BBBBH :, ! V.H, BBHH i .^^MlMB SHlu wn^HHI^BHI^fl^B^HflHi ,, w 1 ,:<-:i^i: ViSirai '.i/ij::-**! !r'i lv ' i;'< |itj,|ii ! r ' >^ ''' r i,^" 1 -] ^ij! nHHIHB HHH LETTERS TO A FRIEND ON HELPING THE POOR. BY MRS. SEWELL, Author of " HOMELY BALLADS," " MOTHER'S LAST WORDS," "PATIENCE HART," &c. i " If thou draw out thy sou/ to the hungry, and satisfy the afflicted soul, then shall thy light rise in obscurity, and thy darkness be as the noon day." Isaiah Iviii. 10. SECOND E.DIT1ON. LONDON : JARROLD AND SONS,, 12, PATERNOSTER ROW. 's fnfrue. IN bringing the following Letters before the Public, the Author confesses that she does it with fear and trembling. She is deeply sensible of the vast importance of the subject upon which she has attempted to write, and not less of its extreme difficulty and delicacy. She is well aware that a wide experience, wisely gathered, and a pen of commanding talent, are required to do it adequate justice ; and to enforce, with practical efficacy, its high obligation and privilege. From a very secluded position, and with, comparatively, a limited experience, the Author has ventured only to touch the subject here and there, as it has impressed itself upon her in the common daily round of life and duty. She trusts that her feeble offering to the cause of humanity, may not be a stumbling-block in the way, but that it may induce others, who have obtained a higher stand-point of experience, to give to the multitude of waiting workers, wider, wiser, and more profitable thoughts. 1G74C9; ' A POOR wayfaring man of grief, Hath often crossed me on my way ; Who sued so humbly for relief, That I could never answer, ' Nay :' I had not power to ask his name, Whither he went, or whence he came ; Yet there was something in his eye That won my love, I knew not why. Once, when my scanty meal was spread, He entered ; not a word he spake ; Just perishing for want of bread: I gave him all ; he bless'd it, brake, And ate ; but gave me part again : Mine was an angel's portion then ; For while I fed with eager haste, That crust was manna to my taste. I spied him, where a fountain burst Clear from the rock ; his strength was gone ; The heedless water mocked his thirst, He heard it, saw it hurrying on : I ran to raise the sufferer up ; Thrice from the stream he drain'd my cup, Dipt, and returned it running o'er ; I drank, and never thirsted more. vi INTRODUCTORY. 'Twas night the floods were out ; it blew A winter hurricane aloof; I heard his voice abroad, and flew To bid him welcome to my roof; I warmed, I clothed, I cheered my guest, Laid him on my own couch to rest ; Then made the hearth my bed, and seem'd In Eden's garden while I dream'd. Stript, wounded, beaten nigh to death, I found him by the highway side ; I roused his pulse, brought back his breath, Revived his spirit, and supplied Wine, oil, refreshment he was healed : I had myself a wound concealed ; But from that hour forgot the smart, And peace bound up my broken heart. In prison I saw him next, condemn'd To meet a traitor's doom at morn ; The tide of lying tongues I stemm'd, And honour'd him 'midst shame and scorn. My friendship's utmost zeal to try, He ask'd if I for him would die? The flesh was weak, my blood ran chill, But the free spirit cried, ' I will.' Then in a moment to my view, The stranger darted from disguise ; The tokens in His hands I knew, My Saviour stood before my eyes ; He spake and my poor name He named ; ' Of Me 'thou hast not been ashamed : These deeds shall thy memorial be ; Fear not, thou didst them unto Me !' " Montgomery. LETTER I. SCRIPTURE ENCOURAGEMENTS TO CHARITY. Counsel requested Retrospect Need of labourers Work and reward The author's creed Scrip- ture passages ..... I LETTER II. THE LABOUR OF LOVE. The District Visitor John Rawlings Th poor dram drinker Sympathy The Bilboa and Tu- dela railway The English home . . 13 LETTER III. THE PAUPER SPIRIT. Difficulties in District visiting The pauper spirit Influence The spirit of the world . . 27 viii CONTENTS. LETTER IV. A VISIT IN THE DISTRICT. The nature of true help The District lady Hard thoughts A touch from heaven Children's aid A friend indeed ... 37 LETTER V. SECOND VISIT IN THE DISTRICT. The sick man Mutual benefit Itinerant easy chair Strawberries Education of children The nursery The little wren ... . 49 LETTER VI. THIRD VISIT IN THE DISTRICT. Who should visit the poor Mary Servants Effect of discouragement upon servants and children The new-married couple The bereaved mother . . . ." . . 59 LETTER VII. THE NURSERY. Nursery misrule Nervous mother Her visit to the lady's house Difficulties in the way of doing good The old beggar Riches increased by giving ...... 73 CONTENTS. ix LETTER VHI. NATURE'S TEACHINGS. Morning in the country Reminiscences of three city dwellings The wild ducks . . 89 LETTER IX. FOURTH VISIT IN THE DISTRICT. A drunkard's family The sick child The sipo matador The Workhouse The hopeless ward The Irishwoman .... 99 LETTER X. MOTHER'S LOVE. The crazed mother Lunatic asylum A friend in need The happy poor A pitiful story . . 113 LETTER XI. PRACTICAL LECTURES TO LADIES. Extracts from Dr. George Johnson's Lecture on "Over-work, Distress, and Anxiety, as Causes of Mental and Bodily Disease " . . .125 LETTER XII. THE UNPAUPERIZED POOR. Gratitude Woman in Shoreditch Mrs. Greatheart Generosity of the Poor A collier The poor man's cloud . . . . 135 X CONTENTS. LETTER XIII. THE GUIDING HAND. Our own place and duty Obedience and faith, a narrative The dyspeptic pauper . .149 LETTER XIV. THE BONDS OF CIRCUMSTANCE. The happy widow Selfish charity Income and management Old traditions Hard words Anecdotes . . . . .163 LETTER XV. COMPLAINTS. Imitation Dress Sunday scholars Order and cleanliness Inconvenient dwellings Disadvan- tages of the poor in sickness Food Contrasts Encouragements . . . , . 175 LETTER XVI. SELFISHNESS AND SYMPATHY. Miss Winter and Miss Noble A Yorkshire woman 191 CONTENTS. Xl LETTER XVII. WORKHOUSES. The aged labourer What is due to him A plan for his comfort Supposed objections Desirableness of visiting Workhouses A plan to supply the sick poor with meat Anecdote of two children . . . . .210 LETTER XVIII. GIVING AWAY. Practice amongst the Jews The miller Funds for charitable objects A dinner party John Wesley . . . . . 227 LETTER XIX. AFFLUENCE AND POVERTY. The two death-beds and the two widows . . 239 LETTER XX. THE MONSTER EVIL. The dark side of the picture Work for all Intemperance Successful workers A village Sober refreshment houses Work in Bristol Visit to the gin palaces Extract from Grelette's memoirs Gentlemen's work An illustration . 253 xii CONTENTS. LETTER XXI. THE CONCLUSION. Christian liberty Discouragements Encourage- ments Mothers' meetings Young girls How to befriend them Penitentiaries Married men Young men Conclusion . . .277 APPENDIX. AN OUTSTRETCHED HAND TO THE FALLEN . 30! THE MINISTRY OF LOVE TO THE FALLEN . 307 LETTER FROM MRS. SHEPPARD TO THE AUTHORESS 315 LETTER I, torarapimts to "The more worthy any soul is, the larger is its compassion." Lord Bacon. MY DEAR FRIEND, I am glad to find you were interested and encouraged by the scripture quotations I sent you. They were written for our encouragement. In truth, I do not wonder that you had become dis- heartened in your district work, and found it a heavy business, having learned that your best motive for undertaking it was over-persuasion, and because good people thought it was your duty to do it. For a work of this nature, we at least require to be fully persuaded in our own minds that it is our duty. I know something of the class of workers which is made by these barren unsustained motives, and I can scarcely tell, which is most to be pitied, the district visitor, or the district people ; they are both in evil case, and likely soon to be weary and hopeless of each other. It is well, that under such circumstances, you retained a hope of better things, and did not abandon your work in despair. You wish me to give you some good rules to assist you in carrying out your work. I have been 4 SCRIPTURE ENCOURAGEMENTS reflecting on my past relations to the poor, there are some feelings that often deeply affect me ; and principally thankfulness, that my inclination and position in life, have brought me into frequent and easy contact with them. Then comes sorrow remorseful sorrow, that my opportunities to help and comfort them have to a great extent been wasted, through selfishness, ignorance, and care- lessness ; and now that my days are fast shortening, an ardent desire takes possession of my mind, to use more diligently and faithfully the opportunities which may remain. The harvest was never more plenteous than now the call for willing, wise- hearted labourers never sounded louder from many a district, some solitary over-tasked worker is crying for help. The seed lies smothered beneath heavy clods, the springing corn is trodden down in the furrows, and the sheaves are not gathered in ; the enemy is bold, strong, and subtle, and those who should help, are too many of them taking their pleasure, or seeking their own. Another conviction that deepens daily on my mind, in connexion with helping the poor, is the necessity of it for our own sakes, fully as much as for theirs ; we need it as a school, wherein to gain a true and enlarged expe- rience of life, and as a means for the growth and development of our own Christian character. No deputy can perform the ministry of love for us, and TO CHARITY. 5 hand over to us, either the experience or reward attached to it. Were we to search the Scriptures, to find in which path of Christian duty the precious pearls of promise were the most thickly scattered, I believe we should discover them in those rough ways, where the free servant, following in the steps of his dear Master, brings himself into helpful contact with his helpless fellow-creatures. So abundant, indeed, are the encouragements to do good to the poor, so attractive are the rewards promised to the work, that one might almost think the reluctant heart, even for very selfishness, might be drawn towards it. My attention has recently been turned to those portions of the Scriptures, which connect temporal rewards, with works of mercy to the poor ; and though love to Him, who hath loved us and love to our brother for His sake, should ever be our chief constraining motive, yet, seeing that He, who knows us altogether, has in His Word, connected rich rewards with this self-denying service, how gratefully should we, poor, duH-hearted, slow- paced followers, accept the animation and hope thus provided for us ! Perhaps you may never have fully considered, the fair ground of advantage upon which the merciful man stands in the Scriptures ; perhaps B 6 SCRIPTURE ENCOURAGEMENTS you may have been disposed to think, as many evidently do, that the receiver of charity, is the only person benefitted, and that the donor loses, what the receiver gains. Look, with me at a few pas- sages that speak a language diametrically opposite, and which prove the great weight of blessing, to lie on the side of the benefactor. It will not be difficult to make a selection, as, throughout both the Old and New Testaments, the same truth, in varied language, is continually brought out : thus " He that hath mercy on the poor, happy is he ; " and " It is more blessed to give than to receive." Some of these promises of compensation, appear so lavishly rich, that were the terms of the agree- ment between man and man, we might be inclined to suspect bribery ; but our God is a rich rewarder of those, who walk in His ways and keep His commandments. In the course of my life, I have met with not a few excellent persons, who shrink back, almost horrified, at the idea of rewards being connected with good works, and stand prepared, and ready to clap the terrible brand of " tinsound" upon any unfortunate individual, who brings prominently forward the necessity of good works. I doubt not this arises, from a jealous fear lest works of charity should be unduly exalted, and be made to occupy the place of a means, or condition of salvation. TO CHARITY. 7 Far be it from me, to put them in that place, but, as Good Works will be a principal subject in our correspondence, it would be unfortunate, if you had any suspicion of my orthodoxy ; let me there- fore briefly give you my creed upon this point. I dream of no such thing, as works of merit, before God. I believe, that The one atonement for sin, once made by Jesus Christ, is the only ground of a sinner's hope of acceptance ; and, that where this great fact, of God's free love and pardon through Christ, is received into the heart by a living faith, it then becomes the soul's salvation ; and, that good works do naturally flow from it, as its genuine fruit and effect ; and being performed through the help of the Holy Spirit, they are acceptable to God, for Christ's sake. Having said thus much, let us turn to the Scrip- tures, to prove the personal gain and privilege, which fall to the Christian's portion, when uprightly performing " good works " or the ministry of love, to his poorer brethren. I will take first a portion from the 58th chapter of Isaiah, rich enough to satisfy the soul's deepest cravings. " If thou draw out thy soul to the hungry, and satisfy the afflicted soul ; then shall thy light rise in obscurity, and thy darkness be as the noonday : and the Lord shall guide thee continually, and satisfy thy soul in drought, and make fat thy 8 SCRIPTURE ENCOURAGEMENTS bones : and thou shalt be like a watered garden, and like a spring of water, whose waters fail not" In the I5th chapter of Deuteronomy is the following command and encouragement : " If there be among you a poor man of one of thy brethren within any of thy gates, in thy land which the Lord thy God giveth thee, thou shalt not harden thine heart, nor shut thine hand from thy poor brother ; but thou shalt open thine hand wide unto him, and shalt surely lend him sufficient for his need, in that which he wanteth." " Thou shalt surely give him, and thine heart shall not be grieved when thou givest unto him : because that for this thing the Lord thy God shall bless thee in all thy works, and in all that thou puttest thine hand unto. For the poor shall never cease out of the land : therefore I command thee, saying, Thou shalt open thine hand wide unto thy brother, to thy poor, and to thy needy, in thy land." There is something striking in the expression "thy poor." We are accustomed to say "the poor," putting them at a greater distance from us, and not appropriating them as our own. David says, in the 4ist Psalm, "Blessed is he that considereth the poor: the Lord will deliver him in time of trouble. The Lord will preserve him, and keep him alive ; and he shall be blessed upon the earth : and thou wilt not deliver him unto TO CHARITY. 