CHAPTER XV.

We talked with open heart, and tongue Affectionate and true, A pair of friends, though I was young, And Matthew seventy-two.

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And, ere we came to Leonard’s rock, He sang those witty rhymes About the crazy OLD CHURCH CLOCK, And the bewildered chimes.

WORDSWORTH.

“I gradually established an acquaintance with this old Clock. It had already proved itself a faithful friend—indeed the only one that I had yet found in Manchester; for my mother’s distant relation was too much involved in the all-absorbing pursuit of making money, to have any room in his thoughts for the wishes and feelings of a poor country cousin like myself. The Clock, however, had grown to be so intimate an acquaintance, that I one day took advantage of a leisure hour to pay it a nearer visit; and was very attentively looking up into its face from the foot of the tower, in the space between it and the houses—which space was then exceedingly narrow, (the houses are now happily taken down,) when my shoulders were suddenly assailed by a very smart blow with a stick, from some person from behind! I turned sharply round, as might be expected, and saw a little active old man, dressed in a suit of rusty black, with a hat somewhat of a clerical shape, and a pair of sharp grey eyes twinkling under very long and very shaggy eye-brows, in the very act of raising his cane for the purpose of repeating the salute. I immediately twisted the offensive weapon out of his grasp, and seeing the reverend character of the assailant, exclaimed, ‘_Nemo me impune_’—flourishing, at the same time, the cane over his head, as if about to return the blow. Nothing daunted with my threat, the little man stood his ground bravely; and said, with a look of mingled fun and fury, ‘Who beat that bit of Latin into your foolish head?’

“‘One,’ said I, ‘whose hand was quite as heavy as yours, though he did not lay on half so hard as you do!’

“‘All the worse—all the worse. Had he struck harder then, you would have needed it less now! But why do you stop up the way to church, and stand gazing up to that tower, as if you were planning to rob the belfry?’

“‘I was thinking,’ said I, for I began to be more amused than angry with the old man, ‘I was thinking, when your cane interrupted my meditations, why it was that men placed clocks in the towers of churches!’

“‘That is easily answered, man; to teach you that time is a sacred thing.’

“‘That is indeed an answer,’ I replied; ‘and one worthy of my old friend Mr. Walker of Seathwaite!’

“‘Mr. Walker!’ exclaimed the old gentleman, in great surprise, ‘what knowest thou of Mr. Walker? a very good man he is, and a very good scholar—not of the University, though—but a good scholar, and an old friend of mine; what knowest thou of him, man?’

“‘Know him! Why he is my old pastor and master—the best friend I have in all the world! Oh, sir! If you know him, you must be a good man too!’

“‘Dont be too sure of that!’ said the old gentleman, somewhat pettishly; ‘there are two opinions on that subject, I promise you. Which of them _I_ may entertain, is no concern of yours!’

“‘Well, sir, but I am sure if you are a friend of Mr. Walker’s, you will do me one service for his sake—the greatest you ever did to a poor lad in your life—you will tell me where I may go to church on Sundays.’

“‘His cane, which I had restored to him, dropped to the ground, and he held up his hands in mute astonishment. ‘The lad’s lost his wits,’ he said, as if to himself—‘_clean gyte_, as his old friend Robert Walker would say! There he is, standing before a church door wide open to receive him, and high enough for even his long legs to stride under, and he coolly asks me where he may go to church on Sundays! Why, man, _there_ you may go to church, not only on Sundays, but every day in the week—and the oftener the better.’

“It was odd that this had never struck me before; but I had fancied, I suppose from its size and beauty, that this was a church intended, like those I had already tried, only for the accommodation of the rich; and I said so to him whom I was addressing.

“The old gentleman smiled at my simplicity, but there was more expression of kindness in his countenance than I had hitherto observed. ‘The rich,’—said he, with a tone of contempt, ‘why, man, that is the PARISH CHURCH, free to all alike, rich and poor, good and bad. The poor are by far the greater number, and, between ourselves, rather the better behaved and more attentive class, of the two. The rich take liberties with me sometimes, which the poor _dare_ not—if they did, I would break every bone in their skin! But,’ said he in a lower tone, ‘I dont think any of them wish me much ill, after all.’

“Then, taking me by the hand, he said, ‘And so, my poor lad, you feared to come into this church because you thought it was the church only of the rich man! Come along with me, and I will soon provide you with a sitting.’

“He dragged me with a rapid step through the church-door, and up the middle aisle, till he came to a place which he doubtless knew to be at that time unoccupied; and setting me down with great force in one corner of a bench, he said, ‘There! sit there! That is your seat as long as you occupy it punctually. If any one shall disturb you, say that old Rivers, the Reverend Joseph Rivers, placed you there; and I should like to see the man that dares disturb you after that!’ and he flourished his cane with an emphasis which seemed to show that the consequences of so rash an act would indeed be serious!

