I was now becoming more and more acquainted with the trade of country boot-making, and was considered, as an apprentice, a very decent hand, considering I was learning in a village. I liked my trade tolerably well, and was, perhaps, on the whole, fairly obliging, amongst the wax, the thread, the leather, and the nails, and all other concomitants incident to a boot-making establishment, to which I had, by this time, become almost naturalised, and felt quite at home as a few extra pence came into my pocket, for although I had permission to go to Beccles to fairs and races, and such like amusements, yet I did not often prefer to accept those seeming favours—those gilded baubles, which perish with the using. My friend would say, “Let us go for our cows an hour sooner, then we can kneel down and pray for the giddy, noisy multitude,” many of whom were slaves to sin and Satan, fast bound in the snare, from which nothing short of a divine power can extricate—
So sad our state by nature is,
Our sin how deep its stains,
And Satan binds our willing souls
Fast in his slavish chains.
One very warm summer day, we (that is, myself, master, and his father) were after the hay, on the bank of the Waveney, and I told them I should like to have a bathe. They cautioned me to be careful I was not drowned. I repeated that I should make the attempt, but they tried to dissuade me. I told them to “Look out!” and I went over and back easily and safety—preserved and supported by an Omnipotent Almighty hand, when many have been permitted to sink in the stream, and are lost! lost! lost! for ever. This is the manner in which my giddy steps were preserved, and my youthful career safely and lovingly onward led, and I was permitted to see the “bright light in the cloud.”
I will now state that my apprenticeship closed on the 31st of December, in the year above-mentioned. It began on the 24th of May, 1825. Having agreed with my master to work for him for a time, I commenced to work as journeyman. After having visited a few of my old friends, I took lodgings near with a couple of aged people named Whyatt, where I was very comfortable. Their youngest son had been apprenticed to Mr. Pidgeon, my friend John having left, or was about leaving his master, and very soon after was summoned to bid adieu to all earthly things, and to enter into his everlasting rest, into which the writer desires to be found, waiting and watching, even unto the end of his course.
I started in housekeeping—bought good bread at Jones’s, of Beccles, and good meat at Crickmoy’s, near the “Red Lion Inn,” and other necessaries were easily obtainable, so that I got on during the first winter fairly well, but had not much money to spare, for perhaps I could have done more work if I had had more alloted to me, but was thankful that the prospect was encouraging. I worked and sung, walked to my lodgings and enjoyed my coffee and my rest. I did not book myself at this station only for a short time; the other apprentice, James Smith, was becoming useful, and as the winter passed away, the work in summer did not come in so briskly.
During the summer of this year, 1830, the reign of George IV. came to an end, a short reign, but many troubles, and the national mind manifested no expression of regret on the demise of this self-indulgent and passion-gratifying monarch, while that of his predecessor was said to be just, pious, temperate, and beneficent; every domestic and social grace adorned his character—the ruler and the ornament of a powerful and wealthy empire.
William Henry succeeded to the throne under the title of William IV.
As it happened, the people at Worlingham, with whom I lodged had a son, who had just taken a business in the parish of St. Lawrence, near Bungay, an agricultural district. This man, wanting another hand, I was engaged to go there to work for him, for a time: but the poor master was not very successful. His wife was afflicted with violent epileptic fits. I continued with him about a year, and we had a good run of work, but adverse circumstances bore him down, and in a short time after he left his suffering wife in the care of her parents, sold his effects, and emigrated to America, and I heard but little more of George Whyatt. As to myself, I was glad to leave the neighbourhood, for gross darkness seemed to have covered the minds of the people, being “led captive by the adversary at his will,” from whose power they were not easily delivered, except by divine interposition. The “Royal Oak” was the place of meeting on Sundays. There were then no prohibited hours. Those, who appeared to be of the better class, did not scruple to spend the best part of the Sabbath at the tavern—sad waste of life and time.
From this place, I thought I should like to obtain work at Laxfield, my native village. My parents were still there, and I tried, but did not succeed. There was no open door, and the right way was more eastward and I once more tented my steps to Worlingham, and perhaps felt more happy than I had been for some time. Being accepted at my former lodgings, I worked sometimes for my late master, and sometimes for his father, and had the free use of my hands and feet, and withal felt the privilege of breathing in a more salubrious atmosphere, the comfort of which I felt to be of considerable value, as my aim was not to be conformed to the world. I could attend the services of the church, and also the services of the Wesleyan Methodist Chapel, where I found much spiritual instruction, although, by the way, I did not endorse all their sentiments. My views were becoming Calvanistic, which were strengthened when I occasionally heard Mr. George Wright, Baptist Minister, of Beccles, and Mr. Sloper, of the Congregational Chapel of that town, both of whom are departed hence, and have entered into their rest to be for ever with the Lord, while it is my privilege to follow, although at an humble distance, amid the perplexing and diversified vicissitudes to which poor fallen man is subject in this time state, and having no settled and permanent repose, is continually reminded that the true and substantial rest is at the end of his journey, if sought after according to the instructions contained in God’s Holy Word.
About this time I thought as I had no one but myself, I would try gentleman’s service, not that I had any particular wish to leave Worlingham, but on the whole I thought I might better my condition, so agreed to go into the service of Edmund Skepper, Esq., Maltster, at Oulton, in the capacity of a groom and gardener. The family here consisted of master, mistress, widowed daughter, and grand daughter, two female servants, myself, and a lad living out to attend to cows, fowls, pigs, &c.