The nuptials were celebrated, Mr. William Clarke and his bride left for their honeymoon. I don’t think that I have ever seen them since. During our visit, of a week’s duration, in the day time I was at the Manor House, but at night I slept at the house of the farm bailiff, at the neat little lodge.
Swaffham church is possessed of a very handsome tower, the bells of which rang out beautifully on that happy occasion. It was a joyful season—the whole town seemed as if they must be real joy birds, as the bridegroom was the only child of his aged parents.
I attended church on the Sabbath morning, there being a large congregation assembled within its walls; and in the afternoon visited the Baptist Chapel with Alice (one of the servants at the Manor House) and heard a very solemn discourse, delivered by Mr. Hewitt, the minister at that place. The Union House was then being built, and I have not seen it since it was completed. We drove round several villages—Sporle, Castleacre, and Southacre. Thus the time passed on, until the period arrived for us to make our return journey. In doing so, we again stayed a night in Norwich, and subsequently, thanks for the mercies of our God, we arrived safe at Oulton.
During the same year, 1837, Mrs. Clarke’s only brother was borne to a cold grave, being only 42 years of age. He had just been altering the house and premises to his own mind, when he was called away from this transitory state. My youngest brother also sickened and died in this year, at the age of 22, having been born in the month in which the battle of Waterloo was fought. Seeing our days are as a vapour, every sorrow cuts a string and urges us to rise. Thus we are called to experience the various scenes of light and shade through which we have to pass in prosecuting our journey to our final home.
Having had many opportunities of discussing the subject of regeneration and the new birth, and as God, in His boundless mercy, had granted unto me the presence of His Holy Spirit to witness with my spirit that He was indeed in earnest with me, and thus I was brought to feel the weight of this question, “and now, why tarryist Thou, arise and be baptised.” I stated my convictions unto the church worshipping at Lowestoft, opposite the Vicarage (now a school,) and was baptised in June of that year by William Garwood, “in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost,” as an answer of an obedient and quickened conscience towards my Lord and my God. I did not very much enjoy the preaching of Mr. Denniss, our rector. He was rather a domineering steward, contending that the Church of England, the church of his fathers, was the only true church; that it honours the bible, and was one of the oldest branches of Christ’s Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church, while dissenters and their creeds and ordinance, were erroneous and misleading and would in the end prove destructive to body and soul. I came into collision with that gentlemen more than once, for in those days I read the bible in search of truth, and sometimes I felt I had aid and enlightenment given me from on high, and I concluded that there were those apart from the Church enjoying unspeakable happiness.
This eventful year rolled on with its multitude of joys and sorrows, hastening us on through all life’s varied stages, continually seeking after happiness, our being’s end and aim, and labouring, working with our hands, the most important method of obtaining the bread which sustains the body, as well as being directed to that which endureth unto eternal life, which shall be inherited and enjoyed by everyone of God’s dear children. I used to think that the entire little band who resided at that remote corner of the vine-yard, at least all who were come to years of maturity, were amongst that happy number, we read good books, prayed that the Lord would be our director, and felt that we were journeying to the place which the Lord had prepared for those that love and serve his name. I had often heard Mr. Adams express himself, that Mr. Breame Skepper was to him a guide, a counsellor, and friend, but now he was taken away no more to counsel, and to comfort, and direct. These are some of the mysterious dispensations of a wise and loving Father, and although we are not now permitted to know the whys and the wherefores, yet we shall know hereafter, enough is for the present revealed, that we may trust in the Lord, and stay ourselves upon his gracious assurances, and surely “All things work together for good to them that love God.”
I ought to have observed that one of the first acts performed by Mr. Denniss was to build a gallery at the west end of the Church, for the accommodation of the working men; in this he was assisted by others, as the subjoined inscription witnesseth—
“This gallery was erected at the expense of the patron and some of the principal landowners of the parish, A.D., 1836.”
Edwin P. Denniss, B.C.L. Rector.
Henry Youngman, Breame Skepper, Churchwardens.
Next he had to superintend the building of a Rectory House, this took place 1837–8; it was accomplished, and a very handsome and convenient house it looks, but it was not for the enjoyment of its builder very long, and while I am writing it has been the residence of three rectors beside Mr. Denniss, who was a working clergymen, and no doubt felt whilst he was industriously promoting habits of thrift and economy among the working classes, and founding what was called a clothing club, he was doing the work of the Lord, yet it was thought and said that too much of it was transacted on the day of the Lord; in other respects it was a means of drawing the common people to church, where much of this business was transacted, and carnal things took the place of spiritual.
Other great events occurred during that memorable year 1837. Our King William IV. whose health had been for some months in a precarious state, died at Windsor, on the 20th of June, after a short reign of seven years. There was a large gathering at St. Peter’s Chapel on the day of the funeral, a solemn service was conducted by Mr. Cunningham, the vicar, the text was from Micah vi. 9, “The Lord’s voice crieth unto the city, and the man of wisdom shall see thy name, hear ye the rod, and who hath appointed it.”