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Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mAthode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 •w 'w*^ iFiisiEBiFjT :ra(E.iEi^®:t^: Born. .11 I'T uiipioii ;u'cH- ItOIi ]ijr.fi;j.i;tii;:e., F.n.i";.^iiii , .'->ri;t ITAlEiliiii^rilTlE (if Kie ■^^^ .r.'% ©:5' '3r¥ le^o iiL::.^;^ C/^c/l ^^y " '.V'h:ii' w.i;;iiiy uii iKt'. .siuu'c liir ilif Im.its- 1 empioyeii my liiiir; ]u it;vie'wiii^r tlie du'ei-'MUirid tind chriiueietl past ! s ■■ '■', NARRATIVE OF THE LIEE AND SUFFERINGS OP WILLIAM B. LIGHTON; COXTAINLVS AJT rXTERESTINa AXD FArTHFCL ACCOU.VT OF niS EVRTV rrrr ESCAPE FKOM CAPXIVITV. AND SETTlii^ ' MENT IN Tire UNITED STATES. WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. God is my Guide-^Virtue and Ht eaven my reward. NEW AND REVISED EDITION, EMBELLISHED WITH TExN STEFT rw^ ibJS STEEL ENGRAVINGS. TROY: - PRINTED BY J. C. KNEELAND, & GO. - 184C. " MM I M hi IW J . - J I » y 5?/;/3 rf- ,. '"?:^?(p^ ^ "H 'w^'.'^-v^^.'-^'vS^-^^v.-W . .^J V» Eiitoreil accordinc: to Act of Contj'reP3, in the year 1840, By Wii.MAM Beebev Lighton, In the Clerk's Oflloe of the District Court of Ma^sichusetta. ■»^-■--»■•^^.•v%^ "V'vv**-v"*-v*-.- \..v.-'.-v .% ,-^ i *„ V vi'. ,• r I V' Wv I-.' '^».*» ^ I ! ?. ay ' "■ -. ') ii ' ' ; ■ '■ "' '< '"' ' .1 V. >' ■ J n 1. '.f • . i ( • i- ■T'^.yo PREFACE. t Many of the virtuous and the icood, whose lives have heen distin- guished for usefulness, hnve contributed to the literature of the -vorld by publishinj? their biographies; thereby promoting the rause of truth, morality, and reliirion, and perpetuating their memories among the living. Though the writer may shine with far inferior lustre, in the scale of intellectual and moral greatness, to many who have written, yet he would meekly present to the public a narniiivi- nf his young and eventful career ; a rareer which has been marked with soiiic of the njost remarkable ocrurreneef,an(l which are not less inti^resiing from hav- ing t)een snifered a' so early hh age. Of the merits of these assertions the impartial reader is left to judge. The writer trusts that he possesses nothing of assumptive arrogance, nor the work any thing of fietieions novelty. It is a plain, unvarnished statement of real facts as they have occurred, and of sutlerings as they have been endured. The reader, then, must pardon its errors ; and, rather than pierce it with a dagger of criticism, he will cover all its faults with a mantle of mercy. The object of wrilina it will be obtained, if it .shall exhibit the good- neas of (iod, correct the' evil pa.ssions of the heart, enforce jjarental obedience, promote generous sentiments, elevate the standard of mo- rality, and purify the taste of the youth, to whom it is most sincerely dedicated. It was not originally the design qf the author to publish his Narra- tive at so early a period of his life, but to have withheld it from the world until (if he lived) lie was further advanced in years, or have left it in manuscript, to be pul>lishi.'d after his decease. But the ardent solici- tude felt by his bereaved and afHJcted parents, who have for a number of years suffered severe mental an.xiety and grief, from the author's sutl- den St!paration from them in the bud of early youth, and his absence in n foreign land, ignorant of the dangers and sufferings to which he was exposed, — probably never to meet them again on the shores of time, — and the earnest, importunate desire expressed in their letters to have it immediately put to press, when they learned its general events by a correspondence ; — these were reasons too powerful in their claims not to be acceded to with sentiments of childlike afTection and gratitude. Added to this is the conviction that the events inibodied in the work ore of sufficient mterest to justify their publication. The author feels that all his suflerings have arisen from disobedience to his parents, and a reckless spirit of adventure. He has, therefore, * i tT' ■■liii^-v f: I ( ll! 4 ^ PREFACE. written this ns a wnriiinc; to the risinir {rcnorntion, liopjnc it "i»»y prove Ji f'lu'ck to lln' violent passionfl of the yoiinir »nil th<»ii).'htlfss, ami (fo pood ; iiiid thai it may, on thcae accounts, !)!.• sanclion«.Hi by every Christian and j>hilanthropist. These being the motives from which the foUowmff paiDfcs have been coni[)iled, lie would present them to the candid public, in unison with the ticntiments and wishes of friends and kindred, vho are far separated from him by the mighty deep, with a desire that tin y may be rendered a blessing both to tliem and to every American youth. That the bk'ssing of God may rest upon the work, is the sincere yravrr v( 'the author. I JI I • . ' !:'•.> ■ r ■ >l rii CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. The nutlior's hirtli. Parents. Family afHktions. A mother In-law. Supersti- tious ro!»nr(l nf the roUin. Ednnitlon. Love of amuscincnt. DisobfiUence. — Detected :n robMng n giirUcn. Pouching iinil {{iiiuc Inws of Eiighinil. Parental Hovernaient. Preparntion for a sea \t)yaKo. Disaintointuient. Emigration. — A Inzy emigrant. Iiuitortanco of the period of you'.h p. i> CHAPTER 11. New situations. Ill usage. The author hecomas a wanderer. Tho drover's Infiratitudc. Becomes a groom. The discovery. Returns home. Kindness of parents. Goes to service amiin. Unkind and cruel treatment. Runs away.— • A wicived companion. Ohliged to heg. Cli.ats the inn-k'-cpcr. Lincoln de- scribed. Returns homo in aflliction. Cold reception. Filial duty, l-caves home again. The separation. A mother's afl'ection. New situation. A scold- Becomes a wanderer again. Mote troubles. (Jll'ers to enlist. A cunning trick. Enlists in the York militia. A dishonorable gentleman, ttctaliution.— Enlists in the riflo corps p. 35 CHAPTER IIL March of recruits to tho Isle of Wight. Canute the Great. Arrival at Newport. Military discipline. Short rations. The theft. Its discovery and cruel pun- ishment. Uneasiness of mind. Visit to an old castle. Drumming out. Letter from home, i^ickness. Recovery. Orders for marching. Sejiaration of soldiers from tlieir wive.s. English aristocracy. The maimed sohher. The cmbarka. tlon. Apostrophe to home p. 51 CHAPTER IV. The voj'age. Its prosperous beginning. The storm. Approach to land. Nar- row cscniKJs from shipwreck. Sufferings for want of water. Tyranny of offi- cers. Arrival at Quebec. Exultation of the troops. Sails to Montreal. Lands. The barracks. Character and apjtearance of the old troops. Urbanity of offieers. Early privileges. Visits buildings of Montreal. Desires for homo.— An extract p. 68 CHAPTER V. Commencement of active military duties. The drill. Annoyance from iniects. — An expedient. Punishment of the vicious. Amiable character of our colonel. fmmm \ ■< I' \u\ ■ if III ', f ', I I I r I' I "*. ■' 6 C0NTK5fTS. nil removal. Charncter of tilfi aupcossor. Do'ortloin. A llnpiglnK «r«>n« desrrlbi'd. Tho ivit-n'-nlno tills. <'onllriiiiit:oii of iheso crufUit^. Anccdotp. Hecrncy nf thr.sp piiiiUhinenU. Tho pnriulu pround. Kna|mnck drill. The dOHcrlor punishod. A trnltor to lutmanlty. Escape of DackenhoiHcn Ptiiio of author's mind. IntclltTtual purfiiUi. Desires for dischnrtse. DccnineH an offlcor'H sorv.int. Ciiliniiry ntinfortunoH. Desrrlion. Sutl'iTinjti hy cold. Do- tected by n selflih landlord, and rurriodto 8t. John^s. R«;turnod to Montreal.— Confiiiod in the city Jail. Trial. Bentunced to death. Vbitcd in tho condem- ned cell liy clergymen. Tho reprieve p. 77 CnAPTKR VI. Tho visit to tlin condcmiu'd pcH. The execution. A my"ratUms described. The discovery. Tho author's regiment. Dl«ap- pointed liopcH. The prisoners plan their escape throuuh the roiumon aewer. — The cliort, and the abortion of the plan. They are thr«i\vn into a ilungeun and Ironed, llosignation p. 11-.' CHAVTER VIK * > A now prisoner. Modes of tJio Spirit's operations. A pious visitor. Delay of duly. A strange preacher. An elfectual sermon. A confession. Good advice. Temptations to delny. Serious stale of mind, rowcrlul convictions. Tho conversion. Dfiightful state of mind. The young convert. Favorable impres- sions. Persccntion. A Patnnic invention. Disappointed hatred. The i)eace- maker. A prisoner alarmed. The Holy Ghost resisted. Departure of a friend. The prison school. A gift. A plentiful provi-ion. Dr. Morula. Plan of es- cape. A disinterested friend. Facilities for escape. An auspicious moment. — Groundless alarm. A night's excitement. The crisis. The escape. Farewell to ray prison p. 13tf CHAPTER VIII. Tho ecstasy of freedom. The journey. Proceeds towards tho back country. — Travels as servant to the doctor. St. Ann's. St. Ann's church. Interior of the church. Tho rofuJ-slde crosses. Sui)erstllion. The doctor and author resolve lu part. The author lets himself. Duluess of situation. Character of the jHJople. Antagonism of intelligence and jioiwry. Fears of discovery. A visit- or from Cluebec. A fullow prisoner. The prison bnkcr. Resolv .,i;'.'> ?'■;»•(*■•■'< Ja,«nf-vV ■■* ;v«niVi-i •»«/. Vi "t^t-irTadi '»>'J^).i!uA .--.T-'Sur «i J :■ :..':.■, -ijvij^ .Jtir,.'"'. •> •' % I ^^ CONTENTS. !{; scene iHCcdole. III. The roine« an (iltl. Do. Dntreal.— ) comlcm- . p. 77 A suiUlcn rUe trend |iiisoii. A ret. Fiill- kk jail, antl a botJy. — nt. Dloap- in sewer,— CHAPTRR IX. The niithnr l»rcfiin»"« nn npprrntice. Serious fiTlliij.'!. Tho cnrnp-niiTtlrc- Tho liiirk>llil('r rrstorrd. lieri iiics ti MtllKiilli^t. ItciiinvrM to ISr:iiltuiil. |ti'.«li«>!« to |iri;irli. Tlie lir>^t ^i^•rlll((|l. Rcnidvnl to I.i-lioii. Hlinliei. 'r»iii|'t;iii(iiix. 'J'ho (' inikiirU. Hilly rrpurls. I.iu' luippinpss. — Aiiiiilicr Idler trmii tlip Mullmr's I'liticr. 'I'lic aiithur Is lliTn-etl in pre;irh. Urciivcs several letliTs I'rniii Kii^laiid. The aullmr perNiiinlcs his pii rents to cnii^'rate. Thi'ir ret'u.sal, and the reasons, A iiea\y loss*. Moral eil'rct of tent* piiraltriiH. KeHf-ctions. What W dctttli f Drlijilits tif iiiiiiinrtality. Addrer'S to the ri'adtr. Study ol' the Ihlde Hri,'cace— sweet •od of divine ,f my ftither, and that the thorn, with lurmured not, Ic submissive Id hath taken Lliarly melan- |t withstanding the place of Jiother, is not, The hus- iful object ol' now possess ahnost a maternal solicitude for his babes, yet there is an aching in liis bereaved heart. Does he return from his place of daily toil? How the tearful eye gazos on the vacant place she used to fill ! Associations are connected with that glance, which rend his mournful bosom, and send a thrill of agony to the lowest fountain of feeling. Docs lie retire to his solitary chamber ? It is but to spend the slecidoss hours in r.gouizing remembrances of the past. Every thing around him serves for a temptation to his bus)' memory to bring up anew the images of scenes long since departed. How keenly, too, is the mother's lo?s felt by the survivinir children ! IIow tliev recoil from the cold attention of strangers, and sigh for the warmth and kindness of a moth- er's love ! They mis,?, too, those instructions which they were wont to receive from her beloved and willing lips, and which used to allbrd them innocent amusement, while it jn'omoted their intellectual and moral improvement. But though erring and sliort-siglitcd man may wonder at that inscrutable Providence which cuts off a devoted mother from her infant progeny ; yet He, who holds tlie destinies of creation in his mighty grasp, and sways an irresistible sceptre over the universe, acts not without a reason ; and faitli teaches patient submission to his doings ; believing, wlien tlie veil is removed, and God's ways revealed to man, that the most offlicted of earth's frail sons will joyfully sini, " My Jesus halh done all things well." After the lapse of several months, my father married, a second time, to an amiable woman of prepossessing ai)pear- ance and agreeable disposition. She was kind and indu^ 12 LIFK OF WILLIAM B. LIC HTON. Hi / (I Early instruction. Anecdote. gent ; and from her I received that care and attention which iu a great degree atoned lor my former lots. My parents were strict observers of ^he rules of the Enghsh Episcopal Church. For the truths of the Bible they possessed a deep reverence and a sincere regard ; and they spared no pains in striving to impress its eternal truths upon the minds of their offspring at the earliest periods of mental development. This pious instruction made deep impressions on my youthful licart, leading me to regard the character of God with the greatest veneration, and inspiring me with a con- stant fear of offending him by a breach of his holy law. The folIoAving tuiocdote, thougli simple, will serve to show the operations of these moral impressions on my juNcnile mind. One of the remaining superstitions of the pesantry of England is the belief that the robin red-brest, for some unknown reason, is the i)ccullar favorite of the Deit}' ; that its red breast is the mark by which it is known as such, and that to destroy it is an act of peculiar and abhorrent wiclcedness. In conmion with other children, I had been laught this superstition, and had ever regarded the I'obin as a sacred bird. One day by mistake, 1 destroyed a brood of the.-^c chirping innocents. Upon discovering that they be- longed to the kind designated by superstition, I became the subject of the most bitter and painful sensations. Convic- tion that I had done wrong fastened on my mind. 1 felt guilty and unhapi)y, and Avas filled with tormenting fear, on account of the supposed wickedness of the deed. I tried to forget the act. but the effort was utterly vain. My burden grew heavier ; it became almost insupportable ; I wept aloud, and cried to God for mercy and pardon, prom- LlfE OF WILLIAM B. LIGIITON. 1 ** ■cdote. ion which L'S of the the Bible vard ; and •nal truths periods oi >ns on my er of God vith a con- 1 holy law. ■ve to show ny juvenile lesantry of :, for some city; that n as such, abhorrent had been le robin as u brood of liat they be- 1 became the Convic- [nd. 1 fell ling fear, on id. I tried vain. My [portable; I Irdon, prom- The Sabbath School. ising, if he would forgive me, never to be guilty of the like offence again. In the midst of my importunate cries, I obtained as sensible relief as I ever experienced in my life. ]My guilt was rolled from my heart, and peace re- turned to my bosom, insomuch that I hastened to my amuse- ments Avith all the transports of youthful delight. Would that my moral sensitiveness, though better instructed, had ahvsiys remained ecpuiUy sharp ! That I might be more efficiently instructed in those SL'riptares which make " wise unto salvation," I was, at an early age, sent to one of those nurseries of the church, a Sabbath school. It was conducted by some Christian ladies and gentlemen, whose souls, filled with a Savior's love, yearned with compassion for the youth of our village. From their plnlauthropic labors the seed my parents sowed was watered ; earlier impressions were deepened, and others lixed in my youthful heart, which served as powerful re- straints in after life, and, under God, were the means of preventing me from j)lunging headlong into the unfjithomed depths of vice. O, tlie blesssed and happy effects of Sab- bath schools I Surely they are seats of mercy. How vitally important are they to the interests of the church! and liow earnestly is it to be wished, that Christians were more awake to a consideration of their value ; that they labored more perseveringly and steadily at this mighty engine of piety and reformation I May the omnipotent Jehovah awaken them. My father, aware of the value of education, placed me under the tuition of Mr. Joshua Dent, a gentleman fitted, both by learning and judgment, to superintend the instruc- tion of youth. By his assistance I acquired a knowledge of the common branches of education ; and had I been 2* w I' I s •1 H !i ) r I- 14 LIKE OF WILLIAM B. LIOftTO.V. Love of amusement. Orchard rubbing. Birds-nesting. less indolent, the higher branches of literature might have been added to my attainments. Such were my indolence and love of amusement, however, that, despite all the efforts of my teacher, I made but little progress, to thf great grief of my parents, and to my own subsequent sorrow. Such was the intensity of my love of amusement, that ji frequently involved me in trouble and perplexity, wasted a large proportion of my precious time, and, in some cases, made me amenable to the laws of the laud. My favorite amusements were the robbing of orchards and gardens, trapping game, and hunting for birds' nests. In pursuing these Avicked practices, J not unfrequently exposed myselt to the imminent danger of breaiving a limb, and even oi losing my life. In climbing the lofty hedges which surround the ample fields of the English farmer, my flesh often car- ried away abundant in-ooiS of the sharpncsb of the haw- tfiorn's point ; nor did my clothes escape, but were usually lianging in rags, occasioned by a rent from the bough of a tree or the point of a thorn. This naturally excited the dlsi>leasui'c of my parents, especially of my mother, whose needle and thread Avere kept in continual demand through my perseverance in tearing. But neither the displeasure of i)arents, nor the coi^ioral inflictions with whicli they saw tit to punish me, deterred me from my follies. A deep- rooted, innate love of indolent and idle pursuits bore down e\'ery restraint, and urged mc onwards in the career of wrong-doing. These things are mentioned, chiefly, to point my youthful readers to the great and first causes which led to the numer- ous sufferings of my after life ; that they may regard my fault as a beacon light gleaming forth on the sea of lifcr LIFE Of WILLIAM B. LIGIITON. iicstinR. ight have indolence 3 all the ss, to tlu- Libsequent ment, that tv, -Nva.stetl ome cases, [y favorite 1 gardens. ,1 pursuhig sed myselt id even ot ch surround I often car- »f the haw- ere usuallv bough of a xcited th(* ler, whose Ind through displeasure ;li thev saw A deep- bore down Ic career ot hiiy youthful the numer- regard my sea of life* The thieves discovered. and, by its faint radiency, directing their attention to the dangerous rock on whicli I and thousands more have wrecked tlieir infant hopes, viz., disobedience to ^>«re/?^A\ J lad I viekled to their commands, and abstained from idle- ness and folly, I sliould have escaped that censure and puiiisluncnt which made my home an unpleasant place, and sent me, a wandering bov, out on the hijiliwavs of the un- generous and unfeeling world. Two or three instances o\' inv misconduct may not be unnrolitable. ^ly father, being an experienced and [)ractical horticuhu- I'ist, had, by great effort and expense, brought his garden to a very high degree of perfection. Knowing the rude- ness and thoughtlessness of cliiklren, he i)eremptorily for- l>ade them from entering it, without some adult member of the family as a companion, Tiiis pj'ohibition, so evidently reasonable, ought to ha^e been implicitly and readily obeyed. To my shame I violated it, and made frequent secret visits to its richly-laden trees, and wickedly enjoyed tlie guilty pleasure of feasting on its thousand SAveets. On one occasion, in company with my eldest brother, unsus- picious of danger or discovery, I was ladlnn- mvself with the forbidden s[)oil, when approaching footsteps warned us that we Averc in danger of detection. Conscious jjuilt alarmed us greatly, and hastily hiding our fruit, like our tirst parents in Eden, we secreted ourselves among the trees and bushes of the garden. The disturbers of our guilty pleasure proved to be my mother and grandmother, who, informed of our proceedings by a neighbor, were come to drive us plunderers aAvay. Approaching our hiding-place, one of them exclaimed, " Then you are here, you villans, are you ? Come out immediately !" f mxiJ II 1 , 1 1 16 MFi: OF WILLIAM B. LIOIITOJl. ill I Ktiglish pi me laws. We rcmaind as silent as our heavy breathing wouM permit; they commenced a regular search, and soon dis- lodged us from our retreat, and drove us from the garden. It has been stated, that I was extremely fond of trapping game. Now, it mny not be known to all my renders, that this practice is made criminal by the laws of Engliuid ; yet such is the fact, lly those laws, it is a crime to kill any kind of game, unless duly qualified according to law, which (jualification requires the possession of certain properties^, or the payment of a weighty tax. Hence, should any. whom Providence has placed in the lower walks of life. dare to lay his unhallowed hands upon any of those foi- bidden creatures, even though urged to do it by the impe- rious demands of a starving family, the strong, resistless arm of an impious law would drag him from the bosom of a depeiidant wife and children, and consign him to sc> eral years of toilsome life on board die hulks of a seaport, or on the distant shores of some convict colonv. These are laws, which, in my humble o]»inion, ought, if not repealed, at least to be modified, as in their present shape, they are too strongly marked by the odious features of cruelty and tyranny. My father was a strict observer of these laws, and did all that lay in his power to prevent his children or depend- ants from infringing them. He would keep no dog, gun or other instrument of poaching on his premises ; and he sternly and strictly forbade their violation, tlireatning the disobedient with the severest punishment. Such, however, were my waywardness and thoughtlessness of disposition, that my father's commands were but as a spider's thread in the way of my gratification ; and I was too boyish to be much in fear of the law of the land. Hence I would and LIFE OF WILMAM n. LIGIITON. PoarhiiiK. TarentHl jfovcrnment. oon clis- Ttirden. \cr?, that uml; yet kill any Lw, whicli >ropertic?. )ul(l any. LS of lifr. those foi- tlic impo- , rcsistlcFs hosom of to several caport, or Thes*e are repealed. , they are ruelty ami |v«, ami did depcnd- log, gun or and he latning the I, however, [disposition. Is thread in >yish to be would and I did poach, though frequently detected hy my fatlier. At length he adopted a course of very strict and severe disci pline, so that life became a burden, and my home an un- ])leasant jdace. I ardently sighed for nn opporUmlly t(» esca])e from its painful rigors. His po.-itiv(^ Jind oft-repeated j)rohibitions, accom})anied as they ■were Avith the api)licatioji of the rod, and indications of angry disjdeasure, only served to inflame my desires ind increase my ol)stinacy. I^^y experience verified the sentiment of the heathen jioet, whn say? "Vice is provok'^l by ovm'J' r.'ror.!.? restraint : Sick men love most to diinlc, who know ihcv iiiavii'l." Had my dear father depended more on the efTiicacy of appeals to my sense of right and wrong — had h(.> appealed to my affection for him, and used persuasive instead of severe measures — it is highly prol)able, that some of the leading defects of my character might have been neutralized, and J saved from those suiferings that befel me in after life. As it was, my disposition grew worse under his disiplinc, and my aifections became much alienated and Gstr:;ngod. Were a proper line of conduct pursued in the government and education of children, how few j^rojlujatc sons and and daughters, and how few hrohcn-heartcd };arcnts, should Ave find ! Negleot of early religious instruction, connected with wholesome and affectionate restraint, is the ruin of millions. Many parents are too authoritative and severe in their mode of exacting obedience, while others rush into the extreme of foolish fondness, and in reality maintain no government at all. In the former case, home becomes the object of dislike ; in the latter, the half-grown man is seen to usurp the authority of the parent, and to treat his power 18 LIFE OF WILLIAM n. LIGIITOX. Purnnttt the cauHe of thv\t children's nilii. with as little respect, as if its mandates were as unimpor- tant as the wind that murmurs in the grove, or plays sportively on the rippling water,'. "It is not \)n.ren\a\ fondness, nor parental authority, taken separately, that can produce a beneficial effect. A father may be as fond of his offspring as he [)0ssibly can be, and his children be disobedient and rebellious ; he may be as authoritative as the Grand Turk, and his children despise and plot rebellion against him. But let parental authorih/ be tempered with fatherly affection, and let the reins of discipline be steadily held by this powerful but affectionate hand, and there shall the pleasure of God prosper; there will he give his blessing, even " life for evermore." Many fine families have been spoiled, and many ruined, by the separate exercise of these too principles. " Parental affection, when alone, infallibly degenerate? into foolish fondnes -i ; and parental authority frequently de- generates into brutal tyranny, when standing by itself. The first sort of parents will be loved, without being respected ; iha second sort Avill be dreaded, without either respect or esteem. In the first case, obedience is not exacted, and is therefore felt to be unnecessary, as offences of great magni- tude pass without punishment or reprehension. In the second case, rigid (^jxaction renders obedience almost im- possible ; and t]>c smallest delinquency is oftCK punished with the extreuie of torture, which, hardening the mind, renders duty a matter of perfect indifference. " Parents, lay these things to heart ! Teach your children to fear God ; use wholesome discipline ; be determined : begin in time ; mingle strictness and mercy together in all your conduct ; and earnestly pray to God to second your godly discipline with tlje power anci grace of }iis Spirit.'- '£_ % .IFE OF WILLIAM B. LI«HTON. 19 08 unimpor- re, or plays hority, tuken t. A father ' can be, aiul le may be as dren despise ital author it)/ the reins of t affectionate 'osper ; there lore." Many uined, by the y degenerate? requently de- itself. The g respected ; r respect ov acted, and is ,2;rcat magni- |on. In the e almost im- cii punished i«l the mind, I ^ rour children determined : Isrether in all [second your Is Spirit,'^ Volatile dlKiMwition. A Hca rnptJiln. Preparing for a voyngn. That period of my life had now arrived, in which it was necessary for me to make choice of some trade, business, or profession, by which to sustain myself with respectability and usefulness in society. Owing to the changefulness and volatility of my disposition, tins was no easy matter. Added to this, my mind was filled with false and romantic notions of distant places. I was charmed with the interesting adventures of travelers, and ardently longed to rove the wide earth Jincontrolled and fn^e as the forest birds. This disposition lost none of its intensity from the following occurrence : Captain Hewitt, a relative of my father, came to spend a few days with us, on the eve of his depai'turc for a long voyage. To him was communicated the ardency of my desires to enter the held of adventure and travel. lie pro- j)0sed to take me to sea. To this my father agreed, provi- ded the plan met with my hearty concurrence. My young heart danced joyously at tlie idea, and cheerfully consenting I was ordered to commence immediate preparations, and to hold myself in readiness at the sunuuons of my patron. I was now absorbed in the bustle and excitement of pre- )»aration. IMy wliole soul entered into it. My active imagination was IIIIchI with every variety of imagery, and Jiiy brain swam, intoxicated with joyous expectation. One idea filled my mind to the exclusion of all others. The pleasure of a sailor's life stood up before me, a perfect [)aridise of sweets. The thought of leaving home and friends gave me no pang, lv>r I hardly permitted it to have « moments existence. Foolish youth that I was. My joy ;^vas the joy of ignorance — a dream of the mind, which the 'light of sober realities has since painfully dispelled. 20 LIIK OF WILLIAM U. LICJIITON. DlKapiwlntmont. America. < ill My engagetlness almoat cost my father his house ; for one night, wliile selecting papers and books ior an intended Journal, I accidentally set fire to the window-hangings of the chamber, which however, with much difficulty, was extinguished. But all these buoyant hopes and sanguine expectations were fated to be crushed in the bud. Having waited several weeks for the sunnnons of the captain, in vain, I was compelled, however unwilligiily, to yield to disappolnt- Jiiont ; nor did wc ever learn the reason why he did not I'uUil his engagement. This little circumstance is a speci- men in minilure of the daily disappointments which rack tlie brains and tear the hearts of mankind. Shortly after this event had taken its location among the images of the past, the (piestion of " emigration" was seriously agitated in our usually quiet parish, occasioning no little excitement and discontent. America, with its un- surpassed avere filled with blaming eulogies of this far-famed contin(.'nt, until an emigrating fover burnt llercely in the bosoms of thousands. America was believed to be veiy little else than a modern paridise, or an Eljslmn of spontaneous sweets. Among the many who cought this western mania, my father stood foremost, and most ardently did he desire to visit a spot which tlie flattering hand of report painted in colors so attractive and fascinating, iiut the ill heath of my mother-in-law stood as an insuperable barrier in his way, and compelled him to relinquish the idea. The spirit of emigration, though not natural to the Eng- lish, found ti home in thousands of willinor hearts. The UFE OF WILLIAM h. LUniTOK. '^l America. i liousc ; for r un intended -hangings of ilficulty, was 1 expectations living waited lin, in vain, I to disappoint- iiy he did not lee is a speei- ts which rack ion among the igrat ion Cnofcii (>r pBiiKrvtiiin. De«lro of ciiilKratlon xtrong. was ih, occasioning a, Avith its un- constant con- public voice s were tilled lent, until an of thousands, han a modern rn mania, my he desire to [ort painted in lie ill heath oi' |ier in his way, d to the Eng- hearts. The pletusing and enticing accounts, constantly received, tene a perpetually-flowing si)ring of purity and joy. ) ^l! 1 5lli 'i >n3 by the 1 feel that 1 over the le dupe of ee to such ce,for out latever my )ok well to t bad ones Litting off a root tuem t!id correct and affec- siona which )y you, and air life will '■ CHAPTER II. " A youth rode forth from his childhood's home, Through the crowded paths ot the world to roam ; And the green leaves whispered as he passed, • Wherefore, thou dreamer, away so fast ? ' " Hemans. I a:m now about to enter upon that part of my life which exhibits me as a houseless wanderer among the heartless multitudes of mankind. The reader will find a variety of incidents, faithfully and truly detailed. Many facts, simple in themselves, are recorded for the purpose of teaching les- sons of wisdom to parents and children ; should they be useful as the means of correcting the errors of one youth, the labor of the writer will not have been altogether vain. My parents, feeling solicitous for my welfare, and des- pairing of reforming me at home, procured me a situation at a respectable farmer's, about twelve miles from my native village. I staid there but a short time, as my master found liis business insufficient to continue me in his employ. Up- on returning home, my father received me with great cool- ness, and strongly expressed his entire disbelief in the truth of my statements, as to the cause of my return. This was very unfortunate in its operation on my mind, as it only served to increase my unhappiness, and make my dislike of home more bitter and irritating. In the spring of 1819, I was again put to service at some distance from home, in a family, who were remarkal)ly punctilious in their attentions to the externals of religion ; 3* 2G LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIGHTOAT. A jtasnlonate master. A designed oflence. .1 :1 l)ut like the Pharisees, they were evidently utter strangers to its vitality and power. Among other things, 4liey insisted upon a punctual attendance at the house of God, on the part of their dependants — a request perfectly congenial to my feelings, and which I willingly complied with. But with all their care to assume the appear'^nces of i)icty, they were the victims of ungovernable i)assions. ITpon the most trilling occasions, my master would assail me with the (sbullitions of his wrath. With my utmost efforts, it wa.s impossible to escape his harsh and severe censures, which , in most cases, v/ere wholly undeserved. It is not therefore surprising, that I soon became discon- tented and unhappy ; and yet I durst not complain. There- were none to wliom I could vent the feelings of my swell- ing heart. If I returned home, I should lina nu Sympathy ; coolness and anger awaited me there. INIy sorrows were oi' necessity locked up in my own wrctched bosom. I sighed, and wished my own dear mother had lived ; but she, alas I was cold in death, and I had no comforter. My situation, instead of imnroving, became more and more unpleasant. My master grew more odious and tyran- nical every day. On the most insignificant occasions, he swore and threatened as if an evil spirit possessed him • and my situation became so bad, that it seemed to me that the galley-slave enjoyed a lot preferable to mine. For a Avhile, I forbore to resent .his treatment, but at length gave way to carelessness aud neglect, in the hope that he would dismiss me from his service ; and my plan proved success- ful. One morning, being sent to take care of the sheep, I ])urposely loitered by the way. Upon my return, he i)oured out a dreadful volley of abuse, and after exhausting his en . tire stock of oaths and blasphemies, threatened to "kick me LIFE Of WILLIAM B. LIOIITON. 27 ice. A separation. ReHecuonit on a lault of parenu. itrangers Y insisted I, on the lorenial to ith. But icty, they 1 the most with the rts, it wa.> •es, ^vhiehf me (liseon- ,n. There my swell- s' mpathy ; ^ws were oi' I sighed, t she, alas ! more and and tyran- pcasions, he ssed him ; to me that Inc. For a length gave It he would J'ed success- lie sheep, I ), he poured Iting his en. lo " kick me over a ten foot wall," which, though a hard affair, I thought would i)revent some subseciuent trouble, provided we kept our respective sides. However, I made no reply, until he ordered me into the house, to receive my discharge from his .service. This order met with my most perfect acijuiescence ; and I informed him that it should be obeyed to the letter. Upon this, he somewhat modified his tone, and offered terms of reconciliation ; but these I utterly rcpudiuted, and left liim, ilctermined to go any where rather than to stay with him, or to return home. This circumstance stands among the many ad^('rse ones, which have had their influence in directing my fate, and forming my character. It shows the necessity of a perfect acquaintance with the real character of employers, on the i)ai*t of those parents who send their children from beneath their own immediate charge — a })rc- caution but too commonly neglected. Now it was, that the unhappy coolness which subsisted between my [)arents and myself began to produce its dark and deleterious fruits — fruits alike distasteful to both [)ar- ties, but especially injurious to me. My home offering me no hap[)iness, I detemiined to gratify my disposition for wandering. My way led through a distant part of my na- tive village ; and, fearful of discovery, I reposed during the remainder of the day in a dry ditch, where I slept soundl} though pretty thoroughly drenched by a shower of rain, which fell in the afternoon. Towards night I resumed my journey, and meeting a shepherd boy, who was acquainted with my family, requested him to inform my friends that I had left my situation, and was on my way to some distant town in search of another. Upon arriving at Boston, I sought the shelter of the tav- ern ; but. observing several of my father's neigfibors, I 28 LIFE OP WILLIAM B. LIGIITOK. A dishonest drover. A new mnster. •I I I H! i^i >iV quickly retired, to prevent detection, and spent the night in a very dejected and melancholy state of mind, under a more Inimble roof. The next morning, at an early hour, I pur- sued my way to Spillsby, where I airived in the evening. There I met with a drover, who pci'suaded me to accompa- ny him to a cattle fair. From thence, he engaged me to assist him with a drove of cattle to Horncastle. On my way, liapj)ening to stop at a hotel for refreshment, the land- lord hired me to become his groom after I should return from Horncastle. After a day's hard travel, the evening beheld me, drover, and cattle, safely lodged at the place of our destination. Here the drover, most ungenerously and unkindly, treated me as a perfect stranger, refusing me any compensation for my toil, and even pretending not to know me. Feeling myself abused, I retired tombed ; where, after musing awhile on the ingratitude of man, and other subjects suited to my temper of mind, bleep closed my eyes, and shut out from my mind my sorrows and perplexities. Such were my first lessons in the school of experience — such the fruits of juvenile Avandcrinir. Leaving Horncastle in the morning, a few hours travel brought me to the door of my new master, who soon in- stalled me m my office, giving me strict injunctions to be faithful to my various duties. Anxious to please, I exerted my utmost energy to give perfect satisfaction. But the effort was fruitless ; for it soon became apparent that fault- finding was an inherent distemper in my employer, which had ever made it impossible for domestics to continue long in his employ. My condition Avas unpleasant ; like that of the common drudge, it was one of unceasing toil and labor. Even the Sabbath brought me no rest, as on that sacred it was made my task to take a horse four miles for a day LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIGHTON. 