9 the will of his enemies. The Lord will strengthen him upon the bed of languishing : thou wilt make all his bed in his sickness." Again " He that hath pity upon the poor lendeth unto the Lord ; and that which he hath given will He pay him again." " He that giveth unto the poor shall not lack." Our Saviour says " Give, and it shall be given unto you, good measure, pressed down, and shaken together, and running over, shall men give into your bosom ; for with the same measure that ye mete withal it shall be measured to you again." And, " Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy." He warns his followers against giving alms ostentatiously, lest they lose the open reward of their Father in heaven. The apostles do not recognize as true religion, that, which has not true charity as its evidence. In writing to Titus, St. Paul says, " This is a faithful saying, and these things I will that thou affirm constantly, that they which have believed in God might be careful to maintain good works. These things are good and profitable unto men." St. John says, "Whoso hath this world's good, and seeth his brother have need, and shutteth up his bowels of compassion from him, how dwelleth the love of God in him ? My little children, let us 10 SCRIPTURE ENCOURAGEMENTS not love in word, neither in tongue, but in deed and in truth." St. James declares what the Spirit teaches him on this subject, thus : " Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, to visit the fatherless and the widow in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world." I do not know if any other rendering has been found, for any part of the following charge of St. Paul to Timothy. " Charge them that are rich in this world, that they be not highminded, nor trust in uncertain riches, but in the living God, who giveth us richly all things to enjoy ; that they do good, that they be rich in good works, ready to distribute, willing to communicate ; laying up in store for themselves a good foundation against the time to come, that they may lay hold on eternal life." I might multiply quotations to any extent, but these few are clear and conclusive, as to the duty of exercising brotherly kindness to the poor, and to the promise of abundant temporal blessing connected with its fulfilment I will only add that sublime parable in the 25th chapter of St. Matthew's Gospel, where our Lord draws the picture of the judgment of the " Great Day," when all the nations of the earth shall be assembled before the throne of His glory to receive their final award. Silently, TO CHARITY. 1 1 passing by the great heroes and heroines in the world's history, with their mighty achievements, and marvellous attainments taking no notice of the miracles of asceticism, or the pyramids of formal religious observances He stoops to notice with divine complacency, and to reward as done unto Himself, the simplest offices of self-denying love. " Come ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat ; I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink ; I was a stranger, and ye took me in ; naked, and ye clothed me ; I was sick, and ye visited me ; I was in prison, and ye came unto me. Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me." Whatever might have been the guilt of that lost company, who were consigned to everlast- ing destruction from the presence of the Lord, it was their failure in these simple exercises of self- denying love, that was declared to be their crowning sin ; they had no charity ; and thus, were unfitted for companionship with Jesus, and His holy ones. If the truth contained in these passages impresses you, as it does me, you will feel that you cannot afford to cut yourself off from the blessings, which are so closely coupled with a labour of love to the poor. 12 SCRIPTURE ENCOURAGEMENTS TO CHARITY. I rejoice, that now, before your family cares have become heavy, you have determined to train your- self in this important department of a Christian woman's duty. I rejoice that you cannot be satis- fied with surface charity, or with doing by proxy, what you can do yourself. I am thankful that you have thus chosen ; it is not the case with all. I would earnestly advise you to learn the higher, and deeper branches of this work ; expound to yourself the full meaning, of that often misused word, charity ; and at the feet of Him, "who though He was rich, yet for our sakes became poor," may you learn how to feel, and how to minister to your poor brother. Expecting your next letter, I am, Yours sincerely, LETTER II. t abowr 0f " Nothing is true but love, nor ought of worth ; Love is the incense which doth sweeten earth." " O merchant ! at heaven's mart for heavenly ware, Love is the only coin which passes there." " The wine of love can be obtained of none, Save Him who trod the winepress all alone." Trench. MY DEAR FRIEND, Your earnest request that I would give you a few hints on visiting the poor, drawn from my own experience, has led me to cast a thought- ful glance over the last forty years of my life, to judge, whether any knowledge I may have gained, could be of practical value to you. I can assure you, this retrospect has not been made without pain. In looking at my poor scanty work, I have thought, that it might more fitly stand as a warning, than as an example for others ; yet, I feel the justice of your remark, that, "with the experience of so many years, I ought to have both instruction and encouragement, to give to those, who are just entering this field of labour ; and some definite ideas as to the best and wisest way, to befriend ' our poor brother.'" I have been a slow learner, and have still attained to no proficiency ; but my heart is truly in the work ; and if you will tell me some of your difficulties, I will endeavour to help you, as far as I have any capacity. I am now far advanced in life's journey, and in 1 6 THE LABOUR OF LOVE. thinking the subject over with a view to do so ; but have come to the conclusion that you will make them much better for yourself, when experience shall have shown you what you require. What I think you need most at the present time, is, to have your own principles settled, not only to be satisfied that it is right to help the poor, but to have a clear understanding of the nature of the assistance which, may deservedly claim to be called " help," and then, to learn how to render it, so that it calls forth, both in the giver and receiver, generous and grate- ful emotions. If your footing be slippery on these foundation stones, the best system of rules will do you little good. It is not uncommon for us to be more tenacious of our rules, than our principles ; but it should not be so, if our principles be sound. Our poor brothers and sisters are not like foreigners. When we know them intimately, we find them much more nearly related, than at a distance we had fancied. Except in property and education, I believe we are much alike. In the more important features of character, such as religion, morality, worth, and affection, the rich and the poor stand upon a level. We need to be more fully persuaded of this, to mix with them advantageously. An amiable and vivacious young lady was recently amusing a company of her friends, with an account of a visitation she had made through a town district THE LABOUR OF LOVE. I/ to ascertain the place of worship every family at- tended, and the school at which every child was educated ; which information she duly noted, to be reported. She related, with animated indignation, that she found many of the people very impertinent Some of us, who had a little more knowledge of human nature, were not surprised at this ; but we certainly did wonder that, any committee should appoint to such an inquisitorial office, a deputy so unfitted for it ; an angel, or a government officer, being the only individuals likely to make that scrutiny without giving offence. We should do many things differently, and better, if we remem- bered that, the conditions of riches and poverty did not materially alter the nature of men. I have heard some young district visitors take up a lamen- tation, that they really did not know what to say to poor people ; it was so difficult to say anything profitable. I have sometimes advised them to go without any prepared composition of this kind, without even a text or exhortation upon their minds ; and pay a visit to their poor neighbour, naturally, as they would to a neighbour in their own class of life, to whom they wished to be kind and helpful ; and that they need not fear but a way would open easily for them, to be, and do, all they desired. Amongst the great number of excellent ladies 1 8 THE LABOUR OF LOVE who devote themselves to the difficult and self- denying work of district visiting, there must of necessity be some, who, from different causes, make mistakes. I have heard of some, who domineer and usurp authority, as if they had a right to rule in a poor man's house ; of others, who inquisitively pry into their private history, and slender means of subsistence ; of others, who find fault without reason, and pretend to teach without knowledge it re- quires practical experience to teach wisdom to the poor of others, who form hasty judgments upon insufficient grounds ; and of others who lecture and .scold. Of course all these mistakes do mischief. With regard to lecturing and scolding, it is both unlovely and unjustifiable. Calm expostulation and affectionate entreaty, are the harshest language we are warranted to use, when we introduce our- selves into our poor neighbours' houses. " I beseech you," says the apostle ; how suitable, how comely, this sounds, and how beautifully in accordance with the apostle's spirit, is the touching account Mrs. Whiteman gives of her visit to poor deaf, drunken, hopeless, John Rawlins. In the earnestness of her faith and love, she entreated him, she declared, " You shall not be lost, you shall be saved, I will not let you go to ruin and misery." She says, " He cried, and I cried too," and she prevailed. Are there many amongst us who beseech with tears, and will THE LABOUR OF LOVE. 19 not give up ? But, oh ! what fountains of power, life, and healing are in such tears, such earnestness ! Hasty, and especially harsh judgments on the conduct of the lower classes, we should never allow ourselves to form ; so often is it, all but impossible for those in different circumstances, to appreciate their difficulties and temptations. I could give you an illustration, that would form a sad contrast to Mrs. Whiteman's conduct. It occurred many years since, but I never think of it without shame and distress, as an opportunity worse than lost for helping a poor tempted sister. We then lived in London, and nearly opposite our house stood a gin-shop (it was before the time of gin-palaces) ; it was a dirty disgusting looking place, and often resounded with oaths, songs, and quarrels. On the edge of the pavement, before the door, sat an apple woman by her little stall ; a tall, haggard, white- faced woman she was, with black straggling hair, and a careworn countenance. In all seasons of the year there she sat ; in the summer with her little bunches of cherries tied to sticks, and her small heaps of strawberries, gooseberries, and currants piled up on leaves. In the autumn, her stall was covered with pears, apples, and plums ; in winter with apples, nuts, oranges, and slices of cocoa nut. Hot or cold, wet or dry, there she was, often sitting in the rain, with her battered umbrella, partially 2O THE LABOUR OF LOVE. sheltering herself and the fruit. Sometimes in the depth of winter, I have watched her walk to and fro on the pavement for a little while, and then go into the gin-shop, presently coming out, and sitting down again, with her hopeless haggard face. In my mind, I used to blame her severely for this immoral practice, as I considered it. At that time, I had many sinkings myself, both mental and physical, and as a temporary stimulant, I often had recourse to a strong cup of coffee. I did not perceive that I, and the poor woman, were acting on the same principle, impelled by the same neces- sity ; I was trying to raise my spirits, and make myself feel more comfortable ; she was trying to do the same, and to keep out the cold. My remedy was good, hers was bad, but they produced the same temporary effect ; mine, happily, produced no after craving hers, unhappily, did ; and she some- times went home at night nearly tipsy from her often repeated turns into the ginshop. Many a lady who drinks her glass or glasses of wine, to dispel languor or depression ; many a gentleman who exhilirates his spirits with wine and ale from his own cellar, will, like me, fail to discover through the external difference, any likeness to themselves, in the poor degraded dram drinker, and may self- righteously cast a stone at her. Sometimes I have seen two or three little children come to her, THE LABOUR OF LOVE. 21 evidently her own ; one of them, a baby, was brought in the arms of a little, lank, light-haired girl about eight years old. She would take the infant, kiss it, and give it suck ; if it cried violently, she would go into the ginshop with it, and presently bring it out pacified. I have said to myself, " That wicked woman has been giving that poor little creature gin how monstrous, how dreadful ! " Then she would send the little things away alone, to make their way through the crowded streets ; and she sat on hour after hour, in order to take them home a piece of bread. I had my nurse and nursery, my soothing syrups and other comfortable things for my little ones, and I did not understand her difficulties, or sympathise with her temptations. From education and experience, I knew what was wholesome, and what deleterious. Our knowledge saves us from many dangers ; but alas ! for the very poor, and very ignorant ! Under the pressure of the present need, they take the thing that comes easiest to hand, and seems to do its work, regard- less of future consequences. I judged this poor woman, and condemned her harshly and ignorantly, and so, I left her. Had I sent her a cup of coffee, had I supplied her with something better for her infant, had she felt that the eye of a friend was watching her with a kind interest, she might have been comforted, helped, and elevated ; I might C 22 THE LABOUR OF LOVE. have led her to the Fountain of all help and com- fort but I did not ; I looked on and cried out upon her. Poor troubled, tempted, toiling woman ! I hope she will not point her finger at me, in the day when the searching light will reveal all the kind things we have left undone, that we might have done. Now I am sure you do not wish to domineer, judge, or scold in your district, nor even to satisfy yourself with saying good things ; you wish to help your poor neighbours, and to make them better and happier, for your visits ; may I then advise you as the most effectual way, to exercise your heart and imagination diligently in the heavenly art of sympathy ? We often hear it said that, sympathy is a natural gift ; it is so ; but it is an attainment also, and it must be gained, if we would ever do our Master's work, in His spirit. If sympathy be only put on, as an external dress of speech and manner, our poor friends will see through it, for they are quick to discern reality. May I advise you also not lightly to give way to discouragement ? The higher we aim, the more sure are we to find it, both in ourselves and in others. The labour of love can never be a light or trifling work. It is sure to be crowned with some good measure of success, but it may be earned, as it were, in the sweat of the brow in fearfulness, and painful ness. THE LABOUR OF LOVE. 23 A short time since I had a letter from a gentleman, who was engaged in the construction of the Bilboa and Tudela railway in Spain. In order to obtain the most desirable route for the line, it was found needful in one part, to divert the Ebro from its course, and form a new channel for it. It was a work of great labour and difficulty, as immense masses of rock had to be displaced by the process of blasting ; but as difficulty and danger never daunt the spirit of the engineer or " navvy," they laboured on vigorously during the heat of summer, when the bed of the river was dry, in order that the new channel might be completed, before the periodi- cal floods came down from the mountains. As the time drew near, the labour was incessant. At last it was finished ; they had done their part ; and the constructors lay down to rest that night content and hopeful ; and whilst they slept, "He who water- eth the hills from His chambers, and sendeth the fountains into the vallies to run amongst the hills," loosened the mountain floods, and when they looked forth in the morning, the channel of yesternight was no longer dry, the waters that were to gladden the waste places were already flowing through it My correspondent told me, that in blasting these rocks, the workmen sometimes found the honey of the wild bee stored away in the crevices. I thought there was instruction in this little 24 THE LABOUR OF LOVE. incident of railway labour, to encourage us to work diligently and hopefully having faith that streams of blessing, from the eternal Fountain, are waiting to flow into the channels we prepare for them ; and that still, there is honey hidden in the secret fissures of the rock, to surprise the faith, and gladden the heart of the faithful labourer. " Dig channels for the streams of love, Where they may broadly run ; And love has overflowing streams, To fill them every one." We, women, often need to remind ourselves, and to be reminded, that, we are never so likely to be honoured, beloved, useful, and happy, as when we are faithful to the instincts implanted in our woman's nature ; which, by their secret instigations, prompt us to the cheerful discharge of the self- denying and pleasing duties of domestic life ; and lead us also to supply liberally the silent streams of unobtrusive charity. If there be cause for the fear, not unfrequently expressed, that our English home, (so long boasted of, as the bit of paradise still left in the world), is now gradually deterio- rating, through the loss of its fairest feature of domesticity how anxiously should every woman, who is jealous for the honour of her sex, and the true glory of her country, strive to avert an evil THE LABOUR OF LOVE. 2$ so incalculably and deplorably mischievous in its effects. Oh ! I do trust that the honourable matron, the devoted mother, the modest domestic daughter, may never cease to be the grace and ornament of the homes of old England. Nevertheless, from my heart, I could cordially welcome amongst us a venerable company of ancient matrons, descended in a right line, from the excellent woman of the 3 1st chapter of Proverbs. And if they could be persuaded to go through the length and breadth of the land, to teach our ladies, some of their ancient principles of domestic management, we might all be able to take a higher position, both in wisdom and dignity. I always have a rejoicing sense of the beauty and goodness of the female character, when I read of that virtuous woman, whose children rose up and called her blessed ; whose husband praised her ; and had no need to take spoils, because of her industrious, careful, and comfortable management ; whose household feared not for the snow, being clothed with double garments ; and who stretched forth her hands to the poor, while the law of kind- ness and wisdom dwelt upon her tongue. Is she not worthy of our imitation ? Yours sincerely, LETTER III, $attp*r Trifles, lighter than straws, are levers in the building up of character." Tupper. MY DEAR FRIEND, I am sorry to find you making the old common complaint, that indolence, imposi- tion, and jealousy abound in your district. I fear whether our present system of relief, and regular inspection, may not have a tendency to foster these evils, by weakening the true independence and self-respect of the working classes ; were it not so, we should scarcely hear from so many visitors the same complaint that the poor are continually becoming more wasteful, imposing, ungrateful, deceitful, and jealous ; and that the charity, they are content to receive, is doing them more harm morally, than physically it does them good. I have long observed that com- plaints of this kind, come the loudest from parishes where the most completely systematized chain of relief societies exist ; where the poor, in fact, are completely undertaken, their wants provided for, and their responsibilities,, to a considerable extent, lifted from them. 30 THE PAUPER SPIRIT. I once lived in a large town where the inspection was so universal, and gift charity so abundant, that indolent mothers might almost support their fami- lies by begging, whilst their husbands spent their earnings in drinking. The inhabitants of a district, know, that the lady comes on purpose to discover and relieve want ; she enters every house with a sort of authority to do so ; she holds an office which empowers her to give gifts why should not they get something from her ? and why not quite as much as any of their neighbours ? If the lady do not come to help them, why does she intrude herself at all ? They will naturally argue thus, and use their best skill to make a good tale for them- selves. They will hide their means and helps, and display their wants ; they will slip the piece of meat into the cupboard, and place the " beautiful tract " upon the table ; they will privately slander their neighbours for their own advantage, and im- pose upon the credulity, or good nature of their visitor. It is in human nature to do all this, and much more, under the temptation of such circum- stances ; and what is to prevent the character of the poor being lowered by it, unless the visitor be able to weave the warp of her material charity with a wisdom so truly high-hearted and beneficent, that it should have power, at least to neutralise the evils of alms-giving ? Bare alms-giving, neither satisfies THE PAUPER SPIRIT. 31 God nor man ; the heart has cravings far keener than the body, which no soup kitchen, no money fund, no ticket system can possibly appease ; but, " draw out thy soul to the hungry, and satisfy the afflicted soul," then, both will be nourished together. In the town just named, the inhabitants in some of the districts, mentioned it almost boastingly, that, they did not neighbour with any one. I knew it, and that they did not help each other in sickness, or render any of the gratuitous assistance, which poor people are so ready to give under natural circumstances ; they were in truth afraid of each other, lest any disadvantageous report of them might be made to the district lady, from whom they designed to obtain relief. One of these women, who spent her mornings in begging, came to me one day, and offered her child for my accep- tance ; she wished I would bring him up for my own ; she would not care to see him any more he was a beautiful little fellow. This offer would never have been made by any industrious woman, who worked hard for her family. My experience in this place, I found to agree with that of the most reflective visitors. To originate anything like the pauper spirit in a district, is the most cruel and dangerous thing we can do, because of its perilous power in under- mining manly, self-reliant character yet, in going 32 THE PAUPER SPIRIT. regularly from house to house, on the business of giving help, it would seem to require all but the wisdom of an angel, to avoid it ; especially as, under such circumstances, we are so liable our- selves, to slip into the routine spirit of mass work ; in which, we fail to discern the delicate lines of separate individualities ; and doing so, weaken character in its strongest support of self-respect : thus, for instance if a man discover, that his visitor's interest in him, is confined only to those circumstances which connect him in a mass, with poverty and charity, his character will probably be lowered by it. There is a natural desire in every man to have himself acknowledged, apart from his lowest conditions, and especially by those, whose opinion he values. Perhaps, more or less, we are all apt to think of ourselves, as we know others think of us, and commonly remain at about the level their opinion assigns to us. What is expected from us, is generally produced, and the poor man forms no exception to this rule ; if we honour him, he will respect himself his energy, his ambition, his hope, his faith will come into exercise, he will find his powers ; if we despise, or neglect him, he will sink lower, or remain patiently under the dull load of his inferior condition a word, a look, an action, may, humanly speaking, under some cir- cumstances, almost save or ruin a man so slight, THE PAUPER SPIRIT. 