UCSB LIBRARY 
 X- 
 
 HE RETROSPECT. 
 
 AN IDYL OF OTHER YEARS. 
 
 In itbtn liooks. 
 
 ' 'T is greatly wise to talk with our past hours, 
 And ask them what report they bore to heaven." Yocxu. 
 
 ' Enough, if something from our hands have power 
 To live, and act, and serve the present hour; 
 And if, as toward the silent tomb we go, 
 Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower, 
 We feel that we are greater than we know." WORDSWORTH. 
 
 LONDON: 
 JOHN F. SHAW AND CO., 
 
 48, PATERNOSTER ROW, K.C.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 that beautiful and most consolatory and 
 encouraging work, TJie Ticilujht of Life, by 
 the Rev. John Ellerton, rector of White 
 Fioo.thing, the author exquisitely says : " Old 
 age takes its complexion from the past life ; 
 and the infirmities common to all who grow 
 old are lightened or intensified by the preparation for 
 encountering them which belong to the character and 
 the discipline of each one. For if old age takes its 
 colour from the past, it takes its light from the future. 
 It is the transition from this life to the next ; from 
 the passing to the abiding; from trouble to rest; from 
 the responsibilities of life to the great account ; and, to 
 those who ' therein abide with God,' from the half- 
 fulfilled service, the broken intercourse, the many 
 separations of earth, to the perfect service, the 
 completed union, the unbroken fellowships, of the 
 life of the world to come. As such we will try to 
 look at it. And seeing it from this point of view, we 
 shall discern in many of the special characteristics of 
 old age signs of our Father's love, and foreshadowings 
 of its fuller manifestation hereafter. 
 
 " One of the delights of our declining years is (as has 
 often been pointed out) the rekindling, under a new
 
 iv PREFACE. 
 
 aspect, of the interests of youth. In one sense a man 
 may have passed the time of his best work, at least of 
 his hardest ; he may have ceased to produce much ; 
 he may have formed his own conclusions, reached 
 the summit of his powers, developed his permanent 
 character; but the time has not yet come for those 
 powers to decay ; he can take stock of his work ; he 
 can see its relation to all which he inherited, and to all 
 which is succeeding him. He is, in short, just at the 
 right moment of life for impressing himself most 
 deeply and permanently upon his surroundings, even 
 if these be but a small circle of family or friends. 
 What he has to say will never so well deserve to be 
 listened to. His judgment ought to be at once clear 
 with the insight of a mind still able to work vigorously, 
 and ripe with the mellowness of experience. Genius 
 may be at its best in the fire of youth ; wisdom finds 
 its harvest in the autumn of life." 
 
 Much of the following poem was written in a 
 fragmentary manner many years ago. Only latterly 
 lias the author been induced to give it the form in 
 which it is now offered to the public. Several other 
 fragments which might have formed part of the 
 narrative, and perhaps have made an additional book, 
 following the sixth, have for various reasons been 
 excluded. The author can only add that the work, 
 with all its deficiencies and imperfections, most truly 
 reflects his deepest convictions, and his brightest 
 hopes. 
 
 February, 1S91.
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 RECOLLECTIONS of Days Long Ago Birthplace Neighbour- 
 hood The River Field Walks Happiness of Childhood 
 Object of the Poem Narrative, and the Lessons it may 
 Teach Childish Illusions Our Home The Garden 
 Shrubberies Summer-house The Old Meeting-house 
 My Father The Pastor and his Congregation My Mother 
 People of the Town Spinning- wheels Rural Life 
 The Love of it Imbibed and Retained First Teaching 
 Parental Care All are Children in the Highest Knowledge 
 Definite Teaching Vindicated " DOGMA " and " MODERN 
 THOUGHT " EVOLUTION Modern Teaching Youthful 
 Happiness not Unmingled Summer Days Rambles 
 Visits Farmhouses The Labourer's Lot The Clergy, 
 then and now Keddington The Water-mill The Old 
 Church Famous Preachers there Fairclough Tillotson 
 The Manor House The Barnardistons Pleasing Reminis- 
 cences Love of Nature.
 
 I. 
 DAY DAWN. 
 
 " To muse and brood, and live in memory 
 With those old faces of his infancy." 
 
 .F " Auld Lang Syne " I sing, of days and years 
 Long past and spent and never to return. 
 Days which my memory keeps green and fresh, 
 And over which love sheds its halo light. 
 I still am young in heart, though hoary hairs 
 And thinning locks mark my advancing age. 
 The things the heart loves best can never die 
 If but the heart be guileless in its love, 
 And if the love be pure and true and good. 
 Much has this wearied heart been rent and torn 
 With griefs not common, and the spirit bowed 
 'Neath burdens almost crushing in their load, 
 Yet life and love and blessing w r ere in all ; 
 And the review befits an humble mind 
 Which would a Father's hand-work here survey, 
 Acknowledging that wise and right and good 
 Were all the appointments of His sovereign will ; 
 For cloud and storm and pain and weariness
 
 8 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Were but the methods chosen of His love 
 To work in me whatever should be best. 
 Therefore I tell the story of my life 
 In the low notes of this sad RETROSPECT. 
 
 Where Suffolk uplands join with Essex meads, 
 And Stour begins to thread his devious way. 
 A village street across the county bound 
 Its straggling course extends, remote, obscure. 
 The southmost county has the smaller share, 
 A hamlet only, and to fame unknown ; 
 Most quiet, and most rural is it too. 
 But here the stately Manor-house is seen, 
 With ample space of lawn and garden ground. 
 Here whitewashed, low-roofed cottages appear, 
 With one or two abodes of higher grade ; 
 While up a sidewalk, leading to the fields, 
 The humble meeting-house retires from view. 
 The Pastor's dwelling, backward from the street, 
 A modest tenement of lowly mien, 
 Amidst its smiling trees and shrubs lies hid. 
 It was a sheltered, comfortable home, 
 For village pastor suitable enough. 
 The former occupant, with means and taste, 
 Had made it quite a little paradise. 
 So thought my mother, when she saw it first ; 
 And there, at length, I drew my native air. 
 
 Around were fertile fields and upland farms, 
 Old moated manor-houses, now no more 
 Tenanted as of yore by yeomanry, 
 But held on lease by farmers of the land ; 
 And ample homesteads lay beside them all.
 
 DA Y DA WN. 
 
 The leafy woodlands near, for game preserved, 
 
 Afforded sport for rollicking esquires ; 
 
 And rural winding lanes, oft deep in mud, 
 
 Or with deep ruts, which heavy-laden wains 
 
 Had carved in the thick soil, caused the poor horse 
 
 To plunge in winter quite above his knee 
 
 In the same soil, which summer heat oft made 
 
 Both dry and rugged, wearisome at best. 
 
 The scattered villages on every hand 
 
 Had little to attract, save here and there 
 
 *An ancient tower or spire of parish church, 
 
 Sombrely peeping o'er the tufted trees ; 
 
 Or battlemented wall of what was once 
 
 Baronial hall or castle, or perchance 
 
 Some portion of a monkish chapelry ; 
 
 Yet here and there tradition pointed out 
 
 Some noble life had left its memory, 
 
 Or some memorial was extant found 
 
 Of some great name, or record of some deed 
 
 Worthy to be remembered through all time. 
 
 The " river," as we termed it, ran below, 
 And but a bowshot from our garden bound. 
 'T was but a brook, a tributary stream, 
 Which at the neighbouring mere discharged itself 
 Into the Stour, whose winding silver wave 
 Between the Suffolk and the Essex shores 
 Pursues its devious way unto the sea. 
 Our " river " had in days e'en more remote 
 Become denied by turbid rivulets, 
 Which from the dyer's yards and tanpits near 
 Found egress there, and so were borne away.
 
 lo THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 A footbridge crossed this stream where ran a path 
 That past our garden gate went o'er the hill, 
 By which our northward view was close shut in. 
 How many a time our footsteps traced that path, 
 And visited with joy the water-mill, 
 And grey old church beyond, and ruined hall, 
 And glorious avenue of limes, which led 
 In noble vista from the churchyard gate, 
 In distance long drawn out, to village street. 
 
 Bright were the early days of childhood's hope. 
 Oh, who would dim the vision of a child ? 
 The bright glamour of youth's inquiring gaze ? 
 Naught is then known of life's vicissitudes, 
 Of work-day toil, and all the changes sad 
 Which bring distress and sorrow to man's heart. 
 How bright and long were then the summer hours 
 And even winter brought but pleasant change. 
 From scant materials the active mind 
 Wrought most fantastic images, and threw 
 A halo round the common things of life. 
 A meadow and a grove made paradise : 
 Low hills and shallow vales romantic seemed : 
 And Scripture hist'ry, read with eagerness, 
 Took form and action from the scenes around. 
 Here was Jerusalem, Bethany there : 
 In yonder pastures David fed his sheep ; 
 While Jordan was the " river " that we knew. 
 Scorn not, good Doctor Erudite, these lines 
 Which simply tell the simple child's ideas. 
 They gave the child unbounded happiness, 
 Spending his early years amid these dreams. 
 What better things of earth have riper years
 
 DAY DAWN. ii 
 
 Given him in exchange ? the dreams have fled, 
 The dull and cold reality has come ; 
 Vanity and vexation all the gain ! 
 
 The tale need not be told to other ears ; 
 Yet other some may sympathise therewith, 
 Or with the unknown writer of these lines. 
 And some perchance may gain some help thereby, 
 Some lifting up in days of weariness, 
 And spirit fainting ; or a vacant hour 
 May find amusement, with some profit fraught. 
 Howe'er it be, as critics frown or smile, 
 I write to ease my own poor suffering heart. 
 Sunshine and cloud have chequered all my path ; 
 And if more often have the clouds hung o'er, 
 The sunshine has been brighter for the gloom. 
 " Fountains of tears " mine eyes have often been, 
 When pent up griefs would no more be controlled. 
 But nights of weeping passed, and daylight came ; 
 And with the daydawn came returning joy. 
 Such is, in brief, the tale I here recite, 
 Some may despise it as an oft-told tale ; 
 Others may read to learn the common lot, 
 Marked by uncommon mercy in it all. 
 So has it been : and if the vale of tears 
 Has shadowed over been by Death's dark wing 
 Horrors behind, and fears on every side 
 Still has the light beyond, though dimly seen, 
 Cheered the despairing soul, and hope returned. 
 Oft, like a wandering sheep, I went astray : 
 As often, sovereign mercy brought me back, 
 And led me in the paths of truth and peace. 
 Xot always rugged and through tracks of gloom
 
 12 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 And weariness has lain my upward way : 
 Rest and repose my fainting soul has found 
 Where pastures green invitingly were spread, 
 And limpid living streams flowed gently by. 
 Such is the mystery of man's mortal life ! 
 Such is the tangled web of human things ! 
 Such are the hidden ways of Providence ! 
 
 Like a long Midsummer's bright reverie, 
 Within a thick glade of o'erarching boughs, 
 Through which the chequered light falls fitfully 
 Amid the shadows, dancing with them there, 
 While forest depths surround with sweet repose : 
 Such was my childhood's life, remembered now. 
 'T was a delicious dream, from which awoke 
 One could not choose but wish to dream again. 
 And as in such Midsummer's charmed dream 
 Each sight is beauty, melody each sound, 
 So was it then : it was delightful dream, 
 Which, ever varying, was delightful still. 
 
 Our home, for home it was, " sweet home " indeed, 
 Might to the casual passer-by have seemed 
 Unworthy notice, but a common house, 
 Of small pretence, and comforts few indeed ; 
 But it was all to us a home should be. 
 Old-fashioned was the house, and with low roof, 
 And gable-ended on three sides ; whitewashed, 
 And well embowered in graceful climbing plants. 
 The pyracanthus spread its crimson fruit, 
 And vines displayed their tempting clusters there, 
 Purple and white ; while lowlier beneath 
 The rose its gorgeous blossoms proudly showed,
 
 DAY DAWN. 13 
 
 And honeysuckle shed its rich perfume 
 From out its wealth of golden tassels' gleam. 
 The garden's ample space gave varied joy ; 
 The greensward with its central fir tree held 
 The place of honour, and its corner beds 
 Were full of floral beauty, while beyond 
 The guelder-rose tree, at bright Whitsuntide, 
 Seemed a huge snow-wreath amid summer bloom. 
 How vast and varied looked those shrubberies ! 
 The child's eye has such magnifying power ! 
 What if to modern taste 't would seem so poor, 
 So mean and narrow ? It was- paradise 
 To the home-loving and uncultured child ; 
 And that is more than lordliest domains 
 Are often to their rich and cultured lords. 
 Keep your domains, and glory in your wealth, 
 Ye rich and noble ; but palatial halls 
 And large estates made to display the most 
 That wealth, and art, and science can effect 
 To make delightful, and abodes of bliss, 
 Cannot do half as much as the child's eye 
 When blest .with such a home as I describe. 
 
 Adown the side- walk, curving through the trees, 
 Where fir and poplar, mountain ash and yew, 
 With filbert trees and shrubs of various sorts, 
 Lilac, laburnum, sweet syringa, and 
 Along the border flowers of every hue 
 Were intermingled in a .mimic grove ; 
 The three-arched front appeared, and bright red roof 
 Of that dear summer-house. blest retreat ! 
 Close by the quiet meadow was it placed, 
 And by the orchard and the shrubberies
 
 I 4 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Divided from the house. A corner spot, 
 Well chosen for the site of such alcove. 
 Beside this summer-house a gateway arched, 
 And formed of wood with hawthorn covered o'er, 
 And one of three such arched entrances, 
 Led to the orchard, well embowered in trees. 
 There the tall pear-tree, with its neighbours near, 
 The russet apple, and the cherry tree, 
 Was rural Paradise in miniature. 
 Beside it ran my father's " favourite walk," 
 As he had named it, and it was well named ; 
 Bordered with hazels on the orchard side, 
 And on the other with a hedge of yew, 
 Which from the parson's meadow parted it. 
 At the far end a wooden garden-seat, 
 Beneath some tall trees' shade, afforded rest 
 When he was tired of pacing up and down 
 That chosen walk ; and there, hard by that seat, 
 Had made a young plantation, where before 
 Waste ground had been, that so more privately 
 He might his meditations calm pursue. 
 How glad was I when but a little boy 
 I found a black-cap's nest in that yew hedge. 
 Rich prize was it for me ; almost the first, 
 If not the first, I ever took. 
 Glad should I be to say it was the last, 
 For few such prizes do I wish to boast. 
 The nest replaced by wise paternal hand 
 Allayed the feathered songsters' bitter grief, 
 And they repaid it with their joyous songs. 
 The other way, straight to the garden gate, 
 There ran a path we called " the meeting walk ";
 
 DAY DAWN, 15 
 
 For out beyond that garden gate there stood 
 The sanctuary lowly, where were wont 
 To meet for worship humble worshippers, 
 Who loved the gospel message, and who sought 
 To worship God " in spirit and in truth," 
 According to His will. They too had had 
 Teachers well " apt to teach," and men of God, 
 Learned and eloquent, and full of zeal, 
 Of holy life and blameless character. 
 Their fathers had seceded long ago, 
 With multitudes whom tyrant bigotry 
 And harsh intolerant law had driven forth 
 Beyond the pale of the State-favoured Church 
 Within these realms, and who had meekly sought 
 Where with clear conscience, in the light of truth, 
 Dependent only on God's promised aid, 
 They might observe each gospel ordinance. 
 There did my father minister, and there 
 Did God the Holy Ghost His seal affix 
 To the full, clear, and faithful messages 
 Which by those lips He did deliver there. 
 
 My father, sacred name indeed to me ! 
 Can I describe him ? Eeverence and love 
 Would rather plead for silence. The attempt 
 Is fraught with peril, and it might dismay. 
 
 For could I paint him to the very life 
 Most readers would pronounce it void of truth. 
 Yet would I feebly sketch his portrait here, 
 And dimly indicate his character, 
 If I can do no more. The hand of truth 
 May be the hand of love and reverence. 
 Failings he had, no doubt, as who has not ?
 
 16 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 He was but mortal at the very best, 
 
 Mortal and sinful, as he deeply felt. 
 
 But he was one formed in no common mould, 
 
 As if of finer and of rarer clay ; 
 
 And as so formed filled with the noblest life. 
 
 Serene benignity his countenance 
 
 Displayed, and bright intelligence lit up 
 
 His features, finely chiselled as they were. 
 
 His manners were most kind and courteous, 
 
 For he was kind and generous to a fault, 
 
 A gentleman by nature as by birth, 
 
 If godliness and zeal for God's own truth 
 
 Be patent of a true nobility ; 
 
 Not a mere feudal title and estate 
 
 Derived at best from lawless freebooters 
 
 Who, with invading William, came across 
 
 From Normandy their title only might, 
 
 Not right, the sword and prowess all their claim. 
 
 The noble son of a most noble sire 
 
 Was he : in him his father lived again. 
 
 Which was the nobler it were hard to say ; 
 
 Each was most noble in all noble things. 
 
 Well cultured had he been in all the stores 
 
 Of learning found within his reach well trained ; 
 
 And on him, as on one of her best sous, 
 
 An ancient seat of learning had bestowed 
 
 Well-earned degrees well earned, and some unsought. 
 
 And when at length his consecrated powers 
 
 Were given to the service of his God 
 
 Full many churches sought his ministry, 
 
 Where might have shone, with fullest lustre 1 night , 
 
 Those talents he had been endowed withal,
 
 DAY DAWN. 17 
 
 But here appeared the mystery of his life, 
 
 Not on these candlesticks was placed his light. 
 
 Far other was his reading of himself. 
 
 And who shall judge him ? God alone is Judge. 
 
 Not on such heights as these he took his stand. 
 
 No city large, no sanctuary vast, 
 
 Obtained his services : in a remote 
 
 Obscure position did he take his place, 
 
 And to the most illiterate and poor 
 
 ])id he discourse about divinest themes. 
 
 And was it all in vain ? Life thrown away ? 
 
 So thought, and still think, some who knew him best. 
 
 His answer is the fruit of what he did. 
 
 But even if no fruit be found to give 
 
 Some recompense for penury and toil, 
 
 Yet his reward and highest recompense 
 
 Shall be the plaudit of the Lord Himself, 
 
 Whose faithful servant shall not want the word 
 
 "Well done!" though few the things wherein he served. 
 
 Fidelity lies not in serving much, 
 
 But in true service to the Master's will. 
 
 For whether it be less or more, to serve 
 
 With true obedience wins the Master's smile, 
 
 Who more regards the serving than the work. 
 
 Behold him there, in that same meeting-house; 
 How plain and simple all that you behold. 
 But it is thronged with earnest worshippers. 
 Behold the preacher ! Listen to his voice ; 
 Mark well his gestures ; note his earnestness ; 
 What dignity, solemnity, and zeal. 
 Heed thou his teaching ; his are words of light, 
 
 n
 
 1 8 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 But light with fire ; both light and fire from heaven. 
 What force, what sequence, what divine appeal ; 
 I )ai k truths made clear, and lofty themes made plain ; 
 The mind 's illumined, and the heart is touched, 
 The conscience wakened, and the spirit bowed. 
 
 Now see him leave the pulpit, when at length 
 The services are o'er, and the day done. 
 The people hang around him, watch his steps ; 
 The tears are in their eyes, they grasp his hand, 
 And many benedictions follow him. 
 And through the week he mindful is of them ; 
 Their cottages he brightens with his smile ; 
 The children love him, and they all revere. 
 The sick, the aged, and the dying bed, 
 Ever attends he, as a pastor should, 
 With watchful care, and wise and loving words, 
 With many prayers, both there and at his home. 
 Then " who art thou that judgest ?" His " well clone ; 
 Thou good and faithful servant," from his Lord, 
 Shall far outvalue all the world's applause. 
 
 How shall I speak of her whom next I name ? 
 The wife and mother ! My dear father's wife, 
 And my dear mother ! She was then but young, 
 And he not three years older. They were both 
 In early married life : their children were 
 All young, and most were little : two were brought 
 When they came hither : one sweet babe had gone 
 To Heaven, even from the mother's womb : 
 And one by one came others after them, 
 Till " We are seven " might have been their cry. 
 lint yet ere this full number could be told 
 Another babe was called away to bliss.
 
 DAY DAWN. 19 
 
 My mother ! how shall I delineate thee ? 
 
 So bright and blooming on thy bridal day : 
 
 So true a wife ! a mother more than good ! 
 
 Surely no better mother ever lived ! 
 
 Not even she whose " picture " roused her son, 
 
 Himself of such immortal fame, to twine 
 
 So sw r eet an amaranthine wreath for her ! 
 
 Thy voice and features do I not recall. 
 
 And cherish in my memory and heart ? 
 
 Those dark and flashing eyes, yet so lit up 
 
 With kindliness, and tenderness, and love ; 
 
 Those rich dark tresses, like the raven's wing ; 
 
 And cheeks which did outvie the rose's bloom ; 
 
 Thy voice's tones are music in mine ear : 
 
 I hear them still. They speak and soothe me now. 
 
 Fond mother wast thou ; yet how wise and good. 
 
 Never did mother's love more tend her child. 
 
 Even the babe of but a few weeks old, 
 
 Left with the nurse, and crying for the breast, 
 
 Hearing thy voice in answer to its plaint. 
 
 Before it saw thee, ceased at once its cry. 
 
 " Where once we dwelt our name is heard no more, 
 Children not thine have trod my nurs'ry floor " ; 
 ]5ut neither there nor elsewhere has been found 
 A truer mother, e'en the whole world round. 
 Firm was she, yet how gentle and how good ! 
 She reverenced her husband, and she gave 
 That heed and help he needed, both at home 
 And in his work, as far as in her lay, 
 While to her children's welfare did she give 
 That loving prudent care a mother should. 
 1 write not for her eulogy. She needs
 
 20 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 No eulogy from me or any else. 
 Her record is on high. And when at length 
 Her threescore years and ten were overpast 
 (So long, long afterwards) she laid her down 
 And died in peace, her children round her bed. 
 Peace to her memory ! Like rich perfume 
 Does it its fragrance still diffuse around. 
 Her memory is blessed ; for the just 
 Are ever blessed in their memory ; 
 And she was just, as one of Christ's true saints, 
 Who live and walk by faith, by faith are just, 
 And whose whole life is fruitful in good works. 
 
 Such was the scene. There lay the little town 
 Hidden away among the East Anglian plains. 
 Corn growers tilled their fields on every side, 
 And busy looms were plied along our street : 
 Poor, honest, toiling weavers plied them there. 
 Their webs were fustian some, and some were silk : 
 The work laborious, and for scanty pay. 
 While, in her lowly, whitewashed, thatched-roofed cot, 
 The busy housewife turned her spinning-wheel. 
 Many such humble dames have these eyes seen 
 Neat were they, modest, and industrious too. 
 How well do I remember one of these 
 Who with her pious husband dwelt alone ! 
 " Nurse " was she called, because with care and skill 
 She did attend on matrons brought to bed 
 Her voice was soft, her mien, and quiet step, 
 And sober habits, qualified her well, 
 With long experience and thoughtfulness, 
 To render that assistance then required.
 
 DAY DAWN. 21 
 
 And so these matrons drove their spinning-wheels 
 
 From morn till noon, from noon till darksome night, 
 
 " To earn a scanty pittance " at the best, 
 
 And to maintain an honest livelihood. 
 
 Most pleasant was it to behold those dames, 
 
 White capped and kerchiefed, stately and demure, 
 
 Or meek and gentle, smiling o'er their work. 
 
 The whitewashed walls, the sanded floor, the door 
 
 Wide open to admit the summer breeze 
 
 And the bright sunbeams, all were beautiful 
 
 In their simplicity and homeliness. 
 
 Sometimes young maidens did attend upon 
 
 The matron, and from her learned skilful ways: 
 
 Their slim forms bending o'er their wheels, while she 
 
 Sat most erect amid the busy hum 
 
 The spinning made : and often they beguiled 
 
 The hours of labour with some holy song 
 
 Learned from the Book of Praise from which they sang 
 
 In Sabbath worship, psalm or Christian hymn. 
 
 And often some sweet voice might there be heard 
 
 In solo, or else blending with the choir 
 
 Of voices joined in holy harmony, 
 
 And melody most sweet producing there. 
 
 They were uncultured, but had ears and hearts, 
 
 And some had soft and modulated tones 
 
 Such as in other and more favoured realms 
 
 Might have won fortune and the world's applause. 
 
 I Hit happy they to escape th' ensnaring prize. 
 
 Contented with their better, humbler lot, 
 
 If but they might each other sooth and cheer, 
 
 < )r win a smile from those they loved the best, 
 
 Approving and approved, as was most meet.
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Amid such scenes, under parental care, 
 My early days were passed: and so there grew 
 Within me a fond love for rural life : 
 For woods and fields, hills, valleys, streams, and plains 
 And I imbibed the spirit of them all. 
 Much do I love them still, with love unworn : 
 Rather with love grown stronger year by year. 
 And as my favourite bard so sweetly sings, 
 In language I would borrow, with respect 
 And admiration of his nobler gifts, 
 So I would say with him, in converse true 
 " For I have loved the rural walk through lanes 
 Of grassy swarth, close cropped by nibbling sheep, 
 And skirted thick with intertexture firm 
 Of thorny boughs : have loved the rural walk 
 O'er hills, through valleys, and by river's brink." 
 So have I ever loved them ; not the least 
 When all alone I wandered 'mong their charms. 
 Not as disdaining fit companionship : 
 But such companionship 't is hard to find. 
 Yet how enhanced indeed their pleasures are 
 When true companionship is with one there, 
 And mutual feeling more than doubles all ! 
 
 With such surroundings I began to learn 
 Whate'er from books, deemed suitable and fit, 
 And therefore placed within my childish hands, 
 By my wise parents in their love and care, 
 I might imbibe of knowledge good to know. 
 All is not good : of evil evil comes : 
 And increased knowledge often sorrow brings. 
 The man's strong draught is poison to the child : 
 And deadly flowers grow in fair science' fields.
 
 DAY DAWN. 23 
 
 The parents' eye was watchful o'er the child ; 
 
 The loving hand guided and checked alike. 
 
 Before all other books, the Book of Books, 
 
 The Word of God, the Word of living truth, 
 
 In short and simple lessons I was taught 
 
 To read with reverence and with holy fear : 
 
 Selected lessons of the Patriarchs, 
 
 Of ancient story, and of Israel's Kings, 
 
 And prophets, with their heaven-sent messages. 
 
 Or holy Psalin sung by the Shepherd-King. 
 
 And, as with unshod feet on holy ground, 
 
 I read or heard the Gospel narrative 
 
 Of One made man, though more than man He was, 
 
 How wonderful that story seemed e'en then ! 
 
 How much more wonderful does it seem mm- ! 
 
 theme surpassing wonder, rapture, praise ! 
 
 Theme to delight the child, yet awe the man ! 
 
 That " old, old story " never to grow old ; 
 
 For ever new, ever more wonderful : 
 
 And all are children in that knowledge high. 
 
 For who can grasp the mystery of His name ? 
 
 Immanuel, and so the Wonderful ! 
 
 The child the story reads with keen delight. 
 
 The hoary sage finds wisdom there which dims 
 
 All other learning, as all lights the sun. 
 
 As lamps and tapers kindled for our use 
 
 Tale and expire before the sun's bright beam, 
 
 So human learning, of whatever kind, 
 
 Is childish lore, compared with sacred truth. 
 
 Children may differ widely in their years 
 
 Or growth, or childish knowledge, yet remain 
 
 But children still: children we all are here.
 
 24 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 He learns the most who most feels need to learn. 
 The babe may learn a little, and the man, 
 However learned, here must be a babe. 
 The treasures of the wisdom from on high 
 Are hidden here : all knowledge most divine 
 In the Incarnate One is gathered in 
 And garnered, an exhaustless store, whence all 
 His saved ones shall throughout eternity 
 Find food for mind and heart in rich supply, 
 Which ne'er shall satiate, and ne'er grow less ; 
 For ever learning but to praise and love ; 
 In grace and knowledge growing evermore. 
 So was I early taught to read that Word, 
 And reading to revere : the mind was fed 
 With saving knowledge, in the prayerful hope 
 That the seed sown might find a fruitful soil, 
 And render recompense in after years. 
 Alas ! how small and poor the yield has been ! 
 Nor were there wanting other efforts too 
 To train the child in holy wisdom's ways. 
 My soul shall render praise for evermore 
 That holy truth was definitely taught 
 By explanation given of the Word, 
 And catechisms suited to my youth. 
 Not mere vague talk about the Father's love, 
 Or of a loving Saviour who had died. 
 Let those deride who will ; cry " dogma " down, 
 And boast of their untrammelled liberty 
 Of thought and reason upon things divine. 
 Praise will I ever give to God Most High 
 That I was taught to reverence His Word : 
 To hear, believe, obey, as well as love :
 
 DAY DAWN. 25 
 
 That gospel doctrines dawned upon my mind 
 
 Learned at my mother's knee when but a child : 
 
 The twig so bent as should incline the tree. 
 
 Proud " Modern Thought" may toss his scornful head 
 
 In high disdain of such old-fashioned ways, 
 
 As " far behind the age," and only fit 
 
 For " mediaeval darkness," " dullards' minds," 
 
 " Fossilised thought," and " chaos and old night." 
 
 But I repeat Who would be truly wise, 
 
 Must first become a child, and know himself 
 
 Ignorant, weak, and helpless as a child, 
 
 And feel his need of leading by the hand. 
 
 Vainly puffed up, he else will go astray 
 
 Far from the truth, " in wandering mazes lost." 
 
 Such early guidance made me what I am, 
 
 I f there is good in me, as means to end. 
 
 (!od uses instruments and works by means, 
 
 Although His ways are past our finding out. 
 
 The means of His appointing He will bless, 
 
 When used in meek submission to His will. 
 
 If thou wouldst reap rich harvest of ripe grain, 
 
 Sow in the morning early, and at eve 
 
 Hold not thine hand, because thou knowest not 
 
 Whether shall prosper either this or that. 
 
 Planting and watering are in our hands : 
 
 The gracious " increase " God alone can give. 
 
 But in this modern age we're grown so wise 
 That Solomon was but a fool to us ! 
 The child would need correction, did he say ? 
 And even bid us not to spare the rod ? 
 All antiquated stuff, exploded now !
 
 26 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Caress the child, indulge his every whim ; 
 
 Let all be " bright " and pleasant in his path : 
 
 Teach him no self-control, no reverence 
 
 For age, or learning, or authority : 
 
 Let him be forward, pert, and confident : 
 
 Defiant of all rule, and wholly bent 
 
 To gratify himself in every way. 
 
 Then see the man : wisdom was born with him, 
 
 And all who lived before him were but fools. 
 
 To him divinity is but " a myth," 
 
 And all religion is but folly's dream, 
 
 The Bible but " tradition " well worn out. 
 
 Man is the ape who has but lost his tail : 
 
 The lowest savage was primeval man, 
 
 And Auguste Comte was man par excellence ! 
 
 In " protoplasm " lay the germ of all : 
 
 Millions of millions years of slow advance 
 
 Led on the march of being through all grades : 
 
 And Evolution everything explains ! 
 
 But wise or unwise such my training was 
 That I was taught respect for age and worth ; 
 To be self-diffident ; to hold in check 
 All self-display, cultivate modesty, 
 And honour others rather than myself. 
 These are not maxims of the present age 
 For training youth. Now, he is made a man 
 Almost before he 's learned his mother tongue, 
 And, but for School Boards, even quite before. 
 Children are pert and forward, unrestrained 
 By parents or by teachers from display 
 Of their precocious parts, and rudely thrust 
 Themselves upon your notice, and quite think
 
 DAY DAWN. 27 
 
 They are your equals or superiors. 
 