29 A hard situation. The mnfriJitrateN advice. A discovery. night in r a more r, I piir- cvening. iiccompa- ed me to On my the land- ild return t evening e place ot* •ously and 12 me any t to know here, after er subjects eyesj and es. Such such the iurs travel soon in- lions to be I exerted But the that fault- Iyer, which Itinue long like that of land labor. hat sacred liles for a clergyman, and return on foot before breakfast, and in the evening to go on foot and bring it b.ick a;^ain. Nor was my food either suflRcient or good ; it consisted of a little half- boiled meat, and of the coarsest bread half-baked, and so full of coals, that it always seemed to me as if it were made up with a paddle-stick, and thrown on the ash-heaj) to re- ceive a moderate scorching. This, and the cniel abuse which my master continually lavished upon me, made my life intolerable, and seemed to force me to seek another change. One morning, after enduring the most unmerciful abuse, I sought a neighboring clergyman, who was a magistrate, in order to obtain redress. Unfortunately he was from home, or, fis 1 afterwards learned, lie would have assisted me, as he had long known of the brutality of my employer. Thti next justice to whom I ajjplied was a gentleman of high rank, who, inste.ad of aSxsisting me, indignantly expressed his surprise that " a boy of my age should have the pre- sumption to prosecute a man, whose superior influence," he said, " would crush me, in defiance of all that I could say or do ; " and continued he, " I strongly suspect that you are as deep in the mud as your master is in the mire ; and you had better go home, and tell your master to get a stick, and give you a good floging." This mode of law-dealing was by no means very agreeable to my feelings ; but there was no alternative but to submit in patience, as I was only a poor, unknown, and defenceless boy. I should have left this tyrant of an innkeeper immediate- ly, but for a mutual obligation to give a month's notice, pre- yious to seperation. However, I gave him notice that I should quit r.t the end of a month, to his no small chargrin. To live with such a man was next to impossible. 30 LIFE OF WILLIAM R. LIGIITON. Its cptne. Afflictions of p i/entH. Ill . '« I .ill :;li ; ill One day, being engaged in my usual employment, a boy came and questioned me about my home and ])arents, in such a manner as showed him to be acquainted with my liistory. From his statements it ajipeared that a gentleman in the neighborhood intended to write to my friends, and that it was probable my father would come and carry me home. To prevent this, I promised to write myself, which I accordingly did, giving a circumstancial account of all my proceeding?, and promising to return home as soon as my term of hire sliould expire. This discovery of my situation, by my parents was pure- ly accidental ; or, perhaps, it ought to be called provi- dential. Tlie reader will remember my message sent by the shejdierd boy, when on my Avay to Boston. Some time expired before they received it ; but when they did, it fell upon them as a cruelly afflictive stroke. My father imme- diately visited the gentleman whose service I had left ; where, of course, the tidings of my departure were con- firmed. Sad and sorrowful were his reflections then. lie thought of my youth — my Avant of experience — my dan- ger, wandering, for aught he knew, exposed to storm and cold, hunger and nakedness, a ready prey for the wiles of sharpers, and the snares of vice. He trembled for my safety, and offered many a fervent prayer for my preserva- tion. Sleep fled from his pillow, or, if it came, it was only to haunt him Avith painful dreams of his lost son, surround- ed with danger, or ingulfed in misery. Little do wild and recreant children imagine of the sorrow and woe they cre- ate by their misconduct. While they are yielding to the impulses of their untamed passions, the pillows of their fond parents are converted to daggers. Solemn will be the account which such children will have to give in the day of judgment ! LIFE OF -WILLIAM B. LIOIITOX. 81 Its. nt, a boy jcnts, in with my ;entleinan ends, and ^\^\ carry e myself, [vc'count of e as soon was puvc- led provi- re sent by Some time did, it fell her imme- had lefi; were con- then. He ■my dan- storm and Ihe wiles of led for my preserva- it was only I, surround- wild and they cre- iig to the s of their will be the the day of BccoinvK n day labnrtT. Tries lo enlist. Xo intelligence of my situation was ali'orded to liis anx- iou.s incpiirie."*, until, at a ))arty in lii.s neighborhood, tiic .sub- ject was mentioned, und a gentleman, from the place Avliere I was living, observed that a boy answering such a descrip- tion was living as groom at Mr. ll's. This led to my di.s- (ovcry, as the reader has already .seen. Alter my father had heard from me, he sent twice, by two gentlemen, to ascertain my necessities, relieve my wants, and im})ortune me to return liome. lUit, i'uolish boy tlint I •^ was, I madly resisted their entreaties, and, u[)on leaving Mr. 11., cnL^'ined myself as a day-laborer in the suburbs of the town. In this despicable .situation 1 remained for some time ; but waiics being low and labor scarce, it was with tlie ut- most dilliculty that I could obtain a bare subsistence. In consequence of this I left the place, resolved to oiler myself for a soldier, in the vain hoi)e of linding sup|)ort and com- fort. lUit where can a rebellious child find rest? Truly nowliere. Every j)lace is alike a place of misery and dis- comlbrt, while he carries with him a wicked and obstinate heart. rpon arriving at Ilorncastle, I found a recruiting party belonging to the second regiment of "Life Guards;" but they rejected me as being too short. Determined not to be disai)pointed, I started lor Lincoln, an adjoining town. The weather being severe and stormy, I found it difllcult and un- pleasant travelling ; yet I urged on my tedious way along a road, M'hieh in some i)laces was literally lined with pat- ridges and pheasants, so tame as easily to be caught j but the iron arm of the law defended them with the strongest penalties. At Lincoln, I offered myself to a pai-ty of the 33d regi- ment of infantry, and was again rejected for the same ex- •, !) 'til • ■1'' I! I' 32 LIFE OP LILLIAH D. LIGnTON". Rejected Iwicc. The return. Reception. M f cuse. These disappointments rendered me exceedingly dit- pirited, and I became the wretched victim of despondency ; hope forsook my bosom ; ix)verty, all ghastly and woe- begone, stared mc in the fiicc, while recollections of the busy past crowdeil in quick succession through my heated brain. I thought of my folly and obstinacy, of my discon- tent and disobedience, until conscience lashed me as with a whip of scorpions. Home never a])pcared so lovely as at that moment ; and while its images flitted across my memo- ry, I r* solved that, like the prodigal, I would "arise and go to my father ; " and with much shame and a heavy hejirt, I turned m}'^ steps towards my father's house, where I arrived the next Sabbath afternoon. How many proud youth have done likewise ! My young reader may assure himself that, with all his self-esteem, disobedience and rebellion to pa- rents will lead him to similar humiliation. lUit how did my father receive me ? With harshness and unkindness ? O, no ! But with wide and o})en arms. I was tlieir lost son, happily and unexpectedly restored ; and in the fulness of their parental afltection they lorgave all. Tliey beguiled me into a detail of my sufferings and wan- derings, and while they wept over my sorrows, gave sucli advice as my circumstances seemed to require. "Would that it had made a lasting impression, and produced an abi- ding obedience ! Then had I escaped the sorrows and suf- ferings which befel me in after life. But folly is the char- acteristic of youth, and most severely do they account for it in the " mellow years" — the latter days of life. For a few months I remained at home ; and nothing oc- curred to mar my peace or disturb the mutual harmony of our now happy family. The following summer a gentleman, in an adjoining town, !!i: LIFE or WILLIAM B. LIOIITOK. •J3 nion. Anothi'r bHil niii!«tor. Runs away. iingly <^»L* pondency ; and woc- 0113 of the niy heated my discon- c as with a [ovely as at my meiiio- irise and go vvy heart, I re I arrived yonth have liimself that, cllion to pa- h harshness open arms. ;stored; and torgave all. yg and wan- ., gave such re. Would uced an abi- lows and sut- is the char- .ceount for it nothing oc- harmony of ioimng town, applied to my father for my services. With the full con- sent of my parents, I entered his employ, hoping to meet with better success than in my tbrmer places. But hard and adverse fortune seemed to attend my steps, and my way was filled with thorns. INIy employer, though a profcsHcd Clu-istian, was passionate and cruel. Twice during my stay he whipped me, and that, too, most unjustly. Uninfluenced l>y the bitterne:*s of the past, I again resolved, in the heat of youthful passion, to run away and roam at large over the i'ountry. Foolish purpose ! wicked resolve ! I ought to have complained to my parents, and awaited their decision in patience. In the month of September, my master was taken sick ; and this gave me a fine opportunity to decamp. Happen- ing, just at this time, to meet an old acquaintance, I told him the story of my griefs. He was going to Stamfbixl, to join a militia corps ; and it required but little persuasion to induce me to accompany him. Returning to the house for ray clothes, I met my brother Thomas, who had come to visit me. Determined not to be baflled, I wickedly invented an excuse for not receiving his visit, and joining my thought- less con:panIon, we set out together for Stamford. Thus, a second time, I threw myself from the arms of friends, and rushed upon unknown and unfathomed oviU. When 1 review this period of my life, luid reflect upon my present condition, I feel compelled to thank Him who has been so good to me — who has caused me to escape " the wiles of the devil," and has taught me to repose on the bosom of Jesus Christ. Af\cr a day's hard travel, we stopped at a tavern, where, to my astonishment, I learned that my companion was pen- niless. To meet our necessities I sold my watch ; and be- H LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIOUTON. II ' A wickrd noinimninn. Olililteil to bof. fore we readied Stamford, njy last ^hillinasily awakened hy the language of distress, or the tear of sorrow. Finding a regiment of sol- diers her(!, 1 oflenMl myself as a recruit, but was rejected. Necessity now induced me to sell every article of cloth- ing which in decency could he disnenscd with. With the avails, 1 left this place, in com])any wiili a youth in a similar situation, to travel where fortune or Pi'ovidcnce might di- rect. Our money Avas soon exiiausted, and, being unable to ob- tain employment, we were compelled to throw ourselves on public charity for support. The idea of being common beggars, exposed to the curses of those to whom wt might apply for aid, was extremely galling, and we could hardly bring ourselves to the attempt. At last, the calls of hunger became so loud and vociferous, that we presented ourselves at the door of a wealthy farmer, and in a piteous tone told our sorrrowful tale ; but his heart, rendered hard by famili- arity with distressed objects, refused to be melted, and with severe language he bade us go our way. Disappointed and dejected, ,3 pursued our journey, and in all probabillity should have sunken with weariness and exhaustion, had not my companion found a relation of his, who resided in that part of the country. From her we obtained a mere morsel ; she being any thing but a cheerful giver. It was enough, however to recruit weary nature, and to strenghen us anew for our task. We arrived that night at Sleaford, a populous town, or- namented with elegant modern buildings, and ancient edi- LIFE OF WILLIAM n. LUiHTON. 86 iiigcd to ny woultl lolt mv- hanlciird ifi;ii5\Ut! of ut of sol- •cjoctctl. of clolh- With the a similar might (li- ible to ob- rselvcs on t common w( might lid hardly of hung(>r ourselves Is tone told by famili- |, and with lointed and irobabilUty ^n, had not led in that re morsel ; as enough, In us anew town, or- Incient edi- VUits tilcarord. C'hcuU tholimkcnprr. Distressed Nltuation. licc's the remains of Guthlf si)lendor, and beautified with the most ddiglitliil of nature's productions. Hut, ulus ! to me all was gloomy and uninltMcstiiig ; for out of the nu- merous habitiulons, not one allbnlcd me a shelter ; out of the prolific storeys of food it con(aiiu«l, not one morsel ollered itself to meet my wants. I filt solitary an)id the hundredi' who flocked along the busy streets. I sighed for my father's home. After some consultation, we agreed to seek a shelter uiKler the roof of some friendly iim. Conscious we could not pay our bill, and unwilling to cheat to any amount, we retired to bed without any supper. So great was our fatigue that we sle])t but little ; and with the earliest beams of moining we ai"ose. Descending the stairs with great trep- idation, we found none but the domestics below. Bidding them prepare our breakfast while we took a short walk, wc left the house and thus cheated theju out of their due for our lodging. This was a very crimijial act, and one which 1 can only think of with shame. My companion discovered atiother of his ac([uaiuta!ices in this place, and from him we obtained a henrty meal. "We next directed our steps towards Lincohi, begging our support by the v/ay. Late in the evening vrc reaeh(!d it, and adopted (he same v/lckod p!;m to obtain a lodging as on the previous night, b;it v.ith less success; lor on leaving in the morning wc were pcrsued by soine of the family, and severely reprehended for our di^honci-ty and deception. Lincoln, the ca])ital or county town of Lincolnshire, is one of the mo.^t noted cities of England. " It is seated on the side of a steep hill oji the Witham, v/hich here divides into tv/o streams. It had formerly fifty churches, now re- duced to thirte .>n, besides the cathedral. The cathedral ia admired for its architecture, v/hich is the richest and lightest ,ll (I 96 LIFE OP WILLIAM B. LIGHTOIT, Lincoln. The retarn home. Hamiliation. Gothic Style ; its great bell, called Tom of Lincohf re- quires twelve men to ring it." Leaving this place, we were completely discouraged, Our hearts sunk within us. We talked about our homes and their comforts, until we were overwhelmed with grief, and mortified for our folly. Seeing no way to prosper, we agreed to go back to our parents. With aching hearts and weary limbs, we commenced our journey homewards in gloomy silence, for otir sorrows were too big for utterance, and we were filled with shame, the natural result of our wicked conduct. Young persons should alwpys remember, that there is a recTconing day before them. On the way I let myself to a gentleman, whose pity had satisfied our liun . rebellion :figainst God. You cannot therefore, expect to possess the smile of the deity until you obey the injunction, " Children obey your parents in the Lord." See Col. iii. 20. Eph. vi. 1. Matt. XV. 4, and Ex. xx. 12. Disobedience to parents is the most fruitful source of wretchedness and misery. The greater number of those, who Qome to an untimely end, confess that this, with the lie youni;. , and a good \j obedience. IS, and drove Y vowed nev- >ut I have no ht this sever- aer kindness, 1 maintaining punishment. of the heart, i excited de- 1, secret mon- mr own ! " God still, in nee? If so, > their righte- ig, and under pless infancy to make you tarn ? Can- yon, that ro then, live in iinority, they ag d'lst their > tx rebellion to possess the n, " Children ii. 20. Eph. ful source of her of those, this, with the .1 ■m I \t ■It i' *, it I !' 0! '^ ■I '■■ :i m r**l| i l:.'l m Ml B LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIGHTON. 39 Boston church-yurd. S ^' iml violation of the holy Siibbiith, were the principal causes of their ruin. These sins raised the Hood-gates, and let in streams of vices, which drowned their souls in crime and ignominy. Reader, art thou guilty? Beware, and take warnmg Humble thyself and repent, or thou wilt be lost forever. From such a fearful fate may God save thee ! But to resume my narrative. After breakfast, my moth- er informed me of her intention to accompany me as far as the neighboring town of Boston. I took an affectionate farewell of all the members of the family, and told my brother Thomas, that " I should not see any of them for ten years at least" — a prediction but too truly fulfilled ! At length, amid their tears and prayers, I left the endearing circle. But oh ! v/liat were my emotions ! I cannot des- cribe them. My trembling heart sunk within me, and I gave vent to my pent-up feelings in a floe ^ of tears, as I look- ed back for the last time upon the liome of my youth. My mother improved the moments occupied by our walk, ill giving me the lest advice. Upon our arrival at Boston, she purchased me a suit of new clothes, and then conducted me into the church-yard, that in solitude, she might take a last embrace of a v/ayv/ard child. That sacred spot — that lonely grave-yard — is still impressed upon my memory. It was there, my mother pressed her last v.'arm kiss of af- fection to my burning cheeks ; tliero, I received her bust embrace : there I heard her last words. They still Hoat upon my ears ; even now do I seem to hear her last expres- sion, " Farewell, my son ; be a good boy." There was a holy sweetness in that voice, which has ever operated like a charm on my soul, and which the clianges of time have not obliterated. Could I reward her for the love and kind- ness she showed me, in this, my never-forgotten trouble, how 40 LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIGHTON. Stroiipth of nititurniil love. gladly would I sieze the precioas opportunity, and tender my willing services at her feet ! The strengh of a mother's attachnient who can express ? It transcends all other at- tachments, in purity, in strength, and in duration ; one of our finest female poets has strongly illusf"ated this remark in one of her best productions. She says — " There is nono In all this cold and ho'lov; world, no fount Of deep, strong, deathless love save that within A mothei-'s heart. It is but pride, wherewith To his fair son the father's eye doth turn, Watching his growth. Ay, on the boy he looks, The bright, glad creature, springing in his path. But as the heir of his great name, the. young And stately tree, whose rising strength ere long Shall bear his trophies well. And th-s is love ! This is man's love ! What marvel ! You ne'er made Your breast the pillow of his infancy, While to the fulness of your heart's glad hoavings His fair check rose and fell, and his bright hair Waved softly to your breast ! You ne'er kept watch Beside him, till the last pale star had set. And morn, all dazzling, as in triumph, broke On your dim, weary eye ; not your's the face Which early faded, throu^^h fond care for him. Hung o'er his sleep, and, duly as heaven's light, Was there to greet his v/akcning ! You ne'er smothed His couch ; ne'er sung him to his rosy rest. Caught his last v/hi^per, v.hoii his voice from yours Had learned soft utterance, pressed your lips to his When fever parched it, hushed hiu wayward cries With patient, vigilant, never- wearied love, No ! these arc icoman's tasks. In these her youth, And bloom of cheek, and buoyancy of heart, Steal from her all unmarked." LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIOIITON. 41 A lonely walk. A new situation. Lhed Being left alone, I pursued my way with diligence, though deeply affected by my recent, and, as I determined, final separation from home. But the pprightliness and buoyan- cy of youth soon triumphed over my dejection. The coun- try through which I passed was surpassingly beautiful, pre- senting a richness of scenery rarely equalled. Beautiful lawns skirted with ancient oaks, the pride of Britain ; and wide-arching elms, under the sheltering foilage of which the bounding deer and timid fawn sought relief from the glowing sunbeam ; splendid mansions, the abode of titled greatness ; gardens and shrubberies, — all lay stretched out before me, while my path lay along the banks of the quiet and beautiful Witham. I felt the influence of the scene, and traveling cheerfully along, employed my mind in form- ing plans for the regulation of my future conduct, and in dreaming splendid day-dreams, which were like a child's soap-bubbles, blown but to break in air. But life has many soap-bubbles. Early in the evening, I arrived at the place of my desti- nation, and was kindly received by the gentleman who had employed me, and soon initiated into the duties of my new station. My master I found to be single, respectable, and tojnperate. His ftimily consisted of himself and housekeep- er, a most lovely woman, whom I soon loved and esteemed as a mother. I now thought I should be happy, and con- tented to spend many years in so pleasant and favorable a situation. But alas ! how delusive are all earthborn hopes ! An unexpected occurrence blasted my prospects, dashed the cup of comfort from my lips, and threw me, once more, an unhappy wanderer upon the wide world. This occurrence was the visit of my master's mother, a most unhappy wom^m, and a notorious scold. She bad no 42 LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIOHTON. An old iiculd. Tiic dismission. sooner arrived twan she commenced lier welli or rather ill- contracted method of censuring and scolding all who came in her way. Her doleful strains commenced with the morn- ing, and ceased only with the day. At night she lodged a short distance from her son's house, and it devolved on me to accompany her home. These few moments she regular- ly improved by pouring out a bitter volley of abuse upon my unoffending head — the most unmcrcil'ul that ever dis- graced a woman's lip. I was always happy to arrive at her door, and thus rid myself of the company of such an abominable old scold. On my way back, it comforted me to reflect that she had, at least, a partial reward in the mis- ery w^hich is consequent upon the possession of so vile a disposition. The amiable woman who was our housekeeper, unable to endure such manifestations of a wretched temper, left her situation. Her place was immediately supplied by one, the very reverse of her disposition, and the exact counterpart of our old scold. She from some cause or other, conceived a dislike towards me, and poured volumes of complaint into my employer's ears. He believed the whole, upon no other evidence than her mere assertion ; and one morning, calling me into his apartment, he gave mc the mean sum of one shilling for my six weeks' labor, and told me I might con- sider myself dismissed from his service. With this trifling pittance, I left for the city of Lincoln, where I spent the following night. There I disposed of such clothing as I could spare, that I might have the means of traveling, and then went to Doncaster, and from thence to LeeVls, in Yorkshire. This place aiibrded many interes- ting objects, which served to divert my mind while my money lasted. The splendid cloth market was the most LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIOnTON. 43 isiun. Lerds' cluth innrkrt ilrsrribcd. rather ill- who came the morn- 5 lodged a ved on me lie regular- ibuse upon at ever dis- rrivc at her of such an )ral'orted me I in the rais- of so vile a er, unable to per, left her by one, the counterpart r, conceived mplaint into pon no other ning, calling sum of one might con- of Lincoln; disposed ol" re the meaiis from thence lany intcres- ^d while my IS the most striking. It is probably the linest in the world, as Leeds itself is one of the most celebrated towns in England, or perhaps in Europe, for woolen mannfactures. The mode of doing business is perhaps peculiar to this market. " At six o'clock in the summer, and about seven in the winter, the market bell rings ; upon which, in a few miiuites, with- out hurry, noise, or the least die;ordcr, the wliule market is filled, all the benches covered with cloth, as close to one another as the pieces can lie lengthways, each proprietor standing l>ehind his own piece. As soon as the bell has (M^ased ringing, the factors and buyeis of all sorts enter the hall and walk up and down, as their occasions direct. AVhen they have pitched upon their cloth, they lean over to the clothier, and by a whisper, in the fewest words imagin- able, the price is stated. One asks, the other bids, and they agree or disagree in a moment. In little more than an liour, all the business is done ; ten or twenty thousand pounds worth of cloth, and sometimes more, is bought and Bold with a whisper only ; the laws of the market, here, being more strictly observed than at any place in England." The rich and splended gas-works, by which the town is lighted up throughout at night, are no small addition to its beauty. During my stay, I was indefatigable in my efforts to ob- tain employment, but in vain. My situation was now ex- ceedingly painful, as winter was rapidly approaching, and to be friendless and moneyless during its inclemencies would *,x[)ose me to much suffering, if not to death. To prevent this, I went to Barnsley and Wakefield, two noted towns, where I obtained only a day or two's labor. As the fair was about to commence at Leeds, I returned thither, in liopes to find something to do amid that scene of bustle and 44 LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIOIITON. Wan jection, " My lad, if you wish to be a soldier, go home and grow a little more, and then we will take you." Disappointed, I next went to York, a city celebrated for the splendor of its cathedral, which is considered one of the most elegant and magnificent Gothic structures, in the Unit- ed Kingdom. Piissing from thence to the next town, 1 found the populace in much tumult and disorder, being en- gaged in burning an elfigy of the reigning king, (George IV.,) whose cruelty and baseness towards his wife had drawn upon him the odium and contempt, not only of his own subjects, but of every feeling and enlightened man in the world, who had become fully acquainted with the sub- ject Calling at a tavern, I learned that a recruiting ser- geant was siatiot.ed there for the night ; upon which I dec!- i I.IFE OF -WILLIAM B. LIOIITOX. 15 ed recmtt. 9 search for ice from the ect of escape r my fortune g necessity, nense armiea lilar impulse, lany unfortu- 1 latter; and enlisted for Upon ham^ le regiment, I jmspcctly ex- )eing liiilf an or soldiers of id, on my n- >me and grow celebrated for Bd one of the in the Unit- kext town, 1 ker, being en- [ing, (George lis wife had |t only of hia 3ned man in nth the sub- [cruiting ser- rhich I deci- '4 A ph'ce or cunnini;. Ita detection. (led to try once more to become a soldier ; my sitnaticm had become tndy dt'i>lor!ible. I had very little clothes remain- ing, and was wholly destitute of money. I retired to bed faint, weary, and supperless. The next niorninjr, determined not to be too short this time, I pro- cured a quunlity of paper, made socks for my feet and drawing my stockings over them, went again to undergo a •Iread ordeal. Placing myself beneath the standard, my height sman who hai)pened to be there, perceiving my destitution, and pitying my condhion, re- lieved my present necessities ; after which he addressed me Lhub' : •• Youn,"^ man, I am in want of a substitute to serve in the militia. Should you like, for a fair compensation, to under- take the service? " Pleased with the prospect of employment, I eagerly replied, " Yes sir, most cheerfully." " What compensation should you require ? " asked he. 46 LIFK OF WILLIAM B. LKillTON. )■*' A ploasHut Intorvlow. An onR.igoment. The mllltiA of England and Anicrlcii. " Whjitcvor you please to give, sir," said I, willing to get CKjciipation at any rale. " Well," n'plied he, " 1 will fijivc you £4 if you will serve jw my substitute for five years in the North York Militia." "Agreed," said I, my eyes sparkling with delight at the prospect of possessing sucth a sum of money. Aceordingly he took m(! home, and hired my board until the meeting of the stafl', for " swearing in," or receiving the; oath of such as were drafted for the mililia. I then took the usual oath, and was duly enlisted. Every thing being nettled, and the gentleman being freed from all responsibili- ty in the case, he refused to pay mc more than £2, promi- sing to pay the remainder when the regiment assembled for duty. As this period was very uncertain, I took the money he offered, and vexed at his dishonorable conduct, determin- ed never to meet or do military dut' >r him, but to depart to some other part of the countr^ This of course was wrong, because one dishonest act can never make another right. The sin of one man does not justify the sin of an- other, although he may be the sufferer by the other's wrongs • better to suffer, than to do wrong. The method pursued in England with the militia is dif- ferent from that in America. There, only a given number is drafted from each town. These assemble one month in a year, for instruction in military duty ; during which term, they are supplied with a suit of regimentals, gun, and equip- ments by the goverment, which are returned at the close of the month's service. In times of peace, however, the mili- tia is seldom or ever called out, though regularly drafted. The next morning, I left the gentleman and militia be- hind, and took the stage on my way to London. At Stam- ford I left the stage, and pursued my way on foot to LIFK OF WILLIAM n. LKillTON. 47 I iinii Aiiirrini. illing to get u will serve •k Militia." ;liglit at the board until eociving the I then took thing being responsibili- \ £2, promi- sscmbled for k the money ct, determin- )ut to depart course was ike another e sin of an- er's wrongs ; ilitia is dif- en number month in a which term, I, and equip- the close of |er, the mili- draftcd. militia be" At Stam- on foot to Arrival at Coventry. The n'crulling M'rK«'iinl. Huntingdon, where, fiilling in company with a young man vho JKul rcc'<'ntlv visited the mctnipolis, he dissuaded inu from going thillier, by convincing me that my inexperience would expose me to great dangei* from the abounding vices and tem[»t.;tionH of that great laboratory of virtue and of crime. Changing my phm through the advice of this new friend, my vacillating stei)H were next ttirned towards Coventry. Destitute, melancholy, and wretched, I walked slowly on, mourning over my untbrtunatc condition. Towards evening, a y<»ung man overtook me, to whom my tale of sorrow was mifolded. He listened with friendly attention, and gave nn* much wholosoinc! and comforting ad\ ice ; for the time being, it ha^ome inlhuMice on my mind; and my remem- brance of this brief "iitervicw is ever accompanied v.illi gratitude for his good intentions and well meant counsels. After he left me, a post-chaise passed, and jumping on b< - hind unperccived by the driver, I was soon in the streets of Coventry. My iirst effort was to obtain something to eat. Not having a farthing of money, begging was my only alterna- tive ; and this failed, lilo one would give me even a crust. At last, meeting a friendly looking man, I asked him, " Sir, is there a recruiting-party in town ?" '' Yes," re])h'cd be ; "do you wish to find one?" *' Yes, I want to enlist," was my eager reply. " "Well, come with me, and I will show you wlierc the sergeant is quartered," said he, evidently pleased with the chance of conducting me to tliiit olficer. He obtained a trifling bounty, as I learned afterwards, for securing me as a recruit. The sergeant to whom he introduced me, afler asking T "IWB^P'"''" ■ Ni^i.>ni lu^fw" wi'iMJWn^l^i*""!! 48 LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIGHTON. The enlistment. f 1 n i! some questions, gave me some bread and cheese, and beer, and procured me a lodging, promising to see to my en- listment in the morning. In the morning he ascertained my height by the military standard, and told me I >vas too short for every regiment but one, which was the COth rifle corps. "With many flaming descriptions of a soldier's life, he urged me to enlist in that ; stating that it was in Ameri- ca, and that the recruits would be sent thither at the earliest opportunity. The information of the location of the regiment settled the question. Here was an opportuni- ty offered to visit the country of which I had read and heard so much, and which had interested my mind so intensely for several years. Being pronounced fit for sen'ice, the sergeant conducted me to the officer appointed to administer the oath of alle- giance. " How long," said this gentleman, " will you serve ?'* " / will serve for life, sir" was my ready and deliberate re- ply. The oath was accordingly administered and sealed, and thus at the early age of fifteen, on he Gth of Decem- ber, 1820, I became a soldier for life in his Britannic Majesty's 60th rifle corps ! — a rash and foslish step, espe- cially the enlisting for life, when it might have been ibr any period not less lluvn .=evcn years. But various considera- tions may be perceived to account for this rashness, though none to justify it. Isij youth, being but a mere l)oy, may ])C some excuse, as thoughtlessness is a usual attendant uj)- on the steps of boyhood. Then I had a lofty and mistaken idea of .a soldier's life ; ixnd what probably influenced me ]noi*e than all was, my previous and obstinate determination never io return home. My father's last words still rang on my ear, " I care not what becomes of you,'' &c. Whenever these cruel words crossed my memory, they always hard- tTFE OF WILLIAM B. LIGHTON. 49 Address to the reader. ;, and beer, to my en- ascertained e I "was too le GOth rifle oldier's life. s in Amcri- her at the location of [1 opportnni- d and heard intensely for It conducted )ath of alle- you serve ?'* eliberate re- and sealed, of Decem- Britannie step, efspe- bcen Ibr any considera- ness, though •e boy, mav tendant uj)- iid mistaken ucnced mu itcrmination till rang on Whenever »vays hard- ened the rii'ing sensibilities of my heart, and detemiined me to continue avvav from home at all hazards. It is hoped the reader will throw the mantle of mer- cy over the j'outhful follies, so candidly developed iu the preceding pages. Let him make that use of them, for which their publication is designed. Like the iudustrions bee gatliering sustenance from humble field-flowers, he may gain lessons of wisdom from the incidents of my early boy- hood. If a parent, he may learn the almost infinite impor- tance of right discipline, and of begining right discipline at the earliest possible period. Lessons of obedience and re- ligion should meet tlie diild when he leaves the cradle, and attend him all the ivay through to manhood. These lessons should be enforced with judgment, with mild firmness, and not with harshness ; it is possible that mildness on the part of my dear father might have saved me ; but, as before remarkcfl, the error was not of the heart. Let parents then studg how to train their littc ones for glory. If the reader be a youth, a discontented youth, he will here have seen, and will also hereafter see, mirrored out before him, the evils which he may expect to suflTer, if, yielding to the impulse of his mistaken views, he should dare to follow my bad example, and rush, like a foollr^h, unprotected lamb, from the fold of his father's house. Hunger and thirst, pain, weariness, and disgrace, and Avretchedness, and some- times ignominy and death, follow in the train of rebellion against parents. I et him then beware and repent ; seek pardon for his past misconduct, of his parents, and of his Creator, and, leaning on the bosom of Jesus Christ, let him learn instruction from his sacred lips. Then will health, happiness, and prosperity attend his steps on earth, and glory, honor, immortality, and eternal life, crown him in the world to corae. 5* r 00 LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIGHTON. An appeal to the yotmg. In reply to a reflection that may cross the reader's mind at this stage of the narrative, tliat many adventures are liere recorded for so young a man, tlie wiiter can only say. that he has strictly adhered to truth in all his statements. sadcr's mind cntures are an only say* statements. CHAPTER III. '• I go, swort friends I Yet lliiiik of juc When spring's young voice awakes the nowers, For we have wandered far and tree, In those bright hours, the violet's hours." I Ajr now about to enter upon the history of what was ji new era in my changeful life. Would that I were better able to describe the scenes, through which, by God's providence, I liavc passed. My spirit rises to God in hum- Ijle adoration and thanksgl\'ing, for his watchfulness and core over me in all my troubles. That goodness constrains me to exclaim with the shepherd poet, " Bless the Lord, C) mv soul and forget not all his benefits." My party of fellow-recruits remained in Coventry about ten days, to permit the sergeant to raise the requisite num- ber to till up the regiment. This time I spent in wander- ing about witli my companions, and in visiting the vai'ious places of amusement and recreation. On some occasions, 1 felt anxious to inform my parents of my situation, but fear- ing that they would take measures to procure my dischnrge. I deferred it fi-om day to day. At last, by making their case my oirn, I wisely wrote a plain and candid account of all my wanderings, and also of my enlistment, requesting an immeditito answer. Soon i\fler writing, we received orders to m.'irch, and I wrote again, informing tliem of this fact. and sttiting the place of my destination. On the morning of our departure we were paraded by the officers, and asked if we had any cause of complaint. H ', ! 