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 A APPLIED irvHGE Inc 
 
 ^^ 1653 East Main Stre- t 
 
 5T.a; Rochester, New York 14609 USA 
 
 '-.^ (716) 482 - 0300 - Phone 
 
 ^= (716) 288 - 5989 - Fax 
 
THE MILITARY BLACKSMITH. 
 
THE 
 
 MILITARY BLACKSMITH. 
 
 i 
 
 
 TOKONTO AND MONTREAL : 
 JAMES CAMPBELL AND SON. 
 

 Lm J"" ' 
 
 6CdO 
 
 '^' - ' ',.-\) C.^y' 
 
 ^^ ' 
 
 
 H., 
 
THE 
 
 ) MILITARY BLACKSMITn. 
 
 ^ 
 
 * 
 
 • 
 
 PART L 
 
 " Tlie calm retreat, the silent shade, 
 With prayer and praise agree ; ■ 
 And seena, by thy sweet bounty, made 
 For those who follow Thee. 
 
 «• There if thy Spirit touch the soul, 
 And grace her mean abode, 
 Oh I with what peace, and joy, and love, 
 She communes with her God !" 
 
 At one period of my life, I resided in the neighbour- 
 ijig parish to Lochlethie ; but at that time I was too 
 ' ihuch occupied with the duties of a laborious pro- 
 'fession, to have many hours to spare. I was even 
 not much acquainted with its beauties, or with its 
 intricate paths. 
 
 Business with the minister happened to take me 
 on one occasion to his house, which was some miles 
 |istaiit from my own. The evening v \ my return 
 
 f 
 
1 
 
 4 TIIE MILITARY BLACKSmTH. 
 
 home, was sweet and calm. The sun had just set, 
 casting a bright glow upon every object around me , 
 not a breath a^tated the leaves of the trees ;^d 
 the birds were singing their evening song, ihis, 
 too, by degrees, died away, till 
 
 ..All was so still, so soft, in earth and »'.''. „ 
 
 You scarce would start to meet a spirit there. 
 
 This very stillness, and the gathering shades of 
 nieht, awoke me from a train of thought, mto which 
 Thad insensibly fallen ; and recollecting that X was 
 far from home, and that I did not know the vanous 
 difficult passes in the wild and romantic country m 
 which I was, I looked hastily round for some fnendly 
 Tottage, wh^re I might inquire the shortest way to 
 
 mv own home. , . , v -l j 
 
 Guided by a column of dark smoke, which I hoped 
 proceeded from some house, though as yet I saw Bone, 
 I descended an ahnost perpendicular cliff, at the foo 
 of which I found a blacksmith's forge, and a neat 
 little cabin buried in trees and rocks, winch ^^^^'^^ 
 formed to defend it equally from the stonns of winter 
 ^i from the heatof a summed sun I approached 
 the door, with the intention of walking m. At that 
 moment a strong manly ^"«\''«S*" f/"^',^* 
 was immediately followed by others. I .^t*""*^" 
 a moment, and discovered it was a f^ily at tteir 
 ** " _' . ,1 _x Ai^:„i,+Tr finfl. -who has 
 
 evening devotions to inui; -tjamio"v --- 
 
THE MILITARY BLACKSMITH. 
 
 ad just set, 
 around me ; 
 i trees ; and 
 
 it there. 
 
 ■ 
 
 ijr shades of 
 t, into which 
 or that X was 
 7 the various 
 ic country in 
 some friendly 
 oitest way to . 
 
 ^rhich i hoped 
 
 et I saw none, 
 
 iff, at the foot 
 
 je, and a neat 
 
 wliich seemed 
 
 >rms of winter | 
 
 I approached 
 
 r in. At that 
 ' 1 
 
 , to sing, and 
 
 I listened for 
 
 amily at their 
 
 rinrl- who has 
 
 said, that though He "inha^iteth eternity, and 
 dwelleth in the high and holy place, yet He will 
 dwell with him who is of a humble and contrite 
 spirit, to revive the spirit of the humble, and to re- 
 vive the heart of the contrite ones." 
 
 I remained rivetted to the spot. I felt, that 
 though all the works of the creation declare the glory 
 of God, yet man alone is formed to offer up that 
 tribute of praise which is due from the creature to the 
 Creator, 
 
 After the service was over, I entered the cottage, 
 a^l made known my wishes to a tall stout man, 
 seated in a large arm chair, with his wife and chil- 
 dren placed around him. He instantly rose, and 
 putting the Bible, from which he had been reading, 
 on a shelf, said, "I will show you the way, sir." 
 At that moment I perceived he had lost a leg ; and 
 casting a look towards a little rosy fellow who had 
 fixed his eyes upon me from the time I entered, I 
 said I feared it would trouble him ; that if one of the 
 children would just put me on the right road, that 
 was all I wanted. " no! and please your honour, 
 I will go myself," te replied , " thank God, though 
 1 1 have lost my leg, I need not complain of that; and 
 I can walk a good bit yet with the help of this 
 I stick." He then prepared to accompany me, saying 
 to his wife, "I will see the gentleman past the 
 Brownie's Knowe, — the road is easily found after 
 hliat." 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
6 
 
 TUK MILITARY BLACK8M1TH. 
 
 
 i: 
 
 I felt obliged to my conductor; and strongly 
 prepossessed °in his favour, })y bis frank open 
 countenance and manners, wo soon entered into 
 conversation. Ho told me that be bad lost bis 
 leg at tbe battle of Busaco, in tbe Penmsula, 
 adding, "That was a day bo would never forget." 
 
 Gentleman. " Wbat I was tbe carnage so great 
 on tbat occasion *? " 
 
 Soldier. " Yes, sir, tberc was enoii";b of tbat ; but 
 tbat is not just tbe tbing I mean." 
 
 Gent. "Tell me, tben, wbat you mean. Add to 
 your present kindness, by telling me a little of your 
 story, and wbetbcr you entered the army with those 
 feelings of religion, which I think now distinguish 
 your character." 
 
 Sol. " O no, sir ; I was enlisted while engaged 
 in a drunken frolic with several other young men, 
 and went into many a battle without one thought but 
 of how to merit the applause of my earthly com- 
 mander. But thoughtless as we are, and proud of 
 the glory we have won in many a bard battle against 
 tbe French, God can put a book in our nose, and a 
 bridle in our lips, and turn back the proudest of our 
 armies by tbe way in which it came, scattering the 
 members of it as com tbat is blasted before it is 
 grown up, or as grass upon the housetops. 
 
 Gent. " I do not understand you, my good friend ; 
 we were not defeated at Busaco,— it was a glorious 
 day for Britain. 
 
 cannc 
 moon 
 obscu 
 I Byth 
 
TOE MILITARY BLACKSMITH. 
 
 i Strongly 
 ank open 
 tered into 
 id lost his 
 Peninsula, 
 : forget." 
 ;e so great 
 
 )f that; but 
 
 n. Add to 
 
 ttle of your 
 
 with those 
 
 distinguish 
 
 ile engaged 
 young men, 
 thought but 
 arthly com- 
 nd proud of 
 attle against 
 
 nose, and a 
 ludest of our 
 mattering the 
 
 before it is 
 
 DS. 
 
 good firiend; 
 as a glorious 
 
 Sol. " I was defeated, sir, though, thank Gt d, our 
 men beat the French. Early in the day I got my 
 V jund, and was so stunned, that I can tell you little 
 of what passed, till late in the evening after the 
 troops had removed homo, when I opened my eyes. 
 All around mo was dark and dreary; small rain was 
 falling thickly. I supposed myself left there as dead, 
 and for a few minutes felt a loneliness of heart I 
 cannot describe. The rain ceased, the full, bright 
 moon struggled through the thick clouds that had 
 obscured her, and shone forth with peculiar lustre. 
 By this light, I saw our men scattered on the ground, 
 — a ghastly Bight ! 
 
 " I made a motion to rise, when the sergeant of 
 our company called out to me, and inquired in a 
 feeble voice who I was. I told him I was Duncan 
 M'Donald ; but I said no more. This n.an I had 
 long laughed at. He was very religious, and had 
 often reproved me and my companions for our wickod 
 ways. The very night before the battle, I had found 
 him in a retired spot, reading his Bible with such 
 attention, that he did not hear me till I was close to 
 him. He then looked up : his eye was moistened by 
 a tear; and in a cheerful animated tone he said, 
 'Duncan, are you ready to be shot to-morrow?* 
 1 answered shortly, * As rer dy as my neighbours' — 
 ' Not so ready, believe me, as those who have ob- 
 tained peace with God through the blood of the 
 
 t! 
 
 
 
 iVi. 
 
 
8 
 
 THE MILITARY BLACKSMITIT. 
 
 and to die is gain " * — ^he replied in a tone of exulta- 
 tion that filled me with wonder ; and for the first 
 time in my life, I did think with anxiety of what 
 should hecome of my soul if I should be killed the 
 next day. But then, when I ioined my messmates, 
 and we spoke of meeting the French the next day, 
 I told them how Grant was employed, and laughed 
 the loudest at the coward (as we called him) who was 
 getting ready to die." 
 
