At the mention of that n.o.bleman"s name, the young gentleman coloured a little, but it was evident that his emotion was not of an unpleasant nature. "What is your father"s name?" said he.
"James Anderson, sir."
"And his residence?"
"Blinkbonny."
"Well, I trust that, though desolate as far as this world is concerned, you know something of Him who is the Father of the fatherless and the Judge of the widow. If so, your Maker is your husband, and the Lord of Hosts is His name."
"Oh, yes, sir; I bless G.o.d that, through a pious parent"s care, I know something of the power of divine grace and the consolations of the gospel. My husband, too, though but a tradesman, was a man who feared G.o.d above many."
"The remembrance of that must tend much to alleviate your sorrow."
"It does indeed, sir, at times; but at other times I am ready to sink.
My father"s poverty and advancing age, my baby"s helplessness, and my own delicate health, are frequently too much for my feeble faith."
"Trust in G.o.d, and He will provide for you; be a.s.sured He will."
By this time the coach was again in motion, and though the conversation continued for some time, the noise of the wheels prevented me from hearing it distinctly. I could see the dandies, however, exchange expressive looks with one another; and at one time the more forward of the two whispered something to his companion, in which the words "Methodist parson" alone were audible.
At Airdrie nothing particular occurred; but when we had got about half-way between that town and Glasgow, we arrived at a cross-road, where the widow expressed a wish to be set down. The young gentleman therefore desired the driver to stop, and, springing himself from the coach, took the infant from her arms, and then, along with the guard, a.s.sisted her to descend. "May G.o.d reward you," said she, as he returned the baby to her, "for your kindness to the widow and the fatherless this day!"
"And may He bless you," replied he, "with all spiritual consolation in Christ Jesus!"
So saying, he slipped something into her hand. The widow opened it instinctively; I saw two sovereigns glitter on her palm. She dropped a tear upon the money, and turned round to thank her benefactor, but he had already resumed his seat upon the coach. She cast towards him an eloquent and grateful look, pressed her infant convulsively to her bosom, and walked hurriedly away.
No other pa.s.senger wishing to alight at the same place, we were soon again in rapid motion towards the great emporium of the West of Scotland. Not a word was spoken. The young gentleman sat with his arms crossed upon his breast, and, if I might judge by the expression of his fine countenance, was evidently revolving some scheme of benevolence in his mind. The dandies regarded him with blank amazement. They also had seen the gold in the poor widow"s hand, and seemed to think that there was more under that shabby surtout than their "puppy brains" were able to conjecture. That in this they were right was speedily made manifest.
When we had entered Glasgow, and were approaching the Buck"s Head--the inn at which our conveyance was to stop--an open travelling-carriage, drawn by four beautiful grey horses, drove up in an opposite direction.
The elegance of this equipage made the dandies spring to their feet.
"What beautiful greys!" cried the one; "I wonder who they can belong to?"
"He is a happy fellow, anyhow," replied the other; "I would give half Yorkshire to call them mine." The stage-coach and travelling-carriage stopped at the Buck"s Head at the same moment; and a footman in laced livery, springing down from behind the latter, looked first inside and then at the top of the former, when he lifted his hat with a smile of respectful recognition.
"Are all well at the castle, Robert?" inquired the young gentleman in the surtout.
"All well, my lord," replied the footman.
At the sound of that monosyllable the faces of the exquisites became visibly elongated; but without taking the smallest notice of them or their confusion, the n.o.bleman politely wished me good morning, and, descending from the coach, caused the footman to place his cloak and despised portmanteau in the carriage. He then stepped into it himself, and the footman getting up behind, the coachman touched the leaders very slightly with his whip, and the equipage and its n.o.ble owner were soon out of sight.
"Pray, what n.o.bleman is that?" said one of the dandies to the landlord, as we entered the inn.
"The Earl of Hyndford, sir," replied the landlord; "one of the best men, as well as one of the richest, in Scotland."
"The Earl of Hyndford!" repeated the dandy, turning to his companion.
"What a.s.ses we have been! There"s an end to all chance of being allowed to shoot on _his_ estate."
"Oh, yes, we may burn our letters of introduction when we please!"
rejoined his companion; and, silent and crestfallen, both walked upstairs to their apartments.
"The Earl of Hyndford!" repeated I, with somewhat less painful feelings. "Does he often travel unattended?"
