasure depicted on their counteiumces as they again
entered our dwelling. As we arc crowded, and obliged to
refuse many applicants, we insist tliit none biU those perfectly
h.rp})y rvitli us and willing to abide by our every rule shall remain
\m\\ us Selby 's not with us this year. Wc hoped to have
her hrrc, and her heart was strongly set on coming, but her
ava ■■'.cicus f.ither-in-law demanded such pay for her services that
v/c could not think of employing her. I feel deeply for this
lamb of Jesus (for such I believe she is) in her seclusion from
Christian society. But the Lord knows His OAvn, and will keep
them to the end. In her place I have a young deacon ol
good abilities, but who gives no evidence of piety. Pray for
him that he may become the Lord's. Perhaps the Lord has
designs of mercy towards him, and for this reason has brought
him to us.

'* It is exceedingly gratifying to see that our pupils have not
lost their religious interest during their absence. The last
sound that falls from their lips at evening is the voice of
prayer. They retire to their rooms for the night about eight
o'clock ; after a few moments we ring a bell for their lights to
be extinguished, and for them to cease speaking one to another.
After this, often five or six are known to engage in audible
prayer. There is something aflecting to me, as I pass by their

— \%^ ^i>Trr^ \jijl. vj-jj.'-' >*-•-

P-M2

1 precious pnvi-
Icn Israel."
;o many applied
! was obliged to
ontinucd. This
Sclby, a girl of
itlle boy a year
cation in 18.15,

is rcassern'^'cd

more anxiously
lan I do for the
yon good to see

as thoy again
and obliged to

those perfectly
lule shall remain

hoped to have
:oming, but her
ler services that

deeply for this
• seclusion from
n, and will keep
)ung deacon of
)icty. Pray for
5 the Lord h;is
ion has brought

pupils have not
:nce. The last
is the voice of
ght about eight
ir their lights to
one to another.
^age in audible
I pass by their

Fidelia Fiske.

^51

(lo'^r, in hearing their supplications and in remembering tli.it
Jcsus hears the inf^int's prayer if offered aright. I often feel
obliged to seek my pillow before nine o'clock, having no time
lo rest during the day. I never looked upcjn the school with
a deeper feeling of responsibility than I now do. Oh, may it
he n jt only what its patrons in America, but also what the
Lord, would have it to be I"

The first Monday in the New Year was observed by the
mi;,Tion as a day of fasting and prayer. There had been
previously only some slight indication of the blessing that was
aloat to descend upon the children of both seminaries. *' We
had spoken," writes Miss Fiske, " of passing that day in
'wrestling for souls,' But we had only begun to seek, not to
wrestle, when we learned that souls were pleading for them-
selves. I went into my school as usual, at nine o'clock ; and
after telling the pupils that many prayers would, that day, be
offered for them by friends far away, I prayed with them, and
then asked them lo retire to another room, where they would
study with a native teacher. All but two passed out. As
these two lingered I said, ' Did you understand me ? ' They
came nearer, and I saw that they were in tears. ' Have you
heard bad news?' I incpiired. They gave no answer; but,
coining still nearer, whispered, ' May we have to-day to care
for cur souls?' one of them (Sarah) adding 'Perhaps, next
year, I shall not be here.' I had no private room or closet to
yive them, but the dear children would find a place. They
went to the wood cellar, and there they spent that cold day,
seeking the forgiveness of sin. Nor did they seek in vain ;
ihey were soon trusting in Christ, and we were led to hope for
yet greater blessings.

'• I cannot well describe the -cenes of that week. One after
another bowed under a sense of sin. Every place was occu-
pied for prayer. The two schools hardly knew an^ tiling of
e-ieh. o^lv^r's condition till Friday wh.e'i thev met in th.c usual
Weekly prayer-meeting, in the room >\hich Mr. Stoddard had
Uoked might be * wholly consecrated to the Lord lor even

2^2

Co J : sea -atcd J Vo men.

ij>»

li
'I

Uml

fis

We: fell tliat evening' that the room was no longer ours but the
l.ord's, and we all wanted it to be His for ever, 'I'hc boys sat
on one side, and the girls on the other ; and I never saw a
company that seemed more fully impressed with eternal
realities. The careless ones had stayed away, and those pre-
sent were earnest seekers. It seemed to me that Mr. Stocking
and Mr. Stoddard were Heaven-inspired that night, as they
spoke of sin and of Him who saves from sin. Souls were born
there ; and we cio not wonder that many of our native friends
think the place a Bethel.

" For three weeks after the revival commenced we had but
little company. The time seemed to be given us to labour
expressly for our pupils, and it was to us like one continued
sabbath. Every place in our house was consecrated by prayer,
and all our work was for souls. At the end of three weeks
Nestorians from without began to Hock around us, and now
our dear pupils were true helpers. I often had as many as
ten or fifteen women to pass the night with us. ... I
love to remember these nights of watching with the Lord Jesus
for those precious souls. Oh, how easy to watch when He is
with us."

Speaking of the earnestness in prayer manifested by the
converts Miss Fiske writes :

"If they do not pray several times a day, they feel that they
are becoming very cold hearted. To-day, as they were jroing
out to walk, one of them, who perhaps had not prayed for
three hours, felt that she could not go until she should have a
few moments alone. I have the whole school divided into little
circles of five or six each, and have a prayc: meeting with one
circle every day. These arc precious seasons to me, and, I
trust, to them also.

"One night the girls of the school, while walking with their
teacher, came to a grove, when one of them said * See, here is a
grove ; what doth hinder us to be praying ? ' So they scattered
in different parts of the grove, and all prayed."

Again she writes :

1^1

;cr ours bul the
'I'hc boys sat

1 I never saw a
lI with eternal

and those pre-
\\. Mr. Stocking
; night, as they
Souls were born
r native friends

ced we had but
n us to labour

one continued
rated by prayer,

of three weeks
1(1 us, and now
lad as many as

us. ... I

the Lord Jesus
tell when He is

nifested by the

iy feel that they

hey were fioing

not prayed for

2 should have a
ivided into little
eeting with one

to me, and, I

Iking with thcif
1 * See, here is a
D they scattered

Fide ha Fish

253

•' It is delightful to hear those who have but just begun to
Idvc the Lord, i)leading for entire consecration to Him, and
also, with the deepest apparent feeling, wrestling for their im-
penitent friends. Can it be, I often think at such times, that
these are indeed sisters in Christ, redeemed by His blood, and
heirs of heaven I If so, what an inroad has been made on
Satan's kingdom ! God has brought to pass in a day what
yc.irs of man's labour could never effect. To His name we will
give the glory."

Two months after the beginning of the awakening the pupils
went to their homes for a vacation. As they took leave of
their friends at the mission house they said, '* Pray for us ! '*
" Tray for us ! " One little girl said, " Did you ever see a ne»v-
born lamb cast into the snow and live?" Miss Fiske adds,
•' Thank God, most of them did live, and we trust are to live
fur ever."

In tiie future of the mission many similar revivals were
witnessed in that house, consecrated by so many prayers. Miss
liske was very desirous to avoid excitement in religious things,
and indeed the revivals seemed to come without anxious effort,
save her abiding travail for souls and prayerful instructions in
Scripture truths. The practical effects of these awakenings
Were most encouraging. Faults which the teachers had long
souglu in vain to correct " almost entirely disappeared."

Miss Fiske says : "God made me feel my utter helplessness,
and then He did the work. Stealing and lying, to which they
had been addicted, were afterwards of rare occurrence. Great
tenderness of conscience was manifested ; sins of which they
had not been suspected were confessed ; stolen articles were
restored.

" Khance, one of my girls, came to me greatly troubled, say-
ing : ' Do you remember the day when, two years ago, Sawdee's
new shoes were taken from the door?' I said 'Yes.' * You
thought a Moslem woman took them !' and then- burstinsr into
tears, added, * but I took them. I was angry with Sawdee, and
I threw them into a well where no one could get them. What

254

Consecrated IFo;;!c;i.

T«

fl u

U»t:^

&•

sliall I do? I know Jesus will not receive me (ill I have con-
fessed it to Sawdee. Can I go and tell her to-night, and pray
with her, and then go and work to get money to pay her for
the shoes ? ' She paid for the shoes, and became a briglit and
shining light in her dark home. There were many cases just
like this."

We lr,.\., ..... ''it "tlic intellecl.1 of the girls seemed greatly
quifkencrt i\v .rrace in the heart. They brought better lessons,
wrote better compositions, and were in all respects better
scholars, strikingly illustrating the power of the gospel, when
received by faith, to elevate and improve the whole character
and life."

Notices of two . t..c oonverl'^. firstfruits of the harvest
which followed, will show the reality of the work. Miss Fiske
thus writes of one of these :

** Sarah was a tvill, dark eyed girl, of twelve or thirteen years,
when she first came to my school. We had few books except
the Bible, and so our pupils studied that most of the time.
Sarah learned her Bible well, and could repeat Karge portions
of it and tell all its stories. I co ild scarcely ask her to find
a text to which she would not turn at once ; I called her my
concordance. But sic did not learn that she was a sinner till
January, 1S46. She was the first at that \'i\:c to ask the w: v
to heaven, the first to find the way, and the first to entc
heaven. She lived just five months after she said to me, on
that first Monday in January, * Perhaps next year i shall not
be here,' Only a few days after her conversion her father
said, 'Sarah knows the way to heaven better tlian I do.' He
never felt that his 'daily bred 'had been given him unless
he hnd knelt with th^ dear child in pray-.-, and been carried
to hCv. m by her peiiaons as veil as his own. Vr. Stockin'^
used to enjoy conversing with her very much. He often said,
* If I want to write - good ser; ion I like to sit down first
and talk with Sarah, and then be sure that she is praying for
me.'

"You can casilv imogme iha* it was a mc^^ deli"*^lful privi-

_J %/l I v^-

Fidelia Fis/ce.

255

2 till I have con-
)-night, and pray
7 to pay her for
inic a briglit and
many cases just

s seemed greatly
lit better lessons,

respects better
the gospel, when

whole character

i of the harvest
)rk. Miss Fiskc

)r thirteen years,
ew books except
ost of the time,
.it large portions
' ask her to find
I called her my

was a sinner till
: to ask the w; y
le first to ente'
; said to me, on

year I shall not
rsioii her father
than I do.' He
;ivcn him unless
nd been carried
I. ATr. Stockiri"'
He often siid,
:o sit down first
le is praying for

dtiii;hlful privi-

If?c(C to watch over the dear girl as she was nearing heaven.
\Vc would sit for an hour at ime, and talk of the home ol
the blcit, while she, seeming t c its glories, would sing,

' It will 1)1. good to be there.'

. . . then her thoughts would turn to souls around her. . .
She was very feeble at the time of her conversion, but she 7<.'ou/,l
work for Christ. The girls, and women too, always loved to
hive Sarah tell them 'the way.' They would say, ' We can
s'jc it when she tells us.' I do not wonder that they saw i
for she seemed to see it all the time. I depended upon her so
much that I doubt not I let her do more than she was able to
do. Never perhaps was a young Christian going to the grave
watched with more interest than was Sarah. ' Will her hoj).
sustain her at the last ? ' * Will Jesus stay by her ? ' • Will lie
come for her ? ' they asked, ready to test the Lord's faithfulness
by the manner in which He should support this young sister
ir her trial. Their ex station was not disajipointed ; and
since Sarah died the Nestorians have looked upon death as
ni\er before. Heaven's gates are wider opened to them ; and
. is to them more a blessed reality that Christ comes Hiaiself
lur His own."

On the Sabbath on which she died Miss Fiske spent some
time with her, and when obliged to go to the school she said
to Sarah's mother : "Send for me when the Master calls for the
di'.ir rhild, for, if I may not go over Jordan with her to d ly, I
wi.'i to go Willi her to the swelling stream." But when the
ppr' ached and her sister started . fetch Miss Fiske,
S.s lied her !)ack, saying : " It is the hour when she pr.^ys

\\ithmyc,. panions ; don't call her. I can die alone." She
had encouraged her father to leave her to preach the glad
tidings of the gospel, and she would not have him Sf t for,
saying *' I can die alone." Miss Fiske writes :

"In my own room (the Bethel) I heard l.jtstr m the
stairs ; the door openc !. and one stood by my ^hk with, the
incssa- ', ' Sarah is asleep.' I was so thankful to be told in

2i6

Cojnci'ratid ]Vomcn.

3s;

this wny, for I knew she was not dead, hut sleeping till Jesus
should say * Arise'

"Sarah was buried that same evening, according to the

custom of the country. I followed her to the grave with the

whole school, and wc laid her very near dear Mrs. Grant.

Will you wonder if I tell you that I trod the way to that grave

in sadness ? The great loss I had sustained seemed to crush

me. I realized that .Sarah would lull) mc no more. And

when I rcaf ' d the place I < ould only look into the grave.

But just as ihc coftin was lowered I looked up, and there was

the bright star of evening; and I seemed to hear a voice

saying, ' Thus your dear child has risen, a bright star in heaven.'

Then 'l was glad she was there ; I was glad that the first to

love the Saviour was the first to go home. I love to think of

her as there, wailing for us who prayed with her on earth.

Her Christian life was a short one, but she did much, for she

taught many how to die."

In the autumn of 1845 Deacon Gewergis had come from the
mountains to bring his eldest daughter, twelve years of age, to
the school. Miss Fiskc, knowing him to be " one of the vilest
of the Ncstorians," very unwillingly received a memi)er of his
family into her house. She was thankful when he departed for
his distant home, for he showed " such supreme selfishness and
avarice " that it was a bad example to those around. When he
returned in February he found the children anxious and praying
for their souls. He ridiculed them, and when his daughter
asked him to go alone with her to pray he laughed at her, and
when he heard her pray " Save my (Either going down to de-
struction " he raised his hand to strike her, but was restrained.
He used afterwards to say " God alone kept mc from it." Miss
Fiske writes of this eventful time :

"Sabbath noon Deacon Mured Khan came to me, and
pleaded with me to go and talk with Deacon Gewergis. I
wanted Mr. Stocking to go, but he said, • You had better go
now; I will sec him afterwards.' So I went to the room where
he was. He was sitting in the only chair in the room. He

1^1 -401 • Vy-fc. >J-J-

ruklia FiJcc.

237

g till Jesus

ing to the

^Q. with the

ilrs. (Irant.

> that grave

:d to crush

lorc. And

the grave,

J there was

Mr a voice

r in l)cavcn.'

the first to

to think of

■r on earth.

uch, for she

me from th?
rs of age, to
of the vilest
mher of his
ileparted for
fishncss and
I. When he
and praying
tis daughter
I at her, and
lown to de-
s restrained,
m it." Miss

to me, and

3cwergi3. I

ad better go

: room where

room. He

i!ul not rise wlien I went in, or even ofTor me a scat ; so I
.siood by his side, and told him I had come to talk with liini
about his soul. He laughed at me, but sail I, * I am safe,' and
lati^hcd yet again. I tncd various ways to reach him, but all
in vain. He opposed every doctrine of the gospel for mure
ill an an hour.

" I was about turning from him, when I seemed to have a
new view of the worth of his soul. I turned to him, took hi.s
!i;uid, and said: "Deacon Gewergis, I 9ce you do not wish me
10 speak with you of your soul. I promise you that I will
never do so again, if you do not wish me to ; but I want you
to make me one promise : when we stand at the bar of God,
.iiiJ you are found on the left hand, as you certainly will be if
you go on in your present course, promise me that you will
tell the assembled universe that, on this twenty-second day of
I'ehruary, 1846, you were told your danger. I leave you, to
pr.iy for you.' I could say no more ; my heart was too full. I
lurned and was about leaving him, when he burst into tears,
AwA said, * My sister, I need this salvation ; I will go and
pray for myself.'

" The hand was withdrawn, and Deacon Gewergis passed
into the nearest room. I could hear a low voice, but I could
not believe that it was prayer. The bell rang for chapel
service. I sent my dear children alone, and I stayed to watch
the praying man. I thought he would probably remain for a
lime, and then steal whatever he could lay his hands on, and
depart. I had no faith ; so there I stayed and watched f'U I
-tLiiied to hear a voice saying, 'What doest thou here, Elijah?'
I was ashamed of myself, and went and found my place in the
'Olemn assembly, where Brother Stoddard was preaching. I
had been there but a few minutes when the door opened very

Lutly. Deacon Gewergis entered ; his gun and dagger were
;one, his turban had fallen over his lace, his hands were r.iscd
10 his eyes, and I could see the big teardrops falling. He

liunbled into the nearest 3eat> and laid his head upon the
i^esk. At the close of the service I asked Mr. Stockin ' if he

2 5«

Consecrated \\\ir,:en.

could sec Deacon Gcwcrgis, for, I said, ' I cannot sec him aj^am
now.' " This good orothcr was ready fur his work. After plead-
ing with the deacon he left him alone, and soon the soul of this
ome degraded man "escaped as a bird out of the snare of the
fowlers." In the morning Mr. Stoddard visited Inm and found
him full of love to Christ. " My great sins, and my great
Saviour " was all he could say. Miss Fiske adds : " I saul to Mr.
Stoddard, ' You will not be deceived by this man.' He looked
mildly upon me, saying, ' My sister, be not faithless but believ-
ing. I asked Mr. S. if he was willing to take th.e deacon home
wiUi him, and take care of him. He replied, ' I shall be but loo
glad to do it.' lUit before noon the man had left for his home,
for he said, ' I must tell my friends and neighbours of sin and
of Christ.' We heard nothing of him for two weeks, when
one of our helpers was sent to find him. He found him in his
own house, surrounded by his friends, telling them of ' sin and
of Christ.' The helper spent the Sabbath with him, and on
Monday they came to Oroomiah. The deacon soon found his
way to my room, and I saw him at once. With tears in his
eyes and hands extended, he approached, saying, ' I know you
did not believe me, but you will love me, will you not ? ' Yes
1 loved him and wondered at my want of faith.

" The June after his hopeful conversion I went with Mr.

Stocking's family to his house in Tergawar. This was the fust

time ladies had been into the mountains. The good deacon

was greatly delighted with this visit; and we then commenced

labours for females there, which we have loved to continue to

the present time. One day we went upon the top of a high

mountain ; the road was rough and difticult of ascent, but the

deacon, as much at home on those steeps as the wild goat,

could not only take care of himself but of others. As he

offered to help us. we said, ' We get on very well.' As he

heard this I saw his eyes filled with tears, and he said, ' You

helped me in a worse way, may I not help you ? ' We were

made willing to be helped.

" The deacon gave himself, from the time of his conversion,

to labour for
mountains. T
countenance, a
sin and of Ch
many times, wi
sack thrown c
among the roc!
ages, cleft for
side he was ei
is a fountain fil
and pointed tl
was called to \

In 1847 Mii
lielper, and fir
writes to her i

" I am mucl
more and mor
come here. 1
and well they
choicest spirits
could not coni
and wept alou
she has seen
heart is as war
freshly to my
thankful that s

We can give
on, with just
sixteen years ;
interest. The
interesting. (
in the mission,
s>aying that he
mission, as he
Si)irit among 1
as if God won

Consecrated Women.

311 Gcwcrgis, for, I said, * I cannot sec him again
)od brother was ready fur his work. After plead-
icon he left hiin alone, and soon the soul of this
man " escaped as a bird out of the snare of the
ic morning Mr. Stoddard visited him and found
c to Christ. " My great sins, and my groat
1 he could say. Miss Fiske adds : " I said to Mr.
I will not be deceived by this man.' He looked
c, saying, * My sister, be not faithless but believ-
dr. S. if he was willing to take th.o deacon home
ake care of him. He replied, ' I shall be but too
But before noon the man had left for his home,
must tell my friends and neighbours of sin and
'e heard nothing of him for two weeks, when
pers was sent to find him. He found him in his
rrounded by his friends, telling them of * sin and
he helper spent the Sabbath with him, and on
came to Oroomiah. The deacon soon found his
om, and I saw him at once. With tears in his
s extended, he approached, saying, ' I know you
e me, but you will love me, will you not ? ' Yes
nd wondered at my want of faith.
J after his hopeful conversion I went with Mr.
lily to his house in Tergawar. Tins was the first
d been into the mountains. The good deacon
dighted with this visit ; and we then comm.enced
iiales there, which we have loved to continue to
me. One day we went upon the top of a high
le road was rough and difftcult of ascent, but the
ich at home on those steeps as the wild goat,
ily take care of himself but of others. As he
■Ip us, we said, ' We get on very well.' As he
saw his eyes tilled with tears, and he said, ' You
n a worse way, may I not help you ? ' We were
to be helped.
;on gave himself, from the time of his conversion,

Fidelia Fiskc,

259

to labour for souls. He loved especially to labour in the
mountains. There was always a tear and a smile on his
countenance, and he was ever ready, as at first, to speak * of
sin and of Christ.' He went through the mountain districts
many times, with his Testament and hymnbook in the knap-
sack thrown over his shoulders. As he entered the passes
among the rocks, he was sure to be found singing, * Rock of
a^cs, cleft for me ' • and when he sat down by the fountain's
side he was ever ready to burst forth with the hymn * There
is a fountain filled with blood.' He warned all whom he met
and pointed them to Christ. After [ten] years of labour he
was called to his rest March 12th, 1856."