 Gent. " Well, and what were your thoughts when 
 you were both laid on the cold ground ? Did you 
 think he had chosen the l)etter part? " 
 
 Sol. "No; but I felt humbled, and when my 
 sergeant said, * Duncan, I am mortally wounded; 
 tell my wife, if you survive, that I commit her^ 
 that God who at this moment I feel to be all- 
 sufiicient ; teU her to trust in Christ ; that she will 
 feel in the hour of death that He is a sure refuge, and 
 able to keep that which she shall commit to Him, till 
 the day of his appearing. Tell her, 0, I cannot!' 
 Upon that, sir, he fainted. 
 
 " I made out to draw close to him, and to take off 
 his cap. In a little he opened his eyes, and with 
 eagerness said, * Tell her to bring up my children in 
 the fear of God, to train them up for eternity. Give 
 her my Bible, it is in my knapsack. No, Duncan, 
 she already loves it, I give it to you. It is the word 
 f f God: ! read it as such, and may it lead you 
 to Him who is truth I * Here he again fainted. I 
 
THE mLIlAKf BLACKSMITn. 
 
 9 
 
 lay down by him quite exhausted, but more so by 
 the awe that was upon my mind, than even my 
 bodily pain. God seemed present with me, and 7, 
 a guilty sinner, ready to enter into hell.. In a few 
 minutes he again revived, and raising his hand with 
 energy, he exclaimed, 'I know my Kedeemer, I shall 
 see Him as He is. I shall be like Him, — O blessed 
 hope ! for ever ! for ever ! ' With that he died, sir. 
 And I can tell you no more till I found myself laid 
 on a comfortable bed in the hospital, and my poor 
 wife weeping beside me. When I opened my eyes, 
 she burst into a flood of tears, and for a few minutes 
 every other feeling was lost in the pleasure of finding 
 both her and myself alive, and together. 
 
 " But this did not last. I was veiy ill, and the 
 idea of death soon returned with still more horror. 
 There was a reality the scene I had witnessed, 
 that convinced me James Grant had indeed not 
 trusted in cunningly devised fables, — that he did 
 know in whom he had believed. The impression 
 that he was gone to heaven, and that I was going to 
 hell, remained constantly upon my thoughts. But I 
 will not trouble you, sir, with all my sufferings at that 
 time, both of body and of mind, or how long it was 
 before I could form a hope that God would save me." 
 
 Here Duncan paused. 
 
 The gentleman, who had listened to the preceding 
 account with the deepest attention, expressed hia 
 interest, and asked him to J)roceed. After clearing 
 
 ill 
 
 I 
 
20 
 
 THE MILITARY BLACKSMITH. 
 
 his voice once or twice, he went on thus : " Well 
 then, sir, I lay tossing on my bed, — my leg, and a 
 sabre wound in my head, gave me the greatest pain ; 
 yet such was the pain in my mind, that I hardly 
 remember any thing else. 
 
 " The doctors said my leg must be taken off when 
 I had strength to bear the operation. My poor wife 
 gave herself up to despair at this information ; but I 
 heeded them not, and only raved about death and 
 eternity. When I got a little more composed I 
 listened to my wife, and others, while they advised 
 me ' not to distress myself so much, but to pray to 
 Grod ; * that ' He was very merciful, and would have 
 pity upon me if I did my best ; and that ' Christ had 
 died for men.' 
 
 " I tried their advice, but never found any good 
 from it. I never did all I intended, and how could 
 I know whether it was enough in the sight of God ? 
 What was I to do with my past sins ? Well do I 
 understand the feelings that made the idolaters of old 
 * offer their first born for the transgression of their 
 soul!* for had I known any one duty which, by 
 compensating for my past iniquities, would have 
 purchased for me an exemption from punishment and 
 a title to heaven, gladly at that moment would I have 
 set about such a work, even though it had been pain- 
 ful as the lingering self-torment I had seen a Hindoo 
 Brahmin inflict upon himself while I served in India. 
 But to keep all God's laws, to love Him with mj 
 
THE JnLITART BLACKSMITH. 
 
 11 
 
 "Well 
 
 *, and a 
 
 3t pain ; 
 
 hardly 
 
 »ff when 
 3or wife 
 I ; but I 
 sath and 
 posed I 
 advised 
 pray to 
 lid have 
 irist had 
 
 ,ny good 
 >w could 
 of God? 
 rell do I 
 rs of old 
 of their 
 hich, by 
 ild have 
 nent and 
 id I have 
 2en pain- 
 i Hindoo 
 in India, 
 with mj 
 
 whole heart, — to do to my neighbour in all respects 
 as I wish ""d him to do to me, I felt to be impossible ; 
 and tl:0 vice of my well-meaning friends, and my 
 own attempts, only increased my despair." 
 
 Gent. •' And did you not meet with any one who 
 could lead you to Christ, as the Mediator between 
 God and man, and show you how He could retain 
 his character of a just God and a Saviour?" 
 
 Sol. "Not one, sir. But, at last, one night I 
 thouglit of the Bible James Grant had left me, and 
 of his having said that it was the 'word of God,* and 
 of his prayer that it might ' lead me to Him who was 
 truth.' As soon as it was day, I sent my wife to 
 inquire when the goods of the killed were to be sold, 
 and to say that James had given me his Bible. The 
 captain read and valued the Bible himself, and was 
 pleased with this request; he desired that it might be 
 given to my wife immediately, and that I could settle 
 whether or not I was to pay for it afterwards. 
 
 " My poor Kate brought it to me as fast as she 
 could. It seemed to have been well read. Many 
 leaves were turned down, and many texts marked. I 
 trembled when I got it, and repeated to myself, the 
 'word of God,' to 'lead me to Him who 13 truth!' 
 It was some moments before I durst open this sacred 
 volume ; when I did so, a verse marked, and the 
 leaf folded down, caught my eye ; it was in St John 
 xiv. 6, ' I am the way, and the truth, and the life ; 
 no man cometh unto the li'ather but by me.' I read 
 
 : I 
 
 ,1 
 11 
 
 ff 
 
 : Ik 
 
12 
 
 THE MILITARY BLACKSMITH. 
 
 no more. Was it Christ by whom I was to come ! 
 O ! my soul did at that moment desire a teacher 
 most earnestly. I looked up to God, and again 
 taking up the Bible, I read on all that chapter. I did 
 not understand almost any of it — still it soothed me! 
 and when I came to the thirteenth verse, ' Whatso- 
 ever ye shall ask in my name, that will I do, that the 
 Father may be glorified in the Son,* light seemed to 
 break in upon my mind. I saw at last how I must 
 pray, and hope mingled with this new light. 
 
 "From that day, sir, I studied the Bible, and found 
 that it spoke a very different language from my for- 
 mer teachers. Every page showed me more deeply 
 that I was a sinner, and brought me more humbly to 
 Christ Jesus. I then understood how the law, writ- 
 ten on my heart, had been a schoolmaster to bring 
 me unto Christ, and that after it had done that office, 
 it still remained a rule of life, which daily shows me 
 more plainly that sin mixes in all I do, and that I 
 need the blood of Christ to cleanse me from all sin ; 
 and that after I have come unto Him that I may have 
 life, I must ' come daily, thai I may have it more 
 *ftT)undantly, for without Him I can do nothing.' " 
 
 ^Gent. "Well, my good friend, and what did 
 your friends in the hospital say to your change of 
 sentiment?" • 
 
 Sol. " Not much, sir, for I was so fully occupied, 
 and so weak, that I spoke little ; but when my mind 
 was at ease, my fever left me and 1 grew stronger. 
 
to come ! 
 a teacher 
 ,nd again 
 3r. I did 
 Dthed me! 
 'Whatso- 
 >, that the 
 seemed to 
 iw I must 
 t. 
 
 and found 
 Q my for- 
 »re deeply 
 lumbly to 
 law, writ- 
 • to bring 
 hat office, 
 shows me 
 ad that I 
 m all sin ; 
 may have 
 e it more 
 hing.'" 
 what did 
 change of 
 
 occupied, 
 I my mind 
 ' stronger. 
 
 THE MILITAEY BLACKSmiH. 
 
 13 
 
 The doctors fixed a day to tr.ke off my leg ; I shall 
 never forget my poor Kate's distress ; she looked at 
 me with a face that melted my very heart ; but I told 
 her I would rather lose both my legs than return to 
 the state of mind I had been in. She did not under- 
 stand me, only begging me to lie still. The day 
 came; my right leg was cut off, and I literally 
 applied to myself the text, * Better to enter into the 
 kingdom of heaven halt or maimed, than having two 
 legs to go into hell-fire.' 
 