33 so delicate, yet so irresistible are the influences we exert on each other ; and I am sure, it is quite as easy, without great wisdom, to pauperise the spirit of people dwelling in their own houses, as if they were really the inmates of a Union. In this great country of ours, overlaid with prosperity, underlaid by adversity, we doubtless must have societies, institutions, combinations mani- fold, to prevent the rising of the under currents to swamp the whole ; but the finer, more delicate, more heavenly work of Christian charity, is not often done by these. It is not great power that is required, but the electric touch of love, of self- denying help, and sympathy. It should be a very serious reflection to those who occupy the higher ranks of life, that their influence and example, by a natural tendency, descend to the lower ranks, thus making them to an untold extent, responsible for the character and habits of those beneath them. This is a hateful burthensome thought to the proud and selfish nature, which would gladly spurn from it such a mean restraint To the upright thoughtful Chris- tian, it is a solemn consideration, but mingled with hope. Is it not wonderful how little at present, we seem to comprehend the true working principles of our common nature? Thus, in judging of the class 34 THE PAUPER SPIRIT. beneath us, how apt we are to imagine them, influenced by motives, and in ways altogether different from ourselves ; and to perplex ourselves to devise schemes to produce upon them the effects we desire. We may be safely assured, that we never get so far refined away from the original stock, but that we may use our own key to unlock our poor neighbour's heart, and find that, " What- soever ye would that men should do unto you, do ye the same unto them," is a language and practice, that he is quite able to comprehend and appreciate. We need, dear friend, to redeem our daily life from its selfishness and commonplace, by dwelling under a nobler inspiration, by which we might prac- tically evidence, that we have a high vocation and a holy calling. How can the soul grow heavenward, that has its deepest interests taken up with the little shows, vanities, and pleasures, which begin and terminate in self ? but who has not found it hard work to rise entirely superior to them ? The dog- matic voice of fashion, the multiplied refinements of life, and the perplexing conventionalities of artificial society, too often act as a choke-damp upon the spiritual life of the soul, and make it all but impossible to maintain a simple, honest integ- rity of purpose and action, within the sphere of their influence. " The lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, and the pride of life," are as dangerous THE PAUPER SPIRIT. 35 to the Christian's piety, as the whirling vortex of the Maelstrom to the bark of the unwary mariner. We must daily strive to find a stronger attraction which draws heavenward, away from the world's bondage, into the holy liberty of Christ Yours truly, LETTER IV. , 0mi in ijj* gisirin. "Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it." Proverbs xxii. 6. "When is the human heart found to be so ductile to the motives of religion, as in the simple, ingenuous age of childhood ? How easy is it then, as compared with the stubbornness of adult years, to make all wrong seem odious all good, lovely and desirable ! " Bushnell. I) MY DEAR FRIEND, You wish to have my hints placed before you more in detail, that you might practi- cally transfer them to your district You would find that plan both difficult and profitless. Every visitor will carry out the minutiae of her work, according to her own peculiar gifts, and nature ; and though you and I, might start with the same principles, we should probably work very differently ; just because, we should act like ourselves ; and it makes but poor tame work to be copying another, when we come in contact with suffering human nature ; the stream must then flow from our own fountain. Our most anxious endeavour in visiting the poor, should be, to meet appropriately, and very conside- rately, the real need of each varying case ; this is the true help which is sure to give satisfaction ; but, if when a woman wants sympathy, she receives money ; or when requiring food, receives advice ; we need not be surprised that she is dissatisfied, or that she is jealously suspicious that her neighbour has managed to get something better from the lady. 40 A VISIT IN THE DISTRICT. Patient sympathy, and discriminating aid, have the true essence of help in them ; and they bring forth in the receiver, an honest, healthy feeling of gratitude, which, is of itself, antagonistic to the pauper spirit. This work is not rapid ; neither does it carry with it much show, or sound ; but, it is the slow and sure labour of love, that tells in the end. I doubt not we may both have seen, and perhaps pursued a line of conduct the opposite to this for instance when a poor man's long history of dis- tress, may have been impatiently cut short by a dive into the pocket, for a shilling or sixpence, which is expected to meet every want, and heal every wound. If the man is not satisfied, he is an undeserving, ungrateful fellow. I met recently with the following remarks, which I thought could scarcely be pondered without profit. "With all our activity and boldness of movement, there is a certain hardness and rudeness, a want of sensibility to things that do not lie in action, which cannot be too much deplored, or too soon rectified. We hold a piety of conquest, rather than of love. A kind of public piety, that is strenuous and fiery on great occasions, but wants the beauty of holi- ness, wants constancy, singleness of aim, loveliness, purity, richness, blamelessness, and if I may add another term not so immediately religious, but one that carries, by association, a thousand religious qualities wants domesticity of cha- racter." A VISIT IN THE DISTRICT. 41 You wish I could take a round with you in your District, and give you advice in some of your diffi- cult cases. I cannot do that, but we can readily suppose some cases ; therefore let us follow if you please, an imaginary lady, and observe her conduct in various circumstances, and make our remarks upon it. We will not suppose her to be perfect, only a common woman ; but earnest, simple, and kind-hearted ; one, who loves her Master, and her neighbour, and wishes to love and serve both better. We will imagine her in her home, reading an interesting book, and feeling no inclination to leave the fireside. The district work looks dull, discou- raging, onerous, and her thoughts rest rather impatiently upon one family in particular; they flow in a disjointed train, somewhat after this manner "All I do for these people is swallowed up, and they are no better off; I am getting quite out of heart about them ; the husband seems to be always out of work, I can hardly tell why ; the wife is a poor sickly thing, and a bad manager I am sure. The house is always in confusion ; the children are always ragged and dirty, and are never kept to school regularly. Surely she might keep them clean if they are ragged, there is no excuse for dirt. I remember the doctor said, the woman ought to have meat ; I did give her a ticket for 42 A VISIT IN THE DISTRICT. some ; but no doubt she spoilt it in the cooking, she is such a bad manager, and there seems nothing in the house to manage with ; and I hear now, that her biggest boy has got himself into trouble has been caught with bad companions, thieving ; I really think the best thing for them, would be to go into the workhouse, they must come to it at last I almost think I must scold her a little to-day." Arrived so far in her mental soliloquy, the lady discovers, or is shown, the cold unsympathising state of her heart, and before she goes abroad, she retires to her own room ; and with a humbled spirit, she asks for the mind of her Master, and for wisdom, and love for her work. She sits down, and tries to " draw out her soul," and bring herself into sympathy with that poor sickly woman, by taking her position, and feeling down into her circum- stances. She fancies herself the weary occupant of that comfortless room in the alley ; she gives her imagination play, and finds herself intending to wash the clothes that look so dirty, (she has just said, there is no excuse for dirt), she gathers to- gether a few of the children's clothes, only a few of them can be spared, as they have no change ; the rest must be washed when they are in bed. She pulls off one of the sheets, but feels that she has not the strength to wash it, and if she had, how can it A VISIT IN THE DISTRICT. 43 be dried ? there is no place to hang it up out of doors ; and with the children all about, how can it be dried in that little room ? Besides, there is only a shovel full of coals left, and who knows where the next are to come from ? She will give up the washing to-day, for the piece of soap is grown very thin, and will not hold out. She will clean the house instead, the floor is so very dirty ! But here again, difficulties meet her there is neither broom, house-cloth, nor scrubbing brush (brushes are so dear ! quite beyond a poor woman's means to buy them), the handle, too, is off the water bucket, and the water has to be brought from a distance. She would like to polish up that dull stove a bit, to make a neat fireside, but there has not been a penny to spare for blacklead for a long time, and the hair of the brush is worn down to the wood it is of no use. Oh ! how tired and discouraged she begins to feel ! how she would like some nice little thing to eat, or better than all, a cup of tea to refresh herself with ; but since her husband has been out of work, she has not had any tea is so expensive, and they have no credit, and there is only a little piece of bread in the house, and the children must have that. She will leave cleaning the house to-day, and mend the children's clothes ; but the baby is teething, and very fretful ; well it must fret, she cannot nurse it now ; but oh ! how it 44 A VISIT IN THE DISTRICT. worries her to hear it cry ! It can't be helped ; if these biggest holes are not drawn together, the things will be quite gone ; but how the rags tear like a cobweb ! they have been patched all over, and now she has nothing to patch them with ; and the flannel petticoats are completely worn out, and flannel is so expensive ! where will the next come from ? She cannot find a bit of tape or a button, she is out of everything. Her husband's rheu- matism came on from taking cold flannel would be a good thing for him, poor fellow ! he used to wear flannel waistcoats when they were better off ; she wishes he was in regular work again, for he does not like to come home and hear the children cry, he cannot bear it, it makes him cross ; and he is getting into the habit of sitting down in the public-house in the evening, it is warmer there, and one or other treat him with a little drink she is afraid about it ; and there's her poor boy he was too good-natured, poor fellow ! and the naughty boys enticed him away, and imposed upon him ; if he is sent to prison, it will break her heart ; she wishes she had a friend who would speak for her to the gentleman who had him taken up, he might look over it, as it was the first offence but she has no friend to intercede for her ; if the district lady would sit down, she would ask her about it, and tell her all the truth, but Oh dear ! A VISIT IN THE DISTRICT. 45 At the sight of this picture, the district lady's heart and conscience are smitten and awakened, and she exclaims aloud, " Poor dear woman ! how can she endure her life how can she hold on so patiently ? " She now leaves her room, she calls her own children round her, and draws this picture before them : she says, " Here is an opportunity for you to be kind, my children which of you will give your nice meat dinner, once in the week, to this poor woman, that she may get strong again, and be able to help her little children ? " and almost before the words are spoken, they spring forward, one, and all, and say, " I will, I will ! " for a well-trained child delights in pitiful kindness. Several dinners are thus provided for the poor mother; then she asks her little boy, "Will you spare one of your pretty toys for these poor little children, who have nothing to play with, and no nice garden to run about in ? " and the little fellow, fired with a kindred generosity, brings an armfull of his toys, as a willing offering. It is a great injustice to children not to cultivate into self-denial, their spontaneous benevolence. Now, the visitor's heart is filled with humble thankfulness and human sympathy, and she goes forth, not hopeless, to that before hopeless family ; she now knows what to say to them. Directly she 46 A VISIT IN THE DISTRICT. speaks, the poor woman sees that the lady under- stands her difficulties, and has measured her distress. She can open her heart to her that poor oppressed sinking heart ; and the words the lady speaks, are fit words ; and the help she offers, will not go wide of the mark, for she knows very nearly what is wanted. She speaks to the husband also, as to a man who has a heart, and a hope, a duty, and a difficulty. She will help him if she can ; if she do not, he will know she cannot. She speaks to the boy's master, who relents at her intercession, and is glad not to prosecute the lad. Oh ! she is much more than a District lady to them now they call her by her own name Mrs. So-and-so, she belongs to them, not to the district. A connection of mutual blessing and mutual benefit is established between them yes, between her family and their family ; both, are richer, better, happier ; and the lady feels it to be so, and goes to her room again, and thanks God, and does not blaze abroad the matter. How much more thankfully does she appreciate the advantages of her own lot, the comforts of her home, the plenty of her table. We only know the fullest relish of the fat and the sweet, when we send portions to those for whom nothing is prepared. It is God's appointment that it should be so, and that our happiness, is in proportion to that, which we impart A VISIT IN THE DISTRICT. 