In 1S47 ^^iss Rice joined Miss Fiske, and was her devoted
liclper, and finally her successor, in the mission. Miss Fiskc
writes to her mother :

" I am much pleased with my new companioo. I love her
more and more every hour. I feel that she is just the one to
come here. The girls arc delighted with their new teacher,
and well they may be. I do believe she is one of heaven's
choicest spirits. When she told me about her visit to you I
could not control my feelings. I laid my head on her shoulder
and wept aloud. Oh, it is such a comfort to me to think that
she has seen you 1 I have not forgotten to love you. My
heart is as warm as ever, and nothing has brought you more
freshly to my mind than seeing this dear sister. 1 am very
thankful tliat she was able to see you."

We can give no detailed account of the work which went
on, with just the interruption of the summer vacations, for
sixteen years ; but we must refer to a few points of special
interest. The origin of the revival in 1849 is particularly
interesting. On the 20th of December, John, a native helper
in the mission, came before it was light to Miss Fiske's room,
saying that he could not sleep from distress at the state of tliC
mission, as he felt that they needed the presence of the Holy
Spirit amon>r them.. He added. "When I am prayinc^, I feci
as if God would come among us."

26o

Consecrated W^ouicn.

To the teachers at Mount Ilolyokc Miss Fiskc writes of
this native :

** For clays his head was bowed down as a buhiisli, and he
was mourning over his backsliding. He dwelt on his wan-
derings so much that, on being asked one day by one of the
brethren, what he was doing, he rephed in his imperfcd
Mnglish, 'I am studying backsliding; and oh, sir, I love it
very much ! * His meaning was not that he loveil backslidiiv^
but that he loved to get back to his God. His own quickening
was followed by earnest desires for the salvation of others ;
and all within his reach were earnestly besought to be up and
pre])aring the way of the Lord."

'I'he distinctive feature, in tliis revival, was the distress for
sin which those passed through who had been looked upon as
"hopefully pious." After deep searching of heart these dedi-
cated themstlves afresh to the Lord's service and were very
helpful in working among the incjuirers. During this time Miss
Fiske had to part with three girls from the distant mountains.
Their parents had escaped to the plain in the dreadful
massacre of 1843, and the girls had been taken into the
seminary. They improved quickly in manners and know-
ledge, and when the time came for their dei)arture appeared
to be established Christians. The parting from their friends
at the school was most touching. It is very interesting to
learn that " years afterwards they were found by the native
j)rcachers, with the love of Christ still burning in their hearts,
ready to welcome and assist them in their missionary labours."

At the close of this term the first public examination was
held ; about two hundred guests, parents, etc., coming to sec
what had been accomplished. The pupils were examined in
ancient and modern Syriac, Bible history, geography and
natural i)hilosophy, and were found to be well grounded in
these subjects. Useful employments for the hands were not
overlooked ; the rei)ort goes on to tell us that the scholars
" cut out and make all their own clothing, and do considerable
sewing and huitlinj for others. They carr.ed about six doll.irs

Fidelia Fiske.

261

Fiske writes of

in this wAy last year, which they will devote to some bene-
volent object. It will be seen that they can have but few idle
moments, when it is known that they knit more than a hundred
Irairs of stockings and gloves, in their recreation hours, during
the winter term. Our pupils now furnish their own clothing
in part. This, with the greater economy of the girls in
domestic management, and saving the hire of help, enables us
to reduce the expenses of each pupil to about eighteen dollars
a year. This sum includes rent, repairs, board, clothing in
part, fuel, lights, etc."

One great encouragement in the work was the postpone-
ment of the marriages till the girls were seventeen or even
nineteen years of age. This of course grew out of the value
f<.it by the natives for the instruction given. One girl would
li.ue her marriage day fixed only by the teachers of the male
seminary, saying that when they decided that )\tx fiance " had
studied enough she was ready."

>rany of these young married Christians became lights in
tliiir homes ; Miss Fi.ske writes of one of her girls :

" .MoiLssa, one of our older pupils, was to-day betrothed.
Wlicn the time came for placing the ring, which is the seal of
the engagement, upon her finger, she was not to be found.
The house was searched, and in its remotest closet her plaint-
ive voice was heard pleading for the blessing of the Holy One
on what she was about to do. The company who had assem-
bled were long detained, but were deeply interested in thinking
that a child of prayer was to be added to their family. It was
a tlay, nut of customary mirth, but of deep and holy feeling.
May we not hope that she, and the youth of her choice, will
indeed be blessed? Only those who have seen the rioting and
luily common on such occasions can realize what were our
feelings in view of such an engagement, begun and ended with
fervent prvayer.'

The change from wild, boisterous, untutored girls, given to
ivmg and bteuliag, to quiet, matured. Christian women, is
evidenced by the words of some of these during their last hours

232

Consecrated M'oincn.

J' ■ "»v

^iwiiiini

of iiitcrcoiirce with their beloved friend. It was in 1S59;
many had come from distant homes to tlie ^^ay communion.
It was a time of deep feeHng to Miss Fiske when in a room
at the seminary she gathered around her those for whose
temporal and spiritual welfare she had laboured and prayed
years before. We will give her own words :

" After singing, I said it would be pleasant to have them tell
of their joys and sorrows in the Christian life, and then together
to carry them to Christ. Hardly a moment passed before
Khancc, one of the two little girls first received into my school,
spoke. She had recently buried her only child, and with a full
heart said, raising her arms as if still holding her little one —

" Sisters, four months ago, you saw me here with my babe
in my arms. It is not here now. I have laid it into Jesus'
arms, I have come to-day to tell you that there is a sweet,
as well as a bitter, in affliction. When the rod is laid upon
us, let us not only kiss it but press it lo ot\r lips. When I
stood by that little open grave, I said : ' All the time I have
given to my babe I will give to souls. I have tried to do so,
J'ray for me that I may be faithful.'

" We had all followed the dear sister in what she said, and
were all weeping. I could only say, 'Who will pray ? ' Sanum
(whose children were poisoned), understanding well the bereaved
mother's feelings, knelt at once, and carried us to the Saviour,
who surely wept with us. I can never forget how she prayed
for bereaved mothers, nor how she pleaded for those still
folding their little ones in their arms. As we followed her
in her earnest entreaties there was perfect silence, except as
the sweet voice of her own little babe seemed sometimes to
add to the tenderness of the petitions. A child in heaven !
what a treasure ! And what a blessing that the heart may be
there also. As we arose we saw that Nazloo, who had just
come from the banks ot Jordan, had a word for us. It was
this : ' Sisters, I have just come back from the grave's brink,
I am here to-day, to tell you that it is a very different thi

to be a Christian in this pleasant schoolroom, from what it is

Fidelia Fisl-e.

263

was in 1S59;
ly communion.
iVhcn in a room
lose for whose
ed and prayed

I have them tell
d then together

passed before
into my school,

and with a full
:r little one —
e with my bahe
id it into Jesus'
here is a sweet,
od is laid upon

lips. When I
the time I have

tried to do so.

It she said, and
)ray ? ' Sanuni
ell the bereaved
to the Saviour,
low she prayed
for those still
c followed her
;nce, except as

sometimes to
lild in heaven !

heart may be
, who had just
for us. 1 1 was

grave's brink.

different thing
from what it is

when standing with one foot in the grave. Let us all examine
and sec if our hopes will stand in the hour of death.' A
tender prayer followed, in which it seemed that all must join
in the petition 'Search us and try us.'

'The next to speak was one of our early pupils. She had
rome many miles that day, and said : 'Sisters, I could think
i)f hut one thing all the way this morning, " Freely ye have
received, freely give." We have certainly received freely, have
we given anything ? Can we not do something for souls ? ' "

The disease which was eventually to terminate her earthly
labours had begun to show itself in Fidelia Fiskc. She fondly
li )ped that a visit to her native land would give her new vigour
I) work in Persia. Ui)held by this hope she took leave of
iliose who were bound to her heart by very tender ties, and
(Ici)arted to the United States, followed by many prayers and
many blessings. One of her scholars writing to her after her
departure says : "I think of the time when you used to throw
\Mur arms about my neck and entreat me to be a lover of the
Lord.' Another writes ; "esie::ially do I remember how you
used to speak of the love, the measure of which no creature
ran reach. We miss you greatly ; but the Lord Jesus has
heen the gardener of our school, He has crjuie down and
watered it witli heavenly rain."

Two of her pupils, now women, wrote to Miss Fiskc's
niuiher :

"She taught us what Christ was. She used to go often to
some of die large villages, visiting from house to house, espc-
( lally to comfort the poor women. She would sit down by
the wheel a few minutes, and show them that as the body has
\\^<i(\ of food and raiment, so also the soul has wants which
iinist be met, needing for its clothing the garment of Christ's
i:.;hteousness and for its food the hidden manna. She would
also sii at the looms of the boys and young men, and weave a
Utle, drawing their thouglUs upward by her excellent skill in
\Vi\wiy ways, and tlien sl:c uoulu pray with them. After her
\isits to the houses she would not spare herself the melting

264

Consecrated Wcmcn.

heats of summer, but would go into the fields to the women
weeding cotton, and converse with them there.

" If she saw a fault in us (which often happened) she did
not reprove us suddenly and with severity, but, although very
sad and in tears, she waited, meanwhile asking help of her
Father in heaven; then, with words gentle but penetrating
and awakening, she talked with us till our hearts melted like
wax; then, in the ardour of her love, she knelt with us, com-
mitting us to the counsel and guidance of God. There was
no heart tliat would not melt before the fire of her love, unless
it were one entirely overcome by Satan."

Once more in the old home Miss Fiske found herself warmly
welcomed. At the chapel on the first Sabbath after her
arrival "old people threw their arms around her neck and
wept ; young men and young women, who had been children
when she left them, asked with eager love, • Can you remember
such a little girl or such a boy ? ' "

The Bible classes in her native place begged each to have
a visit from lier, and all in succession received the blessing of
her prayerful teachings.

We must not linger over the manifold interests of the next
three years. In weariness, and often in suffering, she was yet
full of brightness and zeal, and many of very different positions
and ages felt the stimulating effect of her faithful wordc and
holy living. At Mount Holyoke and at other seminaries
young ladies looked upon her visit as the " starting point to
a higher Christian life." Gatherings were invited to meet her
in drawing-rooms, and great was the interest awakened both
\\\ the cause of missions and in real spiritual religion by her
*' talks." Among those who received a rich blessing were
people living only for this world, who had been att.'-actcd to
hear her. Sometimes the private rooms were too small, and
she was invited io address large gatherings in schoolrooms or
churches. This was a severe trial to her, and she would
si>end iiah' the night in prayer previously to these meetings.
Her rule was " never to speak of her missionary work unless

Fidelia Fiske.

26'

5 to the women

)cncd) she did
although very
g help of her
)Ut penetrating
irts melted like
t with us, com-
)J. There was
lier love, unless

herself warmly
bath after her
her neck and
been children
you remember

\ each to have
he blessing of

its of the next
ig, she was yet
erent positions
ful words and
ler seminaries
irting point to
:d to meet her
wakened both
eligion by her
blessing were
ti attracted to
00 small, and
;hoolrooms or
d she would
lese meetings,
•y work unless

urged to do so by judicious friends." Among her other en-
gagements she found time to prepare the materials for a work
which was edited by one of her friends. It is entitled, "Woman
and her Saviour in Persia." She also undertook the com-
niemoiative volume of the "twenty-seventh anniversary of
Mount Holyoke Seminary," and gathered together her recol-
lections of Mary Lyon.i Positions of high usefulness were
offered her, but her heart was in Persia, and she waited to see
if the guiding Hand would point to her return. But it was
otherwise ordered ; and when hope of resuming her work there
was fading, she accepted the post which had long been pressed
upon her, turning her steps towards Mount Hulyoke to take
the oversight of the three hundred pupils assembled there.
1 Ills was in the autumn of 1S63. Two teachers being absent.
Miss Fiske soon expended her remaining physic J strength in
lier labours at the seminary. After January she could seldom
mingle in the family, but even then her room became the
centre of blessing to the teachers and pupils who singly or in
groups went there to pray and to receive the instruction she
was so well (jualified to give. Towards the end of the term
there was much awakening in the school and many tokens of
encouragement. Miss Fiske was al)le to attend some of the
Iiriyer-meetings. She writes : *' March nth. It seems certain
that I cannot v^^ '^o Oroomiah this spring. I do not doubt my
Father's wisdom " . not giving me the health for it. I have
been very thankful to be here and see the harvest gathered
in.' Even in the midst of die biiStie of preparing for starting
home, the different parties of scholars met together for prayer.
i'iU the carriages came to ti.e d?or tney remained praying.
Miss Fiske says, "It seemed so nuch like other years, just
Ike that F^astern home." Fler work was nearly done, and she
^')ught the dear Shelbourne home to die there. 'I'hc suffering
was often severe, and increased by any mental or i)hysical
exertion, yet siie wrote letters of "counsel and comfort" to

]<i

Mary I.yon : Recollections of a Noble Woman." Murgan & Scott.

266

Consecrated Women.

^ gfi%

U«i

fifc

■

her friends. Jn one, addressed to a mission nry starting for
Persia, she says :

"You know that you bear to those dear friends in Oroomiah
the love and deepest interest of my heart. They will ask, as
they have often done, 'Why does she delay her coming?' and
they will henceforth ask this very gently if my letters have
heli)ed them to understand how I long to be with them. If a
sea voyage would take me there, I should not be slow in de-
tiding to go to them. If I could not work I could look upon
those dear children again, and ask them to hold in remem-
brance the one way to our * home,' when I shall have gone
from them. Those dear native friends, how my heart goes
out toward them ! May you be spared to meet them and
bless them in the name of the Lord ! . . . \Ve were
blessed with the 'early rain,' and my prayer is that in the
•latter rain' you may fmd a yet richer blessing."

'J'lic nervous prostration was very distressing, and if any
word which savoured of impatience escaped her lips the poor
sufferer would weep over it. But as the time for her departure
drew near she seemed lifted above the pain. "As I grow
weaker," she said, " I think less of pain, and feel more my
Saviour's arms about me, and it is sweet to feel them." On
her last Sabbath on earth she asked to have copies of "Im-
manuel's Land " laid upon her table to give one to each visitor.
To the teachers and pupils at Mount Molyoke she dictated a
message ending with these words, " Live for Christ ; in so
doing we shall all be blessed, in time and in eternity."

It was on July 26th, 1864, that the end came; and while a
minister, who had called in the early morning, was praying
with her, at her own request, the redeemed spirit of Fidelia
Fiske entered upon the eternal "summer morn,"

•' [Wlicic] to an ocean fulness
His niv^rcy dotli expand,
And glorj— glory dwelleth
In IninianiK.r.s land."

''JIOLY IN ALL MANNER OF CONVERSATION:*

ADELAIDE L. NEWTON.

Rcnotincitig rcery worUiy t/iing,
Sir/i', math the covert of Thy ^ving
My sweetest thought heneeforth shall /r,
That all 1 7vant I find in Thee,
In Thee, my God, in Thee I

Translated from the Freneh of

J. F. OCERLI.V.

i»

'. i

2*^

Ui.^

"A nooK came into my hands which interested me greatly This
I read and re-read, and n.ade an abstract cf it. It w.Vs the 'lie

t'lnf th ". V^^"^'"";', ''''''' ^^^"^^ •- '" '' - nnah wal o fid

:'ns of f^nir" f :'''.'''' ^^^'^^^^^ communion with ciod by

incan. of a Liblo c.nly. Is ,t possible, I thon^du, to have such cl^.se

«unu,n w.th Cod. apart Hon. the Chu;;h'and h^r n ^^ ."

ons? Ido nut hesitate to say that this was the me ins und..

XI.

AI)i- LAIDIC L. NEWT0N7
Born 18-; }. Dild 1854.

ADELAIDE LEAPER NEWTUX was bom at Leylands,
near Derby, ill 1824. Very brk-ht wt • the first jc.irs
ut her hfe, s])eiit in a beautiful hon .ninded by every

earthly luxury, where she iiad full opix for the develop-

iiKiu of iier talents and tastes. She ^\ .cry fond of music,
and "her peculiarly sweet touch in ^ aying and voice in
Mnging '• gave a great charm to her music. She was particularly
'luick in acquiring languages, and in early life studied several
modern I .iguesj while, later, Greek and Hebrew were her
delight, assisting her to derive deeper instruction from the
I! )ok which in after years was the main companion of her
';..-'. da\s.

Naturally graceful and attractive she was always modest, and
never appeared to be spoiled by the praises whic h her powers
Mv\ acquirements called forth. Long after, she writes of this
period of her life : "my heart naturally clung very much to the
\\->rM. Music was my great snare. I took infinite pains to
ll-iy well, and delighted secretly in the commendation I got
whenever I played before any one. Fancy now its being
i-early four years since I have toucl.al either piano or organ.
And my singing, which I had once even more reason to be
satisfied with, is probably for ev* silenced. You cannot think
how I thank God from my h art that He would not let me

l-.um the " M.muirof A-lclai-Ie L. Ncuion," by John U.uluc, UU
' N i.'!jct iV Cu. l)y pcnuiasiun of the Aulhor.

the Author.

■#j

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_^ . 16S3 tast Main Street

— -^ Rochester. New York 14609 USA

::= (716) 482- OJOO- Phone

= (716) 288 - 5989 - Fa«

270

Consecrated Women

gi-vilify the secret pride which was lurking in it, and which was
stcahng my love from Him."

Carefully brought up by Christian parents, Adelaide delighted
in the times of religious instruction and as a child showed
much thoughtfulness. When about eleven years old the words
of a visitor impressed her and some of the other members of
the family, and they read eagerly such books as Doddridge's
" Rise and Progress," Fletcher's " Address," and at one time
several of them "each unknown to the other used to spend
many solitary hours in devotional reading and in prayer."

But in these exercises Adelaide did not find the rest she
desired.- The winter of 1838-9 was to her a time of much
depression and misery. She writes : " There is something within,
which keeps me from enjoying perfect peace. If I could
once be sure that I am justified, then all would be right. I
wish, more and more, every day, to see some clergyman who
would tell me what he thought of me. Still, I can hardly think
that God would have brought me so far to put me to shame."

The rest of soul came at last, as so often it does, througli
the teaching of one outside the family circle. One morning at
Lcylands Dr. H. M'Neile at family worship read the third of
Colossians, selecting the first verse, " If ye then be risen with
Christ," etc., urging the necessity of making sure of this
starting point, setting forth Christ and His resurrection life as
the sinner's immediate privilege, and closing with an appeal on
the duty of instant decision for Christ. The message went
straight to Adelaide's heart. '-'The words," says her sister,
" were used effectually by the Holy Spirit to decide her to be
the Lord's."

And, thus deciding, she entered into the peace of believing
and went forward upon the highway of holiness.

" How did I know," she writes some time afterwards in
reference to this period, "that my sins were all washed away?
Because I was trusting simply to the finished work of Christ,
and was not waiting until I had done anything to evidence it.
"What we do^ as Christians, proves whose we arc in the eyes of

and which was

ilaide dehghted
I child showed
s old the words
ler members of
as Doddridge's
nd at one time
used to spend
1 prayer."
id the rest she
, time of much
mething within,
e. If I could
lid be right. I
clergyman who
;an hardly think
me to shame."
t does, through
One morning at
:ad the third of
n be risen with
g sure of this
urrection life as
th an appeal on
I message went
says her sister,
>ecide her to be

ice of believing

le afterwards in

[ washed away ?

work of Christ,

to evidence it.

irc /// //i£ O'cs of

Aiic/aide L. Neiulon,

271

the 7aor/ii {McLit. vii. 16-20) ; but the grand question with us is,
wiiose we are /// the sight of God; and that depends entirely
on our acceptance of the finished work of Christ. Union with
Christ makes us Christians ; and that should be the test u>hose
7iV any

After this change Adelaide's closing years at school were
full of influence for good on those around. A friend v/iio
knew her well thus writes of her : " Her love to Jesus was her
animating principle, and the very joy of her heart. To load
her young companions to Him was her grand aim. Her
v.inning cheerfulness made the young see hov/ happy Jesus
could make them. Every girl loved her, some most de-
voiedly."

In 1842 she visited Ireland and left behind her the savour
of a holy life. One who met her then writes thirteen years
after : " I can well remember how m.uch we were both struck
by her deep spiritualiiy, the very enlarged range of her in-
tellectual powers, the chastened tone of her mind, and the
exciuisite modesty and simplicity of her manners and character.
We were not less delighted with the warmth of her zeal for
the enlightenment of the poor Irish people."

