Interesting Incidents Connected With the Life of George Bickers / Originally a Farmer's Parish Apprentice at Laxfield, in Suffolk, but Now Residing in Oulton
Date: 2020-05-08T00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Bickers; George; Clergy -- England -- Suffolk -- Biography

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Title: Interesting Incidents Connected With the Life of George Bickers

Author: George Bickers

Release date: May 8, 2020 [eBook #62060]

Language: English

Credits: Transcribed from the 1882 G. S. Cook edition by David Price

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INTERESTING INCIDENTS CONNECTED WITH THE LIFE OF GEORGE BICKERS ***

Transcribed from the 1882 G. S. Cook edition by David Price, email ccx074@pgaf.org

Spes tutissima Cælis.

Interesting Incidents
Connected with the Life of
GEORGE BICKERS,

Originally a Farmer’s Parish Apprentice at
Laxfield, in Suffolk, but now

RESIDING IN OULTON,

In the same County,
Being an
AUTOBIOGRAPHY
Of the above,
From 1809 to 1881,
Inclusive.

All Rights of Re-production reserved

Lowestoft:
G. S. Cook, Nelson Printing Works.

The writer of these pages was born at Laxfield, a village in the County of Suffolk, on the 16th day of January, 1809, the forty-eighth year of our good King George the Third’s happy reign.  That eventful day was to me the commencement of a long and sometimes tedious journey: oftimes I have had to encounter great perils and dangers, but out of all the Lord hath delivered me.

That eventful day witnessed the closing career of a great British General, Sir John Moore, at Corunna, a seaport of Spain, whither he had gone to take the command of the English forces, in order, if possible, to relieve that unhappy country, then being sorely harassed by the armies of Napoleon I., under the command of the Duke of Dalmatia (Marshall Soult), but the campaign proved a failure, resulting in the death of the Commander-in-Chief, and the re-embarkation of the troops, with a loss of about eight hundred of our countrymen, Soult being more than a match for the valour of British arms on that memorable and trying occasion.  But France was destined to be humbled, and six years later on, Napoleon and his generals felt the weight of British prowess at Waterloo.

I was the second son of my parents, Benjamin and Charlotte, poor, but industrious people, my father being an agricultural labourer: and, having but a slender income, yet felt a wish their children should acquire a little education, which might prove useful to them in their future stations in life under which they might be called.

When about four years of age, while one day playing in the road with other children, near my father’s cottage, there happened to be a horse, belonging to a miller of the name of Heffer, quietly feeding.  Being then (as since) very forward in mischief, I threw my cap at the quiet creature, and then must needs go too near its heels to pick it up; the sad consequence was I was kicked on the head, and my right eye nearly perished, but, under the skilful treatment of Mr. Alling, a surgeon in the village, my eyesight was preserved, and, although I am writing more than sixty years later on, yet the scar still remains, and also the seam in the bone is still perceptible.  But what of the poor horse?  He came to grief very soon after, as one day being loose in the stable, and the master, going in to take him some food, omitted to shut the door, the horse ran out, and, before the man could recover him, he was struck by one of the sails of the windmill, and was killed thereby.  This accident reminded the owner of that dangerous machine that it would be much better to raise it higher, which was soon after accomplished.  And, perhaps, I may be permitted to observe that, by the kind care of a watchful and loving Jehovah, my life was preserved; and, in looking back, can praise the Lord for His goodness, and for the care extended unto me at this, the beginning of my journey of a long life.

The time had now arrived when school must be attended, and my first schoolmaster was Mr. Benjamin Chenery, at that time clerk and sexton of the parish, and was no ways sparing of the heads and backs of his pupils, but we hope, on the whole, he followed a rightful course, for he had in his vocation many grave and solemn duties to perform, both as to the interment of the aged, as also the education and training of the young.