 " After that, my story is very short ; I soon ob- 
 tained my discharge, and a pension. My wife and 
 I settled in this country, with our children, for we 
 had then but three, though we have eight now. I 
 had been bred a blacksmith, and in a short time got 
 enough of employment, when added to my pension, 
 to support my family in comfort. My wife and 1 
 read our Bibles together; we prayed over them. 
 She got on faster than I, and had to stand fewer 
 remarks upon the change of life that followed, for 
 she had fewer bad habits. She was a very faithful 
 help to me ; and we now often agree that we were 
 never before so happy in our lives, only she cannol 
 bear to think of the day on which I got my leg cnt 
 off. Our children are dutiful and affectionate. 
 Surely, sir, I may say, ' Goodness and mercy have 
 followed me all the days of my life.' When working 
 in my forge, 1 often look back and think that I am 
 the poor guilty prodigal, — ^I hope I am returned to 
 
 B 
 
 :J| 
 
II 
 
 u 
 
 THE MILITARY BLACKSMITH. 
 
 my Father's house. Only those who have tried 
 both ways of life, can form an idea of the difference 
 of happiness to be enjoyed here below, from the one 
 com >ared to the other." 
 
 We had been some minutes standing on the 
 Brownie's Knowe, and, at the end of this speech, my 
 tall companion pointed out the road to me with 
 care ; and after shaking hands, and mutually invit- 
 ing each other to our several houses, we parted, and 
 I hastened home. 
 
 .J 
 
 ^ 
 
THE inLITARr BLACKSMITH. 
 
 15 
 
 PART, n 
 
 * The rush may rise where waters flov, 
 
 And flags beside the stream ; 
 But soon their verdure fades and dies 
 
 Before the scorchiag beam ; 
 
 " So is the sinner's hope cut o£F; 
 
 Or, if it transient rise, 
 'Tis like thd spider's airy web, 
 . From every breath that flies. 
 
 After the event»4hat I have related, my military 
 friend experienced some heavy trials. His daughter 
 Marion had reached her seventeenth year, and was 
 the eldest of the family. With pain and labour her 
 parents had carried her during many a long march. 
 Many a feeling of fatigue and anxiety she had be- 
 guiled by her innocent prattle, and made all their 
 toil seem light by her love and playfulness. Mrs 
 Somerville, who lived in the big house, now offered 
 to take Marion into her service, as under house-maid. 
 So very desirable an offer, on her first going to 
 service, was not to be refused ; indeed it filled the 
 parents' hearts with joy, particularly as Mrs Somer- 
 ville was considered a very good mistress. She had 
 often, when walking, called at their cottage, and 
 delighted the whole familv bv h(^v \^\r\i\ ami o-pnfio 
 way of speaking. With all these advantages, the 
 
). 
 
 ! * 
 
 16 
 
 THE MILITARY BLACKSmTH. 
 
 offer was accepted with joy ; but as the time drew 
 near, pain at the idea of parting with their dear child, 
 and anxiety regarding her, filled the hearts of both 
 parents. 
 
 The evening before Marion was to set out, Duncan 
 took her apart from the rest of the family. He 
 spoke to her in the kindest and most serious manner. 
 He told her of the deceitfulness of her own heart, — 
 of the dangers she would meet with — of that God 
 who seeth in secret, who hears every prayer, numbers 
 every sigh, and who has promised that those who 
 wait upon Him shall renew their strength. He then 
 knelt down with her, and with a full heart committed 
 her to God in prayer, Marion wept much ; she 
 fervently joined in her father's prayer, that she might 
 be preserved from every danger, and that she might 
 be early numbered among the lambs of Christ's flock, 
 — that He would guide, protect, and defend her. 
 
 Many were the good resolutions with which she 
 set out, and tender was her parting with her parents, 
 and with her brothers and her sisters. 
 
 When she arrived at the big house, Mrs Somer- 
 ville sent for her, and telling her what was to be her 
 work in the gentlest way, she added that she hoped 
 she would be happy, and be a good girl. Marion 
 felt encouraged and grateful, — she fully expected to 
 be happy with so good a mistrjese. With the servants 
 below she felt strange and awkward ; every thing 
 was new to her, and thej amused themselves with 
 
t 
 
 THE MILITARY BLACKSMITH, 
 
 17 
 
 her looks of wonder at all that differed from what 
 she had seen in her father's cottage ; but in a few 
 days she began to get up her spirits, and to be pleased 
 and attracted with all the novelty she saw around 
 her. She slept in the same room with Nancy, the 
 upper chamber-maid. For the first week Marion 
 had risen early, and unperceived by Nancy, had 
 spent the first half hour of every day in reading her 
 Bible, and in prayer. One morning Nancy awoke, 
 and perceiving how she was employed, said nothing 
 at the time, but hastened her to her work. After- 
 wards, when they were cleaning out Mrs Somerville's 
 room together, Nancy said, " So, Marion, you are one 
 of the preaching sort. I warn you that you wiU 
 have a fine life of it here ; wait till James hears of it." 
 Marion. " I do not know what you mean." 
 Nanci/. " What makes you rise in the morning, 
 poring over your Bible, when I am still snug in my 
 bed?" 
 
 Marion. " What harm will that do me ? I read 
 
 the Bible every day ; my father and mother taught 
 
 me to do so." 
 Hancj/. " Well, and what good does it do you ?" 
 Marion. " I there learn the will of God, and how 
 
 to obey Him. How else shall I be ready to die ?" 
 Ifancy. " One thing I will tell you, you had better 
 
 not speak in that way, or go on in that way here.'* 
 Marion. « What harm will it do to you I" 
 2fanci/. "We all hate these very good people; 
 
 
 I' 
 'I ■ 
 
18 
 
 THE MILITARY BLACKSMITD. 
 
 they are a parcel of hypocrites, and are the first to 
 tell tales, and do one an ill turn." 
 
 Marion. " I never tell tales. My father could not 
 bear any of us to do so." 
 
 Nancy. " Well, we will see." 
 
 Marion was astonished, and did not know how to 
 understand the threats that were thrown out by 
 Nancy. Her father had often told her never to mind, 
 when people laughed at her for serving God accord- 
 ing to his own commandment. He had told her, 
 they would only do so while they hoped to turn her 
 from the right path ; that whenever her own steady 
 conduct had convinced them that they need form no 
 such hope, they would let her alone. But he had 
 added that this was not our rest, — that we must 
 expect difficulty, — and that we must by prayer and 
 watchfulness, obtain strength to withstand it. Still 
 Marion felt puzzled and solitary. She formed no plan, 
 and was quite unprepared what to answer, when 
 Nancy told James at dinner that she was one of your 
 methodistical folks, and that he would do well to quiz 
 her out of it. Marion denied the charge, and said, 
 with manv blushes, that she was not more serious 
 than others. James said, with a sneer, that he was 
 glad to hear it ; but to take care, for he enjoyed meet- 
 ing with a hypocrite, it was such good fun to roast 
 them out of it. 
 
 Marion's conscience reproached her deeply for 
 die part she had acted ; ^le remembered that our 
 
THE MILITARY BLACKSMITH. 
 
 19 
 
 J first to 
 ould not 
 
 7 how to 
 out by 
 to mind, 
 I accord- 
 ;old her, 
 turn her 
 n steady 
 form no 
 b he had 
 pre must 
 ayer and 
 it. Still 
 [ no plan, 
 er, when 
 e of your 
 U to quiz 
 a,nd said, 
 e serious 
 -t he was 
 red meet- 
 to roast 
 
 leply for 
 that our 
 
 Saviour said, " Whosoever will deny me before men, 
 Mm shall I deny before my Father and the holy 
 angels. Ye cannot serve two masters ; for either ye 
 will hate the one, and love the other, or else ye will 
 hold to the one, and despise the other. Ye cannot 
 serve God and Mammon." Marion was uncomfort- 
 sible. The usual hour of her evening devotions 
 returned, — the hour when she knew her family at 
 liome would be offering their prayers for the con- 
 tinued guidance and protection of a God of mercy, 
 — when she would be remembered by her dear father 
 at a throne of grace. It had hitherto been a time 
 of soothing comfort, now it was spent in self-reproach 
 and fears. But she did not set herself in earnest to 
 obey God, to follow the footsteps of her Saviour 
 through good report, and through evil report. She 
 shrunk from the scorn of the wicked, and forgot that 
 the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and 
 that He has promised to be with us in every trial. 
 
 A few weeks passed, in which nothing particular 
 occurred. Marion felt the insensible influence of 
 living with those who did not acknowledge God in 
 all their ways. Her heart gi-ew spiritually cold and 
 dead. She read the Bible without attention or self- 
 application ; and, in her prayers, she sought more to 
 quiet her owil conscience by the form, than by hold- 
 ing communion with God in Christ, to obtain the 
 strength and guidance she required. 
 
 After some weeks passed in this way, the family 
 
( 
 
 20 
 
 THE MILITARY BLACKSMITH. 
 