“Such, sir, was my introduction to the Parish Church, and such is the favour—the inestimable blessing—which I owe to the Old Church Clock! How often have I wished that the same blessing could be extended to the multitudes of young men that pour annually from the country into this great metropolis of manufactures and commerce, even if it were accompanied with the sharp discipline of old Mr. Rivers’ cane, which I experienced! Sir, thousands are lost—lost for ever—from the want which I felt, and from which the Old Clock delivered me—want of church-room! It gives them first the plea to spend the Sunday in idleness; and a Sunday so spent is but a preface to one of vice and dissipation. Would that there were a dozen Old Churches in this vast hive of human beings! Well, sir, that seat I have occupied from that day to the present hour—full five-and-forty years! They have been years of trial, and sometimes of trouble to me; but I have always found my best consolation _there_. During my days of toil and labour I was never absent from the Sunday services; and now that a moderate competency and the advance of years give me grounds for retirement from busy life, the daily services find me a constant and delighted attendant. I find the daily temple worship the best possible preparation for that service which I trust may soon be my occupation in a higher sphere; the best soother of the passions; the surest relief in sorrow. Within those walls I have escaped all those anxieties which spring from religious doubts and differences, and have said the same prayers, and listened to the same doctrines during the lapse of half a century. The daily service flows on, in my ears, like my native DUDDON—always the same, yet ever fresh and new. I have seen sects rise and fall, and various forms of dissent flourish and decay; but they have no more moved my mind than the fleeting lights and shadows, sunbeams and storms, which pass successively over that venerable fabric, can disturb its foundations, or even shake one pinnacle from its towers. In those free sittings, so well thronged by pious worshippers, what changes have I lived to behold! I have seen the grey head of many a faithful soldier of CHRIST laid low, while its place in the ranks has instantly been filled up by one as zealous and almost as grey as that which has been removed. Nay, the shepherds of the flock have been smitten as well as the sheep. I followed to the grave my old friend Mr. Joseph Rivers, to whose blunt kindness, and friendship for my master Robert Walker, I was so deeply indebted; and much was I gratified to see the flood of tears that was shed by the poor over the old man’s grave! It was a proof to me that men know how to value honesty and integrity, even though it be clouded, as it sometimes is, by a hasty manner and a rough outside. And I have followed to the grave one to whom I looked up with a feeling of deeper reverence and gratitude—the pious Christian—the courteous gentleman—the late venerable Head of our Church in this place. He was to me not only a teacher, but, I may almost venture to say, a companion and friend. How often have I hoped and prayed that he might be permitted to out-strip me in length of days as far as he did in his Christian walk! But it was not so ordained! Truly may I say of him, in the words of Scripture, ‘That other disciple did out-run Peter,—and I came first to the sepulchre!’”

The silent tears rolled down the old man’s cheek as he paused for a moment to meditate on the tomb of his pastor.

“My tale,” he soon added, “is now at an end. It is probably, as I said, but of little interest to any one but myself, and you who have so kindly listened to it. Yet I shall not have told it to you in vain, if it lead you to recollect that the poorest man you meet has his little history, could he be induced to tell it; and his deep interest in the Church, could he be led to think so. At all events,” he concluded, with a smile, “you will not, I am sure, now blame me much, should you meet the Old Man once more on the Victoria-bridge, on a Saturday night, and find him setting his watch by—(even should it be a few minutes too slow)—THE OLD CHURCH CLOCK.”

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The End.

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PRINTED BY CHARLES SIMMS AND CO., MANCHESTER.

FOOTNOTES.

{vii} It would be very interesting to trace the precise period when the late culpable neglect of Church discipline (more especially in observing the duty of daily prayer in churches) began to be generally prevalent. It would seem to be soon after, and not before, the year 1720. The author has now lying before him a daily journal kept by a collateral ancestor, who was curate of Garstang Church-Town, an agricultural district of this county, in the years 1723–4–5, from which it appears that, even in that retired district, prayers were then said in the church on all Wednesdays and Fridays, and all Saints’ days and Holydays throughout the year. The labour of a curate then, (for the vicar was non-resident,) was such as is seldom surpassed even by the often almost intolerable toils of the present day. The following is a specimen of the journal referred to:—

“APRIL, 1723.

“12. _Good Friday_. Read prayers, Mr. Hayward [the vicar] preached, and we administered the sacrament to 236 communicants. After dinner I went into Claughton [two miles off] to visit the sick.

“13. Mr. Hayward read prayers; I went into the parish, and administered the sacrament at three private houses to sick and aged people.

“14. _Easter Day_. I read prayers. Mr. Hayward preached; and we administered the sacrament to 285 communicants. Afternoon: Mr. Hayward read prayers, and I preached; and then went to visit a sick child.”

The reader will be struck with the large attendance at the communion. We have had sad fallings-off since the year 1723!