Under the care and tuition of Benjamin, I first learned to read, to write upon a slate, and do little sums, after having mastered the figures.  Easy spelling also came on, as a matter of course; and there was no lack of errands to perform, as well for the mistress as the master, and I occasionally assisted in sweeping up the church, the chancel being occupied as a schoolroom during the summer season, when fire was not needed, as the master was not usually at a loss to supply a warming.

The churchyard, too spacious as it was, proved a most excellent playground; there were plain spaces for marbles and tops, piers and buttresses for hide-and-seek; graves, and stones, and tombs, to jump over and jump from, without any restriction, and readily did we unite in these healthful exercises, however dangerous or mischievous they might be in other respects.

There was another school near, kept by Mr. John Goodwin; the pupils were more advanced, some being farmers’ sons.  That being a free school, yet the master was allowed to take private pupils.  Females, also, were instructed, having a room to themselves opposite the master’s desk, called the “Ladies’ Room.”  The boys at those schools were not allowed to play together, the smaller ones possessing the protection of the sacred enclosure, which was at the larger ones’ peril to invade.  We could see them at their play, as we looked through the openings of the gate; and there was sometimes displayed a germ of hostility among the youthful students.

In attending this school I was taught to read, and also easy spelling, as before observed; then came little sums in addition, subtraction, and multiplication.  I soon became able to read in class; we daily read the Psalms from the book of Common Prayer.  We did not have bible reading at this school, as many families at that time did not possess the sacred volume, my parents being among that number; but our immediate neighbours were in possession of a bible, and were always willing to lend it to my parents of an evening, and the owners, being aged people, would often invite me to stand and read to them from their bible, of Adam and Eve, of Noah, of Abraham, and Lot, of Isaac and Jacob, and also that remarkable narrative of Joseph and his brethren.  These exercises were to me helps in the right direction.  My master found I was getting on, and set me to read to him pieces from history, principally from Goldsmith’s “Vicar of Wakefield.”  The closing paragraph of the 7th chapter I will here insert, because, although more than sixty years have rolled away, yet I well remember the concluding sentences.  Here is a sample:—

“My wife now kept up the conversation, though not the argument.  She observed that several prudent men of our acquaintance were freethinkers, and made very good husbands.  And she knew some sensible girls that had skill enough to make converts of their spouses.  ‘And who knows, my dear,’ continued she, ‘what Olivia may be able to do?  The girl has a great deal to say upon every subject, and to my knowledge is very skilled in controversy.’  ‘Why, my dear, what controversy can she have read?’ cried I.  ‘It does not occur to me that I have ever put such books into her hands; you certainly overrate her merit.’  ‘Indeed, papa,’ replied Olivia, ‘she does not.  I have read a great deal of controversy.  I have the disputes between Thwackum and Square, the controversy between Robinson Crusoe and Friday, the savage, and I am now employed in reading the controversy in ‘Religious Courtship.’’  ‘Very well,’ I cried I, ‘that’s a good girl; I find you are perfectly qualified for making converts, and so go help your mother to make the gooseberry-pie.’”

And the master added, “you shall have a piece on’t, mister, when it be enough.”  I had wondered a hundred times in what book the above passage could be found.  At length the discovery was made, and now the concluding portion of the 17th chapter, together with the verses—six of them—have passed through my mind, in the absence of something better, a great many times:—