Evidently living near to the Lord, many friends and old
schoolfellows sought Adelaide's counsel in their spiritual
difficulties. To one she writes : " In one sense all conformity
to the world is forbidden. We could not have stronger
language than St. Paul's, * Come out, and be separate, and
touch not the unclean thing.' But then he has balanced tiiat
extreme by telling us, on the other hand, that if we kept no
company with ungodly people we * must needs go out of the
world.' And so far from this being intended, we are expressly
commanded to be ' blameless and harmless, the sons of God
without rebuke, in the midbt of a crooked and perverse nation,
among whom ye shine as lights in the world.' Again, we fmd
Jesus when on earth accepting an invitation to a wedding
feast (John ii.) ; and He dined with a Pharisee (Luke vii.), who
most certainly was a man of the world. And don't you think

272

Consecrated Women,

lie is as much our example in tliesc things as in visiting tlie
[loor, and in relieving the sick and needy ? "

To another : "I think tlie love of the world may show itseit
very differently in different persons, and that no one can
altogether judge for another, whether they are indulging it in
what they do, or not. But I believe conscience tells each
child of God in secret. I dare not decidedly judge for you,
oven in my own mind, how far you may rightly go into the
world ; but I feel sure that if you honestly seek direction
from God, you will certainly get it. My desire for you is that
you may walk as Jesus walked. I don't think we can aim too
high. Let your standard be to be like Him."

" I hope," she adds, ** you will not think me severe upon
you in anything I have said ; for you cannot think how I feel
for you. My natural heart was so fond of the same worldliness,
though in a different way. I struggled for months, or I may
say' years, between God and the world ; but never did I
enjoy peace or happiness the whole time. No one knew what
I endured. May you be spared the bitter conflict, and choose
the better part at once and unreser\ edly 1

" Dead to the world, we dream no more
Of cavtlily pleasures now ;
Our deep, Divine, unfailing spring
Of grace and glory, Thou ! "

Adelaide had to give up some of the prized companions of
other days because her path and theirs diverge*"' Out as she
wont on in her Christian course she made many r friendships
both among rich and poor.

In iS43she commenced teaching in the sabbath school, and
her life became full of unwearied activity for others in her
class and in her districts. She was richly blessed in her
different departments of work, the secret of her success being
the completeness of her surrender ?nd the spirit of prayer in
which she continually abode.

One day her sister assisted her in taking books and tracts
from hou^e to house in the district. " Noticing how long she

in visiting the

may show itscit
ac no one can

indulging it in
2nce tells each
• judge for you,
itly go into the

seek direction
: for you is that
WQ can aim too

le severe upon
link how I feel
imc worldlincss,
nths, or I may
t never did I
one knew what
lict, and choose

companions of
s*"' but as she
r friendships

lath school, and
r others in her
blessed in her
:r success being
rit of prayer in

Doks and tracts
g how long she

Aciciciidc L. Ncivton.

had waited at the different doors before going in, I asked her,
as we were walking home, ' Do you always wait, when you
knock at a door, till they open it ? ' ' No,' was her reply, ' but
I always like to wait a moment, before I knock, to ask for the
Holy Sj)irit to be with my mouth and teach me what to say
in each house.' I have often thought of it since," her sister
;;dds, " and have attributed to it her wonderful success among
the poor whom she visited."

Adelaide Newton worked as if she knew that the tinie for
active service would not be long. One day in June, 1846, after
many hours spent in house to house visitation, she hastened
home, became over heated, and took a chill. From this time
blie was more or less an invalid to the day of her death ei-dit
years later.

Writing from Malvern, whither she had gone for change at
this time, she says : " You ask about my health, I am not
well, but not ill. A troublesome cough has got me at last into
the doctor's hands. He has ordered me to the seaside, where
I may get my constitution strengthened and have no temptation
to work as I was doing at home. He has r^sitively forbidden
me to go into crowded rooms, Sunday schools, etc., or to sit
in the open air. I have had appliances to my chest ; and I
hope, in time, to be either restored to health again, or to go
where pain and sin are known no more, to that perfect * rest
^\!■iich remaineth.' My times are in His hands."

Resting in this belief Adelaide Newton entered upon this
new experience with courage, and found fresh avenues for
us^lu ..^ss which her active life would probably never have
developed. She found also that the comparative seclusion
of an invalid is in no manner beyond the reach of tempta-
tion. It is a fallacy often fallen into by those in the storm
and battle of life to believe that in the absence of outward
noise and bustle is necessarily a quiet resting place. The nun
in her eel! knows very well that her tempter lias only shifted
liis ground. He is quite capable of adapting his wiles to every
\ariety ol situation and every phase of character. From her

274

Consecrated Women.

tfiMM

quiet lodging at Torquay where she spent several winters, or
from the pleasant apartments devoted to the invalid at home,
Adelaide Newton sent forth words of wise counsel and tender
sympathy and strong encouragement, by means of letters to her
friends and by her published works, to those who were in the
rough paths of the everyday battle of li(e and ^o those also
who like herself were called aside to rest from active labour.

Two works specially engaged her attention, and her delight
in " digging out " thoughts from the Scriptures in the original
languages was very great. Her first published book ^ was the
Song of Solomon compared with other parts of Scripture. A
thought which she specially desired to bring out in connection
with Canticles was that " repeated declensions cause greater
and more lengthened seasons of distance from the Lord, and
He does not so immediately give the renewed sense of His
presence."

When this book was completed she was encouraged to
compare the Epistle to the Hebrews with the Old Testament
The preparation of this volume ^ was a source of deep interest
to her, and during the last months of her life she laboured
diligendy to complete it. " Hebrews has shown me so much
what sin is, by what it cost ; I owe it so much," were her words
one day when this testimony for her Lord was nearly finished.

But the Lord taught her through her literary labours that
her pen, which early on she had consecrated to Him, was in
His keeping. " I cannot do Hebrews," she tells us at one time,
*' I am so humbled over it still. I seem to have no power to
touch it. How dependent we are upon God, are we not ? I
have not a word to say till He opens my lips, and I feel as if
He had laid me down with my face on the ground, and as if I
must wait till His hand touched me and set me on my feet
again. It is worse than useless to try to do anything in my
own weakness (I need not call it strength)."

The hicnd (the Hon. Mrs. C ) with whom Adelaide

^ These volumes are published by Nisbct & Co.

Adc 'itde L. Newton.

275

'cral winters, or
nvalid at home,
nsel and tender
of letters to her
vho were in the
d cO those also
active labour,
and her delight
s in the original
booki was the
f Scripture A
at in connection
s cause greater
I the Lord, and
^d sense of His

encouraged to
Old Testament.
of deep interest
fe she laboured
vvn me so much
were her words
nearly finished,
iry labours that
:o Him, was in
s us at one time,
^'e no power to
are we not ? I
and I feel as if
unci, and as if I
me on my feet
anything in my

ivhom Adelaide
&Co.

most intimately com.iuned concerning the thoughts which the
Si>irit opened up to her, thus writes of her. "How 1 should
like her portrait with her open Bible in her hands, as it always
u,cd to be, and all the energies of her penetrating nu'nd digging
deej) for its unsearchable riches, now bringing up a bit of the
precious ore witli such delight as another bright addition to
iicr store, and now surveying with increasing joy all she had
already got. . . . The study of Jesus, His thouiW^' as
perfect man. His mind as God, occupied her almost continually;
and so richly was she repaid in these researches that there
were seasons when her soul was so fdlcd with adoration at the
discoveries opened up to licr, that for a time they seemed to
extinguish temptation and leave her free to delight herself in
God. Then again there was a reverse side to this picture,
when this very study would open the floodgates of temptation
and raise strong conflicts within. She could not bear to feel
she had any thought which did not seem to harmonize perfectly
with the mind of Him she worshipped. . . . Her spirit
could find no rest when she found herself in a state only to
acquiesce in any word of God : she wanted to go along with it;
and if the hindrance to her doing so arose from imperfectly
understanding it she ceased not to ask, to knock, to seek !
Oh, how diligently did she spread her sails, how patiently
did she wait for the precious gales of the Spirit, to carry her
into that Presence without which existence was really a bur-
den to her ! "

The help she gathered from her Bible is illustrated by the
following extracts from letters :

" Deuteronomy strikes me most as the book which instructs
the true Israel of God as to their condition * in the land.' I
take it to be a stage beyond the wilderness, beyond even the
conquests of the book of Joshua. It is not the first takin^
possession so much as the unflinching yielding up of the whole
heart and life to God in after experience. It does so condemn

me, dearest , from page to page, that I almost shrink from

sa\ing what I seem to see in it : nought of the 'cursed thing.

2/6

Consecrated Women,

(^•■%ji

cleaving to one's hand ; the cities of the enemy burnt to the
ground, and all the spoil, every whit ; the diligen*- careful hear-
kening to God's words, and the holy obedience and truthfulness
required ; and then, too, the rejoicing even before the Lord, and
the intense holiness which the whole atmosphere of the entire
book seems to breathe. Altogether it makes one breathless, if
you understand me, to be in so pure an air. I think it is not
studied by Christians as it deserves. We should be saved out
of such mixture with the unholy and unclean if we saw our true
standing in the land."

Again she says : " I have been struck to-day with Mark vl.
48. Jesus looking on whilst His disciples were * toiling in
rowing ' on the sea, and He Himself was on the land ; and,
though He saw them, yet He went not to them until the fourth
watch of the night. And even then He would have passed by
them. Don't you think we may gather from incidental remarks
of this kind how much less our mere enjoyment or relief from
trouble is His object than it is ours ? His thoughts are so very
much higher than ours in all these ways. He seems so often
to be represented as looking on while His people are suffering,
yet not bringing relief for some time, like Israel in Egypt, * I
liave seen, I have seen.' It has occurred to me lately that
these words could almost convey the impression that His own
heart of love had been wrung with anguish with what He had
seen (if one may speak of Him in language so human), as if
He could not speak strongly enough of what He had seen.
And yet how long it was after that ere they were finally rescued!
It often wants David's kind of waiting in * waiting,' does it not?
(Ps. xl. I, margin.) But they who wait on Him shall not be
ashamed."

" I have been looking out all the different meanings to the
Hebrew words for prayer, and have found nearly thirty, each
hcTving some rather different idea attached to it. One, for in-
stance, signifies *a low, whispering sound' (see Isa. xxvi. 16,
margin 'secret speech'); another, 'words set in order before
God, like the shewbread' (as in Ps. v. 3, 'in the morning will

Adelaide L. Newton,

277

iiy burnt to the
m* careful hear-
and truthfulness
ire the Lord, and
re of the entire
)ne breathless, if
I think it is not
jld be saved out
: we saw our true

ly with Mark vl,
were * toiling in

the land; and,
1 until the fourth
1 have passed by
cidental remarks
It or relief from
ughts are so very

seems so often
pie are suffering,
lel in Egypt, *I
) me lately that
)n that His own
h what He had
D human), as if
.t He had seen,
e finally rescued!
.ing,' does it not?
[im shall not be

meanings to the
arly thirty, each
it. One, for in-
ee Isa. xxvi. 16,
in order before
he morning will

I direct my prayer unto 'J'hee, and will look up'); there is
a'M) the pouring out of the soul like h.piids; and there is tiie
(Opening of the heart, like a cloud of incense expanding itself,
ti< ., etc. ; all showing, I think, most wonderfully the minute
ncss with which God has taught us how well H i knows all ou/
varied ways of approaching llim."

'•I must tell you," she writes again, "a word wliich was
lighted up to me the other day by what you call

' The liglit of alllictiou's fire,'

It was a dark night season with me, through some painful out-
ward circumstances; and oh, how exquisite that word of Jesus
did seem to me, ' I am the bright and morning star.' I looked
to the Greek word, and found it defined * lustrous, dazzling,
winning, resplendent ' ; the very darkness added to its brilliancy.
And is it not so with Jesus ? "

Delighting often in communion with her Lord, and feasting on
Ills thoughts, she much enjoyed conversation with Christians
when tliey could enter fully into fellowship with her.

Sometimes she was so much absorbed in communion with
Him that she seemed hardly able to take part in ordinary con-
versation with those around, once remarking to her most inti-
mate friend, " While they are talking I am occupied with sing-
ing and making melody to the Lord in my heart. I can talk
lo Him, and I can hear His ' still small voice.' "

Not that she was unsocial. To those who sought her sym-
pathy in spiritual or other troubles her warm heart was ' ■ er
I 'pen to take them in, and to many her written or spoken
words brought solace and strength.

During one winter at Torquay Adelaide's sister had to leave
licr, and she passed six weeks in a select boarding house.
There her words, but specially the influence of her daily life,
were blessed to five of that little circle, who testified afterwards
that they owed their entrance upun a new life to Adelaide
Newton's instrumentality. Yet of this season she writes that
she felt deeply her inability to speak "to these people," but

27S

Coiisccralcd Women.

v^ift*

prayed that** God may use her to say wiuU lie wants said
to them."

I'luclualions, both physical and mental, were her portion ;
and they were one means of enabling her to understand and to
sympathise with the varied trials of other invalids. Sometimes
she was well enough to visit her friends ; at other times, when
those around her thought her strength returning, she was keep-
ing up at severe cost to herself, and her sufferings from weari-
ness and restlessness were ofien great. During the springs
of 1850 and 1S51 the mildness of the seasons allowed her to
remain at home, and during the latter of these she was much
the companion of her father's last days. As he faded, her
tender loving heart was wrung with the prospect of the parting
before them. When however the end had come, she entered
so into his joy that she felt the "real trial" was "to be left
behind."

At another time, after *• a most dreary and desolate day " in
the early part of her illness, she writes : " A thought on Genesis
xxi.K. 20 has made me feel quite ashamed of being in such a
hurry to die. If years of service seemed so little to Jacob for
the love he had to Rachel, what ought they to seem to us for
Christ?"

Ever since visiting Ireland Adelaide had collected for and
supported one or more missionaries in that country, and her
heart was ever interested for the spiritually destitute there.
Sometimes, when her mental work was too much for her
head, she would turn with pleasure to oil painting, in which
she excelled. The proceeds of the paintings were devoted to
the Lord s work in Ireland and elsewhere. She writes : "I
have been painting in oils a little lately, for a rest to my too
active head, which cannot bear such constant thought. Yet it
is very, very tempting, to be always mentally at work." And
another day : " I have actually spent seven whole days on oil
painting, which I fmd easier to rnc iluui water colours. The
first day I painted one pretty little picture of the Garden of
Gcthsemane. Then I did the Sinaitic inscriptions, which took

1^1

It He wants said

a'le licr iioition ;
inderstand and to
lids. Sometimes
itlier times, when
ng, she was keep-
ings from wcari-
iiring the springs
ns allowed her to
e she was much
Vs he faded, her
set of the i)arting
Dmc, she entered
was " to be left

desolate day " in
ought on Genesis
being in such a
ttlc to Jacob for
• seem to us for

collected for and
country, and her
' destitute there,
•o much for her
ainting, in wliich
were devoted to
She writes : "I
rest to my too
thought. Yet it
at work." And
hole days on oil
cr colours. The
f the Garden of
tions, which took

Adelaide L. Newton.

279

two days ; and I have done two others since. If I can only
paint without self gratification and self exaltation, I think the
talent may be turned to account."

\Ve may here introduce a beautiful picture of Adelaide New-
ton from the pen of Canon Stowell.

" Seldom or never has it been my happiness to sec the mighty
power of grace so marvellously manifested as m her. She
seemed to dwell in the vestibule of heaven, to live on the steps
of the throne of grace. The vigour of her understanding, the
acutcness of her judgment, the force of her reasoning, the ori-
ginality of her ideas, and the beauty of her style, astonished
me. You could not converse with her without being charmed
with tho freshness, the vividness, the activity, the refinement
of her mind. The spring of all was love to her Saviour, intense
desire to glorify His name. This strung up all her energies ;
this animated all her pursuits. Grace changed the whole tone
of her character. From the flexible, tasteful, buoyant girl, she
rose into the earnest, elevated, reflective woman ; yet all was
artless and easy, clothed with humility, and adorned with sim-
plicity. . . . She lived on and in the Bible. It savoured
every sentiment and toned every thought of her soul. She
caught the faintest whisper and analysed the minutest expres-
sions of * the lively oracles.' The Scriptures were wrought
into the very texture of her inner life ; she fed upon them in
her heart. Hence the newness, the unction, the savouriness of
her writings. . . . Flesh and blood had not taught her,
but the Spirit of her Father in heaven. In all she wrote and
said and did, to glorify Christ was her single aim. This desire
was as a fire in her bones ; hr'- zeal was ever burning. Nor
was the light of her joy less r iiarkable. Whilst most humble
slie was most assured. Doubt seemed never allowed to over-
shadow her soul, anxiety to disquiet it. When you entered her
chamber you felt that she was enveloped in an atmosphere of
heavenliness and peace. When slic mingled with the family
circle she seemed like ths denizen of a higher world come down
en some errand of love."

,5t

!8o

Consecrated It 'omen.

*'.^it«l

IJiil our readers will not bo fully ac.]uaintcd with Adelaide
Newton without perusing a {c^s more of her cxi)eriences and
nitnesLs ami ihou,i;hts, from her own pen. We can, Jiowever,
only devote a small space to these interesting' records.

'J'iie following extracts from letters will doubtless encoiuagc
some of the deeply tried ones who arc ready to think that no
borrow is like unto their sorrow.

I'eb. 22, 1847. "I never remember to have endured more
intense pam tiian during the last fortnight ; and, the last day
or two, mental anguish has aggravated bodily suffering to a
degree I never at all understood before. I have no doubt that
Satan took advantage of the state of extreme weakness I was
reduced to, to make his temptations the more effectual ; but
stronger is He that is in us than he that is against us, blessed
be Cod ! And I delight to tell you, for your own encourage-
ment, that yesterday, in the midst of such mental darkness and
bodily pain, I still felt the assurance that Cod was the same
unchanged Cod as when I was able to feel Ilim precious to
me. 1 could not help thinking that it might be in answer to a
prayer I have often j.rayed with trembling, 'that I might know
Ihm and the fellowship of His sufferings,' that I was made to
taste of the bitterness of that cup which He drank when tempted
of the devil ; for that too was at a season of peculiar bodily
weakness."

And she adds : "I like to tell you all this, dearest N ,

because I feel it is real experience, which is worth many thou-
sand times as much written from head knowledge of Bible
trutlis. I am certain now that it is chiefly in the furnace we
ar(,' purged from sin. And, howc\-er trying it may be, I hoj)e
you will pray tliat Cod will accomplish all His will in me. 1
want to feel more thankfulness for His chastening love, and not
to shrink from suffering."

To a friend in deep afiliction : " The verse I should like to
send you is Psalm xlii. 7, 'all Thy waves and billows are gon^'
over me,'' tides 0/ love, ' waves and billows ' springing oij^t of
the ocean of God's love, so that they cannot overwhelm but

1^1 -iOI I

1 Willi Adelaide
cxijcricnccs and
c tun, Ijowcvcr,
records.
)lless encourage

Ihink that no

e endured more
nd, tlic last day
y suffering to a
.e no doubt thai
iveakness I was
J effectual ; but
inst us, blessed
awn encourage-
al darkness and

1 was the same
im precious to
; in answer to a
it I might know

I was made to
c when tempted
peculiar bodily

learest N ,

rth many thoii-
Icdge of Bible
he furnace we
nay be, I hojK'
will in me. J
g love, and not

should like to
Hows are gonL'
■inging out of
'verwhelm but

Adc/iii({i L. Ncivton,

2S1

only plunge us into its unfathomable depths; I have thought
(fit many times for you in connection with I'hilipijians ii. 27,
'(lod had mercy on him, and not on him only but on me also,
lc>t I should have sorrow upon sorrow.' And it is followed so
Iteautifully in the next verse by God commanding His loving-
kindness in the daytime, and enabling the soul even in the
dark night to sing * Ilis song.' "

Feb. 12, 185 1. "* Day by day.' The child of God must
learn that his heavenly Father maintains his cause on this
wise : ' the thing of a day in his day, as the matter shall re-
quire '(i Kings viii. 59, margin). For every trial He sends
He gives sufficient grace for its endurance; but He promises
no grace to bear anticipations with ; and we little know how
very large a portion of our mental sufferings arises from anti-
(ipaiion of trial. It is most conspicuous, for example, in
Jacob; and in his case his anticipations were, in great measure,
positive waste, things turned out so widely different from what
he had anticipated. These are the bitterest ingredients of our
trials, just because they are self imposed, and must be borne as
best we can of our own {^li'cak) strength. No wonder they are
so hard to bear, if God provides no strength to bear them with !
Should not we learn, therefore, how utterly vain it is to anti-
cipate ? And more, should not the fact that God has made nc?
provision for our anticipations make us shrink from the indul-
gence of them? * Day by day ' is His direction to us; and
* no thought for the morrow ' is His gracious and tender and
positive prohibition."

In the winter Adelaide Newton was often shut out from
the sanctuary for months together. In reference to this ex-
perience she says : *' I sometimes enjoy my lonely sabbaths
very much. . . God can feed us both with Himself, dear

N , without either ministers or church ; and it is well

worth being deprived of the comfort of either or both, to be
Uriven to Him. the fountain of livinti waters.

• Break all thy schemes of earthly joy,
That thou mayest find thine all in Me !'

2S2

Co ! I sec ra led Women.

U4
CO

Is not that just our experience at this very time?"
But wl)en in any way able to join in public worship she ^vas
most thankful for the privilege.