 Such training would have shocked our forefathers, 
 
 Nor would their sense of what was right and fit 
 
 Have tolerated such obtrusiveness. 
 
 Their judgment was sustained by that of men 
 
 The world has ever deemed among the wise : 
 
 Solomon gives his judgment on their side, 
 
 And sages of all nations do the same. 
 
 But wiser moderns scout this old-world stuff; 
 
 These antiquated notions are worn out 
 
 And done with : " We have lived to change all that." 
 
 In this my early home, happy were we, 
 Parents and children, bound with love's sweet cord. 
 Nor do I deem that any change of state 
 Could possibly have made us happier. 
 ( 'a uses of grief indeed sometimes there were. 
 Once death's dark shadow fell upon the home, 
 And a sweet babe was carried to his grave ; 
 But then I was too young to feel the loss 
 "Which filled my reverend father's heart with grief, 
 And made my mother's eyes to flow with tears. 
 My brother William was to me a name, 
 Only a name, an unremembered babe. 
 But discord sometimes wrought its evil work. 
 E'en in our happy circle, childish feuds 
 Would sometimes mar domestic harmony. 
 Grave faults would bring upon the offender's head 
 Punishment most condign and summary ; 
 Yet never did the punishment exceed 
 The bounds by justice and discretion fixed, 
 Or long estrange the parent from the child.
 
 28 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 The child was ever dealt with as a child, 
 
 With childish thoughts and speech and childish acts, 
 
 And mild reproof would often stay the rod. 
 
 Thus reading, writing, and arithmetic 
 " The three R's " not of modern days alone, 
 In simplest form were easily acquired. 
 Then other knowledge came by slow degrees, 
 As books were mastered suitable for youth ; 
 But more was learned by active eye and ear. 
 Incorrect notions often so were formed, 
 To be corrected in the coming years. 
 Then oh ! how joyous was our childish play. 
 Within our pleasant garden's ample bounds 
 We found full scope for every youthful sport. 
 The swing, the top, the hoop, had each its turn : 
 And bat and ball made merriment enough, 
 With every other sport for little folks. 
 Sometimes we climbed tall trees, and sometimes sat 
 Upon the straw-roofed shed, or lounged and dreamed 
 Within the shade of that cool summer-house, 
 Or on the garden seat below the trees. 
 Oft would I wander forth in reverie 
 Among the shrubs, or o'er the grassy plot, 
 Indulging those wild fancies which have since 
 Taken more sober form, and by my pen 
 Been fixed in prose, or sung to my rude lyre. 
 Our field walks wrought in me the lasting love 
 Of rural rambles, such as oft we took 
 When our dear father spared a leisure hour 
 For our enjoyment : then we wandered forth 
 To distant village, hospitable farm, 
 Or lowly cottage where some humble folk
 
 DA Y DA WN. 29 
 
 Had domicile, and cheered them with a call. 
 Farm-houses were a highly prized resort. 
 There curds and whey and frolic in the barn 
 Gave rich delight for pleasant summer days. 
 Then would we gather, full of mirth and glee, 
 Around the lofty hayrick's fragrant pile, 
 Boldly ascending, by the ladder's help, 
 Up to the summit, soft as any bed, 
 And thence come sliding down the slippery side, 
 Upon a heap of straw laid kindly there 
 To break the fall, so keeping up the round, 
 Ascending some, while others launched away : 
 The jolly farmer laughing all the while, 
 As with our father he stood looking on. 
 Meanwhile the kindly housewife would prepare 
 Some nice refreshment, strawberries and cream, 
 Or home-made bread, and butter from her churn. 
 There was that ancient manor-house which stood 
 A field's length from the road, moated around, 
 With snug farm-buildings, and its garden ground 
 Begirt with walls lonely but pleasant too, 
 O'erlooking wide expanse of well-tilled fields. 
 Another, almost hidden from the road 
 By tall and shady trees, most favourite was. 
 A third inspired awe, and seemed romance. 
 Long gardens had it, stretching right and left, 
 And three deep fishponds, and a barn whose length 
 So far reached out they called it the " Long Bam." 
 Delightful were the visits paid to these, 
 And Hazel-Stubbs with quiet comfort blest. 
 The farmers of those days, when corn was dear, 
 Protective corn-laws keeping up the price,
 
 3 o THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Made fortunes sometimes, or were well-to-do. 
 
 Hard was the labourer's lot, for bread was high 
 
 In price, and wages very low indeed. 
 
 Rarely was meat seen in the peasant's cot, 
 
 And little bread was eaten at his board. 
 
 The plants and herbs his bit of ground produced 
 
 The staples were on which his children fed, 
 
 With roots of his own growing, and skimmed milk, 
 
 The refuse of the dairy, his repast, 
 
 His wife's and children's, all they ever had, 
 
 Unless fat bacon, sliced by pocket-knife, 
 
 With hunk of bread, the labourer's mid day meal, 
 
 Varied his fare, as needed more by him. 
 
 Poor as they were, the labourers were content 
 
 For the most part, however hard their lot. 
 
 Their wants were few, and easily supplied. 
 
 The ale-house had indeed its charms for some. 
 
 It might be slattern wives drove them from home, 
 
 It might be shrewish tongues. But many were 
 
 Idle and vicious, rude and coarse in speech 
 
 And manners, ignorant as any brute 
 
 Of everything beyond the narrow round 
 
 Of their rude life : dull-brained and slow of tongue. 
 
 Alas, how few had any better been 
 
 For village church, or parson's pastoral care ! 
 
 They lived and died neglected and misled. 
 
 Exceptions were there, let them have their due. 
 
 Just here and there a good man might be found : 
 
 A village pastor, worthy of the praise 
 
 A Goldsmith or a Cowper could bestow, 
 
 Whose flock well cared for, fed in pastures green, 
 
 And found sweet rest the quiet waters by.
 
 DAY DAWN. 31 
 
 Not always were such faithful shepherds seen. 
 More often were the pastors negligent 
 Of their high trust, and left their flocks to starve 
 While they rode gaily with the hounds to hunt ; 
 Or with the shouldered gun, in fields or woods, 
 Spread death and terror 'mid the feathered tribes. 
 The times have changed, and for the better too. 
 Good pastors are not now so far to seek, 
 E'en where " the Church " has all things her own way. 
 Keble and Newman roused to better life, 
 And bishops now enforce more holy zeal. 
 Unworthy pastors are the exception now. 
 But otherwise the danger lies around. 
 " The Church " is too much magnified and praised, 
 The Church's Lord not honoured as is meet. 
 When " priests " and " altars," " sacraments " and " rites " 
 Are put in place of evangelic truth, 
 The mischief is e'en greater than before. 
 'Tis better to do nothing than do ill. 
 Ritual only is of little worth. 
 But ritual meant to lead men's souls astray 
 Is worse than mere neglect or ignorance. 
 For error decked in most alluring guise 
 Will only serve to cheat more numerous fools. 
 How shall I tell with what supreme delight 
 One ramble oft we took to where there stood, 
 Athwart the stream, an ancient water mill? 
 First of its kind in memory's record stands 
 That ancient mill, to memory most dear. 
 Above, the stream, pellucid, deep, and swift, 
 Beneath the roadway bridge swept to the wheel ; 
 Below, from underneath the double arch,
 
 32 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Hushed forth the foaming waves with mighty roar ; 
 
 While from within the " tutter-tutter " heard 
 
 Gave charms unspeakable to youthful ears. 
 
 And just beyond, upon that grassy knoll 
 
 Hemmed round with ancient trees, the village church 
 
 In venerable age and calm repose 
 
 Its head upreared, and spoke of holy peace. 
 
 A fane it was long famous in its day 
 
 For preachers eloquent above their peers. 
 
 There Fairclough drew his thousand hearers round, 
 
 And thundered as Elijah did of old. 
 
 There Tillotson, with milder voice, proclaimed 
 
 The glorious gospel of the blessed God. 
 
 Fairclough from Sinai pointing to the cross : 
 
 And Tillotson alluring to the same. 
 
 There was the pulpit which had held them both. 
 
 The first for many years held potent sway, 
 
 Till tyranny stretched forth its iron hand 
 
 And tore him thence, much to the mutual grief 
 
 Of flock and pastor, sending him adrift 
 
 To end his days in sadness far away. 
 
 The second did not long remain to feed 
 
 The starving sheep ; by royal favour he 
 
 In London's proud cathedral soon installed, 
 
 As chief among the clergy of that church, 
 
 More briefly passed from his decanal seat 
 
 To take the primate's place, and mount the throne 
 
 Of Canterbury, worthily so filled. 
 
 And there, but just beyond the churchyard wall, 
 
 Were seen the ruins of the Manor House, 
 
 The Barnardiston home for many years, 
 
 From sire to son, who honoured God alike,
 
 DA Y DA WAT. 33 
 
 And honoured were by man, as well became. 
 
 For many generations here they lived, 
 
 Here died, and then were laid to rest within 
 
 The venerable church's sacred walls, 
 
 Where many a noble monument remains 
 
 To show where they were laid and speak their worth ; 
 
 And one by Chantrey's skilful hand we find. 
 
 The Manor House long since has disappeared, 
 
 No scion of that race the village knows ; 
 
 But church and squire's pew may yet be seen, 
 
 And in those silent tombs the ashes lie 
 
 Of many a worthy of the " auld lang syne." 
 
 So passes human life as a vain dream, 
 
 While things inanimate long over-last 
 
 Man's feeble lifetime, and remain to tell 
 
 That here he lived, and then was seen no more. 
 
 Oh, place most favoured in those far off days ! 
 
 Thy preachers men of God and pulpit fame, 
 
 Thy patrons also holy men of God, 
 
 Zealous for truth and righteousness and peace. 
 
 What halcyon days, Keddingtou, were thine i 
 
 These rural scenes were visions of delight 
 To my child's mind, and they did much, no doubt, 
 To form that mind, and left their impress there. 
 E'en now as much I love such peaceful scenes, 
 And find in sweet retirement true delight. 
 Ofttimes our rambles lay through summer woods, 
 Or by the winding lanes to village greens ; 
 Or through the meads where the sweet-scented hay 
 Fell in long swaths by peasant's scythe new mown, 
 Or tossed with merry shout by maiden's hands, 
 Or, piled in heaps, diffused its fragrance round. 
 
 c
 
 34 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 In later days we wended through the corn, 
 Or watched the toiling reaper at his work ; 
 Beheld the groaning wain laden with sheaves ; 
 "With rapture heard the shout of " Harvest Home ! " 
 And viewed the growing stacks with keen delight. 
 Let none deride these simple healthful joys. 
 Mere gold and glitter cannot give so much. 
 The mind that looks on Nature's loveliness 
 "Without the love that loveliness inspires, 
 Must be a dull and vacant mind indeed, 
 Or filled with vain and foolish images 
 Of things both mean and worthless, if not worse.
 
 Book tl;e Second.
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 WINTER Beauty that is Death Our Indoor Enjoyments 
 Return of Spring A Graveyard Scene Another Burial 
 Mr. Jonathan Sizer Holiday-time in Summer The School- 
 boy's Greeting Birthdays The Village Fair Boyish 
 Sports Love of Nature never Lost " The Child is Father 
 of the Man" Learning Latin Modes of Teaching Aim 
 of the Writer Long Years What makes Time seem 
 Long Cherished Memories "The Poplar Field" Cowper 
 Summer Walks Described The Bower Keddington 
 Church and Water-mill The Churchyard The Avenue 
 Moyns Park Flora The Critic Sturmer The Haverhill 
 Poet.
 
 II. 
 SUNRISE. 
 
 " The child is father of the man ; 
 And I could wish my days to be 
 Bound each to each by natural piety." 
 
 LL was not summer. There were winter clays ; 
 But winter days brought pleasures of their kind. 
 Hard frozen ground afforded pleasant walks 
 Along the road-side footway, or across 
 The fields, now snow-clad, or as iron hard ; 
 White all the ground, sheeted in dazzling snow, 
 Was beautiful with beauty that is death. 
 Ice-bound was every pool and every stream ; 
 And every tree thick-laden with the snow, 
 Each branch and bough encased in crystal sheen. 
 Then were the indoor pleasures of the home ; 
 The blazing fire, the stories told or read, 
 And various games, suited to childish years, 
 And such as children love. These all in turn 
 Afforded pleasure and filled up our days, 
 The school task over, and the curtains drawn. 
 But more delight came with the opening spring,
 
 38 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 When snow-drops peeped, and ice and snow were gone. 
 
 Then to mark how each floweret raised its head, 
 
 How buds appeared upon the leafless trees, 
 
 To listen to the birds of earliest song, 
 
 And welcome each return of life and warmth ; 
 
 All these were pleasures not to be despised. 
 
 Once, I remember, as a little child, 
 I ran to view a graveyard's funeral scene. 
 I went alone, but knew that it was there. 
 The garden gate, left luckily ajar, 
 Invited my exploit ; so out I went 
 Across the lane into the burying-ground. 
 There stood my father by an open grave, 
 His clear voice uttering solemn words of prayer. 
 But few were there, how few I hardly knew, 
 But tears were shed, and sobbing sounds were heard. 
 I had been bidden to remain indoors, 
 My nurse's charge, but slipped away unseen, 
 When she was busied with some other care. 
 Was it my little brother William's grave ? 
 So seems it to have been in nry mind's view, 
 As afterwards that spot was pointed out 
 As where my little brother's form was laid. 
 All else therewith connected long ago 
 Faded into oblivion's sombre haze. 
 Yet it could hardly have been what it seemed. 
 For I was but a year the senior 
 Of that sweet babe who left his mother's breast 
 For the good Shepherd's own a gathered lamb ; 
 And he had not three birthdays seen on earth, 
 But so it seemed to me that I had been 
 A silent witness of that funeral,
 
 SUNRISE. 39 
 
 And far into the dim remote and haze 
 Of very early life is that withdrawn. 
 
 Another scene comes back upon the mind, 
 Which memory has painted clearly there, 
 This time not surreptitiously I went. 
 The meeting-house was thronged with saddened folk, 
 And some were draped in mourning's dark attire. 
 There lay the coffin, underneath the pall ; 
 And hushed in awful silence was the throng. 
 Then rose my father's form, devout and grave ; 
 And then he read, with solemn, earnest voice, 
 Those striking lines, whose warning let all heed : 
 " That awful day will surely come, 
 
 The appointed hour makes haste, 
 When I must stand before my Judge, 
 
 And pass the solemn test." 
 And oh ! how deeply solemn seemed it all! 
 It was the burial of an aged saint.* 
 A very Simeon had he been indeed : 
 Just and devout, on whom the Holy Ghost 
 His richest unction shed. Like Simeon, 
 So did this aged saint " depart in peace " ; 
 For he had seen by faith the Lord's own Christ, 
 And in the faith of Christ had lived and died. 
 Like Simeon also, he had waited long 
 The consolation of God's Israel 
 To see and welcome as his own by faith ; 
 And as a shock of ripened golden corn, 
 Which in the harvest-time is gathered in, 
 So to his grave was brought this veteran, 
 * Mr. Jonathan Sizer.
 
 40 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 "Who the good fight of faith had long maintained. 
 
 The vision of his figure haunts me still. 
 
 His form was bent with weight of many years ; 
 
 His hoary locks about his head did play 
 
 Like driven snow a marble bust around : 
 
 His sable dress, pantaloons tied at knee, 
 
 And silver buckles gleaming in his shoes, 
 
 Complete the figure : venerable man ! 
 
 Long afterwards his name was treasured there. 
 
 " The memory of the just is blest " indeed. 
 
 Honoured he was of all, even by those 
 
 Who little knew the power of godliness. 
 
 His truth, uprightness, and integrity 
 
 "Were known of all, and by all witnessed were. 
 
 Some knew his pure devotion, righteous zeal, 
 
 And holy love ; and some had known how kind 
 
 And good he was where sorrow met his eye, 
 
 Or suffering's sad plaint besought his ear. 
 
 His record is on high : he needs not here 
 
 A feeble tribute paid to such true worth. 
 
 But such were many in those far-off days, 
 
 Unknown to fame, and known to but a few. 
 
 Kenown they sought not, and the deeds they did, 
 
 They did from love to God and love to man. 
 
 They did them for the sake of Him who died 
 
 For guilty man the death of shame and woe. 
 
 His love and His example fired their breasts ; 
 
 His Spirit gave them grace and holy zeal 
 
 They blew no trumpet when they did their alms ; 
 
 They sought no glory from their fellow-men ; 
 
 Their secret deeds of love their Father saw, 
 
 And openly He gave them their reward.
 
 SUNRISE. 41 
 
 But see ! my elder brother comes from school, 
 Where he, an exile from a happy home 
 For many months, in learning's path has trod. 
 'T is now bright midsummer ; and, merry all, 
 We, standing at the garden gate in force, 
 Watch the slow coming of the lumbering coach. 
 At length it tops the hill. " Huzzah ! " we shout, 
 As breathless as the panting steeds themselves. 
 Soon he alights, joy beams in every face ; 
 Salutes and kisses go the happy round ; 
 The father smiles, the mother weeps for joy. 
 Then on his head is placed a floral wreath, 
 Woven by sisters' hands with care and skill, 
 And bright with well-selected summer blooms. 
 Then follows the repast on festal board, 
 Which with unwonted delicacies piled 
 The hunger of the traveller appeased. 
 How joyous were those holiday returns ! 
 Xot more to him escaped awhile from school 
 Than to us juveniles retained at home. 
 Then were excursions planned and carried out ; 
 Then friendly visits were exchanged in force ; 
 And fun and frolic ruled the live-long day. 
 
 Our birthdays too were always special days 
 On which some votive offering was received 
 By him or her whose birthday had returned. 
 But the prime gift was always his from school. 
 And in long after years it was the same. 
 Always we looked to him as first and chief : 
 Our Agamemnon, prime and king of men ! 
 He seemed not one of us, but rather as 
 Some being of superior mould and mind
 
 42 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 To whom due deference should be paid by all, 
 And honour given, as was honour due. 
 
 Once in the year was held a rural fair ; 
 To childish minds a most exciting time. 
 The stalls along the village street were set, 
 Each stocked with some alluring pedlary. 
 Sweetmeats and toys delighted youthful eyes : 
 While various shows, and merry-andrew tricks, 
 Gave staring rustics wonderment enough. 
 Then fun and laughter held their sway around ; 
 And everyone kept open house the while. 
 What vice and folly went along therewith 
 Were not perceived by childish lookers-on. 
 The "ignorance" was "bliss"; if "to be wise" 
 No " folly " was when taught by later years. 
 But for the fair-time, every house put on 
 Its summer dress of cleanliness and paint, 
 And all the town was smartened up and trim. 
 New thatch appeared on ragged cottage roofs ; 
 And whitewashed every cottage wall appeared. 
 Thus some good came of evil, as is wont ; 
 There is no evil in this world of ours 
 But finds its counterpart in lasting good. 
 So good is never perfect here below ; 
 Some evil mars it, even at the best. 
 
 But though a child, and childish in extreme, 
 I yet was never thoroughly a boy. 
 " So much the worse for you," many will say ; 
 So much the worse for me no doubt it was. 
 I merely here record the simple truth
 
 SUNRISE. 43 
 
 Which may explain what else might seem most strange. 
 
 For purely boyish pranks I had no mind, 
 
 And boyish sports had little charm for me. 
 
 I never spun a top, nor could I shoot, 
 
 "With thumb and finger, nicely poised and aimed, 
 
 The hard round marble to its proper goal. 
 
 Our rougher playmates taunted me in scorn 
 
 With being but " a girl " in boyish dress. 
 
 I heeded not, for I could find delight 
 
 In many things of which they took no heed ; 
 
 Things which now charm me, give as keen delight 
 
 As in those early days ; as fresh and bright. 
 
 The summer shade of tall umbrageous trees ; 
 
 The music of a brooklet in its course 
 
 Over smooth pebbles ; and the hum of bees ; 
 
 The beauty and the perfume of a flower ; 
 
 The varied landscape viewed at evening hour ; 
 
 The mazy woods ; and vast o'erarching sky ; 
 
 All these, and many more, were my delight. 
 
 But no delight in boyhood's rougher sport 
 
 May indicate a mind effeminate. 
 
 And many may hold me, or erst have held, 
 
 " Effeminate " and " namby-pamby " too. 
 
 What boots it ? Tor I can be but myself. 
 
 I heed it not, because I trust I am 
 
 As resolute of purpose, firm of will, 
 
 As patient and enduring as the most, 
 
 In all that seems to me worth living for. 
 
 Thus pleasan t days,weeks,months,and years went round. 
 Ah ! happy time, but never to return ; 
 Let the poor child all childish pleasures know 
 Of home and nature, mirth and healthful play.
 
 44 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 restrain not by too rigid discipline 
 
 The mind's first yearnings after happiness. 
 
 Check folly's promptings ; guide the erring steps ; 
 
 Uphold in weakness ; prompt to worthy aims ; 
 
 llebuke all selfishness ; and foster truth. 
 
 But let the fancy roam all Nature o'er, 
 
 Unchecked by sober reason's haughty laws. 
 
 Knowledge will chill the warmth of fancy's glow ; 
 
 Experience bring cold winter's freezing breath. 
 
 Therefore let childish fancy roam at will, 
 
 And gather fresh delight from common things. 
 
 St. Paul himself endorses what I say. 
 
 For " when I was a child " so doth he write, 
 
 " I as a child both understood and thought." 
 
 Old heads upon young shoulders are not fit ; 
 
 'T were well if they were wise when they are old. 
 
 But old and foolish is disgrace enough ; 
 
 Though childishness does well become the child ; 
 
 Nor should he be a man before his time. 
 
 Nature the child's best teacher ever was ; 
 
 And she enjoyment brings into the soul 
 
 By every sense ; and also by her own 
 
 Ten thousand avenues and streamlets pure. 
 
 She wakens countless echoes in the soul ; 
 
 But all must be most natural and free. 
 
 Try not to make your son a genius ; 
 
 Nor seek to force precocity at school. 
 
 Strain not his mind by tasks above his power ; 
 
 The power itself will warp, and prove inert, 
 
 Where you most wish to see that power put forth 
 
 T' accomplish deeds beyond a childish mind. 
 
 Thus did not my wise parents ; but they left
 
 SUNRISE. 45 
 
 My mind at ease in Nature's quiet school, 
 And much I learned by merely heeding her. 
 Yet when at seven years old I first began 
 To lisp in Latin, how I hated it ! 
 " Hie, haec, and hoc," and then that " qui, quae, quod/ 
 Abominations were to my child's ear. 
 No doubt the memory should be thus stored ; 
 For easier is it than in after years. 
 Whate'er upon the child's soft yielding mind 
 Is first impressed, will linger longest there. 
 But do not urge the child beyond his strength, 
 Else weariness and weakness will ensue. 
 Sometimes I thought my father very stern ; 
 It might be my own dulness was in fault. 
 But Latin Syntax I detested it. 
 To me it seemed as if the words all came 
 By mere hap-hazard. put down anywhere, 
 Or as in play we shuffled dominoes. 
 But then the word-play was so very dull ! 
 " First came the nominative, and then the verb, 
 And then the objective case accusative." 
 Accusative ! nay, let it be accused 
 Of racking little brains to little good. 
 " Put prepositions where they best may fit, 
 And adjectives wherever there is room. 
 Pronouns, of course, will find their proper place, 
 Conjunctions, interjections, and the rest, 
 Put where you can, or where they best make sense." 
 Make sense ; yes, if you can make nonsense sense ! 
 So seemed it, quite a rumble-tumble heap ; 
 A puzzle was it to be puzzled out, 
 Without the puzzle's sweet surprise when out.
 
 46 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 But now, methinks, I hear some learned Don, 
 With scorn ineffable upon his brow, 
 Ask how a child could rightly understand 
 The Latin accidence, or tune his ear 
 To rhythmic measure, and syllabic flow ? 
 I answer, " How indeed !" yet will I grant 
 That, not too harshly driven, he may learn 
 Much useful verbal knowledge, though a child, 
 Grammar and Lexicon his little store. 
 The pleasure will come after, when he reads 
 With ease the treasures rich of classic lore. 
 But drive him not too fast ; drive not at all. 
 Lead gently, with a tender hand, the child. 
 Help him where difficulties clog his path, 
 Give him the clue through wordy labyrinths, 
 Nor deem that what so easy is to you, 
 Must plain and easy be perforce to him. 
 Do not forget the terrors of the birch, 
 Or cane, you dreaded in your youthful days. 
 I would not you should foster indolence, 
 Nor yet make learning's face seem hard and stern. 
 Allure the young beginner to the heights 
 Parnassian, and to the lovely Nine. 
 
 These desultory records of my youth 
 I write in verse for my own pleasure's sake. 
 If they please others I am well content ; 
 But am content if no one else they please. 
 If any think them trifling, and too mean 
 To raise their interest, or claim their regard, 
 Let them reject these lines, and read them not. 
 But if perchance some few may find therein
 
 SUNRISE. 47 
 
 Amusement at the least, let them read on. 
 
 It may be that instruction may be gleaned, 
 
 Even from lines so humble as are these. 
 
 They tell at least a story that is true ; 
 
 Perhaps a story worthy being told. 
 
 " The short and simple annals of the poor " 
 
 May find a parallel in middle life. 
 
 The rich or great may turn in scorn away, 
 
 And scoff in proud disdain at such a theme. 
 
 Learning and science may avert their gaze 
 
 In quest of themes more erudite or sage. 
 
 So let them ; let who will disdain these lines ; 
 
 Some others may perchance find wisdom here, 
 
 Or if not wisdom, yet a. lowly theme 
 
 To serve to wile away a tedious hour. 
 
 Thus time went on, as ever in its course, 
 Unresting and unhasting in its flow. 
 Only some few short years, in number eight ; 
 But yet how long to me those few years seemed. 
 Not long from tedium, but because so filled 
 Always with something pleasant, something new. 
 For not ennui alone makes time seem long. 
 Fulness of occupation does the same, 
 If but the mind be fully occupied 
 With pleasant images, and restful scenes. 
 But over occupation makes time fly. 
 When many things all press demands at once, 
 And clamour for attention to their claims, 
 'T is then the time seems all too short for each. 
 So in the giddy whirl of pleasure's round, 
 When vanities, like butterflies in sport,
 
 48 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Are dancing round, and each allures the eye, 
 They do but flit, attract the gaze, and go, 
 And vanish from the sight as soon as seeu. 
 And, otherwise, some great supernal joy, 
 Too large for earth, too bright for mortal gaze, 
 So fills and overcrowds the lab'ring mind 
 That time is all forgotten and cast out. 
 
 But still I linger o'er those far off days, 
 Those days so all unlike these modern times, 
 When all is changeful, hurried, and untrue. 
 Then was repose, and peace, and quietude ; 
 Now is but rush and turmoil without end. 
 
 Oh, that sweet summer day, so long ago, 
 When, standing just inside the garden door, 
 With book in hand my father called to me 
 As I was playing on the grassy plat 
 Which formed a centre to our garden ground, 
 And told me, with a smile and pat on head, 
 To try to learn the verses he then showed. 
 It was a volume by the bard of Ouse. 
 The verses chosen were " Tlie Poplar Field." 
 Till then, except " John Gilpin," all unknown 
 To me was Cowper ; but well known e'er since. 
 The verses took my fancy, moved my heart ; 
 And from that bright and lovely summer day 
 In my eighth year, until this present time, 
 Have I loved Cowper with unchanging love ; 
 And love him now with love as fresh and green, 
 But stronger, deeper, tenderer, this day, 
 As I have never loved another man. 
 Sweetly pathetic did those verses seem : 
 Sweetly pathetic seem they now to me.
 
 SUNRISE. 49 
 
 Beyond the grassplot lay a shady walk ; 
 And at its end the rustic summer-house 
 Before described ; and here I conned my task.* 
 Delightful task ! the first of many such. 
 Returning soon I oped the study door, 
 And gave the book into my father's hand ; 
 And then recited, without miss of word, 
 Those sadly pleasing lines " The Poplar Field." 
 My father smiled approval ; said, " Well done !" 
 And gave a kiss for my encouragement. 
 But ah ! he did not know what chord was struck 
 In my young bosom by those plaintive lines ! 
 Nor did he ever know Jww dear to me 
 From that day forth the bard of Ouse became. 
 
 How fresh the pleasure the first snowdrops gave ! 
 Beneath the window planted, or else seen 
 In that three-cornered bed beside the gate, 
 Close by the gardener's cottage with thatched roof. 
 And welcome was the "charm of earliest birds," f 
 As erst to our first parents was that song, 
 If poets truly tell, in lofty strains 
 Singing " of man's first disobedience " 
 " With loss of Eden." Eden seemed " regained !" 
 Then summer walks and rambles were delights. 
 We knew " the banks whereon the \vild thyme " grew, 
 The yellow cowslip's haunt, the primrose dell. 
 There was our " Bower," o'erarched with shady trees. 
 With fairy rings traced clearly in the grass, 
 As though the fays held midnight revels there ; 
 
 * Page 13. Line 3 from foot, 
 t MILTON, Paradise Lost, Book iv. 642. 
 D
 
 So THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Giving a weird and dreamy character 
 To that secluded grove. We loved it much ; 
 On summer evenings we loitered there. 
 The rustic plank -bridge with its single rail ; 
 The babbling brook, running through bushy banks ; 
 The gnarled old oaks with acorns and gall-nuts, 
 Seemed all invested with peculiar charms, 
 And made the spot a paradise to me. 
 Then, in the lane hard by, the one-arch bridge 
 On which a horse-shoe, firmly nailed, was found, 
 Had strange attraction ; for the country folk, 
 (So were we told) had placed the horse-shoe there 
 To warn off witches, should they pass that way ! 
 In the deep hollow of the lane, that bridge 
 Had weathered many a winter's flood, and seemed 
 Likely to last out many winters more. 
 We feared as we approached it ; and would look 
 Stealthily round ; and shuddered if we saw 
 Some ancient, crook-backed dame approaching us. 
 At the lane's end there was a pond : an oak 
 Bent over it in venerable age, 
 And dipped its branches in the quiet pool. 
 Then suddenly the vale appeared in view, 
 Where lay the village church, and water-mill, 
 So favourite an object in our walks. 
 The old grey tower, appearing o'er the trees, 
 The very picture of repose might seem. 
 The little river, winding 'midst green banks, 
 Seemed the " still waters " of the Psalmist's song. 
 The village roofs might that " Sweet Auburn "* be 
 Immortal verse calls " loveliest of the plain." 
 GOLDSMITH'S Deserted Village.
 
 SUNRISE. 
 
 Beside the path, adown the valley side, 
 
 Stood the red post-mill, driven by the wind, 
 
 In friendly rivalry of that beyond 
 
 Upon the stream, with its great plashing wheel ; 
 
 The water rushing through the low-arched bridge. 
 
 That water-mill, how dear it is to me ! 
 
 The first I ever knew, though many since 
 
 More ancient and more picturesque I 've known. 
 
 Poets and artists both love water mills, 
 
 When old and quaint, and curiously placed 
 
 In some old nook, or corner of a vale. 
 
 This was but plain, and not so very old, 
 
 But rustic seemed it, and it fitted well 
 
 With those surroundings, which were fair enough. 
 
 Pew English villages could prettier be. 
 
 Now to the churchyard we direct our way. 
 
 The hoary fane upon its grassy knoll 
 
 Claims our attention as a house of prayer. 
 
 But I have told of Tillotson before, 
 
 And Samuel Fairclough who preceded him. 
 
 Names venerable, held in honour still. 
 
 The churchyard grassy mounds attract our eye ; 
 
 For there, " each in his narrow cell," low laid, 
 
 "The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep."* 
 
 Well might a poet muse among these tombs, 
 
 Or grave divine his meditations hold ; 
 
 For pious thoughts, uninterrupted here, 
 
 Might find congenial calm and holy rest. 
 
