On Littleton downs he erected a hut for his own and others’ accommodation when the weather was bad; (this was blown down in a violent hurricane of wind, but was afterward rebuilt of firmer material, viz., brick, and made more convenient by his friend, Dr. Stonehouse). Beneath its roof, when the flocks were placed in safety, he would collect the shepherds and shepherdesses (for there were several at that time owing to the deficiency of male persons to do the work), and read to them from the Bible, or rather commentary, now in the possession of Mrs. Bartlett, of Cheverill, and after talking with them would engage in prayer. One now living (1855), then young, has stated that no one knew where he put the bible after reading, as she with others often searched but could never find it. He would sharply reprove the idle and careless, and then encourage them to diligence in some way or other, saying, “we cannot expect young ones to be old ones, I was young myself once.”
Among the other efforts which he put forth for the good of those around him was the opening of an evening school, where he taught such as desired it to read and write. Finding his house too small to accommodate his increasing family, but especially for those who came to hear and be instructed, he obtained the one adjoining, which he chiefly devoted to this purpose. A gentleman by the name of Bartlett, frequently invited him to his house; he had a son, an infant, who engaged the shepherd’s particular attention; and it is remarked, when at Cheverill, he would never leave the house until he had knelt at the cradle of the babe and poured out his soul in earnest supplication for his eternal welfare. Upon the death of the shepherd, that child, risen to the state of youth, appropriated the money that had been given him and which he had suffered to accumulate, to the purchase of the family bible, still in the possession of his widow, and which the Author has seen; it was a commentary, doubtless published by Wesley at the commencement of his public career, soon after leaving college; the date is 1751. He also bought the sheep-bells and two pet lambs, the last he ever kept, which was a privilege allowed by flock-masters to their shepherds. A view of the hallowed spot where this good man abode, and where stood the cot within which he first drew his breath, may be obtained to peculiar advantage, attended with great picturesque beauty (as if nature would do honour to his memory), from a field adjoining Ladywood, just beyond the grove which is approached through the churchyard; a spot of which a respectable gentleman, formerly occupying an important position in the Independent church of this place, was wont to speak in terms of the highest praise. “I can never pass this spot,” said he, “without stopping to admire its peculiar beauty.” Doubtless the eye, the inlet to the soul, was instrumental in producing associations of the most pleasing character bearing upon the man and events whose history we are now recording, and contemplating those probable results which time would develope.
It was a favourite saying of the shepherd’s when any one was disposed to stint a child or children in food, “Cut your last loaf as cheerfully as the first, they are growing and want plenty of victuals, if God sends children he will send bread.”
Sometimes when his daily allowance of bread, for this was the staple of his food, became very dry and hard, he would put it into the pond where his flock watered as he passed to the fold, intending after he had finished to return and take it out. On one occasion, having made the deposit, his companion (his dog), influenced by the spirit that often governs his betters, proved treacherous and false, slyly slinking behind he approached the place and appropriated the coveted morsel to satisfy his own selfish appetite, in obedience to the universal law, “Take care of Number One.” Upon becoming acquainted with his loss, and to him it was likely to prove a great privation, as the probability was he must go without food all day, he made his case known to his companions, one of whom, Mary Shore (who was under him for several years), pressed him to accept of hers, as she should not want it, having brought a double portion that day and already eaten sufficient: upon her repeated assurance to this fact he took it, pleasantly remarking, “Never mind, the dog, poor fellow, was hungry, and dogs want food.” Exposed as he was upon the downs to some of those awful manifestations of the Divine power in thunder and lightning, he was never known to exhibit the least fear or alarm as to himself; this did not arise from a stoical apathy or thoughtless hardihood, but a calm composure and preparedness of mind for the Divine will. He would say, “I am ready whenever it pleases God to call me, here or elsewhere, and I do not care where they bury me, they can bury me here if they like,” alluding to the hut before mentioned, near which he was standing.