"Very often, sir," replied the landlord, "especially when he has any public or charitable object in view; he thinks he gets at the truth more easily as a private gentleman than as a wealthy n.o.bleman."
"I have no doubt of it," said I; and having given orders for dinner, I sat down to muse on the occurrences of the day.
This, however, was not the last time that I was destined to hear of that amiable young n.o.bleman, too early lost to his country and mankind. I had scarcely returned home from my tour in the Highlands, when I was waited upon by a friend, a teacher of languages in Edinburgh, who told me that he had been appointed Rector of the Academy at Bothwell.
"Indeed!" said I; "how have you been so fortunate?"
"I cannot tell," replied he, "unless it be connected with the circ.u.mstance which I am going to relate."
He then stated that, about a month before, he was teaching his cla.s.ses as usual, when a young gentleman, dressed in a surtout that was not over new, came into his school, and politely asked leave to see his method of instruction. Imagining his visitor to be a schoolmaster from the country, who wished to learn something of the Edinburgh modes of tuition, my friend acceded to his request. The stranger remained two hours, and paid particular attention to every department. When my friend was about to dismiss the school, the stranger inquired whether he was not in the habit of commending his pupils to G.o.d in prayer before they parted for the day. My friend replied that he was; upon which the stranger begged that he would not depart from his usual practice on his account. My friend accordingly prayed with the boys, and dismissed them; after which the stranger thanked him for his politeness, and also withdrew. Nothing more occurred; but, four or five days afterwards, my friend received a letter from the Earl of Hyndford, in which that n.o.bleman, after stating that he had satisfied himself as to his piety and ability as a teacher, made him an offer of the Rectorship of the Academy at Bothwell.
"Was your visitor fair-haired," said I, "and his surtout of a claret colour?"
"They were," replied my friend; "but what of that?"
"It was the Earl of Hyndford himself," said I; "there can be no doubt of it." And I gave him the history of my journey to Glasgow.
"Well, he took the best method, certainly, to test my qualifications,"
rejoined my friend. "I wish all patrons would do the same; we should have better teachers in our schools, and better ministers in our churches."
"All patrons, perhaps, are not equally qualified to judge," said I; "at all events, let us rejoice that, though "not many wise men after the flesh, not many mighty, not many n.o.ble, are called," still we see one here and one there distinguished by divine grace, to the praise and the glory of G.o.d the Saviour."
JANE HILL.
[ILl.u.s.tRATION]
JANE HILL.
"It is more blessed to give than to receive."
Some years since a fire broke out in one of the narrow alleys which abound in the poorer parts of the town in which I live. It originated, as fires so often do, in the carelessness, or rather helplessness, of a tipsy woman, who had thrown herself across her bed, and lain there in a drunken stupor, while a candle, which she had left burning on a table in the room, had fallen over and set fire to some shavings, by which the flame had gradually been communicated to the furniture and to the house.
The author of the mischief was rescued; she lived on the ground floor, and the firemen had gained access to her room through the window from which the smoke was first seen bursting, thus giving the alarm of fire to the neighbourhood. She was quite insensible, partly from the effects of drink, and partly from being half-suffocated with smoke; but she soon recovered, while the effects of the mischief she had wrought lighted upon other and more innocent heads. It was an old rickety house, and the landlord had determined on putting it into thorough order, as otherwise it ran the risk of tumbling to pieces altogether. He had therefore given notice to all his tenants to quit; and they had done so, with the exception of the woman I have mentioned, who caused the fire, and a very respectable widow, who, with five children, occupied the attics. These women had been allowed to stay two or three weeks after the tenants of the first floor had left, because they had not succeeded in getting houses to suit them; and the work of patching up the old house not having yet been begun, they had remained in it on sufferance. The opening of the window gave the fire the draught which was all it wanted to gain fresh strength for its fatal work; and in two or three minutes after the unfortunate woman who had caused it had been carried out, the flame might be seen leaping upwards with fearful force and rapidity, as if furious at having been disappointed of its prey. I had been spending the evening with a friend, and had to pa.s.s the alley where the fire was; and as the house was very near the end of it, I could see and hear what was going on without being in the very thick of the crowd.