 Then down the avenue of limes we went 
 Our homeward way, and through the village street ; 
 * G RAY'S Elegy.
 
 52 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 The shady trees their fragrant breath give forth 
 To scent the evening air with rich perfume ; 
 White chestnuts in their gorgeous blossoming 
 Eavish the eye with splendour ; and along 
 The streetway cottage gardens, bright with bloom, 
 Nestle around the white-walled cottages 
 Whose humble thatch bespeaks a rural home. 
 So we return by upland rneads, and down 
 The well-known hill so near our own abode. 
 Ever delightful was that rural walk ; 
 Remembered as a pleasant summer dream. 
 
 Another vision rises to my view. 
 This time to Gent's fine mansion would we go, 
 For Moyns Park was but an easy stroll. 
 Three miles of dusty road must first be trod, 
 The neighbouring village passed, and then at length 
 We see the portal of that lovely park. 
 Another way there was, if less direct, 
 Yet far more pleasant, right across the fields, 
 Through the rich woods of Stunner, past the Hall, 
 And by that limpid pool, deep hidden in 
 Those most delicious woods, and near thereby 
 A woodman's or a keeper's cottage, which 
 Was quite in harmony with all around. 
 Xeat, and reed-thatched, and hidden in the woods, 
 It seemed the sylvan home of halcyon bliss. 
 Emerging on green meadows gay with flowers, 
 We gathered buttercups and meadow-sweet 
 In affluent profusion ; and then gained 
 The road again which brought us to the park. 
 How stately did that mansion seem to me ! 
 Yet something solemn in its quiet air !
 
 SUNRISE. 53 
 
 On one side was a glorious avenue 
 Of ancient trees, and at the farther end 
 Of that same avenue a statue stood 
 Of female loveliness ; and FLORA she was called. 
 Well I remember, on one summer day, 
 My father and my sisters too and I 
 Had strollen forth to take a look at Moyns. 
 It was the first time I had been that way ; 
 And suddenly we came upon that scene. 
 Had some celestial being met my gaze, 
 Not more impressed my youthful mind had been ; 
 Not more remembered than that vision bright. 
 Arcadian pastoral life seemed here renewed, 
 When, with a shout of glee, my father skipped, 
 And sang a favourite air, beginning thus : 
 " ! Shepherds, tell me, tell me have you seen, 
 O ! have you seen my Flora pass this way ? " 
 Thus sang he from " The Wreath," that favourite song. 
 The song, the voice, the manner, all were timed 
 To utmost harmony with that fair scene. 
 We were electrified ; filled with delight ; 
 And as " a thing of beauty is a joy 
 For ever " * so the luckless poet sings 
 A joy to me remains that memory. 
 The woodland pool ; the reed-thatched cottage roof ; 
 The noble park with stately mansion crowned ; 
 And at the end of that long avenue 
 The lovely form of Flora with her crook ; 
 The pastoral song ; and the bright summer day ; 
 The charm of woods and meadows all around ; 
 The pure and balmy air ; the scent of flowers ; 
 The inexperience and trust of youth ; 
 * KEATS.
 
 54 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 And the glamour of fancy's early gaze ; 
 All joined to fill the cup of pleasure full, 
 And made remembrance a delicious dream. 
 
 These tedious reveries must have an end. 
 If tedious they be, Sir Critic can, 
 If so he please, here close the book at once. 
 " Such trash ! " I hear him cry. " Who cares for that ? " 
 Not you, Sir Critic, nor for such as you 
 Are these lines written in the hope to please. 
 Some may find pleasure in perusing them ; 
 And some perchance may find improvement here. 
 If deeds of martial prowess and of might 
 Alone delight thee, here they have no place ; 
 If stormy politics enwrap thy soul, 
 " The Times " or " Standard " may befit thee more. 
 If tales of love and sorrow here you seek, 
 Well, have some patience, all is not yet told. 
 This is a Retrospect, madam or sir, 
 And I must tell what memory records. 
 I do not wish " aught to extenuate, 
 Or set down aught in malice,"* if I may. 
 These lines preserve some memories of mine 
 Which only few will care for, or peruse. 
 Those few perchance will wish that there were more ; 
 Or will, at least, accept what here is given 
 With thankfulness and kindly sympathy. 
 
 For those who love old English rural life, 
 Sturmer, as then it was, would yield delight. 
 Though but a mile from our own door, where stood 
 The mile-stone, yet it seemed as leagues away ; 
 So simple, so remote, so quiet that 
 * SHAKESPEARE.
 
 SUNRISE. 55 
 
 It might have been as far away and lone 
 
 As having no connection with the world 
 
 Of noise and hubbub. Sylvan beauty lay 
 
 All round it, and thick trees embosomed it. 
 
 The church, the Hall, the farms, the cottages, 
 
 The roadside inn, clean, homely, and well kept, 
 
 All made a picture it was joy to see. 
 
 What should have been a water-mill lay hid 
 
 By the brook side in covert of the trees 
 
 Clustered around it with umbrageous boughs. 
 
 There willow trees, bending for very age, 
 
 Luxuriated in unstunted growth, 
 
 And spread their giant arms athwart the stream. 
 
 Upon the right, just peeped the village church, 
 
 From the embowering foliage around ; 
 
 The beau-ideal of a village church. 
 
 Small, ancient, was it, with a low-pitched spire, 
 
 Which crowned the tower with tiny pyramid. 
 
 The churchyard seemed the sleeping-place of peace ! 
 
 Small, quiet, grass-grown, hidden in the trees, 
 
 You feel " the sacred calm that breathes around." 
 
 Beyond, you see the Hall, a manor house, 
 
 Of the old English sort of Anna's days, 
 
 With well-stocked barn and ample yard behind. 
 
 While far away there stretched those "Sturmer Woods," 
 
 Almost primeval in their vast extent. 
 
 Then from the summit of the hill, where stood 
 
 The church and hall, you downwards take your way 
 
 To where the roadside inn hangs out its sign 
 
 Of the " Eed Lion," and you pass along 
 
 The village street of scattered cottages, 
 
 All clean and neat with whitewashed walls and thatch ; 
 
 Except a few of time-worn brick and tile.
 
 56 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 And at the end most distant from the church 
 You see the vicarage, which might have been 
 Of Wakefield's famous vicar the abode. 
 These were to me Arcadian scenes indeed ; 
 But sweeter far than Corydon e'er trod 
 With his fair Phillis ; nor did happy Pan, 
 E'er visit such retreats, nor e'er was heard 
 The shepherd's pipe 'mid fairer meads and woods. 
 
 But ere I close these records of my youth, 
 The days of childhood's innocence and joy, 
 Let me not fail to render honour due 
 To one who in poetic lays had sung 
 Of " Haverhill " so long before my day. 
 All honour to him, though he be unknown 
 Save to the very few around his home, 
 Among whom fewer still have read his book, 
 Or reading could appreciate his muse. 
 Yet Bloomfield might have written it indeed ; 
 And Thomson not disdain the rustic lays. 
 Webb was the " Haverhill " poet. Let the town 
 L)o honour fitting to his memory; whom she 
 So long has suffered, in forgetfulness, 
 " Unwept, unhonoured, and unsung," to lie. 
 Perhaps, had not the theme so lowly been, 
 So local only in the reference ; 
 Had not the title been so trivial, 
 And wider themes been brought within its range, 
 More noble might the strains perchance have seemed ; 
 Extensive and enduring poor Webb's fame. 
 Peace to his ashes ; he in Jesus sleeps ; 
 Unknown to fame, his record is on high.
 
 Eook tlje
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 RETROSPECTION The Dame's School My First Day at 
 School Removal New Scenes The Departure Farewells 
 Journey to London London Sights Love of the Country 
 not Lost Onward Journey to the West The "Mitre" 
 at Oxford "The Faithful City" The City on the Wye 
 Cathedrals and Cathedral Cities The Nonconformist 
 Place of Worship Uniformity Conscientious Dissent 
 George Primrose The Parsonage House " Meeting-house," 
 "Chapel," and "Church" Colonel Gardiner The Old 
 Clock The Brook An Adventure Loveliness of the 
 Surrounding Scenery The City Described The Three 
 Churches The White Cross The Black Cross The Bridge 
 The Water-mill and the Swans "L 1 Allegro "The 
 Minster Yard The Castle Green Alcove School Days 
 Public Schools "Tirocinium" The Master The Second 
 and Third Masters School-fellows Going to School 
 Youthful Troubles Need of Divine Grace to Change the 
 Heart The Cricket-field.
 
 III. 
 EARLY MORNING. 
 
 " This fond attachment to the well-known place 
 "Whence first we started into life's long race, 
 Maintains its hold with such unfailing sway, 
 We feel it even in age, and at our latest day." 
 
 L S one whose wearied steps at length have gained 
 The steep ascent of some commanding hill, 
 Whence, looking back over the track pursued, 
 The distant seems more pleasing than the near, 
 So has my mind reviewed those early days 
 When life was new and all delicious seemed. 
 
 So many scenes crowd in upon the gaze, 
 
 I turn my eyes reluctantly away 
 
 To others that are not so quite remote, 
 
 But yet within the verge of childhood lay. 
 Close by our garden gate there dwelt a dame 
 
 Who gathered round our little village wights ; 
 
 Taught them their letters, and to spell, and read, 
 
 And girls to use their needle, and to sew. 
 
 Perchance she taught the catechism too, 
 
 And (may be) how to cipher on a slate.
 
 60 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Decent she was in her attire and speech ; 
 
 Her cottage lowly, with its roof of thatch. 
 
 She turned her wheel, and kept her school the while. 
 
 Her cap was white as is the driven snow ; 
 
 Her gown was like the azure sky in hue. 
 
 A kerchief neat was folded o'er her neck, 
 
 And neat and trim was kept her cottage floor. 
 
 Often I watched from our front window view 
 
 The children as they went or came from school, 
 
 And envied what I thought their happy fate. 
 
 I too would be a scholar, learn with them, 
 
 Would but my parents yield to my desire. 
 
 But I was then a very little boy, 
 
 When all our village world was new to me. 
 
 To please me, my dear father took my hand 
 
 One day, and led me to the cottage door. 
 
 " Here, Mrs. Smith," he cried, " my little boy 
 
 Wants to become your scholar ; take him in ; 
 
 And let him be and do as others here." 
 
 The good dame, smiling, a low courtesy dropt, 
 
 And said, " Sir, I will do my best with him." 
 
 So there I sat and watched the unwonted scene. 
 
 All for a time went well, until at length 
 
 Some one unruly brat was chidden first, 
 
 And failing that, forth came the birchen rod 
 
 (Dread instrument of wrath) upon the lad. 
 
 The children all were awed, and silent were 
 
 As in a tomb, before the awful dame. 
 
 My spirit quailed, and terror seized me then 
 
 Lest I, perchance, such chastening might incur ; 
 
 And then I sobbed, and cried to be sent home. 
 
 Good Mrs. Smith at once gave me release,
 
 EARLY MORNING. 61 
 
 And sent an elder girl to state the case, 
 Lest I should not be well received at home. 
 So ended my first day at school : indeed 
 Both first and last at village dame school spent. 
 
 But other school days came at length ; but first 
 Had come removal to another home. 
 What a surprise it was when we were told 
 That a new home, far off, awaited us. 
 What strange conjectures rose within our minds 
 How we should like it, and what it would prove. 
 Two hundred miles away was that new home. 
 How strange and all unwonted it would be ! 
 A city was it with cathedral huge, 
 And on a noble river was it placed ; 
 A river beside which our favourite Stour 
 Would seem but as a brook : and with a bridge 
 Of many arches ! Our bridges had but one. 
 So all the child's regret at leaving home 
 Was swallowed up by love of novelty. 
 Then too we should see London on the way ! 
 London ! with all the wonders it contained ! 
 Who that has not the great Metropolis 
 Visited for himself can e'en conceive 
 The wondrous sights to be beholden there 
 All he has heard of that great city's fame 
 Serves but to whet his appetite to see 
 Those wonders for himself, and to explore 
 The mazy streets, and all that they reveal. 
 Duly the time of parting from our home 
 And rural friends at length for us arrived. 
 Inside the London coach we all were packed. 
 Close packing was it, for we numbered eight ;
 
 62 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 But six were small ones ; one was very small ; 
 A babe in arms was he, the youngest son. 
 The street, there broadest in the little town, 
 Was crowded with spectators ; all of whom 
 Expressed regret mingled with wishes good. 
 And many eyes shed tears, and many hands 
 Grasped lovingly their parting pastor's hand, 
 And fervent were the prayers of many hearts 
 That heavenly blessings might attend our way. 
 Then soon my native vale was left behind, 
 And a new world was opening on my view ; 
 New scenes, new friends, and new experiences. 
 So London opened on us with its store 
 Of vast surprises, with its whirl and roar, 
 Then vast enough, but so much vaster now. 
 The journey thither in those old coach days 
 Afforded new and striking scenes enough 
 To fill our fancy hill and vale and town. 
 The three round hills at Bartlow, known to fame, 
 Where great Canute, the royal Dane, fought hard 
 And won the battle, worsting Edmund there. 
 The bloody fray left numbers on the field 
 Of dead and dying, and these three round hills 
 Entomb, it is supposed, in three huge heaps, 
 The bones collected thence of warriors slain. 
 With wondering awe we gazed upon those hills. 
 Next Saffron Walden showed its taper spire ; 
 And Bishop's Stortford's ruined castle walls 
 Came into view ; Harlow and Epping next, 
 Through whose long forest depths we took our way. 
 At length arose before our eager gaze 
 Street after street of London's busy maze.
 
 EARLY MORNING. 63 
 
 More busy and more stately did it grow 
 
 Until the " Bull " in Aldgate we did reach, 
 
 Where London friends gave us kind welcoming. 
 
 Some days were passed in seeing London sights. 
 
 The huge St. Paul's, like some delicious dream 
 
 Of vastness and of beauty formed in stone ; 
 
 The broad, swift Thames, and mighty London bridge ; 
 
 The Tower fortress, 'neath whose guardian care 
 
 Acres of docks, with crowded shipping, stretched. 
 
 While in the west, on the same river's brink, 
 
 The venerable Abbey reared its head. 
 
 These, and the busy streets with noisy throng ; 
 
 The splendid shops, and dazzling rows of lamps ; 
 
 The din of vehicles of every form ; 
 
 Parks, churches, theatres, and every sort 
 
 Of public building to instruct or please ; 
 
 And not forgetting the immortal " Zoo " 
 
 The children's special joy were all in turn 
 
 Beheld or visited with keen delight. 
 
 How strong the contrast to our rural home ! 
 
 How large a stock of new ideas we gained ! 
 
 Yet not all gain perhaps ; some loss might be 
 
 If we loved less the rural and the pure. 
 
 But I may boast that not in me at least 
 
 Was any less that love. Nay, I loved more, 
 
 By very force of contrast, rural things. 
 
 But London was to me a rich delight 
 
 For novelty and wealth and splendour too ; 
 
 But all the same, I loved with deeper love 
 
 The fields, the streams, hills, valleys, and the woods. 
 
 London more known, the love grows less and less ; 
 
 The country better known makes love the more.
 
 64 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 What is of God must ever yield delight 
 
 To minds not warped and chilled by base desires. 
 
 What is of man must bring satiety ; 
 
 And that satiety will breed disgust. 
 
 At length our journey onward was resumed. 
 Again the four-horse coach conveyed us all, 
 The " Paul Pry " coach, to Worcester's famous town. 
 By night we journeyed, sleeping on the way, 
 Until 'neath Oxford's hoary towers w r e paused 
 For rest so needed, and refreshment sought. 
 The night was cold, and so we gathered round 
 A huge fire in the " Mitre's " ample room. 
 There, half asleep, we young ones were supplied 
 With cheering fare hot coffee and hot toast. 
 My father, in his kindly pleasant way, 
 A waiter asked, when he came in to serve, 
 "What thought he of the group of juveniles ?" 
 The man surveying us with his keen eyes, 
 Good tempered and well-mannered, made reply 
 That " only at a wax-work had he seen 
 So many rosy faces e'er before." 
 This pleased us much, and so the fun went round 
 Until the coach was ready at the door, 
 And on we journeyed, 'till, ere dawn of day, 
 In Worcester city we arrived at last, 
 And at the " Doctor's " hospitable door 
 We were set down, a few days there to stay 
 Before we reached the city on the Wye. 
 Worcester ! fair " faithful " city, hail to thee ! 
 What sweet and sad and tender memories 
 Thy name awakens in my heaving breast !
 
 EARL Y MORNLVG. 65 
 
 How little then foreseen, but yet ere long 
 In all their power and sadness realised ! 
 " Faithful " thou wast, alas ! in evil cause ; 
 And to a faithless tyrant king didst hold 
 Unswervingly allegiance firm and true. 
 Most " fair " thou art by thy Sabrina's wave, 
 While Malvern's goodly hills, like giant guards, 
 In stately silence keep their watch and ward 
 For thy repose and sweet security. 
 Pleasant the days we spent in that fair town ; 
 And then a third coach carried us away 
 To where upon the silver-winding Wye 
 We did at length descry our future home, 
 And Hereford was reached, and our abode. 
 
 What mean Cathedral cities, with those fanes 
 August and venerable, in their midst ? 
 What record have they of the days gone by, 
 The ages they have witnessed in their flight ? 
 Saxon and Norman may have worshipped there ; 
 And the rude Dane from Scandinavia's shores. 
 What deeds of blood have stained those sacred floors * 
 What war and rapine raged around those walls ? 
 But as the lighthouse on the rocky strand 
 Its radiance flings athwart the gloomy sea, 
 So 'midst the darkness of those distant times 
 Some light was cast by these time-honoured fanes. 
 Not always was the light of Heaven's own ray ; 
 But dimmed by superstition's lurid gleam ; 
 Not always worship pure and undefiled 
 Arose from priestly lips with chanted prayer. 
 Yet was there gospel truth amidst it all, 
 
 E
 
 66 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 And souls found peace and saving mercy there. 
 Devotion, art, and skilful workmanship 
 Most carefully applied, built up these piles. 
 Slowly they rose, as incense clouds arise ; 
 Almost as noiselessly they took their form ; 
 But seldom was it that the self-same hand 
 Which laid the primal stone, the topstone placed. 
 London's St. Paul's alone perhaps may boast 
 One architect and one chief builder's names 
 Inscribed upon its roll of fame indeed, 
 As under one chief pastor it arose. 
 Wren, Stone, and Compton form a triad rare. 
 Not so was built Colonia's minster church 
 With its twin glorious towers which far upsoar 
 Above the city's din ; the royal Ehine 
 From that aerial height seems but a brook ; 
 And as a vision of sweet majesty, 
 Serenely solemn, does it tower aloft 
 Above the city, river, vine-clad hills 
 And smiling valleys ; dominating all. 
 Not so arose the gorgeous Amiens, 
 Nor lordly Rheims with its unrivalled front, 
 Unless perhaps our own most noble Wells, 
 Or Peterborough, vaunt a rival claim. 
 Not slowly rose fair Salisbury's lofty spire, 
 Crowning with grace a faultless edifice, 
 Unique in its harmonious elegance. 
 But hoary York, the grandest in our land, 
 And Canterbury, with most honoured name, 
 And Lincoln standing stately all alone, 
 Proud Durham frowning "high above the Weir ; 
 These all, and many more, by slow degrees,
 
 EARLY MORNING. 67 
 
 Became what we behold them in this day, 
 The monuments of many times and hands, 
 Which did their work, and working passed away. 
 
 And each cathedral city has its tale 
 Of battles, sieges, and of changeful times 
 Of plenty, famine, or of pestilence. 
 So, too, it tells of many saintly men, 
 Chief pastors of the diocese around. 
 Not saintly were they all ; perhaps not most, 
 For priestly pride and arrogance oft sat 
 Enthroned in lordly state beneath those roofs. 
 Past question is it that the aid the State 
 With arm profane held out unto the Church, 
 Though worldly strength it lent the Christian name, 
 Denied its beauty, paralysed its health, 
 And held it in the thraldom it deserved. 
 Thus Hereford could boast its saintly men ; 
 And others too, less saintly, but renowned. 
 August before us its cathedral rose, 
 Crowning the winding reaches of the Wye. 
 Sombre and gloomy, seemed it, hoar with age, 
 The work of various builders, times, designs ; 
 But rich in types ecclesiastical. 
 Its origin it owes to Ethelbert, 
 Murdered so basely when at Offa's court 
 He sought the hand of Althrida the fair, 
 la-morse, or superstition, caused at length 
 A stately pile to rise, as if it might 
 Propitiate Heaven for deed so foully done. 
 Ethelbert's effigy may yet be seen 
 PivsLTved with other relics of old time 
 Within the walls of this cathedral church.
 
 68 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 A fire, enkindled by the torch of war, 
 Destroyed, ere long, the fabric they had built, 
 Laying the town around in ashes dire. 
 But pious zeal soon made amends for this, 
 And reared the noble building which we see. 
 Many the hands which in this bore their part 
 Before it took the form we now behold. 
 
 Not in that stately fane above the Wye 
 Did we our worship offer in those days. 
 For Nonconformity had even here 
 Maintained its own from days of second Charles. 
 When bigotry in power put forth its Act 
 Of Uniformity in holy things, 
 This western city held within its bounds 
 A small and feeble flock of godly souls 
 Whose consciences were not to be constrained. 
 Good pastors had they had, who fed their flock 
 With holy truth and knowledge of God's word ; 
 Men learned, wise, and pious, as became 
 The teachers and the shepherds of the sheep. 
 Primrose, and Voyle, and Lowe, and Samuel Smith 
 (Names to be honoured to the end of time), 
 Jointly held office as the pastors here. 
 Nor have there ever been more worthy men, 
 Here or elsewhere, who bore the pastor's name. 
 In peace, in unity, in sweet accord, 
 They ministered as one to Christ's loved flock ; 
 Were powerful preachers of the living word ; 
 And preached it more by life than by the lips. 
 So were they loved and honoured for their work. 
 But when the second Charles had been recalled
 
 EARLY MORNING. 69 
 
 From exile, where he better had remained, 
 
 Then came the turn of tyranny and pride, 
 
 And daring usurpation of God's right. 
 
 Then was a Uniformity enforced 
 
 In every place where worship might be held ; 
 
 And those whose consciences could not submit 
 
 To man's dictation in the things of God 
 
 Were driven from their cures, and made to choose 
 
 A private station or imprisonment. 
 
 And when at length, to favour Romish priests, 
 
 The wily, subtle James gave some respite, 
 
 And published without law his sovereign will 
 
 To grant " Indulgences " to consciences aggrieved, 
 
 That he might foist his papists into place, 
 
 Then did the humble Nonconformists dare 
 
 To meet again to hear their pastors preach. 
 
 But not until the Prince of Orange came, 
 
 Bringing true freedom and wise government, 
 
 Was liberty of conscience ever safe. 
 
 The Britons hurled the despot from the throne, 
 
 And made the noble Prince of Orange King. 
 
 Then persecuted truth held up its head, 
 
 And scattered sheep returned to fold again. 
 
 In Hereford, not only had the flock 
 
 Been scattered, and the shepherds driven forth, 
 
 But not again could all united be. 
 
 Yet there arose a humble meeting-house, 
 
 Commodious, but most severely plain, 
 
 And there George Primrose preached awhile in peace. 
 
 So good a man was he, so wise and learned, 
 
 That even a bishop sought to win him back 
 
 To ministrations in the very church
 
 70 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 From which not long before he'd been thrust out. 
 
 But hearing his objections, Bishop Crofts 
 
 Lamented " that church doors should be so strait." 
 
 Well were it if all bishops felt as he ! 
 
 For proud exclusiveness still shuts the door 
 
 Against the wisest and most gifted men, 
 
 However saintly, learned, and esteemed, 
 
 Who have not kneeled beneath a bishop's hands, 
 
 And " taken orders " from " His Lordship's " mouth. 
 
 Truth, wisdom, piety are all in vain, 
 
 Unless they bear Episcopalian stamp. 
 
 Good Bishop Crofts was grieved it should be so. 
 
 But other prelates took good care it should. 
 
 Here then George Primrose preached awhile in peace ; 
 And many worthy pastors followed him : 
 Until my father was sought out and asked 
 To take his place in that good fellowship. 
 Reluctant was he, all too diffident 
 Of his own powers, until persuasive art 
 Was brought to bear upon him with success. 
 And thus at length we entered our new home. 
 The pastor's house was snug and comely too, 
 Probably dating from the very time 
 The Meeting-House was built, and large enough 
 T' accommodate a large small family. 
 Compared with our Arcadian abode, 
 Amidst the cornfields of East Anglia, 
 It seemed a mansion, with its outer wall, 
 Its gabled roof, and clustering chimney-tops, 
 Its mullioned windows, and its paved forecourt. 
 Within, its glory was the wide staircase, 
 With landing at each angle, guarded by
 
 EARLY MORNING. 71 
 
 A balustrade which might have served a duke, 
 So massive and so handsome was it all, 
 Running from floor to floor, from base to roof, 
 Throughout the middle of the ancient house, 
 With wide and easy steps for comfort made. 
 In this house dwelt its first inhabitant, 
 The Reverend George Primrose I have named ; 
 And his successors in the pastor's work 
 Dwelt in it also, down to our own day. 
 Adjoining it, with but a door between, 
 Stood the old venerable Meeting-House, 
 Dismantled now of all appurtenance 
 Except a gallery along two sides, 
 And used now only for the Sunday-school. 
 For there had risen, hard by, a place far more 
 In harmony with modern needs supposed ; 
 While growing numbers called for ampler space. 
 Thus " Eign Brook Cliapel " shewed its ample front, 
 And frowned down on its humbler neighbour there. 
 In later days " Chapels " have disappeared, 
 And given way to " Churclies " everywhere. 
 Not of the " Church " established do I speak, 
 Which has its " Churches " over all the land ; 
 But Nonconformist " Churches," side by side. 
 For Nonconformist " Churches," in these days, 
 Signify buildings, wood and brick and stone ; 
 Which would have scandalized the pious ears 
 Of our forefathers ; an affront to them. 
 A Church, they held, was built of " living stones," 
 Complete and Independent in itself : 
 The corner stone it was of all their creed. 
 But be this as it may. At Hereford
 
 72 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 There stood the two, the olden and the new : 
 The " Meeting-House," in venerable age : 
 The " Chapel," smart and trim in modern guise. 
 Within the former walls had sometimes sat 
 Worthy and pious Colonel Gardiner, 
 Who fell in bloody fight at Preston Pans, 
 Leading his loyal troops against the foe, 
 Bravely resisting the Pretender's claim. 
 Over against the pew in which he sat 
 There hung upon the wall an ancient clock 
 With a huge dial, hiding but small works ; 
 Like to the monstrous head of tittlebat 
 Fronting his slender body ; or more like 
 A giant head crowning a pigmy's limbs. 
 This to the pastor's kitchen was removed, 
 Where long it ticked away portentously. 
 Black was its visage, but the figures gold ; 
 While two long gilded hands told how time fled. 
 
 Behind the house, and running to a point, 
 Was garden ground, but not like that we left. 
 This had no beauty, and the trees were few ; 
 Xo shrubbery was there, like our old home ; 
 The ground was more for use than ornament. 
 It had been larger ; but the " Chapel " stood 
 On land which had been taken from its bounds. 
 A brook, delight of boys, ran by the side, 
 And gave its name to that part of the town : 
 " Eign Brook," the name of home and chapel too, 
 Denominated all the suburb near. 
 An orchard lay upon the other side, 
 Which often tempted us with its ripe fruit. 
 But I can truly say that none of us
 
 EARLY MORNING. 73 
 
 Ever laid thievish hands upon that prize. 
 
 More tempting was the brook, and when in flood, 
 
 Once on a time my brother and myself, 
 
 Like youthful Argonauts, set forth to sail 
 
 Upon the troubled waters, stout and brave, 
 
 A washing-tub our vessel, and our oars 
 
 Only strong sticks to steer our boat along. 
 
 No mischief came of it, or other harm 
 
 Than a good scolding from our mother dear, 
 
 Whose kindly heart with laughing ceased to scold. 
 
 How fair was Hereford, seated upon 
 The winding reaches of the river Wye ; 
 With Belmont's hanging woods, above the bridge, 
 And castle grounds frowning upon the height, 
 Where runs the stream witli limpid wave beneath, 
 And in the distance Dinedor's lofty head 
 Rising so proudly from the vale below. 
 While in the west towered fair Credenhill, 
 One of the fairest of those lovely hills, 
 And there the Ladylift (most fitting name) 
 A lady seemed she amongst other hills, 
 Or fit to lift a lady to the skies. 
 Then near at hand was the green Broomy Hill, 
 Opposite Belmont, clothed with shaggy wood. 
 Fair meadows stretched along, where oxen fed, 
 Such as took name from this fine fertile land, 
 White-faced, and with long horns upon their brow. 
 And all around were orchards, in the Spring 
 Glorious with blossoms ; and with mellow fruit 
 Adorned in Autumn ; whose rich juice pressed out 
 Supplied the country round with that sweet drink
 
 74 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Of which famed Phillips sang in days remote. 
 Then smiling farms, with richly-cultured land, 
 Were seen in plenty, in those thriving times, 
 Before " distress " was heard of dismal sound ! 
 Fair was the town itself, a " city " named, 
 Because episcopacy had its throne 
 From immemorial time within its walls. 
 Bright was it, neat and clean, with ample streets ; 
 A centre for the trade and commerce round, 
 As did befit city and county town. 
 Three churches had it then ; the tall All Saints, 
 Whose chimes most musical 't was joy to hear ; 
 And elegant St. Peter's, lifting up 
 Its slender spire amidst the busy streets. 
 Sister and brother they might well be called. 
 More masculine All Saints, both tall and strong ; 
 While gracefully St. Peter's stood apart. 
 St. Nicholas' could little beauty boast ; 
 'T was plain and sturdy ; like the fisher folk 
 Its patron saint was said to have in charge. 
 But little else the city had to show, 
 Beside the old Town Hall, in pillared state, 
 Within the market-place, and just beyond, 
 The newly-built and handsome County Hall. 
 Yet many a remnant of the days gone by 
 Was to be found in ancient Hereford. 
 Old houses were there, timber-built, so old 
 They seemed to have been there since time began : 
 With mullioned latticed windows, and o'erhung 
 With heavy beetling roof, and gables large, 
 And huge and clustering chimneys high above. 
 A mile without, beyond our new abode,
 
 EARLY MORNING. 75 
 
 Rose the White Cross, a relic of old time, 
 When plague and pestilence spread havoc round, 
 And country folk laid there their produce down, 
 While towns folk laid their coin in payment there. 
 Elegant was it, sculptured in rude stone, 
 And standing on a basement of high steps ; 
 Octagonal in form, and towering high. 
 Like it, and older still, and more decayed, 
 Within the city bounds the Black Cross stood ; 
 A remnant of monastic order there 
 Where the Black Friars their vigils nightly kept. 
 Then that old bridge, which had for ages spanned, 
 With its six arches, the Wye's silver stream ; 
 The third one from the city, cripple-like, 
 Propped with another underneath, it seemed. 
 Narrow the roadway, and each narrow arch 
 ( 'ausing to rush the swiftly passing stream. 
 
 But in the outskirts of this city fair 
 Chiefly we found delight ; along the banks 
 Of the broad winding Wye, on either side ; 
 To Belmont or the Vineyard ; or to where 
 We might with wily art and rod and line 
 Draw from the stream some of the scaly tribe. 
 And many walks and rambles had we there. 
 That dear old common, half a mile away, 
 Oh ! how I loved it ! and I love it still, 
 As it was then, though now, alas ! no more. 
 No railway then had marred the quiet spot, 
 No hissing, screaming engine scared its peace ! 
 Oh ! could I see again those lofty elms, 
 Round which the cawing rooks wheeled their long flight, 
 And pace beneath the willows by the brook
 
 76 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Which broadened out as it approached the mill, 
 
 And on whose placid bosom sailed serene 
 
 Those snow-white swans with proudly arching necks 
 
 "Which else were dipped to find the finny prey. 
 