Although religion in humble garb is apt to meet with reproach and persecution, yet in the case of this lowly follower of the Saviour there appears a mysterious charm, an immortal Ægis thrown around him, by which he was shielded from the many and bitter sufferings that often surround the disciples of Christ, and which awakened towards him respect and affection, not only of his own immediate class, for some that knew him have testified he was a right-down good man and there is no David Saunders now, but also of his superiors far and wide; a circumstance which he appears to have improved to advantage, not to himself or his family, but for the good of others and the glory of God, as he said, “There is not a house in the parish in which I have not engaged in prayer,” in which exercise he manifested a strong temperament, a blending of confidence and enthusiasm bordering upon simplicity. The following is an instance:—Prior to a journey to the neighbourhood of Bath, he was led to engage in prayer with his youngest daughter Sally, then near her time; after commending her to God, he prayed that the child might be a boy. Soon after he reached the place of his visit he received intelligence of the birth, and finding it was according to his wish he immediately retired to return thanks to God for answering his prayer. His mind was also tinctured with a belief in the supernatural. On one occasion he had been to Seend; on returning, he passed near to a house reputed to be haunted; hearing a noise his curiosity was awakened, and on approaching to reconnoitre, a voice (doubtless of some person engaged thereabouts) accosted him with “What doest thou here?” This he supposed to be a reproof from above, which led him immediately to quit the spot: and it is said he never after would go out of his direct road for anything.
Having relatives at Eastcote, he would sometimes walk over there on the Sabbath afternoon, calling upon the several cottagers in his way and invite them to come and hear the Word of God, devoting the time of his visit to a meeting similar to those he held at his own home. This place has continued to have services held on the Sabbath, and forms an out-station to Lavington, which is regularly visited alternately with Easterton, a hamlet noted for the indolent and vitiated character of the inhabitants, as far as it relates to the soul, if indeed they ever think about it.
In a short time similar meetings were held at Cornbury Mill, situated in Spring road, then in the occupation of Mr. John Gauntlett, the grandfather of the individual of that name now resident here, who with several other branches of the family are still identified with the cause of the Redeemer. The humble shepherd devoted his efforts and energies both at home and here to form a spiritual fold. On the mornings of the Sabbath he would gather the sheep and lambs of Christ, such as under the influence of the Spirit hungered and thirsted after righteousness—feed them from the pasture of God’s Word—lead them to the fountains of still waters—direct and comfort the burdened and heavy laden with the precious promise of salvation. How long these continued is not exactly known. The honoured servant of the Lord, labouring under the increasing infirmities of age, especially lameness, probably the consequences of that disease he in early life suffered from, as also blindness, which for two or three years he experienced, he was unable to go far from home. Some friends who held him in high respect, residing at Wyke, near Bath, sent for him and desired him to pay them a visit. It was while here the messenger was sent to invite him to the home of his Heavenly Father, a release he had long anticipated from the toils of this wearisome world. On the night before his death he had engaged with the family in their devotions, and afterwards in his own room with unusual and extraordinary fervency. Sleeping with the son of his host he spent some time conversing on the things of God and eternity until his voice was silenced in sleep—a sleep from which he was not to awake till the Archangel’s trump shall tell the great day of the Lord draweth nigh. Blessed servant who was found watching; his last work on earth talking of heaven. His remains were removed to his own habitation at Littleton, and attended to their last resting-place by a vast concourse of spectators and friends. At his grave a request was presented to the officiating clergyman, the vicar, for permission to sing over his remains, he replied, “When I have done my part you may do as you like,” upon which, singing and prayer were engaged in on the sacred spot, for “precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints,” so also is their dust purchased as the body is with the soul by the Redeemer.
The place where he was laid is near the north-east corner of West Lavington church, where a stone having a circular head, was erected to his memory by a subsequent vicar, the Rev. E. Caswell, from the proceeds of a small work containing letters and other pieces, the production of John Saunders, his grandson, for the benefit of his mother. Three of his sons, who formed part of a family of sixteen, served in the armies of their sovereign. The following is the inscription on the stone:—