Adelaide Newton was a sincerely attached member of tiie
Chmch of Enghnd, and took delight in her ordinances; bu
she ever put Chnst Hrst, the Church second. '' Oh, how

ir • . T; ' '°"^ "' ^'^-'^Ss as / cannot fail to do,
moie m the hght of eternity than others who have not felt on
tsbnnk, makes everything which will last only whilst time
asts apiK^ar comparatively unworthy of thought ; whilst the
things which are unseen, the Spirit working in is (like
vv-jnd, winch is heard, though unseen), Christ who is our it
(hough now h,d wuhin the veil), the sustaining vital principle
ot God's strength made perfect in our weakness, all th s
truths are forgotten, or not to be talked about because they
are too sacred ! and we live very unlike those who are so-
joiirners only m a world which must itself soon pass away "
On the subject of self sacrifice she writes •
" We arc too prone by far to cry out for 'money, money '
and to be lamentmg that we can give so little, whilst the secret
truth IS that what God asks and expects is ourselves. ' M
son, s^-^s God «give Me thine heart '; and well did He knoJ
when He said that, that everything else would follo;v. aI
he present day few oifer themselves to work for God without
being well paid for it; and I begin to think we shall have to
find that. If missionary work is to be done, it must be done
by the sacrifice of ourselves. ' Here am I, send me -'

The following i)assages from her inner life show us the
reality of the Holy Spirit's teaching and trainin-^

May 2Sth, 1851. << God has been leading mc in the valley

I n ' r ?; / V' ''^"'^' '^ '''y''^^' ""^ ^ so about like the
Iqcr of old, unclean, unclean!' and can truthfully say, ^
abhor myself! I suppose I may read in it all the answer to
my own prayers; for I have so entreated to be laid low and

Adelaide Z. Nczi'ton.

2S3

' time?"

c worship slic was

;d member of the
r ordinances ; but
:ond. "Oh, how
rch is exalted and
:annot fail to do,
have not felt on
only whilst time
3ught; whilst the
% in us (like the
t who is our life
ng vital principle
^kness, all these
out because they
ose who are so-
il pass away."

'money, money,'
whilst the secret

JRSELVES. ' My

HI did He know,
oiikl follow. At
for God without
ve shall have to
it must be done

id ME.'"'

ife show us the

lie in the valley
t lias secn^d all
about like the
ilhfully say, 'I
U tlie answer to
be laid low and

kept humble, because I felt I was horribly self complacent.
And yet I cannot but thank Him that He is chastening me
and humbling me ; I knoiv it is to do me good at my latter
end. And this revival of old, secret, unutterable deeps of
sorrow, which in their very nature seem unfit to be told to any
one on earth, revives a hope that perhaps God is preparing
nie to work for Him again."

Jan. 24, 1S52. " For many weeks the constraint upon me
has been to pray ; and much time lias been spent in the at-
tempt. As to the expression of prayer, it has been a mere
nothing ; but I have found the greatest strengtli in those words,
'He that searcheth the heart knoweth what is the mind of the
Spirit,' which, I suppose, refers to the groanings which could
find no vent in utterance or outward expression. If so, are
not these inward ' groanings ' (for no other word half expresses
it) the very things which the Spirit is working in us, and which,
after all, constitute the truest prayr ■^"

" Don't you find the feeling grow^ upon you, that very {QVi
words are necessary in si)eaking to the Lord ? He reads each
thought ; and as one realizes this more, don't you think it
takes off very much of what, in earlier experience, one might
call the burden of prayer ? Does it not turn it rather into
fellowship and continual breathing in the spirit of prayer ?
and that, you know, is so ditTerent from the set speaking of
certain seasons. I can't express exactly what I mean ; but it
is like thinking all one's thoughts aloud in His presence. Oh,
for more of it ! Oh, to have no silent moments towards God ! "

On guidance she says : "The subject you mention, of guid-
ance, is one on which I feel strongly. Don't you think that
wherever guidance is honestly and simply sought, it is certainly
given ? As to our discernment of it, I believe it depends
upon the measure in which we are walking in the light. One
indulged sin so clouds the sky that it spreads a mist, so that to
bee what God is doing is imi)ossible.''

"I do so feel," she writes, "that very spiritual thoughts can
be expressed in spirit to God, but not in words to man, except

2S4

Coiisccrcitcd Women.

tfTH

::;i:::d '7;, ■: '™'"^"^ ""''"^'°"^' "■»«" ---^ -^^'.«

" I Iiad a sharp condict, some days ago, literally will, the
powers of darkness ; but I can't help telhng you how o e t
Lclped me, u nrust have been given to „t,, " Take the shei
of fauh, wherewuh ye sl,all be able to quenel all ,he ery dirt
of the wrcked one.' I, did seem to me so wonderM at th
monrent U,at the fiery darts whieh one might almost s^
Vited a ... s unqueneluible fire, should be quenched one
after another, as they touch the shield of faith „ '^""""^' °"^

w itcs . I often feel that we go tossing about on the tides of
Chr,st.an expenenee, which are for ever fluctuating, instead o
ly.ng peacefully at anchor on the Rock of Ages." Annih,

h ' T: "' ".""?' "'"' """^'"S "■■^' Chfistian ex .ere'n
as far too much taken the pLace of the study of Chris .iTd of
he character of God, and that this accounts in great me.",ure
or the low and .Icsponding slate of so very many Chri ims
Do you not think that the constant stud/of His cl ra ^
rir or;..^^'""^"^ ''-' - - *^-ity tha„ poTi'ng

.>;™r:Lisf::::?:fr,ittr" ''' ''-'-' -- ''°'"

'■Dec. 6, 1853. The subject which, has been on my mind this
week IS the way in which our sufl-erings have been made o
un.old the character of God. Formeri; I had atays tl^ln
of sutfermg as appointed or permitted of God for our gool
and I saw httle or nothmg more. But now I can see in Hi
cho.ce and arrange.nent of it, and in His methods of deali'
.out to each stngle believer in the countless n„,lii ude oT ^
recketrred, the most m.agnificen. dispLay of His own charade
And I cannot tell you how altered a view it has given me of

the r^,t k „d of trtal for each individual character; the right
quantuy; the r,ght time for sending it, so as that it ho Id n

1^1

be same thoughts,
1 scarcely perhaps

literally Avith the
rou how one text
* Take the sliicld
all the fiery darts
wonderful at that
It almost say are
)e quenched, one

1 her mind she
on the tides of
ating, instead of
es." And again
stian e.\j)erience
of Christ and of
1 great measure
iiany Christians.
f His character
^'ity than poring

:eived are both

on my mind this
been made to
always thought
for our good;
-in see, in His
lods of dealing
ultitude of the
own character,
las given me of
Iways selecting
cter ; the right
Lt it should not

Adelaide L, Newton,

285

clash with any other's ; the right duration ! And then His
power, almightiness, \' ^derness, and patience, how wonder-
fully they are develop, i m sustaining and comforting us under
them ! Do you like iiie thought ? To me it is most precious,
and takes me off self so much, and fixes the eye on God,
which is just what I need when suffering presses somewhat
sore."

On another subject her words are full of teaching.

" I'cb. 27, 1853. . . I feel more sure than ever that the
right thing is to take each sin, the moment the conscience
feels it, to the blood of Jesus, and there, having it 'once
purged,' to remember it *no more.' I don't think of one
scriptural example in which a forgiven sin was charged upon
the conscience a second time by God ; and I suppose that the
year's sins were never expected to be again brought to mind
after the scapegoat had borne them away into the land of
forgetfulness. Oh, for grace to plunge into the ocean of
Divine forgiveness !"

She thus addresses a friend under bereavement :

"It seems to me the only comfort in looking at such of
God's dealings with us as are otherwise perfectly inexplicable,
tliat He is doing what He wills with His own ; and, since
' He does all things well,' since * His work is perfect,' since all
He docs He makes 'to work together for good to them that
love Him,' it seems to leave us without ground of complaint,
whilst God is trying our faith to see whether we can trust Him
so to order each event of our lives now as best to promote our
eternal happiness and His own glory. It is a great exercise of
faith ; and yet how can we doubt it ? I never felt the comfort
of that twentieth chapter of Matthew so much before as I do
now : to think that your dear, dear baby, who had literally
' continued one hour only,' should be made equal to those who
had ' borne the burden and heat of the day,' is a very precious
thought to me, and seems to magnify the sovereignty of God's
Krace. I can only pray that God may enable you to trace His
' bright designs,' * treasured up,' as Cowper so beautifully says,

2S5

Consecrated Women,

* in deep unfathomable mines of never failing grace.' May the
God of love and peace and of all comfort be with you !"

To a schoolfellow on her marriage :

" May you but be united in the bonds of Christian love, and
I have no fear of excess or of danger of diminution. For, in
its very nature, it is everlasting ; and, as one of the fruits of

the Sijirit, it will grow and increase continually. Poor M ,

on her becoming Mrs. , ciice wrote to me so very

strongly about the blessing of having at least one earthly
friend to whom she could confide everything ; and when I
reminded her of the possibility of losing that one earthly
friend, and the blank which would then be felt, poor girl!
she could not bear it. How different it is to have our ' Maker
for our Husband.' But I trust you have. Then, if you marry

* in the Lord,' you do well."

The following hymn was written by Adelaide Newton on the
words, "When my spirit was overwhelmed within me, then
Thou knewest my path," and well describes her own trustful
experience.

My God, whose gracious pity I may claim,
Calling Thee " Father," sweet endearing name !
The sufferings of this weak and weary frame,
A!!, all are known to Thee.

From human eyes 'tis better to conceal
Much that I sufier, much I hourly feel ;
Lut oh ! this thought doth tvanc^uillizc and heal,
All, all is krown to Thee.

Nay, all by Thee is ordered, chosen, planned ;
lOach drop that fills my daily cup Thy hand
Trcscribes ; for ills none else can understand,
All, all arc known to Thee.

The fittest means to cure what I deplore ;
In mc Thy longed for likeness to restore ;
Self to dethrone, and let it rule no more ;
All, all are known to Thee.

Adelaide L. Ncivlon.

2S7

;racc.' T^fay the
vith you !"

iristian love, and

niition. For, in

of the fruits of

'. Poor M ,

to me so very
east one earthly
ig ; and when I
hat one earthly
; felt, poor girl!
have our * Maker
len, if you marry

e Newton on the
within me, then
her own trustful

\ name !

ime,

(1 heal,

nncd ;

ind,

Nor will the bitter draught distasteful p.ove,
When I recall the Son of Thy dear love ;
The cup Thou would'^t not for our sake remove,
That cup He drank for me !

And welcome, preciou=;, can Ills Spirit make
My little drop of suffering for His sake :
l'"alher i the cup 1 drink, tlic way I take,
All, all is known to Thee.

As Adelaide Newton approached the end of her pilgrimage
she became yet more absorbed in communion with Jesus, and
tiie holy calm that surrounded her testified her nearness to
Ilim. Yet, even here Satan tried to unsettle her; but though
unable for a time to realize communion or enjoy the light of
I lis countenance, her faith failed not.

Three months before her departure she writes of this trial
and of her deliverance :

"I am happier now. I must first tell you, however, that
for some time past it has been rather trying to me not to find
anytliing in the Bible which quite suited my case. Isaiah 1. 10
did not ; for I could not say I had ' no light.' Micah vii. 9 did
not ; for in this particular instance I had no particular sin
with which to charge myself. And so on with other similar
texts ; whilst I never could, for one moment, believe that God
was hiding His face. I felt I was myself crushed, and I couUl
not look up. You will believe, therefore, how exactly I found
myself described in Exodus vi. 9 : * Moses spake so unto the
children of Israel ; but they barkened not unto Moses for
anguish (marg. shortness, or straitncsi) of spirit and for cruel
bondage.' And then I felt that redemption was only 'pro-
mised ' to them ; but for us it is ' obtained,' actually for the
soul, and, in Christ, for the body. And it seemed as if, for
the first time, God had in this trial spoken through His word
and brought it home. I never am hnnny till I have verified
my experience by the Word."

" She brightened," says her sister, " from that moment."

2SS

Consecrated IVonicn.

Though gradually growing weaker for months she continued
to use her pen even till the day before her departure. Her
sister thus speaks of the last fortnight : '' It looked like heaven.
She seemed already there in spirit, though treading our vale
of tears. There was notliing of triumph ; but such solid, rock-
like peace I scarcely hope ever to sec again." On one of
these days she had a long and delightful conversation with
her mother leaving with her as a legacy this charge, " Tor one
look at self take ten looks at Christ."

The trial of dependence must have been great to one who,
during the years of illness, had never allowed others to do any-
thing for her, " however costly the struggle which enabled her
to do it herself" Now however her prostration was complete ;
"yet she never uttered anything like complaint, but mo.'
humbly and gratefully and lovingly accepted the services " of
those who tenderly cared for her. "Ah!" she would say
with a smile to the faithful old flimily nurse as she was waiting
upon her, " a cup of cold water shall in no wise lose its re°
ward."

On the last afternoon her sufferings were excruciating, yet
even then " her expression of countenance never altered in
the least, nor did her consciousness leave her for a moment."

As the doctor left her, Adelaide said to her sister, " I hive

just been asking Dr. how long he thinks I may continue

m this state ; and he told me it could not be long."

" For your sake," said the other, " I cannot wish it should
be."

" I," Adelaide replied, "have no wish about it."
In the evening she was lifted into bed, '• thanking those
around her for their tender care." About nine o'clock the
physical distress seemed returning, and she begged that the
physician might be called, saying " Surely the bitterness of
death is past." Mercifully she was spared further suffering.
Till four in the morning she was "stil' and calm, not uttering
a word, though apparently quite conscious."

Her sister says: "As she leaned ag^v'nst the pillows I

111 -J V^l I

IS she continued
departure. Her
ked like heaven,
catling our vale
such solid, rock-
ti." On one of
3nvers:ction with
liarge, " For one

eat to one who,
'thcrs to do any-
lich enabled her
n. was complete ;
)laint, but mo^.
he services " of
she would say
she was waiting
wise lose its re-

Adclaidc L. Newton.

289

fancied she would have spoken to us, had she been spoken
to; but no one broke the solemn silence."

" A smile of heavenly peace rested on her pale face," and it
was only when the i)hysician who supported her said "She
is here no longer," that those around her realized that their
beloved one had gone from earth. It was on April 26, 1854,
that Adelaide Newton passed within the veil, and awaking in
her Saviour's likeness was " satibficd.'

xcruciating, yet
lever altered in
3r a moment."
sister, " I have
I may continue

)ng.'

t wish it should

li-

lt."

thanking those
ne o'clock the
egged that the
le bitterness of
rther suffering,
m, not utterinsi

the pillows I

l^a%

^'KEPT BY THE POWER OF GOD:*

LENA HUBER.

Who says the luidoiu's heart must break,

The childless mother sink ?
A kinder, truer voice I hear

Bids weep no more.

IvEDr.E.

SCI

You know, or at least you mii;ht know if you would think, that
every battle you hear of has made many widows and orphans.
We have none of us heart enough truly to mourn with these. But
at least we might put on the outer symbols of mourning with them.
Let but every Christian lady who has conscience towards God
vow that she will mourn, at least outwardly, for His killed creatures.
. . Let every lady in the upper classes of civilized Europe
simply vow thai, while any cruel war proceeds, she will wear black
— a mute black — with no jewel, no ornament, no excuse for, :'r
evasion into, prcttiness. I tell you no war v.ould last a week."—
'' Croiun of Wild Olives:" Kink in.

xir.

I would lliink, that
ows and orphans.
I with these. IJut
)urning with them,
nee towards God
lis killed creatures.
f civilized Europe
he will wear black
no excuse for, ^r
Id last a week."—

LENA HUBER.I

LENA OVERBECK was a native of Wcsti)halia. Her
^ fatlier was the pastor of a country parish, a good man,
who taught his chiltlren carefully both by precept and example.'
He had a large family, but Lena was his favourite daughter.
She was the fairest and the most intelligent, and from her
earliest infancy had shown a remarkably ingenuous disposition.
There was nothing in the place in which her father lived to
give her great prospects in the world. Her sisters were
married to small merchants or the better class of peasant
farmers ; and her brothers, though sent to the university, looked
furward to nothing higher than the humble offices of the
(k-rinan Evangelical Church. Lena grew up a good and simple
maiden, much interested in every work which had for its object
either piety towards God or benevolence towards men. It
was in her twenty-second year that ILms Huber, the son of
a gentleman of high position in the Prussian Government,
came on a visit to her father's parsonage. Young Iluber was
lier brother's friend at the university of Heidelberg, and had
come to spend a {q.\v days of the summer vacation. To the
great joy of the whole family the visit ended in the betrothal
of Lena to Hans Huber. He returned to the university to
finish his studies. Two more years were spent there, when he
was appointed, through his father's influence, to a government
situation in Berlin, and the parsonage was the scene of the
rejoicings which usually mark the brightest day in tl»# life of

'Extracted from The Day of Rest, vol. for 1876. Alexanda Strahan
& Lo. By permission of the Publishers.

•n

?n4

Consecrated Women,

woman v len the world is all before them. There was
juy ih 'le parsonagr, yet joy sanctified by religion. The old
pastor pH.rformed the ccrrmony, and when they departed for
I5erlin he gave them the blcssinrs which Jacob gave to his
son Joseph, L'-ssings of heaven above and blessings of the
caith beneath, with the other benedictions suitable to their
f' f^e and condition.

I. na Ovcrbeck, now Iluber, from her position as the wife
of Hans Huber, had to mix with the best society in Berlin.
She found but little of the religion which she had been accus-
tomed to sec in her father's house. The fashionable world
there seemed given over to the vanities and pleasures of this
life. This gave her great anxiety, but she spent much of her
time in good works, helping all the charities that were in ex-
istence, and devising others. These things were done in the
midst of urgent domestic duties, for Lena had three sons and
four daughters. Of the latter, two died in infancy, the third at
the age of eighteen, and the fourth was a delicate child, with
little prospect of ever gaining strength. Her three sons were
the joy of Lena's heart. They grew up to manhood, passed
creditably through the university, and promised well for pros-
perity in life. In 1870, Gottfried, the eldest son, was in his
twenty-sixth year; Heinrich, the second son, was in his
twenty-third ; and Rudolph, the youngest, was but nineteen.

It was an evening in the summer when their father came
home from court, and found his wife and their three sons sitting
in the garden. He sat down beside them, and though he did
not seem sad there was evidently something serious in his
thoughts. " Matters do not look well for France," he said,
after some little conversation on other subjects. " There is a
rumour of war, and I have fears that we shali !<av<: a terrible
struggle with that country.-' Lena's heart b:.i' =j ic I that
it might have been heard by all who were near iier. In case
of war between France and Germany, her three sons would be
i;j the thick of the battle. An almost involuntary prayer was
bi. thed, that God would arise and stay the madness of the

Lena Hubcr.

295

cm. Tlicrc wns
igion. The old
)cy departed for
icob gave to liis
blessings of the
suitable to their

ition as the wife
;ociety in Derlin.
had been acciis-
ishionable world
:)leasures of this
nit much of her
that were in cx-
ere done in the
1 three sons and
ncy, the third at
icate c'lild, with
three sons were
lanhood, passed
:d well for pros-
son, was in his
on, was in his
s but nineteen.
icir father came
hree sons sitting
1 though he did
serious in his
ranee," he said,
). " There is a
, have a terrible
Ni" •;> u .1 that
r her. In case
sons would be
tary prayer was
madness of the

nations. Ne.xt day the news wa^ current in Berlir ihr' war
with France was inevitable. The martial spirit was aroused.

The three Hubers were appointed to regiments that went
forth at the first call to arms. They were present at Saarbruck,
and all of them won marks of distinctioi. for their bravery asj
soldiers and the heroism with which they inspired their men.
Lena received their letters with joy, and was glad to know that
they were fighting successfully for their country ; but she
thought ever of the terrors of battle, and the many chances of
ihnger ; for she had not one son only, but three, whose heads
were exposed to the cannon balls.

Six months after the war with France had begun, Lena's
sick daughter became worse and died. A fortnight had not
elapsed when her husband also departed this life. She w;; ,
thus left a solitary widow, with her three sons on the battle
field. While these trials made her sad, she became even more
active in works of benevolence. She knew what suffering was,
as once she had known joy, and this made her feel more for
the sufferings of others. Gottfried's regiment was ordered to
the siege of Strasburg. Frequent letters informed his mother
of his welfare, and added assurances of certain victory, when
he would again return to Berlin and take his father's place in
the household. The siege was long, the letters continued to
come. Lena became less anxious, for now all her sons had
been in the midst of the war and had survived. They might
therefore, she inferred, survive all dangers, and come home in
triumph.

One morning there was a terrible engagement. Th.c
Germans had advanced on Strasburg, committed great havoc,
but had been repulsed with loss of some of their bravest men.
Lena read the account in the morning paper with unusual

a^CII!C:)3, UiiU yCl ViiLU 1C33 aw.VIw^y LiiaU SII'w liau V11C!I UUIIC.

She was about to lay down the paper when her eye was caught
by the list of killed and wounded. The last name among th

296

Consecrated Women.