I cannot resist making one or two other extracts, showing the general character of this curious little journal of the Rev. Thomas Parkinson:—

“FEBRUARY, 1722.

“1. Went to Street to visit Mrs. Salome, and administered the sacrament to her. She is 103 years old, yet very perfect in memory, sight, and hearing to admiration.

“APRIL, 1723.

“30. Studied hard yesterday in the afternoon and this morning, and finished the 103rd sermon. At night I preached it for T. Raby, of Tarnaker, at St. Michael’s. His son paid me 10s. Mr. Crombleholm, the vicar there, came from London whilst I was there, who, in conjunction with three more, had bought Rawcliff Demain and Tenants, paying to the Board £11,260. It cost them near £1000 more in hush-money, as they call it.

“OCTOBER, 1723.

“18. In the morning I went to visit William Grayston, who seemed very penitent after an ill-spent life. I pray GOD forgive him.

“OCTOBER, 1723.

“28. In the morning I went to see W. Grayston, who had been perverted by a Romish priest in his sickness, but, by the blessing of GOD, I restored him to the Church, and administered the communion to him after he had begged pardon. He gave me then £1. 18s. 6d. to distribute, in way of restitution, to some he had unjustly injured.

“Nov. 2. Studied all the morning, and finished the 110th. Afternoon: I went to see W. Grayston and old Mrs. Salome.”

P.S. I ought to add that the number of attendants at the communion, above stated, was by no means unusual; for besides the communicants being, on ordinary Sundays, at least one hundred, I find the following entries in his next year’s Diary:—

“APRIL, 1724.

“3. _Good Friday_. I preached. Mr. Hayward, [who seems always to have attended on these occasions,] read prayers, and consecrated. We had a vast number of communicants, more than have been usually seen.

“4. Mr. Hayward read prayers. I went into the parish to visit sick and impotent people; that is, such as cou’d not come to church.

“5. _Easter-day_. I preached in the forenoon. Mr. Hayward read prayers, and consecrated. We had a great many communicants at those three days of sacrament. [Palm Sunday was one.] At church we had about 656 communicants, and I administered to about 60 impotent people in the parish. I read prayers afternoon, and Mr. Hayward preached.”

{xii} The following is Mr. Newton’s own account of the state of his late parish in the hands of his successor, and that successor such a man as Mr. Scott. The narrative is a melancholy one.

“I was very cordially received at Olney; the heats and animosities which prevailed when I was there last, seemed in a great measure subsided. There are, however, many who have left the Church, and hear among the Dissenters; but I hope they have not left the LORD. Mr. Scott has some, and some of the best, who are affectionately attached to him. Mr. Scott is a good and upright man, and a good preacher, but different ministers have different ways. He met with great prejudices, and some very improper treatment, upon his first coming to Olney. He found several professors who had more leaves than fruit, more talk than grace; his spirit was rather hurt by what he saw amiss, and by what he felt. By what I can learn from those who love him best, he is very favourable and zealous in reproving what is wrong; but an unfavourable impression he has received, that the people at large do not like him, gives a sort of edge to his preaching which is not so well suited to conciliate them. The best of the Olney people are an afflicted people, and have been led through great inward conflicts and spiritual distresses, and for want of some experience of the like kind, he cannot so well hit their cases,nor sympathize with them so tenderly as might be wished. He has the best intentions, but his natural temper is rather positive, than gentle and yielding. I was, perhaps, faulty in the other extreme; but they had been so long used to me, that a different mode of treatment does not so well suit them.”—_Southey’s Life of Cowper_, vol. ii. p. 46.

Here the different success of the two consecutive incumbents is made to turn entirely upon preaching, and that preaching entirely on difference of _temper_. Would that they had both sought uniformity of preaching, and of temper too, in their Prayer Book!

{xxxix} Mr. Walker’s charity being of that kind which “seeketh not her own,” he would rather forego his rights than distrain for dues which the parties liable refused to pay as a point of conscience.

{52} An “Old Man” is a heap of stones, of which many are erected on the highest points of the loftiest mountains in the North of England.

{78} Pearls are or used to be found in the shell-fish in the river IRT, on the west coast of Cumberland. It is much to be feared that there are very few now left.

{85} There is a tradition that this is one of the families which claim to wear a hat in the presence of Royalty.

{89} The Packington family.

{91} The history of Martha will remind some readers (though the facts are very different) of that of Mary Robinson, commonly called “The Beauty of Buttermere,” who was betrayed into a marriage by the notorious Hadfield, under the feigned name of Colonel Hope. Hadfield was a man of good birth and education, and was afterwards hanged for forgery. Mary died not long since, the mother of a large family, in a good old age, a subject of notoriety and curiosity to her dying day. Yet Robert Walker loved his dead Martha _quite_ as much as his living Mary!