The engagement thus strangely brought to a crisis, was not entered into without much serious forethought and prayer. The path of Providence was distinctly indicated, and there remained but one obstacle in the way of the proposed union, and that was to secure the consent of Mr. Stables; which, to quote Mr. Burdsall's own words, "'to me appeared like asking him for his life'. I was however providentially helped out of this difficulty; for as I was returning from preaching one morning, I met him in a narrow lane at some distance from his own house. When he saw me, he turned round as though he would not meet me. The lane being strait, he took hold of my mare and said, 'What are you a riding preacher now'? I answered, 'To be sure I am, for you see I am upon my mare'. He then said, 'Are my sons right, think you, when they can go to a public house and drink with people and pay nothing'? I replied, 'You are not to give credit to what the world says of us Methodists, or of your sons. I believe your sons fear the Lord, and are wishful to do what is right'. He said, 'Well, he that endureth to the end the same shall be saved'. I replied, 'That is God's word, but it will not suit every one'. He then wished to know whom it would not suit. I answered, 'It will not suit the unregenerate, for were I to tell sinners, that if they endured to the end in their sins they should be saved, I should lie; for they cannot be saved if they do: neither will it suit the self-righteous, for the word of God says, 'Except your righteousness exceed the righteousness of the scribes and pharisees, ye shall in no case enter into the kingdom of heaven'. What I said, seemed to carry conviction to his mind. He said, 'They say you are a good preacher, I shall come and hear you'. 'I should be glad to see you', replied I, 'but I fear your master will not let you come'. We then proceeded towards his house in friendly conversation, and when we were just going to part he said, 'They say you are going to marry my daughter.' I answered, 'I doubt they grieve you with, it.' He said, 'Nay, not at all, for my daughter shall marry whom she likes.' 'You speak very honourably,' said I, 'if you only stand to your word.' To this he replied, 'I will, she shall marry whom she likes.' I said to him, 'I will make you this promise, that I will not marry your daughter for the sake of her fortune, for I do not believe you will give me any with her. If I can be assured that it is of the Lord, I will marry her though you turn her into the street destitute; and, without this persuasion, I would not marry her though you were to give her your whole estate to do so: therefore do not blame me.' He said, 'I cannot,' and we parted." Notwithstanding this plain conversation, Mr. Stables was highly displeased with the match, and offered to give his daughter an additional portion on condition that she would not prosecute it; adding, "If you do, I'll give you sixpence a-week, and you may go about singing Methodist songs."
On their marriage, which took place shortly after, Mr. and Mrs. Burdsall removed to York. The offended father, true to his word, sent his daughter forth literally destitute; not even permitting her to take her personal apparel. It was not until twelve months had elapsed, that any further communication took place. The interview is thus related by Mr. Burdsall in his own quaint style. "I happened to be passing near his house as he was going from it; on my calling to him, he asked what I wanted with him. I said, 'I want to know what place you mean me to have in heaven?' He smiled, and asked, 'Do you mean to go there?' 'I hope so,' said I. He then asked me why I had married his daughter. I told him, because I loved her and thought she would make me a good wife. I added, 'You know, sir, that I told you before I married her, that I would not marry her for the sake of her fortune; neither have I, I do not expect any, the Lord blesses us without any, and he will still continue to bless us.' He acknowledged the truth of what I said, and we parted." The fire of wrath was still smouldering in the heart of the old man, and awakened in the mind of Mrs. Burdsall feelings of painful anxiety, especially, as it was apparent, that life was ebbing fast to its close. Mr. B. therefore, a short time after, addressed a kind but faithful letter to him on the great subject of salvation, and concluded with these remarkable and expressive words, "I have no other reason for writing to you, that I know of, than this, that the sun is going down." This produced no immediate effect, only, whenever they met, Mr. Stables would say, "You write parables to me." The allusion however so appositely and wisely put, like an arrow directed to the mark, had fastened upon his conscience, and was secretly undermining the strength of long and obstinately-cherished resentment. The marksman was skilful, but still better, a man of "fervent effectual prayer." "As a Prince he had power with God and with men, and prevailed," for "when a man's ways please the Lord He maketh even his enemies to be at peace with him." So it turned out. Mr. Burdsall says, "One time, as I was returning home from preaching at a distant place in a very wet cold and hungry state, and as night was coming on, having to pass his residence, I thought I would call and see if he would receive me. I knocked at the door, and he himself opened it. Seeing me he called his eldest daughter and said, 'Here is thy brother, come and take his horse.' I alighted and went in. He then accosted me as he had done once before, asking, 'What are you a riding preacher now?' I answered, 'To be sure I am; for I have ridden from York to Seacroft, and from thence to your house.' 'Well,' said he, 'I know you live well.' I replied, 'We do; but I have not lived so well to day as I might have done; for I feel rather hungry.' He smiled, and bid his daughter put on the tea kettle. We then entered into conversation, in which he said, 'You write parables to me, for you told me the sun was going down.' I answered, 'I did so, and my reason for it was, I knew I had stirred up your wrath in marrying your daughter against your mind, and was fearful lest the sun should go down upon it.' He burst into a flood of tears, and was so melted down, that for three hours, I was prompted both by his feelings and my own to speak of the love of Christ to poor sinners. * * * This was a night to be remembered as my reconciliation with Mr. Stables was at this time effected." The understanding thus happily brought about was never after interrupted; and Mr. Stables practically evinced the sincerity of his feelings by securing to his daughter an annuity for life. In his last illness, which occurred a few years later, Mr. Burdsall, by his own request, frequently visited him, and ministered to his spiritual wants. He died in peace on the 13th of June, 1787.