52 LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIGIITOX. Writes homo. March of the recruit!". Bad Indging.s. We answered, " No." After whicli, one of the officers gave us some words of advice and caution ; a .step whicli was highly necessary, as we were all the subjects of a bursting and ignorant enthusiasm, occasioned by the false ideas we entertained of the new mode of life we were about to enter. Commanded by an experienced olUcer, we now commenced our march for the Isle of Wight. This journey was an easy one, as we seldom marched over sixteen miles a day. On our wa}', however, Ave met with some discouragements and disagreeables, arising chiefly from the unkindness of the landlords, at whose taverns we were " billeted" on the road. To them the sight of a body of recruits was always dis- agreeable, as they were oblige to lodge them, whether will- ing or not, by the sanctions of the law. Hence they fre- quently treated them with great neglect, insult, and incivili- ty. We were put into beds, in several places, the mere sight of which would make a decent man shudder, and cause his flesh to crawl. Whenever we received good treatment in these houses, we returned it by proper and re- spectful decorum ; and when otherwise, we practised the bad law of retaliation, and kept up a noise like the hooting of owls. Careless alike of threat or importunity, we per- severed in our disturbances, keeping our ungracious hosts awake, until the dawn of day called us to depart. At one place, when the hour of retirement arrived, we w^ere required to follow the landlord. This command we cheerfully obeyed, hoping, from the neat appearance of the place, to find comfortable beds and lodgings. But the con- tinued progression of our march blasted our hopes. Our way was through the back yard towards the stables. This made us look at each other, and ask, inquiringly, if we were to be stabled lilce horses. After conducting us through LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIGHTOX. 53 idgings. )fficers gave wliicli was f a bursting se ideas \vc out to enter, commenced ney was an liles a day. ouragements idness of the on the road, always dis- vhether will- ice they frc- , and incivili- ?.es, the mere shudder, and ceived good ■oper and re- )ractised the } the hooting lity, we per- •acious hosts •t. arrived, we ommand we ranc^ of the Jut the con- opes. Our ibles. This ingly, if we us through Noisy lo(I);ors, A l)ed-rooni described. various windings, he brought us to an upper loft, connected with some out-houses, where he left us with tlic following compliment, " Gentlemen, take which bed you pletise." Sorrowful sight I To be sure we had a light, but it on- ly served to mai " As Caunte the Great, king of England, was walking on the sea-shore at Southampton, accompanied by his courtiers, who offered him the grossest flattery, comparing him to the greatest heroes of antiquity, and asserting that his pov/er was more than human, he ordered a chair to be placed on the beach, while the tide was coming in. Sitting down with a majestic air, he thus addressed himself to the sea : — ' Thou sea, that art a part of my dominions, the land where- on I sit is mine ; — no one ever broke my commands with impunity ; — I therefore charge lliee to come no farther upon my lands, and not presume to wet either my feet or my robe, who am still thy sovereign !" But the sea rolled on as before, and, without ariy respect, not only Avet the skirts of his robe, but likewise splashed his thighs ; on which he rose up suddenly, and addressing himself to his attendants up- braided them for their ridiculous flattery, and very judi- ciously expatiated on the narrow and limited power of the greatest monarch on earth." " Flatterers who praise great men for their imaginary merit, lull them to sleep to their real miseries." Well does the poet say of flattery — " Alas I thy sweet, perfidious voice bretraya His wantoii ears ; with thv siren baits. LIFE OP WILLIAM B. LIGHTON. 65 oved. the place flame, tri- lay of our town, de- i. It was ^cophantic i many of account of eir amuse- valking on 3 courtiers, him to the his pov/er placed on ting down the sea : — ,nd where- nds with ther upon eet or my led on as skirts of I lie rose ants up- cry judi- er of the aise great to their Arrivtl nt Newport. Entrr!< a school of niilitury instrnction. Thou wrapp'st his eyes in mist, then boldly lays Thy lethal gins with crystal gates. Thou lockest every sense with thy false keys, All willing prisoners to thy close deceits: His ear, most nimble where it deaf should be, His eye most blind, where most it ought to see ; And when his heart's most bound, then thinks himself most free.'* From Southampton, we were conveyed by water to Cowcs in tlie Ise of Wight, and from thence were marched to the garrison at Newport, where we arrived late in the evening. The next day we were inspected by a board of officers, and consigned to our respective detachments, to be instructed in the discipline and duties of our new profession. Here, I soon learned that a soldier's life was not so easy and pleasant as I had vainly dreamed. T^il and severe duties constantly attend his steps, and the pi a of youth or inexperience is never accepted in lieu of duty. For the information of the reader, I shall, in detail of my experi- ence, endeavor to give as correct an idea as possible, of a British soldier's life. My first experience was in the initiatory school, where I was taught the first principles of the military art ; and not- withstanding my ungracefulness and awkwardness at first, I was soon pronounced " fit for duty." These schools for mil- itary instruction are usually under the care of men of the most tyrannical disposition, whose unmerciful severity and haughty demeanor beget a decided hostility in the breasts of their defenceless scholars. Thus it was with those who instructed the party with which I Avas connected. The least deviation from the perfection of the evolution we were required to perform; was punished by these myrmidons of brief authority, with the utmost severity ; sometimes, I: :M t^^ 66 LIFE OP AViLLlAM B. LlGIlTON. Short allowance of food. Its effect on morals. The theft. with even brutal ferocity ; often, in a manner totally repug- nant to the prop'jr disciphne of the army, which though severe in itself, does not countenance tyranny on the part of subalterns. Had their treatment of tlie recruits been fully and fairly known to their superiors, they would un- doubtedly have been degraded to the ranks. Our lips, however, were bound by fear ; Ave dared not complain, and therefore unwillingly submitted to their tyranny. But our troubles did not ciul here. To unkind treat- ment was to be added a partial dcprivatior- )f many of the common necessaries of comfortable life. Our daily ration was but one pound of bread, one pound of meat, a pint of soup, a pint of tea, and three or four potatoes — an allow-' ance, had it all been of good quality, barely sufficient to sus- tain nature. But it was not. Our bread \/as of the coarsest and poorest flour ; so dark, that it was nicknamed " brown Tommy," and its adhesive properties were such, that if a piece were thrown against the wall, there it would remain. Nor was the measure at all just ; it was dealt out as choicely as if it had been gold ; so that between short weight and measure, and bad (juality, we were but poorly off for the comforts of life. As a consequence of this scanty allowance, some of the new recruits became addicted to stealing ; others, more re- gardful of duty to God and man, suffered the privations of partial hunger. So great was our distress, that every arti- cle of clothing that could be dispensed with, was sold for food, and much anxiety was manifested in regard to the fu- ture ; some api)lied to their parents for money, and some for means to obtain their discharge, which many of them obtained. One very i)ainful event occurred during our stay at New- i! LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIGHTOK. 67 theft. ally repug- ieh though a the part bruits been would uii- Our lipy, nplain, and kind treat- lany of the daily ration it, a pint of —an allow-' dent to sus- 'v/as of the nicknamed were such, re it would as dealt out ween short but poorly forae of the :, more re- •ivtitions of every arti- is sold for I to the fu- and some iy of them ^y at New- The sentence. The culprit's wicked bond. Hi» punishment. port. A very respectable young married man, of apparent- ly sober habits, overwhelmed with the wretchedness of his situation^ wrote home earnestly entreating his parents to give him the means of procuring his discharge. They either could not or would not grant him his wish ; and in that extremity he was led to adopt a most wicked and un- justifiable measure. He lodged in the same room with the paymaster-sergeant, from whom he contrived to steal twenty pounds, the sum required for his discharge, which he en- closed in a letter, and directed to his father. His crime, however, was soon discovered ; for the post-master at the office where he deposited the letter, feeling somewhat sus- picious on seeing a letter with money from a soldier, made inquiries which led to the discovery of the theft, and the consequent detection of the offender. He was imprisoned, and soon after tried by a court martial, and sentenced to the cruel and ignominious punishment of the lash ; he was to receive three hundred lashes / During his confinement, driven to desperation by his situ- ation, and evidently while deprived of the right use of his reason, he wrote an instrument in his own blood, in which he swore unhallowed allegiance and perpetual confederacy with the prince of darkness, provided he should be enabled to escape his doom, and evade the infliction of his cruel sentence. This wicked document was discovered, and shown to the adjutant, who, after pondering a moment over its mysterious contents, laconically, but unfeelingly observed, " If the devil is in him we will whip him out," — a remark, by the way, characteristic of officers of the army in gene- tal. On the morning of the infliction of his sentence, about two thousand troops were marched to the fatal spot, and 6 58 LIFE OP WILLIAM B. LIGHTON. II jf ! :i ' A rcstrictiun. formed into a hollow square of four men in depth. Then CAme the trembling culprit, who was stripped naked to the waist, and tied to a triangle, erected for the occasion. When the order to commence punishment was given, the strong sympathy of the troojjs expre^'Sed its(!lf in one loud and universal groan. Every blow, while it scarred the back of the criminal, wounded every soldier's heart, and many turned aside their heads from beholding the cruel and sick- ening sight. The bleeding criminal cried in loud and piercing accents for pardon, until the oft-repeated blow created a deathish numbness of flesh, and he became insen- sible to pain ! At last, he fainted from loss of blood, which trickled in streams from his many wounds, and was con- veyed from the brutal scene to the hospital. This painful circumstance produced many alanning fears in my mind. I trembled, lest, by some unfortunate act, I should expose myself to a similar punishment. Sometimes I thought of begging my father to procure my discharge ; but the remembrance of my ingratitude checked me. So I determined to bear my burdens in silence, consoling myself with the hope of better days, when I should join my regi- ment in Canada. Thus do men console themselves under present ills, by looking to a brighter day beyond. There was another circumstance which stood in the way of our enjoyment. We were not permitted, on any account, to go beyond the sound of the drum. One mile in circum- ference was the limit of the territory we were allowed to range ; nor could we travel beyond this limit, without expo- sing ourselves to the treatment of deserters ; which was the infliction of seven hundred lashes, or imprisonment with transportation for life. AVe had but one specimen of this species of punishment, and numbers were then in close con- [i LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIQHTON. 59 An Hilvonture at nii old cnxtle. finement, awaiting their fate with an anxiety almost as painful as the punishment. But notwithstanding all these warnings, I was once nearly involved in a similar disaster. One beautiful afternoon, myself and a few companions were whiling away a leisure hour by a walk through the streets of Newport, when the sight of an ancient castle pro- duced a desire to visit its antiquated walls, which, from report, we understood to be the place where the French prisoners had been confined during the last war with that nation. Our anxiety to visit this spot overcame our fears of punishment ; so, regardless of military restrictions, we pursued our way towards it, and arrived there without inter- ruption ; being then four miles from the garrison and three beyond our prescribed bounds. This fact prevented much enjoyment, as we were haunted by fear of consequences. Yet we surveyed the beautiful scenery without, and then attempted to gain admittance to the interior, as we had heard the fame of its magnificent architecture. We entered a narrow passage, and finding a first gate open, passed to a second, which was in a stufK;ndous arch, and of no ordinary size or workmanship. To open this, our united efforts availed nothing. Peeping through the crevices made in the arch by the mutilating finger of time, we could disco v- OT nothing but doors equally formidable with the one that now opposed our progress. Unable to admit ourselves, we tried to arouse the inmates, first by gently knocking, and then by pulling lustily upon a rope, to which was attached a large door bell. Still no response met our calls. Grow- ing impatient, especially as our time was rapidly expiring, we joined in giving one unanimous call for admission. Each soldier took a stone, and struck the door with all the strength of his arm ; this, together with the ringing of the 60 LIFR OF WILLIAM B. LIOHTON. ;il*'. A narrow csca[)o frnni danfter. Drumming out. The r«gu(>> mnrch. ii bell, reverberated with a most astounding noise along the vaulted roofs of the bUiiding, until its echo became deafeo* ing and terrific. Alarmed at our own noise, and fearing that the inmates would become incensed against us for our boyish and un- seemly conduct, we hastily retired without the outer door, where we met a grave, elderly gentlemen, who justly and severely reprimanded us, and threatened to send for i* picket guard to arrest us. It was well for us we liad reached the outside gate ; else^ by merely closing it, we should have been his prisoners, and dearly should we have paid for our idle adventure. Fearing that he had already sent for a guard, we quickened our pace, and soon reached our prescribed limits in safety. How emblematic is this little fact of the folly of men ! For so trivial a pleasure as is here described, we rashly exposed ourselves to the most degrading of human punishments. Alas ! how many, for advantages equally trivial, expose their precious souls to an everlasting hell ! Reader, dost thou ? Shortly after this, we w^ere Uhlled to witness another species of military punishment, which though \'f;vy mortify- ing to the 'uiferer, is less tinged with barbarity. It is sometimes called " drumming out." The culprit was placed l»etween the ranks, and I'ollowed by the musicians, playing the " rogue's march.*' Ii3 was thus conducted to the con- fines of the garrison, and lefl^o pursue his own course : be- ing now freed from the obligations of his oath, and no longer a military subject. This curious process is generally inflicted for petty thefts and incorrigible profligacy. Many of our number, however, would gladly have exchanged situations with him ; seeing it freed him from the tyrannies to which, in common, with ourselves,, he had been exposed^. LIFE OP WILLIAM B. LIOIITON. 61 A letter from homo. To me, it would have been the greatest favor they could have conferred. But alas ! I was only permitted to trace in imagination the road that led to my father's house, while the sad reality of my situation remained a dagger in my heart. O miserable prospect ! — a perpetuity of bondage, to cease only with life's latest breath ; a barrier insurmounta- ble between me and the social comforts of life. But if my bed was thorny, I had made it so, and therefore had no alterna- tive but to submit in all patience. About this time I received a reply from my father, to the letters sent, as the reader will remember, fW>m Coven- try. The following is a copy : — " Framfton, January l$t, 1821. " Dear Son, . . . ** I have just received, by one post, both your letters sent from Coventry ; and while I approve of your conduct in writing me concerning your situation,, T can but lament your folly in leaving your place, of which I knew nothing until I received your letter, and your extreme rashness tn entering upon a career so humiliating as a soldier's life — a life attended with intolerable hardships, and what is worse, with every species of profanity, lewdness, and wickedness. I hope you will remember to keep yourself clear from these pernicious practices. You know, by this time, they are a swearing set ; be sure you never join them in this respect. * Swear not at all.* You arc now beyond the reach of parental instruction, or at least protection ; and your situation, together with the distance which does and will separate us, will undoubtedly create in future very se- rious anxiety for your welfare ; and I hope your duty as a child, on this point, will be respectfully regarded. I would 6* 62 LIFE OF WILLIAM B. ttOHTOlT^ u'l A Ht of sickness. The hospital. Restoration to hnalth. sincerely advise you to be good and dutiful to your superiors, submissive to all your officers, and respectful in your de- portment } so that I may hear from, and see you again in peace. " Your affectionate father, "WiLLLIAM LiGHTON," This letter 'paved the way for a regular correspondence, while it removed many fears from my muid, and gave me hopes of better days. Towards the spring of the year I had a slight fit of sick- ness, which originated in a cold taken one very wet day, while upon duty. Although my symptoms were not very alarming, yet I was conducted to the hospital, examined, and detained to undergo a course of medicine. While in this place, which was twenty-one days, I underwent more pain than I had ever before experienced. I was deprived of my usual allowance of food, and received, instead, only about a pint of gmel or rice per diem, with but very little of any other food. Towards the close of my sickness, my food was more substantial in kind, though much too small in quantity. While in this situation, I was visited by a com- rade, who, after a few words of kind inquiry concerning my health, gave me a letter, which on opening, I fo!md to be from my father, and contained a small sum of money. This present came most opportunely, as it gave me the means of obtaining a f«^.w comforts during the period of my convalescence. My health having recovered, I returned to my usurl du- ties in the barracks ; looking with strong expectancy for our orders to sail for head quarters in America. These soon after arrived, for ona detachment to hold itself in l*»'i(ii LifB OP WILLIAM B. LIOHTON. 65 A cruel order. Misery of a soldier's wile. readiness to sail for Halifax, Nova Scotia, to join the second battalion of the corps, stationed at that place. Previous to the execution of this order, we were called upon to witness some of the most distressing and heart-rending scenes im-* aginable. Many of the new recruits were married men, whose mis- fortunes, occasioned by the prevalence of distress among the lower class, had induced them to enlist, and whose faithful companions had voluntarily followed them ; choosing to endure the denials and poverty incident to military life, rather than indefinite separation from their beloved hus- bands. Shortly before the time of sailing, the officers cruel- ly ordered all tJ women, above a limited and specified number, to return to their homes. This cruel command was rigorously enforced. Young, virtuous, and innocent women were torn from the eager embraces of devoted husbands, amid sobs and tears. Even now I hear the shrill scream of the women, as, with the keenest agony of heart, they took their long, last, affecting farewell. How wildly +he father gazed, that sad day, on his blooming but unc3n?cious babes, whom he loved as a second self ! But he ^ 'as forced to leave them, the victims of griping poverty. His wife was poor ; her family, too, was poor, and he left them to certain destitution. Fathers felt this on that parting day, and the soldier melted into the marij nay, almost into the soft-hearted woman. The poor broken-hearted mother was in a worse condition. She was forced from her husband ; and in losing him, she lost her all, her only stay in this life. How deplorably wretched the condition of such a woman ! Ever after, the tliought of joys departed must militate against her peace. She retains a faint emblem of the lather «ii i I! ii'ii '!l 111; 1"! - I 14 LlPR OF WlLLlAM B. LIGHTON". Reason for the misery of the English poor. in her child, which only serves to remind her that he is gone forever. This creates a lasting grief, " — — and ends In misery hopeless and profound." At last, she hears that her protector has gone the way of all the earth, leaving her and her child destitute of all means of support — of every thing calculated to sweeten the cup of life. Thus left to cope with the cold world alone, these little ones become common beggars, and often end their lives upon the gallows. Such is the fate of many in England, famed as she is for her benevolence and plenty. Does the reader ask the cause ? It may be found in the wrong administration of public affairs by a bloated and titled aristocracy. These study their own wealth, while the people are left to grope along the tliornj and painful path of poverty. This it was that brought the men in our company to enlist : their separation and the destitution of their families were mere consequences of their situation after becoming soldiers. O England, the clouds are gather- mg blackness around thee ! Thy former lorightness is tar- nished with many a spot, and niethinks thy fate contains afllictions, worse than thy martyrdoms. May the Lord de- fend thy palaces with princes, and thy courts with noble- men, whose characters shall be unblemished ! — Hoping the reader will pardon thii- digression, I will proceed to offer a few more remarks on the subject of the separation of our soldiers from their wives. The reader may have asked the question, if there was no prospect of a reunion for theso separated ones. Evidently but little, unless they could find the means of procuring a discharge : except, indeed, the remote one of the return of LIFE OP WILLIAM B. LIGHTOK. 65 kt he is An affecting: incident. Murch of ihc detaclimcnt to the sea Hide. way of e of all leten the d alone, [ten end many in I plenty, id in the ted and [h, while I painful n in our tution of [situation gather- is tar- contains (Ord de- noble- jing the offer a of our was no ^idently iring a kurn of « the regiment ; but it is weH known, that a regiment, re- turning from a foreign station, is seldom composed of the same men, as when it leaves the shores of home. Death makes large drafts upon them, and many a brave man leaves his bones to whiten on a foreign soil. Some of the soldiers, determined not to be separated, cut und maimed themselves, so as to be unfit for service. One instance, in particular, is impressed upon my memory. A young man, accompanying his wife to Cowes, with the guard that was charged with sending home the women, iisked leave to step aside, which was granted. Secreting himself, for a moment, beneath an arch, he resolutely cut off his thumb with a razor. Throwing the detached mem- ber into a field, he rejoined the rest of the company. His situation was discovered by an officer; he was arrested, and sc^n after, being tried by a court martial, he was sen- tenced to be 2i pioneer for life. Thu.=!, after so severe a loss, he still had to endure the greater pang of separation. What will that God say to the actors in these scenes, whose law thunders, "What, therefore, God hath joined together, let not man put asunder ?" . i^ , . At last, the day came for our embarkation. We hailed it with delight, hoping that a change in circumstances would produce !i alleviation in condition — that better and brighter days aw^aited us. Early on the morning of our departure, we took an affectionate farewell of the aosociates we were to leave behind. Much good feeling was manifested, and many kind wishes interchanged between us. Each seemed to hope that the other miglit prosper in the different parta of the world we were to remove to ; it was truly an inter- esting moment of our lives. The beating of drums called us from the last sad ritea i1«|i!(p» •fii'tm'^'mmf/i.jiijgii'i^wvm'^mwmKvmiiiJi.im jihuhj 66 LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIGHTON. The embMrkation. W ! of the affections, to the sterner duties of the march. So, securing our knapsacks, which were well filled with apparel Buited to the climate, we hurried to the parade-ground ; af- ter due inspection, the command to march was given, and we proceeded towards Cowes, accompanied part way by a band of martial music, playing its most lively airs. This was a prrt of the philosophy of military tactics ; knowing how natural it is for men to feel sad on leaving their coun- try for rn unknown residence, our officers chose this method to excite the animal of our nature to high and joyous feel- ing. But music, though it may soothe the feelings, cannot cure heart wounds, nor heal the gangrene of a festered spir- it ; home has too strong a charm to be broken by the roll of drums. "While waiting on the shore for the boats to convey us to the ship, I employed my time in reviewing the diversified and chequered past — in reflecting on the troubles I had ex- perienced since I left home. Such were my emotions, that I would fain have kissed the soil on which I stood ; and when the boat arrived, I felt reluctant to leave the riever-forg,:tten shores of old Albion. As 1 stept heavily into the boat, I offered a silent prayer for the blessing of Heaven upon myself and friends. After arriving on board, we were all sent below and hatch- ed down, to prevent escape or confusion. The next day, having a fair wind, we weighed anchor and set sail, May 22d, 1821, and soon left far behind us the beauteous and lovely scenes which every where abound in that rock-bound isle. Soon it assumed the appearance of a shapeless mass of matter, intereslino; onlv from the consideration that it was our native land. ti. So, [ipparel id; af- en, and ing a similar danger, soon after, we cast an- chor, to wait for the dawn of day. During all this danger and alarm, two of the watches, amounting to more than a hundred men, were fast locked L^ LIPR OP WILLIAM B. LIQHTON. 71 River St. L:iwrrnce. Anecdote. [tches, )cked t]j ignora of lauger in the embraces of sleep, of safety. When, therefore, the anchor was dropped, draw- ing after it the huge chain cable, with a noise like the crash of falling timbers, these were aroused in great fright and alarm. Snp])osing that they M-ere all going to the bottom, they rushed upon deck in utter confusion, and almost in a state of nudity, screaming and crying aloud for mercy. The scene was at once ludicous and painful ; it was some time before their fea-rs wert^ allayed, and they prevailed upon to retire to their berths below. At dny-light, the fog and darkness disappeared, and we found ourselves riding gaily at anchor in the majestic St. Law- rence. We soon weighed anchor, and, with wide-spread sails, r-^ught the favorin;^ gale, and rapidly ascended this noble stream ; from which in a few hours, refreshing draughts of water were obtained to quencli our burning thirst. A pilot now came on board, and our spirits were highly excited with the prospect of being speedily on shore. The wind, however, soon depressed our rising hopes, for by a sudden change it became adverse, and we could only sail at the changes of the tide ; to add to our discomfort the cap- tain compelled the troops to remain below with closed hatches a great part of the time. This unkind step pre- vented us from enjoying the beautiful scenery of this queen of streams. Several instances of high-handed tyranny occurred du- ring the time we were on board, one of whicii I will men- tion. One day, after washing my ( lothe^ I hung them in the rigging to dry ; at night, they were stolen. Finding them gone, I made proper inquiry, and found them in the possession of the thief, one of my comrades. I reported him to the proper cfP "t, and requested hira to obtain the '2 LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIOnXON. Quebec. The iMndlnff at Montrenl. re^oration of my property. But the tyrant hanghtily bade ine begone, threatening if he heard another word from me, to put me into confinement. Thus, unjustly, I was com- p(;Iled to be silent under the endurance of a grievous wrong. "Well has it been remarked by a certain author, that " when sulyects are ill-treated by subaltern officers, and make re- monstrance to the prince because of the too great authority of his ministers of state, their lot is like that of a man, who, half dead with thirst, approaches a rirer to drink, but, per- (M'iving a crocodile, is obliged to perish for lack of water, or submit to be devoured." We soon arrived in front of the impregnable city of Que- bec, after a tedious voyage of seven weeks ; its buildings and fortifications rose full upon our visions, and filled every heart with animation, and ever}i eye with the 'flashings of delight. Hope had its part in producing this warm excite- ment ; for it whispered of better days to come. The salute of the battery upon our arrival was taken by us as the wel- I'DTue of the Canadas to their future defenders ; and the plentiful supply of provisions sent us from the shore, as an i-^rnest of their intended kindness and humanity towards us. Bat these were fancy's dreams in a young soldier's breast, divlined to be dispelled by the hard hand of reality, and sober c\[)crience. The day after our arrival, another ship, containing two hundred troops, cast anchor beside us, having made her voyage in four weeks. The next day we were all put on board a steamboat, and safely conveyed to Montreal, which we reached in good health and spirits. The officers of the regiment boarded us the moment we touched the whai-f. With much urbanity of manner, they congratulated us up- on our safe arrival, paraded us on board the boat, and then LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIOIITON. 78 A motioy roKlniunt. Brttiih ofticeri«. her Kit oil ^hicli ^f the rhai*f« |s up- then marched us to the barracks ; where we were joyfully hailrrl jind kindly received by the old noldiers of the regiment, who cheerfully divided their provisions among us to meet our immediate wants. We were all detained in the yard of the barracks, until divided and allotted to the several companies. While this was going on, two English offiirers, evidently attracted by }ny extreme youth, kindly questioned me as to my parents, history, &c., in a manner which gjiv*- me great satisfaction. It afforded me jileasure to find j my- self afterwards drafted for their company. For a few days we were treated with considerable lenity. Being allowed many hours of spare time, we visited the ancient and curious buildings of the city ; but these, to my taste, looked poorly compared with what I had seen in thr father-land. The appearance and character of the regi- ment were also matters of surprise to my mind ; it was made up of an odd mixture, a curious medley of the repre- sentatives of almost every nation on earth. There were the grave Englishman, the hardy Scotchman, the thoughtless Irishman, the gay 1 renchman, the sober German, the cun- ning Portuguese, the treacherous Spaniard, the musical Italian, and the boorish Dutchman — an assemblage that made any thing but a pleasing impression upon my mind. Many of them were fierce as the Indian, but most retained the characteristics of the nation to which they belonged. Some few bore the marks of distinguislied zeal and piety ; while others were totally devoid of every religious feeling but superstition, and of every principle but what led to vice ; and many seemed as stupid to all ideas of human duty as the brute of the field. Withal, I felt surprised that British soldiers should imi- tate the semi-barbarian by wearing the hair on the u})pe' 7* ! 18 74 LIFE OP WILLIAM B. LIOHTON. The spell of departed days. lip, which was their practice at that time, though discon- tinued shortly after. Our otficers were mostly men of kind and pliant dispositions; they were made up of English, [rish, Scotch, and Germans. Our commanding officer, Colonel Fitzgerald, was an Irishman by birth, a gentleman by education and property, and possessed a disposition that rnadc him beloved by every soldier under his command. His lady was a w^oman equally beloved and admired, pos- sessing a rare disposition of kindness and benevolence. Her influence was great, and her manners pleiasing. From her sympathy and efforts in behalf of poor, delinquent sol- diers, she Lid obtained the honorable and distinguishing appellation of " the prisoner's advocate" among the troops. Though these trifling privileges, the urbanity of our oflicers, and the novelty of every thing around me, served to keep my mind engaged, and to prevent settled despondency, yet there were moments when my spirit clung with painful tenacity to the things of other days — to de- parted hours — to a lost home and sacrificed friendships. Then my somI would pour out its complaints in solitude and giv€ itself up to all the luxury of grief. O, there is a chaJCPi iu departed days, which enchains and makes us cap- tiye to their spells. The poet has so beautifully expressed the feeling of the lone heart in view of the past, that I can- not refrain from laying before the reader, as expressive of my state of feeling at this period of my changeful experi- ance, the following extract : — " Days of my childhood, hail ! Whose gentle spirits, wandering here Down in the visionary vale, Before mine eyes appear Benignly penaive, beautifully pale. LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIGHTON. 75 An extract. 0, days forever fled, forever dear, Days of my childhood, hail cap- jssed can- Ive of Iperi- " The loud Atlantic Ocean, On England's rugged breast Rocks with harmonious motion His weary waves to rest, And, gleaming round her emerald isles, In all the pomp of sunset smiles. On that romantic shore My parents hailed their first-born boy ; A mother's pangs my mother bore ; My father felt a father's joy." « * . « * « " 1 ight without darkness, without sorrow joy, On earth are all unknown to man ; ' here while I roved a heedless boy, There, while through paths of peac»* I ran, My feet were vexed with puny snares. My bosom stung with insect ciAes ; But Oh ! what light and litilt things Are childhood's woes ! they break no rest ; Like dew-drops on the sky-lark'a winga, While slumbering in his grassy nest, Gone in u moment, when he springs To meet the morn with open breast." * * » « * " To soon my mind's awakening powers Made the light slumbers flee ; Then vanished with the golden hours The morning dreams of infancy ; Sweet were those slumbers, dear those dreams to me ; And yet to mournful memory, lingering here. Sweet are those slumbers, and those dreams are dear ; For hither, from my native clime, The hand that leads Orion forth. And wheels Arcturus round the north, I 76 LIFE OP WILLIAM B. LIGHTOK. An extract. Brought me in life's exulting prime. Blest be that hand ! whelhv'ir it shed Mercies or judgments on my head, Extend the sceptre or exalt the rod, Bleet be that hand — it is the l;and of God. CHAPTER V. "~~^| " The boy was sprung to manhood ; in the wildH Of fiery climes he made himself a liome, _— . on the sea And on the shore he was a wanderrr." BvRoisr. After being allowed a sufficient time to recover from tlie effects of our long and tedious voyage, we commenced the duties of our military life in Canada, by being placed under the care of an experienced sergeant, to be more fully fitted, by continued drillings, for the several parts of a soldier's occupation. As the old soldiers were worn down by toil, this work was prosecuted with much vigor, and we were kept in the field from early morning to dusky eve. Of course, we had no time for recreation, for we were glad to retire to bed as soon as we were freed from the commands of our instructing officer. This was the beginning of our trials — the first monition of experience, dissipating some of our airy visions of ease and rest in America. The insect tribe soon showed themselves to be among our most formidable foes, by depriving us almost entirely of sleep during the night. That tnan-hving genus, the inde- structible bed-bug, had quartered most innumerably in our barracks, and every night they attacked us in whole battal- ions. AVe formed various schemes for their destruction, but still they flourished and increased. Some of my comrades retreated, and slept in the barrack-yard, until the night air threatened to be more ruinous than the insect marauders of our room. I conceived a curious expedient : placing my {i I!! li 78 LIFE OP WILLIAM B. LIGHTON. New enemies. Colonel Andrews. ill bed on the floor, I made a trench around it, and filled it up with water. This I supposed would free me from their in- vasions ; but my opponents were not to be avoided thus ; for they soon came dropping down from the ceiling, like rain drops from the sky. Finding we had no other alternative, we at last gave ourselves up to be devoured at their plea- Bure. We submitted like soldiers who cannot conquer. Many of our number being the devotees of vice in its various forms, we were frequently called to witness their punishment ; which, according to military law, was done with the whip, or cat, as it is technically called. On these melan- choly occasions, our humane colonel would turn away his head and weep, and he generally remitted the greater por- tion of their punishment. Had it not been for the direction of the military law, he would have dispensed with that kind of punishment entirely in his regiment. Happy would it have been for us, had his successors, and his fellow-officers, possessed a kindred kindness ! Unfortunately for us, and for our peace, we were shortly after deprived of his servi- ces ; he being appointed to another and a higher station by his government. He was succeeded by Colonel Andrews, a Scotchman, who was the very reverse of his worthy predecessor. Upon assuming the command, he seemed determined to ruin the peace and destroy the happiness of the whole regiment, by his harsh and tyrannical measures. He began by ordering all the troops, old and young, to the field for exercise — a measure highly offensive to the veteran soldiers, who, lor many years, had been exempted from this, to them, unneces- sary toil. They grumbled and complained without any re- lief, — still they were drilled daily, to their no small chagri-i. Punishment for trivial offences was also made cruelly sev re LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIGHTON. 