 1 • 
 
 of Mr and Mrs Somervillo removed to Edinburgh, 
 with the intention of spending the winter there. A 
 short tins'' after their arrival, Nancy told Marion thar 
 they worn uoing to have a violin and a dance; that 
 General Dundas's, servants with somo. othcv people, 
 were coming, but not to be a tell-tale, and say any 
 thing a^ut it. 
 
 Marion. " What ! does IVIrs Somerville not allow 
 it?" 
 
 Nancy. '* no ! it is needless to say any thing to 
 her about it. She is to be out herself that night." 
 
 Marion. "But what v/ill come of the cuFLoin? 
 which she is in such a hurry to have ilnish' *' ?" 
 
 Nancy. " O never mind the curtains, they can be 
 done again. We cannot be always slaving." 
 
 Marion. " But, Nancy, my father taught me, that 
 to neglect my work when I received wages for doing 
 it, was not much more honest than actual theft." 
 
 Nancy. (Angrily.) " Nonsense, your father knows 
 nothing about the matter ; and I ftmcy he was not 
 ahvays so particular as he is now. People often 
 make one law for their neighbour, and another for 
 themselves." 
 
 Marion. " My Aither never does that ; he laments 
 his conduct when young, and blames it openly." 
 
 Nancy. " Well, dress yourself without more ado ; 
 who knows what General Dundas's servants may 
 think of your rosy face If " 
 
 Marion felt as in a ne^A^ world, and very solitary. 
 
TllE MIl.ITARY BLACKSMlTn. 
 
 XI 
 
 nburgh, 
 ere. A 
 ion thaf. 
 le; that 
 • people, 
 say any 
 
 ot allow 
 
 thing to 
 
 light." 
 
 cuptains 
 
 0?" 
 
 y can be 
 
 me, that 
 or doing 
 left." 
 ir knows 
 was not 
 »le often 
 >ther for 
 
 laments 
 nly." 
 ore ado ; 
 nts may 
 
 solitary. 
 
 She knew that ti. uuder-cook, wl'C i»' d been hired 
 after the family's iu-riviil in Edinburgh, was very re- 
 ligious ; she woi (Irred what she meant to do, and 
 determined to consult lior, though perhaps not ( v 
 actly to do the same, for she was a poor orphan 
 girl, but very lately in jilacc, and still very ill clothed; 
 for which reason, she was little thought of by the 
 gayer part of the servants, thougli she did her work 
 better and more steadily than any of them. 
 
 Poor Sally had not been told of the intende<l party, 
 but she advised Marion to have nothing to do with 
 it. The two girls had a long conversation, in which 
 Sally spoke strongly of the danger they were in, and 
 that they must watch carefully against the very ap- 
 pearance of evil. Marion still remained u odecided, 
 and before she was come to any determinat ion, Mrs 
 Somerville went out, and the party assembled in the 
 servants' hall. Sally was hardly invited, ) ut her 
 anxiety about Marion took her in. The i\ o girls 
 were whispering to each other, when Nanc} . after 
 saying something aside to James, and one ( f the 
 General's servants, called out, " Now, Marion, take 
 care how you listen to mischief." 
 
 Both the men then joined, and inquired what she 
 meant by mischief. 
 
 Naamj, " Wliy, there's Sally would think it a sin 
 to take any diversion, and perhaps that does vv ell 
 enough for the under-cook. But Marion has h df 
 a mind to follow the same kind of plan." 
 
22 
 
 THE MILITARY BLACKSJUTH. 
 
 
 It / 
 
 Sally, (Seeing Marion look so much alarmed said 
 mildly), " Nancy, my diversions and yours are not 
 the same, but believe me, I would not change with 
 you, and the day may come when you would change 
 with me." 
 
 Nanqj. " And what day will that be ? when I am 
 old and ugly?" 
 
 All the company laughed loud at this piece of wit, 
 and one of the General's servants took out Marion, 
 while James and Nancy also stood up and began a 
 reel. 
 
 Sally stayed till the end of the reel, then again re- 
 newed her persuasions to Marion to come away with 
 her. But all she said was drowned by the laughter 
 and jokes of the party. So, after this fruitless attempt, 
 she rose and left the servants' hall. She went to her 
 own little room, and there with her Bible, and a 
 heart that could with confidence look up to God for 
 his help and guidance in all things, she soon forgot 
 every unpleasant feeling but those which Marion's 
 present situation awakened in her mind. For her 
 she felt greatly more anxious than for the others, for 
 she had seen enough of her to know that she was 
 acting against light 
 
 Marion spent the evening in a noisy gaiety she had 
 never before witnessed. Many things were laughed 
 at, which she had been in the habit of hearing 
 approved of. Nothing was so great a sin in the eyes 
 of her present associates, as to be what they called 
 
THE MILITARY BLACKSMITH. 
 
 23 
 
 Died said 
 I are not 
 Qge with 
 d change 
 
 hen I am 
 
 ce of wit, 
 
 ; Marion, 
 
 hegan a 
 
 again re- 
 way witli 
 
 laughter 
 5 attempt, 
 ent to her 
 le, and a 
 ) God for 
 on forgot 
 Marion's 
 
 For her 
 ithers, for 
 t she was 
 
 ty she had 
 e laughed 
 if hearing 
 n tlic eyes 
 bey called 
 
 "preaching creatures," "who thought themselves 
 better than any one else." Many allusions were 
 made to a house-maid who had quitted Mrs Somer- 
 ville last term. One of the men sat down, and cast- 
 ing up his eyes, and drawing down the comers of his 
 mouth, declared that was the way she sat in church. 
 Then clapping Marion on the shoulder, he advised 
 her to take care of such folly, for that he could assure 
 her if she did not, she would never get a sweetheai-t 
 in her life. Marion's heart filled ; she felt that these 
 opinions so laughed at, were the opinions of her kind 
 father and mother, and which they had learnt from 
 the Bible. But she had not the boldness to say so, 
 and even joined in the laugh. 
 
 When they went to bed, Marion told Sally all that 
 had passed. Sally blamed her for having stayed, and 
 told her, that it would be more difiicult for her to 
 avoid remaining the next time ; that people must 
 determine to be either one thing or another. We must 
 not " halt between two opinions." We must decide 
 whether we mean to serve God or the world. 
 
 Marion. " But, Sally, is it wrong to join in a little 
 diversion?" 
 
 Salli/. " Answer that yourself. Do you think that 
 you spent last night without much sm ? The people 
 came to your master's house without his knowledge. 
 Not one bit of the work for which they received 
 
 Is that honeMf* 
 
 trnrraa nroa Ann 
 
 a "h-ar Viia spwn.nts. 
 
 Marion, " But that was thek fault, not mine." 
 
II 
 
 24 
 
 THE MILITARY BLACKSmTH. 
 
 Sally. " If you remained with them, you equally 
 neglected your work, and joined in their bad ways ; 
 and we are to ' have no fellowship with the unfruit- 
 ful works of darkness, but rather to reprove them.' 
 But to come to yourself, did you not join in laughing 
 at many things you had been taught to think right? 
 And even if you had not so been brought up, they 
 are right according to God's unerring word, and by 
 that word we shall all be judged. Have you not 
 prayed to be kept out of temptation ? Dare you then 
 place yourself in it, and lose all sobriety of mind?" 
 
 Marion sighed, but was silent. 
 
 Sally. " And what do you say to other practices, 
 for instance all the opening of notes that goes on ? 
 Do you remember the other night, when Nancy 
 opened the still wet wafer in the letter tli>\l was 
 brought for Miss Rogers the governess, ^m^. James 
 read it aloud to every one present ? Did you not say 
 that you hoped the answer would be sent down to 
 the kitchen before the wafer was dry, that you 
 might know whether Miss Rogers meant to assist her 
 friend or not?" 
 
 Marion. " I do not say that was right, but it 
 would do Miss Rogers no harm, our knowing thai 
 her friend applied to her when in distress." 
 
 Sally. " No harm to Miss Rogers ! but what do 
 you think of the conduct of those who thus betray 
 
 those secrets, which I am convinced she would feel 
 
THE MILITARY BLACKSMITH. 
 
 25 
 
 much greater theft than if you had opened her 
 drawers, and taken away her best gown or cap, — not 
 that they are very safe either. Let us beware of 
 calling things by a wi'ong name ; and ! Marion, 
 remember what Scripture says of eye-service." 
 
 Marion. " What do you mean, Sally ? I do not 
 open Miss Rogers* drawers." 
 
 Salhj. " No, Marion ; such great sins you would 
 fear ; still, what is the difference between opening 
 drawers and wearing the things that are kept in 
 them?" 
 
 Marion. (Angrily.) "You have been spying, I 
 suppose, that I put on a pair of stockings belonging 
 to one of the young ladies to go to Church last 
 Sunday." 
 
 Sally. " It does not require much spying, to see that 
 many things are worn by servants in this house 
 that do not belong to them. The love of dress leads 
 to wrong things, which, if not theft by the laws of 
 man, are certainly little different from it by the laws 
 of God." 
 
 Marion. (Still angrily.) " Sally, it is true what 
 Nancy says, that some good people are the first to find 
 fault and to tell tales." . 
 
 Sally. "Marion, I wish to save you from the 
 danger to which we are both exposed : but if you 
 are angry, I will say no more." 
 
 Marion. (In tears.) " Oh no ! Sally, I well know 
 you are right ; but I cannot bear to be laughed at i 
 
I 
 
 26 
 
 THE MILITABY BLACKSMITH. 
 
 and though you are far better than I, yet they laugh 
 so at you, and treat you with such contempt." 
 
 Salhj. " I know they do; and if they laughed at me 
 for any thing wrong or foolish, then I would hope to 
 take the truth, and be the better for it, though not 
 given in a pleasant manner. But when they only 
 laugh at me for being afraid of temptation, and for 
 daring to disapprove of their dishonest, sinful ways, 
 what the worse am I ? May I not even hope that 
 my God will make their very laughing turn to my 
 good ? for He has said, * Happy are ye when men say 
 all manner of evil oijoxx falsely.'" 
 
 Marion, " WeU, SaUy, I know you are right, and 
 I will try. But General Dundas's servants will 
 laugh so dreadfully at me." 
 
 Sally. " O Marion ! do you think any of our 
 Saviour's disciples would have left all and followed 
 Him, if they had minded the sneers of their friends 
 and neighbours, who knew Him so little that they 
 said all his mighty miracles were done by the power 
 of Beelzebub, and finished by crucifying the Lord of 
 glory? O! remember, my dear Marion, that we 
 cannot serve two masters. Do let us try in the be- 
 ginning of life, to choose the right path,— every hour 
 we depart from it renders it only more difficult for 
 us to return, though * wisdom's ways are ways ot 
 pleasantness, and all her paths are peace.* I do 
 not believe vou are so hannv as von wpro. 
 left that simple road." 
 
 ... J ,^j. 
 
THE MILITAKY BLACKSMITH. 
 
 27 
 
 ley laugh 
 t. 
 
 led at me 
 d hope to 
 Dupjh not 
 ;hey only 
 , and for 
 ful ways, 
 ope that 
 n to my 
 men say 
 
 ight, and 
 mts will 
 
 ■ of our 
 followed 
 r friends 
 hat they 
 le power 
 1 Lord of 
 that we 
 I the be- 
 jry hour 
 icult for 
 ways ot 
 .' I do 
 
 npft vmi 
 
 Marion burst into tears, and confessed that Sally 
 was right, — that she would try and be more steady. 
 Yet she could not see the necessity of staying away 
 from what she had no blame in beginning, when her 
 work was done. And, surely, people might be re- 
 ligious without being laughed at. No one ever 
 laughed at her father. 
 
 Sally. "Not now, that he iias been religious 
 for many years ; but I dare say he had some 
 difficulties at first, and .that many of his companions 
 would consider him a methodistical, canting, praying 
 fellow. He very likely, too, had merited this, 
 by laughing at others, before he himself became 
 religious." 
 
 Marion. "How do you know that? — ^you never 
 saw my father." 
 
 Sally. " Never ; but it is the fate of every one 
 when he first comes forth, and is separated from a 
 world lying in wickedness. Those who are still the 
 servants of Satan, do his work, and throw evei*} 
 difficulty in the way of those who desire to escape 
 fi-om that state of sin and corruption in which all are 
 born, and to flee to Him whose service is perfect 
 fi'eedom." 
 
 Marion, at home, had listened to her father, while 
 he read and explained the sacred Scriptures. She 
 had joined in his fervent prayers with emotion ; and 
 
 I n-: j_ J 1 ii?i--j _xa; X, ^j ii,„4. i-V,:.- 
 
 IiV;X' il iUIlUS clUU UeiBUii liUU, iil l,illiC3, liUpCU Lliat lUUrr 
 
 was the effect of a real change of heart. But, alas ! 
 
 
28 
 
 THE MILITARY BLACKSMITH. 
 
 Marion had never for one moment stood alone. Her 
 parents' looks of approving delight ever followed her 
 when she evinced the smallest pleasure in religion ; 
 and their watchful anxietj, together with her retired 
 situation, defended her from danger. Far different 
 had been Sally's fate ; she was a friendless orphan. 
 She had been sent to school to learn to read and sew, 
 and there she also learned to know and serve her 
 God. With tears of joy she found that God declares 
 himself to be the orphan's stay, that they may look 
 to Him and say, " When father and mother forsake 
 me, then the Lord wiU take me up." Xfeis hope had 
 supported her in every trial, and defended her in 
 every danger. She could now say, "I will fear no 
 evil. Though I pass through the waters, He will bo 
 with me, and through the rivers, they shall not over- 
 flow me ; for the Lord my God, the Holy One of 
 Israel, is my Saviour." 
 
 After the last evening of gaiety, Mrs Somcrville 
 was for some time confined to the house by a slight 
 indisposition, and all below stairs went on more 
 quietly and regularly. 
 
 One Sunday, Nancy and Marion were joined, 
 on their way home from church, by James and the 
 General's two servants. Marion was so agreeably 
 entertained, that she entirely forgot that it was the 
 Sabbath, and joined in aU the foolish laugliing and 
 talking that went on. The strangers came in^ and 
 reiaaiaed to tea. SaUy was then obliged to be pre- 
 
THE MILITARY BLACKSMITH. 
 
 29 
 
 alone. Her 
 followed her 
 in religion ; 
 her retired 
 ar different 
 ess orphan, 
 ad and sew, 
 I serve her 
 rod declares 
 y may look 
 her forsake 
 is hope had 
 ded her in 
 vill fear no 
 He wdll be 
 li not over- 
 ly One of 
 
 Somcrville 
 
 by a slight 
 
 on more 
 
 re joined, 
 es and the 
 agreeably 
 it was the 
 gliing and 
 le in, and 
 to be pre- 
 
 sent ; and during her stay, there was rather more 
 quiet and decency, but, as soon as she left them, 
 they began to laugh at her ; and one of the men 
 offered to show the company her Sunday manner. 
 Marion saw that she was still ^«//*suspected of favour- 
 ing Sally's opinions ; and to prove that this was not 
 the case, she laughed at all their jokes, and remained 
 with them the whole evening. She went to bed 
 without having offered up one prayer for mercy to 
 tliat God who has said, thou shalt "keep the 
 Sabbath-day holy." 
 
 The following morning, Sally determined to make 
 one more effort to save this poor unsteady wanderer 
 from her present danger ; though her hopes of success 
 became daily fainter. The first time she found herself 
 alone with her, she said, " Marion, do you consider 
 what an express commandment we have in Scripture, 
 regarding the Sabbath ; and can you hope for the 
 blessing of God in your present way of going on ?" 
 
 Marion. " Why, Sally, I do no more than every 
 one else in this house, except yourself. I do not 
 mean to be so needlessly precise." 
 
 Sa%. " And what is your hope, then, my dear 
 girl ; do you believe the Bible ?" 
 
 Marion. " O yes, and I often read it. But every 
 one does not understand the Bible in the way you do. 
 There, Thomas says God is too good to wish anything 
 but the happiness of his creatures." 
 
 Sallt/. "And do you doubt that? But is this dia- 
 
 ,1 
 I 
 
 i i 
 
 Si 
 
 I 
 
80 
 
 THE MILITARY BLACKSMITH. 
 
 orderly way of going on, happiness? Marion, did 
 you not tell me that your father said he had never 
 known any real happiness till his heart was turned 
 to his God and Saviour? Besides that, every part of 
 the Bible represents us as born in sin, under the 
 present wrath and curse of God ? It is only those 
 who turn from their sins, and steadily endeavour to 
 walk in the narrow way that leadeth to life eternal, 
 that shaU be saved; so that even if all this folly did 
 give you happiness, which I rather think you will 
 confess it does not, what would be your advantage if 
 'you gained the whole world, and lost your own 
 soul?" 
 
 Marion. " But, Sally, never fear, I will not lose 
 my own soul. I am still very young, and thank 
 God, very stout. We shall be quiet during the sum- 
 mer in the country. I will do better then." 
 
 Salli/. « Have you kept any one of your resolutions 
 yet, my dear Marion?" 
 
 Marion. "No. But I have not made any very 
 firmly." ^ ^ 
 
 ^ally. « And never will, if you do not take care. 
 Every one, Marion, intends to do better ; but, alas ! 
 many are cut of before that time to do better arrives, 
 and are appointed theu* portion in heU, where the 
 worm dieth not for ever." 
 
 Marion. " Oh Sally, you frighten me, what must 
 I do ? I have often tried to do better." 
 
 i>ally, *' Come unto God by Christ ; pray earnestly 
 
i I 
 
 THE MUJTARY BLACKSMITH. 
 
 81 
 
 rion, did 
 ad never 
 8 turned 
 y part of 
 nder the 
 ily those 
 ivour to 
 I eternal, 
 folly did 
 ^ou will 
 mtage if 
 >ur own 
 
 not lose 
 i thank 
 lie sum- 
 
 olutions 
 
 ly very 
 
 ie care, 
 it, alas ! 
 arrives, 
 ere the 
 
 It must 
 
 imestly 
 
 <l! I 
 
 that He would enable you to repent of your sins, and 
 to break with all you present ways, — that He in mercy 
 would ' heal your backslidings, and love you freely.' 
 Continue steadily in the use of appointed means, till 
 you again read God's word, and pray, with the com- 
 Ibrt you did in your father's house. Avoid all your 
 present companions. Tell them that you dare no 
 longer go on as you have done. If you would do this, 
 Marion, I would very soon promise you a very dif- 
 ferent degree of happiness from any you have known 
 since you entered this house." 
 
 Marion. " Thomas goes away very soon, he would 
 laugh at me." 
 
 Sally. « Thomas ! What odds does he make to our 
 duty? If you have anything to do with that good- 
 ibr-nothing, your happiness is lost in this world and 
 the next." 
 
 Marion wept bitterly, but was ever too unsteady 
 in purpose to come to any determmation. Duiing 
 all this time, she did her work attentively— she 
 prided herself upon doing so ; and she heard so often, 
 and she desired so earnestly to believe, that the strict- 
 ness of religious principle in which she had been 
 brought up, and which she saw Sally steadily practise 
 m the midst of much temptation, was unnecessary, 
 that her conscience was bydegrees ^'illed to sleep; she 
 lived without prayer, and she felt ^aite cheerful and 
 happy under Sall/s disapproving looks, and bought 
 ber as dull and silent as her fellow-servants did. ° 
 
 fti 
 
32 
 
 THE MILITARY BLACKSMITH. 
 
 This last restraint was, however, soon to be re- 
 moved, — an unexpected situation offered for Sally. 
 During this time of trial she had "possessed her soul 
 in patience," and often looked up to God to bless and 
 sanctify it while it continued, and in his own good 
 time to remove it. That time waa come, all was 
 made easy, and her mistress permitted her to leave 
 
 between tenns. 
 
 After her departure, the ^.^rvants showed that they 
 had felt this poor despiped but virtuous girl a re- 
 straint. They were oftener out, and as often had 
 company at home. Mrs Somerville began to suspect 
 that all was not right. She wj*3 what is called a 
 good mistress,— she gave high wages,— she had 
 plenty of servants for the work she required to be 
 done, she desired them to go to church, and to be- 
 have themselves quietly ; but she was too indolent, 
 and too little under the consciousness of the deep re- 
 sponsibility that beioEgs to the heads of families in the 
 sight of God, to give herself much trouble in seeing 
 whether her orders were obeyed or not : but when 
 suspicion was once awakened in her mind, it did not 
 easily die away again. 
 
 Mrs Somerville rang her bell one evening for 
 Nancy, — no one answered ; so after ringing again, 
 she went down to the kitchen, where she found only 
 the old cook. From her she learned that Nancy and 
 
 J.TXCU. i Vii TT ■ux V 
 
 nn* of « flanop. orivftTi bv General Dun- I 
 
 das's servants. Having obtained this information 
 
TIIE MILITARY BLACKSMITH. 
 
 as 
 
 to be re- 
 fer Sally, 
 i her soul 
 bless and 
 )vm good 
 !, all was 
 : to leave 
 
 : that they 
 girl a re- 
 often had 
 to suspect 
 ) called a 
 -she had 
 ired to be 
 ind to be- 
 indolent, 
 e deep re- 
 ilies in the 
 } in seeing 
 but when 
 , it did not 
 
 rening for 
 ring again, 
 found only 
 Nancy and 
 leral Dun- 
 nformation 
 
 wdth some difficulty from the old woman, she desired 
 her not to say that she had told her any thing of the 
 matter, — an order whica the alarming charge of tell- 
 tale made the cook implicitly obey. 
 
 While undressing, Mi\s Somerville asked Nancy 
 where Marion and she had been, for that she had 
 rang twice without being answered. 
 
 Nancy, " Oh, my Lady, I am sorry for that ; I 
 heard that my poor dear father was ill, and just went 
 over to see him." 
 
 Mrs. S. " And how is he now ? " 
 
 Nancy. "Better, thank you, but very weakly yet." 
 
 Mrs S. " And whydid you take Marion with you ?" 
 
 Nancy. " Because my father is fond of her, and 
 she has a tender way about him ; but we were out 
 only a very short time, and I am so vexed you should 
 have wanted us." 
 
 Mrs Somerville said no more: and Nancy no 
 nooner left her than she told Marion what had passed, 
 and begged her (if asked) not to say any thing of 
 where they had been, adding that nothing could be 
 shabbier than a tell-tale. Marion agreed to what 
 was asked of her. Biit her father had often shown 
 her in Scripture, the many severe judgments de- 
 nounced against liars, — ^that they shall have their 
 portion assigned to them in the lake of fire and 
 brimstone. She felt frightened for a moment, and 
 hoped that her mistress would not ask her any 
 questions. 
 
 c 
 
 N 
 
 
 ^1 
 
34 
 
 THE MILITARY BLACKSMIXn. 
 
 The next morning Mrs Somerville met Marion on 
 the stairs, and calling her into the drawing-room, 
 asked her where she had been the evening before 
 with Nancy. 
 
 Marion. " Last night, Madam? Oh I we were but 
 a very short time out ; I was quite vexed when I 
 heard you had wanted Nancy." 
 
 Mrs S. " But I inquired where you were, and how 
 long you were out ? " 
 
 Marion. " Nancy told me her father was ill." 
 MrsS. "Wero you there?" 
 Marion. " We called there." 
 Mrs S. " Were you no where else ?" 
 Marion, (In a very low voice.) " No, Ma'am.' 
 Mrs Somerville saw plainly that Marion was not 
 telling her the truth ; but her indolent temper, or her 
 good temper, as she would have called it, that could 
 not bear to give others pain, prevented her from 
 saying any more, or from making any attempt to con- 
 vince Marion of the sin she was committing, and 
 which a little reflection upon the different manner in 
 which the two maids had answered, might have 
 showed her was not the first of many offences of the 
 same kind on the part of Nancy, while Marion had 
 still to overcome the scruples and good habits im- 
 planted with much care by a tender and pious parent, 
 and which he valued for his child more than any 
 earthlv good, Mrs Somerville saved herself all tlie 
 pain these reflections might have given her; and. 
 
THE MILITARY BLACKSMITH. 
 
 85 
 
 without one thov.giit of that eternity to which botli 
 herself and her servants were hastening, she deter- 
 mined to part with Nancy and Marion at next term. 
 Marion, on her part, was quite happy to have got 
 off" 80 well, and spent the evening in more than usual 
 merriment. Her conscience had almost ceased to 
 trouble her, and its still small voice was now easily 
 drowned by the novelty of some new amusement. 
 
86 THE MILITABT BLACKSMITH. 
 
 PART m. 
 
 •* When pining sickness wastes the franaft, 
 Acute disease and weak'ning pain ; 
 When life fast spends her feeble flame, 
 And all the help of man is vain ; 
 Joyless and dark all things appear, 
 Languid the spirits, weak the flesh ; 
 Med'cines can't ease, nor cordials cheer, 
 Nor food support, nor sleep refresh. 
 O ! then to have recourse to God, 
 To pray to Him in time of need ; 
 To feel the balm of Jesus' blood, 
 This is to find a friend indeed." • 
 
 I to very day after the ciTcumstances we have men- 
 tioned, Marion was taken ill. After a feverish and 
 sleepless night, she tried to rise in the morning, but 
 was obliged to return to bed. A very severe cold 
 succeeded, and she was for several days unable to do 
 her work. Nancy said nothing of her illness to 
 Mrs Somerville, lest she should make too minute in- 
 quiries about how she had caught it, and find out 
 that she had been wet to the skin, in returning 
 from the dance given by General Dundas's servants! 
 Mrs Somerville was satisfied with what was told 
 her. Provided the servants did their work among 
 themselves, she did not much care by whom it waa 
 done. She was therefore greatly shocked the first 
 time she met Marion, to see her look so ill, and 
 kindly inauired what w^a thp. rr\o.**nv -gl"!*v. i.=. 
 
 ••»»V iiXttVlti 
 
 TTXbU iiCX'. 
 
THE MILITARY BLACKSMITH. 
 
 87 
 
 Lve men- 
 
 rish and 
 
 ling, but 
 
 ere cold 
 
 ble to do 
 
 Iness to 
 
 nute in- 
 
 find out 
 
 Jturning 
 
 ervants. 
 
 vas told 
 
 among 
 
 I it was 
 
 the first 
 
 iU, and 
 Ai, 1 
 
 Marion with tears in her eyes, told her all she felt, 
 and of her extreme weakness. 
 
 Mrs Somerville became alarmed, and sent for 
 medical aid. The doctor, after trying various 
 remedies to reduce her cough, at last told Mrs Somer- 
 vile that the poor girl could not live unless she was 
 instantly removed to a better climate, and taken the 
 greatest care of. 
 
 Mrs Somerville intended returning to Elmly Park, 
 her country residence, with her family, as soon as 
 the season invited such a change ; but, as that would 
 not be for some weeks yet, she wrote to Duncan 
 M'Donald, without saying any thing to his daughter, 
 telling him how ill she was, and requesting to know 
 what he wished done. 
 
 The day on which Duncan received this letter, he 
 came to my house, to beg that during his absence, I 
 would undertake the distribution of the books belong- 
 ing to a library, formed by subscription in his parish. 
 After my willingly agreeing to his wishes, he told 
 me of the illness of his daughter, and that he was 
 going to fetch her home instantly. I felt truly inter- 
 ested in my friend's anxiety ; and after that often 
 saw him in his own house, and learned all the pai-- 
 ticulars here related regarding his daughter Marion. 
 The next morning Duncan set out, and walked to 
 Edinburgh, with no other assistance than the oc- 
 casional seat upon a cart, that was offered him by 
 those who felt for a wounded soldier. 
 
38 
 
 THE MILITARY BLACKSMITH. 
 
 1 ■ 
 
 The unexpected arrival of her father was too 
 much for Marion. She buried her face in her apron, 
 and could only answer his affectionate inquiries by 
 sobs and tears. The very sight of him changed her 
 view of many things, and she felt she was not the 
 Marion he had parted with only eight short months 
 ago. Duncan also felt this meeting with his child 
 overpower him. She seemed very ill : to that he 
 imputed her present agitation; and he became 
 alarmed for her health, and very impatient to 
 take her home. Anxious as he was to hurry their 
 departure, he had time to see that religion did not 
 govern the hearts or conduct of his dear Marion's 
 fellow-servants : and fears that he might find her 
 principles injured, were soon added to those her 
 health excited. He, however, said nothing ; he only 
 watched every word and every look of his child. 
 
 The removal was performed with more ease to 
 Marion than her father expected, and his hopes re- 
 vived. During the journey, they were prevented, 
 by the presence of then- fellow-traveller-' in the mail, 
 from holding much conversation. Duncan even 
 thought his daughter avoided it; but the remark 
 g-ave him no anxiety, for he was soon to see her again 
 with her mother under the roof where she had been 
 brought up, and where the openness of mutual con- 
 fidence and afi'ection reigned, and sweetened all their 
 intercourse with each other. 
 
THE MILITARY BLACKSMITH. 
 
 39 
 
 r was too 
 her apron, 
 iquiries by 
 langed her 
 as not the 
 Tt months 
 li his child 
 to that he 
 le became 
 patient to 
 luny their 
 >n did not 
 • Marion's 
 k find her 
 those her 
 I ; he only 
 child, 
 'e ease to 
 hopes re- 
 Drevented, 
 I the mail, 
 can even 
 le remark 
 her again 
 had been 
 jtual con- 
 d all their 
 
 it agitated 
 
 the hearts of this little family, when Duncan opened 
 the door for Marion, and the fond mother pressed 
 her sick and altered child to her heart ; nor on what 
 that child felt at again finding herself in her 
 mother's arms, and surrounded by her brothers and 
 sisters. 
 
 In a short time both parties became more com- 
 posed, and entered into many details of what had 
 passed. The children, and even the mother, were 
 eager to relate every event and every change that had 
 taken place in the parish. Duncan again thought 
 Manon feared and evaded some of the questions 
 which her mother and sisters put to her regarding 
 what they did at the fine house, and what kind of 
 people she had seen in Edinburgh. 
 
 The evening was now far advanced, and it was 
 the hour of prayer. Marion could not again witness 
 this solemn and rational way of closing the evening 
 without much emotion. When her father thanked 
 God for their safe return, and prayed for her re- 
 covery, she trembled, wept, and nearly fainted. The 
 whole family were alarmed at her agitation, and 
 considering it as an indication of bodily weakness, 
 she was put to bed instantly. But Duncan's fears 
 were confirmed : and he determined to take the first 
 opportunity to convince himself whether they were 
 just or not. 
 
 The next day, however. Marion wha ver^ iU • the 
 ferer and cough returned with redoubled violenc"e^ 
 
40 
 
 THE MILITARY BLACKSMITH. 
 
 and all the symptoms of returning health and 
 strength, that had given hope to her parents, dis 
 appeared. She became restless, fretful, and uneasy. 
 Every means in their power to soothe and give her 
 relief, the various members of this affectionate 
 family employed with unwearied assiduity. They 
 read to her. Her father knelt by her bed-side, and 
 poured out his supplications to God for her. His 
 ownburthened heart found relief in this employment; 
 but her averted eye, and anxious countenance, 
 showed she did not feel that comfort flow from it, 
 which he prayed might be imparted to her soul by a 
 God of mercy and love. 
 
 One day he said to her, after having prayed with 
 her, " Marion, my child, you seem very uneasy : is 
 it only your body that suffers? Is your mind at ease? " 
 Marion. " Oh ! my body suffers much indeed." 
 Duncan. "But is it only your body? Can you 
 look up with hope to Him who has thus afflicted you ? 
 Can you hope that you shaU be enabled to say, ' It 
 was good for me to be afflicted ; for before I was 
 afflicted I went astray, but afterwards I kept thy 
 law?*" 
 
 Marion. " ! I have indeed gone astray. I have 
 
 no hope." 
 
 Duncan. "No hope! my child, what do you mean?" 
 Marion. " T cannot pray, father, I cannot join 
 
 in your prayers. In what can I hope ? " 
 
 Duncan. " In the Lord Jesus Christ, who died 
 
 , 
 
rUE MILITARY BLACKSMITH. 
 
 41 
 
 ealth and 
 rents, dis 
 tid uneasy. 
 I give her 
 ffectionate 
 ty. They 
 l-side, and 
 her. His 
 ployment; 
 mtenance, 
 ¥ from it, 
 ' soul by a 
 
 ayed with 
 ineasy: is 
 i at ease?" 
 ideed." 
 
 Can you 
 cted you ? 
 say, *It 
 )re I was 
 
 kept thy 
 
 I have 
 
 >u mean?" 
 nnot join 
 
 who died 
 
 for you. and who has said, 'Though your sins are as 
 scarlet, they shall be made white as wool.' " 
 
 Manon. «I once loved these words, but now I 
 do not feel them. You know not how often I have 
 put away all thoughts of God from me. Now He 
 has forsaken me ! " 
 
 Duncan. « My dear Marion, do not speak in this 
 way. God 'will heal your backslidings, and love 
 you freely.' Put your trust in that promise." 
 
 3Ianon. "I cannot; when I try to pray, the 
 heavens are brass, and my heart is bard as iron." 
 
 Duncan. "Tell me what weighs upon your 
 conscience. Tell your father all the sorrows of your 
 • heart ; you know how much he loves you." 
 
 Marion, with considerable reluctance, told her 
 father her history since she had quitted home. 
 When she had done, she seemed much exhausted, 
 and seeing her father about to replv, she added, 
 qmckiT/, "I know you will tell me there' is mercy with 
 God for the very chief of sinners. But there is no 
 mercy for one who day after day knew she was 
 sinning against his holy laws, and feeling aU the 
 reproaches of her conscience, still did go on day 
 after day growing worse, tiU even conscience ceased 
 to speak." 
 
 Duncan. "Yes, my child, even for such a one 
 there is free mercy. God has excluded none. He 
 says, 'Look unto me, and be ye saved,. all ends of 
 the earth.' * Hearken unto me, ye stout-hearted, 
 
42 
 
 THE MILITARY BLACKSMITH. 
 
 /■ 
 
 that are far from righteousness ; I bring near my 
 nghteousness ; it shaU not be far off, and my salva- 
 tion shall not tarry/ Do not then, when tlie offers 
 ot God are so free, exclude yourself. Only, from 
 this experience of the depravity of your heart, prize 
 more deeply that pardon and mercy that is offered 
 you in Chnst Jesus. His mercies fail not." 
 
 Marion. (Pressing her father's hand to her heart.) 
 " I sometimes think, that when I get stronger I will 
 try and do better. But now I cannot think without 
 pam, my head grows giddy. Oh ! I have too much 
 to do for one so ill." 
 
 Duncan. (Kissing the burning forehead of his 
 child.) " And even in health you could not do one 
 jot or tittle of the work ; only keep in the faithful 
 jse of appointed means, and Christ wiU do aU for 
 you. Those that wait upon the Lord shall renew 
 their strength." 
 