47 Poor people, are sure to judge of our religion by our deeds, and not by our creed. This family now believes in the visitor's religion, because she is so very kind and pitiful ; and the next time she visits them, they will be prepared to listen with respectful attention, if her careful anxiety extend to their soul's welfare also ; which undoubtedly it will do. I do not say it would be so, if the relief had been simply alms-giving, without this drawing out of the soul. They would have thought them- selves lucky to get something, and would hope to get more of the same kind. Poor people, always think those above them are rich, and easily able to afford them aid ; and as to advice, that is never supposed to cost anything ; but, thoughtful heart sympathy, every one feels it to be the costliest thing, both to give and to receive. I shall make my letter too long if we go into another house to-day ; and this may be sufficient to suggest some thoughts. Yours sincerely, LETTER V. in tl* istrut " Virtue is not only seen to be right, it is felt to be delicious. There is happiness in the very wish to make others happy. There is heart's ease, or heart's enjoy- ment, even in the first purposes of kindness, as well as in its subsequent performances." Chalmers. MY DEAR FRIEND, We will now follow our good District lady into another house, where she has herself learned many lessons, from the cheerful submission, and patient endurance of its inmates ; and the fact, that they have benefitted her, by their example, she does not conceal, but gratefully acknowledges it to them ; and to hear, that they have conferred a benefit upon her, whilst they imagined themselves only barren sufferers, goes with comfort to their hearts ; and gives a certain value to their existence, and a satisfaction in their allotment, not realized before. "To honour all men," to acknowledge cordially the talent committed to another, is an exercise of justice and benevolence in which, we are very apt to be defective. We forget that different talents are given to different persons, for the benefit of the family at large, and should be thankfully accepted, and honoured as such. In this house, the husband is slowly recovering from a severe illness. The doctor has advised him 52 SECOND VISIT IN THE DISTRICT. to sit up two or three hours in the day, that he may regain his strength faster ; but his back is so weak, that he cannot sit upon his own hard, un- easy chairs. The lady sits down by his bedside, not anxious to speak herself, but willing to hear patiently everything he has to say. It brings a change to an invalid, to speak to a kind friend ; it does him good like a medicine ; and when he stops, she knows what to say ; and she speaks to him in a sweet and cheerful voice, (not too cheerful) as if she were sitting by one of her own friends. Refine- ment and gentleness, have a great charm in a poor man's house ; gentleness is contagious ; it is almost impossible to speak roughly, to one who speaks softly who has not remarked the involuntary way in which the voices of two speakers, rise or fall into the same key? When she has endeavoured to amuse and encourage him, she selects a short por- tion of scripture, or asks him to select one ; she reads it, intelligently and slowly ; she speaks a little, and leads him to speak, but it is evident there is no routine in this part of her visit ; and when she takes her departure, she leaves behind her a hopeful confidence, that a kind Providence, and not a blind chance, is ordering the poor man's lot for good. Immediately she enters her own house, she looks round upon all her easy chairs, (most houses in the present day, are provided with one or two more SECOND VISIT IN THE DISTRICT. 53 than are needed), and she dedicates one of them to be an itinerant invalid chair amongst her poor sick neighbours. She sends it to the man's house, with the addition of a little pillow to 'put in at the back, and a small blanket to wrap the invalid in ; and she intends to keep her healthy young people out of the easy chairs for the future. The man, and his wife, are struck with a great surprise, that the gentlewoman has discovered that their backs, are like her back. This chair, knits between them, the tie of confidence and friendship ; she is their friend, they could not impose upon her ; they feel themselves now of more importance not set up, but their hearts are warmed they have received a kindness proceeding from the heart, and one, which they know has cost some self denial. The extent of the sacrifice, they would be likely greatly to overrate ; but it helps them somehow, to believe in better times ; she has raised them by her tenderness. "Thy gentleness," says the Psalmist, " has made me great." Their hearts wait upon her for counsel ; she sees her influence for good ; and she thanks God, and does not blaze abroad the matter. The sweetness of our Master's "Well done," is often lost in the clamour of the world's "Well done." As we are not fully acquainted with this lady's pecuniary resources, nor her more legitimate claims, we cannot decide whether she should do anything 54 SECOND VISIT IN THE DISTRICT. more for these people, whom she finds entirely desti- tute of luxuries, and very short of comforts but this is what happened. After dinner, when helping her children from a dish of delicious strawberries, she told them about this poor man how weak he was, and how parched his mouth was with fever and thirst. Her little boy at once pushed his plate away from him, and said, " Mamma ! don't you think that poor man would like my strawberries ? He shall have them if you like" and then they all talked together ; and the children begged their mamma not to buy them any more fruit till the poor man was well ; but to buy something for him with the money ; and they calculated how much money there would be saved, and were delighted to find how many little comforts might be procured for him, through giving up this luxury. No one who has not made the experiment, would believe, how many lessons of practical wisdom and humanity, children may learn in helping the poor, nor how much happiness they will gain by it them- selves ; so true it is, that " happiness is a road-side flower, growing on the highway of usefulness." We may train our children to a large-hearted benevo- lence, or to engrossing selfishness. If the common diet of our children, were more like that of the noble youths of the captivity in Babylon, I believe they would not only be fatter, SECOND VISIT IN THE DISTRICT. 55 fairer, and more robust in their bodies, but better tempered, kinder hearted, and clearer headed. If there be one thing more than another, directly cal- culated to make " happy childhood " miserable and selfish, it is to allow them an unrestrained, over full, rich, and stimulating diet. Look at the joyous child who jumps down from his simple breakfast of bread-and-milk, and runs away, ready for anything. Look at another child, who drags himself off his seat, after partaking largely of coffee, hot rolls, ham, or potted meat, looking back to the table again with lingering eyes. We cannot keep children's tastes too simple, both in diet, dress, and habits. The metal of the child's character must be formed early ; the soul must be trained to govern the body, and not to be its slave. A noble life of truth, humanity, and reverence should be lived before him, and its influence will fall upon the ductile nature, that is gathering in its character, and moulding itself, after the pattern of all its surroundings. How frequently we hear the expression from a delighted parent, "He imitates everything he sees." What an awful responsibility rests with her, that he should see, and hear, only what is good and lovely. By constant repetition, im- pressions of goodness and beauty become indelible, and they are most congenial to the nature of a young child. I love little children, and I must 56 SECOND VISIT IN THE DISTRICT. confess that I have no sympathy with persons, who speak of them only as hopeless little sinners, who must come to a considerable development of sin- fulness, before they can be converted. I know that a child's conversion, like that of an adult, is the effect of God's love in Christ Jesus, received into the heart ; but, as God Himself declares, that out of the mouth of babes and sucklings, He has perfected praise ; why should we esteem our children ever too young, to be drawn into this new and blessed life. I believe there is no period of life, when, humanly speaking, it is so easy, and so much in accordance with the will of God, that conversion should take place, as in youth ; but, if we hold to the doctrine, that, " they must sow their wild oats first," we shall not labour hopefully, to make room for the " Tree of life." Where, a wise and heavenly training is commenced early and prayerfully, as " the nurture and admonition of the Lord," I feel well assured, that we should not unfrequently see our little children choosing the good, and refusing the evil, and might say, as our blessed Lord did, in looking at the little ones in Jerusalem, " Of such is the kingdom of heaven." The education of chil- dren in some families, is careless, even to cruelty evil, is not only suffered to surround them, but is thrust upon them. A gardener, would never expose the tender plants in his conservatory, to the perils SECOND VISIT IN THE DISTRICT. 57 to which some parents expose their tender little plants ; he would never give them in charge to an ignorant, ill-conditioned boy, as children are con- signed to ignorant, ill-conditioned nursemaids ; he prepares the soil, measures the heat, regulates the moisture, watches every symptom of blight, and with diligent care, developes every leaf, flower, and fruit to its most beautiful state of perfection. Oh ! how exquisite are the unblemished plants that grow up in conservatories under such care ; and what a contrast are they to some of our nursery plants, exposed to almost every fortuity of evil influence. I think I hear you say, " But our little human plants are not like those in the conservatory ; they have the taint and root of sin in them." They have, dear friend ; therefore, the more need of care to check its development, and to nourish the heavenly affinities of the soul, by keeping them constantly under the gracious influences of the waiting Spirit, ever, I believe, watching to draw little ones into the ways of love and peace. The following simple anecdote was related to me a short time since : A happy little girl was walking with her mother on the borders of a wood. A wren flew across the path, and perching on a larch tree, began to sing ; the child stopped, and ex- claimed, "Oh, mamma, look at that little dear!" '58 SECOND VISIT IN THE DISTRICT. " Pretty creature ! " said her mamma ; " it is God's little dear, Mary ; listen, how sweetly it sings." " Yes," cried the child, clapping her hands together, " it is God's little dear, it will always have plenty to eat." I thought how easily this faith in God's kind providence to the bird, might be trained into a personal faith ; and remain as a conscious, happy fact, in the soul of that young child : and we may thankfully remember, in training our children, that the Holy Spirit can teach them through God's gracious works, as well as through His gracious word. We have been straying a long way from the district, but not far out of the circle of a mother's duty, and I cannot forget your two dear children, whilst I write about your poor neighbours it is all one work, only in different fields. Yours sincerely, LETTEE VI. Wuil in tt istritt ' Many a father hath erred, in that he hath withheld reproof, But more have mostly sinned, in withholding praise where it was due ; There be many such as Eli among men ; but these be more culpable than Eli, Who chill the fountain of exertion by the freezing looks of indifference." Tupper. BEFORE we pay our next visit in the district, I will answer your two questions. " Do I think that only religious persons are adapted to visit the poor ? " Far from it ; for whilst those should be pre- eminently qualified for this labour of love, who have learned in their own experience, something of the Divine love, still, humanity and kindness, are the obligation and privilege of all men ; and not un- frequently, I believe, does the Holy Spirit attract into this lowly, self-denying path of usefulness, those, who shall eventually come to know of the ful- ness of the love of God to themselves. There are many parts of this work, for which young persons are admirably qualified, if they are but simple and kind, and do not take upon themselves to teach, what they do not understand. The distribution of tracts, the collection of club money, and Bible subscriptions, visiting children, or reading to those who cannot read themselves, properly belong to them ; and if any young lady did know how to make cheap soup, or nice gruel, or to cut out articles of clothing neatly, and economically, it might indeed be a great advantage to all parties. 62 THIRD VISIT IN THE DISTRICT. In that remarkable description of the spiritual body, united to its Head, it is said to be, by that, which every joint supplieth, and according to the effectual working in the measure of every part, that increase of the whole body is made, to the edifying of itself in love. This example is very instructive and suggestive in all combinations for useful work. Your other remark is this " If so much thought and time are given to the poor, would not our more immediate duties be neglected ? " I have always found that one helps the other ; but, if there be any danger, that our strictly individual and family duties be neglected, by ministering to the poor, then certainly, the ministration of the poor is not our duty; but I incline to the belief, that, when our time is held as a talent, and when want of health, or providential arrangements do not interfere to prevent, we should seldom find it needful to neglect our poor neighbours altogether ; and those who do it, would, in many ways, be great losers themselves. Our beloved queen finds opportunities, and I have no doubt would acknow- ledge that, she gains, more than she gives. To visit the poor, is on all hands acknowledged to be a Christian duty ; and as no one can judge for another, every one must have his conscience clear in the sight of God about it. You say truly, " There are needs in all classes THIRD VISIT IN THE DISTRICT. 