 And that old water-mill, so very old, 
 
 With its large wheel, on which the water plashed 
 
 And turned it, while the glittering drops on high 
 
 Descended in a shower of silver spray. 
 
 Beyond the common, on the sloping side 
 
 And summit of a pleasant rising ground, 
 
 A pretty village formed the background view ; 
 
 Holmer by name, a favourite spot with me. 
 
 There was a window in our dwelling-house, 
 
 An attic window, looking o'er the fields, 
 
 From which I loved to gaze, and gazing dream. 
 
 Beyond our garden's verge", and the brookside, 
 
 Stretched pleasant meadows towards the watermill, 
 
 The common, and the village just beyond. 
 
 Arcadian seemed it in its quietude 
 
 And rural beauty loveliness itself ! 
 
 Then first I formed acquaintance with the bard, 
 
 Monarch of poets, worthy of the crown 
 
 Placed on his brow by other bards well known, 
 
 Themselves distinguished, princes they of song. 
 
 Dryden and Cowper, unconcerted, join 
 
 To claim for Milton royal honours all. 
 
 Many another poet too has done 
 
 Most willing homage to that royal name. 
 
 And when his " L' Allegro " came to my hands, 
 
 That charming scene seemed to befit it all. 
 
 Green meadows were there stretching far away, 
 
 Tall " hedgerow elms and hillocks green " were there ;
 
 EARL Y MORNING. 77 
 
 And there " the high wood " on the distant " side " 
 
 Of Dinmore " hill " might " echo " to the sound 
 
 Of " hounds and horn," or merry ringing bells. 
 
 And many a glimpse I had of " furrowed land " 
 
 Where might the " ploughman whistle " at his work. 
 
 How fair that old red manor house appeared, 
 
 Embosomed in the trees which cawing rooks 
 
 Had long appropriated for their nests. 
 
 A busy, jocund colony they were. 
 
 Green and umbrageous was the country side, 
 
 "With pastoral and sylvan scenes o'erspread, 
 
 Seen from that window on a summer day. 
 
 A footpath ran by the brook side, along 
 
 Through meadows, pastures, cultured fields, and groves, 
 
 Till near the White Cross is regained the road ; 
 
 So from the city to the villages 
 
 Lying to westward making nearer way. 
 
 Delightful was the ramble through those fields ! 
 
 Another footway, more circuitous, 
 
 But showing loveliness at every step, 
 
 Across the common led through charming nooks 
 
 To nearly the same outlet on the road. 
 
 And there we met " the milkmaid singing blithe," 
 
 And there we heard " the mower whet his scythe " ; 
 
 And there no doubt the " shepherd told his tale " 
 
 Of love beneath " the hawthorn in the dale." 
 
 But if in those days " L' Allegro " had charms, 
 
 " II Penseroso " now can please me more. 
 
 But of that city fair I more must speak, 
 And its surroundings, even far more fair. 
 Though but a small and quiet country town, 
 To us it seemed almost imperial,
 
 78 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 After our rural life East Anglian. 
 
 There was the Minster, throned above the Wye ; 
 
 But small, indeed, compared with vaster ones ; 
 
 To us it seemed colossal and august. 
 
 Proud were we of the massive tower which reared 
 
 Its stately head aloft, without a peer 
 
 In all the diocese ; while in relief 
 
 It stood among the city churches near. 
 
 The " Minster-yard," as locally so called, 
 
 More fitly known as the Cathedral close, 
 
 Though in the very centre of the town, 
 
 Invited to its cool and shady walks, 
 
 All lovers of seclusion and of peace. 
 
 The greensward, neatly kept, was fair to see ; 
 
 The spreading elms stood, in their calm repose, 
 
 Like vestal virgins watching round the shrine 
 
 Of Ethelbert, laid there in his last sleep. 
 
 'T was but a bowshot further on where stretched 
 
 The Castle-Green, a pleasant public walk. 
 
 There stood a castle ages long before. 
 
 Hardly a vestige of that castle now 
 
 liemained to gratify the curious eye. 
 
 But the site, levelled, and with care laid out, 
 
 Gave to the citizens, near their own doors, 
 
 A pleasant spot, where they could breathe the air 
 
 And gaze on Nature's loveliness outspread 
 
 For miles, with hill and valley intermixed, 
 
 And many winding reaches of the Wye ; 
 
 While in the midst a lofty column stood, 
 
 Commemorating Nelson's glorious deeds. 
 
 If rest were needed, in one corner stood 
 
 A fair alcove, behind whose pillared front
 
 EARL Y MORNING. 79 
 
 An ample seat invited to repose. 
 
 The Wye's " barge-laden wave " ran far below. 
 
 A moat lay shrouded on the farther side 
 
 With a thick grove of trees on either bank, 
 
 Where swan and shadow " double swam " in peace. 
 
 Lovely those walks were, and extended on 
 
 Beyond the homes which charity had built 
 
 For those infirm of body and of mind, 
 
 Who, roving here in convalescent days, 
 
 Upon the breezy uplands found new health. 
 
 Now came the time when I must go to school. 
 My elder brother long before had been 
 A schoolboy far from home ; and now my years 
 Demanded teaching more than home could give. 
 So at least ruling custom dictate did. 
 But " Tirocinium," written by the hand 
 Of one who well knew public schools, enjoined 
 On parents, who were duly wise and learned, 
 To teach their sons at home all they need know 
 Of knowledge such as can be gained at school. 
 Both wise and learned, far above most men, 
 Was my dear father ; competent to teach ; 
 Himself a teacher of the highest lore. 
 But schools have their advantages, no doubt ; 
 Not always though, in such a case as mine. 
 'T is true the times are altered greatly since 
 The days when Cowper wrote, and questionless 
 Are altered for the better in some things ; 
 But not in all : perhaps in Public Schools 
 Are wholly better ; grant that it is so ; 
 They were not better in my early day 
 Than they had long been, e'en in Cowper 's youth.
 
 8o THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 And all he says against them had full force 
 In schools of all sorts, when I went to school. 
 
 But it was settled I at length should go, 
 Though yet not wholly, to a public school. 
 Advantages of home should be combined 
 "With such as schools could give to little folks 
 Who were not boarders : so that daily I 
 Went to and fro between the school and home. 
 This might be better than the other plan, 
 Where boys are sent from home to boarding-school. 
 Bad was it at the best, I humbly think. 
 Might I have had what Cowper pleaded for 
 Far better had it been for me, I ween. 
 Schools there were several in our county-town. 
 One was selected, as reputed best ; 
 And duly I was entered on its roll. 
 
 The master truly how shall I describe ? 
 A gentleman by manners, if not birth ; 
 And fairly learned for the place he held. 
 Ever must I respect and honour him. 
 1'erhaps a scholar ; that I cannot tell ; 
 But kind and gentle ; no stern pedagogue. 
 Discipline he maintained ; was most severe 
 To all untruthfulness and insolence ; 
 But patient with the dull ; disposed to lead, 
 Rather than drive, the feeble of his flock. 
 Of scarcely middle age, slender and tall, 
 With brightly beaming eye, and soft of speech. 
 I never feared him, but I honoured him. 
 The second master, possibly more learned, 
 More rugged was in speech and manner too ; 
 But not unkindly ; he was good at heart, 
 As goodness is esteemed in common things.
 
 EARLY MORNING. 81 
 
 A Welshman, quick of temper, he was hot 
 If e'er provoked, but was forgiving too. 
 In all our sports, when holidays came round, 
 He took his part, as jocund as a boy. 
 There was another master " Mister John," 
 Whom we all liked ; a very pleasant man, 
 And younger, but respected, for he was 
 The brother of our master's gracious wife. 
 And she, the master's wife, though seldom seen, 
 On holidays would sometimes honour us 
 With her fair presence in the cricket field. 
 Tall, handsome, kindly ; she was good to see ; 
 More good to meet her smile and some kind word. 
 
 What were the scholars like ? Like other boys. 
 Take any sixty boys, where'er you please, 
 Without selecting them, and you will find 
 Them pretty much alike, except in face. 
 And for the most part imitators all 
 As are their fathers, neither more nor less. 
 The elder lead the younger, when they 're boys ; 
 But when they 're men the younger claim to rule, 
 And dictate to their elders what is what. 
 Exceptions are there among boys and men ; 
 But the exceptions only prove the rule. 
 At school, the seniors are quite demigods, 
 Looked up to by the juniors with all awe. 
 Wonder makes imitators of the young, 
 As servile fashion those of older growth, 
 And both the evil follow, not the good. 
 
 Let now the gentle bard of Olney show 
 How boys would follow boys when he was young. 
 " The stout, tall Captain, whose superior size 
 The minor heroes view with curious eyes, 
 
 F
 
 82 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Becomes their pattern, upon whom they fix 
 
 Their whole attention, and ape all his tricks. 
 
 His pride, that scorns t' obey or to submit, 
 
 With them is courage ; his effront'ry wit. 
 
 His wild excursions, window-breaking feats, 
 
 Robb'ry of gardens, quarrels in the streets, 
 
 His hairbreadth 'scapes, and all his daring schemes, 
 
 Transport them, and are made their fav'rite themes. 
 
 In little bosoms such achievements strike 
 
 A kindred spark : they burn to do the like." 
 
 Exceptions there may be to this sad rule ; 
 
 All are not viciously inclined at school. 
 
 Some better taught, with conscience more awake, 
 
 With more reluctance follow in the wake. 
 
 " Or if by nature sober, ye had then, 
 
 Boys as ye were, the gravity of men ; 
 
 Ye knew at least, by constant proofs addressed 
 
 To ears and eyes, the vices of the rest." 
 
 We were not worse, no doubt, than other schools ; 
 
 But boys or men, the greater part are fools. 
 
 In this the cynic's satire is but just ; 
 
 Carlyle severely wrote, because he must. 
 
 An era thus was opened in my life. 
 With throbbing heart I took my way to school. 
 Long had the day been looked for ; partly hope 
 And exultation held sway in my breast. 
 But partly fear, as of some dread unknown. 
 And when at length the opening day arrived 
 With far more fear than hope I sallied forth. 
 Provided by a mother's loving hands 
 With satchel blue in which were held my books ; 
 And with a mother's kiss upon my lips, 
 And father's blessing and encouragement,
 
 EARLY MORNING. 83 
 
 To school I went with a companion friend. 
 
 A kind reception the head-master gave, 
 
 And to the other masters introduced 
 
 The new young pupil ; to the class mates last. 
 
 With wond'ring, timid eyes, I looked around. 
 
 All was so very new and strange to me. 
 
 Yet in short time familiar all became, 
 
 And with familiarity came ease ; 
 
 And ease made steady learning but light work. 
 
 And pleasantly those school days passed meanwhile. 
 
 But if I grew not much in stature then, 
 
 At least I did in mental growth, and store 
 
 Of added knowledge of most useful kind. 
 
 Think not that vanity incites my pen : 
 
 Too small a thing it is to charge me with : 
 
 Yet I ere long, the youngest of them all, 
 
 Hose to the head and leader of the class. 
 
 No doubt I early had advantages, 
 
 Which put it in niy power to distance those 
 
 Who had not been so favoured. That was so, 
 
 And that it was most gratefully I own. 
 
 Still there I stood, the youngest and the chief ; 
 
 Too young to join the elder class above, 
 
 But hardly matched with those of mine own age. 
 
 And so I carried off, of course, the prize 
 
 Adjudged to merit as its due reward. 
 
 Great was the fun, however, in our home 
 As day by day the hour of school-time came. 
 My heart beat quick, and quickly coursed the blood 
 Through my young veins whene'er that hour came round. 
 Duly the bell, with iron tongue, gave voice 
 To call the straggling scholars back to school ; 
 And fearful was the agony I felt
 
 84 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Lest it should cease before I gained the door. 
 
 I trembled lest perchance I might incur 
 
 The master's frown, or lose my place in class. 
 
 And seldom was it that I was not there 
 
 Among the earliest to claim my place. 
 
 But my punctiliousness brought many jokes 
 
 Upon my hapless head, and not the least 
 
 From that good elder brother now at home. 
 
 Sometimes my cap was missing from the peg 
 
 Whereon I hung it when I came from school ; 
 
 Or else a book was missing from the stock 
 
 Wherewith my satchel blue was duly stored. 
 
 And more than once, when starting from our door 
 
 To wend my way to academic bower, 
 
 My wily brother, whose companionship 
 
 For some part of the way was freely given 
 
 And willingly accepted, soon betrayed 
 
 His real motive, when my luckless cap, 
 
 Snatched in a moment from my youthful head, 
 
 In the next moment from a lamp-post hung, 
 
 Whereon my brother's hand, with steady aim 
 
 And quick unerring fling, had fixed it fast. 
 
 Great was the struggle to recover it. 
 
 I was no climber, even though the trunk 
 
 Of oak, or elm, or beech made easy work 
 
 For climbing knees ; but the smooth lamp-post stem 
 
 Was not so easy for athletic sport, 
 
 And I essayed once and again in vain. 
 
 If I succeeded, then there came a shout 
 
 Of " Well done, Bob ! " and off I fled to school ; 
 
 But if I failed, after attempting it 
 
 A time or two, my brother brought it clown 
 
 By quickly climbing where I failed to reach,
 
 EARLY MORNING. 85 
 
 And laughing said, " There, never mind, make haste " ; 
 
 Which kind injunction he might well have spared. 
 
 So are the boys the mimics of the men ! 
 
 Or men are but the boys of larger growth. 
 
 Do not the strong always oppress the weak ? 
 
 The elder spurn the younger ; and the wise 
 
 Look down in scorn upon their less wise kin ? 
 
 So has it ever been ; and to all time 
 
 Both man and boy will show how human are 
 
 Their plans, their wishes, and their rivalries. 
 
 " The boy is father of the man," 'tis true ; 
 
 The man is but the boy himself grown old. 
 
 I grant indeed, nay, reverently I claim, 
 For sovereign grace, an all renewing power 
 By which the Ethiopian's sable skin 
 Shall vie in whiteness with the driven snow, 
 And spotted leopards take the hue of lambs. 
 But man left to himself, or to such helps 
 As only human wisdom can suggest, 
 Or human power supply, will still be man, 
 The outgrowth only of the boy he was ; 
 Assisted or controlled with such poor aids. 
 His mind may brighten, and his manners be 
 Improved by contact with his fellow man. 
 Learning may store his thoughts, and give them scope 
 For exercise ; the senate or the mart 
 May call forth all his skill and energy, 
 And in domestic life, or social round, 
 His best affections may find ample range ; 
 But with the heart untouched by holy love ; 
 The will not bowed to a diviner will ; 
 Ihe mind filled only with earth's passing tilings; 
 And unillumined with the light from heaven ;
 
 86 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Whatever talents, knowledge, skill he has, 
 A failure and a wreck will prove at last. 
 
 Delightful were to us half-holidays. 
 Eural excursions then were carried out 
 By river side, or to famed Dinedor canip, 
 Crowning the summit of that wooded hill. 
 But most of all when we with loud acclaim 
 Resolved upon a glorious cricket match. 
 Two captains, chosen from the upper form, 
 Their several teams selected from the whole ; 
 And, all assembled by the bell's loud call, 
 Away we started, marching rank and file, 
 With second and third masters full in charge. 
 At length we reached the ground by Widemarsh side, 
 Our cricket ground, delightful spot indeed ! 
 And on the way we passed that watermill 
 So dear to me in that sweet, quiet nook. 
 The common reached, our " sports upon the green " 
 Began in earnest ; nor were ended soon. 
 Not till the day was waning did we leave 
 Our chosen sport, retracing homeward way. 
 But here let me confess, as it beseems, 
 Lest I should seem to take a credit due 
 To others, not my own, that I was not 
 Adept at all in this same cricketing. 
 I seldom sent the ball with full effect 
 Against the stumps, or with the polished bat 
 Wide sent it flying o'er the cricket field. 
 Others could foil me there ; full many a lad 
 Whom I thought dull and sluggish in the class, 
 Would catch me out, or bowl my wicket down. 
 But pleasant were those days ; and pleasant now 
 Is the remembrance, half a century gone.
 
 tfje
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 A Dark Shadow Bereavement A June Morning Childish 
 Grief not Long-lived Exciting Events The Reform Bill 
 of 1832 Country Elections The City Election The 
 County Election Chairing the Members Bribery and 
 Corruption The Ballot The Assizes The Criminal Court 
 and "Nisi Prius" Public Amusements Races Balls 
 The Festival of the Three Choirs Pretence of Charity 
 The Watchmaker Bathing Dinedor Aconbury An 
 eventful day "Alone, yet not Alone" A "Temple not 
 made with Hands" Credenhill Weobley A Poet's 
 Dream Bodenham " The Princely and Pious Cobbler."
 
 IV. 
 
 FORENOON. 
 
 " By contemplation's help, not sought in vain, 
 I seem to have lived my childhood o'er again ; 
 I seem through consecrated walks to rove, 
 I hear soft music die along the grove." 
 
 UT in those years of bright and happy days 
 Caine heavy sorrows to our parents' hearts ; 
 And ever ours were awed and sad meanwhile. 
 One of our number, brightest and the best, 
 Sickened with dire consumption, that fell 
 scourge 
 
 Of all the brightest and the best on earth ! 
 
 Tenderly was she loved, her father's pride ; 
 
 His joy and hope ; her mother's image too. 
 
 Of years she had not numbered yet fourteen ; 
 
 But tall and fair she was beyond her years ; 
 
 Slim, delicate, and lithe as any sylph. 
 
 Sometime she had at boarding-school been placed 
 
 Where discipline was stern, and comfort small. 
 
 Perhaps her rapid growth had overborne 
 
 Her strength, and left her weak and languishing. 
 
 Whatever was the cause, she faded fast,
 
 90 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 And withered like a flower cut off at noon. 
 Fair as a lily, straight and tall, she stood ; 
 Jetty and glossy as the raven's wing 
 The hair that fell abundant on her neck ; 
 Dark, lustrous, tender were her lovely eyes, 
 Like those of some gazelle in Alpine wilds ; 
 Tender and gentle was her spirit too. 
 She was her mother's help in every thing ; 
 Thoughtful and careful far beyond her years. 
 But came the fell disease and struck her down. 
 Yet patiently she bore and suffered all ; 
 Thankful for any little kindness shown, 
 Complaining little when she suffered much. 
 But wasting form and hectic cheek soon showed 
 That dire disease was working inwardly. 
 Then came the doctors, with misguided skill, 
 And made the weak still weaker ; fed the fire 
 By which her very vitals were consumed, 
 By bleeding and by blister day by day. 
 Yet blame them not ; they acted for the best ; 
 Their treatment was the science of their day : 
 Nor could it be expected they should see 
 What others saw not, leaders of their time, 
 Masters in physic, or in surgery. 
 Quite weak and helpless she became at last, 
 And almost wasted to a skeleton. 
 Yet all that care and nursing could devise 
 Was done for her, with tender, loving hand, 
 But all in vain to avert the final stroke. 
 My brother and myself became her steeds, 
 And drew her in the hooded three-wheeled chair 
 On sunny days, along the public road,
 
 FORENOON. 91 
 
 The stronger one behind, and I in front. 
 Not long th' employment lasted, but it gave 
 Some slight refreshment to her jaded mind. 
 She loved to look on Nature's lovely face ; 
 To breathe the freshness of the spring-tide noon ; 
 T' inhale the sweetness, borne upon the breeze, 
 Of neighbouring bean-field with its fragrant bloom. 
 But little it availed. The end came soon. 
 
 'Twas June, but yet the longest day not reached, 
 Though summer warmth and sweetness breathed around. 
 One morning, early, the dread summons came ; 
 Not dread for her, but to our shadowed home. 
 Awakened from our sleep we heard the word, 
 That Death had come and borne our sister hence. 
 Great was the shock we felt, and one by one 
 "\Vith noiseless step we sought the darkened room, 
 Where lay the form we knew and loved so well, 
 Now cold and stiff beneath the vailing sheet. 
 The mother's voice alone, in sobs and tears, 
 Told she was "gone"; for ever "gone from earth." 
 The father's prostrate grief 'twas sad to see. 
 To him she 'd been the light of his dear eyes ; 
 Worthy his love, he loved her more than life. 
 The stroke fell on him as a crushing blow : 
 Yet faith and true religion triumphed still. 
 Beside the pallid form he knelt in prayer ; 
 The mother and the children kneeling round. 
 Tears freely flowed, as each the lovely brow 
 Bedewed with kisses mingled with the tears. 
 Silence and sorrow reigned supremely there, 
 Though morning sunbeams gleamed the house around ; 
 And through the open window came the scent
 
 92 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Of new-blown roses and syringa sweet 
 Which bloomed beneath within the garden ground ; 
 And lilac's rich perfume was borne aloft ; 
 While the laburnum dropt its streaming gold. 
 
 Thenceforth the shadow lay on our abode ! 
 No longer could the father feel at home ! 
 Oppressed and sad at heart he laboured on. 
 And in few years we found a new abode. 
 But yet some thirty moons must wax and wane 
 Before we left the city on the Wye. 
 
 How soon the scenes of suffering and distress 
 Pass from the mind, and leave no trace behind ! 
 So is it with the most experienced ; 
 And added years leave but the trace more faint. 
 What wonder then that children soon forget ! 
 And though our sister never from our minds 
 Quite passed away among forgotten things, 
 Yet sorrow does not dwell in children's hearts. 
 The new, the fresh, will ever find response 
 In childish minds, of whatsoever age. 
 So came to me the dreamy reverie : 
 Sunlight and beauty, warmth and sylvan shade, 
 And all the loveliness of landscape charm ; 
 " Nature's sweet face," as a sweet maiden wrote, 
 Jane Taylor, once esteemed, forgotten now ! 
 So thankless is the world for its best gifts ! 
 So little known those who adorn it most ! 
 
 The land which long had groaned beneath the weight 
 Of parliamentary corruption foul, 
 And cried for justice, but had cried in vain, 
 At length obtained the long desired boon.
 
 FORENOON. 93 
 
 Reform was in the air ; " Keform ! " " Reform ! " 
 
 AVas heard from multitudes of joyful tongues. 
 
 The bill was passed, the king's assent was given 
 
 After long parley, with reluctant will, 
 
 Fearing a nation's ire and civil war. 
 
 The trumpet's clang, the mail guard's bugle blast, 
 
 The merry peals of many thousand bells, 
 
 Quickly diffused the gladness of the news 
 
 " The bill has passed!" "The bill, the bill has passed ;' 
 
 Gladness was everywhere ; friends greeted friends ; 
 
 And men who hardly knew each other's face 
 
 Shook hands like brothers separated long 
 
 And meeting once again in glad surprise. 
 
 Great was the joy in Hereford that time, 
 
 And truly was occasion deeply felt. 
 
 The city sent its representatives, 
 
 Not without contest often most severe. 
 
 And there within the city's bounds was held 
 
 Th' election of the two knights of the shire. 
 
 Illuminated streets displayed the joy 
 
 "Which could not be expressed sufficiently. 
 
 Soon came the first election which the Bill 
 
 Called forth, for Parliament had been dissolved. 
 
 Tremendous was the contest ; party hate 
 
 AY as heated to white heat, and party strife 
 
 Ranged in opposing camps e'en dearest friends. 
 
 Mo ballot was there then, and candidates 
 
 And their supporters canvassed every house 
 
 Which held a voter ; for with that Reform 
 
 M'o household suffrage yet had being found. 
 
 Gay were the colours flaunted on both sides : 
 
 Orange the "Whigs ; the Tories wore " true blue."
 
 94 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Banners displayed in front of every house 
 
 Proclaimed the inmates' loyal sentiments. 
 
 Whether Keformers, proudly jubilant, 
 
 Or Tories hurling back defiant scorn. 
 
 The drum and fife made every street astir, 
 
 While country folk poured in on every side, 
 
 Gay with the ribbons of their partizans. 
 
 The first election for the city was, 
 
 And raised excitement to the highest pitch ; 
 
 Unless the county strife raised it still higher. 
 
 The nomination day brought its array 
 
 Of vehement supporters of each side, 
 
 And lusty were the cheers they gave in turn 
 
 As each particular and party man 
 
 Was nominated representative. 
 
 Then came the polling, when the strife ran high ; 
 
 AVhat turmoil and confusion it produced ! 
 
 What rancour ! and how vehement the strife ! 
 
 Excited crowds hurried through every street. 
 
 Anxious suspense was seen in every face, 
 
 And every one was questioned by his friends 
 
 To know the last returns from polling booths. 
 
 At last the hour was struck which showed the fate 
 
 Of all the several party candidates. 
 
 The Mayor, officially arrayed, read forth 
 
 The last result and fixed arbitrement 
 
 Of that day's voting, reading out the names 
 
 With number of the votes eacli had received ; 
 
 Declaring that the city's choice had fallen 
 
 On Clive and Biddulph, strong reforming men, 
 
 To represent their views in Parliament. 
 
 What wild uproarious joy this news produced
 
 FORENOON. 95 
 
 In all reformers' breasts in Hereford ! 
 But dire the gloom, and black the looks indeed 
 Of Tory advocates of past misrule. 
 Then came, some three days after this event, 
 The triumph given to the city's choice. 
 The " chairing " of " the members " now came off. 
 What joyousness, what gaiety it caused ! 
 Friends met each other in most jocund mood, 
 And loud congratulations were exchanged. 
 The city bells rang out most merrily ; 
 Flowers, ribbons, banners were displayed at large. 
 The exuberant shout arose, " See there they come !" 
 A band of music heralded the train ; 
 Then voters, four abreast, in marching trim, 
 And wearing orange colours oil their breasts. 
 Well satisfied and jubilant they looked. 
 At last, on stalwart shoulders high upborne, 
 Amidst the crowd, with shouts and waving hats, 
 Appeared the " members," on two gaudy chairs, 
 With ribbons, flowers, and tinsel, made most gay. 
 One, jolly, smiling, rubicund, and fat ;* 
 The other, solemn, thin, dark-haired, and pale, t 
 Botli bowing lowly their acknowledgments 
 To their supporters in this contest strong. 
 Just like those figures of the mandarins 
 One sees in china shops set forth for sale. 
 Before them, floating in the wind, a flag, 
 Upheld by sturdy arms bore this device 
 In golden letters on a ground of blue 
 " T/ie Men," so ran the legend, " of our choice" 
 While in most lively strains, amid huzzahs, 
 * CLIVE. t BIDDVLPH.
 
 96 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 The band proclaimed the " conquering heroes " there. 
 'Twas thus the British right of Freedom's choice 
 Was vindicated and illustrated. 
 
 Not always did Reformers have their way ; 
 For party strife ran high, and contests fierce 
 Sometimes brought triumph to their enemies. 
 Such contests, more than once, did we behold. 
 And once the Tories were hilarious 
 Because the victory was on their side, 
 And Mr. Foley, of Stoke Edith Park, 
 Carried the county when the hour came : 
 Yet still the Whigs returned two candidates. 
 Great was the triumph in the Tory camp ; 
 Great the rejoicings in which they indulged ; 
 No " chairing " now was good enough for them. 
 Their man must triumph in more splendid style. 
 Accordingly, a huge triumphal car, 
 Rivalling Juggernaut's, displayed their boast. 
 Four chariot wheels supported this high throne, 
 On which, at quite a giddy height upreared, 
 Their hero sat amidst his worshippers. 
 Blue silk was all around him ; with blue silk 
 The high machine was draped from top to toe. 
 And o'er his head a stately canopy, 
 With blue silk covered, and adorned with gold, 
 Sheltered his head from sun or rain or wind. 
 Most elegant it was ; most costly too. 
 But most unequal his reception was. 
 As many jibes as cheers were aimed at him ; 
 Amusement mingled with the crowd's huzzahs. 
 Yet did good-humoured fun predominate ; 
 Insult and course invective were not heard.
 
 FORENOON. 97 
 
 An open carriage of a yellow hue 
 
 Conveyed the chosen county Liberals, 
 
 And Kedgwin Hoskins and Sir Eobert Price 
 
 (Tried friends of freedom and of true Eeform) 
 
 Received the large ovations of their friends, 
 
 While they too, hat in hand, with gracious smiles, 
 
 Bowed their acknowledgments for their return. 
 
 Thus Britain's freemen send their chosen men 
 To represent them where the laws are made ; 
 And each election is a thing of strife, 
 Where party feeling rages and runs high. 
 The widened franchise educates by use 
 The most dull-minded of the nation's sons. 
 But slow to learn ; self-willed as ignorant ; 
 How many but misuse the gift they have ! 
 But those whose knowledge of mankind and laws 
 Should raise them high above the baser sort 
 Not always show their knowledge and their sense 
 By a wise use of their elective power ; 
 But, basely swayed by party difference, 
 Make party purposes their only rule. 
 And fierce contention shown in canvassing 
 Strains every nerve to gain some party end. 
 And thus the rich and powerful seek to rule 
 The votes of those dependent on their smiles. 
 Long did corruption bargain openly, 
 And sought, by highest bids, for freemen's votes. 
 And numerous was the base and sordid crew 
 Who chaffered for a bribe with brazen brow, 
 And prized their vote as but a thing for sale. 
 Yet " free and independent " were they called ! 
 And, hat in hand, their " vote and interest " 
 
 G
 
 98 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Was humbly begged by hopeful candidates. 
 
 Then caine the Ballot, loudly praised by some, 
 
 And clamoured for on platform and in press 
 
 As the one remedy for all the wrong. 
 
 The coward's shelter ; covert for the sneak ; 
 
 The base protection for the honest man ! 
 
 As if a principle were worth no risk ! 
 
 A strong conviction not to be avowed ! 
 
 The wily rogue takes bribes on both sides now. 
 
 And bids defiance to all scrutiny : 
 
 It may be votes for neither ; takes their bribes 
 
 With secret pledge and promises to both. 
 
 Then laughs behind their back : goes to the poll 
 
 A secret voter, and defrauds them both. 
 
 He thinks them fools to take his solemn word 
 
 When they could stoop to mercenary deeds, 
 
 And gives his vote it may be for a third 
 
 Who was too pure and upright for a bribe ! 
 
 Let senators but make it felony 
 
 To give or take, offer or ask, a bribe, 
 
 Or to intimidate an honest man, 
 
 Or make him suffer for his honesty, 
 
 Or seek to wrong him for the vote he 's given 
 
 And we should need no craven balloting. 
 
 But few have such clean hands that they can dare 
 
 To claim the right of every honest man 
 
 To vote in open day which way soe'er 
 
 His judgment and his conscience bid him vote 
 
 Without protection for his honesty. 
 
 Such poltroons are we grown that we must have 
 
 Protection to do riyht, for fear of men ! 
 
 The man who needs protection such as that,
 
 FORENOON. 99 
 
 Has nothing worth protecting in his soul. 
 
 The ballot may protect the scoundrel's will, 
 
 And make him more a scoundrel than before. 
 
 'Twill make the briber bribe more heavily 
 
 T' insure a vote which is not worth the pen 
 
 That marks the paper at the polling-booth, 
 
 But can't insure that he will have the vote. 
 
 Punish these traffickers as they deserve, 
 
 With penal servitude, the felon's due, 
 
 If it be proved that in the slightest way 
 
 The poorest voter has been tampered with, 
 
 Who sought to give his vote in open day. 
 
 But manliness and honesty disdain 
 
 All mean protection for their exercise. 
 
 The man who cannot suffer for the right 
 
 Is quite unworthy of the name of man. 
 