\Jfwm

•^lain was G^(7/'///-,v,/ ////.V;-. The paper fell from her hands, her
face grew pale, and she utte.cd a groan wwich was overheard
by a servant, who immediately came into h( r chamber. Lena
had fainted. Restoratives were applied, when she op. ned her
eyes, and, exclaiming " Gottfried " relapsed again into uncon-
sciousness. Thn servant wondered what could he the matter
that she spoke only of Gottfried. The otner servants were
called, and when Lena was better she directed them to the
paper, saying that her Gottfried was no more. As the servants
began 1.0 mourn, Lena began to be comforted. She had yet
two sons living, though amid tiie din of arms.

The deepest wounds close up in time, though marks remain
that speak of sorrows once endured. Lena Iluber continued
her work among the poor with more zeal than ever. She had
to visit many, whose sons, like her Gottfried, had fallen in
defence of their fatherland. ALiny mothers in Berlin were
made childless, and many wives made widows, by the war with
France, and of these the larger number were amongst the poor.
It formed a bond of sympathy betvvcen all classes, (sad one
indeed, but still a close one!) that many mothers had sons
who had fallen together, fighting for their country's cause.

Hut Lena Ruber's sorrows were not yet ended. The reports
of the slain before Aletz acquainted her with the death of
Lleinnch. He was vounded and carried to the hospital,
where he lived for twenty-four hours in full possession of his
senses to the last moment. He had heard of his father's
death, and how his brother had fallen at Strasburg, and his
last thoughts were for his widowed and bereaved mother

Lena had yet another blow. The news came from France
that Rudolph too was slain. He led his regiment bravely on
the day of a terrible engagement, when the Germans suffered
fearful loss, and among tliose who fell was Rudolph Huber.
I'or the last blow Lena seemed prepared. She loved her
younger son no less than the others, but the news was received
With more calmness. Her spirit was bowed down. She sub-
mitted to the la?t terrible bereavement in the spirit of Job,

\-%\ _|\^T~l V7>&. tu_>.^w.~._. — ^

Lena Hiibcr,

297

om h^r hands, her
lich was overheard
f chauiber. Lena
en she op.ned her
again into uncon-
luld be the matter,
ner servants were
:cted them to the
. As the servants
ted. She had yet

igh marks remain
liiiber continued
.n ever. She had
2d, had fallen in
s in Berlin were
5, by the war with
imongst the poor.
classes, (sad one
iiothers had sons
ntry's cause,
led. The reports
ith the death of
to the hospital,
)ossession of his
\ of his father's
trasburg, and his
ed mother,
me from France
iment bravely on
Germans suffered
Rudolph Huber.
She loved her
:ws was received
Jown. She sub-
le s])irit of Job,

wliose words were her comfort : *' The Lord gave, and the
Lord hath taken away ; blessed be the name uf the Lord."

Ler.a Hubjr left Terlin and returned to her native pro'/ince.
She opened her home for orphan children, of wh.om she found
many after the p^ace with France was concluded. Her trials
had the effect of maicing her a more diligent Christian in all
the duties that belong to the Christian life. The pastor of a
Wostphalian parish, from whom I iiad this account, spoke of
her as the purest saint he had ever known. She had to pass
through the fires of tribulation, sorrow, and anguish ; but she
came forth a golden Christian, purified as gold is pure.

II. J.

'• Lut what recks thy mother, wlio watches thee sleepiucj,
The long dreamless sleep on the bloodspiinkled lic.vth?
What recks thy reft mother, while sorrowing o'er thee,
'that victory crowned thee, if victory tore thee
From her whom it robbed of thy father before thee,
And bore thee, like him, to the regions of death?

• • • ■ •

Ah ! why should revenge for some wrong but suspected^

Mancouvres of state, that of honour make show,
Of a court ceremonial infringed or neglected,

Plunge a kingdom in blood and a people in woe ?
Oh hasten, great Father, the blest consummation,
\VIien ' nation shall ne'er lift up sword against nation,*
When war shall no more be the Christian's vocation.
When the spear shall be shivered and broken the bow ! "

Willi VM Ball.

[Frcin " The Mothtf^s Lament on the Evening of the Batlle.'^}

*' DOING SERVICE AS UNTO THE lORDr

WILHELMINA, VISCOUNTESS GLENORCIIY

Perish every fond ambition,

All I've sought, or hoped, cr known ;

Yet ho7v rieh is my ccudition !
God and heaven are still my own.

Henry Francis I.yte.

•A

"Does not Cod measure trial by w/ui/ it is to us} Surely He
docs. ... He who judges with other eyes than ours can see
that one with whom many arc sympathising is bearing no more
tlian you, possibly not so much. He has special tenderness for
your need, and entire understandaig of it. . , . Those words
of Christ to St. Paul hold within them depths of comfort : ' My
grace is sufficient for thee.' 2^or thcc : Paul's whole self, physical,
mental, spiritual, was included in these words. The secret of the
' thorn in the flesh' lay between him and his Lord. To St. Peter
it might not have been a thorn at all. . . . P)Ut, for St. Paul,
its keen agony was always present ; he could not live it down.'
And so the promise was of grace sufficient 'fo> //iec:"~From
" riwui^ht^ on (he Christian Life;' by the iate Hetty Bowman.

7/s? Surely He

fhan ours can see

bearing no more

ial tenderness for

, Those words

of comfort : ' My

hole self, physical,

The secret of the

•rd. To St. Peter

But, for St. Paul,

not live it down.

'bt //tec.'" — From

'tty £ 07V man.

XIII.

VVILHELiMINA, VISCOUNTESS GLENORCIIY.
Born 1741. Died 1786.

WILHELMINA MAXWELL was the younger of the
two daughters of Dr. William Maxwell, of Preston,
Galloway. She was born September 2nd, 1741, four months
after the death of her father, and her mother named the little
fatherless girl after her lamented husband. As she grew up,
Wilhelmina showed that she was endowed with fine talents,
and nothing was spared that wealth could give, to promote her
mental culture. She was considered one of the finest amateur
musicians of the day, and is described as having a " charming
voice." Added to all this, Wilhelmina was handsome, and
full of wit and liveliness, and was greatly admired and much
sought after in the fashionable circle in which she moved.
At nineteen, " dazzled with the fascinations of grandeur," she
fell in with the desires of her friends and gave her hand to
John Viscount Glenorchy, only son of the Earl of Breadalbane.
Her sister had a few months previously married William Earl
of Sutherland. After they had been married about a year,
Lord and Lady Glenorchy spent two years in travelling through
France and Italy. On their return, Lady Glenorchy, now
only about twenty-two, threw herself into all the dissipations
around her, till her health suffered and she was obliged to
rest. In 1765, while at Taymouth, she became dangerously
ill of fever. The effects of this illness will be best told by the
following memorandum, written on her first birthday after her
recovery.
*' September 2nd. I desire this day to humble myself before

JOI

302

Consecrated Women,

>■
a

God, and to bless Him as my Creator, who called me into
being from the dust of the earth ; who hath been my preserver
in the midst of many dangers ; and who hath, ever since my
birth, loaded me with tender mercies and loving kindnesses.
But, above all, I would bless His holy name tnat He hath
not left me in the state of alienation from Him in which I
was by nature, but that He halh of His free grace and mercy
brought me out of darkness, and shown me the glorious light
of His gospel, and caused me to hope for salvation through
Jesus Christ. Many a time was He pleased to convince ;ne
of sin in my early years ; but these convictions were as the
morning dew that soon passeth away. A life of dissipation
and folly soon choked the good seed. Carnal company and
diversions filled up the place in my soul that was due alone to
God. The first twenty years of my life were spent after the
fashion of this world. Led away by vanity and youthful folly,
I forgot my Creator and Redeemer \ and if at any time I was
brought by sickness or retirement to serious reflection, my
ideas of God were confused and full of terror; I saw my
course of life was wrong, but had not power to alter it, or to
resist the torrent of fashionable dissipation that drew me along
with it. Sometimes I resolved to begin a godly life, to give
all I had in charity, and to live only to God ; but I was then
ignorant of God's righteousness, and went about to establish a
sort of righteousness of my own, by which I hoped to be
saved. God was therefore gracious in totting me feel how
vain all my resolutions were, by allowing me to relapse again
and again into a life of folly and vanity. My ignorance of
the gospel was then so great that I did not like to hear
ministers preach much about Jesus Christ ; I saw neither form
nor comeliness in Him, and thought it would have been more
to the purpose had they told us what we should do to inherit
eternal life. My idea of Christ was, that after I had done
a great deal He was to make up the rest : this was my
religion I How marvellous is Thy grace, O Lord I to pardon
such a worthless creature, who thus depreciated Thy great

> called me into
een my preserver
h, ever since my
)ving kindnesses,
le inat Ke hath
Him iri which I
?race and mercy
he glorious light
alvation through

to convince .Tie
ions were as the
fe of dissipation
lal company and
was due alone to
! spent after the
id youthful folly,
t any time I was
s reflection, my
jrrorj I saw my

to alter it, or to
t drew me along
odly life, to give
; but I was then
ut to establish a

I hoped to be
ig me feel how
:o relapse again
ly ignorance of
:<t like to hear
law neither form
have been more
d do to inherit
ter I had done

: this was my
3rd I to pardon
ited Thy great

Wilhelmina, Viscountess Glenorchy. 303

sufferings and meritorious death, and endeavoured to rob
'I'liee of the glory which belongs to Thee alone.

"But this was not the only way in which I tried to rob God
of His glory. I claimed great merit in the patience with
v.Inch He enabled me to bear the severe trials and afflictions

He was graciously pleased to send upon me, to bend my
stubborn heart to His yoke. I thought I had not deserved
such a lot ; and thus I secretly rebelled against the good
will of the Lord. About this time I got acquainted with
the Hawkstone family; some of them had the reputation of
being Methodists. I liked their company and conversation,
and wished to be as religious as they were, being convinced
t!iat they were light; but I still loved the world in my heart
and could not think of secluding myself from its pleasures
altogether. I would gladly have found out some way of
reconciling God and the world, so as to save my soul and
keep some of my favourite amusements. I used many argu-
ments to prove that balls and other public places were
useful and necessary in society, that they were innocent and
lawful, and that the affairs of life could not go on well without
them. The Lord, however, followed me with convictions.
My own thoughts became very uneasy to me, the burden of
niy misfortunes mtolerable. My health and spirits at last
sunk under them, and for some time before I left off goin-
to public amusements y. here I appeared outwardly gay and
cheerful) iny heart was inwardly torn with anguish and in-
expressible grief. The enemy now suggested to me that I
had no resource left hut to give myself up entirely to the
gaieties of life, and seek consolation in whatever way it pre-
sented itself, without paying any regard to those maxims of
wisdom which hitherto had kept me within some bounds.

'•To the best of my remembrance, it was the very same

night in which this thouglit was suggested that I was seized

v.iih u .over which threatened to cut short my days ; during the

{ \r«>.cn wie nrat question 01 me Assemuiy's Catechism

was brouglit to my mind, "What is the chief end of man ?" as

304

Consecrated Women.

A
O

if some one had asked it. When I considered die answer to
it, 'To glorify God and enjoy Ilim for ever,' I was struck with
shame and confusion. I found I had never sought to glcriiy
God in my hfe, nor had any idea of what was meant i)y
enjoying Him for ever. Death and judgment were set before
mc, my past sins came to my remembrance. I saw no way
to escape the punishment due unto them, nor had I the least
ghmmering hope of obtaining the pardon of them through the
righteousness of another. In this dismal state I continued
some days, viewing death as the king of terrors, without a
friend to whom I could communic;,te my distress, and alto
gether ignorant of Jesus the Friend of sinners. At this time
the Lord put it into the heart of Mi .^ Hill to write to me. I
received her letter with inexpressible joy, as I thought she
might possibly say something that would lessen my fears of
death.

"I immediately wrote to her of my sad situation, and
begged her advice. Her answer set me upo;. searching the
Scriptures, with much prayer and supplication that the Lord
would show me the true way of salvation, and not suffer me to
be led into error. One day in particular I took the Bible in
my hand, and fell upon my knees before God, beseeching
Him widi much importunity to reveal His will ae by His
word. My mouth was filled with arguments, 1 I was
enabled to plead with Him that, as He had made me and
given me the desire I then felt to know Him, He would
surely teach me the way in which I should walk, and lead
me into all truth ; tnat He knew I only wished to know His
will in order to do it ; that I 1\'as afraid of being led into
error, but as He was truth itself His teaching must be in-
fallible. I therefore committed my soul to Him, to be taught
the true way of salvation. After this prayer was finished I
opened the Bible then in my hands, and read part of the third
chapter of the Epistle to the Romans, where our stale by
nature, and the way of redemption through a i)ropitiatcry
sacrifice, arc set clearly forth. The eyes of my understanding

red the answer to
' I was struck with
r sought to gloriiy
at was meant by
mt were set before
e. I saw no way
lor had I the least
" them through the
state I continued
terrors, without a
distress, and alto
icrs. At this time
to write to me. I
as I thought she
essen my fears of

sad situation, and
ipo;. searching the
:ion that the Lord
nd not suffer me to
took the Bible in
: God, beseeching
will ae by His

nents, i I was
liad made me and
Him, He would
lid walk, and lead
shed to know His
of being led into
.ching must be in-
Him, to be taught
yer was finished I
id part of the third
'here our state by
ugh a propitiatory
f my understanding

IVii/iciniiun^ Viscountess Gknorchy, 305

were opened, and 1 saw wisdom and beauty in the way of
salvation by a crucified Redeemer. I saw that God could be
just, and justify the ungodly. The Lord Jesus now appeared
to me as the city of refuge, and I was glad to flee to Him as
luy only hope. This was in summer, 1765. Since that time
I have had many ups and downs in my Christian course, but
liave never lost sight of Jesus as the Saviour of the world,
though I have often had doubts of my own interest in Him.
I can safely say that I would not give up the little knowledge
I have of Him for anything on earth. Antl although I have
already suffered reproach for observing His precei)ts, and
sliortly expect to be scoffed at by all my former ac(iuaintances,
and to have my name cast out as evil, yet I rejoice in diat He
thinketh me worthy to bear His cross And I now beseech
'I'hee, O Lord, to accept of my soul, body, reputation, property,
and influence, and everything that is called mine, and do with
them whatever seeincth good in Thy sight. I desire neither
ease, health, nor prosperity, any further than may be needful
to promote Thy glory. Let Thy blessed will be done in me,
and by me, from this day forth. Oh let me begin this day to
live wholly to Thee. Let Thy grace be sufficient for me, and
enable me to overcome the world. And to Thee be ascribed
the honour and glory, now and for evermore. Amen and
amen."

Miss Hill, to whom reference is made in the foregoing pages,
lived at Hawkstone near to Great Sugnal, Staffordshire, where
Lord and Lady Glenorchy sometimes resided. The following
sketch of their early intercourse is interesting. ' iving near
together, "the families had become acquainted with each other
so far as to exchange visits. At this period several of the
younger branches of the Hawkstone family, Mr. Richard Hill,
tiie Rev. Rowland Hill, Miss Hill, and a younger sister, were
decidedly pious; and they bore and braved the reproach
ordinarily drawn down by a ri.ligious cliaracter from the thought-
less, the formal, and the profligate. Lady Glenorchy was not
yet twenty-four, and Miss Hill was not much older, when, by

3o6

Co7isccrafcd JVomcn.

this correspondence, their shj^ht intimacy was rfpened into a
warm and permanent friendship. Nothing could be more
judicious, faithful, or affectionate, than the first letter which
Miss Hill wrote in answer to the unexpected communication
from Lady Glenorchy, in which her once gay friend laid open
the agitated and anxious state of Ix-r feelings, under deep
religious convictions. By the blessing of God that letter was
attended by the happiest effect ; it was the means employed
by Divine grace to rescue her from despondency, and to direct
her to the • city of refuge.' From that moment, without con-
ferring with flesh and blood. Lady Glenorchy resolutely turned
her back on the dissipated world, and devoted herself, anu
all that she could command or influence, without reserve, to
the service of her Redeemer and the glory of God. The
correspondence between these two friends was carrie/i on
without interruption from 1765 to 17C8, and was doubl'ess
ot the utmost benefit to both."

During the winter of 1765-6 Lady Glenorchy divided her
time between London and Bath, where every device was em-
ployed to lure her back to the gay scenes in which she had
formerly found such intoxication. Wc are told that " neither
severity nor artifice, both of which were put in practice, could
divert her from her steadfastness." Miss Phil congratulates
her on "the resolution and fortitude she i.ud displayed in re-
sisting all places of public amusement at Bath, from the fear of
again being entangled in the world." Her firmness in carrying
out her conscientious views of what was her duty increased
rather than diminished the respect felt for her by her father
in-law, the Earl of Breadalbane ; and although he did not
sympathise with her views, he showed to his latest hour the
warmest esteem for her. From others she had to endure much
that was very painful and trying.

In 1766 Lady Glenorchy had the severe trial of the loss
of hpr onlv sistrr iinrlpr npriilinrlu Hictrpqci'prr r!r'^!'5^'-»"-r-c~
Lord and Lady Sutherland had gone from their seat at Dunrobin
to Bath, after the decease of their eldest daughter. This event

rfpencd into a

could be more
rst letter which

comnnmicalioM
ricnd laid open
gs, under deep
i that letter was
neans employed
:y, and to direct
It, without con-
2Solutely turned
ed herself, anu
iiout reserve, to

of God. The
was Carrie. i on
. was doubl'ess

:hy divided her
device was cni-
which she had

I that "neither
practice, could

II congratulates
lisplaycd in re-
from the fear of
ness in carrying

duty increased
r by her father
?h he did not
latest hour the
to ciidure much

rial of the loss

circumstances.

;at at Dunrobin

;r. This event

U^ilhcluiina, Viscountess Glcuorcliy. 30;

had deeply affected them, and they sought in change of scene
and the amusements at Bath a little diversion f om their
sorrow. Soon after their arrival the Karl was seized with a
malignant fever. It lasted fifty-fivc days, at the end ofwhidi
time he died. During the fust three weeks, !)y night and by
(lay, the Countess nursed him devotedly ; but at length, over-
come by fatigue and grief, she became ill, and c.\i)ired before
her husband. So occupied had those around been with the
double care and nursing, and so slow was the transit of infor-
mation in those day?:, that her mother (now Lady Alva) did
not know what had occurred when she started to j{ in her
daui^htcr at Bath. On the way, when alighting from her car-
riage at an inn, she saw two hearses, and on inquiry, found that
they contained the remains of Lord and Lady Sutherland on
their way to the royal chapel of Holyrood House.

The winter of 1766-7 was a time of still further proving to
Lady Glenorchy. She was residing in the country, far from
all her religious friends, and "deprived of almost every out-
ward means of religious instruction or comfort, and e.\[)oscd
thus singly to all the odium and unkind accusation which the
singularity of consistent piety never fails to provoke. Every
eiTort seems to have been made to reason or to laugh her out
of her convictions. She was charged with hypocrisy and super-
stition ; and she felt these reproaches with an acutencss which
occasioned the most poignant distress," But her faith and
continuance In well doing were rewarded. She never lost her
influence over her husband, and at length received his " tacit
acquiescence " in her plans for the good of others.

On her return from Taymouth she often invited clerg)'men
to the castle to preach on the Sabbath, after service hours, to
the household and to neighbours who inclined to be present.
At E'Unburgh Lady Glenorchy foruicd one of a select circle of
congenial Christian friends, who met for religious edification,
first at one another's houses and then at the house of the senior
minister of the High Church at Edinburgh, Mr. Walker, who
usually either expounded the Scriptures or delivered a sermoa

3o3

Consecrated Women,

u
o

In 1770 Lady Glcnorchy, in conjunction with her friend
Lady ALixwcll, formed a plan which displays licr large hcartcd-
ness. That it did not succeed need not surprise us, for in
this state of being, with such endless variety of mind and with
such imperfect vision, we cannot expect to see eye to eye.
Indeed we arc not promised this experience till "the Lord
shall bring again Zion." As no human vision can take in the
whole scope of truth, we gain the nearest approach to it hy
taking our observations from our different standpoints, and
gathering all the added light we can from the distinctive views
of those who arc sincerely looking towards our Lord Jesus
Christ as the " centro' Solar Glory of humanity."

The plan proposed ..as to have a church in Edinburgh In
which alternately I'^piscopal and Presbyterian ministers should
officiate on Sabbath evenings, while a week-day service was to
be undertaken by Mr. Wesley's preachers. Lady Glenorchy
therefore hired St. ^L'lry's chapel, which was ojjcned by " one
of the six students who, a year or two before, had been expelled
from Oxford for attending private religious meetings." It is
not needful to go into details at this distance of time, but we
learn tb -t, owing to differences of opinion among the preachers,
it was found desirable to alter the arrangement, and when
Lord Glenorchy appointed a domestic chai)lain to the castle
he also took charge of St. Mary's chapel.

