The Dairyman\'s Daughter
L >> Legh Richmond >> The Dairyman\'s DaughterTHE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER.
BY
LEGH RICHMOND.
AUTHOR OF "THE ANNALS OF THE POOR," ETC.
EDINBURGH:
ALEXANDER HISLOP & COMPANY.
EDINBURGH:
PRINTED BY SCHENCK AND M'FARLANE,
ST JAMES SQUARE.
CHAPTER I.
It is a delightful employment to discover and trace the operations of
Divine grace, as they are manifested in the dispositions and lives of
God's real children. It is peculiarly gratifying to observe how
frequently, among the poorer classes of mankind, the sunshine of mercy
beams upon the heart, and bears witness to the image of Christ which the
Spirit of God has impressed thereupon. Among such, the sincerity and
simplicity of the Christian character appear unencumbered by those
obstacles to spirituality of mind and conversation, which too often prove
a great hindrance to those who live in the higher ranks. Many are the
difficulties which riches, worldly consequence, high connexions, and the
luxuriant refinements of polished society, throw in the way of religious
profession. Happy indeed it is (and some such happy instances I know),
where grace has so strikingly supported its conflict with natural pride,
self-importance, the allurements of luxury, ease, and worldly opinion,
that the noble and mighty appear adorned with genuine poverty of spirit,
self-denial, humble-mindedness, and deep spirituality of heart.
But in general, if we want to see religion in its most simple and pure
character, we must look for it among the poor of this world, who are rich
in faith. How often is the poor man's cottage the palace of God! Many
can truly declare, that they have there learned the most valuable lessons
of faith and hope, and there witnessed the most striking demonstrations
of the wisdom, power, and goodness of God.
The character which the present narrative is designed to introduce to the
notice of my readers, is given _from real life and circumstance_. I
first became acquainted with her by receiving the following letter, which
I transcribe from the original now before me:--
"Rev. Sir,
"I take the liberty to write to you. Pray excuse me, for I have never
spoken to you. But I once heard you when you preached at --- Church.
I believe you are a faithful preacher, to warn sinners to flee from
the wrath that will be revealed against all those that live in sin,
and die impenitent. Pray go on in the strength of the Lord. And may
He bless you, and crown your labour of love with success, and give you
souls for your hire.
"The Lord has promised to be with those whom He calls and sends forth
to preach his Word to the end of time: for without Him we can do
nothing. I was much rejoiced to hear of those marks of love and
affection to that poor soldier of the S. D. Militia. Surely the love
of Christ sent you to that poor man! May that love ever dwell richly
in you by faith! May it constrain you to seek the wandering souls of
men with the fervent desire to spend and be spent for his glory! May
the unction of the Holy Spirit attend the word spoken by you with
power, and convey deep conviction to the hearts of your hearers! May
many of them experience the Divine change of being made new creatures
in Christ!
"Sir, be fervent in prayer with God for the conviction and conversion
of sinners. His power is great, and who can withstand it? He has
promised to answer the prayer of faith, that is put up in his Son's
name: 'Ask what ye will, it shall be granted you.' How this should
strengthen our faith, when we are taught by the Word and the Spirit
how to pray! O that sweet inspiring hope! how it lifts up the
fainting spirits, when we look over the precious promises of God! What
a mercy if we know Christ, and the power of his resurrection in our
own hearts! Through faith in Christ we rejoice in hope, and look in
expectation of that time drawing near, when all shall know and fear
the Lord, and when a nation shall be born in a day.
"What a happy time when Christ's kingdom shall come! then shall 'his
will be done in earth, as it is in heaven.' Men shall be daily fed
with the manna of his love, and delight themselves in the Lord all the
day long. Then, what a paradise below they will enjoy! How it
animates and enlivens my soul with vigour to pursue the ways of God,
that I may even now bear some humble part in giving glory to God and
the Lamb!
"Sir, I began to write this on Sunday, being detained from attending
on public worship. My dear and only sister, living as a servant with
Mrs ---, was so ill that I came here to attend in her place and on
her. But now she is no more.
