—As in those days
    When this low pile a Gospel Teacher knew,
    Whose good works form’d an endless retinue:
    Such priest as Chaucer sang in fervent lays;
    Such as the heaven-taught skill of Herbert drew;
    And tender Goldsmith crown’d with deathless praise!

    Wordsworth.

“I AM now,” the old man continued, “approaching the most important period of my life.  My school-days glided away peaceably, and in some measure, profitably.  I was quite able and willing to learn every thing required of me by my masters, and had plenty of time to spare to follow all those various sports and amusements which occupy the time and thoughts of rustic lads in mountain regions.  Bird-nesting, fishing, wrestling, hunting, came each in their turn with the change of the seasons; and I was growing up a hale, strong youth, happy in my home, and in good humour with myself and all the world: and, sir, I cannot help remarking, by the way, that good humour, like charity, ‘begins at home;’ for I never knew any one yet who was dissatisfied and out of sorts with persons or things around him, who had not first quarrelled with himself.”

“I really think there is much truth in that remark of yours,” said I.

“Depend upon it there is,” he continued.  “Well, my happiness at that period of my life might be said, as far as human happiness could be,—to be perfect.  But yet the religious state of my mind was not quite satisfactory.  I had learned, and not only well remembered, but understood, every thing with regard to religion which p. 30was taught us at school; and that, believe me, was not little.  We were taught to repeat our Catechism, with Archbishop Wake’s explanation of it, every week.  We read the Bible as a school-book, till we could almost repeat it from beginning to end; and every story in it was as familiar to my mind as the Lord’s Prayer.  I know many have a strong objection to the use of the Bible as a school-book, but I confess I am not among the number.  On the contrary, I hold that familiarity with the Scriptures in childhood is the only way in which a knowledge of them can be so deeply impressed upon the memory, as that the passages which we want shall always be at hand to serve us at every turn.  As we get older we may understand what we read better, but we do not remember it so clearly or so long.  What I read now, slips away almost as soon as the book is laid down; but what I learned then, is as fresh in my memory as my school-day sports, or my first companions in life.  I know it is objected, that an early familiarity with the Scriptures is apt to bring them into contempt, and that we are liable to attach false meanings to passages, which sometimes cling to us through the rest of our lives.  But surely, if this be the effect, the fault is rather in those who put the Scriptures into our hands, than in our early youth, in which we first begin to read them.  I only know that I learned to reverence even the outside of the book of God’s Word from my poor mother’s reverent manner of using it.  She never opened the volume without an expression of countenance which showed that she felt herself at that moment to be in the more immediate presence of her Maker; and I still look upon the corner in which it was always put aside, and call to mind its black cover, with her horn spectacles resting upon it, with as much respect as the Roman Catholic is said to regard the image of his saint.  Mine, however, is no superstitious reverence, but a pious regard for the Word of God, and her from whose lips I was first taught it; and, sir, when I read my Bible now, which I hope I do not much neglect, I combine pleasure as well as well as profit,—it p. 31brings back to me the happy recollections of my youth, as well as affords the consolations of old age.”

“I quite agree with you,” said I, “as to the advantages of an early acquaintance with the Bible.  Whether it should be made a school-book or not, depends entirely upon the capabilities and sound principles of the teacher.”

“There you are right,” said he; “but mine were like the ‘words of king Lemuel, which his mother taught him:’ and old Bowman, to do him justice, drilled the somewhat dry catechism of the good Archbishop pretty soundly into my memory.  Yet, as far as I can recollect, I had not at that time any very distinct notions of the value of the Gospel, as distinct from natural religion, and the obvious duty of doing as I was taught.  I knew all the facts of Christianity perfectly.  I could tell all the events of our Saviour’s life, and enumerate accurately every doctrine taught by Himself and His apostles.  I knew the necessity of unity in the Catholic Church, and understood the Creeds by which that unity was intended to be secured.  But I did not see how these things applied to myself, as guides for my own thoughts and actions.  My real religion, I believe, as far as I can call back my thoughts at this distance of time, consisted a good deal in fear, both of God and man.  My father, as I have said, was a strict disciplinarian; his word was law: and my fear of God, I cannot help thinking, arose almost naturally out of the situation in which nature had placed me.  In very early life,—as far back as I can recollect anything,—I underwent great alarm from what is a common occurrence in that mountain range—a terrific thunder storm.  The effect of the lightning in that land of hill and valley, is very striking; and was never more so than on that well-remembered day!  Sometimes it seemed to dance in wanton playfulness on the side of the mountain, and sometimes to split it from the top to the bottom.  Then the echoing thunder ran up one valley and down another in that land of seams and ridges, coming back again to the place which it had left, with a voice hardly weakened by its circuit; and there, joining p. 32a new and equally loud report, the bellowing became as confused and endless as it was startling.  Then came the thunder-shower, not in drops of rain, but solid sheets of water.  The white cataracts began foaming and rushing down the side of every hill, and gushing out of every opening in the valleys, till they swelled our little stream that winds beneath the house into a mighty and irresistible torrent, sweeping every thing before it towards the lake with rapid and resistless fury.  But what most impressed my mind at the moment, was to see a poor innocent sheep, as well known to me by face as Dash himself, hurled down by the current, and bleating piteously, but in vain, for help!  This scene, and scenes like these, made a deep impression on my mind; and I began to entertain a constant and solemn feeling of the continual presence and irresistible power of God.  This thought was uppermost in my mind from morning till night; in the fields and on my bed.  It was doubtless valuable to me as a guide to duty, but it gave a gloomy turn to my thoughts which was inconsistent with the buoyant feelings of youth, and, as I have since discovered, not in harmony with the true spirit of the Gospel.”

But I must now introduce to you another member of our family, to whom I have as yet hardly alluded, for many painful reasons, but whose history now begins to be blended with mine in a manner which renders all farther avoidance of her tale impossible.  I refer to my poor sister Martha!  She was several years older than myself; and at the time I am now speaking of, had arrived at woman’s estate.  She was a splendid specimen of a fine well-grown mountain girl, except that she was rather paler than exactly suits the taste of the hardy mountaineer; her paleness, however, arose, I believe, not from any delicacy of frame, but from habitual thoughtfulness.  How she was admired and sought after by the shy rustics of the neig............