Part 15

An offender of justice was once passing her house on his way to the whipping-post, when a boy, who observed him from her window, could not withhold a tear. He tried to conceal his emotion, but Mrs. Phillips saw the pearl drop of pity, and while a kindred drop fell from her own eyes, she said to him, with much emphasis and as though laying down some golden maxim--"When you become a law maker, examine the subject of corporeal punishment, and see if it is not unnatural, vindictive and productive of much evil." She was very discriminating, and could detect talent as well as tears; and addressed the lad with a premonition that he was destined to become a legislator--which was indeed the case. Elected to the assembly of the state, with the sacred command of his early and revered mentor impressed on his memory, he early called the attention of that body to the subject of corporeal punishment; had the statute book revised and the odious law, save in capital offences, expunged, and the pleasure of announcing the fact to the original suggestor of the movement.

WORTHY EXAMPLE OF A POOR WIDOW.

Howe'er it be, it seems to me 'Tis only noble to be good; Kind hearts are more than coronets, And simple faith than Norman blood.

TENNYSON.

The following article was communicated to the Christian Watchman and Reflector, of Boston, for January thirtieth, 1851. The facts are given without coloring or embellishment. The subject of the article has gone to the grave, but the influence of her exemplary life has not ceased to be felt. Her

"Speaking dust Has more of life than half its breathing moulds."

Some twenty years since, the writer became pastor of a church in the town of B. A few weeks after my settlement, I called at the humble dwelling of a poor widow, with whom I had already become somewhat acquainted. Having been apprised of the high estimation in which she was held by the church of which she was a member, for her cheerful and consistent piety, an interesting and profitable interview was anticipated. I had been seated but a few moments when she placed in my hand one dollar, and proceeded, by way of explanation, to make the following statements, which I give as nearly as possible in her own language:

"Before you came among us, our church and people where in a very depressed and disheartened condition. For two or three Sabbaths we had no religious services during the day. How sad to be as sheep without a shepherd, and to have the house of God closed on his holy day! If the Lord would only send us a pastor, I felt willing to do any thing in my power to aid in sustaining him. But then the thought occurred to me, What can _you_ do, a poor widow, with four small children to support, and your house rent to pay? It is quite as much as you can do to meet necessary expenses. For a moment I was sad; but my mind still dwelt upon the subject, until finally this plan occurred to me: 'God has blessed you with excellent health, and you can sit up and work between the hours of nine and eleven or twelve o'clock at night; and what you thus earn you can give for that object.' I was at once relieved, and resolved before the Lord that, if he would send us a pastor, I would immediately commence my labors, and do what I could to aid in sustaining and encouraging him. I felt that now I could pray consistently, as I was willing to do my duty. With a faith and fervor to which I had before been a stranger, I besought the Lord speedily to favor us with an under-shepherd; and soon you came here to preach for us. I believed God sent you; and although at first you had no idea of remaining, I never doubted that you would become our pastor. As soon as you had accepted the call of the church, I began to work in accordance with my vow, and that dollar is the result of my earning, the last four weeks. And O, you would rejoice with me, could you know how much I have enjoyed these silent hours of night, when my children around me are wrapt in slumber, and all is as the stillness of the grave. The Lord has been with me continually, and I have had uninterrupted communion with him. When God had given us a pastor, I felt I must pray for a blessing to attend his labors among us; and, often have I been so impressed with the importance of a revival of religion, and the conversion of my children, and the people of this place, that I have been obliged to leave my work, and kneel down before my Maker, and earnestly plead with him that his Spirit may accomplish this work. Even after I had retired to rest, I have sometimes been obliged to arise and pray that he would save the souls of this people. And, blessed be his holy name, he has listened to prayer for this object also. When I heard of the numbers who attended the religious inquiry meeting, and the hopeful conversion of some to God, I felt I could say, 'This is the Lord, I have waited for him;' and I believe he will do greater things than these in our midst. Thus has God blessed one of the most unworthy of all his creatures; and I have often been led to sing, while I have been laboring here, lowly as is my condition,

'I would not change my blest estate, With all that earth calls rich or great; And, while my faith can keep her hold, I envy not the sinner's gold.'"

My attention had been absorbed with this interesting and affecting narrative; nor had I any inclination to interrupt it with remarks of my own. I now thought I could read the secret of the apparent success which had attended my labors in so short a time. As soon as I could recover from my emotions, I said to her, I am grateful for your prayers and this proffered donation; but, as my parish affords me a competent support, I can on no account feel at liberty to appropriate to my own private use the money thus earned. No; you shall have the additional satisfaction, while you are toiling at these unseasonable hours of night, of knowing that what you place in my hands shall be sacredly devoted to the cause of Christian benevolence, which I am sure you ardently love. With this she expressed herself satisfied; and continued her toils and prayers.