63 which require a self-denying service from us" which service, I would reply, as truly forms a part of the Christian's duty. I had not entered these fields of charity, because our subject confined us to the poor, but, I am well aware, there is want every- where often a bitter hunger of soul, where the table groans with plenty ; nakedness and deformity, where taste reigns triumphant ; dungeon imprison- ment, where no bonds appear ; and a lack of all things in the lap of luxury. Ah ! yes, the world is full of needs, but God in His love can supply them all ; so in hope and faith, let all work ; and we will go again into the alley, for that is our present business. The lady is this time met by a very common occurrence : a respectable and thoughtful woman, has a pretty young daughter about fourteen years old, and she is wanting to find a place of service for her ; she wishes she could get her into a gentle- man's house, but Mary knows nothing more than she has been taught at home, and ladies do not like the trouble of girls ; she has heard of a place at the " Jolly Companions," in Low Lane, where the mistress wants a girl to look after her children, and has taken a great fancy to Mary ; but the mother does not like young girls to be dragging about the streets with children ; and beside that, she would be wanted to go into the bar in the evening, and 64 THIRD VISIT IN THE DISTRICT. would be sure to hear and see things, not fitting for girls, and she is afraid of the exposure and tempta- tion for her young daughter ; but is sure she does not know what to do ; her husband has now but little work, and Mary is old enough to go into service, and earn her own living " what would the lady advise ? " Now, what can, what may the lady do ? She scarcely sees yet ; she advises the woman, at any rate, not to let Mary go to the " Jolly Com- panions," and she will think about it She knows the girl has been well brought up at home. She walks home meditating and perplexed ; but pre- sently, hears down in some secret recess of her heart or conscience this whisper, " Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do ye even the same unto them," and her thoughts naturally turn to her own sweet daughter about the same age. Thoughtfully, she reverses their position in life ; and speedily finds her heart enlarging with tender compassion, and motherly interest for poor Mary, now entering the trial of life, without expe- rience, and with feelings pliable to every impression. She might certainly take her into her own house for a short time, and put her under the care of her servants, to teach her a few of the plain and com- mon things that belong to house service, and if she seemed likely to turn out well, she might be able to recommend her to a safe and suitable place THIRD VISIT IN THE DISTRICT. 65 but girls are such a trouble ! Then, she remembers for whose sake she might do a kindness to this little one ; and her mind is made up. She always has her husband's free consent, to any simple Christian work ; but she must speak to her servants. A mistress is prevented from doing many things, which have the vital spirit of Christian charity in them, unless her servants are fellow-workers with her, partakers of the same blessing ; but with a reasonable, and kind mistress, this is not often the greatest difficulty. Pity for the destitute, is natural both to servants and children, unless it be, those who have been spoiled, and made altogether selfish. We, reason upon the causes of destitution ; they, generally do not ; where we blame, they pity, and with the present fact of want, connect present relief ; they are pleased to have the ministration of charity pass through their hands, and thus, in some sort, to become benefactors. The lady knows this, and has faith in the fact now. She describes this case to her servants, and finds it is the very thing they can understand, and sympathise with ; they remember how it was with themselves, in their first service ; and they are more than willing to unite with their mistress to help this young girl ; they know her, and if they had grown a little negligent in any of their duties before, at any rate they will teach Mary, how to do things as they should be 66 THIRD VISIT IN THE DISTRICT. done. They feel elevated, with the power acknow- ledged in them, to render an unpaid service ; they are helpers with their mistress ; and the unselfish points of interest, are increased between them. I believe we need seldom despair of the aid of respectable servants, when the subject is rightly and generously placed before them, and they are allowed to be partakers in the sweetness of the reward. It redeems their life from a little of its commonplace routine of paid duty and service. A kind cook, will gladly make broth for a poor invalid, and will take care of odds and ends, to furnish little delicacies for them ; a housemaid will be glad to take a garment she has made in her leisure hours to some orphan child ; she will be more contented in her own mind, and her crochet work will lose a charm ; for charity repays itself all the way round. " The liberal soul shall be made fat." The lady is now in a situation, to take poor Mary into her house for a short time, or, if not quite con- venient to lodge her, she can come every day ; it will be better if she can be lodged. The girl has now the opportunity to see the spirit and routine of a well-ordered house, to learn to do common things in the right way, so that she may start fair, and not have to unlearn bad habits. Her friend seeks to imbue and fortify her mind with the sound principles of domestic morality, and by a generous kindness, THIRD VISIT IN THE DISTRICT. 67 she attaches the young creature to herself, and thus obtains a permanent influence over her, of which she takes advantage, and does not suffer the child to leave her house, without taking her precious soul into the account also, as the most important end of all. With this little training, the difficulty of get- ting a desirable place is much decreased ; Mary is not quite ignorant now, and her general temper and character, can be recommended. A situation is found, and she goes to it sufficiently, and credit- ably clothed, especially with shoes and under garments ; her dress externally, is appropriately neat, and becoming. Now, Mary starts in life with a bright horizon before her, she is certain that she has a true friend, who is interested in her welfare, and expecting she will do well ; and the girl is determined she will do well, and not disappoint the expectations formed of her. The underlying thought, and strength of her mind, in her little difficulties and temptations is, that she may prove herself worthy of the confidence placed in her. Oh ! my dear friend, is it not more blessed to give, than to receive, even now ? But, when the time for giving is ended, when the naked soul flits away, to give in the account of the deeds done in the body of talents increased, or squandered of influence used for good or for evil ; how unspeakably welcome 68 THIRD VISIT IN THE DISTRICT. will be the greeting of those, who hail you as friend and benefactor, for whom you have denied yourself for Christ's sake. But who can imagine, how that welcome will sound, high above these, " Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom : " " Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me : " " They cannot recompense thee, for thou shalt be recompensed at the resurrection of the just ! " I am convinced there is no more potent influence for good, than taking literally the injunction of Charity, to hope all things, and to believe all possible good things, especially as regards servants and children. It acts upon them, as the sunshine upon flowers, which draws out, and almost creates their beautiful colour and fragrance. Look at the poor trembling creature, dwelling under repressing influences ; under the death damps of fear, dis- paragement, and discouragement. She is sullen and stupid ; the external weight and darkness have killed in her the vital power for anything good ot great ; she feels powerless, and is powerless ; it is no fancy ; she stumbles, and blunders, and forgets ; she does not know what she is doing, and she does not much care ; nobody loves her, and she loves nobody. Remove her now into opposite circum- stances ; let in the light of love and hope upon her, and let a cheerful expectation reign. Can this be THIRD VISIT IN THE DISTRICT. 69 the same girl ? Her fettered powers have burst away out of the darkness ; the poor down-pressed nature springs forth into life and energy ; the healthy current of blood flows, and glows in her cheeks ; her eyes beam and sparkle ; there is cheerfulness in her voice, and buoyancy in every step and move- ment ; the poor blundering thing has become nimble, almost graceful, in the grateful freedom of her unbound heart. Oh ! we should never depress or discourage each other ; it is a serious and cruel thing to wither the beautiful buds of the soul's increase. In more senses than one, " all things are possible to him that believeth," and impossible to the faithless and depressed. Of all the sorrowful sights this world affords, the one which affects me the most painfully is, to see the power of expansion crushed out of the life of a little child, by continual harshness and discourage- ment. Poor little creature ! what shall release the spring of joy that lies naturally coiled up in its heart ? shall it be destroyed for ever ? This thought is too much for me, I cannot bear it ; for I know well, it is no fiction, but a dreadful reality, which, day by day, is bringing forth its evil fruit, poisoning the very well-springs of happiness. Yes, my dear friend, we must try to hope all things. So, let us go into the next house. Here, the lady finds a young married couple, F 70 THIRD VISIT IN THE DISTRICT. both, at home. The furthest thing from her thought, and tongue, is the light pleasantry so common on these occasions ; and just as far from her is it, to sit down and preach a sermon on " holy matrimony ; " but with a warm sympathy she freely enters into conversation with them ; and so describes, and elevates the duties and felicities of the married state, that the young people listen with delight, and can scarcely believe that such a dignified and happy lot has fallen to them ; her lively interest and cheerful hope for them, raises them in each other's eyes, and sets them thinking how they may ensure and maintain this blest estate. Oh ! how welcome will her weekly visits be here, as the varied duties of husband and wife, father and mother, grow upon them. If she gain their affection and confidence, there will be no end to her influ- ence for good. The present day is one, when we need to use all means in our power to uphold the dignity and purity of the marriage tie ; and, I believe we must not leave the young women who have tarnished their virtue before marriage, to neglect and con- tempt, as we have done, with the view of shewing our disapprobation of such conduct ; this number is now so very great, and continually increasing, that to restore the fallen, to raise them for the THIRD VISIT IN THE DISTRICT. J\ future of the wedded life, so inauspiciously begun, will be a needful and wise policy. Leaving this house, the lady enters the next ; and here she finds a mother, who has just lost one of her children. The district visitor has often to pass suddenly from smiles to tears, from rejoicing to weeping ; and if her heart be truly tuned to sympathy, she will neglect neither, and will be sure to gain a far higher influence in dispensing this precious gift, than if she gave any amount of money. But, as I have said before, what she offers, must be genuine, must spring from a deep root in herself. If her sympathy be only donned, as bridal or mourning attire, she had better be silent, and not attempt the duty. If she attempt it in this case, let the grate- ful ejaculation of the poor heart-stricken mother be, " How that dear lady did feel for me ! " and not, " Oh ! she never lost one of her own ! " How great is the variety, which even one short street presents of human nature, human circum- stance, and human evil not forming a chaos of misery, only because of the providential watchful care of the kind, unwearied, condescending Parent of all. In this view, how deeply taught in the school and mind of Christ, should that individual be, who is continually brought into influential con- tact with these varieties ; how purified from selfish- 72 THIRD VISIT IN THE DISTRICT. ness, and established in wisdom and love ; ready also, to move freely in the teaching of the Spirit, unfettered by the practice and judgments of the world. Excuse this long letter, and believe me, Truly yours, LETTER VII. "Children, like flowers, require a calm and sunshiny atmosphere to open in ; not one, deformed by storms and foul weather." MY DEAR FRIEND, Shall I say I am sorry that the remarks I made upon ignorant nursemaids, have given you anxious thoughts about your own nursery? No rather I would say I am glad as now you may remedy what is amiss, and use precautions for the future. In many things we may be over-careful, but we can scarcely be so in the choice of the persons we allow to train the minds of our children. It is universally admitted that, the charge of im- mortal souls, is the most important of all charges that can be undertaken ; and that a parent's duties yield to none in responsibility ; but whilst con- fessing this, are there not many fathers, all but thoughtless about it, and too many mothers, who excuse their neglect, somewhat like the man in the prophet's parable, "Whilst thy servant was busy here and there, he was gone ? " Oh ! there are many precious charges which are suffered to escape from their mother, even in the nursery. Nursery misrule is unfortunately such an every-day occurrence, that it scarcely needs illustration ; but as you wish 76 THE NURSERY. for a specimen of the kind of dangers to which children's morals and tempers are so recklessly ex- posed, I will give you a little condensed sketch of three or four children, an ignorant good-natured nursemaid, and the mother " here and there." Nurse. " Don't do that, master Alfred How can you do so ? Can't you be still ? Don't touch my scissors What a naughty boy you are Now, what have you got hold of next ? I'll tell your mamma, as sure as you are born Hark ! I hear her coming." Alfred begins to cry ; " I don't know what to do, nurse what shall I do ? " Nurse. " Why, go and play, like a good boy." Alfred. "What shall I play with, nurse?" Nurse. " Oh ! I don't know don't tease me what a cry-baby you are, I should be ashamed to be such a cry-baby. Now, master Henry, what are you quarrelling with your sister for ? Give her your bricks, I say ; do you hear me ? You won't you naughty boy ! Then she won't give you her ball, that she won't will you, miss Jane? And I won't give you such a pretty thing I have I shall give it to her, and not give anything to you. Such a pretty thing ! " Henry. " Here are the bricks, Jane, you may have them ; now give me the pretty thing, nurse where is it ? " THE NURSERY. 