“‘It was within about four days of her (Olivia’s) intended nuptials that my little family, at night, were gathered around a charming fire, telling stories of the past, and laying schemes for the future, busied in forming a thousand projects, and laughing at whatever folly came uppermost.’  ‘Well, Moses, my boy, we shall soon have a wedding in our family; what is your opinion of matters and things in general?’  ‘My opinion is, father, that all things go on very well, and I was just now thinking that when sister Livy is married to Farmer Williams, we shall then have the loan of his cider-press and brewing tubs for nothing.’  ‘That we shall, Moses,’ cried I, ‘and he will sing us ‘Death and the Lady’ to raise our spirits into the bargain.’  ‘He has taught that song to our Dick,’ cried Moses, ‘and I think he goes through it very prettily.’  ‘Does he so?’ cried I, ‘then let’s have it.  Where is little Dick?  Let him up with it boldly.’  ‘My brother Dick,’ cried Bill, my youngest, ‘is just gone out with sister Livy, but Mr. Williams has taught me two songs, and I’ll sing them for you, papa.  Which song do you choose, ‘The Dying Swan,’ or ‘The Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog?’  ‘The elegy, child, by all means,’ said I.  ‘I never heard that yet, and Deborah, my life, grief you know is dry; let us have a bottle of the best gooseberry wine to keep up our spirits.  I have wept so much at all sorts of late that, without an enlivening glass, I am sure this would overcome me, and Sophy, love, take your guitar, and thrum in with the boy a little.”

This is then the sample of the taste of a master store the mind of a young scholar; but we must have the “Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog:”

THE ELEGY, ETC.

Good people all, of every sort, give ear unto my song,
And if you find it won’drous short, it cannot hold you long.
In Islington there was a man, of whom the world might say
That still a godly race he ran whene’er he went to pray.

A kind and gentle heart he had, to comfort friend and foe,
The naked every day he clad, when he put on his clothes;
And in that town a dog was found, as dogs there many be,
Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, and curs of low degree.

This dog and man at first were friends, but when a pique began,
The dog, to gain some private ends, went mad and bit the man;
Around, from all the neighbo’ring streets, the wond’ring neighbours ran,
And swore the dog had lost his wits to bite so good a man.

The wound it seemed both sore and sad to every Christian eye,
And while they said the dog was mad, they said the man would die;
But soon a wonder came to light, that showed the rogues they lied,
The man recovered of the bite—the dog it was that died.

The master did not attempt to enlighten me.  At the close of the elegy, he merely observed as approval, “Oh, the dog died, did he, mister?”  But no doubt Oliver Goldsmith could see something underlying its surface, as there were then political dogs in Islington, whose virulent bites were very painful; surely also, are there to be found elsewhere in our day.

My neighbours were farmers on a small scale: they had a son to whom I was much attached.  They kept several cows, and a horse named Depper.  She was a useful creature, having carried me many miles.  I could spend many half-days with Depper, instead of being at school, and I believe those in charge liked my company, so that the time passed away.  I had often little jobs to perform for the old people which sometimes brought me a meal of good food; at other times a good farmer’s cake, which was always a luxury; and I had charge of the cows when they were fed in the lanes and roads.  This brought a few pence to my parents, so much needed in those days of low wages—about eight or nine shillings per week when labourers made full time.

It would have been a curious sight in our day, as then, to see the old couple mounted upon Depper’s back, when they were going out to see friends.  A light cart was a scarce article in those days with small occupiers (my neighbours had only a tumbril as a carriage); an appliance called a pillion was fastened upon the rump of the horse, and secured to the saddle, the greatest difficulty being to mount and dismount; but that difficulty was overcome.

I have not yet done with my old friend Benjamin; perhaps he did not trouble about my being absent for a week or two, if I did not return a bigger dunce.  He usually had some of that class to try his patience.  He appointed me many jobs, more to my mind than studying in the school.  The town clock required to be wound up, the dial of which was at an elevation of about fifty feet, adorning the south side of the old tower, with its four neat pinnacles.  I was appointed often to wind up the weights of that clock: the larger weight requiring the power of two boys, with a crank as large as a grindstone.  Then, again, at funerals, the master would set me to toll the church bell, the rope being so fixed upon its tongue that an easy jerk would cause it to strike against the bell’s side, instructions being given that when the procession arrived, and at a signal from the master, ten strokes were to be given in quick succession, and then immediately to cease.  Then, again, after the funeral service was over, the grave had to be filled in by willing hands, which was after a time accomplished, the implements being afterwards stowed away, and thus ended the school service of another day.

