LETTER VI.
“Let mine outcast dwell with thee, Moab, be thou a covert to him, from the face of the spoiler.”
TO THE SAME.
My dear Friend,—Having raised your curiosity, if no more than that, you no doubt feel anxious for the continuance of my tale; which, though not half so interesting as many, yet, the truth being known, will give you some satisfaction. After the affair of the trial I had, and gaining the day, it was not to be supposed my master was very kind, but took every opportunity of mortifying and grieving me. But I bore it with patience till God delivered me from him. In the year 1799 I was led to Tottenham-court Chapel, to hear the Rev. Mr. L. His preaching seemed to strike me so forcibly, that I thought I could have followed him until death—but, oh, I have since seen it is one thing to have the passions moved, and another to experience the power of the Holy Ghost. Having heard him a few times, as soon as he left London, I begged the Lord would grant me the pleasure to hear him often the year following, when he should return to London. God granted this, though by terrible things. At last the news was brought me, this gentleman would preach on such a Lord’s Day on his return to London. I could not keep secret what I had been praying for, and it being whispered in the family, the night previous to my hearing him, the master issued out a decree, that I was not to go out of the house all day on Sunday, except in the afternoon. Although I knew there was nothing to keep me at home, I fretted about this sadly; and when eleven o’clock came on Sunday morning, the house could no longer hold me; and, contrary to all orders, I fled like a lapwing to Tottenham-court Chapel, when with joy I beheld my favorite preacher, and with raptures heard him preach on his favorite theme, Phil. iii. 8. I returned to dinner. The old woman, of whom I have spoken before, observed, she had orders to go out that morning, and I was to stay at home—to which I replied, it was nothing but a plan to mortify me, as she made no preparation for going out, although it was past church-time. She gave me a hint I should be well horse-whipped for it; this made me desperate—and in the afternoon I went out again. In the evening I went to the Tabernacle, Moorfields, and heard a most glorious discourse on the first epistle of Jude, by my favorite preacher. My rapturous joys were so great, I did not care what I suffered. I thought it my duty to go where I did; although forbidden by man, it was better to obey God than man. These were my thoughts at that time; and, as to my joys, I believe they were scarcely any but the raptures of a way-side hearer. However, the Lord had a hand in this affair. Nothing was said to me that evening, and getting a little more native courage than I had before, the foreman of the shop, by my wish, let me practise a little in the business to which I was bound. This gave a fresh offence to my master, who, having got some drink, sought for a quarrel with me. From these two circumstances, I always made it a point to be civil to all, and especially to my superiors; but I had been too easy for many years; I was nearly 20 years of age, had served above nine years of my apprenticeship, and had never been permitted to learn the business to which I was bound, and by which alone I could get my bread. I was for the first time enabled to tell my master these things, in a very polite and becoming way, but he was so much exasperated at the moment, that he took up some heavy wood and beat me in the most cruel manner imaginable, and afterwards threw a large pan at my head, which hurt me, and of which I felt the effects for some time. I was now roused to open my mind freely, and I assured him, that as he had made me his slave for nine years, I should make my complaint to the Committee of the Foundling Hospital, and know why I was not allowed to learn the business to which I was bound. I accordingly left him, but could not have any immediate access to them for a fortnight; during which time the master made application to the sitting magistrate at Bow-street for a hearing; when the magistrate considered it was high time I was taken from such slavery: my indentures were of course given up, and my master and I parted for ever. I was now, once more, cast on the wide world, without a home, without a trade, without a relation, without a friend, and but three bad halfpence in the world. What to do I knew not. Where to go, or how to act, I could not tell—but that Almighty angel who directed Hagar in the wilderness to a well of water, when ready to expire with want, put me in mind of a young man who was in very comfortable circumstances: to him I went, and requested him to take care of my books; for, strange to tell, I really thought more of my books than of a living at that time. The above person not only promised to take care of them, but of me also, till I could get something to do. I gladly accepted this offer, and had an opportunity of hearing my favorite preacher the same evening, and continued hearing him till I was fully engaged in public work myself. But my continuance in this situation was very short, as the person who had been a flaming professor, and just going into the ministry, had taken a singular turn, and joined himself to the petty players at a little theatre. He was constantly rehearsing speeches in plays, nor could I persuade him to attend the gospel any more. He squandered away vast sums of money, and soon became bankrupt. His parents had been pious people, and had lived very near, to save a fortune for this son, who presently sent it to the four winds, which is frequently the case. How foolish and mad are parents to labour; toil, grudge, and half starve themselves, and all about them, to hoard up money for some extravagant son to squander. “He heapeth up riches, and cannot tell who shall gather them.” I wish some parents could read, under the influence of the Spirit of God, the book at Ecclesiastes. I was soon obliged to leave this place; but the hand of the Lord soon appeared again, and raised me up a most invaluable friend, who is now in glory; nor less friendly were her family, who are persons of good repute in the world, and above all, in the church, worthily so. One of them is pastor over a respectable congregation near London. This family, well knowing what usage I had experienced, and being lovers of those who were seeking the Lord, gave me great encouragement, kindly supplied many wants, and at last took me into their business, having had some acquaintance with it, during my apprenticeship. Here I continued, with low wages, a weak body, and hard work, but a contented mind, and an opportunity of hearing my favorite preacher, who was at this time in London, 1799. It was at this period I first had the pleasure of getting acquainted with the daughter of our good old friend, Mr. Elliott, who brought me to visit you; and how strange the dealings of God with you since; but hitherto hath the Lord helped you. My intimacy with this pious young woman was increased, and continued till she became my wife. Her father had been a most respectable opulent man, in Hampshire but, through family afflictions, became reduced; he was a most pious, God-fearing man, called to the knowledge of the truth under the ministry of that apostle of the British empire, George Whitfield, whose memory was so dear to the old gentleman, that nothing could please him better than relating how God had blest his preaching; and, as he lived an humble seeker, so he died in the triumph of precious faith, having been brought into the full liberty of the gospel only a little before his dissolution; and leaving behind him two affectionate daughters, who, with many tears, deposited his remains in the burial-ground of Bunhill Fields, in the full confidence of a joyful immortality and eternal life. You knew him well, and highly esteemed him. About a year after this, his dear daughter and myself were married—I am sure in much love, and in nothing but poverty in prospect; but we always found the Lord a God at hand when we most needed him. This you have been an eye and ear witness of many times; so that I can testify, that he is a prayer-hearing and prayer-answering God. To him he glory.
Yours, truly, J. C.