It was a fearful but a glorious sight. The night was frosty and clear; and as the flames darted out of the windows, and threw out showers of sparks, the bright red glare of the fire made the sky in relief seem of the most intense dark blue. Some one told me that the house was empty, so I was rather enjoying the grand beauty of the scene, when, hearing a fearful shriek, my eye was attracted to the attic windows of the house, and I perceived, to my horror, a woman and several children standing at it. Clear and distinct they stood against a black background, with the ruddy glow of the flames robing them in a crimson light, and at the same time revealing the agony of terror which was expressed in their countenances. "Go to the back of the house," shouted the firemen, "we can do nothing for you there." But the little group stood paralyzed with fear, unable to attend to the directions which were given them, or perhaps unable to hear them, for the fire was roaring and crackling enough to deafen any one. Three brave men of the fire-brigade went with a ladder round to the back of the house, while the engines kept the fire somewhat down by constantly playing on the front, as far as the confined s.p.a.ce would allow of their doing so. In reality, I suppose, not many minutes elapsed from the time that the firemen had carried round the ladder till one of them appeared at the window where the women and children stood: to me it seemed an age; and what must it not have appeared to the poor sufferers themselves? As the man came forward and joined the group, and the flame lighted up his tall, strong figure, a deafening shout from the crowd hailed his appearance, and encouraged him to his perilous task. It seemed at first as if the woman were too stupified to understand what he said to her, for we saw him put a child into her arms, and then push her from the window. He himself managed to carry two little ones, and to send a boy and girl of some ten and twelve years of age after their mother. Then we lost sight of them all, and there was another interval of terrible suspense, when a shout from the crowd which had collected at the back of the house announced that something important had taken place there. In a few minutes we learned that, by the help of the other two firemen, who had also mounted the ladder and made their way into the house, the poor woman and all her children had been saved.
With a thankful and relieved heart I made my way home, determined on the morrow to seek out these poor sufferers for another"s sin, and to see what a.s.sistance could be afforded them; I felt sure they would stand in no need of further help that night. There is often a princely generosity among the poor towards their still poorer brethren; and I was confident that many a kind-hearted man and motherly woman would willingly forego a night"s rest and comfort, if, by so doing, they could afford a shelter to these poor houseless ones. Nor was my confidence misplaced, for, on going to inquire after the family on the following day, I found that they had been well looked after and taken care of. It was now, however, that their real difficulties were to begin. The poor widow, whose name was Martin, had lost her little all--her scanty furniture, the decent clothing which it had cost her many a hard day"s work to earn money enough to buy, and many a wakeful hour at night to keep in order and to mend, all were gone. They had been in bed when the alarm of fire had awoke them, and had nothing on but their night-dresses when they were saved. She had been an industrious, hard-working woman, had long struggled bravely and womanfully against poverty and difficulties, but this last blow seemed fairly to have broken her spirit; and when I went to see her, I found her sitting at the fireside of the kindly neighbour who had given her a night"s shelter, looking the very image of blank and helpless despair. She was a proud woman in her way, possessed of that pride which one likes to see and so heartily respects, and which, alas! is so fast dying out among us,--the pride of honourable independence, which would willingly work day and night rather than receive charity from strangers. The bugbear of her life, since ever she had been left a widow with five helpless little ones to support, had been the Union Poor"s-house; and now want, starvation, and the Union seemed staring her in the face. It was pitiful to see the spasm of positive pain which crossed her face as I put a trifle into her hand on leaving. She murmured a few words of thanks; but I heard her say with a deep sigh, as I left the room, "I"m nothing better than a beggar now, living upon other folk"s charity."
The following day was a Sunday, the fire having taken place on a Friday night. The lessons in my Bible-cla.s.s were sooner over than usual that day, and I took advantage of the short interval of time before the concluding prayer was offered, to tell my cla.s.s about the fire, and of the utter dest.i.tution in which the poor widow and her children had been left. All the girls seemed very sorry, and I heard them discussing the subject as we were coming out, after the cla.s.s had been dismissed. The next morning I was told that a girl wanted to speak to me; and on going down-stairs I found it was one of my scholars, Jane Hill. She had a sweet, gentle countenance, and her modest manners, and the attention she always gave to her lessons, had made her a great favourite with me. I saw that she felt some timidity in telling me what she had come about, so I spoke to her encouragingly, and, after a little hesitation, she said: