After continuing as a scholar for three, and a teacher for about two years, he removed to a neighboring town, as an apprentice. Absent from the parental roof,—placed in the midst of temptation, and surrounded by many allurements,—Thomas soon became forgetful of his former instructions, and his Sabbath-school engagements: instead of connecting himself with the school, and being found on the form by the side of his class, he might be seen ranging over the fields, and wandering through lanes, in company with those whom he had chosen as his associates. One thing is worthy of remark, and it shows the force of habit, and the power of early associations: he was regular in his attendance at the Wesleyan Chapel twice a day. This happened, perhaps, not more from choice than from a partial restraint which he felt, from the knowledge, that if he neglected this duty, it would come to the ears of his parents, and not only grieve them, but bring down on him their displeasure.
Though thus, for a brief space, led away into the sins of youth, Thomas was far from falling into what would be called gross sins.
The superintendent of the H—— circuit at this time was the Rev. J.R., a man who, in the work of the Lord, was instant in season, and out of season; and who was made very useful, not only by his public ministrations, but in his numerous and constant private visits among his flock, and the members of his congregation.
Under a sermon by Mr. R., addressed specially to the young, the subject of our sketch was powerfully wrought upon by the Holy Spirit, and awakened to a right sense of his danger as a sinner. But he strove to banish these convictions, and soon again became careless and indifferent to the great concerns of his soul's salvation.
About this period Thomas's father, anxious that he should become decided for God, told him he would send Mr. R. to visit him. But so averse was Thomas from seeing him, that he declared should Mr. R. walk in at one door, he would walk out at the other. However, Mr. R. called; and Thomas did not, and could not, put his threat into execution. Mr. R. urged upon him the danger of a course of sin,—the necessity and advantages of seeking God in youth,—and begged him to join his class, which met at seven o'clock on Sabbath mornings. Thomas promised to go; but when the morning came he broke his promise, and remained at home. In the succeeding week Mr. R. again called. Thomas again promised; and on the following Sabbath met in class for the first time. In about a month after joining the society, he was enabled to exercise faith in Christ, and obtained a clear evidence of his acceptance with God: this took place on a Sabbath evening, in company with one of his religious friends; while they were pouring out their souls at the throne of grace, light from heaven beamed upon his soul,—he was enabled to believe.
Connected with Thomas's joining the people of God, there is an incident not unworthy of mention here. A short time previously he had, with his elder brother James, paid a visit to their father's house. During that visit, the subject of union with God's people was strongly urged upon both of them by their parents. They had each been the subjects of the Holy Spirit's striving for some time, and were fully awakened to their danger and duty. While walking through one of the shady lanes situated between their home and the chapel, and conversing on the subject of religion, and the necessity of devoting themselves to God, Thomas said, if James would join the society he would. No immediate result followed; but about a fortnight before Thomas's connection with the Church, James had joined the Wesleyans, and had written to his father informing him of Thomas's promise. It was in consequence of this, that Mr. R. was requested to call on him; the result of which, through the blessing of God, was, as the reader has seen, his becoming connected with the Church.
Thomas had joined himself to God's people but a short time, when he determined, by the advice and invitation of his friends, to become a Sabbath-school teacher. His experience and success in this sphere of labor will be best described in his own words: "Soon after my union with the Wesleyans, I became a teacher in the Sunday-school, which, at that time, was not very prosperous. Here, as teacher of one of the junior classes, I strove to do my duty to God and the children placed under my care. A few of our teachers determined to establish a school at I——, a small village about two miles distance from H——, in which the Wesleyans had preaching at a private house, and a class of five members, to whom I willingly gave my assistance. But where should we get a room? was the next question to be solved. After some difficulty on this point, we got the use of an old barn; but which, by the way, had no window in it, and was consequently so dark, that we were obliged to keep the door constantly open, and, it being winter season, we found it very cold. Yet even this was too good to last long, for we were soon told that we could not have the barn any longer, and we were, therefore, obliged to look out for another place. Our next remove was to a different part of the village, to a room over some stables, the floor of which, besides having sundry large holes in it, was so rotten that we were obliged to range the children around by the walls, fearing lest the floor should give way from their weight, if placed in the centre. Even in such a place as this, our school increased from twenty to forty.
"After remaining in this room for some months, I may say truly, in continual fear of our lives, we removed to a much more commodious place, offered us by a Mr. H——, the only person in the village who was in circumstances of ease. But his love after a time grew cold, and we were surprised on our arrival one Sunday, to find that, without giving us the slightest intimation of his intention to do so, he had turned out forms, boxes of books, and all our paraphernalia, and locked the door; alleging as a reason, to the persons who lived at the next house—members of our society—that he wanted the place for potatoes; but to do him justice, I must add, that the room did not see a potato for many months after. I have before stated that we had preaching at the village, in a private house; the persons in whose house the service was held, were, I should say, both past sixty. They were poor, but excellent people. At the same hour with our school, the class used to meet at their house; and as they had only two rooms, it met in the one in which preaching was held. But no sooner did these good old people hear of our being turned out of our place, than they at once—before our arrival—got the forms and books into their house, and seated and arranged the children; so that you may judge of our surprise, when, on finding ourselves shut out from the one place, we were so unexpectedly put into the other. These noble-minded Christians consented that the class should meet in their sleeping-room, and that we should have the use of the other for our school. We could not allow such generous and self-denying devotion for the cause of God to go unrewarded, and we therefore determined to pay them a small sum per annum for the use of the room.
"I have not done with our difficulties yet. The road leading to the village was anything but a good one; indeed, in the winter it was very bad: so that, though in summer we could get plenty of teachers, yet when winter came we could get none, and the whole concern of the school then fell upon three or four. In the midst of our discouragements, one of our superintendents left us. The other was taken ill, and was prevented from being with us for six months. I was nominated to the office of our friend who had left, and excepting when a substitute could be found—which was not very often—I had to take the place of our sick one also: add to this the fact that we had only two other teachers who regularly attended, and you will see that our difficulties were of no light character. Often have I been at our little school with only one teacher and myself; and, indeed, at length things were come to such a crisis, that I said on my return home one afternoon, 'I will go no more; I'll give it all up,' But my friends reasoned with, and showed me the impropriety of such a decision; they told me that as the school was now entirely dependent upon myself for support, I should be much to blame if I gave it up. I listened to their advice, and continued to discharge my duties as well as I was able."
"Beware of desperate steps; the darkest day,