70 Military piinishinent. The rtiigginR. Ihman, I Upon |in the It, by lering se — a leces- ly re- }V re I the of new colonel. As a necessary consequence, mai the men deserted. Some of ihe deserters were soon tjj.ken ; court-martials were called, and the fearful sentence of sei^en hundred lashes pronounced upon them, and but too faithfully executed. These spectacles, as already hinted, were barbarously se- vere. The poor, condemned soldiers, Sad culprits, doomed to cruel torture, Would sit impatient and inly ruminate Upon the morning's danger. Their gestures wild, Pale cheeks, fixed eyes, and trembling hearts, So changed them, that to our gaze they seemed Of their former selves but horrid ghosts. The unhappy wretch, found guilty of the crime of deser- tion from this military tyranny, and condemned to this cruel infliction, was confined under a watchful guard, until the morning specified by his merciless judges for his punish- ment. The mean while the triangle is erected. This is an instrument composed of three poles placed triangularly, and fastened at the top with an iron bolt ; it is spread wide enough to fasten the legs and hands of the victim to two of them ; a board secured across for the breast to lean uno> , completes this instrument of barbarity. On the day of the punishment, the troops in the garrison are marched into the the yard, and formed into a lai'ge hollow square. Next comes the trembling criminal, guarded by a file of soldiers and an officer. U{)on reaching the triangle they halt, while the adjutant reads the decision and sentence of the court- martial. Then the commanding officer gives the dread com- mand, amid breathless silence, of, "Proceed to punishment !" ii m LItE OP WILLIAM B. LIGHTOJik Mode of flof^ging. The cat of nine tails. The poor deserter is stripped nuked to the waist, and his hands and ankles bound firmly to two arms of the triangle ; thus stretched, and in a posture somewhat leaning forwards? he awaits the application of the whip. The musicians, with the drum or bugle-major, take their stand behind him in single file. There, too, stands the surgeon of the regiment, whose duty it is to watch the symptoms of the sufferer, and to stop the execution when, in his judgment, he is able to endure no more. The bugle-major then orders the musician who stands first in the rank to occupy the post of duty ; this lie does by laying aside his coat, and by proceeding within one pace of the prisoner. Then, raisii ig his body with a strong, muscular effort, he applies the " cat of nine tails '' with all his strength, and with a peculiar whirl brings it to his right again, ready for a second blow. lie continues striking about once in four seconds, until he has given twenty- five lashes, when, at 'he ordor of the major, who counts the blows, he desists, and his place is supplied by a fresh hand. If any of the executioners do not strike with their utmost force, they themselves are whippetl by the major, who is provided with a whip or cane for this purpose. The " cat of nine tails " is composed of nine separate cords, twisted very hard, and having three knots on each cord at regular distances from tlie end ; sometimes the ends are bound with wire, to increase the pain. The whip in usually about eighteen inches in lengLli, and the stock fifteen, making thirty-three inches in the entii'e length ; and in the hands of a skilful practitioner it is a most severe weapon or instrument of torture. The effect of this infliction is a})palling in the extreme- The first blow forces a deep groan from the hapless cul()rit ; the first twenty-five bring blood ; at the close of the Hrst t. l'.->. h ei > 1 X s -J ^i > > N^ .i >% ^ >J Si -^ X » ^ K b^ ^? V *v 1 s Xj ^J V -r\. :s' ^ • V ^ 1 \ ^ V »; ^s^ s \, \ ^ s -v N ^i -1 J •5' 1 "^ \ ^ i vmiuii ^11 HI m iMii 11 i|t nFE OF WILLIA5I B. LIC.t ' ON. 81 The culprit after iiunlshnicnt. ■< •^1 1> .l4 ^ S: ^ ■i \ •N huiulrcd the back is literally torn to pieces, and the warm blood runs in copious streams to the ground ! Sometimes the sufferer in the most suppliant tones ])egs for mercy ; now his unutterable groans rend the air, and anon he howls tor very agony ; then he exclaims, like a second Cain, " My punishment is gi'cater thai\ 1 tan bear." Our colonel — hard-hearted man ! — used to stand unmoved at these scenes, or, biting his lips, (one of his peculiarities,) walk up and down with a}»|>aronlly no feeling or concern. On the contrary, the troop8 were usujilly affecfed to an as- tonishing degree. Some of them I have seen faint, and fall lifeless to the earth, while nearly all turned their heads in sorrow. After the execution, a wet cloth is thrown upon the mangled and blood-stained back of the poor man, and he is conveyed to the hospital, to recover or die, v/hich latter is sometimes the result ; indeed, many have been known to die at the whipping-i)ost ! and others have had their bodies so torn, that their intestines have appeared from their wounds ! O horrid brutality ! Where finds it a parallel but among savages and inquisitors ! Alas, for my country ! that such cruelty should blot the annals of her fair fame ! May it speedily cease from among her children. That the reader may not think I have overdrawn the dark lines of this dark picture, I take the liberty to insert Dr. Adam Clarke's note on the 25th chapter of Deuteronomy, and the 3d verse. " Forty stripes ye may give Idm^ and not exceed." He says, " According to God's institution, a criminal may receive forty stripes ; not one more ! But is the institution fix)m above, or not, that for any offence sentences a man to receive thra hundred, yea, a thousand stripes ? What horrible 8 89 LIFE OF WILLIAM U. LIC.IITON. Dr. Clarke's note. Socrcry of (loiritinc brutality is thi.« ! .and what a reproach to luiiiiaii nature, and the nation in wliich such .sliocking barbarities are cxcrci.sed and tolerated ! Most of the inhabitants of Great Britain have heard of Lord Macartney's embassy to the emperor of China ; and they liave heard also of its complete failure ; but they have not heard of the cause. It api)ears to have been partly occasioned by the following circumstance. "A soldier had been convicted of some petty traffic with one of the natives, and he wa5 sentenced by a court-martial to receive sixty lashes ! Hear my author : ' The soldiers were drawn up in form in the outer court of the palace where lie resided ; and the poor culprit, being fastened to one of the pillars of the great portico, received his punishment ■without mitigation. The abhorrence excited in the breasts of the Chinese at this cruel conduct, as it appeared to them, was demonstrably proved by their words an 1 looks. They expressed their astonishment that a people professing the mildest, the most benevolent religion on earth, as they wish- ed to have it believed, could be guilty of such flagrant inat- tention to its merciful dictates. One of the principal man- darins, who knew a little English, expressed the general sentiment, " Englishmen toe much cruel, too much bad.''* ' " It should have been remarked, that these punishments were always inflicted within the walls of the barracks ; every avenue to the public streets being closed and guarded, to prevent the entrance of the people, and keep from them the knowledge of these insufferable cruelties. No w^onder that they were kept thus partially secret ; for even a fiend might blush to have it known that he had treated a fellow-fiend so cruelly. TV ickedness delights in darkness, and its perpetra- tors should remember that hell is dark, and there they will have to practice at last. LIFK OF WILLIAM B. LIGIITON. 88 Hani trcutmont. Knapsnck dxill. > » Our oppressor continued his severity. Ilartl drill and liarsh trcjitment for minor oflfcnecs thinned our ranks every week. To pi-cvent this he confined us all to the barracks ; upon whieli many of the men swore they would desert at the first moment of their liberation from this confinement ; and, accordingly, in a short time after, we lost a hundred men by desertion ! This wrought the cxasjicrated colonel to the highest pitch of insane anger ; he hardly knew how to vent his wrath. One day he gathered us into close rank after parade, and addressed us in a most vituperative and insulting strain, calling rs rogues and traitors, and threat- ening us with the utmost severity if we dared to disobey his orders. On one occasion I fell under his displeasure. We were on parade, the colonel commanding by means of the bugle. lie gave the words, " Disperse and fire !" in a moment wi' were scattered, when the bugle again sounded — " Assemble and form ranks in double quick." Happening to be some- what in the rear, the adjutant perceived and struck me with his swoixl, and took down my name. I attempted to explain, by telling him that, in a skirmish, a soldier had trodden off the heel of my shoe, and so hindered me from running ; but he answered me Avith an oath, j)ushed me in- to the ranks, and told me that I should be punished. The next day I was ordered, with a number of others, to ^^hiap- sac/c ^nV/;" which consisted in marching and countermarch- ing for hours upon the parade-ground, with our loaded knap- sacks uix)n our backs. The officer in charge of t]uf hiap- sack parti/ was exceedingly vexatious and harassing in his orders ; having utterly exhausted our patience, we refused to obey him. When he gave the word " right," or " left turn," we marched in different directions. At last he brought ^, IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 1.1 ■i&i21 12.5 lit |2j2 ^ 1^ 12.0 11.25 i 1.4 - 6" I 1.6 /] O 7 /A PholograiAic Sdences Corporalion 23 WIST MAIN STRfiT WEkSTER.N.Y. 14SM (716) •72-4503 ^ A 5V <> ^ ^^•^v^ ^^^ ^4^ ^ w^ m IMNi 84 LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIGHTON. Efforts fo prevent desertion. The stern culprit. US to subjection by threatening to " put us under guard ;" Avhen considering tliat the " wisest part of valor is discre- tion," ve quietly submitted the rest of the day ; thus of two evils choosing the least, seeing we were compelled to choose one. To Slop these increasing desertions, every precaution was used. We were compelled to answer the roll-call at least four times a day ; and if at these times any were mis- sing, i)reparations were immediately made for their detec- tion and recovery. This made it next to impossible to escape with any reasonable prospect of getting beyond pur- suit before our absence should be discovered, unless pos- sessed of some means of rapid travelling. Still, such Avere our hardships, that numbers, goaded to the attempt by repeated insults and cruelties, dared to risk the danger. Some of them fortunately escaped, but others were over- taken. Among the latter was a young Englishman, named Arnold, who was tried and sentenced to receive seven hundred lashes. AVhen they lashed him to tlio triangle, he placed a leaden ball between his teeth, and declared he would not ask the remission of his punishment. He kept his word. He uttered neither word, groan, nor prayer dur- ing the tremendous infliction. He put on his clothes with- out assistance, and even taunted the colonel by thanking him for his breakfast. He then walked out of the square, re- gai'dless of the word of command, and the bratal officer ordered him back, and made him march out in proper order. The gi-ound, where he was punished, was thickly sprink- led with blood, and the whip was bathed in gore, so much BO, that it dropped from the end of the '' cat" Insuffera- ble brutality ! Jn the ensuing spring, the unfortunate Arnold made an- I LIFE OP WILLIAM B. LIGHTON. 85 The deserters recovered. EJscape of a prisoner. he kept duF- ^ith- him re- icer eder. ink- luch fera- an- f other futile attempt to desert, in company with a comrade, whose name was Dackenhousen, a young German, the pride of our regiment. They failed, through the treachery of a dastardly farmer. They had taken refuge in his barn when he accidentally discovered them. He promised to keep their hiding-place a secret, until they should escape ; in- stead of which, he gave immediate information to the offi- cers. A guard was sent for their apprehension, and the un- fortunates were brought back to the barracks. The wretch, who informed against them, received thirty dollars for his unmanly act. It is hoped that they proved to be thirty thorns in his heart. Arnold was kept closely confined, chained to a heavy ball, while his case was laid before His Majesty's government in England. He was sentenced to transportation for life I Dackenhousen was put in confinement, to await his trial for desei tion. Fearful c^ the fate that awaited him, he* one night, when the guard was asleep, passed the first senti- nel at the guard-room door; rushed across the barrack- yard, passed another sentinel at the gate, and escaped. Thus he passed two armed soldiers and opened two gates without detection — an act of no ordinary daring. The young soldier on guard at the guard-room door said, that though fully aware of the fact, he was deprived of all power to speak or act. The next morning a number of detach- ments were sent in pursuit with loaded rifles, and orders to take him " dead or alive /" After several days' search, they returned without their prey. He escaped to the United States ; from whence he wrote back to his comrades, invi- ting them all to follow him ; and I verily believe, that, had it not been for fear of detection, the whole regiment would have accepted the invitation. 8* ifT" ill 86 LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIGIITON. ii 11 Mental afflictions. Morul state. For my own part, I was heartily sick of so toilsome « life, but the cruel punishments I had witnessed, and which to mc appeared worse thar death, deterred me from at- tempting desertion. To be resigned to my condition was to mc equally impoissiblc, especially as I had Icanied tliat my regiment, for some cause or other, was a condemned corps* This of course rendered its return to England hicrhly im- probable, so that my hopes of seeing my i>arents, as avcU as the deep disgrace of belonging to a transported regiment, lieightened my uneasiness and increased my disaffection : and should the regiment return, I should still be the subject of the evils of a soldier's life. To increase my misery, I received no communications from my dear parents^ though I had frequently written to them. I supposed thai, indignant at my disobedience, :liey had determined to leave me to plod my way through life impitied and alone. These united causes created a mighty tumult of emotion in my mind, which well nigh hurried me into that depthless vortex of human ruin, dissipation, which the wily tempter of mankind suggested would afford relief, or at least a mitigation of my sorrows. But, blessed ])e the God of my salvation, T was saved from this fatal step — - my mind was mysteriously directed to the great Author of all good, for succor and strength, Often in the darkness 'Of night, I have poured out my griefs to God, and made known my complaints to the only efficient friend of the helpless chil- dren of men. Still I was little better than a heathen ; knowing little else of religion but the form. Blessed be God for his restraining grace, that kept me in these hours of ignorance and danger. To divert my mind as much as possible, I devoted my little leisure to the acquirement of knowledge, attending a lOurs ing a 'j LIFE OF AVILLIAM B* LIGIITON. 87 A friend. His advice. school part of the time, and studying drawing and music the remainder. My comrade, Henry Apple, a German oi' middle age and good attainments assisted me materially in these pursuitti. His regard for me was strong and sincere ; lie gave me the advice of a parent, and delighted to speak of me as his son. To him I related the history of my pa- rentage and travels. He strongly advised mc to desert, al- leging that I could expect nothing but misery while I re- mained in the army. We . should have deserted together, had it not been that the time for which he enlisted was nearly expired. Notwithstanding his advice, I continued to endure my troubles. I formed a p!::vn to obtain my discharge by saving "iny wages. This required twenty pounds sterling. My ])ay amounted to but one shilling and one penny per diem, out of which I had to purchase several articles of food and clothing. To further my design, I gave up my allowance of grog, and received its equivalent in money. But with economy, I could not succeed in saving more than six shil- lings per month ; at which rate, it would have taken six years to accomplish my object. I soon found, however that I must debar myself of the means of acquiring knowledge, or, sparing a pittance for this, I must toil at least twehe years before I could be free. This, with other difficulties which stood in my way, caused me to lay aside my plan as impractiblc. My next effort was directed towards obtaining admission into the band of musicians ; and with this view, I diligently persevered in my musical studies ; hoping thereby to at- tract the attention of the officers, and gain my object. Just as I began to make considerable progress, I was sent for by Captain Pierce, to act as his servant — a situation which f lii III 88 LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIOHTON. Becomes an officer's servant. Culinary misfortunes. at first seemed to promise me some amelioration of condi- tion. But I soon found that it was but another form of a oldier's life, full of bitterness and discomfort. My tasks were arduous and difficult, and my rest continually broken by sitting up until a late hour for my master, who seldom returned from his revels until midnight ; or else he had company at home, where, regai-dless of the claims of mo- rality and religion, they would carouse and gamble, noisy as bedlamites, until a late hour. The captain possessed a taste for show, that led him to spare neither pains nor expense for the attainment of any object of desire ; he required the nicest attention to his wishes, which I endeavored to meet with the utmost promp- titude and carefulness, except that I made but an indiffer- ent cook ; this frequently brought me into trouble, as I had to prepare his breakfast every morning, and occasionally a supper for his guests. One day he gave me a beefs tongue to prepare in a particular manner for his breakfast the fol- '•^wing morning. With great care, the tongue was prepared and placed in the oven, where, through my forgetfulness, it remained all night, and a large fire Imving been kept under it, it was actually baked to a cinder. Afraid to vex him by not placing it on the table, I cut off the burnt parts until it was so reduced in size and altered in shape, that I felt ashamed to put it before him. But there was no alterna- tive ; so, placing it on the table, I retired to watch the mo- tions of its astonished consumer ; he eyed it with wonder and surprise, and seemed unable to divine its nature ; so calling me in, he drew from me a confused account of my harsh cooking ; seeing my confusion and sorrow, he passed over my offence with a slight reprimand. On another occasion, having to make ready a sumptuous T lit' to him until felt rna- mo- ider i so my ssed .lOUS 1 T LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIGIITON. 89 Debasing influence of tyranny. repast for the entertainment of a large party, my helpmate and I had spread the table with its various luxuries. Among other things, were two richly dressed fowls. Happening to leave the room a moment, we were surprised on our return, to find one of them in the possession of a huge cat, which had dragged it from the table to the floor, and was hastily tearing it to pieces. Here was an embarrassment : should we throw it away, we should incur censure or i)unishment, and probably both ; so we cleaned it in the best iwssible manner, and placed it on the table, trembling during the whole supper-time for fear. Happily for us, the fowls were not touched, and so we escaped. These simile facts are not related for any importance they possess in themselves, but merely to acquaint the rea- der, in some measure, with tlie painful state of mind which is produced by being under despotic authority, like that possessed by the officers in the British army, and as was exercised by my master ; it originates in a degrading, slavish fear — a fear which, while it produces the misery of its sub- ject, directly demonstrates the depravity of mankind ; for, were men upright and pure, this unhappy state of mind would neither be caused by tyranny, nor felt by the crushed ; inasmucli as the tyrant and the oppressed would alike be unknown. How destructive is such a fear to the dignity and peace of human nature ! It cramps its energies, para- lyzes its powers, and mildews its principles of peace and liberty. Circumstances like these kept my mind in a state of con- tinual excitement and slavish fear : and although I labored with the utmost diligence to obey the commands of my master, their rigidity was not relaxed, nor his aristocratic haughtiness diminished. Besides this, he allowed me no con^- 90 LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIGHT'^ I Determines to desert. pensation for my services, above my pay and rations as a soldier. These I received from the barracks ; so that my duties, though different in form, were as irksome in degree as before. Seeing, therefore, but little probability of obtain- ing any mitigation of my condition, and no prospect of be- ing freed from my military servitude but by death, I at last resolved to escape, and risk the consequences of desertion, for the probability of liberty and comfort in civil society. There was at that season of the year, the month of Feb- ruary, a vast amount of travel to the United States. This fact filled me with the hope of being able to obtain the means of escape from some one of the numerous travellers engaged in commercial pursuits. But upon reflection it appeared the safest mode to trust no one with my fate ; as like my comrades before mentioned, I might be betrayed. About this time my comrade, Henry Apple, received his discharge, and lefl, with a light heart, the scenes of his sor- row and his toil. His departure raised my determination to its highest pitch, and I commenced preparations for my im- mediate escape. My plans, however, were of the most un- justifiable kind. I intended to take a complete private dress from my master's wardrobe, and make off upon a horse be- longing to Lieutenant Colonel Rumple, who lived under the same roof with my master ; and to supply myself with funds, I resolved to purloin a small sum from one of the officers. Such was my wicked resolve, though my conscience seriously contested the matter with my understanding* I silenced it, however, by pleading the example of two of my fellow-soldiers, who a short time previous had deserted ; the one in a full uniform of his master's, the other in his servant's dress. Thus accoutred, they made off in a linrse and sleigh, and passing for a military officer and his servant, i LIFE OF WILMAM B. LIGHTON. 91 Unjustitlnlilc intentions. Prepares to desert. kling- they escaped. This, however, wiis a poor defence for dis- honesty. There was a sad want of adherence to principle in all this, and no excuse is cTercd to defend it; it was un- (lualifiedly, wholly, totally wrong. At the time, however, it seemed to me that I was justified in taking any thing from men wh.o took every comfort awny from me ; and as to the horse, I firmly resolved to leave it, when I reached the United States, in some place of safety, and then inform the Colonel, by letter, where he might find him. But stern morality and true religion know of no such excuses. Ricjht is Right, and ought not to be violated for any consideration whatever — no, not even to save life. Death is preferable to crime ; and he who dies for virtue and duty gains honor from the great Author of his existence, which transcends, to an infinite degree, the trifling, temporary advantages that sometimes flow from crime. The day arrived in which my project was to be executed. If I succeeded, a happy deliverance from my numerous troubles awaited me ; if I failed, a deeper misery was my certain* destiny. Early in the evening, the Captain aijd Colonel Rumple went, in company, to participate in the pleasures of a splendid ball. Having impatiently waited to hear the tattoo sounded, which called every soldier to the barracks, I prepared to make my exit. At this crisis I was unexpectedly interupted by the entrance of Colonel R.'s servant, who, from my confusion and occupation at the mo- ment, evidently suspected my design. He tried to coax me into the servants' room, where, with the assistance of his companion, he probably designed to secure me. At least I thought so, as I knew he could perceive my design ; so I made him an evasive reply, and he left the room. Watch- ing him as he retired, it was pretty evident to me that he '»>i|.Mi^i«|llilWPJ oi LIJ^E OF AVILLIAM H. LlOIItON. The HiispiciouH xcrviint. lieHortH. A new enemy. A liltter night. was about to make his way to the guard, to report me as a deserter; knowing that he had evidence in my pr-^paration sufficient to convict me, there was no ahcrnative left but to attempt my escape, or stay and receive a deserter's i)unish- men That was the decicive moment, and Ifelt it; andaUliough I had not supplied myself with a change of dress from my master's wardrobe, nor even secured an outer garment, yet I rushed from the house into the stable, saddled and mount- ed the horse, and in a few moments I was gallopi)ing past the barracks, where were the sentinels at their posts, and the guard in the guard-room. Unsuspected I hurried i)ast, and soon left master and troops far in the rear. But though I had escaped the soldiery, T met another powerful and cruel adversary — the r.npitying, unrelenting cold. My dress was totally unlit for such a night-journey amid the snows of a Canada winter ; it consisted of only a pair of woolen regimental pantaloons and vest, a light, thin fustian jacket, a hat, and thin calf-skin shoes. Before I had proceeded many miles, in spite of my utmost exertion, those parts of my person most exposed became stiflt' and frozen. Sometimes I put my hands (for I had no mittens or gloves) under the saddle, and pressed my feet close to my horse's sides ; then I dismounted and ran, but every expedient Avas alike vain ; the cold was mtense ; my feet and ears were past all feeling ; and though I thrashed and rubbed the affected parts, they grew worse and worse, until I thought I should actually freeze to death. To seek shelter for the night I dared not for fear of detection, and to stay out was death. At last, having lost my way, I came to a house which appeared to have a brisk fire burning within. I approached, stopped my horse, and after peeping through I ^ . '*ri r night. 10 as a aratioii t but to ; .v>' punish- Itlioufrli •om my lent, yet ' I mount- N. ■ ing past asts, and ^ iecl past, ! . 5 another relenting 1^ >r t-journcy )f only a ight, thin ore I had Ion, those id frozen. ;loves) ly horse's ient was ars were bbed the thought I ;r for the ly out was a house A'ithin. I ig through /. ITFE OF WILLIAM n. LIfillTON. 93 The cure would have put an end to my existence, and I should have per- ished on the roiid. Accordingly, coming to a tavern, I gave my horse into tlie keeping of the ostler, and staggered with much difficulty into the house, my limbs all stiffened, and my jdiysical powers benumbed. Seating myself by the tire I fell in'iv> a heavy sleej), from which I was s-jun awakened by the most excruciating pains, occasioned by the action of the fire upon my frozen extremities. Upon re- moving my shoes, my feet presented a most pitiable appear- ance, being almost entirely covered with blisters, so painful that I could not place my feet to the ground without wring- ing out an unwilling groan. The family gathered round me, not to administer to my necessities, but to gratify an ignoble curiosity, which seemed to have no higher end tl.an to rid themselves of what they feared, from mv appeara!ice, 9 94 LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIGIITON. A suspicrimi?* imrty, The cimiiiii}' landloril. miglit become a troublesome burden to them. They began by expressing their surprise at my unseasonable dress, and at my travelling in the night, and so iar, as from my looks they supposed I liad. To these vexatiouf? (juestions I re- plied in what I conceived to be the best possible Avay to avoid suspicion, but in vain ; the landlord doubted my ve- racity, and sent for several neighboring gentlemen who ex- amined me very closely. IJy this time my pain had so in- creased that I became almost insensible, and ansAvered their ({uestions very incoherently. One of them aslcing me from whence I came, I thoughtlessly but truly replied, " From Montreal." " From Montreal !" exclaimed half a dozen voices at once, " then he is a deserter." " I thought so from his apjicarance," said one of the tavern gossips who had just stepped in for his morning's libation ; " he looks plaguy much like a soldier." These suspicions alarmed me, and shaking off my stupor, I ])lead my case so eloquently, that most of them Averc satisfied that I was not a deserter ; and they Avent away expressing their belief in my innocence. Not so, however, with the avaricious landlord; he fixed his hawkish eye upon me, and asked, " Are you willing to go back to St. John's Avltli me, Avhcrc I can enquire if such a lad as you has lately deserted?" To produce an impression of my innocency, I readily re- plied, " Yes, sir, I am perfectly Avilling, provided you will bring me back to this ])lace free of expense." ^ " That I Avill do," said he, with a most cunning expression of countenance, " if I find you are no deserter." This was a death blow to all my hopes. To be carried to St. John's was to be detected, for a company belonging to I 4 LIFE OP "VTILLIAM B. LIGHTON. 95 Avnrico hnnlens the henrt. Sinfulness of covetousness. began •,s, and r looks s I i*e- ^vay to ny ve- vho ex- 1 so in- c(l their nc from " From oicea at c of tlio lornings y stupor, em ^verc nt away lowevcr, dsli eye uQ, wlicrc ted?" cadlly rc- oa will r y expression )e carried ilonging to my regiment Vv'as stationed there. Already I felt that I was restored to my tyrants, the helpless victim of their heated wnitli. To escape was impossible, as I coald not move without assistance. O, Avhat were the feelings of my young heart in that hour of sadness ! To conceive them, the reader must fancy himself in my situation. Imagine yourself a poor, destitute stranger, your limbs all sore and blistered, a deserter from tlie army, in the hands of a cruel, hard-hearted man, about to deliver you up to your regiment, where tlie punishment — tlie bloody and barbarous })unish- ment — of tlie "cf^Y," and perha[)S death itself, awaited you. Imngine [dl this, and you will have a faint idea of the ago- nies of my afilioted nnd bleeding lienrt. Perliaps it may be well to explain the cause of this land- lord's anxiety about my relation to the army. It was not that he cared for the interests of the army ; but lie knew, if I w'ere a deserter, and he could be the means of my being delivered up, that a reward of t/firty dollars would pay him for his pains. To gain tliis was the object of his ambition. For this pittance he was willing to expose me to the most shameful of all punishments. Surely, there was no flesh in his obdurate heart. How sti'onn; was his love of monev I It triumphed over his humanity, his feelings, his sympathies. But he stands not alone. Tiiousands arc ruled by this earthly nod — Mammon. At this shrine tliev are reaaration^ .e to the th drawn aost diffi- ^tage, and 13 painful qiicncc ot ucing the ss pained trial and -ico within expected falls under ment their e arrived d me on a barracks?, lar friend? ,proach he Committed to the main guard. turned ghastly pale, and, as if thunderstruck, he could not utter a word, so strong was his emotion at beholding my condition. I was soon placed in the guard-room, a prisone*.' under strong guard. Here, the adjutant visited me in a few moments, expressing his surprise at seeing me, as they had not heard of my detection until my sudden arrival among them. He informed me that my crime was one of higli magnitude ; that it was iinpardonahle ; that, standing char- ged with two crimes, desertion and horse-stealing, my pun- ishment would in all probability be death ! My case was soon reported to the commanding officer, Colonel Andrews, wlio made out an order for my immediate commitment to the main guard ; to this place I was imme- diately marched, hand-cuffed, and guarded by a strong detachment with drawn swords. A lar2;e number of mv anxious comrades followed in our rear, drawn together by curiosity or sympathy, to witness my incarceration. Know- ing that none but the very worst of characters, the most desperate cases, were consigned to this wretched i>lace, it was to me as the signing of my death-warrant. INIy new abode was the very perfection of misery. It contained nothing cheering to a prisoner's desponding heart. Here I was left without comj)anions or fire, my limbs yet sore and stiff, to await a trial that, perchance, might consign me to a shameful and premature grave. How often and how deeply did I sigh over the remembrance of the check- ered past ! and, as I turned my chafed and agonized limbs in vain attemi)ts to rest on the hard floor of my dungeon, the warm tear-stream rolled freely down my cheeks — the outward demonstrations of the inward grief I felt for the folly of my earlier days. O, how I wished that I had been obedient to my parents' wishes ; that I had been contented I M: i 100 LIFE OE* WILLIAM B. LIGIITON. A friend in need. The doctor. A tyrant's visit. to await their pleasure, and follow the direction of their lips. But these were fruitless sorrows ; they undid nothing ; they merely afforded momentary relief to my pent up feelings. Low as I had fall'^n, Providence did not cease to watch for my weal, but raised up for me an unexpected friend, whose intercessions prociired me some sliglit mitigation of my troubles. That friend was Lady Fitzgerald, who, hear- ing of my situation and of my youth, obtained the removal of my handcuffs, and permission for me to sleep in the guard-room ; also tlie privilege of warming myself by the lire during the day. The doctor of the regiment, too, paid me a visit, and examined my wounds ; but liis good inten- tions were frustrated by the harsh and bungling manner of the servant whom he sent to dress my limbs. He handled me as if I were a brute, and caused me more pain than re- lief — an evil I was compelled to submit to with all patience. Captain Pierce, my offended master, was my next visitor. He came, bearing a countenance whose workings besjwke an angry soul within. He saluted me with the most impious threats and awful imprecations imaginable ; which, had he been able to execute them, would have chained me to the lowest abyss of hell. Of these I thouglit that they were but noisy breath. Said he, " I have not the least pity for you ; you may expect that no mercy shall be shown you ; " and then, uttering a fearful oath, he added, "You shall suffer death, you villain, that you may be held up as a warning to others ; and had I overtaken you on the night of your de- sertion, I would have shot you dead on the spot ! /" After this most Christian and manly exhibition of his inward feelings, this courageous soldier left me to my prison and my reflections. O, what may not such tyrannic mons- ters expect, when God comes to judgment I LIFE OP WILLIAM B. LIGIITON. 