In the year 1771 Lord Glenorchy died. In October he had
a fit, and early in the following month the symptoms returned,
and on the nth, while Mr. Ue Courcy was praying for him, he
passed away from earth. His last days gave evidence that the
prayers of his wife and her godly example had not been in vain.
His confidence in her and his respect for her religious views
were evidenced by the way in which he left his property. His
will gave her " his whole real or landed estate of the baronies
of Rirnton and King's Crammond, and other lands, and all
things belonging to him in full riglit, constituting her sole
executrix and legatee; with full power to co*-. vert the whole
into money, and to employ or bestow the whole, or any part,

IVil/icliuina, Viscountess Glcnorcliy. 309

with her friend
icr large hcartcd-
rprisc us, for in
f mind and with

see eye to eye.
I till "the Lord
1 can take in the
proach to it by
itandpoints, and
distinctive views

our Lord Jesus

y."

in Edinburgh in
ministers should
.y service was to
Lady Glenorchy
Jl)ened by "one
ad been expelled
neetings." It is
of time, but we
ig the preachers,
nent, and when
lin to the castle

October he had
iptoms returned,
tying for him, he
vidence that the
not been in vain.
' religious views
; property. His

of the baronies
r lands, and all
ituting her soie
nvert the wliole
'le, or any part,

for encouraging the preaching of the gospel and promoting the
knowledge of the Protestant relig . , erecting schools, and
( ivili/ing the inhabitants in Breadalbanc, Glenorchy, and Xethtr-
Iioiise and in other parts of the Highlands, in su.h a way and
manner as she shall judge proper and exi)edii ■. t."

Lady Glenorchy h d no knowledge of the existence of these
documents. She deeply realized the heavy responsibilities
tluis entailed upon her, and it was her desire and aim to use
her wealth to God's glory. A large part of it was expended in
the cause of religion and of education. In several distri( ts, both
in England and Scotland, she built or purchased chapels and
endowed them, seeking out ministers who would preach a clear
ami full salvu^ion. On one occasion, on her way to or from
the west of England, where she spent many winters, her carriage
broke down, and Lady Glenorchy had to remain over the
Sabbath at Matlock. She found the state of ndigion, on
imiuiry, very unsatisfactory in the village, and immediately
determined on purchasing a chapel and house adjoining, which
was afterwards accomplished and an earnest minister sup-
plied.

She was ever looking out for similar opportunities of extend-
ing the Redeemer's kingdom. She sent missionaries to preach
the gospel through the Highlands and islands of Scotland.

The following account of some of her other works of bene-
volence is extracted from the short memoir of her, published
nearly sixty years ago.

" Lady Glenorchy's charities were very extensive, but many
of them were distributed with such secrecy that the benefactress
could hardly be traced. She sometimes expended hundreds
of pounds in relieving indigence, and placing whole families in
situations of comfort and usefulness. Her attention was much
directed to the most useful of all charities, the religious educa-
tion of youth. For this purpose she employed different
teachers, of acknowledged nietvand abilities-, bv whom hundreds
of children have been trained up in the knowledge of our holy
religion, and fitted for useful stations in so'iety. Many of

.•^10

Consccralcd Women.

them are now doing honour to their noble benefactress, as
teachers in different dc]iartments ; some of them, we trust,
are reaping the happy fruits of a pious education in the lieavenly
state. And very many indigent youth will, we hope, be in-
debted in like manner to the means which she has provided
for tlie benefit of future generations. To her chapel in Edin-
burgh is added a free school, where are taught reading, writing,
and arithmetic, which also she endowed. Many young men
of piety she educated for the Christian ministry. To some
able and faithful ministers, whose congregations were in poor
circumstances, she paid the whole of their salaries ; to others,
a stated annual sum in part ; to many, occasional donations as
she saw needful. In private, the widow and the fatherless, the
stranger and tl:e distressed, experienced her abundant bene-
ficence. To enable her to prosecute these schemes of bene-
volence, she herself carefully looked into all her affairs, and
studied the strictest economy; and though her dress, her table,
her attendants, her equipage, always corresponded to her
station, yet she denied herself the splendour which her fortune
and rank could well have afforded and ■excused."

In 17S1 Lady Henrietta Hope, on the death of her father,
the Earl of Hopetown, came to reside with Lady Glenorchy.
Both were in feeble health, yet they encouraged one another to
labour diligently for the good of others both spiritually and
temporally. The two friends were " one in heart and mind in
all things." Though an invalid Lady Henrietta was lively, and
so wise in judgment that she was a valuable companion to her
friend. Lady Glenorchy and Lady Henrietta proposed to
erect a chapel at Bristol Hotwells at their joint expense • but
the latter did not live to see her design carried out. She be-
queathed two thousand five hundred pounds for this purpose,
and Lady Glenorchy gave the building the name of Hope
Chapel in memory of her beloved friend. The loss of one so
closely united to her was a severe blow to T.nHi/ ni«pr.rrK„

The friends were however not long separated. In June,
17S6, after her winter residence in a warmer climate, Lady

Wilhelmina, Viscountess Glcnorchy. 3 1 1

e benefactress, as
•f them, we trust,
ion in the heavenly
I, we hope, be in-
she has provided
:r chapel in Edin-
it reading, writing,
Many young men
inistry. To some
ions were in poor
alaries ; to others,
ional donations as
the fatherless, the
■ abundant bene-
schemes of bene-
lU her affairs, and
:r dress, her table,
cspondcd to her
.vhich her fortune
cd."

ath of her father.
Lady Glenorchy.
ed one another to
;h spiritually and
leart and mind in
ta was lively, and
companion to her
ietta proposed to
int expense ; but
2d out. She be-
for this purpose,
} name of Hope
le loss of one so

Glenorchy set out once more for Scotland. On her way she
visited Workington in Cumberland, where she purchased ground
for a chapel and saw the commencement of the building. On
her arrival in Edinburgh her friends thought her failing in
health, and much changed since they had seen her before. On
the 14th of July she became seriously ill. " In the forenoon
of the following day, the curtain of her bed being drawn, a
relative, approaching as softly as possible to ascertain whether
she slept, heard her say, 'Well, if this be dyi'^g, it is the
pleasantest thing imaginable.' " She spoke but little after this,
continuing to sleep softly till near noon on the 17th of the
same month, when she breathed her last so gently that those
around were not able to tell the moment of her departure.
She was in the forty-fourth year of her age. According to her
desire her remains were laid in a vault beneath her own chapel
at Edinburgh. Lady ALaxwell, her executrix, erected a neat
marble slab with an appropriate inscription.

She who had so carefully and wisely dispensed her wealth in
life, left directions for the wise and generous disposal of what
she left beliind.

c\\l r^l«ir>/->rf-i-.

■^Kif

rated. In June,
ler climate, Lady

e.aiM-'

"forgetting the things that are

behind:'

ISABELLA GRAHAM.

Gales from heaven, if so He khU^
S'iOceter melodies can ivake

On the lonely mountain rill
Than the meeting:; loaters make.

ll7io hath the Father and the Son,
May be left, but not alone.

Keble.

ss.

^ When two well-tuned lutes are in perfect concert, that which is
not touched renders the same sound as that which is touched.
There is the same spirit in both, the same sound, one pure harmony.
It was thus that my will seemed to be in harmony with God's will."
—Jeanne Marie de la Mothe Guion.

XIV.

incert, that which is
which is touched,
one pure harmony.

ny with God's will."

ISABELLA GRAHAM.
Born 1742. Died 1814.

IS.ABELLA. MARSHALL was born at Eldersley, in
Lanarkshire, in Scotland. The estate of Eldersley, once
the habitation of the great Wallace, was rented by her father,
and there she spent her childhood and youth. Both parents
loved God, and taught their little girl to look up to Him as
!ier Father and her Guide. In the pleasant woods round
Eldersley Isabella loved to rove, and there she chose a bush
as her place of prayer, and while yet a child she would resort
to her trysting place to pour out her childish troubles before
God, and to find frequent consolation and peace.

When young, Isabella devotedly waited upon her grand-
fatlier during his last illness, and he bequeathed to her several
hundred pounds. Very wisely she requested that this sum
might be employed in giving her a good education. She was
therefore sent to a boarding school, superintended by a lady of
distinguished talents and piety. Isabella attended this school
during seven successive winters, and the instruction received
there was invaluable to her throughout her life. At the age of
seventeen she was admitted to the sacrament of the Lord's
supper in communion with the Presbyterian church at Paisley
under the pastoral care of Dr. Witherspoon. This is all we
learn of her early life. In 1765 she was married to Dr. John
Graham, a gentleman of liberal education practising as a
physician at Paisley. He was attached to a regiment (the
Royal Aniericans) stationed in Canada, and a year after their
marriage he was ordered out to that country. Before they
sailed a plan was formed for their settling in Canada. Dr.

3i6

Cojuccrated Women.

UJI

(irahain liopcd to sell his commission and purchase a tract of
land on tlic Mohawk river, and his father-in law i)roposcd to
join him ^vitll his family. This arrangement, owing to the
revolutionary war which shortly after commenced, was never
carried out. At Montreal their first child Jessie was lx)rn.
Dr. and Mrs. Graham afterwards removed to Fort Niagara on
Lake Ontario, and continued in garrison there for four years.
It was, as far as temporal tilings were concerned, a very happy
time to Mrs. Graham. The circle was select and agreeable ;
several of the oftkers were married, and the ladies were on the
best terms with eacli other. There was however one great
drawback ; they were far from any other settlement, and no ar-
rangement seems to have been made for any religious service
to be held on the Sabbath. Isabella Graham conscientiously
observed the day of rest, and would wander in the woods round
Fort Niagara with her Bible, " to commune with God and her
own heart in solitude." It must have vividly recalled the wood
near the old home in Scotland, where she had so often met
with her Lord.

At the beginning of the revolutionary struggle the regiment
to which Dr. Graham was attached, being composed prmci-
/)ally of Americans, was ordered to the West Indies. He
sought to purchase his discharge and secure a tract of land
where he might make a permanent home, but there was not
time to make the arrangements ; and he and his family, now
consisting of three little daughters, Jessie, Joanna, and Isabella,
sailed for Antigua. Here they were introduced into a pleasant
and congenial circle, including some earnest Christians, whose
hospitality and kindness were most welcome to Dr. and Mr?.
Graham. Very soon tidings from Scotland plunged the latter
into deep distress j her valued mother had been called away from
earth, and the daughter was inconsolable. Dr. Graham, seeing
that her excessive grief was preying upon her mind, sought
to rouse her by telling her that if she did not resign herself to
His will, God might call her into yet deeper sorrow by the
removal of her husband. These words were shortly fulfilled.

Isabella Graham,

purchase a tract of
i-law proposed to
:nt, owing to the
lenced, was never
Jessie was born.
3 Fort Niagara on
ere for four years,
ncd, a very hap])y
ct and agreeable ;
adies were on the
3wevcr one great
cment, and no ar-
^ religious service
n conscientiouslv
1 the woods round
rt'ith God and her
recalled the wood
had so often met

ggle the regiment
composed prmci-
/"est Indies. He
? a tract of land
but there was not
'\ his family, now
ina, and Isabella,
i^ into a pleasant
Christians, whose
to Dr. and Mr?.
)lunged the latter
1 called away from
r. Graham, seeing
ler mind, sought
resign herself to
:r sorrow by the
shortly fulfilled.

3';

On the 17th of November, 1774, he was seized with fever.
During his sliort illness he looked forward to its possible
termination; and when death api)roached he expressed per-
fect resignation in the prospect; he "gave his testimony to
the emptiness of a world in which its inhabitants are too much
occupied in pursuing bubbles which vanish into air, and died
in the faith and hope of the Redeemer."

^Vhen his wife knew that he could not recover, she was ab-
sorbed in her anxiety fo. his salvation, and when the hour of
parting was over lier joy and gratitude for his dying testimony
tu the sufficiency of his Saviour filled her heart. Afterwards,
when the funeral was over, she realized that she was alone in a
strange land, and her desolation was keenly felt. Lut she did
not despond, and for the sake of her little girls she roused
herself to look into her temporal affairs. She found that her
husband's comparatively early death had left her with very
small means, only about two hundred pounds remaining in his
agent's hands.

At this juncture her Christian principles were put to the
test. We learn that " she had brought with her from Niagara,
as servants, two young Indian girls; they were her late hus-
band's property, and she was now importuned to sell them, in
order to augment the small sum which was her only depend-
ence. But no consideration could prevail upon her to make
merchandise of two of her fellow creatures, immortal beings, the
workmanship of the same heavenly Father. One of these girls
accompanied her to Scotland, where she was married ; the other
died in Antigua before Mrs. Graham returned to Europe."

The surgeon's mate had been so well instructed by Dr.
Graham that he was appointed his successor, and Mrs.
Graham presented him with her husband's medical library and
his sword. The young man sought to repay in some degree
the kindness he Lad received, and on Mrs. Graham's return to
Scotland he remitted to her, at intervals, sums of money until
the year 1795, ^vhen they ceased just at a time when, her
circumstances being more comfortable, she did not so much

3'8

Consecrated Women,

■mm

require the help. Trobably this faithful friend had died, for
although Mrs. Graham made many attempts to discover his
whereabouts she heard of him no more.

After her husband's death Mrs. Graham remained a few
months in Antigua, until the birth of a son, wl.om she named
John after his father. When her health was established she
hastened to make preparations for her departure to her native
land. Before leaving she had one sad duty to perform, that
of protecting the grave of her husband by the erection of a
railing round it. Then she took leave of that ever sacred spot
of ground. Her little stock of money she placed in the hands
of her friend Major Brown, asking him to take o passage for
her and her four chiUlren to Europe. No ship offering for
Scotland, she embarked for Belfast. Major Brown and his
brother officers accompanied her to the ship, and at parting
the Major gave into her hands an envelope which he said con-
tained a bill for the balance c.f her money. It was however a
bill for the whole amount, her kind friends having subscribed
the cost of the passage, '* as a proof of respect for the memory
of their deceased friend.'

The passage from Ireland to Scotland was very stormy.
The following account of it is taken from her memoir. " The
packet on board of which Mrs. Graham with her children
embarked was not, as she afterwards learned, provided even
with a compass. A great storm arose, and they were tossed
to and fro for nine hours in imminent danger. The rudder
and the masts were carried away, everything on deck thrown
overboard ; and at length the vessel struck in the night upon
a rock on the coast of Ayr, in Scotland. The greatest con-
fusion pervaded the passengers and crew. Among a number
of young students, going to the university at Edinburgh,
some were swearing, some praying, and all were in despair.
The widow only remained composed. With her babe in her
arms, she hushed her weeping family, and told them that in
a few minutes they should all go to join their father in a
better world. The passengers wrote their names in their

1(1 had died, for
s to discover his

remained a few
whom she nameil
; cstaljlished slie
lire lo her native
to perform, that
he erection of a
ever sacred spot
ced in the hands
ke passage for
ship offering for

Brown and his
p, and at parting
licli he said con-
[t was however a
iving subscribed
t for the memory

•as very stormy,
memoir. " The
ith her children
.1, provided even
hey were tossed
ir. The rudder
on deck thrown
the night upon
he greatest con-
nong a number
at Edinburgh,
vere in despair,
her babe in her
Id them that in
leir father in a
names in their

Isabella Graham. 319

pocket-books, that their bodies might be recognised and re-
ported for ti:e mformation of their friends. One young man
came mto thi- cabin, asking ' Is there any peace here ?' He
was surprised to find a female so - nquil : a short conversa-
t;on soon evinced that religion was the source of comfort and
hope to thcia both in this perilous hour. He prayed and
then read the loyih Psalm. While repeating these words,

He makolh the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are
still,' the vessel swung off the rock by the rising of the tide.
She had been dashing against it for an hour and a half, the
sea making a breach over her, so that the hold was now
nearly filled with wa.er. Towards mornir- the storm sub-
sided, and the vessel floated until she rested^ on a sandbank
Assistance was afforded from the shore; and the ship»vreckcd
company took shelter in a small inn, where the men seemed
anxious to drown the remembrance of danger in a bowl of
punch. ISIrs. Graham retired to a private room, to offer up
her thanksgivings for this merciful interposition of Divine
Providence, and to commend herself and her orphans to the
Father of the f:itherless and the widow's God."

On reaching Cartside she entered her father's dwelling not
the large mansion in which she had left him, but a thatched
cottage containing only three rooms. Being of an easy tem-
perament Mr. Marshall had become security for some friends
whose failure in business had reduced him to poverty. He
had become factor to a gentleman whose father had been his
intimate friend, with the salary of £20 per annum and the
r.se of a small farm.

Soon Mr. Marshall's health failed, and even this scanty
sum was withdrawn. Happily his daughter was ready for
the emergency. She laid aside her children's fine frocks, and
dressed them in homespun. At Cartside she sold the butter
slie made, and the children were fed largely on milk. At
Taislcy, to which place she removed, she 'taught a small
school ; and the slender profits from this source, together with
a widow's annual pension of £\6, was her means of sub-

330

Comccratcd ]Vonicn.

■m

o
u

sistence. Her food was composed of porridge for the morn-
ing and evening meals, with potatoes for dinner; but in her
cottage home there were love and contentment and peace to
season the simple fare.

On the return of her friends Afajor and Mrs. IJrown fron)
the West Indies, the latter devised a plan for bringing Mrs.
Graham out of her seclusion into a position of large useful-
ness. Mrs. Brown consulted with the \'iscountes Glenorchy
and other friends, and then proposed to Mrs. Graham to open
a boarding school in Edinburgh. Well educated, eminently
pious, and with a large knowledge of life, she was consitlered
highly qualified for such an undertaking. Her want of funds
was the only obstacle. That which remained of the money
brought from Antigua she had carefully saved for future needs,
until at the recommendation of a friend, a merchant, it had
been invested in muslins. These she embroidered and made
into articles of dress for sale in the West Indies. \v\ her
loneliness she had much time to grieve over the loss of her
husband, and her friend thought that the needlework, besides
increasing her funds, would divert her mind from dwelling so
much upon the past. She gladly accepted the employment,
but the ship which carried the muslins was captured by the
French and she felt that there w.^ no prospect of regaining
any part of the lost money.

In her perplexity she set apart a day for fasting and prayer.
.She laid all her difUculties before the widow's Friend, earnestly
pleading with her God that He would " make His word a
light unto her feet and a lamp to her path, and lead her in
the way she should go ; especially that she might be directed
to choose the path in which she could best promote His glory
and the highest interests of herself and her children."

Thus seeking guidance she turned to her Bible, and the
passage John xxi. 15 impressed her: "Jesus saith to Simon
Peier, Simon son of Jonas iovesi thou Me more than these 1
He saith unto Him, Yea, Lord, Thou knowest that I love
Thee. He saith unto him, Feed My lambs."

Isabella Grahaui.

321

;c for the niorn-
nncr ; but in her
ent and peace to

Frs. Brown from
)r bringing Mrs.

of large useful-
mtes Glenorchy
Grail am to open
cated, eminently

was considered
:r want of funds
d of the money
for future needs,
merchant, it had
idered and made
Indies. In her
r the loss of her
dlework, besides
rom dwelling so
he employment,
:aptured by the
ect of regaining

iting and prayer.
■'Viend, earnestly
ike His word a
md lead her in
ight be directed
omote His glory
Idren."
Bible, and the
saith to Simon
lore than these ?
est that I love

She accepted these words as the answer to her inriuiry, and
.he tl;' n made up her mind to commence the school, not
iiiLiely as a source of livelihood, but also as a si)htre in which
bhe might glorify her God and Father.

Although her minil was now at rest regarding this decision,
all she had gone through had affected her health and an attack
ol fever supervened. On her recov.y she resolved to go
f jrward, and made all arrangements for her departure. (Jn
the Saturday before she left Cartside (she was looking towards
starling on the following Monday), while pondering how the
I.nrd would make a way for her, she received from her friend
ll-.e merchant a letter containing a sum of money recovered
iVom the underwriters on account of the captured muslins,
Mrs. Graham did not know that he had kindly insured her
proi)erty, and this assistance, :o unexpected and so timely,
enabled her to set off for Edinburgh with a renewed trust in
Him who is the Judge of the widow.

Once in the capital, friends were raised up to assist her in
the commencement of her school. A merchant in Glasgow
who, from his tntegrity, went by the name of " honest George
Anderson " came forward with generous aid. He had been
an early friend of Dr. G- aham, and he now placed at the
widow's disposal his services and the use of his purse to for-
ward her project. Occasionally she availed herself of the
help thus freely offered, and she had the joy of repaying both
principal and interest in due time. Among her intimate
friends and supporters she numbered Dr. Erskine, the Vis-
countess Glenorchy, Lady Ross Baillie, Mrs. Waltei Scott, and
others. Lady Glenorchy valued her highly, and frequently
made Mrs. Graham the dispenser of her bounties, and also
bestowed upon her friend some of the *' seeds of kindness "
which she scattered all around her. She took one of Mrs.
Graham's daughters into her flimily for a time, giving her in-
struction herself, and afterwards she sent her for a year to a
French school at Rotterdam. There, not content with pro-
viding the means for her education, Lady Glenorchy allowed

322

Consecrated M\men»

V5
U

■ ^

licr a lil)cral supply of pocket money, that she might not have
tnc pain of yccuig distress whicli slic was unable to alleviate

it was the request of Lady f Henorchy that Mrs. Graham
should be sent for to attend her dying bed should she be
within twenty miles of her wlien her end was near, and she
was enabled to fuir.l this last wish of her friend in 17S6.
J-ady G enorcliy left her the sum of £200, Mrs. (Graham's
.school became highly popular. Both as regards their mental
culture and moral training, her arrangements for her pupils
were tnnnently successful. She gained their affection by her
love and tenderness, while she enforced diligence in study and
obedience to her commands. She delighted to see them
inppy, and she devised many little plans to make the school
life bright and pleasant.

