David Saunders,—the Shepherd of Salisbury Plain. Most of our readers are acquainted with that beautiful story, written by Hannah More, entitled “The Shepherd of Salisbury Plain.” The substance of this narrative is a correct account of David Saunders, of West Lavington, England, who died about the period of its publication. The conversation represented as passing between the shepherd and a Mr. Johnston, really took place with Dr. Stonehouse, a neighboring clergyman, who befriended the shepherd on many occasions.
Dr. Stonehouse, who was on a journey, and somewhat fearful, from the appearance of the sky, that rain was at hand, accosted the shepherd by asking him what sort of weather it would be on the morrow. “It will be such weather as pleases me!” said the shepherd. Though the answer was delivered in the mildest and civilest tone that could be imagined, Dr. S. thought the words themselves rather rude and surly, and asked him how that could be. “Because,” replied the shepherd, “it will be such weather as pleases God, and whatever pleases him, always pleases me.”
Dr. S. was quite satisfied with this reply, and entered into conversation with the shepherd in the following manner: “Yours is a troublesome life, honest friend.” “To be sure, sir,” replied the shepherd, “’tis not a very lazy life; but ’tis not near so toilsome as that which my Great Master led for my sake. He had every state and condition of life at his choice, and chose a hard one, while I only submit to the lot that is appointed me.” “You are exposed to great cold and heat,” said the gentleman. “True, sir,” said the shepherd; “but then, I am not exposed to great temptations; and so throwing one thing against another, God is pleased to contrive to make things more equal than we poor, ignorant, short-sighted creatures are apt to think. David was happier when he kept his father’s sheep, on such a plain as this, and singing some of his own psalms, perhaps, than ever he was when he became king of Israel and Judah; and I dare say we should never have had some of the most beautiful texts in all those fine psalms, if he had not been a shepherd, which enabled him to make so many fine comparisons and similitudes, as one may say, from a country life, flocks of sheep, hills, valleys and fountains of water.”
“You think, then,” said the gentleman, “that a laborious life is a happy one?”
“I do, sir, and more especially so as it exposes a man to fewer sins. If king Saul had continued a poor laborious man to the end of his days, he might have lived happy and honest, and died a natural death in his bed at last; which you know, sir, was more than he did. But, I speak with reverence, for it was divine Providence overruled all that, you know, sir, and I do not presume to make comparisons. Beside, sir, my employment has been particularly honored. Moses was a shepherd in the plains of Midian. It was to shepherds keeping their flocks by night, that the angels appeared in Bethlehem, to tell the best news—the gladdest tidings that were ever revealed to poor sinful men; often and often has the thought warmed my poor heart in the coldest night, and filled me with more joy and thankfulness than the best supper could have done.”
This poor shepherd had indeed a depth of wisdom, which infinitely surpassed that of many learned philosophers. How often have they studied the ways of God, without being able to discern them—while all was plain to David Saunders.
An Indian’s Illustration of Scripture. Some years ago one of the preachers of the Mohegan Indians, near Norwich, in Connecticut, was preaching on the language of Solomon, “Cast thy bread upon the waters, for thou shalt find it after many days.” Eccles. xi. 1. To illustrate his subject, and enforce the duty of benevolence, he related a circumstance connected with his early days, as follows: “A certain man was going from Norwich to New London, with a loaded team; on attempting to ascend the hill where Indian lives, he found his team could not draw the load; he came to Indian, and got him to help him with his oxen. After he had got up, he asked Indian what there was to pay. Indian told him to do as much for somebody else.
“Some time afterward, Indian wanted a canoe; he went up Shetucket river, found a tree and made him one. When he got it done, he could not get it to the river; accordingly, he went to a man, and offered him all the money he had, if he would go and draw it to the river for him. The man said he would go. After getting it to the river, Indian offered to pay him. ‘No,’ said the man; ‘don’t you recollect, so long ago, helping a man up the hill by your house?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Well, I am the man; take your canoe and go home.’ So I find it after many days.”