It may be asked, What was the result? The answer is recorded with pleasure, and, I trust, with gratitude to God. Besides punctually attending all the meetings of the church, and laboring much in private for the eternal welfare of souls; besides supporting her family with more ease than formerly, as she stated to her pastor, at the close of the first year, and paying her assessments in several charitable societies to which she belonged, and also contributing something whenever a public collection was taken for benevolent objects; in addition to all this, she had placed in my hands ten dollars and a half, which was appropriated as stated above. Her donations for objects of religious charity must have amounted to at least _twelve dollars_ during that year, which, it is presumed, exceeded the amount given for similar objects by any other member of the church, although quite a number possessed a comfortable share of wealth. It may be thought that she was engaged in some business which yielded a handsome profit to reward her toils. But no; her business was shoe-binding, not then by any means very profitable. And who, with her disposition and spirit, could not do something to aid the cause of God? But what she earned and gave was not all. Her prayers, it is believed, had secured for the church a pastor, and been the means, with others, of the commencement of a revival of religion, which continued to prevail to a greater or less extent, for three successive years, during which time a large number were hopefully converted and added to the church: and among them several of her older children, who were away from home.

ELIZABETH ESTAUGH.

A perfect woman, nobly planned, To warn, to comfort and command; And yet a spirit still, and bright With something of an angel light.

WORDSWORTH.

Elizabeth Haddon was the oldest daughter of John Haddon, a well educated and wealthy, yet humble, Quaker, of London. She had two sisters, both of whom, with herself, received the highest finish of a practical education. Elizabeth possessed uncommon strength of mind, earnestness, energy and originality of character, and a heart overflowing with the kindest and warmest feelings. A single anecdote of her childhood, told by Mrs. Child, will illustrate the nobleness of nature which characterized her life:

"At one time, she asked to have a large cake baked, because she wanted to invite some little girls. All her small funds were expended for oranges and candy on this occasion. When the time arrived, her father and mother were much surprised to see her lead in six little ragged beggars. They were, however, too sincerely humble and religious to _express_ any surprise. They treated the forlorn little ones very tenderly, and freely granted their daughter's request to give them some of her books and playthings at parting. When they had gone, the good mother quietly said, 'Elizabeth, why didst thou invite strangers, instead of thy schoolmates?' There was a heavenly expression in her eye, as she looked up earnestly, and answered, 'Mother, I wanted to invite _them_, they looked _so_ poor.'"

When eleven years of age, she accompanied her parents to the Yearly Meeting of the Friends, where she heard, among other preachers, a very young man named John Estaugh, with whose manner of presenting divine truth she was particularly pleased. Many of his words were treasured in her memory. At the age of seventeen she made a profession of religion, uniting herself with the Quakers.

During her early youth, William Penn visited the house of her father, and greatly amused her by describing his adventures with the Indians. From that time she became interested in the emigrant Quakers, and early began to talk of coming to America. Her father at length purchased a tract of land in New Jersey, with the view of emigrating, but his affairs took a new turn, and he made up his mind to remain in his native land. This decision disappointed Elizabeth. She had cherished the conviction that it was her duty to come to this country; and when, at length, her father, who was unwilling that any of his property should lie unimproved, offered the tract of land in New Jersey to any relative who would settle upon it, she promptly agreed to accept of the proffered estate. Willing that their child should follow in the path of duty, at the end of three months, and after much prayer, the parents consented to let Elizabeth join "the Lord's people in the New World."

Accordingly, early in the spring of 1700, writes Mrs. Child, in whose sweet language, slightly condensed, the rest of the narrative is told, arrangements were made for her departure, and all things were provided that the abundance of wealth, or the ingenuity of affection, could devise.

A poor widow of good sense and discretion accompanied her, as friend and housekeeper, and two trusty men servants, members of the Society of Friends. Among the many singular manifestations of strong faith and religious zeal, connected with the settlement of this country, few are more remarkable than the voluntary separation of this girl of eighteen years old from a wealthy home and all the pleasant associations of childhood, to go to a distant and thinly inhabited country, to fulfill what she considered a religious duty. And the humble, self-sacrificing faith of the parents, in giving up their child, with such reverend tenderness for the promptings of her own conscience, has in it something sublimely beautiful, if we look at it in its own pure light. The parting took place with more love than words can express, and yet without a tear on either side. Even during the long and tedious voyage, Elizabeth never wept. She preserved a martyr-like cheerfulness and serenity to the end.

The house prepared for her reception stood in a clearing of the forest, three miles from any other dwelling. She arrived in June, when the landscape was smiling in youthful beauty; and it seemed to her as if the arch of heaven was never before so clear and bright, the carpet of the earth never so verdant. As she sat at her window and saw evening close in upon her in that broad forest home, and heard, for the first time, the mournful notes of the whippo-wil and the harsh scream of the jay in the distant woods, she was oppressed with a sense of vastness, of infinity, which she never before experienced, not even on the ocean. She remained long in prayer, and when she lay down to sleep beside her matron friend, no words were spoken between them. The elder, overcome with fatigue, soon sank into a peaceful slumber; but the young enthusiast lay long awake, listening to the lone voice of the whippo-wil complaining to the night. Yet, notwithstanding this prolonged wakefulness, she arose early and looked out upon the lovely landscape. The rising sun pointed to the tallest trees with his golden finger, and was welcomed with a gush of song from a thousand warblers. The poetry in Elizabeth's soul, repressed by the severe plainness of her education, gushed up like a fountain. She dropped on her knees, and, with an outburst of prayer, exclaimed fervently, "Oh, Father, very beautiful hast thou made this earth! How bountiful are thy gifts, O Lord!"

To a spirit less meek and brave, the darker shades of the picture would have obscured these cheerful gleams; for the situation was lonely and the inconveniences innumerable. But Elizabeth easily triumphed over all obstacles, by practical good sense and the quick promptings of her ingenuity. She was one of those clear strong natures, who always have a definite aim in view, and who see at once the means best suited to the end. Her first inquiry was what grain was best adapted to the soil of her farm; and being informed that rye would yield best, "Then I shall eat rye bread," was her answer. But when winter came, and the gleaming snow spread its unbroken silence over hill and plain, was it not dreary then? It would have been dreary indeed to one who entered upon this mode of life from mere love of novelty, or a vain desire to do something extraordinary. But the idea of extended usefulness, which had first lured this remarkable girl into a path so unusual, sustained her through all trials. She was too busy to be sad, and leaned too trustingly on her Father's hand to be doubtful of her way. The neighboring Indians soon loved her as a friend, for they found her always truthful, just, and kind. From their teachings, she added much to her knowledge of simple medicines. So efficient was her skill and so prompt her sympathy, that for many miles round, if man, woman, or child were alarmingly ill, they were sure to send for Elizabeth Haddon; and wherever she went, her observing mind gathered some hint for the improvement of farm or dairy. Her house and heart were both large; and as her residence was on the way to the Quaker meeting-house in Newtown, it became a place of universal resort to Friends from all parts of the country traveling that road, as well as an asylum for benighted wanderers.

The winter was drawing to a close, when late one evening, the sound of sleigh-bells was heard, and the crunching of snow beneath the hoofs of horses, as they passed into the barn-yard gate. The arrival of travelers was too common an occurrence to excite or disturb the well-ordered family.

Great logs were piled in the capacious chimney, and the flames blazed up with a crackling warmth, when two strangers entered. In the younger, Elizabeth instantly recognized John Estaugh, whose preaching had so deeply impressed her at eleven years of age. This was almost like a glimpse of home--her dear old English home! She stepped forward with more than usual cordiality, saying:

"Thou art welcome, Friend Estaugh; the more so for being entirely unexpected."

"And I am glad to see thee, Elizabeth," he replied with a friendly shake of the hand. "It was not until after I landed in America, that I heard the Lord had called thee hither before me; but I remember thy father told me how often thou hadst played the settler in the woods, when thou wast quite a little girl."

"I am but a child still," she replied, smiling.

"I trust thou art," he rejoined; "and as for these strong impressions in childhood, I have heard of many cases where they seemed to be prophecies sent of the Lord. When I saw thy father in London, I had even then an indistinct idea that I might sometime be sent to America on a religious visit."

"And hast thou forgotten, Friend John, the ear of Indian corn which my father begged of thee for me? I can show it to thee now. Since then I have seen this grain in perfect growth; and a goodly plant it is, I assure thee. See," she continued, pointing to many bunches of ripe corn, which hung in their braided husks against the walls of the ample kitchen: "all that, and more, came from a single ear, no bigger than the one thou didst give my father. May the seed sown by thy ministry be as fruitful!" "Amen," replied both the guests.

The next morning, it was discovered that snow had fallen during the night in heavy drifts, and the roads were impassable. Elizabeth, according to her usual custom, sent out men, oxen and sledges, to open pathways for several poor families, and for households whose inmates were visited by illness. In this duty, John Estaugh and his friend joined heartily and none of the laborers worked harder than they. When he returned, glowing from this exercise, she could not but observe that the excellent youth had a goodly countenance. It was not physical beauty; for of that he had little. It was that cheerful, child-like, out-beaming honesty of expression, which we not unfrequently see in Germans, who, above all nations, look as if they carried a crystal heart within their manly bosoms.