In sickness her tender care and watchfulness were unremit-
ting. Lut above all she watched for their souls, as one who
should give account of the precious trust committed to her
care Morning and evening she prayed with them, ar.d on
the Sabbath she took opportunities for giving special religious
instruction, ^

In the midst of a life of so much usefulness she was often
heard to lament that she was an - unprofitable servant " But
though the fruit of her labours may - ot have been fully
apparent at the time, many bore testimony in after years to the
blessing which had attended her efforts, and to the religio
impressions they had received during their school days spent
under her roof. ^ ^

Isabella Graham did not forget the time of adversity she had
passed through, and this remembrance enabled her the better
to feel for others w!;ose means were straitened. Thus she
received »,he daughters of ministers into her school at half price.
It was tlirough her that a society was formed in Edinburgh for
the help of the sick poor. It was called - the Penny Society " •
the i)avmcnt hei'itr n x^r^^x^., ^.,u«„-;u, j , , "^ /. '

' ;. : ;^, - r- -")> ^--owibed weekly, as prov s on

for a ime of sickness. The institution was permanently
established, and eventually became possessed of a large capital.

ihc miglit not have
able lo alleviate,
that Mrs. Graham
I'd shouUl she be
vas near, and she
;r friend in 1786.
'. Mrs. Graham's
3^^rds their mental
Its for her pupils
ir affection by her
;ence in study and
ted to see them
make the school

less were unremit-
souls, as one uho
:ommitted to her
'ith them, ar.d on
g special religious

CSS she was often
le servant." But
have been fully
after years to the
to the religious
chool days spent

idversity she had
d her the better
ncd. Thus she
lool at half price,
in Edinburgh for
Penny Society " ;
^ly, as provision
as permanently
>f a large capital.

habcilti Graham. 323

Another of her plans for the good of others was to make
advances to small struggling tradesmen, of sums from ten to
tuei.ty pounds, the value of which she took back in the articles
sold by them, chargmg no interest. The board of her scholars,
bemg paid m advance, she wa=5 enabled to do this.

During her residence abroad ^rrs.Graham had imbi!)cd a great
love for America, and when Dr. Wiiherspoon revisited Srotland
m 1 7S5 he conversed widi her much on the subject of rem ;viiv
to that country, and she gave him reason to believe that she
Nvould go as soon as her daughters should have completed tlip
course of education she had proposed for them. On his return
lu America, Dr. Witherspoon continued to ur-e her to carry out
her design, and many inhabitants of New York promised her
supi-ort if she would open a school in that city. She theicf .re
saileil for the United States in September, 17S9, leavin- her
son to complete his education in Edinburgh. In New York
she was warmly welcomed. She opened her school early in
October with five scholars, and by the end of the month it had
;acreased to fifty. This seminary was very attractive, uiul
1 ersons of distinction attended the annual examinatir •. Mr.s
(Jraham united in communion with the Presbytei i" church
under the pastoral care of Dr. John Mason. This exc elle-it
num was her fliithful friend aivl ' ser. Under his ministry
her two younger daughter anna and Isabella, joined the
church mi 791. Her eldest daughter, Jessie, was married m
1790 to Mr. Hay Stevenson, merchant, of Xcw York. He
also was a Presbyterian, but was in connection with a church
in another part of th ■ city.

In 1791 the son left in Scodand paid his mother a visit
ihe boy had a warm affectionate heart, but his training does
not seem to have been all that his mother had hoped f r him
He \vas of a bold and impetuous disposition, and Iiad taken a
L;reat fancy for a seafaring life. His friends in Ea.nburfrh h-l
liiereiore apprenticed him to the merchant service, and'^durin-
a VQj-age he was shipwrecked on the coast of Holland A
fnend of ^.Irs. Graham, living at Rotterdam, kindly took 'him

324

Consecrated Women,

to his house, and enabled him to take his passage to New
York. lie remained there for some months, when his mother
thought it right for him to return to Scotland to complete his
term of service. As he so evidently inclined for a sailor's life,
she fitted him out liberally, and he embarked for Greenock,
accompanied by Ur. Mason's only son, who went to attend the
theological lectures at the Divinity Hall, Edinburgh. The
mother's heart was wrung with anguish at the parting, for she
did not perceive in her boy the evidence of a change of heart,
and she naturally dreaded for him the temptations which he
was unprepared to meet.

The following from her private papers will best pourtray her
feelings at this time.

"New York, May 20, 1791.

•* This d:.y my only son left me in bitter wringings of heart ;
he is again launched on the ocean, God's ocean. The Lord
saved him from shipwreck, brought him to my home, and
allowed me once more to indulge my affections over him. He
has been with me but a short time, and ill have I improved
it ; he is gone from my sight, and my heart bursts with tumult-
uous grief. Lord, have mercy on the widow's son, 'the only
son of his mother.'

" I ask nothing in all this world for him ; I repeat my
petition, save his soul alive, give him salvation from sin. It
IS not the danger of the seas that distresses me ; it is not the
hardships he must undergo ; it is not the dread of never seeing
him more in this world; it is because I cannot discern the
fulfilment of the promise in him. I cannot discern the new
birth nor its fruits, but every symptom of captivity to Satin,
the world, and self will. This, this is what distresses me ; and,
in connection with this, his being shut out from ordinances, at
a distance from Christians ; shut up with those who forget God,
profane His name, and break His sabbaths ; men who often
live and die like beasts, yet are accountable creatures, who
must answer for every moment of time, and every word,
thought, and action. O Lord, many wonders hast Thou shown

passage to New
when liis mother
[ to complete his
for a sailor's life,
:d for Greenock,
'ent to attend the
i^dinburgh. The
e parting, for slie
change of heart,
tations which he

best pourtray her

May 20, 1 791.
ringings of heart ;
cean. The Lord
my home, and
IS over him. He
have I improved
irsts with tumult-
's son, * the only

m; I repeat my

on from sin. It

le; it is not the

I of never seeing

mot discern the

discern the new

iptivity to Satin,

tresses me ; and,

m ordinances, at

who forget God,

men who often

_ --ivuiurca, WHO

nd every word,
hast Thou shown

Isabella Graham.

'^ t "

me ; Thy ways of dealing with me and mine have not been
common ones : add this wonder to the rest. Call, convert,
regenerate, and establish a sailor in the faith. Lord, all things
are possible with Thee; glorify Thy Sun, and extend His
kingdom by sea and land ; take the prey from the strong. I
roll him over upon Thee. ALany friends try to comfort me ;
miserable comforters are they all. Thou art the God of con-
solation ; only confirm to me Thy precious worJ, on which
Thou causedst me to hope in the day when Thou saidst to
mc, 'Leave thy fatherless children, I will preserve them alive.
Only let this life be a spiritual life, and I put a blank in Thy
hand as to all temporal things.

" I wait for Thy salvation. Amen."

Three months afterwards she learnt that a press gang had
boarded the ship in which her son had sailed, and though he
was saved from their grasp by the stratagem of the passengers
he had his outfit taken from him. After undergoing many
hardships he wrote to his mother from Demerara, in 1794. He
had been made prisoner, had been retaken, and then intended
to go to Europe with a fleet which was soon to sail under
convoy. His trials had evidently been the means of softening
him, and he expressed the hope that he should profit by all the
experiences of his past life. Mrs. Graham never heard of him
:\'j,ix\n. All inquiries respecting him proved unavailing, and
his mother stayed herself upon the trust that in answer to her
prayers the compassionate Saviour had met with the iirodigal.
She had known a case in her father's family, the remembrance
of which now strengthened her faith in God's willingness and
power to save, in answer to believing prayer. The narration,
which refers to her youngest brother, is of too much interest to
be omitted. It is as follows. ''Archibald Marshall, a lad of
hfgh temper though of an affectionate heart, had gone to sea,
and was not heard of at all for several years. A pious woman
who kept a boarding hoMse at Paisley found one of her boarders
one day reading Doddridge's * Rise and Progress of Religion
in the Soul of Man,' with Archibald Marshall's name written

r^26

Consecrated Womc7i,

on the blank leaf. On inquiry the stranger told her he got
that bcok from a young man on his death bed, as a token of
regard. That young man was Archibald Marshall, he was an
exemplary Christian. He added, ' I have reason to bless God
that he ever was my messmate.' The woman who heard this
account transmitted it to Mr. Marshall s family."

In July, 1795, Joanna Graham was married to Mr. Divie
Bclhune, a merchant of New York, and in the following month
Mrs. Graham was called to the dying bed of her eldest daughter
who had been failing in health for some years. Jessie Stevenson
was a sincere Christian, and death had no terrors for her.
During the last hour she was engaged in singing a hymn, when
her voice failed and she soon passed away to continue the act
of praise in "a sweeter nobler song " than anything that earth
can produce. When her mother saw that the spirit had fled,
she raised her hands, and looking upwards exclaimed, " I wish
you joy, my darling !" She then washed her face, took some
refreshment, and retired to rest. But while she rejoiced in her
child's joy she greatly missed the presence of the dear one who
had helped so much to brighten her path in life. In 1798 her
daughter Isabella was married to Mr. Andrew Smith, of New
York. Her daughters being thus satisflictorily settled, Mrs.
Graham was persuaded to retire from the cares of school
Keeping. She resided alternately with her two daughters till
1S03 when Isabella, removing from New York, she made her
home with Joanna during the remainder of her life.

The following letter, written in 1800, gives an interesting re-
view of the way the Lord had led Isabella Graham in spiritual
things during her lengthened life.

" My dear Miss M . I am now old, and I hope have

done with the world ; but I have been young, and I once drank
deeply of youth's choicest pleasures. I was blest with the
most excellent and most indulgent of parents ; I was the wife
of a man of sense, sentiment, and sensibility, who was my very
first love and lover, and that love ripened and improved with
years. My children were good and healthy; love, health,

?r told her he got
Jcd, as a token of
Marshall, he was an
ason to bless God
an who heard this
ly."

ied to Mr. Divio
e following month
ler eldest daughter

Jessie Stevenson
terrors for her.
ing a hymn, when
) continue the act
lything that earth
le spirit had fled,
:claimed, "I wish
rface, took some
lie rejoiced in her
the dear one who
ife. In 1798 her
V Smith, of New
rily settled, Mrs.

cares of school
wo daughters till
rk, she made her
r life.

an interesting re-
raham in spiritual

and I hope have
and I once drank
s blest with the
; ; I was the wife
ivho was my very
d improved with
y; love, health,

Isabella Graham,

327

peace, and competency blessed our dwelling. I had also, in
early life, taken hold of God's covenant, and tasted His covenant
love, and devoted myself to His service; but very far was I
from that nonconformity to the world which the precept of the
;,'ospel requires. Had I kept close to my covenant God, enjoyed
His bounty with thankfulness, occupied my talents, devoted my
lime to usefulness and communion with Him ; had I prayed
ngainst corruption within, and temptation without, the Lord
would have directed my steps, and held up my goings. . . .
I'hc goodness of God, which ought to have been a powerful
motive to gratitude, love, and diligence, was misimproved. I
enjoyed the gifts and forgot the Giver, 'hugged my comforts to
death.' Many, many light chastisements my dear, my kind,
my indulgent heavenly Father exercised me with. I had many
rci)enting seasons under His strokes. I received many mani-
festations of pardon ; and many fresh and solemn dedications
of my heart, life, and substance did I make,- but no sooner
were Cvise and comfort restored than my heart * turned aside
like a deceitful bow.' My whole life, from fifteen to the thir-
tieth year of n v ag^, was one continued succession of departures
and backslic-u;':-- on my part, of chastening, forgiving, restorin
and comforting on the part of my God.

" He did not cast me off, but dealt with me according to
tlie constitution of His well ordered covenant. (Psalm Ixxxix.
30). . . This is the covenant of which I took hold in cady
life. My God kept me to my choice, and manifested His own
faithfulness and the stability of His covenant. When lighter
afllictions proved ineffectual. Pie at last, at one blow, took froin
nic all that made life dear, the very kernel of all my joys, my
iuol, my beloved husband. Then I no longer halted between
two opinions, my God became my all. I leave it as my testi-
mony that He has been ' a Fadier to the fatherless, a Husband
to the widow, the stranger's shield, and the orphan's stay.'
F.ven to hoar hairs and to old age has He carried me, and
'not one good word has f:iiled ' of all that He has promised.
' He has done all things well/ and at this day I am richer and

o»

,28

Consecrated Women,

n
o

happier tlian ever I was in my life. Not that I am yet made
free from sin ; that is still my burden, want of love and gratitude,
indolence in commanded duty, self will, and nestling in the
creature. But my heart's wish and earnest desire is conformity ;
the bent of my will is for God, and if my heart deceives me
not, my God is the centre of my best affections. It is by grace
that I an what I am, and the same grace engages to perfect
the work begun."

Mrs. Graham, having now her whole time at her disposal,
entered upon a career of unwearied devotion to the interests
of the suffering and destitute poor. Not that her ministrations
were confined to the poor ; the sorrowful and the sinning ones
of whatever rank in life were the objects of her interest and
her prayers. The spirit in which she entered upon these
enlarged labours (which extended over sixteen years) will be
seen in the following extract from her diary, dated October,
1797.

" How condescending is our covenant God ! All we have
or enjoy is from His hand. He gave us our being ; our lives,
although forfeited a thousand times, have been preserved.
'Our bread has been given us, and our water has been sure';
and not only these necessaries, but many comforts and good
temporal things, have fallen to our lot. * Thou hast furnished
our table,' Thou hast provided medicines and cordials when
sick. Lord, I thank Thee for all these mercies ; but, above
all, that we can call Thee our reconciled Father, that we have
them not as the world have them, who are far from Thee, but
that we have them as Thy redeemed, as part of covenant pro-
vision and with a covenant blessing, and among the 'all
things ' that work together for our good. Lord, enable us to
be rich in good works. How condescending that Thou ac-
ceptest a part of Thine own as freewill offerings, and hast
annexed promised blessings to those ' who consider the poor,'
hnst said ' he who giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord ! "

" I thank Thee that Thou hast laid to hand a sufficiency to
enable me and mine ' to eat our own bread,' even that which,

Svuu'

Isabella Graham.

-'9

it I am yet made
ove and gratitude,
d nestling in the
iire is conformity;
icart deceives me
s. It is by grace
ngagcs to perfect

; at her disposal,
1 to the interests
her ministrations
. the sinning ones
her interest and
ercd upon these
sn years) will be
■, dated October,

d ! All we have
being ; our lives,
been preserved.
• has been sure ' ;
mforts and good
)u hast furnished
id cordials when
'cics ; but, above
icr, that we have
r from Thee, but
of covenant pro-
among the * all
)rd, enable us to
g that Thou ac-
erings, and hast
)nsider the poor,'
to the Lord ! '
i a sufticiency to
;ven that which,

according to the regulations of society, men call our own.
Thou only hast a right to call it not so, for we arc Thine, and
all that Thou hast given us ; but of Thy free bounty and kind
providence Thou hast enabled us to ' provide things honest
and of good report in the sight of all men,' and to give a por-
tion to them who need.

" I trust Thy Spirit has directed my judgment in the deter-
mination I have taken to set apart from time to time this
portion, according as Thou prospercst us in business, and pre-
servest us in health and ability to pursue it. I bless Thee for
indulgent, encouraging appearances, that, since I began the
jiractice, Thou hast added to my stock, and that which I have
given has never straitened, but Thou hast prospered more and
more. My poor purse has never been cmi)ty when called for,
neitlicr has my f:imily purse. Of Thine own I give Thee, and
bless Thy name for the privilege."

In 1797 a Society for the "relief of poor widows with small
children " was established at the suggestion of Mr. Bethune,
and Mrs. Graham was chosen first directress, an office she held
for ten years. Uurmg the following winter the distress in New
York was extreme, owing to the ravages of yellow fever, and
Mrs. Graham's exertions in visiting the bereaved families, pro-
curing work for the widows, and carmg for their orphans, were
incessant. For the orphans she opened a school, and some of
her former pupils volunteered to teach the children in rotation.
She also engaged some of the best educated widows to open
free schools in different parts of the city for the children of
other widows. She established two sabbath schools, one of
wliich she superintended herself, and the other she placed under
the care of her daughter.

The Annual Report of the Widows' Relief Society was gene-
rally drawn up by Mrs. Graham. That in Aprils 1800, states
that " again the pestilence had emptied the city, again every
source of industry Vr'as dried up, even the streams of benevolence
from the country failed." The Report thus proceeds :

" Those storehouses from which relief was issued to thou-

Z30

Consecrated Women.

UJI

-J

sands in former calamities now disappointed their hopes ; and
those spared by the pestilence were ready to perish by the
famine. Such widows as had no friends in the country under
whose roof they might for a time seek shelter were shut up to
the only relief within their power, even to that Society which
had formerly saved them in many a strait. Tliey came, were
received with tenderness, assisted with food, advice, and medi-
cine. Four of the Society's board, at the risk of their lives,
remained in the city, steady in the exercise of their office.
(Jne hundred and forty-two widows, with four hundred and six
children under twelve years of age, by far the greater part under
six, have from time to time, during the winter, been visited
and relieved. IVUoia is a word of sorrow in the best of cir-
cumstances ; but a widow left poor, destitute, friendless, sur-
rounded with a number of small children, shivering with cold,
pale with want, looking in her face with eyes pleading for
bread which she has not to give ; nor any probable prospect of
procuring, is in a situation that calls for the deepest sympathy.
Many such scenes were witnessed during the last winter ; and
though none could restore the fat/icr and the husband, the
iiearts of the mourners were soothed by the managers, while
Ihey dispensed the relief provided for them by their Father
and their Hushatid, God."

The winter of 1804-5 was unusually severe. The iiver Hud-
son was icebound so early as November, and the poor suffered
terribly from the scarcity an ■" learness of fuel. Mrs. Graham
visited and assisted many f. .lies. It washer custom to leave
home directly after breakfast, taking with her some rolls of
bread, and spending the whole day in these visits of mercy,
not returning till eight o'clock in the evening. She was often
accompanied by her friend, Mrs. Hoffman, a member of the
Episcopal Church, and the two missionaries " travelled many
a day together in the walks of charity, dispensing temporal aid
iVom tlir; purse of charity and spiritual consolation from the
wurd of life."
In 1805 the manager of the \Vido\\s' Society felt the need

heir hopes ; and
perish by the
e country under

were shut up to
at Society which
'iiey came, were
Jvicc, and medi-
k of their Hves,

of tlicir office,
hundred and six
■eater part under
ter, been visited

the best of cir-
, friendless, sur-
ering with cold,
es pleading for
able prospect of
epest sympathy,
ast winter ; and
he husband, the
managers, while
by their J\xthcr

The liver Hud-
le poor suffered
Mrs. Graham
custom to leave
r some rolls of
visits of mercy,
She was often
member of the
travelled many
ig temporal aid
lation from the

y felt the need

Isabella Graham.

Z^c^"^

for an asylum for the orphans left a second time destitute on
the occasion of the death of their widowed mothers. Th.ey
therefore called a public meeting, over which Mrs. Graham
presided. An institution, small at first but afterwards largely
increased, was established ; and Mrs. Graham and members
of her family taught the children until the funds admitted of
competent teachers being provided. Eventually the Legis-
lature erected a handsome building in the neighbourhood of
Xew York for the use of the orphans.

Another work in which Mrs. Graham' engaged was the
visitation of the patients in the public hospital. She also
visited the sick female convicts in the state prison. In 1811,
on the formation of a Magdalen Society, she was made
president. In 1S12 another mission was laid before her
and the Christian women who associated with her in her
labours of love ; this was a request from the trustees of the
Lancasterian School to give catechetical religious instruction
to their scholars one afternoon in every week. Mrs. Graham
was one who attended regularly for this purpose.

There was at this time neither a Bible Society nor a Tract
Society in New York. During the visitation of the yellow
fever Mrs. Graham requested one of her friends to wrii i some
religious tracts suited to the needs of the afflicted faiiilies
suffering from illness or bereavement. These she widely dis-
tributed, and she also gave a copy of the Bible to every family
whom she found destitute of the Scriptures.

As years increased upon her, Mrs. Graham's active labours
made rest and recreation needful during the summer, and for
several successive years she accompanied an invalid grand-
daughter to Rockaway for the benefit of sea bathing. There
her society was much sought after, in the boarding house at
which she stayed " Her fund of information, her vivacity of
manner, and the interest which she felt in the happiness of all
around" made her .a most nlen<;nnf mmnnninn \\r,n-,, r^f hpr
lady friends at parting begged her tc visit them in their own
h.omes should she ever travel near to where they dwelt.

^ •> •I

C on sec rated Women.

. m

During one summer an event occurred which occasioned
much alarm to her friends. It is thus described.