"I was going to intreat you to write to her in answer to this, she
being convinced of the evil of her past life, and that she had not
walked in the ways of God, nor sought to please Him. But she
earnestly desired to do so. This makes me have a comfortable hope
that she is gone to glory, and that she is now joining in sweet
concert with the angelic host in heaven to sing the wonders of
redeeming love. I hope I may now write, 'Blessed are the dead which
die in the Lord.'
"She expressed a desire to receive the Lord's Supper, and commemorate
his precious death and sufferings. I told her, as well as I was able,
what it was to receive Christ into her heart; but as her weakness of
body increased, she did not mention it again. She seemed quite
resigned before she died. I do hope she is gone from a world of death
and sin, to be with God for ever.
"Sir, I hope you will not be offended with me, a poor ignorant person,
to take such a liberty as to write to you. But I trust, as you are
called to instruct sinners in the ways of God, you will bear with me,
and be so kind to answer this wrote letter, and give me some
instructions. It is my heart's desire to have the mind that was in
Christ, that when I awake up in his likeness, then I may be satisfied.
"My sister expressed a wish that you might bury her. The minister of
our parish, whither she will be carried, cannot come. She will lie at
---. She died on Tuesday morning, and will be buried on Friday, or
Saturday (whichever is most convenient to you), at three o'clock in
the afternoon. Please to send an answer by the bearer, to let me know
whether you can comply with this request,
"From your unworthy servant,
"ELIZABETH W---."
I was much struck with the simple and earnest strain of devotion which
this letter breathed. It was but indifferently written and spelt; but
this rather tended to endear the hitherto unknown writer, as it seemed
characteristic of the union of humbleness of station with eminence of
piety. I felt quite thankful that I was favoured with a correspondent of
this description; the more so, as such characters were at this time very
rare in the neighbourhood. I have often wished that epistolary
intercourse of this kind was more encouraged and practised among us. I
have the greatest reason to speak well of its effect, both on myself and
others. Communication by letter as well as by conversation with the
pious poor, has often been the instrument of animating and reviving my
own heart in the midst of duty, and of giving me the most profitable
information for the general conduct of the ministerial office.
As soon as the letter was read, I inquired who was the bearer of it.
"He is waiting at the outside of the gate, sir," was the reply.
I went out to speak to him, and saw a venerable old man, whose long hoary
hair and deeply-wrinkled countenance commanded more than common respect.
He was resting his arm upon the gate, and tears were streaming down his
cheeks. On my approach he made a low bow, and said:
"Sir, I have brought you a letter from my daughter; but I fear you will
think us very bold in asking you to take so much trouble."
"By no means," I replied; "I shall be truly glad to oblige you and any of
your family in this matter, provided it be quite agreeable to the
minister of your parish."
"Sir, he told me yesterday that he should be very glad if I could procure
some gentleman to come and bury my poor child for him, as he lives five
miles off, and has particular business on that day. So, when I told my
daughter, she asked me to come to you, sir, and bring that letter, which
would explain the matter."
I desired him to come into the house, and then said:
"What is your occupation?"
"Sir, I have lived most of my days in a little cottage at ---, six miles
from here. I have rented a few acres of ground, and kept some cows,
which, in addition to my day-labour, has been the means of supporting and
bringing up my family."
"What family have you?"
"A wife, now getting very aged and helpless, two sons and one daughter;
for my other poor dear child is just departed out of this wicked world."
"I hope for a better."
"I hope so, too, poor thing. She did not use to take to such good ways
as her sister; but I do believe that her sister's manner of talking with
her before she died, was the means of saving her soul. What a mercy it
is to have such a child as mine is! I never thought about my own soul
seriously till she, poor girl, begged and prayed me to flee from the
wrath to come."
"How old are you?"
"Near seventy, and my wife is older; we are getting old, and almost past
our labour, but our daughter has left a good place, where she lived in
service, on purpose to come home and take care of us and our little
dairy. And a dear, dutiful, affectionate girl she is."
"Was she always so?"