Two days after, when Elizabeth went to visit her patients, with a sled-load of medicines and provisions, John asked permission to accompany her. There, by the bedside of the aged and the suffering, she saw the clear sincerity of his countenance warmed with rays of love, while he spoke to them words of kindness and consolation; and there she heard his pleasant voice modulate itself into deeper tenderness of expression, when he took little children in his arms.

The next First day, which we call the Sabbath, the whole family attended Newtown meeting; and there John Estaugh was gifted with an out-pouring of the spirit in his ministry, which sank deep into the hearts of those who listened to him. Elizabeth found it so marvellously applicable to the trials and temptations of her own soul, that she almost deemed it was spoken on purpose for her. She said nothing of this, but she pondered upon it deeply. Thus did a few days of united duties make them more thoroughly acquainted with each other, than they could have been by years of fashionable intercourse.

The young preacher soon after bade farewell, to visit other meetings in Pennsylvania and New Jersey. Elizabeth saw him no more until the May following, when he stopped at her house to lodge, with numerous other Friends, on their way to the Quarterly Meeting at Salem. In the morning, quite a cavalcade started from her hospitable door, on horseback; for wagons were then unknown in Jersey. John Estaugh, always kindly in his impulses, busied himself with helping a lame and very ugly old woman, and left his hostess to mount her horse as she could. Most young women would have felt slighted; but in Elizabeth's noble soul the quiet deep tide of feeling rippled with an inward joy. "He is always kindest to the poor and the neglected," thought she; "verily he _is_ a good youth." She was leaning over the side of her horse, to adjust the buckle of the girth, when he came up on horseback, and inquired if anything was out of order. She thanked him, with slight confusion of manner, and a voice less calm than her usual utterance. He assisted her to mount, and they trotted along leisurely behind the procession of guests, speaking of the soil and climate of this new country, and how wonderfully the Lord had here provided a home for his chosen people. Presently the girth began to slip, and the saddle turned so much on one side, that Elizabeth was obliged to dismount. It took some time to re-adjust it, and when they again started, the company were out of sight. There was brighter color than usual in the maiden's cheeks, and unwonted radiance in her mild deep eyes. After a short silence, she said, in a voice slightly tremulous, "Friend John, I have a subject of importance on my mind, and one which nearly interests thee. I am strongly impressed that the Lord has sent thee to me as a partner for life. I tell thee my impression frankly, but not without calm and deep reflection; for matrimony is a holy relation, and should be entered into with all sobriety. If thou hast no light on the subject, wilt thou gather into the stillness, and reverently listen to thy own inward revealings? Thou art to leave this part of the country to-morrow, and not knowing when I should see thee again, I felt moved to tell thee what lay upon my mind."

The young man was taken by surprise. Though accustomed to that suppression of emotion which characterizes his religious sect, the color went and came rapidly in his face, for a moment; but he soon became calmer, and replied, "This thought is new to me, Elizabeth; and I have no light thereon. Thy company has been right pleasant to me, and thy countenance ever reminds me of William Penn's title page, 'Innocency with her open face.' I have seen thy kindness to the poor, and the wise management of thy household. I have observed, too, that thy warm-heartedness is tempered by a most excellent discretion, and that thy speech is ever sincere. Assuredly, such is the maiden I would ask of the Lord, as a most precious gift; but I never thought of this connexion with thee. I came to this country solely on a religious visit, and it might distract my mind to entertain this subject at present. When I have discharged the duties of my mission, we will speak further."

"It is best so," rejoined the maiden; "but there is one thing disturbs my conscience. Thou hast spoken of my true speech; and yet, Friend John, I have deceived thee a little, even now, while we conferred together on a subject so serious. I know not from what weakness the temptation came; but I will not hide it from thee. I allowed thee to suppose, just now, that I was fastening the girth of my horse securely; but, in plain truth, I was loosening the girth, John, that the saddle might slip, and give me an excuse to fall behind our friends; for I thought thou wouldst be kind enough to come and ask if I needed thy services."

They spoke no further concerning their union; but when he returned to England, in July, he pressed her hand affectionately, as he said, "Farewell, Elizabeth. If it be the Lord's will, I shall return to thee soon."

In October, he returned to America, and they were soon married, at Newtown meeting, according to the simple form of the Society of Friends. Neither of them made any change of dress for the occasion, and there was no wedding feast. Without the aid of priest or magistrate, they took each other by the hand, and, in the presence of witnesses, calmly and solemnly promised to be kind and faithful to each other. The wedded pair quietly returned to their happy home, with none to intrude upon those sacred hours of human life, when the heart most needs to be left alone with its own deep emotions.