 The martyrs and the noble patriots 
 
 Whom we so justly honour, shed their blood, 
 
 Went to the scaffold and the stake with joy, 
 
 To testify their value of that truth, 
 
 Or right, which they prized more than all things else. 
 
 This is the stuff makes noble citizens, 
 
 Not that which needs protection for a vote. 
 
 Poor weaklings we are likely hence to be, 
 
 Who can't do right but by protection's help. 
 
 Among the great events of local life 
 In days remote, and of provincial fame, 
 Were the assizes, duly twice a year 
 Held for the county in the County Hall. 
 Then came my Lords the Judges, in great state, 
 With the High Sheriff and his javelin men.
 
 100 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Great was the stir which their arrival made ; 
 
 The pavements thronged with awe-struck gazers wore. 
 
 First did they honour the old minster's walls, 
 
 Where service held, and sermon duly preached, 
 
 Prepared them for the duties to discharge ; 
 
 At least reminded them that such they had, 
 
 That Justice held her scales in equipoise, 
 
 And that they would themselves one day be judged. 
 
 The following day they took their several seats, 
 
 Each on the bench where justice must be given, 
 
 In cases civil, or in criminal. 
 
 How awful looked the judge in scarlet robe 
 
 With snowy ermine bound, and hoary wig 
 
 Whose flowing curls descended to his breast ! 
 
 He seemed himself the Majesty of Law ! 
 
 Pity, no doubt was felt by tender hearts 
 
 For the pale prisoner, trembling at the bar. 
 
 While magistrates and counsellors around 
 
 Lent gravity and terror to the scene. 
 
 And if perchance some fearful murder case 
 
 Had to be tried, how hushed and awed were all ! 
 
 Thronged was the court to every inch of space : 
 
 Breathless attention heard the verdict given ; 
 
 And if that verdict doomed to felon's death, 
 
 Cold ran the blood to see the judge assume 
 
 The sign of doom, the black cap on his head ! 
 
 With slow and measured tones the judge's lips 
 
 Pronounced the awful sentence of the law, 
 
 And gave no hope of pardon or reprieve. 
 
 The other court was tame compared with this, 
 
 Unless at " Nisi Prius " some great suit 
 
 Had to be argued with the subtle skill
 
 FORENOON. 101 
 
 Of foremost gentlemen of the long robe. 
 But no such outward form and circumstance 
 As made the other awful seem indeed 
 Were found in this ; for here the judge was but 
 Presiding counsel among counsellors, 
 Shorn of the ermine robe and flowing wig. 
 Yet here the law proclaimed its " majesty " ; 
 Sometimes, its " glorious uncertainty." 
 
 Each year, and sometimes oftener, there came 
 Public amusements, such as often come 
 To large provincial towns, more common now 
 Than then ; nor such as London always sees. 
 Grand concerts, holden at the County Hall, 
 Balls, routs, and races ; which we never saw. 
 In these enlightened, unrestricted days, 
 It will be said, of course, with pitying smile, 
 " How scrupulous and narrow-minded too !" 
 So say my younger and my wiser friends ! 
 But wise and right and good to me it seems. 
 No doubt it puritanical appears, 
 And stiff, and cold, and sour to worldly tastes. 
 But there was not a name emblazoned forth, 
 With dignity and worth, on honour's roll, 
 To us that shone with more illustrious light 
 Than the scorned name of Puritan ! Indeed, 
 Few names upon that roll had equal fame. 
 'Twas not the estimate of worthiness, 
 Formed by the giddy rout in Fashion's school, 
 By which our views were guided. But we asked 
 Direction from the " perfect " Word of God. 
 " Love not the world, nor things it values most" 
 So ran the record of Heaven's firm decree
 
 102 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 " Because that world is enmity vnth God !" 
 
 " Who seeks the friendship of the world, must lose 
 
 " The friendliness of God !" To us that word 
 
 Was law supreme. To parents it was law, 
 
 And to the children by the parents' rule. 
 
 Would it were ever so ! that parents set 
 
 Before their households an example meet, 
 
 And ruled them, not by custom or caprice, 
 
 But by the rules laid down in God's own word. 
 
 Who has not heard the world-embracing fame 
 Of "The Three Choirs "? united in their aim, 
 And meeting once a year, each in their turn, 
 In the cathedrals of their sev'ral shires 
 Gloucester and Worcester and fair Hereford 
 Uniting in rich oratorio ! 
 So it was then, and so it still is now. 
 These " Festivals," for such the name they bore, 
 Awakened interest all the country round. 
 '' Triennial " were they called, for two years passed 
 Before each shire received them in its turn. 
 Great the sensation was when they occurred. 
 The vast cathedral held a favoured throng. 
 The excuse was " charity " compulsory. 
 For to obtain admission to the fane 
 A high-priced ticket must be first secured : 
 The proceeds thence accruing, at the end, 
 AY hen all was over, with what might be gained 
 By voluntary offering at the doors, 
 Or concert secular at County Hall, 
 But yet deducting all expenses paid, 
 Went to augment a purely local fund
 
 FORENOON. 103 
 
 For widows' and for orphans' benefit 
 
 Of clergy of the diocese, deceased. 
 
 So we call " charity " what is not given 
 
 From any love to either God or man, 
 
 But for one's own enjoyment selfishly. 
 
 And at these festivals it often was 
 
 That the expenses very much outweighed 
 
 All that was gained by " charity " so called. 
 
 Famed prima-donnas, brought from London down ; 
 
 Renowned musicians ; singers of world-fame ; 
 
 Must be remunerated at all cost ; 
 
 And let the " charity " take what it can ! 
 
 Sublime were these performances, no doubt ; 
 
 For genius and artistic culture there 
 
 Gave splendour and tclat to every part. 
 
 Breathless excitement and intense applause 
 
 Rewarded all their efforts to excel. 
 
 Yet to some thoughtful minds it seemed profane 
 
 And solemn mockery, when the awful words 
 
 Which told Messiah's sufferings and shame, 
 
 Though set to Handel's music, should be sung 
 
 By lips theatrical for mere applause, 
 
 Or for the sordid recompense of gold : 
 
 Too shocking for an ear devout to hear. 
 
 So when sweet Philomel enraptures night 
 
 With his delicious melting strains poured out, 
 
 All ears attentive are to those rich notes. 
 
 E'en clowns and sots will listen and be pleased. 
 
 Yet who will better be for hearing them, 
 
 Or who will find a meaning in those notes ? 
 
 The mere enjoyment of the passing mood 
 
 Is all they care for, all they seek or find.
 
 104 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 So is it with the mass of giddy folk 
 
 Who throng our churches, and our concert halls 
 
 To listen to sublime and sacred song, 
 
 Allied to " linked sweetness long drawn out." 
 
 The glorious records of God's holy word 
 
 Are made an entertainment of an hour ; 
 
 And truths which shining seraphs hear with awe 
 
 Are listened to for music's sake alone. 
 
 A worthy man there was, a watchmaker 
 Of our old city : he not young in years, 
 And his wife childless : he was well to do ; 
 Kespected for his probity and skill. 
 They of our congregation members were. 
 This man was kind to me, I pleasing him 
 For reasons best known only to himself. 
 He gave me my first watch : O, what a prize ! 
 Though boyish handling made it useless soon. 
 It was his wont, on early summer morns, 
 To seek some pleasant and retired spot 
 Where, in the clear cool waters of the Wye, 
 He health and luxury pursuing there, 
 Bathing and swimming would disport himself. 
 To take me with him was his pleasure too ; 
 And it was mine to have his watchful care 
 The while I tried to skim the limpid wave, 
 Or dive beneath it, as he showed me how. 
 But hen and duckling sure were here reversed. 
 I was the timid chick ; he the bold bird. 
 My parents, trusting him, gave free consent, 
 For he was swimmer good, and kindly too, 
 And had I been a lad of bolder sort
 
 FORENOON. 105 
 
 I might have learned right well to swim and dive 
 
 Under my tutor's eye ; but so it was. 
 
 I was too timid, and could never learn. 
 
 Yet did he never flout or gibe at me. 
 
 Pleasant it was on those sweet summer morns, 
 
 To lave beneath the waters of the Wye, 
 
 With smell of new-mown hay and meadow-sweet. 
 
 And breathe the luscious breath of summer flowers, 
 
 With song of thrush and blackbird in our ears, 
 
 And the lark's soaring notes far over head. 
 
 Summer excursions were as great delight, 
 Or greater then than in the after years. 
 They were but short, and not a summer's day 
 Was needed for such pleasant rural trips. 
 To Dinedor was it ? Off we went with speed ; 
 Our hearts exulting at the joyous thought. 
 Over the six-arched bridge crossing the Wye 
 We took our way, all eager for the fields. 
 Soon were they reached, diverting from the road ; 
 Then through a long and pleasing winding lane, 
 Which ended near the foot of Dinedor Hill. 
 Another and more pleasant way there was 
 Along the further bank of the swift Wye, 
 From which a footpath led through many fields 
 Of beauty manifold and various. 
 Some meadows were, golden with summer flowers 
 King-cups and daisies, and sweet cowslips too, 
 And shadowed over with umbrageous trees. 
 Then there were cornfields, crowded with green ears, 
 Wind-swept and waving in the summer breeze, 
 As when old ocean's billows roll and roar. 
 Next there were orchards, thick with fruitful trees 
 From which in autumn cider would be made.
 
 106 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 And then came gardens of the fragrant hop, 
 
 The long vines twining round the slender poles, 
 
 Making green avenues betwixt each row. 
 
 And rustic cottages were here and there ; 
 
 The humble homes of tillers of the soil. 
 
 At length we gained the hill ; the breezy height 
 
 Was most delightful, and the glorious views 
 
 Extending far below and wide around 
 
 Were recompense sufficient for the toil. 
 
 Th' ascent was tedious, by a broad green road 
 
 Which wound around the steep sides of the hill, 
 
 While thick umbrageous groves on either hand 
 
 Diversified the route with welcome shade. 
 
 But here and there, betwixt the clumps of trees, 
 
 The eye caught glimpses of the vales below, 
 
 Lying luxurious in their loveliness. 
 
 The summit gained at length, a large plateau, 
 
 Level, and studded here and there with groves, 
 
 Invited rest, while the unsated eye 
 
 Roved o'er the landscape lying far beneath, 
 
 Diversified with beauty all around. 
 
 There lay the city with its towers and spires ; 
 
 The silver Wye, in many a winding reach, 
 
 Kissed, as it passed, the city's ancient walls, 
 
 And to Sabrina gladly tribute bore. 
 
 How beautiful were those Silurian hills 
 
 Which westward rose from out the Cymry land ! 
 
 Northward fair Credenhill looked o'er the plain, 
 
 And Dinmore's crest shut the horizon in. 
 
 Southward, the far-stretched valley of the Wye, 
 
 With every charm of wood and rock and hill, 
 
 Carried the eye towards Gloucester's noble fane. 
 
 Eastward lay Worcester, but there proudly rose
 
 FORENOON. 107 
 
 The lofty rounded summits of the hills 
 Which far above the rest, with lordly state, 
 At glorious Malvern shut the landscape in. 
 Near by, embosomed in the leafy trees, 
 A pretty cottage, neat and clean and trim, 
 Afforded rest to weary travellers' limbs, 
 With plain refreshment, or, if so preferred, 
 The steaming boiling kettle for their use, 
 Choosing to take repast beneath the trees. 
 Thus many sunny hours would pass away ; 
 And when at length the sun's declining light 
 Warned us to wend our toilsome homeward way, 
 Descending to the fields again below, 
 How changed, but not less beautiful they seemed ; 
 Subdued and softened by the evening beam ! 
 
 Can I forget that one eventful day 
 When with my father taken for a drive, 
 And lighting at a wayside hostel near, 
 We climed the height of Aconbury Hill ? 
 Not far from Dinedor was it, farther south, 
 Rising like Tabor, lonely from the plain. 
 There, on the flattened top, we gazed around 
 On hill, and valley, river, wood, and wild. 
 We watched the fleeting shadows as they passed ; 
 Sweeping o'er meadow, orchard, village, town, 
 And tower : as sweeps a mighty martial host 
 Of flying squadrons ; rank succeeding rank ; 
 Shadows cast by the fleecy clouds above 
 Moving athwart the vast cerulean dome. 
 How still was all around, save voice of bird, 
 And lark upsoaring on exultant wing ! 
 Severely solemn, as a temple vast, 
 Not made with hands, to the eternal God !
 
 io8 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Some wise and pious words my father spake, 
 
 His spirit filled with awe and holy thought. 
 
 Then, all alone upon that mountain top, 
 
 He bade me kneel with him in earnest prayer. 
 
 In sweet but fervent tones he prayed aloud, 
 
 Tones which e'en now make music in mine ears, 
 
 As praise he offered for those mighty works 
 
 Which we beheld, but more because of those 
 
 Which in the glorious Gospel are revealed ; 
 
 And humbly asked for blessings promised there. 
 
 No other temple worship have I known 
 
 So sweetly solemn, and so simply grand. 
 
 Deep the impression left upon my mind 
 
 How near it seemed to bring eternal things ! 
 
 Here God was realized as the unseen ; 
 
 A veil alone sundered the heaven and earth ; 
 
 God's greatness and His glory came in view ; 
 
 The unseen testified by the things seen.* 
 
 He who, before the mountains were brought forth, 
 
 Or ere was formed the earth and the vast heavens, 
 
 Dwelt in His own eternity alone, 
 
 Was worshipped in this temple of His hands, 
 
 High Heaven itself its roof, and the green earth 
 
 Its floor. No fitter sure could man have found. 
 
 We praised Him for His greatness excellent, 
 
 Beneath the firmament His power had made. 
 
 Perhaps of all the pleasing objects, seen 
 From various points in our suburban walks, 
 None charmed my eye so much as Credenhill. 
 Some five miles distant was it ; and it seemed 
 Almost ideal in its beauteous form, 
 Standing apart, and rising like a cone, 
 Romans i. 20.
 
 FORENOON. 109 
 
 It was one mass of lovely foliage. 
 
 Woodclothed it was from summit to its base : 
 
 And many a daydream it occasioned me. 
 
 A visit to that hill gave rich delight. 
 
 By the White Cross we passed, but there diverged 
 
 By roadway to the right to the " Three Elms," 
 
 Then to the left by narrow, winding lanes, 
 
 And passing Stretton Sugwas reached the hill. 
 
 The hill gave name to village at its foot, 
 
 Where was another rural hostelry. 
 
 We halted here, needing refreshment sore ; 
 
 Then to the little church a most sweet spot. 
 
 Around, in holy peace, " God's Acre " lay. 
 
 Thence, toiling footsteps led us to the top 
 
 Through rich umbrageous groves of ancient growth. 
 
 The village house of prayer was one of those 
 
 Which no small beauty add to our fair land. 
 
 What quietude and peace there breathed around ! 
 
 Simple, yet solemn, was the little fane, 
 
 With its small quiet graveyard, home of peace ! 
 
 The sombre yew tree, mournful sentinel ! 
 
 Kept watch and ward over those humble graves. 
 
 Embosomed in thick trees, it seemed shut in 
 
 From all the busy noise and strife of men ; 
 
 A spot of rest, and converse with the blest. 
 
 Here " the forefathers of the hamlet slept"; 
 
 Both " rude " and gentle ; sleeping their last sleep. 
 
 Nor can we wonder that survivors should 
 
 Hold sacred spots to them so much endeared. 
 
 Who would not choose such quiet house of prayer 
 
 For place of worship, suiting humble minds ? 
 
 Such structures, and so placed ; rather, indeed, 
 
 Than larger and more stately, seen in towns ?
 
 1 10 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Whate'er the landscape, wheresoever fouml, 
 These rural churches most embellish it. 
 If but pure truth and holy worship there 
 Are found indeed, most blessed are such spots. 
 
 A low square tower, with clustering ivy clad, 
 Which mantled over half the church below, 
 To owls and bats gave refuge ; nesting there, 
 Full many a songster reared his callow brood. 
 A house at hand might be the rectory, 
 Or even manor-house of ancient date. 
 A picture rich it formed ; a rural scene ; 
 Filled with soft images of rural bliss. 
 Alas ! delusive, as too many find. 
 Leaving this spot, and not without regret, 
 The widening landscape opened to our view. 
 Close by was Kenchester, of Roman fame, 
 Almost beneath us ; while as we went up, 
 Following a bridle road through thickets dense, 
 O'ertopped by lofty trees, clustering close, 
 Which yet afforded glimpses of the plain, 
 We gained the summit, there to rest awhile. 
 A green and level top we found, begirt with trees ; 
 Yet were there many points for distant view. 
 Rich and delightful, and of varied sort, 
 Were those enchanting views which we beheld. 
 There Hereford, with its background of hills, 
 Dinedor and Aconbury, met our gaze. 
 Westward, and near at hand, the Ladylift 
 Twin sister, as it seemed, of Credenhill ; 
 And far beyond, within the Cymry land, 
 The long " Black Mountain " seemed a rampart huge 
 Cast up by giant hands in days of old. 
 More northward and more near, the double range
 
 FORENOON. in 
 
 Of Foxley and of Wormesley reared their crests. 
 
 And northward Dinmore frowned defiance drear. 
 
 Beneath these hills lay cultivated fields, 
 
 Valleys luxuriant, villages and towns ; 
 
 And in the east, bounding fair Worcestershire, 
 
 The lordly, lovely Malvern towered o'er all. 
 
 It was a landscape well diversified. 
 
 Orchards of luscious produce, thickly spread, 
 
 Gave beauty to the scene. In cheerful spring 
 
 Pomona's blossoms, pink and white, abound. 
 
 In Autumn lavishly fulfilling hope, 
 
 Golden or crimson fruit on every tree. 
 
 Dark woods, fine mansions, here and there were seen 
 
 Amidst well-timbered parks ; and scattered round, 
 
 Singly or in small hamlets, cottages 
 
 Of every sort ; but frequently we saw 
 
 The real old English cottage with thatched roof, 
 
 And oft with whitewashed wall well overgrown 
 
 With climbing rose, clematis, or wild hop, 
 
 Or fragrant jasmine, or with ivy clad. 
 
 These were delightful, with the well-stocked farms, 
 
 Farm-houses with quaint gables oftentimes. 
 
 Hop-yards and meadows were innumerable. 
 
 These were a sight to satiate every eye, 
 
 The hungriest even, feeding with delight. 
 
 But if my memory serve, the river Wye 
 
 Was seen but at a single point or two 
 
 At most, nor to advantage great, e'en then. 
 
 Superior view not Dinedor could afford ; 
 
 And Credenhill has charms its own alone. 
 
 Not far beyond, and towards the Cymry land, 
 Lies a small market town, antique and quaint. 
 One summer day our way lay thitherward.
 
 112 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 All bathed in golden sunshine it appeared, 
 And the remembrance bright in fancy's dream. 
 Narrow and crooked were the streets, and steep 
 Withal, and old and weird the houses looked. 
 Some with o'erhanging roofs, and gable high ; 
 And some were timber-built, with many beams 
 Crossed and recrossing in the plastered wall. 
 Around were orchards laden with rich fruit ; 
 And beyond these encircling wooded hills. 
 So quiet was it, that it seemed asleep, 
 As though the few inhabitants it had 
 Were dozing all the summer noon away ; 
 Beauty and peace and plenty everywhere ! 
 Was it a dream ? A dream of rural bliss ? 
 " Sweet Auburn " realised for one brief day ? 
 But what are earth's best things but passing dreams ? 
 Things good or bad, the poet tells us true, 
 Are not as they appear ; and Scripture tells 
 That man but walks in " a vain shew " of things 
 Unreal ; and but dreams his life away. 
 The poet's dreams, at least, make life more sweet. 
 The dream is bliss, the waking time how sad ! 
 But then his dreams are harmless at the worst ; 
 They may be fraught with good, and blessings bring 
 On those who wisely heed them. Bunyan dreamed 
 A dream so full of beauty, truth, and power, 
 That multitudes have blessed his humble name, 
 And found his dream a mine of wealth to them ; 
 A dream far better than the wakefuluess 
 Of multitudes who toil their lives away 
 In search of fancied good they never find. 
 One more recital of those youthful days, 
 And I have done with records of that time.
 
 FORENOON. 113 
 
 There was a village under Dinmore Hill 
 
 Named Bodenham and likely is there now 
 
 A visit paid to which is as a dream of dreams. 
 
 Our way was by the Lug famous for fish 
 
 The angler's favourite stream, with many a mill 
 
 Upon its sinuous course through meadows wide. 
 
 Some villages we passed, and lovely farms. 
 
 Until at length, and ere the sun was high, 
 
 We reached the spot to which our steps were bound, 
 
 A little farm which paid my father rent. 
 
 Snug was it lying there amidst the trees ; 
 
 And warm, but homely, the reception given. 
 
 The day was bright and warm, at Summer's height ; 
 
 And all seemed bathed as m a golden sheen. 
 
 A labyrinth of narrow roads and lanes, 
 
 Amidst farm-houses, hamlets, cottages, 
 
 Through meadows, orchards rich with growing fruit, 
 
 And corn-fields rich with green and wavy corn, 
 
 And wooded hills, and winding placid streams, 
 
 Hop gardens with their serried rows of poles 
 
 Up which the embracing bine climbed loving! y, 
 
 Made the excursion charming to our gaze. 
 
 Birds sang in merry chorus, though the full choir, 
 
 Led by sweet Philomel, was somewhat past. 
 
 Wild roses made the roadside hedges gay, 
 
 And elder-flower vied with the traveller's joy, 
 
 And luscious woodbine spread its perfume round. 
 
 Amid the clumps of trees old gables peeped, 
 
 And barn doors opened wide, with sound of flail 
 
 (For in those halcyon days no strum was heard), 
 
 And crowing chanticleers amid their dames, 
 
 Childivn with ruddy faces and bright eyes, 
 
 And cleanly cottages, and cottage grounds 
 
 H
 
 114 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 "Well stocked with fruit trees and with humming bees, 
 
 Delicious were to the delighted sense. 
 
 Near by the farm at which we made our halt 
 
 A cobbler dwelt a cobbler known to fame ; 
 
 Fame best worth having, honourably named. 
 
 It was the custom of that worthy man 
 
 To gather round him at the noontide hour 
 
 His family, and neighbours who would come, 
 
 To spend in prayer one half an hour of rest ; 
 
 liest for the body, seeking rest of soul. 
 
 Invited modestly to join the band, 
 
 We joined it heartily. My father's voice 
 
 The closing supplication led devout. 
 
 Solemn and earnest ; as were also those 
 
 Offered by rustic lips on that hard floor 
 
 On which we knelt beneath the lowly roof. 
 
 Deride not, scoffer ! man of trifling heart ! 
 
 "Would thou hadst ever half so good employ ! 
 
 Learn thou the lesson this plain fact may teacli : 
 
 " In all thy ways acknowledge thou thy God I" 
 
 Such men as he of whom I write are rare ; 
 
 The earth were wiser, better, happier, 
 
 By far, were such as he was not so rare. 
 
 But now must close the record of those days ; 
 Days sometimes overcast, as I have told ; 
 But for the most part bright and jubilant, 
 If all were but the dreamings of a child. 
 So much of darkness and of dire distress 
 Has fallen on me since, for pity's sake 
 Scorn not this tale of happy childhood's time. 
 Would I had day-dreams now as bright as those ! 
 Dreani I do still ; for life is all a dream ; 
 But dreams so bright have passed for aye away.
 
 tjje JTtftI;,
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 Change, the Characteristic of all Things on Earth Change 
 which came to us The Midland Town The Meeting-House 
 The Pastor Effect of his Preaching The Word with 
 Power Impression and Conviction The timid, yet firm 
 Resolve The Avowal Church Fellowship The First 
 Communion A Fellow Convert "All old-fashioned and 
 exploded Notions and Doings " Modern Substitutes Re- 
 viewed Lawn Tennis Modern " Higher Criticism " The 
 Critics Criticised The Modern Confirmation Bazaars and 
 Fancy Fairs " Still Waters run deep " Anxious Thought 
 about the future of Life Inclination for the Ministry 
 Trial Time The Decision taken College Days Choice 
 between the Established and Nonconformist Churches 
 Baptismal Regeneration Laxity of Communion Church 
 Establishment The Church of England a venerable and 
 noble Church The Reformation Henry the Eighth 
 Grand array of honoured Names in the Church of England 
 The Church and the World Not to be Confounded The 
 Choice must be between one or the other My Choice made.
 
 V. 
 
 NOON-DAY. 
 
 " The pulpit, therefore ; and I name it filled 
 With solemn awe, that bids me well beware 
 With what intent I touch that holy thing." 
 
 H ! who can say he has a home on earth, 
 Where nothing stable is, and nothing sure, 
 Save death, and that last home beneath the 
 
 ground ? 
 things here change, change while we look 
 
 at them: 
 
 We seem to see them, and yet see them not. 
 We see but what was once ; an instant seen ; 
 Changed, while we see it, into something else. 
 So flows the stream ; it always seems the same ; 
 Yet never do we see it in one stay. 
 Wave follows wave upon the mighty sea ; 
 The ocean changes as we gaze thereon, 
 And never do we twice behold alike 
 Its awful aspect ever-changing sea ! 
 So is it also in our human life : 
 So is it in all sublunary things : 
 " ( 'liange and decay in all around we see"; 
 ('hanging, decaying, fleeting, everything!
 
 Ii8 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 What shadows do men grasp, or think they do ! 
 And find them shadows that they cannot grasp ; 
 But catch at others as unreal as they ; 
 For ever chasing what eludes them still. 
 Yet, would we only view the thing aright, 
 E'en in the change we might behold some good. 
 For this is not our rest, and pilgrims here 
 Must feel that they are in a world of change ; 
 A world where they are strangers and unknown. 
 So we pass on mid ever changing scenes ; 
 All things around us are but passing show. 
 Changeful as we ourselves, and we as they. 
 
 So was it that erelong, in course of time, 
 Our Hereford abode was ours no more. 
 Reasons sufficient led the pastor forth, 
 Leaving his pulpit and his flock behind, 
 To minister elsewhere in holy things. 
 This time, a midland county sought his aid ; 
 A flock bereaved sought nurture from his care. 
 It was an ancient town that welcomed us. 
 Grey were its buildings, formed of time-worn stone ; 
 Quiet its streets, and at one end a bridge 
 Which might have rivalled that of Olney fame, 
 " That with its wearisome but needful length 
 Bestrode the wintry flood," " the Long Bridge " called. 
 A parish church there was, of graceful form, 
 With lofty tapering spire, rising above 
 Green elms which sheltered " hillocks green " below, 
 Pointing to heaven, a silent monitor. 
 Ours was the meeting-house of ancient date, 
 As ancient as the first at Hereford : 
 Dull, heavy, ugly, it would be esteemed ;
 
 NOON-DA Y. 1 19 
 
 And certes, it could claim no elegance 
 In rivalry of that fine parish church 
 Standing so stately 'midst encircling trees. 
 
 Here was it that the pastor's voice was heard ; 
 His form most dignified, his face benign, 
 His tones most musical and clear and sweet, 
 Grave, solemn, tender, as the themes he chose, 
 "With force of cogent argument set forth ; 
 With sympathy and pathos aptly urged. 
 Full well he knew the " large import " the work 
 Committed to his hands, his charge, did bear. 
 ISTo light regard had he to its demands. 
 Knowledge extensive ; talents apt and choice, 
 And well applied, most needful did he deem. 
 One who could teach, being himself well taught ; 
 Gifted with thoughts of light, a tongue of fire, 
 Ready command of clear well-chosen speech, 
 And having, above all, a heart impressed 
 "With deep sense of responsibility 
 As one who had himself been brought to feel 
 The vast importance of eternal things, 
 And knew, in his deep inner consciousness, 
 The preciousness of all the gospel told ; 
 Such was the man he deemed a pastor fit. 
 And such a man he was, if ever such 
 Adorned the pulpit that most holy thing ! 
 A man of simple and of blamless life ; 
 liefined in manners, as in speech and face; 
 Kind to the poor, and unobsequious 
 To wealth or worldly power or fashion's spell. 
 Deep was the silence, rapt the earnestness, 
 AVith which his hearers hung upon his lips, 
 As he unfolded mysteries divine,
 
 120 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Enforced the mighty messages of heaven, 
 
 And held the mind and conscience both spell-bound. 
 
 Hard was the heart that could untouched resist 
 
 The tender pleading force of his appeals. 
 
 Nor will it wonder cause if I relate, 
 
 Nor need I blush to tell, that from his lips, 
 
 And as he preached with life and power the word, 
 
 My soul received the messages of grace 
 
 With light and power from God the Holy Ghost, 
 
 Sent by my father's lips to my young heart. 
 
 Great was his joy when I confessed with tears, 
 
 After long silent conflict, doubt and fear 
 
 Still clinging to me, hampering my way, 
 
 What I had learned, and felt, and now resolved ; 
 
 Sealing his ministry in my own case, 
 
 To take Christ's yoke upon me, bear His name, 
 
 Confessing Him before a Christless world. 
 
 Encouragement and caution both were given ; 
 
 Prayer offered, as we both with flowing tears 
 
 Together knelt before the throne of grace ; 
 
 Nothing done hastily, or without heed. 
 
 Let others probe the youthful mind with skill ; 
 
 Not leading, but examining with care ; 
 
 And let due time for trial be allowed. 
 
 Such were the wise precautions then in use ; 
 
 Too little used, perchance, in these rash days, 
 
 When all is speed and dash and confidence. 
 
 Nor as some pastors I perhaps could name 
 
 Whose unfledged "converts" crowd their churches' gates, 
 
 But afford little credit to the means 
 
 Employed to draw them into Christian bonds. 
 
 " Wood, hay, and stubble " are materials, 
 
 When used in building, but to feed the fire !
 
 NOON-DAY. 121 
 
 At length, slow-footed, came the eventful day 
 When with the little flock I should partake 
 The hallowed symbols of Christ's dying love, 
 And own Him Lord and Saviour before all. 
 Let not the impression of that sacred day 
 Pass from my memory, but indelibly 
 There fixed remain while life or being last ! 
 Thenceforth, though most unfaithful I have been, 
 Christ have I served, with humble, willing heart. 
 And though now half a century has rolled 
 Its shifting tides of sorrow and of joy 
 Over my heart, I would again repeat 
 That solemn act of homage, faith, and love, 
 As freshly and as meekly as that day. 
 A maiden friend was there, who took her vows 
 Beside me then : pure, gentle as a child, 
 And full of winning kindness, genial, 
 And bright was she with radiant loveliness. 
 Long since she passed in maidenhood to Heaven ; 
 While I remained to fight with care and sin, 
 And labour for the gracious Master's sake. 
 So, as 'tis sung, ever " the best die first ": 
 The ripest fruits first gathered for the store. 
 
 And now perchance some reader will exclaim 
 " How ' old world ' this ! what interest for to-day 
 In this poor story is there for our age ? 
 All that is changed, e'en in the most obscure 
 And narrow limits of such humble life." 
 It may be so, my most contemptuous friend ; 
 So much the worse for you if changed it be. 
 Tell me what better thing you have to show ? 
 Lawn-tennis is it ? where in motley garb 
 Young men with empty heads and vacant stare
 
 122 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Strive to excel in mere tomfoolery; 
 
 And maidens, vain and vapid, urge the ball, 
 
 Contending each with other who shall win ? 
 
 The play is well enough, if wisely played. 
 
 Not to denounce amusement is my aim. 
 
 But surely life, even in youthful days, 
 
 Has some more serious purpose for our care. 
 
 So much devotion to so slight a thing 
 
 Can scarcely be superior wisdom's mark. 
 
 Amusement may be helpful to relax 
 
 The jaded mind ; and some athletic sport 
 
 May brace the nerves, and make the muscles strong. 
 
 But so much play is only poor excuse 
 
 For idleness, and reckless waste of time. 
 
 Or does my censor turn away in scorn, 
 
 Boasting " Free Thought," and that enlightenment 
 
 Which modern Science gives its votaries ? 
 
 What cares he for the antiquated stuff, 
 
 Exploded now, taught by religious men, 
 
 Now Strauss and Renan and the mighty host 
 
 Of German critics of more recent date 
 
 Have shown what myths the Gospels underlie, 
 
 And proved the Jewish records to be lies. 
 
 Moses at best was but a crafty sage, 
 
 And would not have been that without the aid 
 
 Of Ezra and the post-exilic scribes 
 
 Who wrote the books he was supposed to write ! 
 
 And He, who spake as never man before 
 
 Had spoken, and the record of whose life 
 
 And death declares Him more than man, even He 
 
 (So vaunts audacious modern blasphemy) 
 
 Was not what His own servants say He was ;
 
 NOON-DAY. 123 
 
 Nor did He do what they declare He did ! 
 
 For Paul and Peter, James and John and Jude, 
 
 Were rival teachers, all themselves deceived ; 
 
 Victims themselves of superstition's dream, 
 
 If they indeed (as seems) were not all myths ! 
 
 For German erudition has ransacked 
 
 The sources of all knowledge, and laid bare 
 
 The germs and bases of these idle tales, 
 
 And schooled us all into historic truth ! 
 
 Drop, potent teachers, drop at once your veil, 
 
 And tell us plainly what it is you teach ! 
 
 " The Bible is a pack of worn-out lies, 
 
 The Gospel but a visionary dream ; 
 
 He was (oh yes, we reverence Him) 
 
 He was (well, we 're not quite agreed) 
 
 A pure enthusiast, lofty in his aims, 
 
 But quite unconscious whither they would tend." 
 
 " Oh no ! (we 're not so sure of that). He was, 
 
 Rather we think, deceiver and deceived : 
 
 Has done the world much harm. The Christian name 
 
 Means trickery and greed and public wrong ! 
 
 But yet let Science speak, Science is all ; 
 
 She teaches Evolution, nothing else. 
 
 All was evolved : the Christ from ancient myths ; 
 
 As Buddha was evolved in the far East ; 
 
 And these again from smallest germs of thought 
 
 In the far-off and pre-historic age ! " 
 
 Historic truth must be explained as myth ! 
 
 Hypothesis, as scientific fact ! 
 
 But, oh most sage Reformers of our time, 
 
 Tell us at least what surely you believe ; 
 
 For sure in Babel's self, as it is writ 
 
 In that same book of Moses you impugn,
 
 124 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 ]S T o worse confusion among mortal tongues 
 
 Could be than that we hear among yourselves. 
 
 Strauss, Hieckel, Renan, Baur, and "Wellhausen, 
 
 Each contradicts the others, and proclaims 
 
 Himself the mighty teacher of all truth. 
 
 " The higher criticism's " vaunted school 
 
 Can only tell us what not to believe. 
 
 It has no sure undoubted truth, agreed 
 
 Upon by all these learned men alike. 
 
 'T is true that Christian scholars differ much 
 
 On minor points where there is room for doubt, 
 
 But all alike hold fundamental truth, 
 
 Or forfeit else all claim to Christian name. 
 
 But who can find amidst this German lore 
 
 Two certain axiomatic truths laid down 
 
 And firmly held among them all ? 
 
 " Destroy," " destroy," " spare not," is all their cry ; 
 
 " Resolve it all into mere vapoury myth," 
 
 And " raze it, raze it, even to the ground." 
 
 So vaunted Edom o'er Jerusalem, 
 
 When captive Judah by the waters sat 
 
 Of Babylonia proud, and mourned her fate. 
 
 But Judah's prayer was heard with Edom's vaunt, 
 
 And doomed the proud derider's awful end. 
 
 Nor shall humanity itself protest 
 
 If the poor offspring of such learned brains 
 
 Be dashed in pieces by contemptuous Truth. 
 
 Perhaps our modern ways are better shown 
 In outward deference to the Christian name. 
 Behold, the confirmation-day is come, 
 And anxious shepherds lead their youthful flocks 
 To pass beneath the bishop's sacred hands. 
 See now the maidens, are they not all brides ?
 
 NOON-DA Y. 125 
 
 So bridal and ornate is the attire ! 
 
 What pains have mothers ta'en to deck them out 
 
 In millinery most elaborate ! 
 
 Have equal pains been taken to ensure 
 
 That their profession was at least sincere, 
 
 And not profane and hollow mockery ? 
 
 And see the jocund youths, how blithe they come, 
 
 As to a wedding, bridegrooms and best men : 
 
 The service but the prelude to the mirth. 
 
 But maidens in elaborate toilets dressed 
 
 T attend on solemn Christian ordinance, 
 
 Professing to renounce all worldly ways, 
 
 Yet studying to gain the world's applause, 
 
 Is such unchristian art, that I protest 
 
 It is but mocking Christian ordinance, 
 
 Affronting what is holy and divine, 
 
 By masquerading in such antic guise. 
 
 But churches must be built, and chapels too 
 (Except that "chapels" all are "churches" now) ; 
 And money must be had to pay the cost ; 
 And other things are wanted organs, choirs, 
 New steeples, " altar-cloths " or candlesticks, 
 Or other decoration requisite, 
 Or quite as useless, be it either way, 
 For Church of England or Dissenting need ; 
 And soon the money .shall forthcoming be. 
 Our plan is excellent, and takes all round. 
 A fancy fair is just the very thing ! 
 Xo\v see the stalls set out, and all most gay 
 With every trifle art or folly forms. 
 Dolls, workbags, pincushions, and frippery 
 ( )f every useful and most useless sort ;
 
 126 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Knick-knacks both whimsical and most grotesque, 
 
 Sold to advance Religion's sacred cause 
 
 At prices costly and exorbitant ! 
 
 Behind the stalls sweet ladies sit or stand, 
 
 Smiling or coaxing as they show their wares, 
 
 And try to tempt the money from your purse. 
 
 Thus vying with each other to sell most ; 
 
 The sweetest smile and voice most musical 
 
 Being most sure to win that contest's prize. 
 
 But does Religion need for her high aims 
 
 Such adventitious help ? To overcome 
 
 The world, must she the world's own weapons use ? 
 
 To lure from seeking earthly vanities, 
 
 Must she urge vanities on your regard ? 
 
 Or will not those for whom she spreads her lures 
 
 Give money willingly for her dear sake ? 
 
 Then let their money perish with themselves ; 
 
 For money given in religion's cause, 
 
 Under some false pretence, or if cajoled 
 
 And conjured by some clever trickery, 
 
 Can never be acceptable to God, 
 
 And does dishonour to His holy name 
 
 By specious pretext of so serving Him. 
 
 These things were all unknown and undevised 
 In those less vaunting, less assertive days. 
 The waters which run deep may yet be still. 
 Not always where most noise is most effect. 
 Now we must always tell, with trumpet voice, 
 Our mighty works of Zeal for God and man. 
 " Lo here !" " Lo there !" the cry assails our ears 
 On every side, and with a Jehu shout, 
 " Come see my zeal now for the Lord of hosts." 
 A thousand weekly prints must tell the tale
 
 NOON-DAY. 127 
 
 Of our " success " in " Missions " of all kinds, 
 
 In works of every sort, to every class, 
 
 Almost to every trade, and every age. 
 
 Sectarian zeal out-elbows charity, 
 
 And " churches " rivalling stand side by side. 
 
 Politics, too, usurp the pulpit's right, 
 
 And rival politicians shout aloud 
 
 Their nostrums even in the House of Prayer. 
 
 What now should be the course of future life 
 In which my steps should tread momentous choice ! 
 Should it be any secular pursuit 
 By which I might perchance amass much wealth, 
 Or seek the path of fame professional ? 
 Anxious the thought with which the parents' breasts 
 Heaved sadly ; anxious more perhaps my own. 
 They would not urge the choice, but left me free 
 To follow up the bent of my own mind. 
 Nor was there need for haste ; but better far 
 That time and circumstance should guide the choice. 
 In one direction only ran my will ; 
 But ever still more strongly in that one. 
 Might it be mine to tell with living voice 
 Those mighty themes which brought new life to me ; 
 To feed the flock of God by living streams ; 
 The flock He purchased with His dying blood ; 
 To spend the life in study of all truth, 
 And in declaring what had been so learned ; 
 To tell to sinful men what grace had done, 
 To seek and save the wretched and the lost ; 
 To see them snatched as burning brands from fire ; 
 The lost ones found, the dead brought back to life ; 
 This was to me of all careers the best :
 
 128 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Than wealth, or fame, or honour, better far. 
 
 But had God's Spirit moved me to that choice ? 
 
 That would be seen by waiting on His will ; 
 
 Using the means for service He might give. 
 
 So other means were tried, and city life 
 
 And city men came under my survey. 
 
 The counting-house and warehouse showed me how 
 
 The men of commerce bought and sold their wares ; 
 
 The bank and the exchange before my view 
 
 Showed what vast wealth accumulates by trade. 
 
 But not in these things would I spend my days ; 
 
 And I turned from them with a sickening heart. 
 
 Then came the days of quiet college life 
 
 With brother students, kindred in pursuit. 
 
 Pleasant those groves of learned Academe ! 
 
 And soon there came the years of public life ; 
 
 The pastor's care, the preacher's toilsome work. 
 
 Now must be made the final, lasting choice 
 
 Between Free Churches and Established Church. 
 
 Either to take, with my forefathers strong, 
 
 A place unhonoured in the world's esteem 
 
 Among the Nonconformists of the land, 
 
 Or seek preferment and the world's applause 
 
 Where hands episcopal upon my head 
 
 Would give me right to stand. But was I not, 
 
 In conscience, head, and heart, already bound 
 
 With Nonconformity to stand or fall ? 
 
 Say, Muse, for well thou knowest, by what law, 
 Drawn from the written word, the record true 
 Of Christ's enactments for His Church on earth, 
 Has any church the right to claim to be 
 Superior to another ; or to have 
 Precedence and authority by law
 
 NOON-DAY. 129 
 
 Of man's enactment, and in any land 
 
 To claim the right of an Established Church ? 
 
 Who gave to any man the right to be 
 
 Lord of the consciences of other men ? 
 
 To say what form of government alone 
 
 Should be acknowledged as of right divine ? 
 
 Or form of worship ? Who gave civil power 
 
 The right to legislate in holy things ? 
 
 These are the questions we have right to ask 
 
 'Till they are answered so conclusively, 
 
 That common-sense and reason must convict 
 
 A man of heresy and schism indeed 
 
 Who to a Church established so by law 
 
 Would not conform. But evermore so long 
 
 As our demand cannot be satisfied, 
 
 We still shall hold the law of Christ supreme 
 
 And say " establishment " is not from Heaven. 
 
 But not alone because adulterous bond 
 Between the Church and State warned us away, 
 Did we the Church of England's gates forsake. 
 Her doctrines, sound and true and good on most 
 Disputed points between contending schools 
 Of theologians, on other some 
 We deemed were most unsound and mischievous. 
 That Baptism regenerates ; not taught indeed 
 In Article the seven-and-twentieth, 
 But with distinct and indiscriminate 
 Assertion in the Service for the same 
 Boldly declared, we held to be most false ; 
 And not more false than fatally perverse. 
 Yet on this false and fatally perverse 
 Assertion does the Church of England rest. 
 All the baptised, at least within her bounds, 
 
 i
 
 130 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Are members of the Church, and only they. 
 
 The bishop's hands upon the youthful heads 
 
 In after years " confirms " them so to be. 
 
 Eecite the creed, and parrot-like repeat 
 
 The prayer taught by our blessed Lord Himself, 
 
 The Ten Commandments, and the Catechism, 
 
 And promise what you do not understand, 
 
 And vow what you have never thought upon, 
 
 All glibly uttered, you are then " confirmed," 
 
 And openly received into the Church, 
 
 And free to every sacred ordinance. 
 
 All this, although there may not have been given 
 
 One single sign of godliness within. 
 
 Is this true Christian fellowship ? Is this 
 
 The mode sanctioned by Christ, and carried out 
 
 By strict obedience to His great command ? 
 
 " Go and baptise " indeed was His behest ; 
 
 But how ? and whom ? Not every one, forsooth ? 
 
 " Believe and be baptised," the record runs. 
 
 Not make believers by baptising them ; 
 
 But being made baptise them then indeed. 
 
 Were this command more carefully obeyed 
 
 Our Churches would be other than they are, 
 
 And more would represent the mind of Christ. 
 
 But human error first perverts the truth ; 
 
 Then changes truth for error ; and at last 
 
 Denounces truth and loudly vaunts the lie. 
 
 "When did apostles so baptise of old ? 
 
 Or charge it on their preachers after them 
 
 To make all dwellers in a town the Church ? 
 
 I gainsay not that 'tis a noble Church ; 
 The Church established here in England's land ; 
 A Church of venerable names, and rich
 
 NOON-DAY. 131 
 
 In noble deeds of truly Christian fame ; 
 
 A Church whose hoary age has not impaired 
 
 The vigour of her youth ; but in her age 
 
 Renews her youth with more than eagle power. 
 
 Illustrious are the names upon the roll 
 
 In which she keeps the records of her sons 
 
 Who have adorned the Christian name and faith. 
 
 She boasts an Alfred and an Ethelbert 
 
 E'en in the days of that old Heptarchy ; 
 
 And Winifrid of apostolic fame, 
 
 And the Confessor Edward, almost saint, 
 
 Ere came the Norman Conquest and its woes. 
 
 And more illustrious names come afterwards. 
 
 Anselm and venerable Bede adorn 
 
 Her annals in her days of infancy ; 
 
 And glorious Wycliffe beamed upon the world 
 
 The Reformation's bright and morning star ; 
 
 Paling the feeble light of Bradwardine, 
 
 A lesser star, but bright with light of Heaven. 
 
 And compeers worthy even they may claim. 
 
 Long had she lain obscured by Popish gloom, 
 
 Her beauty marred, sullied her purity, 
 
 By such traditions as mere childish eld, 
 
 Would prattle to unlearned listeners ; 
 
 And mediaeval ignorance invent. 
 
 But Wycliffe's gleam betokened coming day. 
 
 Then Luther, trumpet-tongued, denounced old Rome : 
 
 Mother of harlots ! Antichrist most proud ! 
 
 The slumbering Church awoke, shook off its bonds, 
 
 And bowed its ear to hear the Word of God. 
 
 " What saitli the Lord ?" became the inquiry then. 
 
 " Thiis saith the Church," had been the cry before. 
 
 The Reformation's morning brought the day ;
 
 132 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Then England's Church threw off the foreign yoke ; 
 
 Deeming obedience to the Lord of all 
 
 Her bounden duty, and renounced the Pope. 
 
 Ah ! happy had she been if most entire 
 
 Had been the obedience that henceforth she gave 
 
 Unto the Church's Head and Lord Himself. 
 
 But the eighth Henry sent his mandate forth, 
 
 And claimed to be, within his realm's bounds, 
 
 Head of the Church, and ruler over all, 
 
 The Church's members all his subjects too. 
 
 And thus by royal act, if not before, 
 
 The Church of England with the State was wed ; 
 
 Alliance all unholy in our view. 
 
 We deem the law of Christ, the written Word, 
 
 Enough to settle all the Church's needs ; 
 
 Nay, to contain, expressly there laid down, 
 
 The rights and duties of the Church of Christ. 
 
 All of man's adding, with audacious hand, 
 
 Does but infringe upon the Sovereign right 
 
 Of the one Church's risen Lord and Head. 
 
 But in free England a free Parliament 
 
 Makes laws which govern Church as well as State ; 
 
 Nor has a power ecclesiastical 
 
 Existence in this happy land of ours 
 
 Which can make laws without the State's control. 
 
 Therefore the Church " established " is by law ; 
 
 And therefore is it we dissent from it. 
 
 Yet we acknowledge it to be a Church ; 
 
 A part, at least, of Christ's own holy Church 
 
 So far as it contains the truth of Christ. 
 
 Nor oilier Church besides but only so. 
 
 The Reformation thus left her enthralled : 
 
 She changed her rulers, but she kept her chains.
 
 NOON-DA Y. 133 
 
 How bright the constellation of great names 
 Which claim our notice in those stirring times ! 
 Cranmer and Latimer and Eidley then, 
 With Jewel and with Hooper, meet our view : 
 With Eowland Taylor, and with many who 
 The martyrs' " noble army " have supplied. 
 Great preachers have her pulpits occupied : 
 The terse and pungent Hall, the witty South, 
 Jeremy Taylor with the golden mouth ; 
 Hooker judicious, and the learned Bull. 
 Nor let me overlook such honoured names 
 As Stillingfleet, and Tillotson, and Hales 
 Of Eton, Henry Smith, and many more. 
 And surely those who have upheld 
 Most earnestly the gospel's saving lamp 
 Are worthy of the homage I can give. 
 Newton and Hervey ; also Thomas Scott, 
 Berridge and Toplady, and all the Venns, 
 With Simeon and Charles of Bala too. 
 But time and space would fail to number them, 
 Whose number is a number numberless. 
 And there are mighty names of living men 
 It were invidious to mention here, 
 Not clerical alone but also lay. 
 What multitudes of her illustrious sons 
 Shine in a galaxy of noble names ? 
 Here to record them would but be to fill 
 My pages with bare lists, and still to cry 
 They come ! and coming, still come without end. 
 Most painful is it to dissent from these ; 
 Yet conscience must and will assert her sway. 
 If fortune, fashion, and the beaten path 
 Where thronging crowds pursue the pleasant way
 
 134 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Be rule and guide, then with them we must go. 
 
 But if, when conscience bids, we turn aside, 
 
 And ask for counsel from the written Word, 
 
 Another path, less thronged, must we pursue, 
 
 And follow that in God's most holy Book 
 
 Laid plainly down. A cross may meet us there ; 
 
 A cross which we must bear, and carry for 
 
 His sake who bore and carried His for us. 
 
 The true disciple is not he who walks 
 
 Where others walk, simply because they do ; 
 
 But he who asks the way with anxious heed 
 
 Lest he forsake the path of truth, and leave 
 
 The track his Master trod through scorn and shame. 
 
 Yet those whom conscience leads in lonely ways 
 
 Must reckon on the world's disdain and scorn. 
 
 'T is they must make the sacrifice of much 
 
 The world most highly prizes, and become 
 
 Of all things the offscouring and the scum. 
 
 How little think the votaries of the " Church " 
 
 Of what is sacrificed by those they scorn ! 
 
 As if the world's approval were enough 
 
 To satisfy the claims of every man 
 
 Who calls himself a Christian ; and her frown 
 
 More to be dreaded than the Master's own ! 
 
 " Dissenter " and " schismatic " are enough 
 
 To make an outcast from " Society," 
 
 To whom, not conscience, but " the proper thing," 
 
 Meets recognition and the friendly hand. 
 
 A man may be a scholar and a saint ; 
 
 Have every virtue found in mortal man, 
 
 And every charm of manners and of life, 
 
 Save perhaps wealth, and honours wealth can buy ; 
 
 But if a " Nonconformist " he be called
 
 NO ON- DAY. 135 
 
 The penalty he pays of being cast 
 
 Out from " Society's " select parterre, 
 
 With "heathen men" and "publicans" to take his place. 
 
 " The Church," I know, will plead in her behalf, 
 
 How " low and vulgar " most dissenters are. 
 
 I grant that it is true. Would it were not ! 
 
 Yet such I own that most dissenters are. 
 
 But stay, my honoured Church of England friend, 
 
 Is it surprising that it should be so ? 
 
 You know the record God's most holy Word ; 
 
 You hear and read it every Sabbath day ; 
 
 If not on every day throughout the week ; 
 
 And you acknowledge it the Word of God. 
 
 What is the testimony that it bears 
 
 To this unhappy state of social things ? 
 
 " You know your calling, brethren," it declares ; 
 
 " Not many wise," as this world counts men wise ; 
 
 " Not many noble," in the world's esteem ; 
 
 " Not many mighty," of her famous men ; 
 
 Are found among the few approved of God. 
 
 But He hath " clwsen" for His own elect, 
 
 Those whom the world regards not ; whom she scorns 
 
 As " mean " and " base," as " foolish " and as " weak," 
 
 To carry out His great designs ; for she 
 
 Has all the might and wisdom on her side ; 
 
 The noble and the great are hers alone. 
 
 Now take your choice, my friend, for you must choose ; 
 Either the World, or those the world detests ! 
 You see that God Himself has made His choice. 
 You must make yours ; and make it as you please. 
 You choose the World ? Then hear His final word : 
 " Tlie friendship of the World is enmity 
 With God" " Who loves the World, cannot love God."
 
 136 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 " It hated Him ; it therefore will hate us" 
 " Love not the World ; neither love Worldly things ; " 
 " It knew not Him ; and therefore knows not u.x." 
 So make your choice ! 'T is hard indeed, I know, 
 To bear the scorn and hatred of the world. 
 Yet did He bear it whom the world knew not. 
 Shall the disciple be above his Lord ? 
 Shall he complain who knows the Saviour's love ? 
 Ask the World's favour ! Go with Fashion's throng ! 
 Tread the broad path, for multitudes go there ! 
 But do not call Him Master and your Lord 
 Whom you dishonour by your worldliness ; 
 Scorning His yoke ; nor treading in His steps 
 The strait and steep and rugged path He trod. 
 If with the World you choose to take your way, 
 Then the World's doom shall meet you in the end. 
 
 My choice was made, God helping me, I trust. 
 Was it not Moses' choice in other shape ? 
 How strong to him the great temptation was 
 With Pharaoh's splendid court to take his place ! 
 " The son of Pharaoh's daughter " to be called I 
 But he refused the princely honour proud ; 
 And with a poor afflicted people took 
 His unrepining lot. And why so act ? 
 Would he not be a fool unreasoning deemed, 
 Such honours to forego, and meet reproach, 
 And suffer shame and fierce derision's scorn ? 
 But that reproach he suffered for Christ's sake ; 
 Esteeming it above all earthly good 
 And Egypt's treasures, whether rank or wealth. 
 What was my sacrifice compared with his ?
 
 Eoolt tlje &tj;tb.
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 The Pastor's Charge Undertaken with Fear and Trembling 
 An Experience of Sorrow My First Charge Ordination 
 First Love Removal to Ongar A Description of the 
 Little Town First Visit to Ongar Harden Ash Mr. and 
 Mrs. Gilbert Isaac Taylor Mrs. Taylor "Sweet Auburn" 
 Stanford Rivers Delightful Reminiscences Friendships 
 and Social Converse The Changes that have come Hope 
 of Reunion Dark Days following First Marriage 
 Anxious Days Expectation and Disappointment The 
 Darkest Day The Shadow upon the After Years A 
 Motherless Babe All on Earth a Dream The Night of 
 Weeping and the Morning of Joy Summary of this 
 "Retrospect."
 
 VI. 
 
 A DARKENING SKY-CLOUDS 
 AND STORMS. 
 
 " The path of sorrow, and that path alone, 
 Leads to the land where sorrow is unknown : 
 No traveller e'er reached that blest abode 
 Who found not thorns and briers in his road." 
 
 IS not," indeed, " a charge of small import, 
 The pastor's care demands;" and who can be 
 Well-fitted for such charge? Who undertakes 
 That work had need be truly called, and moved 
 By inward motion of the Holy Ghost 
 To take upon him such a ministry. 
 
 Most " clear," indeed, should " his credentials " be ! 
 
 A true conversion : soundness in the faith : 
 
 Christian experience beyond his years : 
 
 A life exemplary in piety : 
 
 And solid learning : are not all enough. 
 
 Aptness to teach he needs, as having learned 
 
 Himself, that he might others soundly teach : 
 
 Utterance also, and the fluent speech 
 
 Of one whose tongue is as the docile pen 
 
 The ready-writer wields : a tender heart 
 
 To sympathise with mourning hearts around ;
 
 140 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Prudence, and patience, and much fortitude ; 
 Skill to attract, fidelity to warn, 
 A watchful, prayerful, humble spirit too ; 
 Distrustful of himself, yet strong in faith ; 
 With knowledge of the heart, and ways of men ; 
 These are but some of those most needful gifts 
 Without which none should deem himself .so called. 
 But if, without mere rash and vain surmise, 
 After deep searching of the heart within, 
 And modest heed of what his fellow men, 
 Of better sort, are pleased to say of him ; 
 With Providence directing, as God's hand ; 
 Then let him, trusting in Almighty aid, 
 This great and awful work so undertake. 
 
 I trusted it was so with me indeed. 
 And after forty years I trust so still. 
 Years dark with sorrow most of them have been ; 
 But sorrow's teaching has been best of all. 
 Early the clouds gathered around my course ; 
 And midnight darkness soon obscured my way. 
 I needed it : and deem the discipline 
 Of grief and tears most needful to us all. 
 Say not it was the Lord's rebuke to me. 
 Not so I read the record of His love. 
 For " whom He loveth He correcteth " still. 
 And if no chastening from His gracious hand 
 Come to His servants, servants they may be, 
 But not His children ; every son of His 
 Whom He receives to His parental care 
 Does He correct by suffering and tears. 
 Even the Lord Himself, the only Son 
 Of Deity partaker, equally
 
 A DARKENING SKY. 141 
 
 Divine, begotten from eternity, 
 
 Most well beloved, and the bright image too 
 
 Of the Almighty Father ; even He, 
 
 Though Son, one with the Father every way, 
 
 Yet learned e'en He obedience by the things 
 
 He suffered in compliance with the will 
 
 Of His dear Father ; and by suffering 
 
 Was He made perfect* as our Advocate. 
 
 Therefore it is most right, and meet and best, 
 
 That they whom God's election duly calls 
 
 To follow closely in their Master's steps, 
 
 Like Him should be by sorrow disciplined 
 
 To bear their part in that most holy work 
 
 In which the Lord Himself deigned to take part. 
 
 The mind that was in Him must be in them. 
 
 Of all disciples, they should learn the most, 
 
 That they may teach the more ; and bear the cross, 
 
 As He bore His, in sorrow and in shame. 
 
 Young, timid, inexperienced in the world, 
 At length I sought some field of labour fit, 
 And, after trials various, I found 
 What seemed to promise large and rich reward. 
 Kindly the introduction had been given, 
 By one most honoured and beloved of those 
 levered as fathers by our churches then : 
 Revered be evermore his memory ! 
 A congregation numerous, but poor ; 
 Earnest, affectionate, and not ill-taught, 
 Solicited my services, and heard 
 With joy my youthful ministrations there ; 
 * Hebrews v. 8, 9.
 
 I 4 2 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 And I became their pastor ; for they all 
 With an unanimous and urgent voice 
 Gave suffrage, praying that it so might be. 
 Both new and neat, commodious and compact, 
 But plain, though well-built of substantial stone, 
 Such was the sanctuary where we met, 
 And where, thrice every Sabbath-day, my voice 
 Was heard proclaiming the sweet Gospel's sound. 
 Great was their love, and often tears bespoke 
 How much their hearts had felt the Heaven-sent word. 
 And for a time I laboured on with joy ; 
 For I was young, and ardent in the work. 
 But before long my strength began to yield. 
 Three heavy services on each Lord's-day, 
 With three of week-day services beside, 
 And pastoral toil among a scattered flock, 
 At length the youthful pastor prostrate laid. 
 Eest was enjoined ; they cheerfully complied, 
 And months of patient waiting they endured. 
 Then came a brief return, relapse, and then 
 Enforced retirement from that active scene. 
 But when the call was given to undertake 
 The pastoral charge of that expectant flock, 
 And when at length I yielded to that call, 
 Then came the time for being set apart 
 By solemn ordination to the work 
 Of one who ministers in holy things. 
 Large was the gathering then of reverend men 
 Who to that office came to set their hands. 
 Large also was the assembly on the day 
 Fixed for the ordination ; for from far 
 And near they came and crowded seats and aisles.
 
 A DARKENING SKY. 143 
 
 The service long, was not howe'er too long 
 For pastors or for people ; for it was 
 A day of festival and holy joy. 
 First prayer and exposition of the Word 
 Engaged devout attention ; followed next 
 By the confession of the pastor's faith, 
 And clear reply to solemn questioning. 
 And thus the nature of a Christian Church 
 Was fully stated ; and the reasons shown 
 For that relationship now entered on. 
 Then came the awful ordination prayer ; 
 The special act ordaining to the work ; 
 When round the youthful pastor, kneeling there, 
 The presbyters drew near, and laid their hands 
 Upon his trembling head : one most esteemed 
 And honoured above others of them all 
 A foremost preacher, and almost a saint 
 By earnest prayer commending me to God, 
 And pleading for the Holy Spirit's aid. 
 Then came the " charge," addressed to me alone ; 
 Weighty and tender ; full of ripened thought ; 
 Urging wise counsels ; not severe or stern, 
 But as a father counselling a son, 
 Giving both warning and encouragement ; 
 The head, the heart, the lips, all full of grace. 
 Another service followed in short space, 
 In which the people were reminded too 
 Of duties that their pastor claimed from tlum ; 
 While prayer and praise, joining their holy hands, 
 Sent incense of sweet savour up to Heaven. 
 Thus passed that most eventful day to me. 
 Then followed the brief years of ministry
 
 144 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Among that people ; and then came the day 
 When I must leave them, and awhile retire. 
 Oh, when the last and great account shall come, 
 May some rich fruit of this poor work appear ! 
 Pardon, O Lord, thy servant's negligence, 
 And all those faults that Thou alone dost know. 
 His best attempts need the atoning blood : 
 Oh, how much more the folly, guilt, and shame ! 
 
 Meantime at Worcester I had been a guest 
 Once and again at the good Doctor's house. 
 And in that city visiting had met 
 One who impressed me as no other had : 
 A lady gracious, fair, and kind, and good. 
 I saw and loved her. And I sought her hand, 
 Seeking kind mediation of a friend 
 To whom, assured of sympathy, I told 
 The story of my love. But never runs 
 The course of true love smoothly ; so it was 
 I found in my own case. I gained her love, 
 But weary years must pass ere I could win 
 The gentle hand I sought to be my own. 
 Meanwhile, recovered health gave me again 
 The choice of pastoral work in various scenes 
 Of holy labour in the Master's work. 
 Yet difficulties often interposed 
 Ere yet the call was given : or if given 
 Prohibited response affirmative. 
 At length a little town of classic fame 
 And favoured above most, in many ways, 
 But chiefly that its name is intertwined 
 With those of writers learned, wise, and good. 
 Taylors of Ongar ! will the name e'er die ?
 
 A DARKENING SKY. 145 
 
 And at that time, in zenith of his fame, 
 Lived Isaac Taylor, greatest of the name, 
 At Stanford Eivers, his secluded home. 
 Auspicious was the day that took me down 
 To visit Ongar, and to stay awhile, 
 That to the small unpastored flock I might 
 Minister faithfully in holy things. 
 Far down amidst the Essex plains there lies 
 A little town, a village it might seem ; 
 While all around are woods and pleasant fields, 
 Where nibbling sheep and lowing oxen feed. 
 T is but a single street ; from end to end 
 Is hardly half a mile ; but clean and neat, 
 And with an aspect of the well-to-do. 
 Its lowliest cottages no squalor have ; 
 But in their trim array seem the abodes 
 Of health and comfort. Here and there appear 
 Houses of better class, good English homes 
 Of those whose hands with labour are unsoilrd. 
 And some there are where elegance and wealth 
 Unfold their stores, and luxury holds sw;iy. 
 Just in the centre, hidden from the street, 
 There stands the parish church, plain and severe 
 In outward guise, simple and plain within. 
 As best becomes a house for worship built, 
 The worship of the true and living (;<><!. 
 Who, as a Spirit, will have worship paid 
 In spirit and in truth, and only so. 
 Hard by, the rectory stands, retired, yet neur 
 The house of worship, so as best to suit 
 Convenience of the pastor, and to place 
 The shepherd in the midst of all his flock. 
 