101 A providentinl mistake. watch friend, ition of 3, liear- •cmoval in llic by the 00, paid ,d inten- anncr of handled than re- patience, ct visitor, (spoke an impious I, had he [lie to the Ley were pity for m you ; " liall suffer jarning to your de- » ton of his my prison Inic mons- Proud tyrants, tremble ! for a weight of woe Hangs in dork storm-clouds of tremendous ire O'er your devoted souls. Black I black with dismal wrath It spreads its awful gloom around your heads, Soon, soon to burst. Then, horrible confusion ! Dismay unutterable ! keen anguish, and vengeance Such as beings infinite inflict. Shall fill your reeking hearts. The piercing cries Of beings immolated by your lordly hands, Shall howl confusion in your frighted ears, And writhe your souls with everlasting woe ! It is a cheering thought, that the designs of men are often happily prevented by the interposition of Divine Provi- dence, whose overruling arm is ever stretched forth for the accomplishment of its own designs of forbearance towards guilty man ; of this my experience affords a striking illus- tration. After my departure, on the night of my desertion, the servant, as I suspected, hastened away to give the alarm ; instead of going to the guard-room, he went first to my master at the ball ; this gave me sufficient time to elude their pursuit that night ; had he gone direct to the guard- room, it is probable my route would have been discovered ; and, as the soldiers pursued me with loaded rifles and pistols, it is more than probable they would have shot me. That slight misstep of the servant rescued me from death, and gave me subsequent time for repentence. Thus I have abundant reason to praise Almighty God for his goodness in so ordering an apparently trival event, that it became the means of saving my life, and also of saving my immortal soul ; for had I perished then, I should have perished in- deed. My soul, all stained with its unpardoned offences, would have sunk deep in perdition's depths, " To wail, to weep, and die ' " ■KM MM 102 LIFE OP "WILLIAM B. LIGHTON. ' ' ti Removal from the mnln gimrd. Carried to jiiil. A misornlile company. After remaining for several days imprisoned in the "main guard," enduring intense agony of both body and mind, I v/as informed of the intention of the officers to commit me to the city prison. Soon after this intelligence, a non-com- missioned officer and two privates brought me my clothes, and said it was tlieir orders to conduct me to the civil prison. The reason assigned for this was, that the military law could take no cognizance of horse-stealing ; consequently, I was to be delivered up to the civil magistrate for trial and pun- ishment, and then, if my penalty ivere less than death, after it was endured, I was recognizable for the act of desertion. At first, the thonglit of this change raised a gleam of hope ; but an after-thought restored all my former gloom* The British law, at that time, punished horse-stealing with deatli. But even here was some small relief; for who would not prefer death to the ignoble and debasing infliction of the bloody lash ? Still I felt my whole soul painfully exercised when I was ushered into the cold, damp prison of Montreal. The harsh grating of the heavy iron doors, the massive iron bolts and bars that secured them, and the sombre, dungeon-like aspect of the whole building, struck an indefinable chill over my shrinking frame ; but there was no retreat. My companions in this abode of crime were of the low- est order, the very debris of society, who seemed, by long continuance in crime, to have almost blotted out their hu- manity, and to have received the image of the arch-fiend himself in its stead. Here I endured hunger and privation without relief, until my heretofore robust frame began to yield under its accumulated deprivations, and threatened a speedy close to my sorrows by dissolution. As it was, it prod. ;ed a weakness which the lapse cf many years did not LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIGIITON. 103 e "main min«lj I nmit me lon-com- clotlieB, n\ prison, law couUl ly, I was and puu- eath, after acsertion. ffleam of ner gloom- baling witli f; for wlio ,ig infliction li painfully ,p prison of doors, the in, and tlie ing, struck bnt tliere I of tlie low- led, by long lit their lui- |e arch-fiend Vd privation _ie began to Lreatened a Fri«! IKiM III lieol OcciipHtloii in prison. ^s it was, it k-ars did not wholly remove. At last, I made an appeal to the liberality of iny regiment. They, with true nobility of soul, com- menced a subscription for my relief; but the cjiptuin, hear- ing of their intention, meanly forbade their raising a single copper. Thus, with ineoneeivable littleness of soul, did this malicious man carry out his threat, "that I should be shown no merrv at all." Again, however, despite the malice of my master, did an ever-watehful Pi'ovidenee raise me u]) a friend in my hour of exti'eniity. Mr AVeidenbecker, a gentleman who knew me when I was Ca})tain Pierce's servant, had, at that time, formed a favorable opinion of my character, and conceived a strong personal attachment for me. lie discovered the true reason of my indiscretion ; he traced my a]tparent crime to a hatred of despotism, rather than to a Avantomiess of character, or a depravation of moral principle ; .and, while lie Avas decided in his condenniation of the crime itself, vet he was vather disj)osed to pity than to condemn. From him I received occasional su])i)lies of food, as also from otlicr persons, whom he interested in my behalf, lie promised to secure me all necessary assistance, and to testify to my ])rc- vious character at my trial, Avhich was expected to come on tlie ensuing spring. Those tokens of friendship were well adapted to afford me comfort, and to ameliorate my condi- tion ; but, notwithstanding all these helps, I had much to endure, and much to snfTer. As I i-ecovered from my lameness, I turned my mind to reading and study, especially to music. The latter study however, was soon forbidden by the jailer, who had a strange distaste for all kinds of mnsic ; but, being a pious man, he sup- plied me with an abundance of religious books, to the read- ing of which I applied wuth persevering industry. In this ^i 1^ I fe I KlndncKM of tho Jailor. LIFE OP WILLIAM n. LlOHTOK. SusiMinso. way I formed a taste for reading and study, which has re- mained with me ever since, and which lias l)ccn of peculiar advantajL^e. Thus from the most discournf^in;^ ])arts of hu- man ex[)erience fruits are sometimes plucked which prove to be tho most rich and ]»roiitable of our whole lives. AVhile my studious hal)its [deased the jailer, they excited the indignation of my fellow-pri.elled to petition for a removal to a sei)arate apnrtment. To this request the jailer kindly con.sented, and gave me a [>U'{i.«ant room in the front part of the pri,,jn, where I had a full view of the street and market-place. As the time of my trial api)roached, I became extremely impatient, my mind being continually on the rack of tortur- ing suspense concerning my destiny. But the time came. and my accusers did not a})pear. My case was deferred tor six months, the time for the sitting of the next court. Thus I was left to be the prey of doubt, uncertainty, and anxiety, through that long period of time, Shortly after the post- ponement of my trial, my regiment was removed to Kings- ten, Upper Canada. This fact ins]>ired me with a short- lived hope that my accusers Avould fail to a])pear against me at the next session of tho court, and that I should be kept until its third sitting; and then, through absence and default of witnesses, be set free. Foolish thought ! My cruel prosecutors only neglected to appear at the first court, in order to prolong my imprisonment, and increase my susi)ense and suifering. Such mode of revenge be- speaks the ineffable meanness of their minds ; gentlemen would have scorned such Ioav malice ; it was unworthy of their profession and standing in society. But how few are tc- be judged of by their profession ! Many a fool wears a gown, and many a coward carries a sword. t LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIGIITON. 10^ The trlitl. has !'•'- peculiar s of \n\- •h prove s. r excited cquencc. ion for a room in cw of the cxtremoly of tortur- imc oiime. pferretl for ,rt. Thus lid anxiety, the post- to Kings- Ill a sliort- lar against sliould bt' |)sence and Ai^Ut! Uy the first Id increase 3vengc be- cjentlemen Inworthy of low few are lol wearfe a I Previous to the approach of the next court, I addressed a note to a celebrated counsellor in the city, who visited mfo^ and promised to become my advocate. I also prepared an address to the court soliciting its compassion. At last, the court sat ; my accusers arrived ; and, escorted by a strong guard of constables, I was placed at the bar. The solcmni ty of the scene, the importance of my case, and the haught; bearing of my ace isers, overwhelmed me with confusion, anfl I almost fell to the ground. I was asked the question, after the reading of the charges, " Guilty, or not guilty ?" AVith a faltering voice, I responded, " Not guilty." For some cause or other, it was determined to defer my trial until the next day, and I was ordered back to prison. This seasonable delay afforded me leisure to fortify my mind, and to recover from my confusion. The next day T entered the court with more firmness of feeling and of manner. The court was 'crowded to excess, many persons* being attracted thither on account of my youth, and a deep and thrilling interest was manifested through every part of my trial. When the jury was impanelled, I took care to challenge all whose countenances were not indicative of youth and sympathy, thinking that those who were in thf prime of life would feel more interested in my behalf, and decide under the blended dictates of mercy and justice. Once I was confused, when the lawyer who was to plead my case suddenly went out of court, and left me to the mercy of my prosecutors ; but the jailor, seeing my distress, whispered to me to address the court for an advocate, which I did, and gained my request. The landlord who apprehended me was one of the prin- cipal witnesses, but he was so altered I scarcely knew him. A deathlike paleness overspread his cheeks ; and, as I af- 10 '/I :i ■^1 n »■ < . Uf li-' •k ^ • 106 Lin: OF WILL/AM u. j.Ki/rroJf. Tliu vurdict. KncuurHgeiiiuiit in a tr>iiig iiioinunt. feiwards Icariird, ho died soon af'tci* luy trial. An lioui* f»ui?scd and all tlio Icstiniony was given in ; after my coun- sel had el()ectod, fell upon my mind with great weight of alarm and terror. All my hopes were built on the last words of the a erdict : " AV'c reconmiend him for mercy." These words rang in my ears like the soft symphonies of hope amid the lhund(!rs of de- spair. Still I was pained, and I trembled like the quiver- ing aapen. My lawyer observing my emotion, came to me at the bar, and said, much to my encouragement, " Young man you need not fear death, for the jury have done an act, in recommending you for mercy, which will, in apite of all opi>osition, prove your salvation. No doubt you will receive sentence of death ; put don't despond, for it will not be executed ; but, in the course of a short time, you will be reprieved, and will probably have to suffer one or two years' imprisonment, as the governor may determine." lie then administered a word or two of ad\ice, and leit me with my hearty thanks for his services, which Avere all T had to bestow. I w^as then remanded to prison. The session of the court lasted several da3's, on account of the number of commitments. It resulted in the convic- tion of nine prisoners for capital crimes, besides many others for petty offences and misdemeanors. At the close of the court, myself and eight others 'were brought up to receive sentence from the judge. To describe the scene oii that occasion is a task which my pen is not able to perform, 'riion, every man's strength failed him ; every countenance tit. ny coun- cd tUelv •ci'sutioii, il ullli II itU upon All my ict: "We u my cars icrs of ik- hc ciu'ivcr- ame to mf . jury lijivf licli will, in > deubt you lond, for i^ liort time, suifer oiu' lolenninc." •e, and left ch were all In. |ou account the convic- sidcs many U the close louglit up to Ithe scene on , to perform. I countenance \ \ 1^ |. ^ ^ ^^ m nmimmmmgmim I f ( I t :-i .tL- LIFE OP WILLIAM B. LIGHTON. 107 Receives s'sntence of death. Petition for mercy. betrayed the secret workings of the heart ; every fountain of sorrow was opened, and found vent in floods of tears ; the stout-liearted trembled, and wished he had never been born. There we stood, in a long mournful line, before the judge ; not a word or whisper v.-as heard throughout the court-house ; all was still as death. The judge first in- quired if we had any request to make. In reph'', we all fell upon our knees, and sued most imploringly for pardon ; to which he briefly replied, " It cannot be granted you." Tlie senior judge then arose, and, with much solemnify of manner, pronounced sentence of death upon us in the following words : — " The sentence of the court is, that you shall be taken back to the place from whence you came, and from thence, in four Aveeks, be conveyed to the place of execution, there to be hanged by the neck until you are dead ; and may God Almighty have mercy on your souls." Notwithstanding I had but little apprehension of suffering this dreadful sentence, yet I could not hear it so solemnly pronounced upon me without the most heart-sickening sen- sations. True, I affected indifference, but a deathish weight hung lound my heart; my blood involuntarily chilled as it coursed along its channels, and I could not, Avith my might- iest effort, shake ofl* my fears. Afler hearing this sentence, we were conducted to the prison, loaded Avith irons, and throAvn into the condemned cells, to which none Averc ad- mitted but the clergy and those who had business of the highest importance Avith the prisoners. On the third day after my condemnation, my friend, Mr. Weidenbecker, in company Avith another gentleman, ca.ne to visit me. They suggested the propriety of petitioning 108 LIFE OP WILLIAM B. LIGHTON. Friendship. CliHriicter of fellow prisoners. : t .; I, his excellency the Earl of Dalhousie, the governor, for my reprieve, and offered to prepare it for me. Of course, I gave my assent ; and, the next day, Mr. W. returned with a petition very ably drawn up, for my signature. After I had signed it, he added his own name ; and, after obtaining the signatures of the jurors who sat at my trial, he forwarded it to the governor. Such was the benevolence of this gentle- man, and such his strong attachment to me, that I shall ever remember his name with gratitude. His was a love which approached the nearest to disinterestedness of any thing I ever knew. He unexpectedly became my friend in the gloomy hour of my adversity, and his friendship remained inviolable. "What acquisition so precious as that of a truo friend ? " Nouffht is seen More beautiful, or excellent, or fair, Than face of faihful friend ; fairest when seen In darkest day And many sounds were sweet. Most ravishing and pleasant to the car; But sweeter none than voice of faithful friend ; SNveet always, sweetest heard in loudest storm. Some I remember, and will ne'er forget. My early friends — friends of my evil day. Friends in my mirth, friends in my misery too. Friends given by God, in mercy and iu lovt." As it may not be disagreeable to the reader, I will give a brief description of the character and feelings of my fel- low-prisoners while under condemnation, and in expectation of a speedy and violent death. Seven of our number ',«rere Roman Catholics, natives of Canada, except one, who was a South American. These, in the early part of their con- finement, Averc extremely profane and disgusting in their manners and conversation — a consequence, however, which IIPE OF WILLIAM B. LIGHTON. 109 A religions Visitor. , for my course, I •d with a :er I had ining the ^vardcd it is gentle- shall ever )ve whieh ly thing 1 nd in the remained i of a truo will give a 1 of my fel- ^xpectation Inibei' wevG who was their con- Ini; in their Uer, which very naturally followed from the faith they professed. If they sinned, they found a ready salvo for a guilty oonscienet' in confession to a priest, who, poor man ! pretended to for* give them offences committed ngainst the holy and infinite Jehovali. The other was a Protestant, a mulatto, from tlic United States, whose demeanor was more serious and con- sistent. We were visited daily by Catholic priests, to whom their adherents paid great reverence and attention. A clergyman of the Church of England labored among w- daily, striving to instruct lis in the wisdom of the gospel, and to impress our minds with the importance of obedience t(» its precepts. But we understood little about the vitality of religion, or of its operation upon the heart. For ray own part, although I had received some knowledge of God in my early life, yet I had supposed that a strict attention to morality was all the Bible required. True, I knew that the blessed Jesus had suffered death ; but for what, or for whom, I scarcely knew. Hence, when questioned about faith and repentance, my answers only served to expose my utter ignorance of the subject. This discovery of our moral blindness led the clergyman to spare no efforts, time, or pains to pour instruction into our dark and benighted minds, seri- ously and earnestly exhorting us to attend to the salvation of our precious souls. He pointed out the true and living way, with simplicity and affection, and engaged in the most fervent prayer for Jehovah's blessing upon his labors. This faithful application of divine truth produced many serious reflections upon death, sin, and my own personal guilt ; but, except this, it produced no immediate practical effect, though it proved to be the foundation of my subse- quent conversion to God. His labors, how^ever, were not lost upon the more tender mind of the mulatto j he became pow- 10* no LIFE OP WILLIAM B. LIGHTON. L-^ttnr from an old friend. Elfect of n friend's ppistle. • !■ I fi I ! I erfully convicted, and, beginning to call on God, through our Lord Jesus Christ, he soon found a present and glorious salvation in the Redeemer's precious blood. During thf remainder of his short existence, he gave the most undeni- able evidences of the soundness of his conversion ; truly, he was a " brand plucked out of the fire." While under sentence of death, I received a letter from Mr. Apple, my former comrade, who, as the reader will remember, had recently obtained his discharge. Ilis simple .and friendly communication came very oppor- tunely» and produced a favorable effect upon my mind. My heart was sinking at the wretchedness of my fellow- prisoners, whose terrors increased daily, as the time of their execution approached. Their solemn and intense prepaid tion to meet their awful fate ; the perfect security of our place of confinement ; but^ above all, their deep groans in tlie night season, occasioned by their terrific dreams, were causes powerful enough to disturb the peace of one in the possession of liberty — much more of one who was by no means certain that he would not die a culprit's death. The receipt of this letter, therefore, was a cordial to a fainting spirit ; it cheered and sustained me by awakening the pleas- ing inspirations of hope in my desponding bosom. Those who have been distressed know how to appreciate a kind epistle. It comes a messenger of good, and is prized as a stream of water by the thirsty Arab of the burning desert. At length, the jailer entered our cell, bringing me the welcome news of my reprieve, and promising me that my irons should be taken off, and my lodgings changed, the next day. This intelligence made me rejoice without limitation or degree ; and, notwithstanding my irons, I paced the cell in exultation, and scarcely felt their weight. The same LIFE OP WILLIAM II. LIGHTON. Ill tic. , througli 1 glorious uring the it undeni- )P ♦, truly» etter from eadev will ery oppor- my mind, my fellow- me of their se prepiu" jrity of our .p groans in earns, were one in the was by no [cath. The o a fainting ng the pleas- ,m. Those iciate a kind prized as a Ining desert, ing me the me that my jed, the next iut limitation tced the cell The same Tlio rrrricvc. evening, the jailer removed mc to another room, and I msla no more disturbed v.iili tlie j'risoncrn' melaneholy groans, though I slept but little tliat night ibr joy. In the morning, my irons Avcre removed, and I took possession of my old apartment opposite the publie market. The joy I now felt beggars my powers of description ; had I been wholly lib- erated, I could scarcely have felt more. At this distant moment, I feel sentiments of devotional gratitude to God for his goodness and mercy in delivering mo from my ex- posure to an ignominious death. And my humble prayer to Almighty God is, that the young reader, seeing the evil and danger of criminal conduct, may be persuaded to walk in the path of virtue and true happiness. To that path Religion points, with mild and loving aspect ; follow her directions, dear young reader, and you will escape suffering and disgrace, here and hereafter, and gain a brilliant crown gf immortality and bliss. mm CHAPTER YI. Is this the place our forefaihers nuide fur man. " ;r i A FEW days after my reprieve, the death-warrant for tlie execution of one of the Canadians and the muhitto was re- ceived ; the remainder of the prisoners were reprieved, and brought into my apartment to wait the governor's pleasure- where we rejoiced together in great glee. But, in the midst of our joy, one of our number was thrown back into the deepest despondency by the entrance of the jailor, who informed him that Ms death-warrant had arrived, and that he must be conducted back to the condemned cell to await his execution with the other two. What a sudden and agonizing change was this ! the more painful because of the momentary deliverance which had gleamed like a star of night uponliis spirit. The poor fellow's countenance fell ; he wrung his hands in agony, and gave vent to his feelings in accents of deep and piteous despair. We all sympathized in his distress ; and, amid our tears and affectionate farewells, he was conducted back to his doomed abode, to join his companions in death. The night previous to their execution, we were permitted to pay them a visit. AYe found them, chained and handcuffed, sitting on their iron bedsteads, engaged in acts of devotion. They talked feelingly and freely about their views and prospects. One of them remarked, with great solemnity of manner and expression. ' I have been looking from my grated window, watching LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIGHTON. 113 The visit to tho condemned ce,l. Tlin execution. it for the D was re- eved, and pleasure* the midst k into the jailor, who , and that ^1 to await idden and Luse of the a star of lanco fell ; Lis feelings our tears ick to his rrhe night pay them sitting on ^n. They pro?pccts. Lanner and L watching the sun ; I have seen it set for the last time, and before his next setting I shall be in eternity ; " t!ien, pausing to wipe away the falling tear, he added, "' I am willing to suffer, for I have an evidence that my sins are all forgiven, and that through the merits of Jesus Christ I shall be saved." The mulatto was equally composed and submissive ; his mind seemed to be scripturally at rest ; he said little except in answer to our questions. Our visit was a solemn one ; it was an efi'cctive school, in which to learn the awful results of crime. Here were three, whose breaches of the laws of God and man had reduced them to the prison-house of death ; a few hours, and they were to honor the law they had broken, by enduring its highest sanction. From the edge of the grave tliey begged us to take warning from their sad fate, to refrain from sin, and to live virtuous lives. Then they took us each by the hjind, and with much difficulty the heart-cutting, mutual " good-by " was pronounced ; our feel- ings w^ere all too much choked by Glrong emotion for I'reo utterance or wordy expression. Early the next morning, tlie prison yards and every adja- cent spot were crowded with spectators, who came to witness the awful, practical tragedy of three men put to a violent death. At twelve o'clock the victims were brought from prison, and, with tottering steps, marched in solemn proces- sion to the drop. The ropes were then carefully adjusted to their necks, and after the offering u)i of pra^'cr to God by the clergyman present, who, with solemn earnestness, com- mended their souls to God, the drop fell ; they struggled a few moments, and all was still ; they had gone to their re- ward ! Never did I experience emotions more painful than those which Averc excited in my bosom, as, from a chink in the wall, I gazed on the horrid reality here described ; and I pray God I may never witness a similar scene ! i 1 •^ ! I f 1 114 LIFE OP WILLIAM B. LIGIITON. A mysterious visit. The crimes for which these unfortunates suffered the highest penalty of the law, were burglary, or liouse-break- ing, by two of them, who were accomplices, and stealing some live stock, which Avas afterwards recovered, by the other. That their punishment exceeded the magnitude of their crimes is obvious ; but such, at that time, were the laws of Grreat Britain and her colonies. Such severity is not only unphilosophical, but contrary to the dictates of sound Christianity. This, I am happy to state, has been felt by the law-makers of my still beloved country ; some important modifications have, within a few years, taken place in relation to offences of a higher grade ; death is now inflicted only for offences of the most enormous fia- grancy. Th'', awfully-solemn feelings excited within us by the solemnities just recorded, were soon worn off by anxiety for our own fate. What would be done with us, was a question we could only answer by conjecture ; when, after a few weeks, it was solved in the following mysterious manner. It was evening, and we were engaged in pacing our room, and conversing about the probabilities before us, when we were suddenly alarmed by a noise resembling the rattling of chains, and the approach of several feet towards our cell. Amazement and fear filled our hearts ; every man turned pale ; some expected that we were again to be brought under our fatal sentence, and our reprieve reversed, while a few dared to think that we were about to be taken across the St. Lawrence, and commanded to leave the country — a thought vain as it was pleasing. In the midst of our alarm the door opened ; a number of men entered loaded with chains ; without the least ceremony or explanation they riveted them to our limbs ; this dor*^^ we were ordered down the prison i I i t tU'E Of AViLLlAM ft. LlGllTON. Hi A sudden rcniovul. Coiiliiird for five yviirs in tiuehor jail. crcd the se-brcak- \ stea^i"g d, by tbc initudc of were the severity is dictates of , has been itry; some ;ars, taken e ; death is 3rmons iia- U9 by the anxiety foi- ls a question after a few manner, no- our room, ,s, when we the rattling i'ds our cell, man turned fought under while a few Icross the St. a thought irm the door ith chains ; iveted them |n the prison stairs, and conducted to the yard. There wc found a liorsc and cart in waiting, into which wc weie compelled to cl.'mi- her by our mysterious visitors. AVc were then driven through the main street to the Avharf, and ])ut on hoard a steamboat, which immediately started I'or (Quebec, leaving up? in wonder and astonishment. Our fruitful fancies, liowevei', put an explanation upon this strange movement, and inclined us to the belief that wo were about to be conveved to ller- muda, or some other foreign port, imtil our jailor, avIio wa.? one of our attendants, informed us that avc were all sen- lenced to five years' hard labor in Queb(>c jail, to which place he was now conducting us by order of the governor. At Three Rivers the boat stopi)ed and took in another prisoner, who was under the same sentence with ourselves ; and, after foi'ty-eight hours' sailing, we arri\ed at Quebec. Our future jailor soon came on board; having ascertained our numbers, he left us, and speedily returned with a horse- itavt, in which wc Averc carried to our new abode — a most gloomy and Ibroidding place. Passing through the main entry, Avhich Ava3 closely guarded Avith inm gates and huge wooden doors, avc ascended a flight of steps, and traversed a dismal passage to a room in the north part of the prisf)n. desiiijnated " the Avork house ;" here avc Avere I'oceived 1)a- several companions in distress and confinement, Avhose wretched looks and language bespoke our sympathy and felloAV-feelinix. Here avc Averc visited by the turnkey, accompanied by a blacksmith, Avho, to our no small satisfaction, relieved us of our irons, which had already produced several sAvollen legs and sove hands among us. Our apartment AAas one of the most agreeable in this disagreeable prison ; it afforded us a view of the street, and of the soldiers' barracks, the liveli- I ' H 1(1 ' i il liliM 1 ti. I !l 116 LIFE OF WILLIAM D. LIGIITON. Thn trend-wlifol. Sulli rill? of tho |tri.soner«. ness of which t(MKkd much to miti^iato the loneliness of prison life. lUit the jailer, fearin^^i; we ::hould cscnpe, soon deprived us of this jiparlment, and coniiiied us where wo were more secure, and so secluded, that we could only fco the sentinel as he paced up and down at his post in tho back yard of our p/rison. "We enjoyed one advantage here we did not possess at Montreal, which, to us, was of some value. Visitors were admitted every day to the i)rison, to see those who were confined for petty offences, and who were undergoing an impriL^onment of a few months. By this means we were able to send out for almost any article we could purchase. On the Sabbath day, divine Avorship was regularly per- formed in one of the apartments of the prison — a privi- lege of which 1 was careful to avail myself every Lord's day, without an exception. As before hinted, our imprisonment was to be connected with hard labor ; we were therefore employed to break stones for the public streets, by means of the tread-wheel. The wheel upon which we wrought was very large, and ad- mitted a number of persons upon it at the same time. It was kept in motion by means of steps connected with the shaft, upon which the prisoners, whose weight propelled the machine, were obliged to step with the utmost regularity, or incur the risk of dislocating a leg. Fortunately for us this scheme did not answer the expectations of the pro- jector, and, to our great joy, it was laid aside ; thus we escaped this very disagreeable and arduous species of labor. But, tliat we mi_ siivui-y as trcsitincnt } »ucU cx- of part of ic market, ould have , however, suiess was icrs in the inic mode, )le portion d painting, but gained Id not sell, me of my smoothly, .of distress, d covering econic torn te as to be y cleansed food, had that " be- indefatiga- pectacle at veep. But d as if, for pale of hu- me colleges »r the pros- A cunning dnvlre. It-* (llTovpry. SiilcUln. I porit^ of the United Statcc, she has prisons based on better principles, and conducted as prisons should be — to reform the prisoner, and teach habits of wholesome industry. Despairing of relief, we determined to lessen our amount of toil, by destroying portions of the rope sent to us to pick into oakum. We did this by throwing it into the common sewer of the city, through a drain connected with the prison ; so that out of thirty pounds, we seldom returned above one half. In this way we cleared the prison of the article, and, for a time, were left without any labor. A great failure, however, in the return of oakum, at the end of the contract, created suspicions that we had destroyed it ; but as there was no proof, our misconduct remained un- discovered for a time. But the drain becoming filled up, the jailer inspected it, and found an enormous pile of rope all frozen into one solid mass. Enraged at this discovery, he told us we should pick it all out when the spring opened ; this threat, however, was never put into effect, for, soon af- ter the thaw commenced, and a heavy freshet carried it down the common sewer into the river, and we heard no more about it. The sorrows and hardships we endured drove some of our number to the verge of despair, and led them to think of committing the awful and cowardly sin of suicide ; but they were prevented by the indulgence of a faint and lingering hope of escaping at some favorable opjwrtunity. Suicide, at best, is but a coward's resort. Afraid to brave the ills he sees, he shuts his eyes and madly rushes upon the diiead, unknown realities of an eternal scene. O, how awful must be the meeting of the Deity with that guilty spirit that rush- es, unbidden, into his presence ! O, the fearful disappoint- ment ; the endless, piteous wreck of the soul that strikes on 120 LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIGHTOJT. Letter from an old friend. Designs of escape. >! i I! ! that rock ! Better far is it to endure the trifling ills of this mortal life, though they press our dying frames to death, rather than to throw off the soul's mantle, and rush naked and bloody, into eternity. About this time, prompted by my urgent necessities, I wrote a plain statement of my situation to my old patron, Mr. "W'eidenbecker of Montreal. He returned me a very condescending and affectionate reply, and sent me the names and addresses of two of his acquaintances in Quebec, recommending me to write to them. Taking this advice, I wrote to one of them, who only ridiculed the idea of being addressed by a criminal ! Determined not to be easily dis- couraged, I wrote to him again, and enclosed Mr. W.'s let- ter ; this communication produced a somewhat more favora- ble effect ; he sent me some food and a dollar in money. Failing to obtain permanent relief, and our hard fare and severe toil being still continued without mitigation, I began to despair of brighter days, and resolved to try my fortune in an attempt to escape. To effect this from the room of my confinement, was manifestly impossible ; I therefore directed my attention to another spot, that bade fair to allow of the execution of my plan. In the upper part of the prison was a sort of a store-house, or garret, where we deposited the oakum picked during the week. There were three windows in thi° garret, unprotected by iron bars, and of easy access from the inside, from which some prisoners of war had made ti>eir escape, during the bloody contests of the late American wai*. At my weekly visits to this place, I used to open Ihe windows and look down on the free and busy multitude below ; and such was the excitement produced in my bosom at the possibility of ftn escape, that on several occasions I could scarcely ro^ LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIGIITON. 121 Acquiescence of prisoners. An unwelcome intruder. 3 of this [) deatliy h naked ssities, I I patron, e a very me the Quebec, I advice, of being asily dis- W.'s let- •e favora- lonej. lard fare igation, I o try my from the ►ssible ; I ihat bade le upper ►r garret, le week, ected by >m which uring the \y weekly and look such was sibility of arcely ro frain from making the attempt in open day. To make it, however, I fully decid<'d ; for if retaken, my situation could scarcely be worse ; and if my effort succeeded, O, how my mind revelled amid the sweets of that idea, — liber- ty and subsequent happiness might be mine. To secrete myself among the oakum at one of my visits to the cham- ber, and at night escape from the window by means of a rope, was the plan which seemed the most easy of accom- plishment, and I accordingly adopted it. To put it into execution, however, many things wen necessary. One of the most important was the confidence of my fellow-prisoners, and their consent to keep my absence from the knowledge of the turnkey a sufficient time to permit my escape. So I spread out my plan before them, and succeeded in obtaining a solemn pledge of secre- cy, though they thought it a very daring attempt, as the window was four stories from the ground, and as a very trifling mishap might cost me my life. But I thought that the prospect of liberty was a weight of sufficient magnitude to throw into the scale against the possibility of losing a miserable life ; and I told them that, at all events, with their permission, I would try. The next time we carried oakj-m to the chamber, I sut- cedcd, amid the hurry and confusion of the occasion, in secreting myself beneath the piles of oakum it contained ; the prisoners retired, and now thought I, " all is well ; it will soon be dark, and I will be off from this dismal hole." Sucli were my reflcctior^, when alas ! my swelling hopes tumbled into dust ; footsteps approached, the door opened, and some one exclaimed, " Lighten, come out, or the turnkey will discover you !" To this I made no replv ; and the man continued, 11* f i'i ihi! -i ■ I 'I [1' '•' ■ili 'I I ii I 122 LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIGHTON. A failure. A fresh eifort for escape. " Lighton, I am your friend ; come out, and I will not tell the turnkey ; it is impossible for you to get away, and for your own sake do come out !" Finding that my detection was inevitable, I crept forth from my retreat to see who the intruder might be. He was an orderly prisoner, who had the liberty of the yard, and who assisted the turnkey in his duties. Having missed me from among the rest, he at once suspected the cause, and returning to the garret, hailed me, as already related. Upon leaving my hiding-place I eyed him askance a mo- ment, and then gruffly said, " What do you want with me ? why not let a poor fellow escape if he can?" To this he replied with much evident friendship, " I have apprehended your design, and have come to dissuade you from it ; for it will expose you to death if you fail, and bring me under severe reprehension for not keeping a closer watch." As I stood silent a moment, he continued, " You may possibly make your escape some other way, where I shall not be implicated ; and I will say nothing of this affair if you will come away peaceably." Seeing that I was discovered, I retired to my room much disappointed, to meditiite on some new and more successful mode of getting beyond the gloomy walls of my hated pris- son. This futile attempt was shortly after followed by another equally unsuccessful. Perceiving that it was barely possible to rush by the sentry, when we went out for our water, which was very near the gate in the prison yard, I told my companions that I thought of trying to get off that way. Pleased with my reckless daring, they ex- claimed, " Get away if you can !" LIFE OP WILLIAM B. LIGHTON. 