77 Nurse. "Oh! not just now by and bye you'll see." Henry. " But you said you would give it to me now!" Nttrse. "Well, don't tease I'll give it to you some day. What are you doing there, miss Jane ? see, you have dirtied your pinafore I shall tell your mamma, and she won't give you any fruit after dinner ; she won't have such an ugly little girl go into the dining-room ; nobody will call you a pretty little girl now. Jane. " I could not help it, nurse don't tell mamma." Nurse. "Oh, yes, but I shall and you won't have any fruit, and all the others will have such a beautiful plateful ! " Jane. " Oh nurse ! don't tell mamma, please don't." Nurse. " Well, come and kiss me, and be a good girl, and I won't tell mamma." Jane puts up her mouJi to kiss; "And shall I have some fruit now ? " Nurse. " Yes, yes, you shall have some fruit ; and we'll hide away the pinafore, so that mamma does not see it. Now, who do you love best, mamma, or nurse ? " Jane. " Nurse." Nurse. " Oh ! naughty table, to knock poor little 78 THE NURSERY. Fanny's head ; naughty table! we'll beat the table." Thump, thump. "Now, master Alfred, I declare you have spilt the ink I am sure there never was such a child as you are in all the world. I shall put you in the dark closet." Alfred. " I don't care if you do, nurse." Nurse. " Oh, don't you, though ? The old man will come and carry you away, and you'll never come back again. Hark ! I hear him in the chimney now." Alfred. " I don't hear him, nurse." Nurse. " Oh ! but I did ; and if he doesn't come now, he'll come when you are in bed, all in the dark." Alfred. "Will you wipe the ink up, nurse, and I tvill be a good boy will you, nurse ? " Nurse. "Well, just this once, and I'll tell the old man not to come." A If red. " Are you sure, quite sure the old man won't come, nurse?" Nurse. " I shall tell him just this once but do you take care about another time. Goodness ! me ! what are you about, miss Jane? You little thief! I saw you take the sugar out of the basin I did how dare you steal, miss ? " Jane. "I did not steal, nurse ; I only took one piece." Nurse. " You only took it ! and what's the THE NURSERY. 79 difference I wonder, between taking and stealing you little hypocrite ! I wonder you dare tell such stories ; we shall call you a naughty thief." I think this will be quite enough to show how, even in a beautiful nursery, filled with toys, and every appliance for infantine luxury, the fair promise of childhood may be dwarfed, blighted, and demor- alized, by injudicious untrained nurses, who are left to rule in it I feel very strongly upon the wicked cruelty of coercing children by fear. As a little child I suf- fered much from it myself. Young children only know what they are told ; they expect, poor little dears, that those, whom they look up to, will tell them the truth ; and they are ready to believe the most foolish and monstrous things. Many a night have I laid trembling in my bed, fearing that an old beggar-man, who occasionally came to my father's house, would come down the chimney, and take me away to cut me up into matches ; indeed, I am not not quite sure that an indefinite fear of old John Sprags, does not creep over me now sometimes, when I am going about the house in the dark. Terrible fear endured in childhood, is often scarcely eradicated through life. But I am delaying you too long in the nursery, and will conclude the subject with some remarks on the importance of the early impressions of childhood. 80 THE NURSERY. " Observe, how very quick the child's eye is in the passive age of infancy, to catch impressions, and receive the meaning of looks, voices, and motions. It peruses all faces, colours, and sounds. Every sentiment that looks into its eyes, looks back out of its eyes, and plays in miniature on its countenance. The tear that steals down the cheek of a mother's suppressed grief, gathers the little infantile face into a responsive sob. With a kind of wondering silence, it studies the mother in her prayer, and looks up piously with her, in that exploring watch, that sig- nifies unspoken prayer. If the child is handled fretfully, scolded, jerked, or simply laid aside, not affectionately, in no warmth of motherly gentleness, it feels the sting of just that, which is felt towards it ; and so it is angered by anger, irritated by irri- tation, fretted by fretfulness ; having thus impressed upon it, just that kind of impatience or illnature which is felt towards it, and growing faithfully into the bad mould, as by a fixed law. There is great importance in manner, even in the handling of infancy. If it is unchristian, it will beget unchris- tian states or impressions. If it is gentle, even, patient, and loving, it prepares a mood and temper like its own.- There is scarcely room to doubt, that all most crabbed, hateful, resentful, passionate, ill- natured characters all, most even, lovely, firm, and true ones, are prepared, in a great degree, by the THE NURSERY. 8 1 handling of the nursery. To these, and all such modes of treatment and feeling, as make up the element of the infant's life, it is passive as wax to the seal. How important then, the first chapter in a child's life the age of impressions." We will now go to our District work, but instead of an imaginary case, I will relate to you a narrative, the facts of which, occurred, as I shall tell them. A lady found in one of the houses she was accustomed to visit, a highly nervous little woman, just recovering from her confinement. She had had a child nearly every year since she was married. Now, she had eight ; the baby was a month old. Four of the children were sitting on the hearth, close to the fire there was no fender. Their amuse- ment was poking the fire with sticks, then snatching them out of each other's hands, followed by slap- ping and crying. The mother sitting amongst them with her infant, scolded, remonstrated, threatened them in the usual way. " You naughty boy I'll tell your father he'll beat you, sir, he will ; here he comes. Now, Sarah, what do you tease Billy for? you are the worst girl that ever was ; I can't think what you'll come to. Lay that knife down, Ann, you'll cut your fingers off; put it on the table, I say don't you hear me, you little rebel ! John ! get up, your frock will be on fire. 82 THE NURSERY. I expect we shall all be burnt up some day, and you'll craze me, I know you will." Whilst she is thus ruling her children, the perspi- ration runs down her face, and her hands tremble so much, that she can scarcely hold the infant ; and truly, she looks as if her expectation of being crazy, was not distant from its fulfilment. The facts of her case were these. She had once been deranged, from distress of mind, occasioned by the seizure of her furniture for rent. The debt had been incurred during a long illness, which kept her husband from his work ; and the landlord, seeing little chance of being paid as the man in health, earned only ten shillings a week, in order to secure himself from loss, laid his hand upon the furniture, and with the sale of it, paid himself. This precious furniture had been purchased with twenty pounds, saved by the poor woman in long service before her marriage, and furnished and ornamented a very pretty cottage. When the cruel swoop came, that deprived her of all, and left her a naked dwelling, her reason refused to submit to it, and fled away. It was many months before she recovered sufficiently to take the charge of her family again, and she always remained highly nervous and excitable " flighty," as her neighbours called it. Her mind is again nearly off the balance ; the doctor has said, nothing can save her reason, but THE NURSERY. 83 a complete change, and removal from the fatigue and worry of her family. The lady enquires anxiously if she have any relation to whom she could go for change. She has not few poor people have ; their houses are generally full, and they cannot afford to increase their expenses. Has she any friends, who would take her if they were paid for it ? No, she has none no one would like to take her, for she is sure she is going out of her mind again she cannot bear the noise of the chil- dren she has such queer feelings in her head, and all her neighbours tell her she is just as she was, when she went out of her mind before. The lady endeavours to cheer her by hope, and kindness. She gives her a little money with which to buy some necessary articles, and promises to help her. The lady was right to give her the money to spend, instead of spending it for her. Poor women like to choose for themselves, and to pay money themselves ; they feel more independent and respectable. This woman needed now, every comfortable feeling to stay her mind. The lady walks away, pondering in what form the help she has promised can possibly come. She has no idea ; but the woman's reason must be saved at any sacrifice. With this idea of sacrifice, springs up a sudden thought what change could be more complete and more effectual, than to remove her 84 THE NURSERY. from the burden of her family, and her little cramped dwelling, into the repose and luxury of her own home ? At first, the idea seemed strange and startling, perhaps impracticable ; but as she dwelt upon it, it gradually appeared to be a most natural, rational, and practicable thing to do ; how could she in any other way so effectually help her poor neighbour ? And she determined, if she found the woman willing, to carry the idea into execution. On the following day, having arranged with a suitable person to take a temporary charge of the little family, she proposed her plan to the mother, and found it thankfully accepted. Later in the day, the lady sent her own little carriage for her, with a supply of suitable clothing to wear on her visit, that her external appearance might furnish no associa- tion with the days of her misery. When dressed for her short journey, the woman remarked, that she did not know herself. She brought her infant with her, and both were comfortably installed in the kitchen, under the special care of kind and considerate servants. She had every personal comfort, with plenty of rest and nourishment. Her child was laid in the family cradle, and was an object of general interest. She worked at her needle when she chose, read to herself, or was read to, was conversed with, and chatted with ; she understood the meaning of the word " leisure ; " THE NURSERY. 