 K
 
 146 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 A step beyond, rises the Castle hill, 
 Where whilom stood a fortress, stern and strong, 
 Encircled by its moat, broad, deep, and still ; 
 A fortress stern and strong in troublous times ; 
 And now a tufted mass of waving trees 
 Presents a lovelier aspect to the eye. 
 Beneath the shadow of that Castle hill 
 Is seen a goodly house, proportioned fair, 
 Which, when the Castle old dismantled was, 
 Beseemed the manor lords to dwell therein. 
 And there, in later days, the Taylors dwelt ; 
 Three daughters and one son were juniors then 
 In that select and favoured family. 
 Not far away, retired as the church, 
 Modest and humble in its outward guise, 
 Behold the meeting-house, which long had had 
 Pastors and preachers of no mean renown. 
 A Taylor and a Cecil, both of them 
 Men of no common mark, had for a time 
 Taught in its pulpit as but few could teach ; 
 And fragrant is their memory even now. 
 
 Yes ! those were happy days, so long ago, 
 When, quite a stranger, from the distant town, 
 Th' expected guest, by the slow lumbering coach, 
 I journeyed in the dreary wintry day ; 
 And, as the grey dusk faded into gloom, 
 Alighted at the hospitable door. 
 Forth came the Master, tall, alert, and frank, 
 And welcomed me to that bright, cheerful home, 
 As who the precept holy would obey, 
 And entertain the stranger as the Lord. 
 
 Can I forget how pleasant was the scene
 
 A DARKENING SKY. 147 
 
 Radiant with kindness ? Comfort and repose 
 There held their court, while elegance and taste 
 Diffused o'er every thing their genial ray. 
 Bright burned upon the hearth the winter fire. 
 With savoury viands groaned the festive board. 
 And there above, in that luxurious room, 
 The downy couch was spread for my tired limbs. 
 Can I forget how sped the hours along 
 In friendly chat, and converse on high themes, 
 With sparkling wit enlivened grave and gay ! 
 How one received me she, the mistress there, 
 Whose presence would have brightened any home ; 
 She, in whom graces all combined to dwell, 
 In whom was beauty with refinement joined, 
 With virtue, culture, and religion true ? 
 Her form was stately ; placid was her mien ; 
 Lively her sallies, with her beaming smile ; 
 Lustrous her eyes, bright with benignity ; 
 Her voice was musical with softened tones ; 
 Her hair was glossy as the raven's wing ; 
 For she had passed from out my view ere yet 
 The snows of after years fell lightly there. 
 Then came the Sabbath and its services, 
 Which led us to the town a mile away ; 
 And tremblingly I sought the little fane 
 Where holy men, in turn, had ministered, 
 And where, in turn, I was to minister. 
 But ere I started on this Sabbath quest, 
 My hand was taken, and a kindly look 
 Was given, by one I stood before with awe ; 
 A man in whom were blended strikingly 
 Fine intellect and goodness ; for I gazed
 
 148 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Upon the face of Isaac Taylor : face 
 
 Where thought severe had traced its lines, but where 
 
 High purpose and fine feeling softened all. 
 
 Then came his wife, much younger than himself, 
 
 And with her came a troop of children fair, 
 
 The youngest but a babe ; all beautiful : 
 
 But she, the mother, fairer than them all. 
 
 sweetest woman was she ! womanly 
 
 In all that makes a woman fair and good. 
 
 Most fair was she, and truly beautiful ; 
 
 But with a rnind as fair as her sweet form ; 
 
 And with a heart all goodness and all truth. 
 
 As with a second youth she seemed endowed, 
 
 And young as her own daughters : with the charm 
 
 Which only purity and love can give. 
 
 They were a pair such as is rarely seen. 
 
 His visage beaming with intelligence 
 
 Of brightest lustre, mellowed and refined. 
 
 Her beauty all suffused with tenderness ; 
 
 Sweetness and loveliness in mingled grace. 
 
 Ah ! my " sweet Auburn !" sweet indeed to me. 
 " Sweet Auburn ! loveliest village of the plain !" 
 " There is no beauty there," the cynic cries ; 
 " Where are your mountain peaks, your deep ravines, 
 Your winding vales, your rivers broad and strong, 
 Your lakes expansive, or your hanging woods, 
 Or aught what makes a landscape beautiful ? " 
 Ah ! where ? or rather, where are eyes to see 
 Ten thousand forms of loveliness around ; 
 Loveliness most attractive ? Verdure here 
 Makes an Arcadia. Here pastoral scenes 
 Set fancy looking for the swains of old,
 
 A DARKENING SKY. 149 
 
 Phillis and Corydon and Thyrsites 
 
 And Amaryllis, and all Virgil's tribe 
 
 Of shepherds and their shepherdesses fair, 
 
 Instead of Essex peasants. Tuneful reeds 
 
 One's ears might listen to when fancy willed : 
 
 And in " Midsummer Night's " weird golden " Dream," 
 
 Oberon and Titania and their elves 
 
 Might seem to dance among the woodland shades. 
 
 The little town, its red roofs peeping low 
 Amidst the foliage which embosoms it ; 
 The tiny spire ; the frowning Castle Hill ; 
 The houses quaint with many gabled forms, 
 "Where dwelt erewhile the gifted and the good ; 
 The pleasant fields where devious footpaths led 
 My steps to many a sweet sequestered spot, 
 But chiefly Stanford Elvers, that abode 
 "Which Isaac Taylor's fame has classic made ; 
 And many another well-remembered nook 
 Of rural quietude, and sylvan charm ; 
 These haunt my memory in my saddest hours, 
 Like stars which gleam from out the moonless sky. 
 
 Nor let me fail to mention lovingly 
 The little flock which claimed my tending hand. 
 They were not many ; nor were all alike ; 
 But all deserve regardful memory. 
 None were there rich, and some were very poor ; 
 Some very worthy : some most excellent. 
 Most gladly would I there have spent my days, 
 Had health and means allowed, for sake of her 
 "Whose heart was mine : and mine indeed her troth. 
 I still was young : not five and twenty years 
 Had I yet seen when Ongar was my home :
 
 150 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 While full of hope and ardour I would seek 
 
 Some larger work with much more ample means. 
 
 Yet most reluctantly I left the scene 
 
 "With sweet associations clustered round. 
 
 But chiefly Stanford Rivers ; and then next 
 
 Sweet Marden Ash, Josiah Gilbert's home ; 
 
 Where I found friendship most congenial ; 
 
 The choice abode of culture and of worth. 
 
 How beautiful appeared in summer days 
 
 That charming home ! Upon the hill it stood 
 
 Where first the little town comes into view, 
 
 Begirt with woods and fields on every side. 
 
 And that fair garden's round of rural joy; 
 
 The lawn so trimly decked with shrubs and flowers ; 
 
 And winding walks the sylvan shades among ; 
 
 The charming views o'er woodland and o'er lea, 
 
 Of Eoding valley, and the lordly seat 
 
 Of Waldegrave : mansions and cottages, 
 
 Near or remote. And beauty everywhere. 
 
 These, with the blush of flowers, the song of birds, 
 
 The play of light and shadow, and the charm 
 
 Of stillness and seclusion, made indeed 
 
 A home of happiness, a fair retreat 
 
 For studious thought, or artist's skilful hand ; 
 
 The very spot that, could they choose their own, 
 
 Taste and contentment joined would surely choose. 
 
 Taste and contentment had my cultured friend. 
 
 Even a Gilbert could ask nothing more ! 
 
 Scotia may show us mountains " stern and wild " ; 
 Killarney, smiling through her tears, her lakes ; 
 Cumbria her fair array of lakes and hills ; 
 Fair Devon lovely vales 'neath humid skies ;
 
 A DARKENING SKY. 151 
 
 While through Italia stretch those golden plains 
 With hoary ruins spread, beneath a sky 
 Of bright unclouded blue ; and Switzerland 
 Combine all forms, within its cantons blest, 
 Of grandeur and of beauty giant Alps, 
 Cloud-piercing peaks wrapped in eternal snow, 
 And lakes like bits of heaven enclosed for man 
 In every form of beauty heart could wish, 
 Or mind could picture : but rny faith is still 
 That on our English ground no lovelier spot, 
 Take it for all in all, can e'er be found, 
 Than the sweet neighbourhood of Harden Ash, 
 And Chipping Ongar and its environs. 
 
 But what enhanced and brightened, gladdened all 
 Was the sweet converse held with those I loved. 
 Ah ! all too short, too good and fair to last ; 
 Too much Elysian for this darksome world. 
 Our fading joys are shadows of the joys 
 That never fade ; the best the earth can give 
 Is but the image, faint and dim indeed, 
 Of the eternal Light and Love and Joy. 
 
 And thus when first I came to Marden Asli 
 Swiftly sped on the months and seasons four ; 
 The changeful seasons of the rolling year 
 In all its changes, through its seasons four ; 
 Its tender green, its wealth of verdure, and 
 Its russet hues ; and then its spotless shroud, 
 Alike o'er field and woodland, peaceful vale 
 And quiet town, enwrapping all beneath 
 Its robe of peerless, virgin purity. 
 
 Now, not the seasons of the rolling year 
 Alone have sped, but rolling years themselves,
 
 152 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Like as a tale is told, their onward way. 
 Many my wand'rings in those after years ; 
 And joys and sorrows quickly came to me. 
 But wheresoe'er my lot was cast, remote 
 Or near, " my heart still fondly turned to thee," 
 Sweet Marden Ash, and that fair little town, 
 Which, like a planet with its satellites, 
 Gathered around it spots so fair as these. 
 
 Once and again since then have I been there. 
 Undying friendship wooed me to those scenes, 
 To me so dear, endearing but the more. 
 I loved, perhaps, " not wisely, but too well." 
 New friends I found, and found in them a host ; 
 Not to replace the old, but to add wealth 
 To my small store of friends, the old and new. 
 But though as " stranger or as guest," be all 
 My sojourn there, and not as one " at home, ' 
 Strange or familiar, near, or more remote, 
 Still, shall I ever love sweet Marden Ash ; 
 Still, shall I ever love the little town ; 
 Still, shall I ever love the little flock ; 
 Though other shepherds lead " to pastures new." 
 
 Oh ! who may probe the sorrows of that heart 
 Which, torn and bleeding, yet must ever love ? 
 Now Stanford Rivers is no more the home 
 Of Isaac Taylor and his charming wife. 
 Slie early passed away to the abode 
 Of blessedness and of undying love. 
 His venerable head was soon laid low. 
 Beneath the churchyard sod, in quiet rest, 
 Both lie, and daughters also with them there ; 
 The village churchyard shaded o'er with trees
 
 A DARKENING SKY. 153 
 
 . . .sat 
 
 Which in long avenue up to the~pbrch 
 Extend in shade, and shelter every side. 
 Lonely and quiet is their resting-place ; 
 Yet almost in the view of their own home. 
 And thus I mourn in this sad Eetrospect, 
 For these the loved and lost, not least by me. 
 But there shall come a time for which we wait, 
 When suffering, sorrow, sin, shall be no more ; 
 When partings all shall cease, and joy be full. 
 With bleeding heart I look upon the past. 
 Strong in the hope that maketh not ashamed 
 I wait the future. Overcast the past 
 With disappointment and bereavement dire ; 
 And tinged with sadness all these later years. 
 But all that gives us joy and blessing here, 
 Shall give them multiplied and endless there. 
 
 How shall I tell the tale of after years ? 
 Years full of change and sorrow ? Midnight gloom 
 Succeeding midday brightness. Or as when 
 The effulgent beams of noon in early Spring 
 Are quenched in sweeping showers with chilling blasts. 
 So came the days of brightness and of hope. 
 Our hands were joined in holy wedded love, 
 And we looked forward to a happy life. 
 No sweeter bride e'er graced an earthly home ; 
 And she was worthy of the strongest love. 
 She linked her lot with mine, without reserve. 
 Better or worse, richer or poorer, she 
 Unchanged in love and sympathy would be, 
 Save that the briars which bestrewed our path
 
 154 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 But made her heart more tender, her more kind. 
 
 My other self, my better half, she gave 
 
 New interest and charm to daily life. 
 
 No word of bitterness escaped her lips ; 
 
 No selfish action ever moved her hands ; 
 
 No peevish disposition marred her face. 
 
 A sweet benignity beamed from her eyes ; 
 
 Gentle and soft the language of her lips ; 
 
 Tender and loving, her whole life was love. 
 
 For such a wife what would not one attempt ? 
 
 Both dare and do ? But disappointment came, 
 
 Yet never came reproach or taunt from her : 
 
 Far readier were her tears of sympathy, 
 
 Her sweet encouragement and cheery smile. 
 
 A western county was our early home, 
 
 But ours not long ; and then came long suspense, 
 
 Alternate hope and fear, and anxious doubt. 
 
 Many the pulpits I was asked to fill : 
 
 Many in London, in the country some 
 
 Which asked for learning, talent, eloquence, 
 
 And might dismay a worthier than myself. 
 
 Gratitude bids me mention with respect 
 
 The kind encouragement and ready aid 
 
 A Collyer, Bennett, and a Gilbert gave 
 
 In seeking a fresh pastorate once more ; 
 
 The former two in London, and the last 
 
 At Nottingham ; good, venerable man ! 
 
 His son at Marden Ash was my dear friend, 
 
 And as a son he kindly treated me. 
 
 Meanwhile the weeks and months and years went round, 
 
 And we had but a temporary home, 
 
 My dear wife often left for weeks alone
 
 A DARKENING SKY. 155 
 
 While I was preaching far away, 
 Finding some congregation hard to please, 
 And others quite as hard to please myself. 
 But in the midst of hope and fear and doubt, 
 Of tender, patient, sympathetic love, 
 Pains of maternity came on my wife, 
 Protracted travail with its anguish dire 
 Held in its grasp her tender, fragile frame. 
 A son was born at the dark midnight hour, 
 But the exhausted mother rose no more ; 
 She saw her babe, she kissed him, and she died. 
 
 Forbear, my pen ; the tale I cannot tell ! 
 The loving hand of sorrow draws the veil. 
 That dying couch how can I e'er forget ! 
 Love strong as Death, with Death contending still ! 
 But oh ! her meek submission, holy faith, 
 And Christian hope that brightened all the gloom. 
 Her faith was living faith which could not die, 
 And in that conflict fell she vanquished Death. 
 Hard was the parting, rending limb from limb ; 
 But I, the Mourner, was the crushed one there ; 
 And Death, the fell destroyer, even more. 
 She conquered death, and conquering rose to Heaven. 
 
 Forbear, my muse ! let silence seal these lips 
 Which else would utter only notes of woe ! 
 Its bitterness the heart alone can know ; 
 Nor can a stranger share the bitter grief. 
 Briefly dismiss the theme, and draw the veil. 
 Too sacred is it e'en for friendship's ear. 
 Describe not here the sorrows of that day 
 Which bore her from our home to that dark tomb 
 Nor linger on the widowed husband's lot
 
 i $6 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Left with an infant of but three days old. 
 
 Poor babe ! never to know a mother's love ; 
 
 Bereft of all that most endears a home ! 
 
 Thy gentle grandmother wept over thee, 
 
 And clasped thee to her bosom as her own : 
 
 And aunts, too fondly, took thee 'neath their care. 
 
 But never could a human heart or hand 
 
 Supply thy great illimitable loss ! 
 
 Only the Father of the fatherless, 
 
 And Who the motherless will ne'er forsake, 
 
 Can be sufficient Guardian and Guide 
 
 Through infancy and childhood and ripe age ; 
 
 Or can the loss of soft maternal love 
 
 From His rich, tender, faithful grace supply. 
 
 May but thine eyes ever look up to Him ! 
 
 May He in all thy ways acknowledged be ! 
 
 His care, His guidance, ever may'st thou seek ! 
 
 His word, eternal, be thy confidence ! 
 
 Then shalt thou know how truly blest are they 
 
 Who in the shadow of His wing find rest. 
 
 The world may give thee little, friends be few, 
 
 Dark disappointment follow in thy steps 
 
 If thou forsake the paths of truth and peace ; 
 
 Thy lot be hard, thy way all rugged lie, 
 
 And thou, too, find the world a " vale of tears." 
 
 But the eternal God thy refuge be ! 
 
 And " underneath the everlasting arms " 
 
 Shall bear thee up, and carry to the end. 
 
 He can change midnight darkness into day. 
 
 He can wipe tears from sorrow's streaming eye. 
 
 He can change mourning into endless joy. 
 
 Turn thou, with contrite heart, to Him who smites ;
 
 A DARKENING SKY. 157 
 
 Who doth not willingly afflict or grieve 
 The sons of men. Gracious will He be found, 
 And ready to forgive. His loving smile 
 Shall far outvalue all the world can give. 
 
 So pass earth's best and brightest things away ! 
 A dream, when one awakes, as real is. 
 The brightest and the best may never stay. 
 Bereavement, darkness, mourning, now were mine. 
 Alas ! these things much more enduring are. 
 Lonely and sad my onward way became ; 
 Yet learned I that in sadness there is good. 
 To those who spend in gladness all their days, 
 Who know no sorrow, doth God's holy Book 
 No word of blessing or of promise speak. 
 Those precious lips into which grace was poured 
 In measureless bestowment, " blessed " called 
 " The mourners." Comfort He promised them. 
 Not to the " rich !" the " full !" the " laughers " now ! 
 " Woe !" " woe !" and " woe !" was all He spake to them, 
 Though little heeded by a godless world. 
 Sorrow and sadness with a Father's smile, 
 May turn to joy and fulness of delight ; 
 But faith must have its perfect work meanwhile. 
 Not in themselves or for themselves alone, 
 Will these things work our higher, lasting good. 
 'T is " while we look " with stedfast and fixed gaze, 
 At things " not seen " by unbelieving eyes ; 
 When " faith " makes " evident " the " things not seen," 
 And takes her stand on God's eternal Word, 
 Then does " affliction," howsoe'er severe, 
 Seem "light" indeed, and when but once compared 
 With those enduring things which faith discerns,
 
 158 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 It seems but momentary. But it works 
 Within us meetness for the coming good. 
 Not " light " shall that be, nor shall it endure 
 " But for a moment," as the present grief. 
 For that shall be a " weight " " exceeding far " 
 All that we know of pain and trouble here ; 
 And for the moment's sorrow will exchange 
 An " everlasting " joy, complete and full. 
 
 Here let my record close. The after years 
 Have had perhaps but little to record 
 But sickness, weariness, and ceaseless pain. 
 I stand upon the verge of human life, 
 And threescore years have long been left behind. 
 Nor need I tell what changes I have seen 
 Within the course of those succeeding years. 
 Another wife has blessed my lonely home, 
 And her companionship is with me still. 
 But other children's voices have not stirred 
 The silent echoes of our quiet house, 
 Nor children's hands clasped ours in filial love. 
 And now, far downward in the vale of years, 
 We hand in hand go softly towards the tomb. 
 Regretting little that we leave behind ; 
 With earnest gaze beholding things before. 
 Those after years, a heritage of pain, 
 Of sickness, sadness, weariness, have been ; 
 Learning but slowly in affliction's school 
 Submission, patience, trust, and bright-eyed hope. 
 We reverently kiss the gracious hand 
 Which smites indeed, but smites in tender love. 
 
 And thus at length I close this Retrospect : 
 Telling of other years long past and gone.
 
 A DARKENING SKY. 159 
 
 Too trivial a tale perhaps for some : 
 Too mournful in its tone for giddy minds. 
 Yet have I told of those bright early days ; 
 The sunny morning of a chequered life : 
 Have told of hope and fear and conflict strong, 
 "Weighing the purpose of a well-spent life. 
 If failure marks it and it does indeed 
 The human weakness was mine own alone ; 
 The strength which gave some portion of success 
 "Was truly His, without whose strength we fail. 
 Why should I tell of sickness, sadness more ; 
 And still dark " clouds returning after rain " ? 
 These all are past ; at " evening it is light ! " 
 " Goodness and mercy " now are all my song : 
 Goodness and mercy following all my days. 
 Nor can that thankfulness be overmuch, 
 Nor e'en the restfulness it ever brings. 
 How like the natural day is life's brief time ! 
 Not always brightness ; nor unchequered gloom. 
 An April day it oft resembles best. 
 Bright beams and gentle airs ; then cloud and storm ; 
 The warmth of summer, and the winter's chill ; 
 All gathered in the space of one brief day. 
 Is not our life a day : a day how short ! 
 And even as the flowers, so bright in bloom 
 At early morn, but faded e're the night ; 
 So is man's life on earth ; and even so 
 The life of nations is but brief and frail. 
 The passing wind withers its bloom away : 
 The mower's scythe lays all the flowers low ; 
 "Where once they grew they shall be seen no more ; 
 The glory, pride, and might of man so fall.
 
 160 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 The eternal God unchanging is alone ; 
 
 And His unchanging Word shall ever stand. 
 
 There is our hope amidst all passing things ; 
 
 And hope grows brighter as things earthly pale. 
 
 Firmly we stand, though earth should be convulsed 
 
 To its deep centre, and all earthly things 
 
 Be swept from sight as fallen withered leaves 
 
 Are driven by the autumnal gales away. 
 
 In Whom we have believed we surely know ; 
 
 And to His hands we cheerfully commit 
 
 Our cares, our hopes, our destinies, and all 
 
 We prize : our fairest, richest, best ! We wait 
 
 His great arbitrament : longingly look 
 
 For His appearance ; and that coming time 
 
 When all things shall be seen beneath His sway ; 
 
 When He shall claim the throne : and evermore 
 
 The diadem of universal rule, 
 
 Amid the plaudits of unnumbered worlds, 
 
 Upon that once thorn-crowned and smitten brow, 
 
 As His alone by right, shall firmly rest, 
 
 And with an undimmed splendour ever shine.
 
 Eoofc t&e &ebrnt&.
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 Invocation Observation of Men and Things Truth sought 
 Its strangeness Claimed by All Appeal to the Word 
 of God Church Establishment The Case of Israel Not 
 a Precedent Baptismal Regeneration Patronage of the 
 State Politics Protection Extended Franchise The 
 Ballot Parliamentary Debate Ireland Home Rule War 
 Warlike Armaments Material Progress of Recent Times 
 Love of Pleasure Speculation Gambling Socialism 
 London Its Vastness Its Wealth Its power for Good or 
 Evil Christian Philanthropy and Enterprise Missions 
 Stanley and Modern Discovery Advancement of the 
 Kingdom of God on Earth.
 
 VII. 
 
 SERENE EVENING. 
 
 " Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise again ; 
 The eternal years of God are hers. 
 But error, wounded, falls amain, 
 And dies amid her worshippers." 
 
 'GAIN I tune my lyre, and try to sin-, 
 In notes, or feeble or sustained, my song ; 
 Yet sing not more of my poor pilgri in. 
 But rather of the things I have ol (served, 
 Eeflected on, and tried to estimate 
 Aright, by truth's unerring standard taught. 
 Thou who art the Truth ! teach me, I pray, 
 That so the judgment I shall form of each 
 Particular and separate noted thing 
 May meet Thy great approval. Let me not 
 Err through mere human prejudice ; but view 
 Things clearly in the light which shines from Thee. 
 
 More circumscribed, perhaps, than that of must 
 Who have aspired to be the guides of men 
 And teachers of the truth divine, has been 
 The field of observation in my view. 
 Yet much of men and of their various ways
 
 164 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Have these eyes seen, as from a point of view 
 
 Giving much vantage so to overlook 
 
 The various actors on the busy stage 
 
 Of life's e'er shifting scenes. For " all the world 
 
 " Is but a stage, and men and women are 
 
 The players " in its many shifting scenes. 
 
 Thus what has passed under my mind's survey 
 
 I set forth truly ; seeking not applause, 
 
 And fearing no man's censure ; for I seek 
 
 To show the thing as I believe it is, 
 
 And not as men may deem it, this or that. 
 
 If strange my judgment seems, the truth is strange ; 
 
 More strange than most men willingly allow. 
 
 Yet why is truth so strange ? All think they have 
 The truth as their own several heritage. 
 The Eomanist deems truth the " Church's " own. 
 The Anglican puts in his claim to share 
 With " Catholics" what Rome will not allow. 
 The Eastern Church repudiates them both, 
 By Rome repudiated in her turn, 
 Though Anglicans allow the equal claim. 
 Protestants, all alike, profess appeal 
 To God's own word, the standard of all truth ; 
 Though all alike love their own Churches more. 
 Thus " Church " is set above the Word of God. 
 The Romanist, who boldly sets his " Church " 
 Above the Word, may be dismissed at once : 
 That arrogant and impious claim long since 
 Has been disproved. Who darkness will prefer 
 To light, in darkness evermore shall dwell. 
 But Protestants profess to make the Word
 
 SERENE EVENING. 165 
 
 Their rule of faith, their guide, and final judge. 
 Then to that Word we bring them. By that Word 
 Let them be justified, or else condemned. 
 
 What sanction then can an Established 
 Find in the written Word ? That earthly States 
 Should legislate upon the things of God ? 
 That worldly men should handle things divine ? 
 Say not that Israel affords the type. 
 Israel's sad example proves it false. 
 Besides, those were the days of shadows dim. 
 Are we in shadows, dim as theirs, to live ? 
 We, upon whom the Sun of Kighteousness, 
 In all the glory of His beams, has risen ? 
 The Jewish state was a Theocracy; 
 Yet even so foreshadowed things to come. 
 God's Church was in its nonage, and was taught 
 As best became instruction for a child. 
 But we are men, or claim the Man's estate, 
 And spurn the teaching only fit for youth. 
 Must we our model take from ' elements ' 
 Which in comparison were even called 
 By an Apostle " weak and beggarly"? * 
 They answered well their purpose ; they prepared 
 For better things to come in God's good time. 
 The Law made nothing perfect ; but it was 
 The bringing in of better, brighter hope.f 
 It was the twilight passing into day 
 When the full light of Revelation came. 
 
 The State and Church were one indeed of old 
 
 * Galatians iv. 9. t Hebrews vii. 19.
 
 1 66 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 When God claimed Israel as His chosen flock 
 Whom He by Moses and by Aaron led, 
 And gave them Canaan for an heritage. 
 Gifted with heaven-taught seers they went astray ; 
 And, with a ritual God-inspired, they mocked 
 With hollow worship of the lip and knee 
 The sacred Majesty whom they invoked. 
 Altars were built upon a plan divine, 
 And victims by divine appointment bled. 
 A truly consecrated priesthood served 
 In holy things : anointed from above. 
 Priests, altars, temples, all have passed away; 
 All insufficient were 'twixt man and God. 
 The gorgeous temple reared by Solomon, 
 Abhorred by God, was left to ruin dire ; 
 Profaned, sacked, burnt by ruthless pagan hands. 
 The outward show of honour done to God, 
 Discredited by vile hypocrisy, 
 liejected was by Heaven with high disdain, 
 And Church and State alike passed quite away, 
 Cast off by Him they were designed to serve. 
 What fair example then shall there, be found 
 On which to model Christian commonwealths ? 
 Nor need we go to learn, in these old days, 
 Afresh from them what they were set to teach. 
 A pedagogue to lead to Christ, the Law 
 Answered its purpose when it fully shewed 
 The need of better teaching soon to come. 
 He, came, the perfect Teacher : grace and truth 
 Were in His hands : He is Himself Tlu Truth : 
 Wisdom and knowledge treasured all in Him. 
 Does He entrust to earthly states His laws,
 
 SERENE EVENING, 167 
 
 To mould and alter and adapt as best 
 
 May be approved by human wisdom now ? 
 
 He says His kingdom not of this world is. 
 
 He bids us render Ciesar Ciesar's own, 
 
 But claims for God that which to God belongs. 
 
 Surely those claims are not identical. 
 
 Or where to Caesar is the patent given 
 
 To rule and order what belongs to God ? 
 
 Are earthly senators, in any land, 
 
 Empowered to legislate in things divine ? 
 
 Where does His Word ask for their fostering care, 
 
 And kings make nursing fathers of Christ's own ? 
 
 Does Israel's ancient seer so foretell ? 
 
 Read but again Isaiah's prophecy, 
 
 And see that Israel claims that eminence, 
 
 The bright prediction of her destiny.* 
 
 Zion, cast off, forsaken, desolate, 
 
 Shall be restored to her own land again ; 
 
 Repentant, pardoned, owning Christ her King ; 
 
 And kings shall nursing fathers be to Jier, 
 
 And Gentile states contend to honour her. 
 
 If baptism indeed regenerate souls, 
 
 And every babe should baptism receive, 
 
 Then may the Church and State be one indeed, 
 
 Where all are " Christians " made by baptism. 
 
 But that this doctrine not the shadow has 
 
 Of claim to be regarded as divine 
 
 I do protest with utmost vehemence. 
 
 More false, more soul destroying, none can be. 
 
 It needs, indeed, all sacerdotal wiles, 
 
 To give it but the semblance of a truth, 
 
 * Isaiah xlix. 13-26.
 
 168 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 While fact and character on every side 
 Stamp it with blatant falsehood on its head. 
 But thus have " Christians " manufactured been 
 By priestly craft through centuries misspent ; 
 Blind leaders and their poor blind victims both 
 Plunging together in the muddy ditch. 
 Such " Christian " states have been the blot and shame 
 Of Christendom these sixteen hundred years. 
 
 Say, is it in accordance with Christ's will 
 That worldly men should nominate and choose, 
 Unchallenged, the chief pastors of His Church ? 
 That bishoprics should be disposed by gift 
 Of royal hands and ministers of State ? 
 How fit for such bestowments were the hands 
 Of second Charles, or James, or the fourth George ? 
 And were their ministers much better fit 
 To set the mitre on the honoured head 
 Of the Crown's nominee ? A Charles James Fox, 
 With hands polluted by the gamester's tricks ; 
 A jovial Palmerston ; a racing lord ? 
 Or is a Parliament, composed of men 
 Of every creed, and of no creed at all, 
 Most fit to legislate in things divine ? 
 Such things divine more surely ordered are 
 In Holy Writ, with God's own seal impressed. 
 But mingled with mere worldly politics 
 They but usurp and impiously affront 
 The functions of high Heaven. 
 
 For politics 
 
 Are but the schemes of statesmen, more or less 
 True patriots, seeking each his country's good.
 
 SERENE EVENING. 169 
 
 Ambition, pride, and party rancour may 
 Make base and servile all their politics. 
 The pure, true-hearted, self-forgetting, bold 
 In righting wrongs and framing equal laws, 
 Alas ! are but exceptions to the rule. 
 What fierce contention, internecine war, 
 With every change of government breaks out ! 
 Each party clamours loudly to be heard, 
 And each declares the other wholly wrong. 
 Yet each in office takes the self-same course, 
 And boasts the measures it prescribes its own. 
 Not what will best the nation really serve, 
 But what will place and power most ensure, 
 Are measures dearest to the statesman's heart. 
 Go, fight about your petty party tricks ; 
 Pretend true patriotism, but hold fast 
 The power you have ; or, if you have it not, 
 Adventure everything to make it yours. 
 Like football players, scuffle for the prize ; 
 And, as in cricket-field, bowl out your man, 
 And drive the ball yourself far out of bounds. 
 'T is but a game of " ins " and " outs " at best ; 
 A game of chance or skill, with even odds. 
 Pursue your game, your party purposes, 
 But leave religion and the things of God 
 Untouched by sacrilegious hands like yours. 
 
 How loud the din, how fierce the clash of arms 
 When rival politicians meet in feud ! 
 Yet have I seen how time will modify 
 And alter quite the views men take of things. 
 When I was young, Protection was in force,
 
 1 70 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 And Free Trade was denounced as the wild scheme 
 
 Of demagogues and revolutionists. 
 