 An expression of so much pain passed over 
 Marion's countenance during the last part of her 
 father's speech, that he stopped, and remained in 
 perfect silence by her. Self-reproach fiUed his 
 heart, for having allowed her to go to a scene of so 
 much temptation. 
 
 Marion daily grew worse. Mrs SomerviUe re- 
 turned to Elmly Park. She sent to inquire how she 
 was, the day after her arrival. From the answer 
 she received, she was alarmed, and went over the next 
 tlav to see bpr WT./i« Ti/r«« «j mi. . , . 
 
J near my 
 my salva- 
 i the offers 
 )nly, from 
 eart, prize 
 is offered 
 
 »» 
 
 ler heart.) 
 iger I will 
 k without 
 too much 
 
 id of his 
 Dt do one 
 le faithful 
 3o all for 
 all renew 
 
 led over 
 *t of her 
 ained in 
 illed his 
 ene of so 
 
 •ville re- 
 how she 
 answer 
 the next 
 Bred the 
 
 THE MILITAKY BLACKSMITH. 43 
 
 cottage, Marion had fallen into a broken and di« 
 turbed sleep. The family were speaki^gT^^^^^^^^ 
 Poor Dm.can told her how vexy iU hislughter wat 
 and by degrees mentioned all he yet knew of 1? 
 history of her mind. Mrs Somer^le went She 
 felt how little she had done her dutv fr*?* 
 vouns- OTrl Ti,« • . T . ^ *° *"^s poor 
 
 young girl. The immortal interests of those in her 
 
 house had never before been felt us her duty She 
 desired they should go to church on SundL and 
 not be out without leave ; but tiH that momenWhen 
 she witnessed the changing countenance of the fisher 
 and the bitter tears of the mother, over the ruTned 
 comfort of their eldest child-tiU sLe saw the looks 
 
 h r^ratr^^^^^^^^^^^ ^*' -^^^^ ''^y ^-1 upt 
 
 ner cieath-like countenance as she lay asleen — L^ 
 
 Mked for dnnfc. Her mother brought it to her- but 
 when she raised herself in bed to (nt»V. j 
 Mrs SomerviUe, she sunt Lt J"d ct r 'd ^r hTa^ 
 with the bed-elothes. Her mother said, " My t^ 
 Marion .t .s the lady come to inquire for yon Z 
 ■s Te.7 land." Marion exclaimed, « Oh that I had 
 never seen her! Her house has be;n myrufn." 
 
 her^:a^""1^"^ '""' t^ ""^'^'-*^^ -»' *» 
 ner neart. bhe rose quicklv and l«ft ♦i,^ i.l-. ^ , 
 
 in<! that the blood of this offendingsuff;;er wi" u^:;" 
 
44 
 
 THE MILITARY BLACKSMITII. 
 
 her head, and would deservedly cry for vengeance ; 
 for though " it must needs be that offences come, 
 woe unto them by whom they come." IVIrs Soraer- 
 ville sent every thing that she fancied could be a 
 comfort to this poor family ; but in doing so, she 
 felt, for the first time, in its full force, how litile 
 supplying the wants of the poor perishing body can 
 atone for the injury done to the immortal soul. 
 
 Marion daily grew weaker, though she never 
 seemed to apprehend that her illness might end 
 fatally; on the contrary, she often spoke of the 
 future. She at times seemed happier in mind, and 
 said, that she hoped, when she was better, that she 
 would >)e more steady; for that nothing short of 
 that could be any evidence to herself that she was 
 in earnest in her desire to serve God. 
 
 Duncan, " My dear child, do not make your 
 own terms, but come simply to God, relying on his 
 promises of mercy to you in Christ." 
 
 Marion. " I would sometimes like to do so, but 
 then I feel that I cannot now make any better resolu 
 tions than I often did before I left you. Oh ! if you 
 could have seen my heart the last evening I was 
 with you, when you, father, spoke so seriously to me, 
 and prayed with me, you would see it is not to be 
 trusted, — that I cannot count upon myself till I am 
 tried." 
 
 Duncan. " I well know what you feel, an^ also 
 that your heart is not to be depended on ; and I 
 
 
THE MILITARY BLACKSMITH, 
 
 45 
 
 ageance j 
 les come, 
 3 Somer- 
 uld be a 
 ; so, she 
 ow litilo 
 3ody can 
 )ul. 
 
 le never 
 Ight end 
 3 of the 
 lind, and 
 that she 
 short of 
 she was 
 
 ,ke your 
 g on his 
 
 so, but 
 r resolu 
 i! if you 
 g I was 
 iy to me, 
 lot to be 
 till I am 
 
 and also 
 : and I 
 
 trust, Marion, that if God in mercy should spare ymir 
 life, you wiU „d more humble, more watchful, from 
 what has passed." 
 
 A slight paleness, succeeded by a deep hectic 
 flush, passed over Marion'^ emaciated countenance 
 during this speech; and she repeated, "If God 
 should spare my life !— I am not so ill." 
 
 Duncan. "You are very iU, my child ; but God 
 s all-powerful." 
 Marion. " Does the doctor say I am in danger? " 
 Duncan. " He says your cough is very bad." 
 These words were uttered by Duncan with much 
 suppressed emotion. Marion uttered a faint scream, 
 and sunk on her pillow with a look of horror. Her 
 mother came to her relief, and her unhappy father 
 withdrew. The doctor had told him, some days 
 before, that his daughter's danger was so very great, 
 that he entertained no hope of her recovery, and that 
 he expected her death to be sudden, and probably 
 soon.-^ Deeply as he felt for her, and painful as the 
 idea of parting with his dear child was to his own 
 heart,— the idea of her immortal soul,— the state of 
 uncertainty he was in regarding its safety,— and the 
 sanguine hopes she often expressed of her speedy re- 
 covery,— made him feel it his positive duty to inform 
 her of her real situation. The pain it cost him, may 
 be conceived by those who have been called to per- 
 form the like painful duty, but cannot be described. 
 Marion continued much ajjitated, but spoke little. 
 
46 
 
 TUE MILITARY BLACKSMITH. 
 
 1^ 
 
 She spent a sleepless night; and caUing her father 
 to her about sunrise, she begged him to " pray for 
 her, as she could not for herself." 
 
 Duncan. " I pray for you day and night, my 
 dear child. See if yo i can find one text in Scrip- 
 ture that deprives yoa of hope. Think of the thief 
 on the cross." 
 
 Marion, " He did not know the truth, and then 
 act against it." 
 
 Duncan. "Think of St Paul. He was a per- 
 secutor, a blasphemer." 
 
 Marion. " He did it ignorantly." * 
 
 Duncan. " Then think of the many promises with 
 which the Bible abounds. * Before they cry, I will 
 answer them.' ' I am found of them that sought me 
 not.' Think how often, when the children of Israel 
 forsook God, and worshipped and served idols, He 
 gave them up into the hands of their enemies, as He 
 has given you up to this illness ; but as soon as they 
 sought the Lord, even while they were yet speaking, 
 He answered them in mercy." 
 
 Marion raised herself in bed, and clasping her 
 hands together, exclaimed earnestly, " Oh God ! if 
 Thou canst have mercy on a guilty" 
 
 She sunk into her father's arms, and after a few 
 moments' struggle expired. 
 
 Amidst the extreme agitation that this sudden 
 event occasioned among the inhabitants of the cot- 
 tage, Duncan M'Donald alone uttered not one word. 
 
THE MILITAUY RLACKSMITII. 
 
 47 
 
 her father 
 " pray lor 
 
 night, my 
 
 in Scrip- 
 
 f the thief 
 
 .f and then 
 
 ras a per- 
 
 mises with 
 cry, I will 
 sought me 
 p. of Israel 
 I idols, He 
 lies, as He 
 •on as they 
 u speaking, 
 
 isping her I 
 h God! if 
 
 fter a few 
 
 He was " still, and remembered that it was God." 
 In a short time, he knelt down by his dead Marion, 
 and, in feeble and broken accents, prayed for sub- 
 mission and support to ♦hen all. 
 
 I need add no more. Duncan and his family ex- 
 perienced the faithfulness of God. He has said to 
 his own people, "I will never leave you, nor forsake 
 you." The everlasting arms were underneath them, 
 " and all did work together for their good." 
 
 But, Oh that the young would take warning!— 
 that they would remember it is only the "fool that 
 makes a mock at sin ! "—that we must " aU stand at 
 the judgment-scat of Christ, every man to be judrred 
 according to his works, whether they be good°or 
 
 ^rV"T''"'^ *^'^' " ^° '"^^ ^" ^«"^ «^ ye think not 
 ot, the Son of Man cometh ' " 
 
 THE END. 
 
 lis sudden 
 f the cot- 
 one word. 
 
 UDRBAT AND GIBB, PRINTERS, BPINBUBOH.