"No, sir: when she was very young, she was all for the world, and
pleasure, and dress, and company. Indeed, we were all very ignorant, and
thought if we took care for this life, and wronged nobody, we should be
sure to go to heaven at last. My daughters were both wilful, and, like
ourselves, strangers to the ways of God and the Word of his grace. But
the eldest of them went out to service, and some years ago she heard a
sermon at --- Church, by a gentleman that was going to ---, as chaplain
to the colony; and from that time she seemed quite another creature. She
began to read the Bible, and became sober and steady. The first time she
returned home afterwards to see us, she brought us a guinea which she had
saved from her wages, and said, as we were getting old, she was sure we
should want help; adding, that she did not wish to spend it in fine
clothes, as she used to do, only to feed pride and vanity. She said she
would rather show gratitude to her dear father and mother, because Christ
had shown such mercy to her.
"We wondered to hear her talk, and took great delight in her company; for
her temper and behaviour were so humble and kind, she seemed so desirous
to do us good both in soul and body, and was so different from what we
had ever seen before, that, careless and ignorant as we had been, we
began to think there must be something real in religion, or it never
could alter a person so much in a little time.
"Her youngest sister, poor soul! used to laugh and ridicule her at that
time, and said her head was turned with her new ways. 'No, sister,' she
would say; 'not my _head_, but I hope my _heart_ is turned from the love
of sin to the love of God. I wish you may one day see, as I do, the
danger and vanity of your present condition.'
"Her poor sister would reply, 'I do not want to hear any of your
preaching; I am no worse than other people, and that is enough for me.'
"'Well, sister,' Elizabeth would say, 'if you will not hear me, you
cannot hinder me from praying for you, which I do with all my heart.'
"And now, sir, I believe those prayers are answered. For when her sister
was taken ill, Elizabeth went to Mrs ---'s to wait in her place, and take
care of her. She said a great deal to her about her soul, and the poor
girl began to be so deeply affected, and sensible of her past sin, and so
thankful for her sister's kind behaviour, that it gave her great hopes
indeed for her sake. When my wife and I went to see her, as she lay
sick, she told us how grieved and ashamed she was of her past life, but
said she had a hope through grace that her sister's Saviour would be her
Saviour too; for she saw her own sinfulness, felt her own helplessness,
and only wished to cast herself upon Christ as her hope and salvation.
"And now, sir, she is gone; and I hope and think her sister's prayers for
her conversion to God have been answered. The Lord grant the same for
her poor father and mother's sake likewise!"
This conversation was a very pleasing commentary upon the letter which I
had received, and made me anxious both to comply with the request, and to
become acquainted with the writer. I promised the good Dairyman to
attend on the Friday at the appointed hour; and after some more
conversation respecting his own state of mind under the present trial, he
went away.
He was a reverend old man; his furrowed cheeks, white locks, weeping
eyes, bent shoulders, and feeble gait, were characteristic of the aged
pilgrim. As he slowly walked onwards, supported by a stick which seemed
to have been the companion of many a long year, a train of reflections
occurred, which I retrace with pleasure and emotion.
At the appointed hour I arrived at the church, and after a little while
was summoned to the churchyard gate to meet the funeral procession. The
aged parents, the elder brother, and the sister, with other relatives,
formed an affecting group. I was struck with the humble, pious, and
pleasing countenance of the young woman from whom I had received the
letter. It bore the marks of great seriousness without affectation, and
of much serenity mingled with a glow of devotion.
A circumstance occurred during the reading of the burial service, which I
think it right to mention, as one among many testimonies of the solemn
and impressive tendency of our truly evangelical Liturgy.
A man of the village, who had hitherto been of a very careless and even
profligate character, went into the church through mere curiosity, and
with no better purpose than that of vacantly gazing at the ceremony. He
came likewise to the grave, and, during the reading of those prayers
which are appointed for that part of the service, his mind received a
deep, serious conviction of his sin and spiritual danger. It was an
impression that never wore off, but gradually ripened into the most
satisfactory evidence of an entire change, of which I had many and long-
continued proofs. He always referred to the burial service, and to some
particular sentences of it, as the clearly ascertained instrument of
bringing him, through grace, to the knowledge of the truth.
The day was therefore one to be remembered. Remembered let it be by
those who love to hear
"The short and simple annals of the poor."
Was there not a manifest and happy connection between the circumstances
that providentially brought the serious and the careless to the same
grave on that day together? How much do they lose who neglect to trace
the leadings of God in providence, as links in the chain of his eternal
purpose of redemption and grace!
"While infidels may scoff, let us adore."
After the service was concluded, I had a short conversation with the good
old couple and their daughter. She had told me that she intended to
remain a week or two at the gentleman's house where her sister died, till
another servant should arrive and take her sister's place.
"I shall be truly obliged," said she, "by an opportunity of conversing
with you, either there or at my father's, when I return home, which will
be in the course of a fortnight at the farthest. I shall be glad to talk
to you about my sister, whom you have just buried."
Her aspect and address were highly interesting. I promised to see her
very soon; and then returned home, quietly reflecting on the
circumstances of the funeral at which I had been engaged. I blessed the
God of the poor; and prayed that the poor might become rich in faith, and
the rich be made poor in spirit.
CHAPTER II.
A sweet solemnity often possesses the mind, whilst retracing past
intercourse with departed friends. How much is this increased, when they
were such as lived and died in the Lord! The remembrance of former
scenes and conversations with those who, we believe, are now enjoying the
uninterrupted happiness of a better world, fills the heart with pleasing
sadness, and animates the soul with the hopeful anticipation of a day
when the glory of the Lord shall be revealed in the assembling of all his
children together, never more to be separated. Whether they were rich or
poor while on earth, is a matter of trifling consequence; the valuable
part of their character is, that they are kings and priests unto God, and
this is their true nobility. In the number of now departed believers,
with whom I once loved to converse on the grace and glory of the kingdom
of God, was the Dairyman's daughter.
About a week after the funeral I went to visit the family at ---, in
whose service the youngest sister had lived and died, and where Elizabeth
was requested to remain for a short time in her stead.
The house was a large and venerable mansion. It stood in a beautiful
valley at the foot of a high hill. It was embowered in fine woods, which
were interspersed in every direction with rising, falling, and swelling
grounds. The manor-house had evidently descended through a long line of
ancestry, from a distant period of time. The Gothic character of its
original architecture was still preserved in the latticed windows,
adorned with carved divisions and pillars of stone-work. Several pointed
terminations also, in the construction of the roof, according to the
custom of our forefathers, fully corresponded with the general features
of the building.
One end of the house was entirely clothed with the thick foliage of an
immense ivy, which climbed beyond customary limits, and embraced a lofty
chimney up to its very summit. Such a tree seemed congenial to the walls
that supported it, and conspired with the antique fashion of the place to
carry imagination back to the days of our ancestors.
As I approached, I was led to reflect on the lapse of ages, and the
successive generations of men, each in their turn occupying lands,
houses, and domains; each in their turn also disappearing, and leaving
their inheritance to be enjoyed by others. David once observed the same,
and cried out, "Behold, thou hast made my days as an hand-breadth, and
mine age is as nothing before thee: verily every man at his best state is
altogether vanity. Surely every man walketh in a vain show; surely they
are disquieted in vain: he heapeth up riches, and knoweth not who shall
gather them" (Psal. xxxix. 5, 6).
Happy would it be for the rich, if they more frequently meditated on the
uncertainty of all their possessions, and the frail nature of every
earthly tenure. "Their inward thought is, that their houses shall
continue for ever, and their dwelling-places to all generations: they
call their lands after their own names. Nevertheless, man being in
honour abideth not: he is like the beasts that perish. This their way is
their folly; yet their posterity approve their sayings. Like sheep they
are laid in the grave; death shall feed on them; and their beauty shall
consume in the grave from their dwelling" (Psal. xlix. 11-14).
As I advanced to the mansion, a pleasing kind of gloom overspread the
front: it was occasioned by the shade of trees, and gave a characteristic
effect to the ancient fabric. I instantly recollected that death had
very recently visited the house, and that one of its present inhabitants
was an affectionate mourner for a departed sister.