Four schoolboys were usually selected to convey the funeral bier to the late residence of the deceased, sometimes half-a-mile or more distant.  Regardless of the solemnity of the occasion, we enjoyed the outing, and were not in a very great hurry to return to our studies; and perhaps the master did not trouble that we should, for I do not remember to have heard him express much sorrow or inconvenience respecting the absentees.

I continued to attend Benjamin’s school until I was about ten years of age; at that time my parents thought they would like me to attend the larger school, that my education might be forwarded thereby.  I learnt the inscription on the fly-leaf of master’s book, which I had often read through.  I could not remember the title.  The lines were these:

Whose book I am, if you wish to know,
By letters two I will you show;
The first is B, to all men’s sight,
The next is C, to spell it right;
But if you chance to spell amiss,
Look underneath, and here it is:

Benjamin Chenery.

Farewell! to my first schoolmaster, and gooseberry-pie book.

It was not very long before a vacancy occurred in the larger school, and I was elected to fill up the gap.  I felt somewhat timid, but that soon wore off.  I was placed at a desk with others, and had soon to go in for sums in earnest.  All had to be worked out on a slate, and, when passed as correct, had to be set down in a book.  This was our morning work; afternoon we had Bible-reading in class, spelling, and afterwards writing with ink in copy book.  There was a very patient usher of the name of George Bilney; but he was not there long after I joined the school.  The discipline here was more stringent; each free scholar had to wear a badge of distinction, a school cap, to be worn every Sunday, and to be present at church, two seats being set apart for the boys of this school, under the supervision of the master and his usher; and all absentees had to give a satisfactory account on Monday mornings of the why’s and the wherefore’s, or feel the weight of the cane in the master’s hand, however distasteful it might be.

At this school I made progress; we were allowed to use “Walkingame’s Tutor’s Assistant;” a great deal could be learnt from this useful work.  Said tables on Fridays, and also Church Catechism, with hard and difficult spelling at the close thereof, and the first three boys were rewarded with a ticket each.  Often heavy tasks were awarded for disobedience, and, altogether, the general routine was one of forced vigilance, obedience, and activity, as no trifling was permitted during school hours.

After a few months my being in this school, Mr. Bilney, the usher left, and his place was subsequently filled by Mr. Benjamin Moulton, who afterwards followed the occupation of an auctioneer and valuer, at Woodbridge, in this county.  I wrote to that gentleman in 1878, enquiring if he was the same B. M. whom I had previously known at Mr. Goodwin’s school.  He returned an answer, thanking me for the enquiry, that he was the same; that he was now about seventy years of age; that his health was fair; and that there was at least one of the old scholars who had thought about him; but said, also, he never much liked the situation, so he did not much regret leaving the village and its associations.

I attended at this school about one year and a half.  There were a better class of pupils (farmer’s sons) on the Opposition benches, who were instructed in the higher rudiments, such as land surveying, mapping, printing, English grammar.  “English Reader,” “Introduction,” and “Speaker” were books not prohibited to the free boys, and, for one, I was very fond of reading them at every opportunity, for we had the range of the school from twelve o’clock till two, when all could play outside in fine weather very comfortably together, regardless of station in life, as two in the same school were my future young masters.

I continued to improve in the acquisition of knowledge, as there taught, from Multiplication of Integers to Money, and so on, as in subsequent rules; Division short and long, Reduction, Practice, and “Rule of Three,” all requiring close attention to bring a “Good” mark, implying the approval of the master or usher before any sum was allowed to be entered in the book, and even that was a tedious operation.  There must be no mistakes, no blots, nor any smearing on the surface; when the master came round, the cane accompanied him, and sad woes were inflicted on the careless, which were not soon forgotten.

