This is the first of the three Gleaners. The story of the two that follow will be much shorter.
Circumstances, several years since, led the writer to spend a few days in a secluded little village, in a very retired and beautiful part of the country. It was in the month of August, when the indications of summer were seen on every side—the wheat fields were ready for the hand of the reaper, and during the livelong day there seemed no cessation to the tide of heat that came flowing down from the sun, overwhelming the broad earth and every creature that moved upon it with his fervid influence. The early dawn of morning, and the hour of twilight at the decline of day, seemed to be the only seasons, when one could walk forth with any comfort, to enjoy the rural scenery, that the hand of the Creator had spread with surpassing loveliness around this spot. These seasons were not allowed to pass unimproved. The first morning that I walked forth—while the grey twilight still lingered on hill and dale—casting a sombre, dusky aspect over surrounding objects, as I passed along, refreshed by the fragrant breath exhaled from the fields, cheered by the notes of the feathered tribe who were chanting their early matin lays, and enamored with the glorious scene pencilled on the eastern sky, which brightened and kindled into broader lines of orient radiance every step I took, and every moment I gazed, I saw a young lad, some twelve or thirteen years old, passing by me with a brisk step, but stooping every now and then, to gather up some straws of wheat, that lay scattered along the road. The occurrence, however, awakened no particular attention, and would have been forgotten, had not the same thing been observed in the evening. In returning to my lodgings, after a ramble over the fields on the evening of the same day, I met this boy with quite a bundle of wheat under his arm, moving with a quick step, but stopping every now and then to gather up a single straw that lay in the road.
The next morning, the circumstance had quite passed out of my mind, till suddenly and unexpectedly the form of this boy again appeared before me. He was still occupied in the same manner. He seemed in a great hurry, and yet he stooped to pick up every straw that lay in his path. I felt an unusual curiosity to learn his history, and the motives that influenced his conduct. Upon inquiry, I was made acquainted with the following facts. This lad was an orphan boy, who resided in an old cottage, about a mile distant from where I met him, with an aged grand-mother, who was blind, and very poor. Her children had all gone down to the grave, and this boy was the only representative of her family. The old blind cottager, was one who trusted in the Lord, and believed that he did all things well. She tried to train up her child to a life of industry and early piety. He was a promising lad and seemed disposed to aid his aged grand parent, and contribute to her comfort by every means in his power. Every evening he would read to her out of God's holy book, and in the day he sought some occupation by which he could contribute to her maintenance. At the time I fell in with him, he was in the employ of a wealthy farmer, assisting in securing the wheat harvest. This farmer resided in the outskirts of the village, while the broad fields which he cultivated, lay abroad in lengthening expansion and beauty in the immediate vicinity of his dwelling. Several of his barns were contiguous to his dwelling, so that the wheat when harvested, was principally conveyed from the field where it grew, along the road on which I had taken my walks, to these barns. Hence as one loaded wane after another was driven along, the whole road became strewed with heads and stalks of wheat. This lad, to whom I have referred, rose a half an hour earlier in the morning to go on his way to his daily toil, and lingered a half an hour later at evening on his way homeward to his nightly couch, in order to gather up these wheat stalks that had fallen by the way. These wheat gleanings thus gathered up by the way he every night carried home with him and subsequently threshed, and by steady perseverance in this course was able to obtain a considerable quantity of grain, to afford bread both for himself and his aged grand parent. Was not this a beautiful instance of filial piety? This is the story of our second gleaner—one who gleaned by the way.
Some twelve years since, it was our happiness, to have met a very remarkable man, who seemed to live for one single purpose. He possessed naturally great strength and brilliancy of intellect. While yet a child, a highly gifted mother had laid her plastic hand upon his character, and so directed his education as to bring out the highest powers of his mind in symmetrical development. Thus through the educational advantages he enjoyed, he was prepared to make large attainments, and to gather much information from every field of knowledge through which he walked. As he grew up, he became furnished with most ample stores of learning. He had the power to instruct and to please, and was eminently fitted to act upon other minds. Added to all this—he was a Christian. He had felt the power of a Saviour's love, and had consecrated himself to his service. To him had been committed the ministry of reconciliation, and he was acting as the legate of the skies—the ambassador of the King of kings. This was his business. All the powers of his mind were consecrated to the work of winning souls to Jesus. He still moved around in society. He was still the charm of every circle in which he was found. He did not always speak upon religion. He did not always stand before his fellow men in the attitude of a preacher. He travelled; for his health required it. He walked out into the fields. He looked abroad over the face of nature. He moved amid the circles of his fellow men. He engaged in literary pursuits and scientific investigations. But he pursued nothing to the neglect of ministerial duty. And from every circle in which he moved, from every scene he witnessed, from every company he met, from every field he trod, from every object to which he turned his eye, from every investigation in which he engaged, he gleaned something, by which to throw new charms around religion, and enable him to reach minds through new channels. He never for one moment lost sight of his great business—but was all the time steadily moving forward to the attainment of the object for which he lived and laboured. All his pursuits—all his enjoyments, all his recreations, were made to contribute at least indirectly to the furtherance of that great object. Like the wheat gleaning boy, he went to his daily labour, and relaxed no effort in the business of prosecuting prescribed ministerial duties, yet while going to and from these duties, he GLEANED BY THE WAY. Every flower that spread its expanded petals before his eye, every breath of music that fell upon his ear, every dew drop that glittered in the beams of morning, every little tiny insect that flitted across his path, every landscape that stretched before him, every mountain and hill that pointed upward to heaven, every forest and stream on which his eye rested, every star that hung out its golden lamp on the sable curtain of night, every interview of friendship, every vicissitude of life, every incident of travel, every occurrence whether pleasing or painful, presented to his enriched intellect some new aspect of thought, from which he could glean materials for the instruction of other minds. Thus he gleaned by the way. And through these gleanings he acted upon a thousand minds, that he could not otherwise have reached. He has gone to his reward. He sleeps in the silent sepulchre. But though dead, he yet speaketh. A thousand flowers gathered by his hand from the fields of literature and the scenes of active life, and by his hand planted in the garden of the Lord, still remain, and from their contiguity to Siloa's sacred font, and the blood-stained cross, they bloom with brighter tints, and richer fragrance, and still lead many to approach and fix their eye on that blessed cross, and ultimately to feel its transforming power. This is the history of our third gleaner. And from the history of the three, our readers will be at no loss to determine what suggested to us the idea of entitling this volume gleanings by the way.