8$ she rode out, and enjoyed the country, and the air she walked in the garden, and gathered the flowers and as she expressed it herself felt as if she was in paradise. At the end of a few weeks, she returned home, her health restored, her nerves braced, her hope and self-esteem raised ; and sup- ported by the sustaining consciousness that she had a true and tried personal friend, deeply inter- ested in her welfare, she resumed her arduous duties, with a cheerful and competent courage ; and at the conclusion of her labour of love, the lady said, " Of a truth, it is more blessed to give than to receive;" and felt, that the good measure, pressed down, shaken together, and running over, had been given into her own bosom. This visit of the poor neighbour to the rich one, caused quite a sensation amongst the residents in the immediate vicinity, making it painfully evident, that it is a strange and unexpected thing, when those in the upper classes, go much out of the routine line of gift charity, to confer a benefit on poor neighhbours. You say, that I seem to forget, that few persons comparatively are able to give, and to act after the manner I have described. I believe the number is very large indeed, who could do it, if the thought, and the will for it, became possible to them ; it is much more frequently, the little annoyance and G 86 THE NURSERY. inconvenience, than the real expense, that stands in the way of this twice blessed charity. The dis- turbance of the regular domestic routine, putting things a little out of order, that is the trouble ; there is a heavenly order that might not be at all disarranged by these things. It is humiliating to think, how small an inconvenience will prevent our loving our neighbour as ourself. We are willing to take any amount of trouble, to incur considerable expense, to put up with great inconvenience, that we may entertain or assist our wealthy friends and neighbours, who might readily dispense with our hospitality or assistance ; but when we turn to our poor neighbours, who really do need it that is a different matter it cannot be expected we must see that we do not over-do ourselves. The Macedonian churches afford us the most beautiful example of benevolence and generosity. They abounded out of their deep poverty, and beyond their power in the riches of their liberality ; they spared out of their want, not out of their abundance. From my own small experience I would say, that charity supports itself; and that scriptural, self- sacrificing charity, never made any one really poor. The Lord has so many ways of fulfilling His promise of repayment ; and I believe that where one person becomes poor through giving away too THE NURSERY. 8/ much, a thousand remain so (or unblessed in what they possess), through withholding more than is meet. " There is that scattereth, and yet increaseth ; and there is that withholdeth more than is meet, but it tendeth to poverty." " He that watereth, shall be watered also himself." " He which soweth bountifully shall reap also bountifully." I believe there are no promises in the Scriptures more literally fulfilled than these, to those who have faith to act upon them. " For we must share, if we would keep, That good thing from above ; Ceasing to give, we cease to have Such is the law of love." I remember a little incident so much in point, that I must give it you. A little boy, a child of a gardener I knew, was standing by his father's gate, when a poor old beggar-man came by. The child was a tender- hearted little fellow, and in a tone of genuine compassion, he said, "Poor old man! poor old man!" He thus unconsciously touched the chord in the old beggar's heart, that vibrates love for love ; and with a fervent " God bless you, my little man," he put his trembling hand in his pocket and gave the child a halfpenny. I will conclude this long letter with an extract from a favourite little book of mine, by an old 8fc THE NURSERY. writer, entitled " Riches Increased by Giving." The author fully vindicates and establishes the truth of the title he choses for his book. " What better use can you make of your riches than by bestowing a part of them upon God and His cause ? It being the chief end of His giving more of this world's goods to some than to others, that they who have the greater store, should give of the same to them who are in want. This was typically signified by the Israelites gathering of manna ; for although it was rained down from heaven, yet the Lord would not allow, that they who had gathered more than was needful for themselves and their household, should hoard up their super- fluity, but enjoined upon them to communicate of their abundance to such as had need ; that so, he that had the most, should have nothing over, and he that had the least, should have no lack." Thomas Gouge. All that was laid by, we read, became putrid and useless like those hoarded bags of precious stores, that become rusty and motheaten. Heartily desiring for you and myself, a spirit ready to distribute, and willing to communicate, I am, sincerely, LETTER VIII. " All thy works shall praise thee, O Lord ; and thy saints shall bless thee." Psalm cxlv. 10. " There are many lives amongst the poor, that rise sadly, that go on without the sun, and are extinguished without a glow." Madame de Gasparin. MY DEAR FRIENL* When I awoke this morning from a refreshing night's rest, undisturbed by fear, pain, or anxiety, my first thought was How many of my fellow-creatures have passed this night, homeless and sleepless, or crowded together in holes like beasts, where night brings little comfort, and day little hope ! I looked from my chamber window the dew- drops were sparkling on the lawn ; a thrush that built in the garden, was seeking a breakfast for her young ones ; the voice of the cuckoo came from the larch copse, and the blackbird's from the acacia tree ; and far in the distant meadow, I heard the plaintive cry of the lapwing. The bees were humming round my window amongst the fairy blossoms of the Banksia rose ; and the breeze as it passed by, was sweet with the scent of wallflower and lilac. They all spoke of beauty and love. A forecast of prosperity radiated, as it were from everything, and fell with a glow of animation on the coming occupations of the day. Greeted by such happy surroundings, 92 NATURE'S TEACHINGS. how could one feel other than happy ? I caught the glad inspiration, and joined in the praise that rose up from the works of my Father in heaven. Again, my thoughts turned to the care-worn, and weary ; to whom joy like this, was nought but a fiction ; and memory caught me away to a dwelling I well remembered, in one of our populous cities. Rarely did the sun look in at its window ; the air was fetid around it, with the pestilential odour of slaughter houses ; its music was the song of the drunkard, and the bellowing of imprisoned cattle ; and there amongst beer-shops, and public-houses the traps of the weary, and unwary, the resorts of the vicious and profligate, stood the home of this human family. The husband was corrupted with the corruption no wonder and the natural conse- quences followed. My thoughts entered the one sleeping apartment night drives the household together ; seven people are there assembled the man, and the victim, called "a partner," a young girl disabled by sickness, a son, and three smaller children. Kind sleep comes to all weary creatures, and there they lie huddled together, with the clothes they have worn in the day-time, spread out for the night's bed-covering. Ah ! the scent of that dirty old clothing ! it poisons the air to suffocation ; but still they are sleeping the man, and his son, and the three little children ; it is sickness and NATURE'S TEACHINGS. 93 sorrow only, that keep on a weary vigil the girl in her restless tossing, the wife in her hopeless forecasting. Then comes the morning the putting on again of those ragged, offensive garments looking through that dull window, with that noxious air to breathe ; there is the man's coarse language the complaint of the weary daughter the quarrels of the pent-up children, and the joyless future before them. " Oh ! " I thought, "how should I bear it? How should I acquit myself under similar circumstances ? What would become of my complacent tranquillity, of my hopeful energy, my grateful praise ? How should I retain refinement, industry, faith, hope? How, even natural affection? And losing these how low should I sink ? " I trembled to think how low it might be. And still looking into my garden, basking in sunshine and beauty ; memory again flew off to another city dwelling to an apartment about ten feet square, that contained the all of a married couple ; all their worldly goods, all their joy and sorrow, but only the last was left there. In one corner was piled up a heap of something, which spread out at night on the floor, formed the bed for the wife and her husband, who boasted, that for three months together, he had not gone home to her sober ; and expected that she would main- 94 NATURE'S TEACHINGS. tain him. In the centre of the room stood a small round table ; and stretched from wall to wall, were cords for the drying of linen she took in washing ; and there, this wonderful woman worked perse- veringly desperately, to keep soul and body together. She was tidy in her person ; and the wall on one side of the room was almost covered with tiny pictures, the reminiscences of better days, when she had a better husband touching relics of woman's natural instinct for ornament. Her one child had died there was no time to attend to it, no air, no food ; and this uncomforted creature, without hope, and without affection, toiled on. Could I have done it ? My heart sickened at the thought, and said, Impossible ! The blackbird went on with his song, and the stock dove was cooing in the fir tree ; and again memory took me away to another poor man's dwelling, to a room a little bigger than the other the home of a reformed drunkard. The bed occu- pied the larger portion of the room, and served for the parents and three children there had once been twice that number ; but fever had come to the house, and of course, infection with it ; and three of the little ones were taken. In the first blank leaf of the Bible their names were fairly written. The woman was a hopeless invalid, but they had faith in God, and trusted that He would make a way for NATURE'S TEACHINGS. 95 them through all their difficulties, and receive them into rest for ever even into mansions of glory. And as I thought of those mansions, and the power of that all-sustaining faith, the glory faded from my garden, by reason of the glory that excelleth ; and a humble supplication arose in my heart, that I might learn the sympathy of Jesus, and practise the Christian's self-denial, and judge kindly, and work patiently, amongst my poor suffering brothers and sisters ; and thus, working humbly and lovingly, might become a co-worker with Him, who came from the glory of heaven, to redeem us from sin, and from sorrow. But again, to return to my garden, in which I spend so many pleasant, and refreshing hours, and say, I could not do without it. I often think, whilst enjoying its beauty, how many persons there are, who are deprived of the teaching to be derived from God's manifold and beautiful works, especially those poor persons, who are by necessity, confined to great cities, and perhaps never get beyond them I have no doubt there are thousands of persons in London, who never saw a flower grow out of the ground. Some minds are much more open, and susceptible to this kind of teaching than others. From my childhood, the birds of the air, and the beasts of the field, the dew and the sunshine, the bees and the flowers, have been my pleasant 96 NATURE'S TEACHINGS. teachers ; and many a time have my faith and hope been renewed by their attractive and per- suasive lessons, by their friendly reproofs and warnings. Many years ago, when we lived in B , it was my habit to take an early morning walk upon the end of the chain pier, and at that hour, I was commonly the only occupant, and had the lessons of the winds and the waves all to myself. One morning, I especially remember, I had risen earlier than usual, for I had many troubles on my mind, and I wanted to be alone. A thick gloom was spread over the whole face of nature ; the wind was wild and cold, the sky a leaden grey, and the sea rolled its heavy discoloured waves with an angry growl upon the shore ; the jarring creak of the chains beneath the pier, and the cold dash of waves round the buttresses, were all in harmony with each other, and in harmony with my oppressed spirit Nothing spoke of hope ; all spoke of dis- couragement, and my thoughts grew heavier, and my heart sunk lower ; but, whilst I turned, and returned upon my path, I observed a large flock of wild ducks leaving the land ; and regardless of frowning sky, stormy wind, and surging sea, without chart or compass to direct them on their untrodden way, with the wind directly ahead, they boldly steered off for the land, to which faith, or instinct, NATURE'S TEACHINGS. 97 drew them. I watched them with intense interest, as in a compact squadron, their wings cleft the air ; presently, I observed one of them lagging behind further and further behind it must have been a feeble one further and further and then I saw it suddenly fall to the surface of the waters. " Oh ! " I exclaimed, " it will be left behind, it will never overtake those strong flyers." Presently, however, I observed it, flying along just above the crest of the billows, and there, out of the force of the wind, it made rapid progress. Again I lost it. Had it given up the journey ? No ! I discerned it again far ahead, and soon, it rose into the air, and, as if invigorated by its lowly solitary travel, it darted forward with increased speed, and gained rapidly upon its disappearing companions ; and though I did not see it overtake them, I felt sure that it would do so. I turned my steps homeward, my faith confirmed, that He who guided these trustful voyagers across the billows to their haven of rest, would, assuredly guide His children also across the rough billows of their life's journey, and not suffer the feeblest amongst them to fail, or be over- whelmed. When I began my letter, I intended only to take a short turn with you, before paying our last visit in the district ; but I find I have been rambling so far, that I shall weary you if we proceed any 98 NATURE'S TEACHINGS. further at this time. If this little detour bring us into nearer sympathy with our poor brethren in their hindrances, and increase our thankfulness for our own greater privileges, it will not be altogether out of our way. Yours sincerely, LETTER IX.