123 le. The attempt. Drageed back to prison. Confined in the dungeon. kvill not ray, and ept forth be. He ihe yardj or missed le cause, f related, ice a mo- )or fellow come to p death if n for not loment, he 3ther way, nothing of oom much: successful lated pris- LUowed by lat it was went out the prison dng to got ., they ex- To aid my purpose they appointed me their orderly, so that I might improve the most favorable opportunity. To avoid suspicion, I went to the pump without my hat, having an old wollen cap stuffed beneath my Avaistband, which one of the prisoners gave me for the occasion. One day, while I was deliberately filling my tub, the sentry turned his head to gaze at some passing novelty ; that was my pre- cious opportunity ; springing to the door, I was iu the street in a moment, running at the top of my speed. But here, again my evil genius attended me ; for just as I passed the door, the turnkey, impatient at my delay, came to the head of the stairs, and stooping down to see what was doing, he discovered a pair of heels. Suspecting foul play, he rushed into the street, shouting with a Stentorian voice, " Stop that prisoner !" The roads were very slippery, being covered with ice ; my shoes were dry, and of course my progress was much impeded by slipping and tumbling ; still I kept onward, until the turnkey, overtaking me, brought me to the ground with a blow, and then firmly grasping me by the collar, he dragged me, an unwilling follower, buck to prison. There the guards were already mustered for pur- suit, and the sentry by whom I had passed was so infuri- ated, that he would have fain run me through with his bayonet. Many spectators had assembled, and the jailer, meeting us, dealt out a number of blows upon my head and face with his fist, and pulled my ears most shamefully ; they then put me into irons, and confined me in the dun- geon — a cold, dark, comfortless hole, unfit for the residence of a satyr. How strange that such a place shoidd have been invented to recover man from folly ! My place of confinement was opposite the guard-house, and the soldiers amused themselves with mimicking my 1 1- Si i 124 LIFE OP WILLIAM B. LIGHTON. Determination of the prisoners to break juil. ■«'; tJ sufferings. This, together with my misery, produced a state of exasperation amounting ahnost to insanity. I shook my irons, knocked at the door, and screamed with great vehemence. At last, my mad efforts exhausted my strength, and brought me to my senses. Ashamed of my folly, I sank down in silence to the floor. From this dun- geon I was soon removed, and once more mingled with my fellow prisoners in the old apartment, though for a week my irons were continued on my person. The condition of the prisoners not being ameliorated by better treatment, they continued to make the most bitter complaints, which, like the whistling breeze, passed unheed- ed and neglected ; and they at last formed a stern determi- nation to break jail the first favorable opportunity : a sol- emn ajrreemcnt to this effect was made, to which we mutu- ally pledged adherence. Our next question was, lohere to make the attempt ; to break from the room we then occu- pied was uLerly impossible, on account of its contiguity to the post of one of the sentries. The room we first occu- pied, however, offered advantages to facilitate our design ; it therefore became ti point of the first importance to obtain its possession. This, of course, could only be done by per- mission of the jailer : to gain this, we behaved ourselves in the most unexceptionable manner, and having secured his good will by our quietness and good order, we humbly re- quested him to permit us to occupy the work-house, on ac- count of its superior size and means of comfort, and also because our room, being small, was likely to promote dis- ease from the impurity of its air. Supposing us to be pin- cere, he granted our request, and gave us the additional in the yard. Our time 1 breaking stones, at one ?ge of walking occasi( ' now employed principalis .i*::;!, i' I LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIGHTON. 125 uced a ty. I id with ted my of my his dun- kvith my a week rated by 5t bitter unheed- determi- r : a sol- k\e mutu- I ivhere to len occu- iguity to rst occu- r design ; to obtain c by per- rselves in 3ured his imbly re- se, on ac- and also mote dis- o be pin- additional Our time fs, at one The oath. Prisoners engage in cutting the t»ars. Manner of working. halfpenny per bushel, we had but little leisure to mature our project. To secure the faithfulness of all, we bound ourselves with an oath to stand or fall together. An old man, named Pireau, acted as our judge to administer the oath ; this ho did in a candid and deliberate manner, requiring each indi- vidual to repeat after him the oath, concluding with, "I agree to the design proposed, and in every respect will prove faithful ; so help me ." He also made every one kiss the Bible, after the English manner of taking an oath. This done, we commenced operations, and the old man was appointed chief. He proposed to cut away the bars of our window, which he said was the only practicable mode of escape ; this was so apparent that we unanimously decided upon that means, and to carry out our purpose we sent by a visitor and procured a knife and a file. Tlie knife, how- ever, was so thick, that it was useless, until we, by dini of much effort, reduced it to a proper size by rubbing it on a stone. This done, the old man, whom we called the " old fox," for his singular cunning, made it into a saw, and hid it over the door frame. Being closely guarded, it was difficult to decide where to make our attempt ; but we ultimately resolved to try the window on the north corner of the prison, as the only one aftbrding a rational probability of success ; it was close to the prison wall, which rose about three feet above the win- dow. We proposed to cut away the inner and outer bars, and then, by means of a plank, which we had already se- cured, to mount the top of the wall, and descend on the other side by means of a rope fastened to the remaining bars of the window. We accordingly began our work, but to avoid detection f;:&. I! ' '; ijiiil , 1' ill • i f ' 1 i || 1 1 '' !■. .,;i;i i; flil R ' 1 : ^1 1^ 1 i 1 '111 1 1' iHiiiij * y ■1 Jm 126 LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIGIITON. A new prisoner. A sudden tninsition. The prcpnriitlons di?covcre(l. by the numerous sentries by whom we were guarded, we only worked on wet and stormy nights, when the soldiers were sheltered in their boxes. On these nights, old Pireau used the saw, and the rest were stationed around the room, to give timely notice of the earliest alarm. One of our number was posted where he could see the sentinel immedi- ately next us in the yard, with a string in his hand, attached to the old man's foot, which in case of alarm was to be pul- led as a signal for him to desist ; and he not unfrequently received some pretty nervous jerks, that made him eurse roundly for the pain they occasioned him. Our scheme was now in rapid progression, when the introduction of a new companion stopped its further prosecution for a time. He was a boy, and was only to be confined for one month ; so we determined to postpone our enterprise until his depar- ture ; but he, by accident, discovered our Intention ; we then frightened him half to death, and made him take an awful oath of secrecy, and proceeded with our work. We had soon so nearly accomplished our preparatory measures, that we only required one more night to apply the finisiiing stroke and take our departure. Animated to an unusual degree, we entered upon our day's labor with unwonted cheerfulness, and, while we hammered the hard stones, bright visions of liberty and freedom floated like spirits of peace before our minds. But these visions were too bright to be realized, and there was something ominous in our exceeding cheer- fulness. How sad, how overwhelming was our disappoint- ment, when, about 11 o'clock, A. M., the turnkey entered our apartment, and ordered every one out of the room, say- ing, as we left it, " I believe some of you are adopting some measures to escape ; I am come to see whether it is so or not !" LIFE OP WILLIAM B. LIGIITOX 127 ;ovorcd. [led, we soldiers Pireau Le room, of our immedi- attaclied ) be pul- equently im Gurse leme was of a new me. He lonth; 80 lis depar- ; we then an awful We had iures, that ng stroke |al degree, ■erfulness, visions of lefore our realized, ing cheer- iisappoint- ',y entered oom, say- leasures to Tlic author is ironed. Antfinr's rf'> the 12 ■ ii I i U\ II' li> r ' \f I i tm " * 150 LPE Of WILLIAM B. tlOnXOJi'.- Morn liopos cruxhcMl. providence and mercy of Heaven. Thus did my lio[)es dawn and die, during the sliort stay of my regiment in the city. N»)twithstanding the failure of our plans of escape, and the subsequent disappointment and sadness of our hearts, we did not wholly despair. We were continually devising new schemes, which as ol'ten proved to be but air. At last? Ave resolved again to petition the governor, and humbly im- ])lorc his clemency ; but to our numerous petitions we recei- ved no answer, neither in writing nor assistance. Then, supposing we had exhausted every effort that aflbrded a prospect of alleviation, or of present liberty, we sank down into a sort of melancholy and forced resignation to our mis- erable circumstances. Wo were completely raised from this state, however, in a short time, by an unlooked for occurrence. A ship of the line arrived at Quebec in want of seamen, and one day the officers came into the prison to obtain some able-bodied men for the service. The jailer permitted them to visit us, when they inquired how many of ns were willing to volunteer to be men-of-war's men. Every prisoner eagerly replied that he was willing ; upon which they took down our names,and told us we should be sent for in a few days. This intelligence cheered our spirits, and we were well nigh intoxicated with joy ; we fondly dreamed of a safe and speedy deliverance from our irksome confinement ; and it was but a dream, for we soon learned that the ship had sailed. Why we were not sent for, we were never informed. Probably, the consent of the governor could not be obtained. By good behavior, I obtained the confidence and moved the sympathy of the jailer, and he, in some degree, mitiga- ted the rigor of my imprisonment by permitting me to act ,'f- LIFE or TVILLIAM B. LKiHTON. 131 liopcs ill the le, and lu'iirts, evising At last, bly ini- c rccei- Tlien, forded a ik down our mis- cd from )okcd for in want prison to le jailer ' many of Every iliicli tliey |>r in a few we were led of a Jfmement ; It tlie ship lere never I could not id moved ^c, mitiga- me to act Another scheme to csicnpo. V1»U to the roiiunon scwcr of tho city. as a waiter upon a gentleman conllned for debt ; this service proeurt;d me the liberty of tlic yy.rd, jtnd though I was shut up in my room at night, yet my situation was materially imi)roved. The prisoners, soon after this, contrived another plan of escape, which was at once hazardous and cunning. There was a drain connected with our room, which led into the common sewer of the city. They ])ro[>oscd to descend this drain and folloAV the sewer until it brouglit tliem unrlci- the streets of the city ; from thence, cut tliroiigli tlic arch, and ascend without the pri.son walls, -rjiis ))lan mnuifcstly re- quired great caution, for there were several other drains in the prison, from which our lights in the sewer must inevit- ably be discovered, if any person should haj>pen to pass them while Ave were o]">erating below. For the procure- ment of lights they depended u})on me, as I, having tlie liberty of tlie yard, could obtain them with greatei' j'acllity than any of the rest. Tiiis I ditl, and soon supplied them with candles sufficient for the occasion. Mr. Pireau was next sent to reconnoitre, and ascertain what difRculties were to be surmounted. With a strong rope, which we had })ro- cured, or rather constructed, he was with much dijliculty lowered down the nari*ow drain into the sewer below. The " old fox" as we called him, soon returned, and, pulling the rope, we drew him up in triumpli ; he declared that nothing could be more encouraging, as there was but one obstacle in the way, which was an iron grating of single bars, directly under the wall of the prison yard ; the cutting away of one of these Avould permit us to pass directly under the street. He jocosely observed, that of all the Avays he had travelled in his life, that was the most foul and offensive ; aiid Avell it might be, for it was the passage of all the filth of the city- 132 LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LTOnTOJT. Tho Bttein|)t. Unexpected dlfncultiox. A ludlrrniH scono. .1^1; ^Interials to cut tl»e bar were soon ol)ttiinc(l, and the old man speedily accomplished that task. Myself and another pris- oner were now deputed to descend and inspect the ground, and to report the probabilities of success. We accordingly descended, and after a short examination, returned and stated it to be our opinion that our escape might easily be effected. As it was our intention not to make the hole nntil all were ready to pop out, we agreed to descend together. One of our number declined on account of ill health, and because his teiin of imprisonment was nearly expired, lie promised, I'Owever, to remain in his bed until the turnkey brought in the wood to make our fire, and then to affect utter ignorance of our escape. Satisfied Avith this promise, one night, after the turnkey had gone his nine-o'clock rounds, an(' * was quiet in the prison, we descended, nine of ns in nun. , and proceeded up the channel to the scene of our anticipated escape. Here we experienced uuich difficulty, in conse- quence of the narrow dimensions of the channel, and be- cause of a great flow of filthy water, occasioned by a recent rain. Ci*awling upon our hands and knees, we could but just keep our heads above water, and sometimes we nan-owly escaped drowning. The prisoners were sadly disappointed upon finding such an egi*ess ; they had expected to be able to walk erect, and without danger or difficulty ; and most severely and blas- phemously did they curse us for bringing them, as they said, into such a hole. Some unfortunately drowned their lights, and were involved in darkness. This so discouraged them that they would fain have gone back ; but this miserable privilege was denied them, the passage being so narrow that they could not turn round ; go ahead, therefore, they must. LTPE or WILLIAM n. LICnTOX. 133 inc. dman r pria- round, rinciplcd companions, as it Avas now pretty evident that some of them would betray the rest, either from desire to gain favor with the jailer, or from fear. This determination was tested only a few days after. Some of the prisoners attempted to escape tiie same way that avc had su recently tried. A few minutes after the keeper had gone his rounds, one of them descended the drain to examine 1 T' 4 I' ■U>J|giiJi*V.i^9Vi *'inmi(i " 'm^^^j r 136 LIFE OP WILLIAM B. LtGHTJON. Another fruitless attempt. Resitniation and occupation. i', -.' the grating, and prepare the way for the rest. Hardly had lie arrived below, before the keepers sprang suddenly into our room, and began inquiring for old Pireau and myself, taking it for granted that we were concerned in the attempt. Happily we were in bed ; but, though we informed them of the fact, they could hardly be convinced until they were as- sured by seeing our persons. We told them we had nothing to do with their breaking out, and that we never meant to be guilty of such a crime again. The poor fellow who had descended into the channel, was soon taken out by means of a trap-door, when the turnkey beat him most shamefully with a cudgel, and drove him down to the dungeon, where he was heavily ironed, and kept for a considerable time." This circumstance had such an effect upon all the prisoners, that they abandoned all idea of libera- tion until their time should expire. As I had adopted a similar resolution, it struck me as a wise expedient to devote myself to mental improvement, as a means of passing the time agreeably, and of preparing myself for future usefulness and happiness. My means of improve- ment w«re very small. I had but a few books ; however, I sedulously devoted every leisure moment to the study of drawing, writing, and arithmetic. These studies had the happiest effect upon my mind ; they soon relieved me of that insufferable prison melancholy, of which I had heretofore been the unhajipy subject, and they ultimately paved the way for that glorious change which I subsequently experienced. Still the time spent in prison was a vacuity in my existence ; even now, it seems like a whole link struck from the chain of my past life. The wonder of my mind often is, how I escaped utter ruin, connected as I was, so long and so closely, witli such unprincipled characters. Doubtless the restraining r-.i^K'wyffr^^mfi^y^- -'^s.' ^"^ ?5wr7i^57?"''"''»«'?'!Lw™p?»«flraw»!»i^^ ition. dly had ly into myself, Lttempt. hem of t^ere as- nothing nt to be f-" .iiiiw|Li9f|iimifP- ^mr^^^n^mm LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIGHTOX. 137 Resignation, and occupation^ grace of GocI saved me, and to its great Author I would «s- th" bumhlr"' '""^ ''*"'*™'''' ''°'' P''"-*'"^ »«<•* « brand from lel, was turnkey m down 3pt for a in effect f libera- rne as a ent, as a 5 myself tnprove- svever, I itudy of bad the i of that iretofore the Avay rienced. istence ; chain of escaped }ly, wit}i straining f CHAPTER VII. One struggle more, and I am free." ii i ^ ^V We now had an addition to our numbers, of a character differing from all the rest. He was a young Englisliman, convicted for some petty crime, well educated, and possessed of a tenderness of manner that soon won for him the love and esteem of all the prisoners^ By a Itpng train of mis- fortunes he had become greatly reduced ; when, to gratify his sinful and intemperate habits, he committed the offence that })laced him in prison. What think you, young reader, occasioned his fall? It was cruel disobedience to kind and affectionate parents ! Nor was he alone in attributing his fall to this crime, among the many who were under con- finement. Several of us could date our entire list of sor- rows from the moment when we violated the obligations of children. Would that the young would beware of this ac- cursed and blasting evil — this root of a thousand woes ! O that they were wise to refrain from it, ere it lead them into every species of wretchedness and woe ! Hear, young rea- der, hear i/ovr duty from the mouth of God upon this sub- ject. He says, " Honor thy father and thy mother, that thy days may be long in the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee." This young man had not been long with us, before I formed the most intimate friendship with him. As we both loved reading, we united our studies, and read together every book wc could obtain. Among the many we bor- rowed, was Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress, an inimitable LIFE Of WILLJAM B. LIGUTON. ISO rilfiriin's Progress. Conviction for sin. m laracter iisliman, osscssed the love of mis- o gratify e offence T reader, land and )uting his uler con- ;t of sor- Igations of ,f this ac- ^voes ! O them into tonng rea- this sub- Ithcr, that [l thy God before I As we Id together we bor- I inimitable work, which neither of us had ever seen before ; this we read witli an increasing interest, until we became entirely captivated by the fascinating style of the author, and by the peculiarity of his descriptions of the Pilgrim's Avanderings. Nor was it without its moral influence on my mind. His description of the Pilgrim hastening from the City of De- struction, struggling through the Slough of Despond to the little wicket-gate, and his pursuit of the heavenly journey with so much watchfulness and effort, taught me the neces- sity of re[)entance and regeneration. I saw that I must be cleansed by the washing of the Holy Ghost, and be united by a spiritual bond to our blessed Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, and that, by his grace, I must become obedient to his will, or forfeit enternal life. When v. e read of Chris- tian losing his burden at the foot of the cross, a strong de- sire for a similar relief awoke in my heaving heart, and, ere we had reached the close of the work, I was laboring under deep and genuine conviction for sin. What a blessed work is that of Bunyan's ! Doubtless many sor'"- will have to bless God for its production to all eternity ; it is so true to nature, to grace, to experience, and withal so in- teresting in its style, that it must always be both useful and beloved. How various are the means used by that Mighty Agent of the gospel, the Holy Spirit, to produce conviction in the human heart! Sometimes it speaks in the thunder, and sometimes in the whispers of the breeze ; now it works in the lightning's flash, and anon, in the darkness of the silent midnight hour ; in one, it speaks with the hoarse roars of Sinai, in another, with the sweet sighings of Calvary ; to some, by the living minister, and to others, by the silent book, wonderfully adapting its modes to the various con- h :>■ ■'I !:- i iiii 140 LIFE OP WILLIAM B. LIOUTOK. A piouM visitor. Delay of duty. stitutions and circumstances of man. O blessed Spirit ! my heart adores theo ; my spirit yields its humble sacrifice to thy glory, and to thy eternal praise. May thy influence till my soul, and lit me for the inheritance of the saints in light. liy a peculiar dispensation of Divine Providence, \vc were visited at this era of my experience by the Eev. Mr. Archibald and another gentlcnuui, whose name I have for- gotten, an olHcer in the royal engineer department. These gentlemen, moved by the spirit of Jesus, came to visit us in prison, in hoi)es to find a disciple for their Divine Mas- ter within its wails. Theirs was a benevolence of the right stamp — a Christianity developed through a propei' medium ; they labored personalli/ with sinners, and that is the kind of labor that the Head of the Church requires. They manifested the utmost sweetness of disposition, and piety shone conspicuously in their deportment ; their mildnc^> and suavity soon inspired confidence, and we listened with respect to their instructions. Perceiving my seriousness of manner, Mr. A. used to take me aside, and, with much affection and gentlenes.-, urge me to seek a change of heart, as necessary to salva- tion. He warned me most faithfully of my danger, show- ing me that I was a sinner, at an almost infinite distance from God ; and that, if I would be at peace, I must repent of all my sins, and take the I^ord Jesus for my Savior. But, like too many sinners, though under deep conviction, I thought I could not seek religion then ; I was surrounded by v.'hat might have been truly called " the devil's own children," who would doubtless m.-ike me the butt of their filthy wit, and low, unmanly ridicule. After I was libera- ted, it seemed as if a more convenient season would ofl'er LlfE OP WILLIAM B. LIGHTON. 141 Spirit I sacrifice ifluencc ,aints in nee, Nvc lev. Mr. :uivc ibr- , These D visit us inc Ma.s- the riglit uietliuni ; the kind :s. They \nd piety miltlner-> cued with used to rentlenes?, to salva- !!•, show- dititance lust repent ly Savior, conviction, lurrounded ivil's own lit of their tas libera- rould ofier A strange preacher. An effectual sermon. itself. Thus, for a long time, I strove to quell my tender feelings, and to grieve the Holy Spirit ; yet, like the patri- arch's dove, I found no rest ; for though I could grieve the Spirit, I could not resist conviction ! it followed me in spite of every procrastinating effort. Blessed, thrice blessed be God for his long-suffering and tender mercy I "While in this interesting state of mind, I attended the prison chapel one afternoon, when we were addressed by an entire stmnger, an elderly gentleman, dressed in the garb of an old fashioned Methodist preacher ; such a dress I had frequently seen worn in England. His peculiarly solemn appearance arrested my attention, and prepared me to hear with profit. His prayer was fervent and powerful ; it took hold of God, and, like the wrestling patriarch, he seemed unwilling to let go until Jehovah had blessed him and his sinful auditory. While praying for the prisoners, he seemed to carry my case especially to the throne of grace ; under that prayer my convictions increased mightily, and my sinking, but wicked heart strongly tempted me to leave the chapel for very shame's sake. Glory to God, that temptation did not conquer me ; that mesh did not entangle my unwary feet. Christ, the sacrifice for sin, was the lofty theme he chose to speak upon in his sermon : he showed sin's exceeding sinful- ness, and its damning effects, from the fact, that, to redeem a world from death, so great a gift as the Son of God was necessary. After dwelling a sufficient time on the great doctrines of his text, he addressed lumself with deep pathos to the prisoners ; he showed us how all our past wretched- ness and suffering were occasioned by nn, and how sin world ruin us in the future ; he invited us to Christ, urging the most weighty motives to repentance and fai'h, and 13 -yt n i .■ I! iliil m 1 m i 1 i i! 1; :; if' 142 LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIOHTO??. A cunfctisioii. Good advice. pointing out the glorious and peaceful results. My soul roultl not resist the eloquence of his pleading, and it was only by violent efforts that tears were prevented from re- vealing to my comrades the workings of my heart. At the close of the mectinir, I went to this venerable messenger of the new covenant, and, taking him aside, said to him, as I burst into a flood of tears, " Sir, I am desirous to become a better man ; I wish to be pious ; I am sensible that I have hitherto lived an enemy to God ; will you give me your counsel, and pray that your labors may not be lost upon me ?" Taking me affectionately by the hand, he replied with much earnestness of manner, " Do not stifle your good impressions, but submit to them until they are followed by an evidence that you are born of God. Pray for mercy and pardon ! Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ ; confess your sins and forsake all your evil doings, and he will receive you." " Sir," said I, " I cannot prny ; I do not knoAV hoAV."' " Not pray ! " replied he, as if astonished ; " cannot you repeat the Lord's prayer?" " Yes sir," said I ; " my mother taught me that when I was but a child." " Then use that, my dear j oung friend," answered he, " and make it a model in all your addresses to the throne of grace." He then offered me some advice relative to my future course, and, with an earnest wish that my heart might soon be filled with the full fruition of divine love, left me to my reflections. My mind now labored under the deepest distress ; I saw God's holy law was against me, and my guilt pressed like in 0, LIFE OF WILLIAM B. UGHTON. 143 Tuniptiitions to delay. Serious state of mind. cc. My soul (1 it was from ro- rcncvablc .side, said I wish to an enemy that your )lied with L lit to them I are born vc in the c all your how." cannot you liat when I severed he, the throne my future might soon me to my ress ; I saw Iressed like an insupportable load upon my conscience. To increase my npproliensions, the EVil One suggested that, in yielding to religion the)i and there, I should, like Sampson of ancient story, have to make sjwrt for the Pliilistines, for my com- panions were still bitterly opposed to religion. Yielding to these wicked insinuations, I buried my feelings deep in my own bosom, revealing tliem to none but the Rev. JMi*. Archibald, who still continued his visits. To liim, however, I gave a circumstanial account of all my mental conflicts, and received in return the best possible advice ; he loaned me such books, also, as he su])posed would be useful to me in my state of mind : one of these was much blessed to my advantage ; it was called the Prodigal's Life : such was its elfect, that my convictions increased so as to deprive me of rest day and niglit. ]My time I now spent as much alone as possible, occu])ying it chiefly in praying, reading, and walking our room in serious meditation. On one occasion, having thoughtlessly joined these sons of Belial, in their walk to and fro in oiir apart- ment, they began to talk of what they Avould do when relea- sed, and they Avanted to know if I would not join them in their wicked plans ; as they talked, their feelings waxed hot- ter and hotter, until they seemed ripe for the i)erpetration ot some diabolic scheme. Suddenly I paused ; an overwhelming view of my sinfulness and danger passed before me, and I felt that I must either yield to God at once or be lost forever ; my wicked heart sought an excuse, but my horrors contin- ued and increased ; my only alternative appeared to be, to yield then or be damned forever ! Hell was all open before me, gaping to swallow me up, and my spirit shuddered lest in a few moments it should mingle its wailings with the lost ! 0, that was an awfully-solemn moment. » .% \ h t| ii.^ f i(.! m^ I > 144 LIFE OP WILLIAM B. LIGHTON". Powerful conviction. The conversion. Thii3 overpowered by the almighty power of God, I left tlic company, and rushing to my bedside, fell upon my knees, with my sins swelling like mountains before me, and ])rayed God to have mercy upon my soul. While thus en- gaged, one of the prisoners came into the bed-room : it be- ing dark, he stumbled over my feet : as he struggled to rise, he was about to speak, but discovering me to be engaged in ])rayer, he stopped short, astonished and confounded. After giving vent to the feelings of my soul in prayer, the load upon my heart was removed ; the insupportable burden was gone. My spirit felt refreshed and renewed, and I felt as if I could forever travel the heavenly road without weari- ness or pain. I felt like a new man — every thing around me was different, or, at least, it appeared so. Surely it was a new creation by the grace and power of God, even the transformation of ray so„l from darkness to light — ^from Satan to God. New feelings possessed me ; love to God and love to my fellow-prisoners filled my heart, and I could willingly do the worst of my companions good. But a few minutes before, a consciousness of the divine displeas- ure and of my nearness to hell bowed me to the dust; now, a knowledge that Jehovah smiled propitiously, and owned me for an heir of bliss, elevated my feelings to a state of holy serenity and peace. O ! blessed be God ! I felt re- deemed from sin and guilt, despair and misery, death and hell. The Lord Jesus was my advocate, and I was justi- jied and pardoned by his precious blood ; lost to every thing beside, my heart was filled with thanksgiving and praise. I retired to bed that night with'a confidence, that, whether I slept the sleep of death, or lived until the morning, I was the Lord's. Full of joy in the Holy Ghost, I awoke in the \\i T LIFE OP WILLIAM B. LIGIITON. 145 The young convert. Favorable impressions. I'erdecution. ■.■ ■, , I left )n my le, and lus en- : it be- to rise, aged in After lie load 3en was I felt as t weari- around 5urely it od, even it — from 3 to God 1 I could But a displeas- ist; now, id owned I state oi' I felt re- loath and vas justi- to every iving and t, whetlier ing, I was oke in the morning : heaven wa» my all, and earth a dream. My soul was happy, truly, inexpressibly happy, and it seemed impossible that the bright sky of my hopes should ever be darkened. Alas ! how little the young com ert knows, in the hours of his first love, of the iierce contests and fiery trials that await him. 'Tis well he does not, else would his" strength fail him, luid he would melt at the thought of fu- ture ii'ials. On the return of Mr. Archibald I related all my feelings in liis eager ear. He .iskod me several (piestions, gave me much useful instruction, and promised to continue his visits every week, to my no small consolation. ISIy conversion produced a favorable impression upon my fellow-prisoners ; for u time, we hud comparative peace ; God had stopped the mouths of the lions for his servant's sake. They Avere mostly Catholics, though they gave no practical evidence of being Christians, but were saints and sinners by turns, as convenience or interest demanded : be- fore their priests they confessed their sins, and, receiving absolution, felt as safe as if there were no day of judgment, no retribution, no God to judge. Alas ! that such a human system should be palmed upon the credulous and ignorant for the religion of the Bible. May God soon save the world from the curse of Roman Catholicism. With this steady frame my enjoyments continued for some time, when some of the prisoners commenced a sys- tem of persecution that, for a season, marred, but did not destroy, my enjoyments. My persecutors were the most hardened and vicious of this guilty crew, and their persecu- tions were of the most cunning and malicious character. Once they reported to the turnkey that I had conspired to mutiny ; that my plan was to arm m\'self with a cudgel, 4 13^ ■ ! i < ' I f J- re 1! lie LIFi: OF WILLIAM D. LIGIITOiV. A Sutanic Inventhm. Dlfinpimlnted hatred. .'ukI, as lie cumc his round at nine cA'luck, to knock him clown, take his keys and clothes, and in his dress, liberate them and myself from confinement. Strange to say, the turnkey gave a partial credence to this most egregious, though ingenious lie, and actually prepared himself for the anticipated onset. When the hour arrived, he (ramo into ihe room and inquired for me. lie found me in the bed- room quietly engaged in my studies, and entirely uncon- scious of the reason of his inquiry. Notwithstanding my peaceable occupation, he came to me, and addressing me, said, " I understand, Lighton, you are calculating to muti- ny — to knock me down, take iny keys and clothes, and es- cape with the rest of the prisoners." As he spoke, he became highly excited, and swore like a maniac, and holding up his bunch of massive keys in my face, he declared he would beat my brains out with them if I dared to attempt any such thing. This uftlooked-for, and to me mysterious, address so filled me with surprise that I was utterly unable to clearly defend myself from the charge. With much effo't , T at last made out to tell him that no such plan had entered into my heac", and that I was disposed to be quiet and harmless, and should continue so until the day of my discharge. This low cunning of the devil and his agents greatly af- flicted my soul, and I'or a time was a sore thorn in my flesh ; at last, the turnkey became convinced that the re- port of the prisoner s v*'a.5 a iic, fabricated for the purpose of injuring me ; so that they, in their turn, were con- demned, while I tilumphed in the a indication of my inno- o.cnce. Thus was Satan entrapped in his own snare, and God turned the wrath of man to confusion. Amidst these petty thougli painful persecutions, the grace S LIFE OF WILLIAM ft. LlOnxOX. 147 hiiu )erate y, the igious, or tlie c into ic bed- uncon- ng my ng me, ) muti- wd es- •e like a s in my them it* .for, and that I •oni the ItcU hin\ at I was [itinuc so •catlv af- p in my It the re- puvposc lore coii- Imy inno- Imrc, and the grace Tho pcnce-nmknr. A prisoner (ilarmcd. Thn Holy Ghnnt resisted. of the Lord Jesus sustained and enabled nic, us a good soldier, to endure hardness ; and by degrees 1 gn.