The first fruits of the union of Richard Burdsall and Mary Stables, was Mary, the subject of the present memoir—the step-sister of the Rev. John Burdsall, who still survives. She was born at York, without Bootham bar, June 19th, 1782. The house which no longer exists, stood just under the shadow of the old gateway, nearly opposite the modern crescent, known as St. Leonard's Place.
The foregoing facts, which to some may appear superfluous, are here introduced not merely with the view of making the reader acquainted with the antecedents of my honoured mother; but the much higher object of illustrating the sovereign mercy of God, and tracing the growth of the religious element in the family. Many a page deeply interesting and instructive might be written which would unfold the grace of God in the history of particular families, flowing as a stream of light from generation to generation, or diffusing itself in the collateral branches; here swelling as "broad rivers and streams," and there narrowed down to a single channel. The causes of such alternations might be profitably investigated, and recorded. The inquiry into one's ancestry would thus answer a nobler purpose than the gratification of human vanity, or the recovery of an alienated inheritance; it would exhibit the influence of the past upon the present, afford important lessons of encouragement or admonition, and discover our claim perhaps, to something better than gold or silver "for the good man" even though he is poor, "leaveth an inheritance to his children's children." How far the moral character as well as the physical constitution of a parent may affect the happiness and control the destiny of his children, is a question, which may be incapable of an exact and satisfactory solution; but the general fact, notwithstanding some strange exceptions, (which however may not be altogether incapable of explanation,) is sufficiently established, that examples of singular excellence, or notorious profligacy may usually he traced to seeds sown in a former generation. They are not therefore to be altogether regarded in the light of isolated phenomena, but as the result of causes, which may be more or less accurately determined. At all events, God reveals himself as "a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate him, and SHEWING MERCY UNTO THOUSANDS OF THEM THAT LOVE HIM AND KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS."
II.
EARLY DAWN.
"THOU HAST HID THESE THINGS FROM THE WISE AND PRUDENT
AND HAST REVEALED THEM UNTO BABES." Matt. xi. 25.
What solemn interest surrounds the dawn of immortal existence,—that precious portion of human life, the first four or five years, which may be termed the perceptive period, too often treated as a mere blank, in which nothing is to be attempted; when the soul is all eye, all ear, continually storing up in an almost faultless memory, impressions, which go far to mould the future character, and which reason, so soon as it is able, will certainly use as part of the material out of which it must form its conclusions! How much of the future depends upon the kind of influence to which the infant mind is subjected! Happily for Mary Burdsall these early years were carefully watched and guarded. The bold and uncompromising character of her father, and the gentle piety of her mother, secured to her a combination of influences particularly favourable to the development of moral and religious feeling. Lessons of truth and love, as yet beyond the comprehension of the child, were effectively taught by means of bright and living examples; and hence grace began to operate with the first unfoldings of reason.
Her earliest recollections were associated with the farm at Sandygate. When about four years old, her grandfather Stables, now reconciled to his daughter, proposed to undertake the charge of Mary's training and education. This arrangement was overruled, providentially as it would seem; for Mr. S., although strictly moral and religious in his way, was a stranger to experimental godliness, and only obtained the knowledge of the truth in his last moments. The occasion of her return to her parents was probably his increasing age and infirmity, as the only impression she retained of him in after life was that of a somewhat crusty and ill-tempered old man, with a huge bobwig, who always laid in bed. His last words to her, which were vividly impressed upon her mind, were, that it was a pity she should go home to be spoiled by Methodism. The few months she spent at Sandygate were not however without some good and permanent result. Her aunt Elizabeth, who was scripturally enlightened, and in a great measure free from other engagements, solicitously occupied herself in endeavouring to impress her tender heart with divine truth. From her lips she learned to lisp the Lord's prayer, the Apostles' creed, several of Watts' divine songs, and in particular the hymn commencing
"How vain are all things here below."