 The Agricultural Interest, so-called, 
 
 Denounced with fiercest rage the hateful plan, 
 
 And claimed Protection as a Briton's right. 
 
 But where is now Protection ? Who would dare, 
 
 Though most conservative in other things, 
 
 To plead for its recall ? Dagon has fall'n, 
 
 Deprived of head and hands he prostrate lies, 
 
 Nor dares the boldest of his worshippers 
 
 To try to set upon the pedestal, 
 
 On which before their idol proudly stood, 
 
 The fallen deity for ever fall'n. 
 
 Extended Franchise, loudly once denounced, 
 
 Is now the accepted rule, by all agreed. 
 
 And that vile Ballot, scorned by honest men, 
 
 The coward's shield, serves every party's aim. 
 
 For Primrose Leagues, adorned with Primrose Dames, 
 
 Move Heaven and Earth to make the ballot tell 
 
 In favour of their men ; while Liberals 
 
 Canvass as earnestly to gain before 
 
 The promise of a vote at polling booth. 
 
 Thus with the ballot and its secrecy 
 
 Is canvassing allowed, and thus is known 
 
 Beforehand how the voters will decide, 
 
 Unless indeed the promise be a lie, 
 
 And the bribed knave pocket his golden fee 
 
 And laugh to scorn his base corrupters all ; 
 
 Or promise, and then vote the other way. 
 
 Yet, doubtless, an extended franchise must 
 
 In course of time send to the Commons House 
 
 More Members truly representative ;
 
 SERENE EVENING. 171 
 
 And the enactment certainly ensure 
 Of measures tending to the common good. 
 But party strife will rage in open war 
 That party purposes alone may stand. 
 
 How vexed the questions Parliament debates ! 
 The Church's claims ; and Local Government ; 
 And Education ; and opposing Schools, 
 Religious some, and others secular ; 
 Conflicting claims hotly contested there ; 
 A battle raging where there need be none. 
 Let Churches teach what they believe divine, 
 Not at the Nation's cost, but at their own. 
 And let the Nation teach what all believe 
 That two and two make four, and that the whole 
 Is greater than a part. "Why need there be 
 Collision or confusion on such ground ? 
 
 Poor Ireland ! How hard tliy case has been ! 
 Wretched, misgoverned, and maligned, thy lot 
 Has been most miserable without hope ! 
 No wonder if resentment thou hast felt, 
 And, groaning in thy shackles, long hast tried 
 To cast them off, and thy allegiance too. 
 Held down by force, thy grievances contemned, 
 Thy English Masters, treating thee with scorn, 
 And making laws coercive, made thee feel 
 Thou wast an alien land, a conquered foe. 
 But England's better mind would help thee now. 
 Thou art our sister isle, an emerald 
 Bright, beautiful, set in the azure sea, 
 As in a circlet all of sapphire rich ; 
 But living sapphire, wooing, kissing thee !
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 As if the very sea would seek thy love, 
 
 In sympathy with thy neglected woes. 
 
 Or, as a maiden lone, in Tara's halls, 
 
 "Weeps o'er the ruin she beholds around, 
 
 So thy skies weep, beholding Erin's wrongs. 
 
 Indignantly thou askest for Home Eule. 
 
 Thou hast a right to ask, and to demand, 
 
 Till England give thee just and equal laws. 
 
 Home Eule might work thy ruin fatal gift ! 
 
 All inexperienced and weak thou art 
 
 For such possession ; needing stronger hands 
 
 Than thine to use that potent talisman ; 
 
 By demagogues misled ; by factions torn. 
 
 But righteousness does England owe to thee, 
 
 And compensation for injustice done 
 
 And ruthlessly maintained e'er since what time 
 
 The second Henry styled himself thy " lord," 
 
 And seized the diadems of all thy kings, 
 
 To fuse them in one crown for his own brow. 
 
 Kings, lords-lieutenant, and their myrmidons 
 
 Have set their feet upon thy prostrate neck, 
 
 And English Parliaments have aided them. 
 
 But the sad tale is hasting to its close. 
 
 England forgets thee not ; and righteous Heaven, 
 
 Which overrules all mortal things, and makes 
 
 The wrath of man, and his wrong-doing too, 
 
 Eesult in blessing where the curse has fallen, 
 
 To His high praise, will send thee soon redress, 
 
 And thy long night of weeping He will turn 
 
 Into the brightness of a gladsome day. 
 
 Home Rule may not be thine ; but righteous rule, 
 
 With wisdom, love, and kindly sympathy,
 
 SERENE EVENING. 173 
 
 Shall make a Union which no rebel might 
 Shall seek to rend ; and mutual regard 
 Make closer still, and firmer to all time. 
 
 When will the nations learn to war no more ? 
 Must war, half childish, and half savage, still 
 Spread havoc to enforce a nation's rights, 
 Or to gain power and glory ? Deeds of blood 
 And rapine make men heroes in the view 
 Of their compatriots, and jealous hate, 
 Disguised as Patriotism, makes a land 
 To groan beneath the weight of armaments 
 Which hurl defiance at the neighbour lands, 
 And dare them to attack. Thus mailed and armed 
 E'en to the teeth, like ancient knights, they each 
 Defy the other, and then call their sport 
 An armed Peace, Peace best prepared for war ; 
 As if 'twere easier not to fight in arms, 
 Than if the arms were thrown aside, and arts 
 Of friendliness and peace pursued instead. 
 Such folly and such wickedness will pass 
 For wisdom only both with fools and knaves. 
 But costly ships are built like fortresses, 
 Colossal and tremendous for their power ; 
 Power for destruction only, grim death's play, 
 Shattering a navy at a single blow ; 
 ^Yhile like a wily serpent, 'neath the waves, 
 The swift torpedo-boat with subtle stroke 
 Deals death and devastation all around. 
 Yet we are called a Cht-istian Nation still, 
 And a State Church its benediction gives 
 To armies and to navies such as these !
 
 174 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Will heaven endorse the fraud forgive the sin ? 
 Threatening and slaughter breathed in its own name ? 
 Then build your costly ships, engines of war ; 
 Increase your armaments of fighting men ; 
 Boast your resources, courage, martial skill ; 
 But oh ! renounce at once the Christian name. 
 
 By rapid strides, by starts and leaps and bounds, 
 The world's material progress has advanced 
 Since I was young, and in the days long past 
 Sought meadow paths and shady woodland walks. 
 The slow stage-coach, and lumbering laden wain, 
 Have long been driv'n by steam from off the roads. 
 And railways, interlacing everywhere, 
 Are filled with trains outflying e'en the wind. 
 With lightning speed, and by the lightning's touch, 
 The message flies along the outstretched wire ; 
 And through the tube the uttered voice resounds ; 
 While (Science, triumph !) in the Phonograph 
 The orator still speaks, the singer sings, 
 That, out of sight, the distant ear may hear. 
 And even now, all antiquated, steam, 
 Must yield the palm to electricity. 
 Our human wants are multiplied tenfold, 
 And tenfold skill and industry supply 
 The tenfold work. So we desire, and have ! 
 That we are better for our many wants, 
 Or for their swift supply, may doubted be. 
 It has been held, and taught with wisdom too, 
 That he who wanted least was best supplied. 
 But modern manners multiply our wants,
 
 SEKENE EVENING. 175 
 
 And with their swift supply increase them more. 
 The labourer now is better housed and fed 
 Than were his " betters " in our fathers' days. 
 Our modern dwellings are so well contrived 
 That all have comfort, most have elegance. 
 Appliances of which men little dreamed, 
 At the commencement of our good Queen's reign, 
 Are now deemed requisites for every house. 
 The house contrived, and all its furniture, 
 For ease and comfort, not alone for use. 
 Abundant food, more varied and more cheap, 
 In every street obtrudes upon the eye. 
 And yet is heard, on every side, the wail 
 Of starving thousands, destitute alike 
 Of food, of money, and of daily work ; 
 Crushed down and trodden under foot the while 
 By busy competition's reckless feet 
 Thronging the ways of wealth-producing skill. 
 Thus " Darkest England " shames our modern life ; 
 Loud the appeal to philanthropic aid ; 
 And louder still to Christian charity. 
 And noble is the self-denying zeal, 
 And warm the gush of truly Christian love, 
 Which heed the cry, and render ready help. 
 Now, rescued from inhuman cruelty, 
 Poor, helpless, outcast children cared for are ; 
 The starving wretch is fed, the sick are nursed ; 
 And crowded hospitals fling wide their gates, 
 And wider still would fling them, would the rich 
 But open wider each his well-filled purse. 
 The felon meets with pity ; and with wrath, 
 Most righteous, mercy sweet is mingled still.
 
 176 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 But with it all the love of Pleasure reigns ; 
 
 And Luxury profuse, and studious of ease, 
 
 Betokens, as in Koine, a nation's fall ; 
 
 If not its fall, at least its sure decay. 
 
 The love of Pleasure dominates the land, 
 
 Infecting even Religion's holy things, 
 
 Music and ceremonial sweeping out 
 
 All serious regard to God's own word. 
 
 " The full- voiced choir " and " pealing organ " there 
 
 Entrance the listeners, fill them with delight, 
 
 And so " in service high and anthems clear " 
 
 "All heaven," they think, is "brought before their eyes."* 
 
 " Alas ! that thus a poet puritan 
 
 Should be deluded, and himself delude ! 
 
 " God is a Spirit," saith the Voice Divine. 
 
 Nor will accept, as " worship " offered Him, 
 
 Aught but the heart, " in spirit and in truth." 
 
 One festering sore is eating out the heart 
 Of honesty and of all righteousness 
 In dealings between man and man. I mean 
 The gambler's base and wicked trickery. 
 What is the Nation's destiny, when through 
 Each rank and class, the noble and the base, 
 Runs this foul mischief, and when everyone 
 Grasps eagerly at wealth, and risks his all 
 In hopes of gaining more, merely by " chance " ; 
 And the blind favour of some " lucky hit " ? 
 Is this how Britain gained the wealth she owns, 
 By cards, and racing, and the gambler's dice ? 
 Yet fools of every class now risk their means 
 * MILTON.
 
 SERENE EVENING. 177 
 
 In hasting to be rich before the time. 
 
 Thus industry is checked, and lawful gain 
 
 Discouraged for a game at pitch and t" 
 
 Labour is scouted, and the labourer, 
 
 Th' infection catching, grumbles at his lot, 
 
 And claims his share of all the Nation's wealth. 
 
 " What right has one to wealth while others starve ?" 
 
 This is the question Socialists will ask, 
 
 And ask their gambling Masters too with point 
 
 " Why should some toil and sweat the live-long day, 
 
 While others never soil their finger-tips, 
 
 Nor spend one hour in labour whatsoe'er ? 
 
 If there 's a royal road to certain wealth, 
 
 Let 's follow it ; we may be rich as they." 
 
 Thus sullen discontent is born and bred ; 
 
 Impatience, envy, anger, follow next, 
 
 Then combination, and defiance bold ; 
 
 And strife breaks out betwixt the rich and poor. 
 
 Thus Socialism tries to level all, 
 
 By levelling down, as well as levelling up, 
 
 And civil war looms in the darkening sky. 
 
 London ! thou vastest city of the earth ! 
 Most highly favoured, and most prosperous too ! 
 Are not thy guilt and shame as hugely vast ? 
 The deities thou worshippest bear rule 
 With highest sovereignty and widest sway 
 Over thy teeming millions, and to them 
 Is daily homage paid, and all day long. 
 Wealth claims pre-eminence, and every knee 
 Bows down to him, acknowledging his claim. 
 The busy multitudes that throng thy streets 
 
 M
 
 1 78 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 All hasting to be rich, his votaries are-. 
 
 The banker, merchant, lawyer, wait on him ; 
 
 The pushing tradesman, and skilled artizan, 
 
 All court his favours, and beseech his smile. 
 
 Next, Pleasure has her votaries. She allures 
 
 As well the high and noble as the base, 
 
 And her allurements are most multiform. 
 
 Operas, theatres, and concert-rooms 
 
 Attract the rich and gay ; while Music Halls 
 
 And Penny Gaffs are crowded by the low. 
 
 Much hast thou of instruction ; well contrived 
 
 To feed and nourish all man's reasoning powers ; 
 
 Museums, galleries, well stored with all 
 
 That art or science can unfold to view 
 
 Display their treasures to his wondering gaze. 
 
 While all that learning, wisdom, can afford 
 
 Are offered to the grasp of him who seeks. 
 
 Nor would I fail to honour and record 
 
 What pure philanthropy, in earnest work, 
 
 And true religion, strive alike to effect. 
 
 But over all, and with outreaching power, 
 
 With daily rapid growth and giant strides, 
 
 Do Wealth and Pleasure still extend their sway, 
 
 With daily increase of their votaries. 
 
 Vast as thou art, thy hunger is as large ; 
 
 The fair earth round thee, falls to thee a prey. 
 
 Where once were shady groves and spreading lawns, 
 
 Are now long streets and busy traffic's ways. 
 
 Thy lovely environs are swallowed up 
 
 In thy great maw, which spares not field or wood ; 
 
 And as a huge volcano belches forth 
 
 Her burning lava, scorching all around,
 
 SERENE EVENING. 179 
 
 And with a widening ring of fiery death, 
 
 From her hot jaws, spreads desolation round, 
 
 So thy encroachments on the country side 
 
 Extend the teeming city. Now no more 
 
 Are found sweet rural scenes where once they were. 
 
 How many a charming walk, well known to me, 
 
 Has given place to vulgar streets and roads 
 
 Where lines of shops on either side display 
 
 The wares of commerce in their newest mode. 
 
 "What power shall check thy ever-swelling pride ? 
 
 What potent word shall stay thy mad career ? 
 
 "No farther shalt thou come, and here at length 
 
 Shall thy encroachments be for ever stayed." 
 
 Ten cities were too large, made up of thee ! 
 
 A wilderness thou art of brick and stone ! 
 
 A province covered o'er with boundless streets ; 
 
 A huge excrescence of the work of man. 
 
 " God made the country, but man made the town," 
 
 Was truth when written on the banks of Ouse, 
 
 But how much more emphatic is that truth 
 
 Displayed in modern London. All must see 
 
 How true the sentiment, who London see. 
 
 London is all of man, man's pride and power 
 
 Have made it what it is, and still would make 
 
 More vast and busy and pernicious too, 
 
 This overgrown, this bloated London now. 
 
 But ill is mixed with good ; huge enterprise 
 
 Is not alone for secular behest. 
 
 The Church of Christ with ardent zeal pursues 
 
 The path of active service for her Lord, 
 
 And serving Him she serves the cause of man. 
 
 Behold the Mission Field, a goodly sigh
 
 l8o THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Hope of the future : hope is there alone. 
 " Go preach my Gospel !" was the great command, 
 And great the multitude of preachers now ! 
 Long have some toiled arnid the burning heat 
 Of swarthy Africa, and teeming Incl, 
 And long they seemed to labour but in vain. 
 Yet was the task not thankless ; barren soil 
 Had need of breaking with the iron share, 
 And patient tilling only could succeed. 
 But seed was sown, and buried 'neath the clods. 
 The plower plowed in hope, the sower sowed 
 In hope the precious seed ; and now at length 
 The seed is springing, and the fields are white 
 To a most glorious harvest. Now the cry, 
 Louder and yet more loud, on every side 
 Is heard, demanding labourers for the field, 
 Where one or two, with weeping went their way 
 To plough and sow the barren wilderness 
 Carey and Morrison the distant East 
 Toiled in alone, and gave it all their days 
 Williams, the lovely islands of the south, 
 Made dark and hateful by degraded man, 
 Again made bright as gardens of the Lord 
 And Moffat, with heroic daring, faced 
 The fiendlike savages on Afric's plains, 
 And saw their lion changed into the lamb. 
 Then Livingstone sought out a wider field. 
 And Stanley followed with his searching eye, 
 The dark recesses of that continent 
 Laid open for the track of Christian feet, 
 And said, " The way is clear, go take your stand, 
 And tell your message to the millions there."
 
 SERENE EVENING. 181 
 
 The Church has answered to the trumpet call, 
 And thrusts, in thousands, her best labourers forth. 
 So, for a witness, is the gospel preached, 
 Till every tribe of man shall hear the sound ; 
 The harvest of the earth shall all be reaped ; 
 And multitudes from every land brought in. 
 Then, like the boundless waters of the sea, 
 Covering the channels of the deep profound, 
 The knowledge of the Lord, o'er all the earth, 
 From pole to pole, and shore to shore, shall reach. 
 The thorn and brier, in the ways of men, 
 To fir and myrtle tree shall then give place ; 
 War shall no more be learned ; the arts of peace, 
 And brotherhood and love, shall take its place. 
 Then He whose right it is, whose conquering Word 
 Shall have made subject every human power, 
 Kule and authority and power put down 
 Among all earthly rulers, shall assume 
 His sovereign right, His universal sway, 
 And Priest for ever, as Melchisedec, 
 A royal Priest upon a throne supreme, 
 As Priest and King He shall for ever reign. 
 Death, the last enemy, shall be destroyed ; 
 The grave, despoiled of victory, shall yield 
 Her prey to Him who first arose therefrom, 
 The Prince of Life, the Conqueror of Death. 
 The final Judgment, and the great White Throne, 
 A righteous sentence shall apportion all ; 
 The New Jerusalem from Heaven descend, 
 And God with men shall make His blest abode. 
 
 M 2
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Fa.v 
 
 Aconbury Hill . . 107 
 
 Advancement of the Kingdom 
 
 of God on Earth . 160, 181 
 Alcove, The . 78 
 
 All are Children in the highest 
 
 knowledge . 23 
 
 All Saints' Church, Hereford 74 
 Althrida and Ethelbert . 67 
 Amiens Cathedral . . 66 
 Amusements, Public . .101 
 An Experience of Sorrow . 155 
 Anxious Forethought . . 127 
 Appeal to the Word of God, 
 
 128, 130, 132, 134-36 
 As>ixt-s, Country . . 99 
 
 Auburn, Sweet . 50, 112, 148 
 
 Ballot, The . 98, 99, 170 
 
 Balls . . . 101 
 
 Baptismal Regeneration 129, 167 
 Baraardistons, The . . 32 
 Bartlow Hills . . 62 
 
 Bathing in Summer . . 104 
 Baur . . . 124 
 
 Bazaars and Fancy Fairs 125-26 
 Beauty that is Death . . 37 
 Bennett, Rev. James, D.D. . 154 
 Bereavements . 38, 89-92, 154-56 
 Biddulph, , Esq., M.P. . 95 
 
 Birthdays 
 Bishop Stortford 
 Blackcap's Nest 
 Bodenham 
 Bower, The 
 Boyish Sports . 
 
 Pgt 
 
 . 41 
 . 6'J 
 . 14 
 . 113 
 . 49 
 42, 86 
 
 Bribery, The Ballot no sure 
 
 Protection against . 98, 170 
 Bridges, Some described 50, 61, 75 
 Brother, My elder . 41, 84 
 Bull Inn, Aldgate . . 63 
 Burial of an aged Saint . 39 
 
 Canterbury Cathedral . . 66 
 Canute the Dane . . 62 
 
 Castle Green, Hereford . 78 
 
 Cathedral Cities . 65, 67 
 
 Cathedrals . . 65, 66, 78 
 
 Chairing Members of Parlia- 
 ment . . 95, 96 
 Changes that have come 61, 117,118 
 Changefulness of all on Earth 117 
 Childish Sorrow short-lived . 92 
 Childhood . . 10, 23 
 Children, Training of 22-26, 43, 44 
 Choice of a Profession . . 127 
 Choirs, The Three . .102 
 Christian Zeal . . .179 
 Church Communion . 121
 
 1 84 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Page 
 Church Establishments 
 
 128, 129, 132, 165-68 
 Church of England, Respect 
 
 for . . . 130-33 
 
 Churches, Village . 32-51, 109 
 Churchyards . .51, 54, 78 
 
 Clive, Edward Bolton, Esq. M. P. 95 
 Clock, A grotesque old . . 72 
 Cobbler, "The princely and 
 
 pious" . . . 114 
 
 College Days . . .128 
 
 Collyer, Rev. W. B., D.D. . 154 
 Cologne Cathedral . . 66 
 Common, Widemarsh . 75, 86 
 Companionship . . 22 
 
 Concerts . . 101 
 
 Confirmations, as they have 
 
 been . . 124 
 
 Corruption, Political, denounced 
 
 97-99, 170 
 
 Cowper . 19, 22, 48, 79, 81 
 
 Credenhill . .73, 108 
 
 Cricket . . 86, 169 
 
 Cricket-field . 86 
 
 Criminal Court at Assizes . 100 
 Criticism Forestalled . 46, 54 
 Criticism, " The Higher," 
 
 Criticised . 24, 25, 122-24 
 Crofts, Bishop . 70 
 
 Crosses, TheWhite and Black 75, 77 
 
 Dame School, A 59 
 
 Dark Days . . . 89 
 
 Darkest Day, The . 153-157 
 
 Debates, Parliamentary . 171 
 Decline and Fall of the British 
 
 Empire . . 176 
 
 Dinedor Hill . . 73, 105 
 
 Dinmore Hill . 77 
 
 Disappointments . . 154 
 
 Page 
 
 Discovery, Modern . .180 
 " Dogma," Doctrine often 
 
 decried as 24 
 
 Dream, All of Earth a . . 112 
 Durham Cathedral . . 66 
 
 Election, A Country, long 
 
 ago . . 92-96 
 
 Eign Brook . 72 
 
 Epping Forest . 62 
 
 Enterprise, Christian . 175-80 
 Established Churches . 165-68 
 Ethelbert and Althrida . 67-78 
 Experience of Sorrow, An 
 
 140, 153-57 
 
 Extended Franchise . . 97 
 Evening in Winter . . 37 
 Evolution . 26 
 
 Fair, A Country, described . 42 
 Fairclough, Rev. Samuel 32, 51 
 Fancy Fairs and Bazaars 125, 126 
 Farm-houses, Visits to . 29, 30 
 Father, My, 15-18, 38, 39, 48, 53, 
 60, 62, 64, 70, 79, 107, 119, 120 
 " Favourite Walk," The . 14 
 First Day at School . . 60 
 First Pastorate . . .141 
 
 Flora, Statue of 53 
 
 Foley, , Esq., M.P. . . 96 
 Franchise, Extended . . 97 
 " Free and Independent Elec- 
 tors" . 97 
 Friendship and Social Con- 
 verse . . 151, 152 
 Funeral Scenes . 38, 39 
 
 Gambling denounced . .176 
 Gardiner, Colonel, of Preston 
 Pans 72
 
 INDEX. 
 
 185 
 
 Page 
 
 Gardens, Our, described 12, 72 
 
 Gilbert, Rev. Joseph . . 154 
 
 ,, Josiah, Esq. . .146 
 
 ,, Mrs. Josiah . . 147 
 
 Graveyard Scene, A .38 
 
 Haeckel . . 124 
 
 Half-holidays . . 86 
 
 Hall, lloyns . 52 
 
 ,, Stunner . 52 
 
 ,, Town, and County (Here- 
 ford) . . 74 
 Haverhill, Poet, The . . 56 
 Head Master, The . . 80 
 Master's Wife . . 81 
 Hereford, City of 65, 67, 74, 77 
 Cathedral . 67, 78 
 Herefordshire: its Beauty 105-14 
 ,, Cattle . . 73 
 " Higher Criticism," The, 
 
 Criticised . 24 
 
 Holidays . 81 
 
 Holmer Village . . 76 
 
 Home Education, 22, 24, 26, 28, 43, 
 
 45, 48, 79 
 
 Home, My First . 8, 12, 27 
 
 My Second . . 61 
 
 Rule . . 172 
 
 Houses, Old, at Hereford . 74 
 
 Incarnation, The, Divine 
 
 Mystery of . 23 
 
 Indoor Enjoyments . . 37 
 
 Inn, "The Red Lion,"Sturmer 55 
 
 "The Mitre, "Oxford . 64 
 
 Intimidation ought to be made 
 
 Penal . . . 98 
 
 Invocation . . . 163 
 
 Ireland . . 171-73 
 
 Israel, Ancient . . 165, 166 
 
 Page 
 
 James, Rev. John Angell . 143 
 James the Second, King . 69 
 Journey to London, My first 61 
 June, A Morning in .91 
 
 Keddington Church . 32, 51 
 
 Water-mill 31, 51 
 
 Village . 50, 51 
 
 Kingdom of God on Earth 160,181 
 
 Labourer, The : His hard Lot 29, 30 
 
 Lady-Lift, The . . . 73 
 
 L' Allegro . . 76, 77 
 
 Learning Latin . . 45, 46 
 
 Lawn Tennis . . . 121 
 
 Lincoln Cathedral . .66 
 
 London Described . 63, 177-79 
 
 ,, First Journey to . 61 
 
 ,, its vastness denounced 
 
 178-79 
 
 Love of Nature . . 43, 63, 92 
 
 Pleasure . 176, 178 
 
 Rural Scenes 22, 63, 75-77 
 
 Lowe, Rev. William . . 66 
 
 Luxury a Nation's Bane . 176 
 
 Malvern Hills . 65, 107, 111 
 
 Marden Ash . .150, 152 
 
 Master, The Head . . 80 
 Masters, The Secondand Third 80,81 
 Master's Wife, The Head . 81 
 Material Progress of the Nation 174 
 Meeting-houses 15, 17, 69-71 
 
 Midland Town, A . .118 
 Milton . . . 76 
 
 L' Allegro of . 76,176 
 Minster Close, Hereford . .78 
 Ministry of the Gospel . 139, 140 
 Inclina- 
 
 tion for . 127
 
 1 86 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Page 
 
 Missions . . 179, 180 
 
 " Mitre Hotel " at Oxford . 64 
 
 Modern Discovery . .180 
 
 ,, Notionsand Methods 121-27 
 
 Thought . 25, 122-24 
 
 Morning in June, A .91 
 
 Mother, Cowper's . . 22 
 
 My . . 18-20, 73 
 
 Moyns Park . 52 
 
 Nature, Love of 22, 37, 43, 63 
 The Child's best Teacher 44 
 New Home, Removal to . 61 
 Nicholas' Church, St.,Hereford 74 
 " Night of Weeping, and Morn- 
 ing of Joy" . 140, 157, 172 
 " Nisi Prius " Court at Assizes 100 
 Nonconformist : Why I am 
 
 one . . . 134-36 
 
 Nonconformity, 13, 15, 68, 134-36 
 
 Observation of Men and 
 
 Things . . 163, 164 
 
 " Old-fashioned and Exploded 
 
 Notions" . . 27, 121 
 
 Ongar, Chipping . 145-52 
 
 Oratorios denounced . 102-4 
 
 Orchard, Our . . . 14 
 
 Orchards, Herefordshire . 73 
 
 Ordination, An . . 142, 143 
 
 Oundle . , . 118 
 
 Church . . 118, 119 
 
 ,, Long Bridge . .118 
 
 ,, My Father's Ministry at 
 
 119, 120 
 
 Parliamentary Debates . 171 
 Parsonage Houses . . 8, 70 
 Pastor, The Christian, de- 
 scribed . . 139, 140 
 
 Page 
 
 Pastorate, My first . 141, 142 
 Patronage of Religion by the 
 
 State. . . 168 
 
 "Paul Pry "Coach . . 64 
 Paul's, St., Cathedral . . 66 
 Peterborough Cathedral . 66 
 Peter's, St., Church, Hereford 74 
 Philanthropy, Modern, com- 
 mended . . .175 
 Pleasure, The Love of : its evil 
 
 effect . . . 176, 178 
 
 Politics. . . 168-69 
 
 "Poplar Field, "The . . 48 
 Primrose, The Rev. George 68-71 
 Prince of Orange, William . 69 
 Progress, Material, of the Age 174 
 "Protection" . . 169,170 
 
 Public Schools . 79 
 
 Puritanism gloried in . . 101 
 Purpose, The Author's 7, 11, 46, 54 
 
 Races, The . . .101 
 
 Redford, Rev. G., D.P., LL.D. 64, 143 
 Reform . . 93 
 
 Bill, The first . . 93 
 Regeneration, Baptismal, 130, 167 
 Rheiins Cathedral . . 66 
 Reminiscences, Delightful 11, 86 
 Removals . . 61, 118 
 
 Renan . . . 124 
 
 Renewing Grace, Need of . 85 
 Resolve, The timid yet firm . 120 
 Retrospection . . . 7, 11 
 
 Re-Union, Hope of . .153 
 Rule, Home . . 172 
 
 Rural Rambles, 22, 29, 33, 49, 52, 
 54, 75 
 
 Saffron Walden . . 62 
 
 Saint, Burial of an aged . 39
 
 INDEX. 
 
 187 
 
 Page 
 
 Salisbury Cathedral . . 66 
 
 School-boy Troubles . . 61 
 
 School, A Dame . . 60 
 
 ,, Days . . .80-86 
 
 ,, Fellows . .81 
 
 ,, First Day at . 60, 80 
 
 Going to 81 
 
 ,, Retaining from . 41 
 
 Schools, Public . . 79 
 
 Shadow, A dark . . 89 
 
 ,, A darker still . 154, 155 
 
 Shadows Remaining 92, 152, 159 
 
 Sister, My eldest . . 89 
 
 Smith, Rev. Samuel . . 68 
 
 Socialism . . .177 
 
 Sorrow, An Experience of 154-60 
 
 Speculation . . .176 
 
 Spinning-wheels . 20, 21 
 
 Spring . . .37, 38, 49 
 
 S tanley and Modern Discovery 180 
 
 State Patronage of Religion, 165-69 
 
 Stour, River . . . 9, 61 
 
 Strangeness of Truth . .164 
 
 Stunner Church . . 54 
 
 Hall . . 54 
 
 Village . . 54 
 
 Woods . . 52, 55 
 
 Summary . . 11, 158-60 
 
 Summer,-house . . .13 
 
 Walks, 28, 50, 52, 105, 
 
 107, 108, 111-13 
 
 Superstition . 50 
 
 Taylor, Jane . 92 
 
 Isaac . 145, 147-49, 152 
 
 Mrs. Isaac . 148, 152 
 
 Taylors of Ongar, The . .144 
 
 Temple not made with Hands 108 
 
 Page 
 
 The Word with Power . . 1-JO 
 Time : What makes it seem 
 
 swift or slow . 47 
 
 Timid yet Firm Resolve, The 120 
 
 Tillotson, Archbishop . 32, 51 
 
 Tirocinium, Co\vper's . . 79 
 
 Training of Children . . 24 
 
 Truth Claimed by all . .164 
 
 Sought .' . .163 
 
 ,, Strange . . 164 
 
 Uniformity, Act of . 68, 69 
 
 Vastness of London deplored 1 78,1 79 
 Village Churches . 32, 55, 108 
 
 Voyle, Rev. William . . 68 
 
 War denounced . .173 
 
 Warlike Armaments . .173 
 Walks, Country, described 
 
 28, 31, 33, 49, 52, 54, 73, 76 
 Watchmaker, The . . 104 
 Water Mills . . 31, 51, 76 
 
 " Waters, still, run deep " . 126 
 Weaving . 20 
 
 Webb, The Haverhill Poet . 56 
 Wellhausen . . 124 
 
 Wells Cathedral . . 66 
 
 Weobley . . .111 
 
 Widemarsh Common . 75, 86 
 William the Third, King . 69 
 Winter described . . 37 
 
 Worcester, City of . 64, 144 
 Word of God, Appeal to 165, 167,168 
 Wye, River . 65, 105, 106, 110 
 
 York Cathedral . 
 
 . 66 
 
 Zeal, Christian, commended 179,181
 
 UCSB LIBRARY 
 
 LONDON : 
 JOHN F. SHAW AND Co. 
 
 48, PATERNOSTBR ROW. 
 
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