-w bold in reeommending the Savior to my fellow-prisoners, and in interfering to prevent or heal their frecpicnt quarrels : for my success in my efforts to silence these brawls, they lion- ored me with the appellation of peace-maker. About this time my heart was rejoiced at witnessing the awakening and concern of soul of one of the prisoners, named John Hart, occasioned by the following incident : — His comrade, whose name wa^ Kobinson, and who with himself united to abuse and i-ob me of my food when con- fined in the dungeon, had been dismissed from jail, his time having expired. Soon after his discharge, in attempting to rob a house, he fell from the roof, and was so seriously in- jured that he died. This appalling news filled Ilart with fear and horror ; trembling with an awful idea that liis own death-hour was nigh, he begged of me to send foi Mv. Archibald, which I did immediately. This worthy minij^tor of the gospel came, and my deeply-convicted comrade, though his anguish had partially subsided, promised, if God would spare his life, that he would live better, and never do again as he had done in his previous life. Alas for this resolution ! like the morning clouds or early dew it passed speedily away. Ere a few day:* had passed, he forgot his terrors, and returned to his former sin and neglect of God: it may here be added, that after his dis- mission from prison, this rejector of the overtures of divine grace engaged in robbing a cliurcli, iind finished his blaclv <^arecr n})on the gallows. AVhat an awful lesson docs this solemn fact teach us ! How dangerous to irrieve away the Spirit of our holy God I Ivcadcr are you trifling with that Spirit ? Beware, lest i/ou trifie your ;-oul into hell ! Care- i f . M : i 1 .1 1. M\ ^ l'^ mn., 148 LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIGHTON. Dei>arture of a friend. The prison scliool fully follow its sacred ^teachings, and it will lead you to the blissful walks of paradise and bliss. Being very desirous of communicating the glorious change, which hud renovated my heart, to my parents, I wrote them a letter which Mr. A. promised to send by the earliest mail. But I never received any answer to this or any other letters, which, at different times, I had sent home. This was peculiarly painful to my feelings. Soon after this, the gentleman who had accompanied Mr. A. in his visits of mercy to our abode was called by Divine Providence to leave Quebec. His farewell visit was an interesting and profitable season : after giving us much valuable advice, and fervently commending us to God in prayer, he took us euchby the hand and bade us an atfectionate adieu : so touching was the scene that every eye was bedewed by tears — every heart was full ; and as he left us, the blessing of the rer.dy to perish, followed him. Not only did the Lord pour his grace into my soul, but lie opened a door through which I received some relief to my circumstances. The jailer perceived the change whicli had passed over me, and acquiring confidence in m) " utcgri- ty, he employed me to mark the prison bedding, clothes, &c. : this gave me a lighter employment and the occasional liberty of the yard, and very nmch ameliorated my condi- tion. About this time it was proposed to establish a scliool in the j)rison for the benefit of the more illiterate of the pris- oners : by the advice of Mr. Archibald, I was chosen to teach the English branches, and a young man of suitable talents to instruct in the French language. For our en- couragement, liberal rewards were offered us if we succeed- ed in gaining their approval. Our operations were com- o the )rious nts, I )y the his or home. panied ed by 1 visit ing us ; us to ? us au every and as ed hira. )ul, but elief to which utegri- clothes, asional f condi- hool in he pris- ; oseu to suitable our en- succeed- ;re com- LlfE OF WILLIAM B. LIGHTON. 140 A gift. A plentiful provision. Doctor Morula. merced with prayer, in presence of Mr. A. and the com- mittee. For a time our success was such as to call forth the un- qualified approbation of the committee. While engaged in it, my old friend, Mr. Weidenbecker, sent me four dollars — a present which came very opportunely, as I received nothing for teaching, and had only the still miserable prison rations for my support. Standing in great need of provisions, I sent out and pur- chased a whole sheep, some peas, &c., with Mr. W.'s dona- tions ; the man just arrived with it as Mr. A. came to visit the school, and being unwilling h< hould see it, I hasti ned to secrete it in an adjoining cell ; but my haste attracted his notice, and excited his suspicion, and, looking into the cell, he saw, to his utter astonishment, a whole sheep, ready for cooking. Returning from the cell, he asked, " William, is that sheep yours ? " With some confusion, I replied, " It is, sir." " Well, then," replied he, " you mean to live M'ell, I see." — Here was an error. I ought to have told Mr. .\. the facts in the case, and no doubt, from the benevoh nee of his heart, he would have exerted himself in our behalf ; but as it was, he never gave me any remuneration for my labor in teaching. Probably lie supposed we were ^v oil enough off without any pecuniary aid, — On the approach of spring, tlie prisoners growing weary of study, our school ceased ; but the jailor having nothing against my cliuractcr, permitted nie to enjoy the liberty of the yard. Things were in this situation, when a Freneli gcntlemanj named Moruia, by profession a doctor, was unjustly commit- ted to prison for six months. This gentleman soon conceiv- ed an attachment for me, and as he occupied a private rooni, ! ,■•-{ % f 150 LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIGHTON. Plans of escape. A disinterested friend. Ill lie succeeded in gaininp^ permission of the jailer for me to room with him — a circumstance which made me compara- tively happy. While with this worthy man, he cured me of a cancer, which for some time had filled me with alarm, and threatened me Avith early dissolution ; he also gave me some clothing, which, with the prison allowance, made me quite comfortable. The providence of God still Avrought in my favor. The boy, whom the jailer employed to take care of his liorses left him, and, his stables being within the prison walls, he put me into that station. Here I soon discovered an almost sure way of escape ; and it appeared to me, that, as my happiness and usefulness depended on my being once more a member of society, it w\as my dutt/ to attempt it. Filled with the thought, I told the doctor, who, transported with the idea, cautioned me to be careful, and he would abscond with me when the favorable hour should arrive, for the sake of making my escai)e complete. Meanwhile he commenced sending out liis books and other articles to the care of a city friend ; but as his time was nearly expired, this excited no suspicion. The motive that influenced the doctor in his determina- tion to escape with me was purely disinterested ; his own time of imprisonment was nearly ex])irctl, and by escaping he only exposed himself to an inci'cascd penalty ; it was for 1)11/ sake he did it. Speakhig upon it, he said, " When I think of your situation, the misery you have undergone, and very probably will have to undergo all your life ; and when I take into consideration your tender youtL, and the proba- bility of your future usefulness, both to yourself and the world, could you be free, — I cannot decline an act which, I deliverance from your LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIGHTON. 151 Facilities for csc!i|)e. An auspicious inoiiicnt. Groundless iitarni. vmina- n time |)ing he as lor hen I |ne, and d when proba- ind the hich, I :e from all your present and future misery, and which will restore you to liberty and happiness. "With these feelings I sacri- fice all regard to future consequences, for your happiness' sake ; and should I be taken for my escape, I shall have the satisfaction to know that you are free, and that my memory is cherished in your affections for the act." Upon the propriety of escaping I had some occasional doul)ts, but the idea of ultimate transportation was a goad to urge me onward — a justification of the attempt — and me- thinks every re. ler will justify tlic act too. As ostler or groom to the jailer, I had access to the south garret of the prison for grain, it being used as a sort of granary. This garret w^as close to our room ; and my plan was, to secure the keys of this i)lace, and, with the aid of a rope, descend from the window to tlie street, as there were no bars for its security. The doctor prepared every thing for our departure, and we only waited to obtain the keys. One evening, being in want of grain, I went to the kitchen as usual for the keys ; there was no person there but a little girl about twelve years of age, and I took them down and passed out unobserved ; running up to the garret, I got my grain, and WMth the doctor made all necessary observations. We then left the inner . or unlocked, but the outer one we locked as usual, to avoid suspicion. This done, the doctor secured the kevs in our room, while I went down and atten- ded to my horses, and returned to my apartment without exciting the least -nspicion. How did my heart flutter at the prospect before me I How anxious did I feel for the success of the enterprise before me ! How impatient for the hour of attempt ! Every thing remained tranquil and undiscovered through the evening; at nine o'clock the turnkey came his niglitly 4- ■ -I ■ 152 LII?E OF WILLIAM B. LIGHTOH". A nipht's excitemnnt. The crisis. The escape. round ; he entered our chamber, looked about, wished us "good night," and retired. "We now fancied ourselves secure, and our feelings were highly animated ; but, .about ten o'clock, we were greatly alfirmed by the turnkey, whom we heard unlocking the doors which shut across the passage leading to our room. Terrified, and fearful lest we were discovered, we threw our half-prepared bundles under the bed, and then sat dcvn, apjuirently deeply engaged in study, to wait the event ; but it was only a new prisoner, who was placed in a neighboring room by the turnkey ; after perfor- ming this duty, he just peeped in upon us, and wished us a second " good night," evidently without the least suspicion of our design — a narrow escape truly. Feeling no disposition to sleep, we spent the night watch- ing for the moment which was to free us from the gloom of the prison. Every thing remained perfectly silent, save the city watchmen, who occasionally cried, ^^ AlVs well" — a sentiment that truly accorded Avith our own feelings. At four o'clock, just before the dawn of a new day, the watch- men left their variou^s posts, and retired ; then was our fa- vorable moment, while darkness still overspread the face of nature, and men were still locked in the arms of slumber. Taking our bundles, we carefully unlocked the door of the garret, which we effected with little noise ; next, we secured the rope to a brace, and dropped it over the eaves of the building ; these, being covered with tin, made considerable noise, and we paused a moirent, fearitig w" I^^w^^^ an»tm> icape. I I shed us irselvcs t, about r, whom passage we were nder the in study, who was r perfor- ;hed us a suspicion ht watch- gloom of , save the ings. At le watch- as our fa- le face of slumber. )or of th(^ re secured ^'63 of the nsidcrablc armed the Happily rospect of •ed, that I urged me, atteudiii!;" ■ > $. \ I I I x ^ 'zr. r.1 P k i 'a\ % At I .'lis I'll m if;- 11 'I?, :!!i LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIGHTON. 153 Farewell to ray prison. to his wislies, I seized the rope, and was speedily in the street ])elow, where I i*etired to a short distance to await my companion. He was somewhat longer in descending, having cncumhei'ed himself with my bundle ; thus burdened, he had but one hand at liberty to descend with on the rope ; he had contrived to place it between his feet at starting, but, on tun ing the eaves, his feet slipped, and he slid down the whole four stories with one hand only. The suddenness of liis descent fired the rope before he half reached the bottom, so that he nearly lost liis hold, and narrowly escaped a deadly fall. His hand was useless for some time after. Thus did we providentially escape a prison, in which I had been confined two years and two months. Joyfully I bade it a long farewell. " Dark prison dome, farewell. How slow the hours Have told their leaden march within thy walls ! Toil claimed the day, and stem remorse the night ; And every season with a frowning face Approached, and went unreconciled away. Ah! who, with virtue's pure, unblenching soul, Can tell how tardily old Time doth move, When guilt and punishment have clogged his wings ! The winter of the soul, the frozen brow Of unpolluted friends, the harrowing pangs Of the last prayer, learned at the mother's knee, — The uptorn hope, the violated vow. The poignant memory of unuttered things, — Do dwell, dark dome, with him who dwells with thee. And yet, thou place of woe, I would not speak Too harshly of thee, since in thy sad cell Repentance found me, and did t,£eep with tears My lonely pillow, till the heart grew soft, And spread itself in brokenness before u m ill. I If w ii i 'J 354 LIFE OP WILLIAM B. LiairTOJT. Poetry. The eye of nicrey. ****** ■H. » -It * * * But when I view Onee iiioio my liome, when inild, forgiving eyes Shall bc.'im npoti nie.Jind (he long-lost \iiighl Of freedom nerve my nnn. uiriy the Plrong lines Of ihat hard lc?ieon sin hnlh hinuht my soul (rlenm like a fhuiiing bencon, (I'od of heaven '. Who, not for our infirmities or crime?, Dost liM'n thy face a\v;iy, gird thou my sonl^ And fortify its purpose, i«o to run lis future pilgrini-raee, an not t() los(> The sinner's ransom at the bar of doom-'' CPIAPTER VIU. art thou then Desolate of friends?" As the bent bough, relieved of the obnoxious weiglit that made it droop to earth, springs back to its original po- sition, and yields gracefully to the passing breeze, so my nnnd, freed from the shadows of the prison walls, and from the weight of a tedious confinement, rejoiced in its own wonderful elasticity ; it filled almost to bursting with tu- multuous joys ; it felt emotions indescribable by language- emotions only to be conceived by those who have experi- enced them ; it was a storm of bliss- After my companion joined me, we hastily passed out of the city, and without alarm or discovery we reached the suburbs. Here we crossed the river on the ice, which, though it was the 25th of April, (1825,) was still passed by teams. While on the ice, the doctor fell upon his knees, and offered his thanks to Divine Providence for our de- liverance. Though I felt equally grateful, I was too anxious to consummate our escape to follow his example, but kept running on, praising God by the way. Such was the mingling of fear and animation, that I scarcely knew what I did : sometimes I hurried the doctor, who, being somewhat advanced in years, could not keep pace with my buoyant footsteps ; then I ran on before him, and beckoned him to follow ; and again I jumped, laughed, talked, and sung, like one who has taken leave of his rea- son ; frantic with joy, my mind could not retain its balance. ii>: 11 I 1,^ 'n •^mfmum loG LIFE OP WILLIAM B. LIGIITOIT. The journey. Pniceetlsi towards the back country. Ti.iveUaiiMcrvitnt to thedoctor. Wc determined to travel down the St. Lawrence, among tlic French population, partly because the circulation of news was very limited and slow in that direction, ap.d part- ly because our pursuers would not probably suspect us of going by that route, but would naturally ccmcludo that we liad gone towards the United States. By sunrise, we reach- ed a [)iccc of woods, from which Ave had a view of the city and prison. There wc paused to look back upon the gloomy walls, which, a short time before, deprived us of liberty, and to imagine the surprise and astonishment of tliG keepers, when they shoukl discover our absence. "We mdulgcd in these imaginations with much merriment, and with frequent bursts of loud and liearty laughter. How pleasant wnij that Iiour ! — it v is the hour of prime ; the bright sun was riding uf the eastern cloud-paths, the song- sters of the gi'ovc were just beginning to utter their mellow rotes, and every thing seemed to us to be rejoicing in our deliverance. That moment was sweet ; it reminded me of those morning hours spent in the groves of England, and begat in my mind strong, burning wishes for a return to the hearth of my parents, where I might once more briiathe the free air of my country's salubrious clime. At first, we determined to spend the day in the woods ; but the keenness of the morning air compelled us to keep travelling for the sake of warmth ; so we pursued our way across the fields into the back country. To prevent sus- picion, the doctor proposed to travel as a physician, and I was to attend him in the capacity of a servant. A\ noon, we dineil with a French family, which was the first social meal I iiad eaten, except in the barracks and in i>rison, since my departure from England. Towards night we came to a retired spot, where wC both united in humble I doctor. Ht. Aim's. St. .\nn's church. Interi(»r of the church. mong on of part- us of lat we reacli- le city n the ! us of icnt of . AVe lit, and How e; the e song- mellow in our me of nd, and uni to breathe woods ; o keep ur way ,nt sus- , and I noon, social prison, ght we humblo prayer, and in licarty ])raisc for our deliverance, and Jir- dently prayctUlun. the mystic power of St. Ann. A.s I entered, my blood eljillcd, and a shudder of awe crept over my frame. The whole scene was new and overpowering, as I had never seen the splendor of a Catholic church I)efore. On our right was a tiguix) of our blessed lledeemcr, nearly a.s large as life, hanging in a relaxed posture upon the cross, and besmoaretl with blood. Yielding to my crowding as- sociations of devotional thoughts, I fell upon my knees and prayed, not to the imago, but to my Savior — the world'.-* ^lediator, who died upon Calvary's bloody summit for my bins. There is one superstitious observance which is very com- mon in this part of Canada : it may be called their cross homage. At short distances, crosses are erected by the road-side, to which the devotee does reverence by pulling otf ids hat, crossing himself, and saying a short j rayer, and sometimes even kneeling at their base. On these idolatrou.s conveniences are frequently suspended various articles, said to have been used at the crucifixion of the blessed Savior, placed along in order on the cross-piece or horizontal beam of the cross. They also pretend to have the cock that crowed when Peter denied bis Master ! Astounding su- perstition ! Profound ignorance ! IIow different is the simple worship dictated by the gospel ! IIow opposite is Popery to the gospel I IIow ruinous its effects upon the interests of man ! Reader, look at the fruits of Koman Catholicism. See how it darkens the page of revelation by its mi.sts of false interpretations and dead languages. And how has it spread ignorance over the face of society ! Look at its history, full of tyranny and blood. True, the power of the inquisition is nearly lost ; but the spirit of that church i^ unaltered, and its practice would correspond with its pre- ■ LlFH 0^ >TtLLIAM B. LIOIITON. 150 blooil The never II our '\y a."* cross, ng HA- es and vorld'rt or my y com- L' cross by the pulling cr, an«l (latrous St saul Savior, il beam 3k that ing su- i3 the osite is )on the Koman ition by And Look power , church its prc- The dr ^tor and I rvMolve to pnrt. Tim iiiilhnr lets hlmnfllf. DulneM of ultuatlon. viou.s doings, did it not lack the power. May wc feel thankful for the pure, unmixed, simple gospel. The doctor's profession afforded us ample means of sup- port, as he seldom visited a family without having some ail to relieve for some of its inmates. Unwilling to remain dependant upon his charity, I determined to leave him, and find some honest employment. At first he dissuaded me, but finding my resolves to be firm and decided, he turned his attention towards the procurement of a situation ; to avoid detection, he thought it expedient for me to assumo another name, which 1 did calling myself Thomas Ellen- court. Arriving at a large farm in the parish of St. Joachim, about thirty miles below Quebec, my companion incjuired if they wished to hire. After some conversation, and an abundance of recommendation from the doctor, I agreed to work for the owner for fifteen shillings per month. This was low wages, but it was rather out of season to hire then^ and the man said he hired me more out of charity than from need of my services. The highest wages paid in that vicinity was only four dollars per month. The bargain being made, I accompanied the doctor a short distance, when, after promising to see me in two months if practica- ble, he bade me .in affectionate farewell. My first task was to chop wood ; but at this I was very awkward, and could accomplish but very little, as it was my first attempt at such work. Upon this, and in considera- tion of my weak and fragile appearance, they soon gave me lighter and easier work. My situation, however, soon became irksome, as I found none with whom I could con- verse in my own tongue, except an old Englishman, who, in early life had been a soldier, but who, from thirty years 160 LIFE OP WILLIAM B. LIGHTON. Character of the people. Antagonism of intelligence and Po{»ery. residence among the French, had almost lost the use of his native language. He was my only companion ; and life without society soon became intolerably dull. The family were rigid Catholics, and required of all their domestics the strictest conformity to the outward formula of their religion. The first time I entered their church, being ignorant of almost all their ceremonies, I did as is done in all Protestant churches ; seeing myself the object of the laughter of the people, I looked around to di- vine the cause, when I saw that each person, as he entered, dipped his finger in a basin of water, and crossed liimseH with it, and then, in a mumbling manner repeated an un- known prayer : afterwards, though it was somewhat galling to my feelings, and was evidently wrong, I followed their example, and ever after passed currently among them as a good Catholic. Much might be said of the character and morals of the people among whom I resided. They were extremely ig- norant, knowing but little of the Deity, or of themselues ; they went to their worship like saints, and acted like devils on their return. They frequently held a vendue at the church doors on the Sabbath, the priest himself being some- times a bidder ! Sporting, fiddling, and dancing, were -their umuseme'us after the solemnities of the holy day. I dis- covered no common schools among them, nor anything that indicated even a desire to gain or communicate intelligence, and but a very few of them could either read or write. But, inquires the reader how came they into this deplorable condition? The answer it; clear : It is consistent with the very genius of Popery to keep the mass of its subjects as ignorant as possible ; and why ? Because, like despotism, it can only exist where ignoraiice reigns ; and therefore the LIFE OP WILLIAM B. LIGHTON. 161 Fears of discovery. A visitor from QiidK-c. wily ecclesiastics labor to prevent the growth of knowledge- Should intelligence universally spread among the Catho- lics, it would be to Popery as a fearful anathema — an ex- ecuted curse. How carefully do they hide the Bible from the open gaze of their people, where the penetrating eye of Protestantism does not watch them, and expose them to the public ! In its stead tliey demand implicit belief in the say- ings of unholy priests, whom, with the pope, the lower classes of Catholics believe to be infallible. How easy to lead such a people astray ! to bind chains of steel upon their limbs ! The unsanctified conduct of this people, together with my own indecision, broug' t me into a backslidden state, and I soon lost my confid ';nce in my Savior ; communion with God was at an end. O sad relapse, in so short a time ! "Well may we exclaim, Alas, poor human nature ! Having learned that the farm where I labored belonged to the seminary of priests at Quebec, I became alarmed for my safety ; especially when I learned that they frequently visited the farm, and as I knew that some of them had seen me in prison. Other causes also combined to excite my fears. My clothing bore the word Jail, or rather had borne it, in large letters of white paint : these I had care- fully scraped off with a knife, and it would have taken strict and close scruitiny to discover them. To remove this dangerous clew to my real character, as soon as my wages were sufficient, I purchased some very common garments, and, retiring into the woods, buried my prison clothing deep in the ground, beneath the roots of a large tree Another little incident gave me extreme uneasiness. My employer had a son who resided at Quebec, but Avho occa- sionally visited the family. As he could speak English vi'i i H ?a.r. 162 LIFE OP WILLIAM B. LIGHTON. A fellow-prisoner. The prison baker. very fluently, they used to order me into their .'"oom to talk with him for their amusement. Once he returned almost immediately after a visit, and my fears ever alive, construed his return into a discovery of my relation to the govern- ment. These fears were wrought to the Mghest pitch, when the gentleman called me and said I must go in, for his son had brought home some newspapers, and I must read them. Suspecting foul play, I hesitated whether to obey or run away ; but fearing to excite suspicion, I obeyed his wish, determined, if detected, to struggle mightily for my escape. But there was no cause for alarm ; they had not the remotest suspicion of my history, and the papers con- tained no advertisements concerning my escape from prison. Shortly after this little occurrence, I Avent to church as usual on the Sabbath, where, to my utter astonishment, I saw a gentleman Avho had been confined for debt in Quebec jail, and who, of course, knew me perfectly well. Without betraying my feelings, I hastened home in a very agitated and painful state of mind. To stay there any longer was dangerous, and to leave was equally so, as I was profoundly ignorant of the geograj^hy of the surrounding country, and had no way of crossing the St. Lawrence without exposing my life. What to do I scarcely knew, but, on the whole, determined to await the retiirn of the doctor, resolving to keep myself as retired as possible. The next Sabbath I declined attending church ; but the family began to abuse me with high indignation and hard words, calling me a doa^ a heathen, &c. To escape this fire, I accompanied them, though with a palpitating heart. When arrived there, I was more than ever confounded, by seeing the baker wIj used to supply the prison with bread, and who had frequently seen me. As before, I retired with LIFE OF AVILLIAM C. LIGIITON". 163 Resolves to leavo. Now Ciiuses of tear. An !i<,'roo!ilil(3 surprixp. •ing to seeing great trepidation, tor lie was looking towards me as I enter- ed ; whether he recognized nie, or not, I cannot tell ; bnt it is pretty certain, it' I iiad reniaine 1, that he would have don(> so, and the froAvn ing walls ot" {Quebec jail woukl again haA'O enclosed my weary frame. Tiiese repeated alarms determined me to run ofll' into some <)th(ir part of the country, and I resolved to do so, that same evening; hut while sittin;:f in the house, meditatiii'j; u})on my plan, two hired men helojiglng to the family came in, talking together in French, and in a low, cojilidential tone. To my susi)ici(jus mind, it see'med as it" they were" talking about the absconding of two men from prison, whom they suspected to be the doctor and myself. Anxious to understand their conversation, I crept close to them, when they ceased talking. Leaving them, I lay down on my bed, not ijitending to undress, but to get up, and escape from their hands in the ni;.dit; but soon after, thev asked me if I had gone to bed. I told them, '" No." " Then," said they, "you had better do it." Fearing from this remark that they designed to watch me, it seemed useless to attempt to get av»'ay that night ; so I submitted to my supposed fate, and went to bed to sj)end a very unha})py night ; but hearing no more of tlu'ir talk, I concluded that my fears were the mere creations of my own mind, and felt more at ease, until my em])loyer asked me, if I were ever a soldier, to which I returned a disdainful negative. Those circumstances confirmed me in my conviction of the necessity of leaving the place; and hnpj)ily I soon found an opportunity. While busily engaged in cliopi»iug wood, one of tli(i hired men came running towards me in great haste, and said in French, i"i, li m •si " r pill. wu.p||i,gi|i I M<'P"'>,Wi«WI' i I ii ii I h I I r t " y 'i I' 164 L1F15 Of WILLIJLM B. LIGIITON. The doctor relates his adventures. " Thomas, you must come home ; there is a gentleman wants to see you." " "Who is it wants to see me ? " I responded, while an al- ternate flush of heat and cold passed over my frame. " A gentleman," said he ; " who it is I can't tell." Upon this, my face became pale as death with agitation, which the man perceiving, said, « It is the doctor." Not understanding him, and thinking he said the tiirnhey, my terror increased, and the dictate of my heart was to run, when the man again said, " It is the doctor who came here with you." This was news indeed ; it scattered all my fears in a mo- ment, lighted up my countenance with joy, and lifted an intolerable weight from my soul. With haste and delight I hurried to the river-side, where he still remained in the boat, ready to escape if my character had been detected. Our joy was mutual ; mine was almost as ecstatic as on the night of my escape ; the gratification of both was extreme, and after the usual inquiries respecting health, N. ^ ^ \ 5i- V Ni ^ S. V S V . K ^ s -V N s^ nH -^ ^ •>^ ^ > \ > .-v N^ ^ ,■>: N \ \ >v ■^ V. v >; ■,^ "K ^ ,i N i !i i i wii mn LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIGIITON. 105 Arrival al Orleans. The author and doctor separate. unceremonious deiRirturc excited a mighty uproar in tlie city on the day of our csca[)C, and thousands of citizens went to look at the window from whence we descended. The next morning I left my employer, and we proceeded to the ishmd of Orleans, where the doctor was called to attend a sick lady, and where he intended to remain for some time ; he wished me also to stay with him. This I positively refused to do, as it was my intention to reach the United States as soon as j)ossible. Finding he could not prevail upon me to stay, the next morning he engaged two men to carry me to St. Thomas, a distance of eight miles. On my departure, the faithful doctor, with his eyes filled with tears, gave me tlie true kiss of friendship, and wished LiC peace and prosperity ; in return I thanked him for his constant kindness, and wished him corresponding blessings. The scene was interesting : it was friendship's parting — ^the separation of hearts which grew together in adversity. As our eyes poured forth their briny streams, our hands re- mained clasped, as if unwilling to let each other go. At last he commended me to the care of Heaven, and we parted — perhaps forever. Never will that hour be blotted out from the pages of my memory; it was the last link of a precious friendship — a fricndtihip genuine, and seldom paralleled. My mind loves to dwell upon him as the instrument of Divine Proviilencc in ejecting my deliverance from inlkmv, destitution, and suifering. Xlie singular cirvumstance that first united us, the success we met with on the niglit of our escape, and this last interposition, all conspire to convince inr that he \va« the instrument of God's mercy in my behalf. J>ong as I live, his name and fri<'n will live in my remenibi iince, and the siiicerest gratitude will accompany the recollection. wmm 16G LIFE OF WILLIAM D. LIGIITON. The journey. Groiindlass nlarm. Passes Quebec. I mi '/::ii' About noon I landed at St. Tlioma», and travelled on to- wards Quebec, though on the opposite side of the river. Fear- ful of discovery, being only eighteen miles from the city, I walked but slowly, and after a few hours secreted myself in the woods, intending to pass Quebec in the night. Towards night I called at a house, and procuring refreslnnent, pro- ceeded on my way. It was now dark ; not a noise disturbed the air, but all was hushed in siler.j and tranquility. AVhile proceeding on my journey, I suddenly approached a female form bowed before one of the numerous crosses erected on the way-side ; this sight, to my timid feelings, was an omen of gladness and peace. / ' Coming to a low swamp, I was greafly alarmed by per- ceiving the air to be filled with almost innumerable sparks : as I proceeded they increased, until it seemed to me that the woods were full of fire, occasioned, as I at first imagin- ed, by the dark agency of the devil. As the sparks flitted close to my person, I at length mustered sufficient courage to try to catch one with my hand. This effort, after repeated trials, succeeded ; and, upon examination, I found it to be a species of bug, which, fearing it were poisonous, I threw away. As the reader is aware, this was nothing but the common fire-fly, or lightning-bug, which, though perfectly harmless, and to native Americans familiar, was to me a perfect stranger, and very alarming. At ten o'clock I wae opposite the city of my imprison- ment, Quebec, where every thing was calm and silent, save the waters of the river, which smacked playfully against the sides of the vessels tiiat lay at anchor in the noble St. Lawrence. Soon it lay far behind me, and I continued my journey unmolested, save by the numerous and savage dogs, who frequently assailed me, to my no small disquietude and if I ebec. I on to- Fear- city, I yselt' in 'owardd nt, pro- aturbed While I female ;cted on m omen by per- sparks : me that imagin- is flitted courage epeated to be a I threw but the 3crfectly to me a iiprison- nt, save against oble St. lued my ijio dogs, udc and A pleasant renconter. A di«n(!recal>)c renroiinter. discomfort. The next morning several miles stretched their distance between me and the city ; but still fearing appre- hension, I i)rosecuted my journey the whole of the next day. At the end of two days' tedious walking, a gentleman, who spoke English, told me that by a new road the way to the United States was much ^liDrtcned. Following his di- rections, I arrived about noon at a log-house, where T stopped for refreshment and rest. This hut — for it deserved no higher name — was owned by an Kngli^ma^n from Wakefield, near Leeds, in Yorkshire. We met as countrymen in a strange laud ; and, being both from the same part of the wave-washed isle, we entered into a very animated conversa- tion about the places we had seen, our homes, and all the et ceteras which generally engage the attention of wanderers in a distant clime- While thus pleasantly engaged, we were interrupted by Pi man, who, after asking me some questions, charged me with being a sailor, and with having run away from my ship. In reply to my denial, he cursed and swore like an infidel, probably supposing he might terrify me into a confession, and then gain a few dollars by securing my apprehension. Finding this trick failed him, he left me to i)ursue my jour- ney, which J. speedily recommenced after this rencounter. Passing through a piece of woods thirteen miles in length, I put up at a log-cabin for the night. After partaking of a little coarse food, I lay down upon the hard floor and sought repose ; this, however, was out of the question, such was the abundance of mosquitoes and black flies that kept up their constant attacks : stern necessity drove me to the work of self-defence that night, and robbed me of the refreshment of sleep. My road wa:' now exceedingly difficult ; it appeared to m 1C8 LTFK OF ^VILLIAM R. LIOIITON, r.i'Cdmns a hired niiin. A nurniw cscupo. Tho hi)rnrt'« nr-{. luivo been once cnt out, and n^^ain overp^rovvn with iinder- l)i'iisli, and was in ni.'tny jdaees iin[)eded by nnincroiis Avind- f'alls. At the close of a halt-day's travel the road tcnnina- tt'd, and I was bewildered ; after awhile, however, the track of an ox was discernible, which conducted me to a clearin,i»; ; in((uirin;if at the honse, they informed me that I was on the banks of the St. Francis Kiver. Thus ended a journey of twenty-six miles througli the -woods. Seven shillini^s and sixpence > comprised my whole ex- cbequer when the doctor and myself parted ; this was now exhausted, and it appeared essential to replenish it as early ns practicable ; and as it was many miles to Quebec, and in « swnewhat retired part of the country, it appeared to me that it was politic to seek employment. With this view, I let myself to a man named Abercrombie, in K , twelve miles below Shipton. Here, venturing somewhat rashly into the St. Francis, I narrowly escaped drowning — an accident which produced a temporaiy seriousness, and, by calling up mj former experi- ence, led me to pray a few times ; but my impressions passed like oil over marble,leaving no permanent impression. The following anecdote may be amusing to the reader. "Walking one day through the woods, on an errand for my employer, musing on various topics, I espied something in the bushes that looked very curious ; supposing it to be a knot on one of the young trees, and anxious to secure it for a w^alking-stick, I placed my hand upon it to see whether it ■was of a convenient size, and to ascertain its solidity ; in doing this, the ball broke beneath the pressure of my hand, and a host of angry hornets stung me in the forehead, in revenge for my assault upon their nest. This little incident led. me to indulsre in manv useful 1' tWR OV' WILLIAM ft. LIGttTOX. T)0 undor- s M'iiiy tlie vi[)er.s it eonceals. The worhl is a hornet's nest, and its stiii^ will ruin the immortal soul, if it h(,' not healed hy the i)reeions halm of (lilead. Ahont the 20th of October I lei't my employer, and pro- eeeded towards the United States; bnt, reflectinij on my need of more elothini^, at the end of a day's travel I a;iain let mypelf. There I remained .about six weeks, when I again set out for the States, resolving not to stop shoi-t of reaching that soil of freedom. In two days I crossed the boundary line that divides the Canadas from the United States of America • and so rejoiced did 1 feel for the consciousness that my feet pressed the sods of Columbia, that I would fain have kissed the soil on which I stood. Now, said my hope- ful imagination, liberty and happiness await me under the protection of the eagle's wing — a feeling none can know who have not felt the pressure of the paw of the lion. The desire which had been lighted up in my young bosom in the earlier periods of my life, had never been extinguished by the floods and trials through which I had passed, but it had brightened, and burned vigorously up to the moment that gave birth to my republican liberty. Unto God, who guided me by his omnipotent hand, be endless praises ! X5* V useful IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) .^ ^.