" While bathing, Mrs. (Iraham was carried by the surf be-
yond her depth, and for some time there was scarcely a hope
of her regaining the shore. Her grandchildren were weeping
on the beach, and the company assembled there were afflicted,
but^ helpless spectators of her danger. At that moment of
peril she prayed to the Lord for deliverance, but acquiesced
in His will if He should see fit to take her to Himself in this
manner. Able to swim a little, she kept herself afloat for
some time ; she became at length very faint ; and when her
friends on the beach apprehended her lost, they perceived that
the wave had impelled her somewhat nearer to them. A
gentleman present, and her female u.tendant, stepped into the
surf; and, extending their arms for mutual support, one of
them was enabled to lay hold of Mrs. Graham's bathing gown,
and to pull her towards them. When they brought her ashore
she was much exhausted. It was some hours before she re-
vived, when she addressed the company in a very serious and
impressive manner, that affected them to tears. Her health,
during the following winter, was much impaired by the shock
it had received."

Early in 1814 her bodily powers began to fail, yet her lively
interest in the welfare of her fellow creatures showed no al)ate-
ment. In May she read with deep interest a report from
I'lngland relative to the establishment of adult schools ; and
she immediately took the initiative in forming such a school
for the young people employed in the manufactories, and she
invited them to meet her every Sabbath morning at eight
o'clock. During this spring for a few weeks her strength was
restored, and both naturally and spiritually she had a season
of much enjoyment. On Tuesday the 19th of July she was
taken unwell with what proved to be an attack of cholera.
On Saturday she sent for Mrs. Chrysfie. This alarmed her
daughter, who knew that these two aged friends had engaged
that, if possible, the one who died first should have the minis-

I'hich occasioned
ed.
by the surf be-
scarcely a hope
en were weeping
re were afflicted,
that moment of
', but acquiesced
Himself in this
erself afloat for
', and when her
:y perceived that
;r to them. A
itepped into the
support, one of
's bathing gown,
Dught her ashore
s before she re-
»'ery serious and
;. Her health,
:d by the shock

il, yet her lively
lowed no alxate-

a report from
lit schools ; and

such a school
ctories, and she
)rning at eight
;r strength was
s had a season
f July she was
tack of cholera,
is alarmed her
ds had engaged
have the minis-

Isabdla Graham.

trations of the other during her last hours. On Mrs. Chrystie
entering the room Mrs. Graham welcomed her with a sweet
expressive smile, which seemed to say : " I am about to get the
start of you ; it will be your office to fulfil our engagement."
As Mrs. Chrystie sat beside her dying friend Mrs. Graham
said to her, *' Your face is very pleasant to mc, my friend."

On the Sabbath she was very drowsy, but on seeing her
sonin-law looking much distressed she roused herself and,
embracing him, said : " My dear, dear son, I am going to
Lave you j I am going to the Saviour."

♦' I know," he replied, " that when you do go from us, it
will be to the Saviour ; but, my dear mother, it may not be
the Lord's time 7ioiv to call you to Himself."

" Yes," she said with tears, " now is the time ; and oh, I
could weep for sin."

"Have you any doubts then, my dear friend?" inquired
Mrs. Chrystie.

"Oh no," was her answer, and looking at her weeping
children she added : " My dear children, I have no more doubt
of going to my Saviour than if I were already in His arms ;
my guilt is all transferred. He has cancelled all I owed. Yet
I could weep for sins against so good a God. It seems to me
as if there must be weeping even in heaven for sin."

After this she conversed still more with her friends, mention-
ing portions of Scripture and favourite hymns which had helped
and comforted her. Some of these she had copied into a
little book she had entided *' Provision for my Last Journey
through the Wilderness and Passage over Jordan."

The waters of the river did not rise high as she passed over
to the " shining shore " beyond. Her last word, uttered with
a smile, was " Peace.'"

" r,

CONSECRATED UNTO THE LORD,''

MARIE.

Wcarinr all that weight of icarninjr
Lightly like a Jlower.

T£NNySJN',

" It is not by the toil of their own hands that tlic lilies are
arrayed in a Rlory siirpassin:^' that of Solomon, Their pure, wliite
j;arnicnt is not of tlieir own spinning,' ; it is the free gift of Clod's
bounty. Nor have the souls, which arc arrayed in a purity like
th.it of the lily, wrought that purity for thenii:elvcs. . . . All the
wisdom, and all the strength, and all the courage thut h ive ever been
found among the children of men, would never attam to a single
thread in that robe of righteousness. If any arc indeed clothed in
this purity, like the lilies of the field, it can only be through God's
infinite mercy and love. It can only be through their having their
souls washed in the blood and arrayed in the white robes of the
Lamb." — /■'ro//i a Sermon by Julius J Ian-, " Harvest ParabU-sP

lat the lilies are
Their pure, white
free i;\h of Cioirs
in a purity hkc
es, ... All the
at h ive ever been
attain to a sin^^Ie
ndced clothed in
>c through God's
their having their
lite robes of the

XV.
MARIE.

THIS brief description of a refined and elevated diararter,
sanctified by Divine grace, is written by "Charlotte
Elizabeth," the sketch of whose life forms one of the early
chapters of this volume.

Totally deaf from childhood, Charlotte Elizabeth's litcmry
work was an intense interest to Ik r Not less so was the
cultivation of her garden, wh ^^h nhe k nt entirely in her own
hands, by which means she l .came personally acquainted
with each plant, its manner of [ -■'.v;!., requirements, etc. She
was highly imaginative, and it was her fancy to connect a
favourite flower or plant with each of hf.r most mtimate friends,
both rich and poor.

In the present instance a sprig of " lemon plant," or ver-
bena, given her by Marie on their first acquaintance, caused
Charlotte Elizabeth to link her friend and the i)lant together.
And there is a likeness we cannot fail to trace between the
plant and the beautiful traits of Marie's character. The leaf
of the lemon plant gives forth its sweetest scent when bruised.
Marie's earthly life had been crushed and bruised by sorrow
and bereavement, and the result was a holy fragrance which
filled the atmosphere around her wherever she went. The
following is only slightly abridged from the original sketch.^

• The sketch of Marie forms one of a scries of papers, originally, it wouM
seem, brought out in a monthly periodical, and consisting of memorials of
persons known to the author, an 1 whose characters were associated in her
mind with some llower which v ai generally in bloom at \.\\v time she wrote.
These " Chapters on Flowers'" were afterwards imblishcd in a separate vol-
ume by " Seeley & Co.," by whose permission the sketch is now reprintc<l.

338

Consecrated Women,

O
<

" While engaged in writing these simple memorials, I have
often been led to think on a friend, before whose eyes the
pages must frequently have brought scenes and characters
no less familiar to her than to myself. Circumstances had
parted us many years ago; and under the pressure of our
respective cares, amid the multiplying demands on our atten-
tion, the correspondence had died away; but many a sweet
anticipation had gladdened my thoughts, as they dwelt on a
future reunion, either in her own green isle, or wheresoever
the Lord might permit us to renew the intercourse which, for
three years, subsisted, to our mutual delight, almost without
a day's separation. Together we watched the fading of the
interesting snowdrop, poor Theresa ! and our tears were min-
gled over the tidings of her blessed transition to the world of
happy spirits ; together we rejoiced over the first manifesta-
tions of Divine grace in the little dumb boy. To her I took
the passion flower ; and the nun, whom she personally knew,
formed the theme of numberless conversations between us'
while there also I had the help of her persevering prayers.'
So intimately was she acquainted with all most interesting to
me, that I have almost marvelled she should not have broken
through the lengthened silence, ^.las ! I little thought that
she had gone to rejoice with those who had awakened so
mtense an interest in us; and that the lemon plant, or ver-
bena, a sweet shrub which I had, from the first day of our
acquaintance, held in a manner sacred to her, was soon to be
placed among the mementoes of the dead.

'*As I have before remarked, my floral associations are
very arbitrary. They are sometimes founded on a resem-
blance traced between the individual and the flower, but more
frequently upon some incident which has connected them •
and then I love to follow up the union, by making out some
actual point of likeness. Not a few of my best beloved
friends, thus fancifully idenufied, arc still bright and blooming

• o'-^i'C rvprs.s;.niaavea, anu very deliglitlui is it to

behold them together; more particularly if the friend and the

Marie.

339

icmorials, I have

whose eyes the
3 and characters
rcumstances had

pressure of our
Is on our atten-
t many a sweet
;hey dwelt on a
, or wheresoever
ourse which, for

almost without
le fading of the

tears were min-
to the world of

first manifesta-

To her I took
)crsonally knew,
ns between us ;
evering prayers.
St interesting to
lot have broken
le thought that
d awakened so
n plant, or ver-
first day of our

was soon to be

tssociations arc
d on a resem-
owcr, but more
nncctcd them ;
king out some
' best beloved
t and blooming
ghlful is it to
friend and the

flower unexpectedly meet, the first after a prolonged absence,
the other in the earliest beauty of its annual reappearance ;
and my heart has bounded with a joy that few can realize,
with a fond anticipation of future rcai>pcarance even on
earth, and the UKjre sober but far more satisfying prospect of
eternal reunion in that better land where the flowers fade not
and friends can part no more.

"But I am wandering from the lemon plant, and from her
whose memory is, like it, fragrant and evergreen. IJcforc we
met I had heard so much of her extraordinary attainments
and acknowledged superiority in all that is both brilliant and
valuable, that I rather expected something more to be admired
than loved, and froze myself as hard as peoph.: can freeze
amid the sunshine of Irish society, under the impression that
if I took a fancy to Marie she would prove too abstracted a
person to reciprocate it. How much was I mistaken ! Never,
in my life, did I behold a softer personificatic of all that is
modest in the truly feminine character, arrayed too in the
meek and quiet spirit wherewith God loves to adorn His
dearest children.

" Her dress, her manner, every feature of her intelligent
and pensive countenance, bespoke the unassuming disciple of
a lowly Master. Elegant she could not but be ; fashionable
she had been, and, as she told me, proud and overbearing. I
was forced to believe it, for Marie was infinitely superior to
the affectation of self-condemning humility \ but years of close
observation did not enable me to detect a vestige of such
characteristics. It often astonished me that she, who so
dearly prized in others the gifts of intellect and superior in-
formation, should be so utterly insensible of her own elevated
scale in both respects ; but I believe it to have been that,
liaving long traded in goodly pearls, she so justly appreciated
the one pearl of great price, which she had happily found,
that her former collection faded into absolute nothingness in
the comparison.

" One hour passed in her society sufficed to rivet my regard ;

340

Consecrated Women.

■A

for. mlcrcstcd by some painful circumstances that she had
P eviously heard as connected with my situation, she laid
a de her habitual reserve, and bestowed on me such sweet
attentions as would have won a much colder heart. It was on
tha occasion that she gave me lialf of a sprig of tiie lemon
plant from her bosom; and finding tliat it was a frvourite

i ttle study. rhc growth of our friendship, how^ever, out-
stripped that of the plant, so that before the slip had take,
root Mane and I were daily companions.

" Our earliest walks were beside a river, the banks of >vhich
were ringed with tall trees, or along a road where the lofy
mountains of Slieve-na-man towered many a mile to the right
while in nearer prospect, across the river, was one of the
proudest and most ancient of Ireland's embattled castles.

d^nfr;' n ' ' H r'^""' '° enamoured of the precincts within
that castles ^yalls that our more extended rambles were given
up for the delightful privilege of sauntering beneath the rich
foliage of Its venerable trees, and talking over tales of the olden
times, dear to the children of Erin. The noble proprietors
on leaving the country for a time, had given me the privilege
of free entrance at all hours, by a private door, into the
grounds with permission to extend my rambles into every
room of the castle. Often have we availed ourselves of this
mdulgence to gaze on the antique tapestry, to examine the
curious rehques of other days, when one of the purest patriots
ha ever drew Irish breath held viceregal state beneath those
bat dements ; or to promenade the long saloon, enriched by the
portraits of many generations, and terminating in a projecting
window which, from an almost incredible height, looked m-
mand.ngly down upon the slow deep river that guarded the
foot of that impregnable fortress. My beloved companion had
not in becoming spiritual, lost a whit of her patriotism (would
ha none ever diu so !), and she was proud of the castle, and

1 .r 7 /'T- ? ''0^'uura ui us suiTouuumg trees with a

Jepth of fcdtng truly Irish. Indeed, under tlieir shadow I

Mar

le.

341

ices that she had
situation, she laid
311 me such sweet
r lieart. It was on
prig of tlie lemon
it was a favourite
ng, to perfume my
lip, however, out-
he shp had taken

he banks of which
d where the lofty

mile to the right,
, was one of tlie
embattled castles.
le precincts within
mblcs were given

beneath the rich

talcs of the olden
loblc proprietors,
I me the privilege
e door, into the
mbles into every
ourselves of this
, to examine the
lie purest patriots
ite beneath those
1, enriched by the
g in a projecting
iht, looked .m-
hat guarded the
i companion had
patriotism (would
f the castle, and
iing trees with a

their shadow I

seemed to become Irish also; for it is from that spot, and from
that period, I date my fervent devotion to dear Ireland and
her cause, a devotion which I hope and trust will abide in
the veins of my heart till they cease to throb with life.

" But there were traits in Marie's character more endearing
than even her nationality. She was a truly consistent Christ-
ian ; her views of Divine tilings were uncommonly deep and
clear; and the powers of her hne mind were unreservedly con-
secrated to His service who had so richly gifted it. She was
slow in asserting an opinion, i:.ecause she always made sure of
her ground ; and rarely, if over, had she occasion to retract it.
Great decision of character was tempered with such softness of
manner, and powerful arguments were so modestly put forth,
that even a child might feel as if on an equal footing with her]
while imbibing the lessons of wisdom. How tender she was
in this respect, a little instance may show : I never could forget
the circumstance, nor think of it without emotion.

" We once, when setting out on a long walk beside the river,
started a subject whereon our opinions considerably differed;
it was something connected with the grand doctrine of redcmp-'
tion. ]\Iy notions were very crude, but I was abund. il- dog-
matical in proclaiming them. Marie had the better 01 the
argument throughout ; and not a word was spoken on either
side, approaching to intemperance of feeling.

" We had not quite concluded when we reached my door,
and stood awhile to finish the discussion, as the dinner hour
forbade a longer interview. It ended by my conceding to her
the palm of orthodoxy, which I did I believe with a good
grace ; and we parted most affectionately, agreeing to meet on
the morrow at noon. The following morning, before I was
well awake, a billet was brought io my bedside, the contents
of which amazed me. It was from Marie, written at three
o'clock in the morning under the most extreme depression of
S})irits, occasioned bv an ar)nrehpn<;inn wlnVVi k^^i cc.\^^a i.—
that she might, in the oarnestnesss of our discussion, have
said or looked something calculated to pain me ; and the idea

342

Consecrated Women.

O
H

<
U

was, she said, intolerable that she perhaps had added a mental
pang to the many I was called on to endure, by some seem-
ingly unkind remark or overbearing assumption. She had
wept at the thought, and prayed over it ; had acknowledged it
to her mother, and now took the pen to implore my forgive-
ness if such should have been the case. A more simple,
touching effusion I never perused ; and when I had written
my assurance that nothing of the kind, notliing even remotely
approaching it, had occurred, I sat down to meditate on the
inmiense distance to which the once proud Marie had advanced
on the heavenly road beyond me, who said a thousand peevish
thmgs almost daily to my most indulgent friends, and rarely
repented of them.

" Another distinguishing feature in her sweet character was
the perfect absence of egotism. With feelings exquisitely
refined, she struggled to conceal their delicate sensitiveness
lest minds of a rougher mould might feel ill at ease in her
company. This species of self denial I have scarcely ever seen
practised except by my beloved Marie; but in her I have
marked it constantly developed. On the same higli and
generous principle she concealed her extraordinary attainments
in science ; she was deeply versed in even very abstruse philo-
sophy, and her acquaintance with learned languages was at
once extensive and solid. She had books that would have
graced the library of a university professor, and used them
too, but they were never seen on her table or her shelves, and
I verily believe that, to the day of our separation, she did not
know I was acquainted with the number or nature of her ac-
complishments ; yet she had no friend so intimate as I was.

'• I recollect that one day she was showing me a little cir-
cular flowerstand, where she had arranged her choice plants,
just before the window of her favourite boudoir. I looked
around me; the room was not large, but delightfully fitted r.p.
There was her piano on one side and her harp in the corner :
her bookshelves elegantly arranged, with drawings hung round,'
every one of which she said was a memento of something

ane.

343

ad added a mental
re, l)y some sccm-
iilUion. She had
d acknowledged it
iplore my foigivc-
A more simple,
len I liad written
ing even remotely
3 meditate on the
arie had advanced
thousand peevish
friends, and rarely

eet character was
elings exquisitely
cate sensitiveness
11 at ease in her
scarcely ever seen
it in her I have
same high and
linary attainments
ry abstruse philo-
languages was at
that would have
» and used them
•■ her shelves, and
ttion, she did not
nature of her ac-
mate as I was.
\ me a little cir-
er choice plants,
udoir. I looked
;htfully fitted r.p.
p in the corner :
ings hung round,
to of something

dear to her heart. The love of a mother, who perfectly appre-
ciated and almost idolized this one survivor of her domestic
circle, had contrived many little useful and ornamental append-
ages ; while the riowerstand, loaded with odoriferous plants,
basked in the pleasant light of a window which overlooked her
little garden, where her two pet families of rare carnations and
splendid tiger lilies flourished to her heart's content. I re-
member thus addressing her : * Marie, you perplex and almost
make me discontented. You are a child of God, yet have no
cross.' She looked at me with a short laugh of surprise, then,
while her aspect softened into deep humility, she answered : ' I
am, by Divine grace, a child of God, loaded with innumerable
blessings by ray heavenly Father ; every want supplied, every
wish gratified. But don't doubt that, when He sees fit. He
will find a cross for me.' She presently after brought a
miniature and laid it before me, asking if I knew whom it repre-
sented. I replied I had seen one like it, but could not tell
where. Her mother, who had joined us, said, 'Five years
before you met, that was a most striking likeness of Marie.'

" I gazed in astonishment, comparing the lofty and spirited
mien, the brilliant glow of youthful beauty, and deep rich
auburn tint of a profuse head of hair, as represented in the
miniature, with the meek quiet aspect, the faded complexion,
and the very thin locks of pale yellow, that marked my friend.
She sat quite still during the scrutiny, then said, * It really was
a surprising likeness, taken just before I lost my darling
brother.' Her tears flowed, and, smiling through them, she
added while closing the miniature, * You must not suppose
that I had no troubles *j bring me to the cross.'

' This was the only allusion that she ever made to former
trials ; but the incident sunk deep into my mind, showing me
the Lord's mercy to His dear child, in giving heir a season of
calm enjoyment after severe tossings on a stormy sea.

"Dear gentle Marie! it was not the combination of
external things that, gratifying her taste, produced such an
atmosphere of tranquil happiness around her ; it was the calm

344

Consecrated Women.

and lioly frame of a spirit subdued, a heart attuned, under the
hand of sanctifying grace. She was eminently devout, and
hua a method in all her exercises, a methodical arrangement
of iier time, which conduced, beyond any other means, to the
consistency, the usefulness, the self-possession of a child of
t.od. A perfect knowledge of herself gave her rinnite ad.an- ^
tage over those who had more superficially, or more partially
investigated t!ieir own characters. Beholding conliniiallv her |
ongmal and actual Mnfulness, her failures in attempting to I
follow the steps of a perfect Guide, and all the i^ecret iniquity '
of a heart naturally most proudly averse fiom godliness, be-
holding tliese things as m the siglu of the Omniscient, she was
kept from the fhtal snare of thinking of hcr^df more highly
than she ought to think ; and thus no dight, no rudeiicss, no
seventy of remark, could ruffle even the surfia.e of her patient
temp-, . With all this she was exceedingly cheerful, and by
lier fr(;.ijcnt flashes of genuine humour often won a smile
when no one else could have extorted it.

•The details connected with my beloved Marie's history
would for surpass, in touching and heart-thrilliDg interest, those
of any individual to whom I have yet alluded; but her cha-
racter needed not the aid of such contingent circumstances to
render ,t engaging in the eyes of those who knew her: nor
does It require that aid to make it attractive to those who love
to see a contemporary adorned in like manner as the holy
women of old adorned themselves. I could have made my
readers weep with me, but I would rather lead them to
reflect and to pray, encouraged by the exhibition of what God
wrought in my Marie, and what He is equally able, equally
willing, to work in them also."

^: 'y y

Puller & Tannrr, Tl,e Selwood Trinting ^Vork,. Frome. and London.

1625 4

'ucn,

leart attuned, under the
eminently devout, and
nethodical arrangement
my other means, to the
Dssession of a child of
gave her ivs finite a d.an-
:ially, (»r ir.ore partially,
holding continaally her
iures in attempting to
1 all the bPcret iniquity
se fiom godliness, he-
be Omniscient, she was
Di hersw'lf more higlily
slight;, no rudeness, no
surfuce of her patient
ingly cheerful, and by
Ml often won a smile

cloved Marie's history
•thrilling interest, those
illuded ; but her cha-
igent circumstances to

who knew her; nor
tive to those who love

manner as the holy
could have made rny

rather lead them to
xhibition of what God

equally able, equally

Frome. and London.