There is a solemnity in the thought of a recent death which will
associate itself with the very walls, from whence we are conscious that a
soul has just taken its flight to eternity.
After passing some time in conversation with the superiors of the family,
in the course of which I was much gratified by hearing of the unremitted
attention which the elder sister had paid to the younger during the
illness of the latter. I received likewise other testimonies of the
excellency of her general character and conduct in the house. I then
took leave, requesting permission to see her, agreeably to the promise I
had made at the funeral, not many days before.
I was shown into a parlour, where I found her alone. She was in deep
mourning. She had a calmness and serenity in her countenance, which
exceedingly struck me, and impressed some idea of those attainments which
a further acquaintance with her afterwards so much increased.
She spoke of her sister. I had the satisfaction of finding that she had
given very hopeful proofs of a change of heart before she died. The
prayers and earnest exhortations of Elizabeth had been blessed to a happy
effect. She described what had passed with such a mixture of sisterly
affection and pious dependence on the mercy of God to sinners, as
convinced me that her own heart was under the influence of "pure and
undefiled religion."
She requested leave occasionally to correspond with me on serious
subjects, stating that she needed much instruction. She hoped I would
pardon the liberty which she had taken by introducing herself to my
notice. She expressed a trust that the Lord would overrule both the
death of her sister and the personal acquaintance with me that resulted
from it, to a present and future good, as it respected herself and also
her parents, with whom she statedly lived, and to whom she expected to
return in a few days.
Finding that she was wanted in some household duty, I did not remain long
with her, but left her with an assurance that I proposed to visit her
parents very shortly.
"Sir," said she, "I take it very kind that you have condescended to leave
the company of the rich and converse with the poor. I wish I could have
said more to you respecting my own state of mind. Perhaps I shall be
better able another time. When you next visit me, instead of finding me
in these noble walls, you will see me in a poor cottage. But I am
happiest when there. Once more, sir, I thank you for your past kindness
to me and mine, and may God in many ways bless you for it."
I quitted the house with no small degree of satisfaction, in consequence
of the new acquaintance which I had formed. I discovered traces of a
cultivated as well as a spiritual mind. I felt that religious
intercourse with those of low estate may be rendered eminently useful to
others, whose outward station and advantages are far above their own.
How often does it appear that "God hath chosen the weak things of the
world to confound the things which are mighty; and base things of the
world, and things which are despised, hath God chosen, yea, and things
which are not, to bring to nought things that are: that no flesh should
glory in his presence" (1 Cor. i. 27-29).
It was not unfrequently my custom, when my mind was filled with any
interesting subject for meditation, to seek some spot where the beauties
of natural prospect might help to form pleasing and useful associations.
I therefore ascended gradually to the very summit of the hill adjoining
the mansion where my visit had just been made. Here was placed an
elevated sea mark: it was in the form of a triangular pyramid, and built
of stone. I sat down on the ground near it, and looked at the
surrounding prospect, which was distinguished for beauty and
magnificence. It was a lofty station, which commanded a complete circle
of interesting objects to engage the spectator's attention.
Southward the view was terminated by a long range of hills, at about six
miles distance. They met, to the westward, another chain of hills, of
which the one whereon I sat formed a link; and the whole together nearly
encompassed a rich and fruitful valley, filled with cornfields and
pastures. Through this vale winded a small river for many miles: much
cattle were feeding on its banks. Here and there lesser eminences arose
in the valley, some covered with wood, others with corn or grass, and a
few with heath or fern. One of these little hills was distinguished by a
parish church at the top, presenting a striking feature in the landscape.
Another of these elevations, situated in the centre of the valley, was
adorned with a venerable holly tree, which had grown there for ages. Its
singular height and wide-spreading dimensions not only render it an
object of curiosity to the traveller, but of daily usefulness to the
pilot, as a mark visible from the sea, whereby to direct his vessel safe
into harbour. Villages, churches, country-seats, farm-houses, and
cottages were scattered over every part of the southern valley. In this
direction, also, at the foot of the hill where I was stationed, appeared
the ancient mansion, which I had just quitted, embellished with its
woods, groves, and gardens.