*i< 1.0 1.1 Ui|2jU |25 ^ I2ii ■ 22 u 114 lU lU ■iS lAO IL25 i 1.4 U4 Photographic Sciences Corporation 4 \\ 23 WIST MAIN STRUT WiBSTIR.N.Y. 14SM (716)872-4303 4^ '4" X w^ ■•"W^WPW . ', , ■ * ^ CHAPTER IX. •t"' '■* I " Thy Ijearth, thy home, thy vintage lanu, The voices of thy kindred band, O I midst them all, when blest thou art, Deal gently with the Btranger's heart." ■ .' . ;: .1. ♦ . ■ . Hemans. V .t^A "f. i To the reader who has patiently toiled with me through the numdmus changes and trials of my past life, I shall offer no apology for conducting him through another chap- ter, by giving him a brief account of the providences which have befallen me up to the present time. * > - '^v tj x Having resumed my original and proper name, I deter- mined, as I trod the conlinea of the republic, to begin my life anew, and to regulate my conduct by the strictest prin- ciples o^ virtue and integrity. To facilitate my design, I resolved to learn a trade, as my a^,e was only twenty yearb. For this purpose it appeared proper to direct my steps to- wards the Atlantic cities, as affording the greatest facilities for the accomplishment of my purpose ; but shortly after, arriving at Waterford in Vermont, a gentleman told me that a fellow-countryman resided about two miles from the village, named Furby, a cabinet-maker. Accordingly I called upon him in the morning, and partook of his early meal. At first he felt disposed to engage me as his ap- prentice ; bu; being ignorant of my character, he declined. He advised me to call upon another Englishman, who lived in the village, named Bellamy, a Methodist preacher by profession. * • Calling upoa Mr. Bellamy, and stating to him my de- LIFE OP "WILLIAM B. LIGHTON. 171 11. li! The author becomes nn apprentice. ly de- sire, he gave me a very cordial reception ; and a warm at- tachment, such as countrymen should ever feci, was soon mutually conceived. He told me of an opportunity to ac- quire the saddler's business, as one Mr. Cobb wanted an apprentice to that trade. The next day I waited on Mr. Cobb, and he agreed to take me a month on trial. At the expiration of that term, if both parties were satisfied, he was to take me as his apprentice. The month expired, and we formed an agreement, by which he was to teach me his business, on condition of my devoting three years of my life to his service. ' While in this place, my mind was powerfully o»-'>used to a consideration of my spiritual danger — to a sense of guilt for having wandered from the good and the right way. So strong and deep were the monitions of the Holy Spirit, that rest forsook my heart, and per,ce and sleep fled from my pillow, and eft me a sinner, wretched and forlorn. By promising to be pious at some distant day, my heart, my wicked heart labored to evade the force of these convict- ions, despite of my fears and alarms lest, after all, I should everlastingly perish. Thi^s many weeks witnessed my in- decision, until, in the month of September, when, at a camp- meeting held at Concord, Vermont, about four miles from Waterford, my mind was led by Divine Goodness to decide to seek religion at once, as the great essential of my life. I thought I would obtain this precious blessing before the close of the meeting, if it could be obtained by effort. • ' On the second day of the meeting, I attended in company with Thomas Bellamy, a son of Mr. B., who has since be- come an able minister of the New Testament. He was al- so a backslider, and such was his indisposition to serious things, that we soon parted company after our arrival at ^P^^I^WPPBPP ^pp ipai 172 LIFE OP WILLIAM B. LIOHTON. L^crioii'i i(!<^rMi|;s. The ciirnp inceliiiR. !* I I the pliiv-o of prayer. The solemn appeals of the preach- ers pi«'r(M*(l my heart and inereas(;d the fronhle of my mind to such a (h'lxree, ms made me feel forsaken of God and man. I rctin d into the woods to pray, but was followed by an overpowering temptation, which whispered, " Your sins are too great to be forgiven ; and if you dai-e to pray, the Almighty will crush you in a moment !" IJut the re- membrance of the precious pmmises contained in the Bible scattered tlie temptation, and encouraged my mind, as it heard the Savior, say in his word, "^ Ask, and it shall be given you ; seek, and you shall find ; knock, and it shall be opened unto you." Kneeling beside a log, I prayed, but without experiencing any special relief or consolation. At a class-meeting held that evening in the Lancaster tent, an invitaion was given to those who were anxious for their souls' salvation, to manifest it by going forward for prayers. At first, none arose, although the tent was crowd- ed with persons yet in their sins : at last, rising from my feet, I told the peo{)le that / was determined to get religion if it were to be obtained ; many others then came forward, and w?, all joined in solemn prayer to God the Father of Spirits ; many found peace, and went away rejoicing. My mind though not wholly relieved, was comforted, and I left the tent deei)ly convinced of the value of religion, and the necessity of speedily obtaining it. - • ' • ' " ''- ' On my way home, I reflected on my newly-formed re- solves, and felt more strongly confirmed in my determina- tion to perform them forthwith. From that night I began to practise the duties of Christianity, and to cultivate a further acquaintance with the word of God. Not having much leisure to devote to study, I used to spend some time every night after nine o'clock reading the Bible on my LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIGIITON. 173 The backslider ro:»torc(l. Unites with the niclhfjdlsts. knees — an employment whicli proved to be very instructive and profitable. , ^^ * * ^ , • '"' To assist me in improving my mind, my friend Mr. B. permitted me to lodge at his house, and have access to his library — a privilege I indulged until midnight: As my ex- perience increased, my unbelief gave way, and I obt'iined a clear and undoubted evidence, that God, for Christ's sake, had blotted out my sins, and adopted me into his family. O, bless the Lord for his pardoning mercy — for his renew- ing gmce. Truly my soul was a brand plucked out of the fire. O, glory to God ! Hallelujah to the lamb ! Being desirous of attaching myself to the visible church of my Master, and conceiving the doctrines and usages of the Methodists to be strictly in accordance with the spirit and doctrines of the gcf'pel, I was received into the class at "Waterford, on the usual probation of six months, by the Rev. Chauncy Richardson. " •. ' ' ''^ Continuing to study the way of Salvation, and to medi- tate on the state of a perishing world, my heart burned with a desire to warn poor sinners to flee from the ^vrath to come ; and by punctually attending every means of grace, and by praying and exhorting to the best of my ability, my poor heart was greatly blessed and watered by the Great Shepherd of the sheep, the Bishop of souls. V ' >' On one occasion Providence called me to visit an aged gentleman and lady, who were both on the borders of the grave. My labors with them were greatly blessed, both to their souls and my own ; they were both awakened, and led back to him from whom thoy had wandered. This, and other circumstances, moved me to ask if it were not my duty to improve my gift in public ; and my mind was soon impressed with a strong conviction that it was my duty to 174 LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIOHTON. Removes to Bradrurd. The author is desirous to prench. 'y^ preach the everlasting gospel. My weakness and ignorance made me shrink from the task ; but I nevertheless deter- mined to seek out the will of Grod, by watching the open- ings of Providence, and also to follow that will, whatever it might be. The following February Mr. Cobb and myself parted by mutual agreement, and I left Waterford to seek further employment At Bradford, Vt., I found business in the shop of a Mr. Corliss. By presenting my certificate the class received me into its bosom, the first Sabbath after my arrival. Here I enjoyed many blessed privileges amoiig my Christian brethren, especially in the family of my em- ployer, the heads of which were sincere and devoted follow- ers of the Savior. Among my other advantages was the use of the town library, which was kept at my employer's house, he being librarian. During my stay in this place, my mind was again power- fully exercised upon the subject of preaching, and the more I resisted the impression, the stronger it became. After much fervent prayer, I disclosed my feelings to those who knew me best, and they thought it to be my duty to go forward. Still I was unwilling, my talents and information were so limited ; when it was suggested that many able ministers of the gospel, whose talents and services now do honor to the church and themselves, began young and fee- ble as myself, but who, by pursuing a course of untiring study, and by the aid of divine giace, had risen to celebrity and usefulness. Encouraged by such considerations, I di- vulged my feelings and views to the Rev. P. C. Richmond, the preacher in charge, who advised me to go forward and improve in exhortation and prayer. He then furnished me with his written permission to exercise my gift as an exhorter. n"i LIFE OP WILLIAM B. LIOIITON. 175 The first sermon. ReinovHl to Lisbon. Bludies. more After who to go mation y able low do id fee- ntiring ebrity I di- imond, )rward nished as an Having now no excuse for further refraining from duty, an appointment for a meeting was made for me in the vil- lage for a week-day evening lecture. When the day ar- rived, the clergyman of a neighboring church called at my shop, and after transacting his business with my employer, he turned to me and questioned me rather sarcastically about my preaching that evening. He told me I had bet- ter attend some theological institution before I attempted to preach, together with many other things to discourage and deter me from going forward in my duty. Though some- what staggered by his attack at first, I determined, on re- flection, to make the attempt, believing the grace of God in a warm heart to be a greater assistance than all the learn- ing of books and colleges, which, however, I believe to be greatly advantageous to a gospel minister. That evening I entered the sacred desk with much tre- pidation, and spoke to a large and attentive congregation, from Mark x. 17 : " Good master, what shall I do that I may inherit eternal life ? " The Lord was manifestly pre- sent, and blessed me abundantly ; and from that time to the present I have continued to labor in the vineyard of my blessed Redeemer, as faithfully as my small abilities have permitted. From Bradford I removed to Lisbon, N. H., and entered the employ of Mr. Stevens, on Sugar Hill, the 28th of the following May. Here there was no class of Methodists within five miles, and I was conse'quently deprived of the fellowship of my brethren. However, I devoted myself to the duties of my profession with the utmost punctuality* and, having been received into full membership by the church at Lisbon, and had my couiniission renewed as an exhorter, I went forward procluiming the Lamb of God un- ^, ■;■ • i :.\ 176 LIFE OF WILLI/ I B. LIOIITON. Ti^mptntioriH. The drunkard. m Si f ' !i '.I to all who came in my way. To incrca-sc iny qualifications, I adopted a systematic course of living ; devoting my business hours strictly to my employer, and my leisure to the improvement of my mind by study. As an assistant, I procured a copy of Dr. Adam Clarke's invaluable Com- mentary, together with some other theological works, which gave me much important information. , i ^ . So reserved were my manners, that many doubtless took occasion to think me scornful or proud, though my reserve originated in a desire to prevent myself from being drawn away by the example and conversation of the ungodly, who surrounded mc on every Iiand. This caution was doubly necessary from th^fact that Mr. S. sold spirituous liquors, which drew into his shop many wicked and profane men, who, Avhen the fumes of their drams had filled their brains, talked over their grog-shop divinity until their conversation was loathsomely disgusting. How often the debased drunk- ard, poor and penniless, talked as if he wei-e a wealthy man, a profound statesman, or a devoted Christian ! » What a miserable picture of depravity does a drunkard present to the observing eye ! Should the drunkard see this, he is entreated to pause and reflect upon his character and prospects. Considoi', dear, deluded one, that l>y drunken- ness you lower yourself beneath the poor brute whose labor furnishes you with the means of indulging your appetite. Think ; you are murdering your soul, and ruining your family, if, indeed, you have not done it already. Let con- science speak, and, as she speaks, give ear and turn your feet into the right way, and thou shalt save thy blood-bought soul from hell. O, may the haj)py day soon arrive when this " liquid Jlrc," this " distilled damnation,'" — for it deserves no better name,— shall be banished into tue oblivious deep. Ml 11 'ations, iig my sure to staiit, I e Coni- » which 2SS took reserve r drawn ily, who doubly liquors, lie men, L- brains, crsation i drunk- hy man, runkard ard see iiaracter runken- •sc labor ippctite. )g your iC't t'on- [our feet [gilt soul n this cserves lis deei), '^ lit LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIGIITON. 177 Billy rc|Nirt8. liinifUnes*. from whence may it never more return to intoxicate the brains of men ! . -" • '* '-^ Thus beset by profane characters, I couW but frequently ailministcr the word of reproof, for which they returned me volleys of fearful oaths and dreaund in vain amon^; the hundreds who surrounded me for a companion ; amid them all I was alone and solitary ; and I naturally sighed for an opportunity to change my relation in life, and seek a partner who should relieve my loneliness ; for now, there were none into whose 16 I' I ^- 178 LIKE OK WILLIAM 0. LIGtltON, Writes home. A lnvc«l ncqunintance. Marriage. A letter from England >-r bosoms I could pour out my sorrows, from wliose «ymputhif»s encouragement could be derived, or with whom I could claim kindred. Like the poet, I could L'uy, ' > " There are no friends or fathers here, , ... Nor spouses kind to sniile on me ; , . A brother's voice I cannot hear ; A mother's form I never see ; A sister's love I may not share. While here ill ex;7e still I roam. "■ - ' '.' 0, could I breathe my native air ..r Beneath that dear ancestral dome, ,, "' ■ . I'd rest content >_ Till life was spent. Nor sc^ek abroad a better home." ■ W ' "■4 About this time, I wrote a letter to my parents, informing them of my state and pro-ipects, and cxpcstulating with them for their suj)posed neglect in not answering my previ- ous letters, supi)osing they had not ansAvered them, through being offended with my former conduct ; this, however, proved not to be the case, as will hereafter appear. As I continued to improve my gift, my acquaintance with neighboring families enlarged. Among my especial ac- quaintance was the family of Mr. N. Judd, who, although they ranked among the mediocrity of the honest and indus- trious, were rich in faith, and in the knowlec ge of divine things. My first introduction to this family was in the month of August, 1827, and in April following, I was married to Susannah, their daughter. i^" . ' - ' «• *' *■ A few weeks previous to my marriage, a gentleman in- formed me that there was a letter in the post-office for me, and as it was directed to North America, he concluded that it was from England. Hastening to obtain it, it proved to L -E OP WILLIAM B. LICIITON. 179 A letter. be from ray father ; and us it may give the reader an idea of his feelings, it is lierc inserted. " Frampton, Decemfcer 1, 1827. "My dear Son, , » , ..... " I received your letter, dated October 6th, 1827, and I am very much surprised that you have not received any letter from nic, which is the cause of your most unhappy com[)laint. I liave received many letters from you, to which I have immediately sent answers. Your information that you have not received any since you left the Isle of Wight, gives me but poor satisfactian. The cause of those failures is, no doubt, owing to the great distance which sei)^rates us from each other ; and my letters have probably been lost on the way. ,.. « , ' *• Dc'sir soil, yoiir request has been gratified, in that I have attentively pciMsod your letter ; and in the first place, I commend you to God, and pray earnestly that he may be your guide, protector, and redeemer ; tliat you may honor and fear him all your life, be a useful and dignilied member of society, and, eventually, that we may all meet in heaven, where nothing shall separate us from th'it union and felicity which have been purchased for us by our blessed IJedoemer. " Let me also affectionately advise you, as you have es- caped your unpleasant condition and situation, for one of a more social and endearing character, to i)reserye it with deep-felt gratitude. Use every effort to make it agreeable to you, and be content in those fortunate circumstances in which providence and the mercy of God have placed you. " You will accept the ardent love and best wishes of your parents, and also the same sentiment of respect from all the family. We should be glad to see you return to your native "^^^W"!^' # ISO T-.~: v,-? LIPR OP WILLIAM B. LIGHTOK. ^•% BecniiiOT n raniier. DiMiimCic happlnent. 51 I hi,. • s5 land^ which may God grant. This leaves us all enjoying good beftlth, except your mother, whose weak constitution obligei) me to say that at times her health is rery precarious. Your cousin, James L , of S , died about twelve months ago. Your brother J is no better of his lameness. May this find you in the enjoyment of health ; and, O, may God bo with my transmarine son ! and bless and save you io his heavenly kingdom, which is the prayer of, dear son, " Your affectionate father, "William Ligiiton." '^ Tlie peiTTsal of this letter had no small influence over my feelings ; it was the first news I had received from my dear parents for seven loiig years ; it relieved me of the idea that they did not care for my welfare, which had long been a load of son-ow on my heart. Since that time, I have re- ceived two or three comniunieations from lliem every year; and nothing subsists between us but feelings of the most l)crfeet friendship and cordial affection. My term of hire having expired, I went to live with my wife's father, according to a i)revious agreement ; and, as he was considerably advanced in life, and somewhat infirm in body, I took his farm, and agreed to support him and his partner through life: in addition to the farm, I received ninety-six dolhirs a year, being the amount of a pension he received, as a reward for services rendered during the revo- lutionary war. Thus situated, we lived in the most harmonious and happy manner, a perfect contrast to the misery of my former days. Then I was the subject of the most inexpressible hardshii)s, doomed to bear the frowns of tyrants, and the insults of covetous masters ; now, thanks to a merciful Pi-ovidence, I ii i. 11 ^.^. * .St Ml.. ffrf^. plnem. jnjoying stitution cftriouf. t twelve • of his health ; fid bless prayer 11 ON/ ver my ny dear lea that been a ave re- y year ; le most 'ith my I, as he irm in and his 3ceived ?ion lie (3 revo- happy r days, dships, mlts of apce, I # '1 ii V- ' i ■■ ' i ': i:' »' t m I, I It N X Uj i •s*^--^ LIFE OP WlLtlAM B. LIGHTON. 181 Another letter. The letter. N i v^ ^ \ i ^ •i •^ ^ wa8 freed from my oppressors, had a happy home, and enjoyed the best of human comforts, a pious and godly com^ panion, who was dear to me as my own soul. Added to this, I was amid friends, whose generous kindness will ever endear them to my memory, and had neighbors, who had a high regard for the things of God, and whose hearts Avere touched with a Savior's love. These were blessings once foreign to my expectations, but now enjoyed in fond reality. Ojwhat shall I render to God "or all his goodness towards nie ? A few months after I wrote my answer to my father's fii*st letter, I received the following from him, which I beg leave to insert, as it breathes so mucli of the spirit of affec- tion and love : — " Frampton, Ekg., October 15, 1828. " Dear Son, " Your kind letter was received with great pleasure, and, O, what inexpressible joy I have had in perusing it, to find that you received my letters at last, after the numbers I have sent these seven years I It affords me much happiness to find you are enjoying good health, and also that you are married ; but above all it fills my soul with the* greatest possible satisfaction to hear that you love your God and Savior, and feel a deep interest for his glory. O, may the Lord bless and preserve you unto his holy kingdom. * * * m « « If #' " I should like to accept your invitation and emigrate to America, but my komef my native isle, has a charm almost too powerful to admit of a separation, in this my advanced stage of life. As yet, I know not how I shall act. I am not able to determine, at present, so as to give you a satis- factory answer, but return you my sincere thanks for your endemess towards me. * ♦ • » * 16* ^ v.. ] 1 4 182 LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIGHTOX. Hr^ The uuthor licenced to proiich. More communication!! from England. "In closing this, I commend you to Almighty God, who alone is able to watch over and bring you to his kingdom. — O, may he bless and enlighten you as to your duty, that you niJiy live a devoted and usefu^ life. We are all well, and all join in giving our love to you, and your dear wife, and her relatives, praying, if we should never meet each other on earth, we may be so unspeakably haj)py as to meet in heaven, to receive a crown of glory, where we may mingle our friendly souls in praising God forever, through Jesus Christ. . "I am, dear son, I "Your very affectionate father, - "William LiGHTON." Having continued to improve as an - xhorter for about two years, with the advice of my brethren, I obtained a license to preach at a quarterly meeting conference, held at Lisbc«i, April 25, 1829, the Rev. John Lord presiding elder. With this renewal of my commission, I felt the vast impor- tance of honoring it to the glory of God. May he forbid that I should ever be slack in warning the wicked to flee from the wrath to come. Save me, O Lord, from every principle of error, from the love of the world, and from every thing else that cannot bear to be tested by thy holy word, and by the things of* eternity. After receiving my license as a preacher, I again wrote to my parents, acquainting them with the interesting fact. They returned me the following answer the next Decem- ber:— . .-»*^j4^.., ..,.■.■.—--■-■ -"■'--- ■ ! r " Framktow, near Boston, August 8, 1829. " Dearly beloved Son, ^'I began to think the time long since I received a LIFE OP WILLIAM B. LlOnTON. 183 L-='tters from home. »» letter from you ; but the time has ai'rived in which I have received yours : it came to hand August 7th, 1829. Nothing gives me more satisfaction than to hear from you ; believe me, my son, when I say it is a happiness I enjoy above every other pleasure of the Avorld. Yes, thank God, I can now retire to my closet, and hold converse with my dutiful son, while I read your epistles. O, what a delightful hour ! How much I am obligated to praise the Lord, who has per- mitted me to see this moment ! TliC pleasure I have re- ceived from perusing your kind letter, has animtited and filled my soul with such exquisite happiness as words cannot express. And why all this joy and gratitude but because I have reason to believe my long-lost son is found ; that you love God, and the way of life and salvation ; but above all, that you are favored, by God's blessing and mercy, with the privilege of preaching the gospel of the Son of God ? O, this is too much for a father to bear ! So thoughtless were you about your soul before, and so regardless of friendly advice, and leaving the bosom of friends and home, as you did, — who can help rejoicing ? Ah, who could have thought of such a change ? Truly, * with God all things are possi- ble.' 'V ' . :. . - ^ ^ " With this feeling of soul, I eagerly seize my pen to communicate with you, in the form of a letter, and hasten to lose no time in so pleasing an employ. I have much to say by way of encouragement to you ; but I cannot express myself. Let me advise you to be humble ; abstain from every thing that does not bear the impress of that blessed gospel you profess to preach. Live near to God, and then I have no- fears concerning your prosperity and usefulness. M"; ,//4.»M*» let- shall no more rise between us^ to obstruct tis from the eti' joyment of our beloved fraternity. « « « ».« # * «'« : " Your most affectionate father, ■, ..' i. . i «i .i ij;r» "William LiGHTON." >; : -^i ''J Finding that my letter did not produce its intended ef- fect, but merely set him to ixiflocting upon my proposition, I wrote again upcMi the same subject, to Avhich I recei\'ed the following reply : — . . ■ :s*^,.\.-*' TRAyiTTOit, September ^, IS^2. « Affectionate Son, . > -^ "^ v^ * , ' - '' • " Through the blessing of God, we received your communication, dated April 24th, 1833. Your argument for me to come over to you is very strong and sincere ; but I cannot at present, determine so as to give you any deci- sive satisfaction about the subject. Yet, let me tell you, my dear son, the ties of parental affection are so strong as al- most, at times, to induce me to resolve ripon the undertak- ing. I should be very happy to sec you all, and to enjoy sweet solace, and end my days in your yVte and happy coun- try, and in the bosom of an affectionate and greatf'ul son ; but tlie distance seems too far, and the journey accompanied with a degree of mental anxiety and danger, which are the only ditKcnlties that seem to prevent that ha[)i>y meeting, which would be accompanied with all the feelings of an affectionate father. '. '^ ' *"•'", '?' *:. f^.' .( "Our country is progressing in oppression and wi*etched- ncss, which almost induces me to believe its fate is fixed. The reform bill has proved a dead letter, at least at pro- sent ; in consequence of this failure, the people have turned 186 LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIGIITOX. A heavy Ions. a deaf car to all plans of reformation. "What will be the consequence, I know not, but I fear it will result in a bloody contest. May the Lord have mercy upon us, and deliver us from the evil. W3 are all in sentiment, as usual, and enjoying good health. Accept our love and best wish- es. "Write at every oi)portunity ; and may the propitious smiles of our heavenly Father attend you and your be- loved family forever, which is the prayer of, dear son, " Your most affectionate father, ♦ . "William Liguton." 3 About April of this year, 1833, I was visited with a very serious affliction in my temporal circumstapces, and thus most effectually taught the mutability of all earthly things. For five years I had lived in tlie connubial bond with the utmost content and hapi)i»ess. Providence had blessed me with a young family of three children, a son and two daughters. Being located in a situation where my trade was of but little service, and feeling disposed to de- vote myself to it more exclusively, I concluded to sell my farm, and establish myself where it would be of more val- ue. , ' I sold my farm to a Mr. M'Bain Jamison, a man who had hitherto been upright and of whose honesty I hod not the remotest doubt ; lience I confidently reposed my prop- erty in his hands with no other security than his notes. Knowing he had obtained the command of my farm, some poor, miserable, notorious wretches influenced him to sell it and leave the country. He did so, and out of seven hun- dred dollars, the price of my little farm, I lost five hundred and twenty-five. He proceeded with his family to the west where, tcr aught I know, he is at present. LIFE OF WILLIAM fi* LlGlitOK. 187 ft wlio not some 3llit tiun- Ired the Moral effect of temftoral trin>. Rertections. This unfortunate occurrence threw me into deep trouble ; it come like a winter's cloud over my mind, and darkened my rising prospects of comfort and prosperity. However, by the grace of God, I was enabled to pursue a course which in every respect promoted my welfare. Though somewhat involved, it can be said, to the honor of my credi- tors, that they never injured so much as a hair of my hetul. Truly, the lord is merciful and good, in that he overrules every thing for my peace. I truly pity the man who I:i- jured me, and those who influenced him ; and M'ith all their gain I am still better off than they, lor I possess a con- science clear from guilt. My prayer to God is, that they may repent of the evil they have done, and be saved. The ensuing fall I hired a house in the town of Landaff, about five miles from my former residence, where aided by the smiles of an iiidulgcnt Heaven, I have been blessed far beyond my expectations with food and raiment, and, what is better than all, with spiritual prosperity. Truly, my loss has been sanctified ; it has taught me the utter fallacy of all earthly dependences, and led me to trust supremely in Him who is the well-spring of life, and whose resources never fail. , \ J' ' - ' . ' Thus, dear reader, I have presented you with a plain un- varnished detail of the events of my life, hoping that if you are still the subject of parental government, or in youj. minority, you will learn to be careful how you treat lightly the advice of you parents. Let all mj/ difficulties be bea- cons to warn you of the dangerous shoal. O, beware of folly. Shun every appearance of evil. Give your heart to God ; in all your ways ocknowledge him, and he will direct your paths. ^' ; -. ' I rejoice in being permitted to close this narative on my i :M 168 LIFE or WILLIAM B. LIGIITON. VVhnt is ilcHth ? birth-day. Thirty years have rolled over my head! they arc gone forever ! O, what wonders God has wrought for me, through all the years of my short life ! I have had my lot of sufferings and difficulties from the hands of wicked and unfeeling men. I have felt their frowns and their wrath ; but God has interposed, rescued and saved me from every evil, and brought me to a land of liberty and peace ; he has given me dear and affectionate friends. Truly God has been my refuge and present help in time of trouble, and, with all my unworthiness, my trust shall be in him for evermore ; ere-long and I shall sleep the sleep of death. O, that the Savior may be in my heart, and that the strength of God may sustain me in a dying hour, and grant me a triumphant resurrection to a glorious immortality. May my life on earth be henceforth spent to the glory of my blessed Master. May my labors for precious and un- dying souls cease only with my life. May He so teach me to number my days, that I may apply my heart unto wis- dom. A few more fleeting years, and what a change ! what new scenes will burst upon my ravished vision ! While living, changes will await me, and when I die, I shall see as seen by Him, and know as known to Eternal Wisdom, to the Ruling Spirit of the universe ! and O, what a change ! to become an inhabitant of the world of spirits ! •' Thou must expire, my soul, ortlained to range Through unexperienced scenes and misteries strange ; Dark the event and dismal the exchange. But when compelled to leave this house of clay, ' ] And to an unknown somewhere wing thy way ; When time shall be eternity, and thou . v Shalt be, thou know'st not what, nor where, nor how, — Trembling and pale, what wilt thou see or do ? T LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIGIITOX. isa DollKhtH of ImniortalUy. Amazing state ! No wonder that we dread ^ ' The thous^hts of death, or faces of the dead : -^ His black, retinue sorely strikes our mind, Siekness and p.'iin before and darkness all bt-hind. Some rourleoiis ghost, the secret then reveal ; Tell us what you have felt, and we must feel. You warn us of approaehint^ death, and why Will you not teac'- us wiiat it is to die ? But having shot the gulf you love to view ^ Succeeding siiirits ])lunged along like you ; Nor lend a fri'mdly hand to guide them through. When dire disi-aso shall cut or age untie. The knot of life, and sutler us to die — When, after some delay some tremblitig strife, The soul stands quivering on the riiige of life, — With fear and hope she throbs, then curious tries Some strange hereafter, and some hidden skies." ■•-Mr-.^- ^1 Nonnis. ■ But, O, if I am pvopared for such a change, how delight- ful it will be to awake from death, to be immortal, and live forever ! — to be among immortals, to renew those associa- tions with dear relatives and friends, which have been sus- pended for a season ! I can carry no tidings thithei*, for the affairs of this world are known to disembodied spirits. I can look around me for relatives and friends, and those refined principles of love and joy will there be renewed and enjoyed Ibi'cver. O, happy, happy region of boundless bliss ! There will be no changing then of time ; it will be eternity. O, ETERNITY ! that dreadful, pleasing thought ! I shall be immortal ! But shall I possess a crown of life ? Here rests the awful pause ! A crown of life ! My God, O thou eternal antl everlasting Father, hear thou a sinner's prayer ; lead me by thy good spirit, and so sustain me in 17 ?f?B""'" 190 LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIGIITOX. AiUirosN to the reader. I. ■■■''. my course, that I may find my all in thee, both in time and in eternity." And now, before I conclude, let me ask you, reader, "What are thy prospects beyond the grave ? O, what are thy hopes ? ITast thou a well-grounded hope of a blessed immortality, or art thou still in thy sins, an enemy to God by wicked works ? If thou art, is it not high time for thee to bethink thynelf on thy condition, and prepare thyself for the great event of thy life. Think, 0, think, how soon thou wilt have to leave this sh6rt, transitory scene of existence ! A few years, at the farthest, and then all will be over with thee here, and thou must appear a naked, disembodied spirit, at the awful bar of the august Majesty of heaven, to answer for thy conduct. O, let me urge thee to fly to Christ ; he is thy only Savior and sure friend. Have faith in his merits ; be deeply humble ; live in view of eternity, and in the solemn consequences of that vast and trying scene. Re- member that if you neglect to walk in the commands of €rod, *v on will be damned forever. % " Be wise, nor make Heaven's highest blessing venf^eance ; O, be wise, Nor make a curee of imniortalitf ! Say, know'st thou what it is, or what thou art ? ' " Know'st thou the impoi lance of a soul immortal ? Behold this midnight glory ; worlds on worlds ! Amazing pomp! Redouble this amaze ; .^ • Ten thousand add ; add twice ten thousand more ; ' Then 'weigh the whole : — one soul outweighs them all, And calls the astonishing magnificence Of unintelligent creation poor." " ' ' ' Jj; '.r Let thy soul bathe itself in the blessed Savior— " Sink into the purple flood, Rise to all, the life of God." '■V < /r/1'f ji^-.^r "'H^'^'^T*' ' LIFE OF WILLIAM B. LIGIITON. 191 Btiiily of the Itlltlu ut\!v^. The C'hrtstlan nlltlru^tMC(l. Seek and retain his sacred image in thy lieart, live on him by holy, conquering, irresistible faith, and thou shult be saved in heaven. - .• •* > Let me advise the to a constant and prayerful perusal of the Holy Scriptures ; acquaint thyself \vith them, as thou wouklst with thy chart, wert thou lost at sea, and exposed to perilous dangers near an unknown shore. Remember the J^ible h the star of eternity, a chart to guide thy frail bark into the haven of eternal rest. Make it the constant book of thy life. .• , -^ , With holy faith and prayer, - ' " Read God's word once, and you can read no more : For all books else appear so mean, so poor, Verse will seem prose ; but still persist to read, And God's word will be all the book you'll need." Never lay it aside because thou hast read it over and over, or because it may not be altogether so congenial to thy natural views and feelings ; but persist in thy acquaintance with it, with sincere prayer to God that thou mayst fully understand it. The Holy Scriptures are of indispensable use to thee, as they teach thee every thing relative to thy salvation, and to thy duty while a probationer here below. Let the dear reader, therefore, " Read, and revere the sacred page; a page Where triumphs immortality; a. page Whic'i not the whole creation could produce ; Which not the conflagration shall destroy ; In nature's ruins not one letter lost." . ^ = Ignorance and neglect of the Scriptures are the prime cause of so much infidelity and irreligion in the world. In- stead of men's approximating to them,and forming their lives ri '^'^^^■ 193 LIFE OF Wn.LIAM B. LIOIITOX. -• Conrluslon. by tlieir unerring authority, they set up their own systems, creeds, and notions, and foolishly war[> them to their un- Runctified designs. May God grant, dear reader, that you and I may come to the light of (iod's Word ; if we are condemned and cut off", amen ; but lot us come to the truth, ns it is in Jesus, that we may be saved in heaven. Christian reader, awake thou to thy duty ; sec thou hast every thing ready and in order for tiiy exit into another world, lie on tl:y post, and watch against the summons of the Captain of thy salvation. See thon maintainest family and secret prayer, and see that thou boldest daily commun- ion with thy Lord. Examine thyself as to thy title to heaven and happiness. I)o?it thou live, every day, a holy and devoted life, such as adorns thy i»rofession ? Hast thou Christ formed within thee, the hope of glory ? Hast thou an abiding witness, that thou art a child of God ? O, in a word, art thou, in the strictest sense, a true Christian ? Answer thy conscience, and 0, answer truly ! If thou art n^ ■-r^^--