But it came to be desired that I should begin to work more closely, and earn my support, for most likely it was thought that a little help in that direction was, no doubt, very needful, and being a final decision, I left the school in that eventful year, 1820, and forthwith I soon found my destiny was “buckle to work.”  I have said “eventful” year, in proof whereof here is an extract from the Evangelical Magazine of that year:—“George III. died at Windsor Castle, on the 29th January, 1820 in his 82nd year.  His son, the Duke of Kent, expired a few days previous, at Sidmouth, in Devonshire, in the 53rd year of his age, leaving an infant daughter—our good and virtuous Queen.”  Long may she reign.

The way is now apparently open for the Prince Regent to occupy the throne, but the perplexing domestic troubles occupied the lawyers and barristers more than twelve months ere the ground could be anything like cleared; but the road in which I was destined to travel was not so mystified.  A master was found for me, in the person of Mr. Simon Smyth, of Ubbeston, farmer.  I was employed in hoeing, weeding corn, picking grass, and such-like jobs.  I was there ten weeks, or about half that summer, and more happy was I than the Prince Regent.  My next master was Mr. Robert Scace, of Laxfield, farmer, and was employed, first keeping sheep, then working in the hay field, and other odd jobs which might present themselves to my notice.  I got on nicely with Mr. Scace, and after the hay season was told that I might continue on, and board in the house during the harvest, and have the same amount of money weekly.  I was glad to hear that, and never found it a source of regret to anyone.  Those were cheerful seasons to both men and boys, and for my own part I felt that I was advanced to a post of honour when entrusted with the commands of a horse or two, and was no longer compelled to go about the fields gleaning, which occupation I so much disliked.  There was but one son in this family, but he had to work in harvest-time, and bend down with the sickle, as with that instrument the wheat-crop was reaped in those days, and it was my lot to assist Master Robert, when he sought a little rest.  He was a little older than myself, being born in 1806.  He lived near my parents’ dwelling, and I was often allowed to play with him before we began to work.  His was but a short course.  I have since read in Laxfield Churchyard, near the porch, upon a stone, this inscription:

Robert Bullock Scace,
Born September 17th, 1806;
Died March 30th, 1853.

How quickly the four dozen years passed away!

The joyful harvest being completed, it was arranged that I should be further detained to keep pigs and other stock in the fields from off which the corn had been taken.  This employment I was engaged in for several weeks, being always supplied with a good dinner on each Sunday, sent to the field from the farmer’s table, which was very much enjoyed and welcomed, these and such-like comforts which came to me on the Day of Rest.

I know not how long I might have continued here, but Michaelmas drew on, and it was agreed that I should go into service, at a farm-house in the parish.  This did not give to me at first a very favourable impression, but undoubtedly it was the right way into a “city of habitation.”  Thenceforth, on the 11th day of October, 1820.  I was received into the family of Mr. John Garrard, of Laxfield, to be trained and disciplined as a veritable farmer’s boy, and held myself ready to obey any instructions and orders that might be presented.  My training commenced, I did not at all dislike my new acquaintances, and after a few days felt quite at home in my new position.  There was plenty of work, plenty of food, and a goodly supply of company.

The family consisted of the master, mistress, four sons, and five daughters.  There were also a man-servant, a maid servant, and myself.  Later on there came into the family a nephew, who was called Jonathan, and frequently the master called him “Jonter.”  His father was brother to the master, and having died April 22nd, 1811, aged 29 years, left him and a sister to the frowns of an ungodly world, as also to the care of their mother, who removed from Laxfield, to a place called Hartley Row, in the county of Hants, there to revive old associations or to form new ones, and in those engagements it did seem Jonathan could be spared from his mother, then being about sixteen years of age when he came to live with his uncle.

As regards myself, my business was to do what every one of the others left undone, and bear the blame for all; but was so far favoured, there was a standing rule that no stripes were to be administered but by the hands of the master, so that, on the whole, amongst bulls and cows, pigs and sows, children and chickens, and other bipeds, and quadrupeds, I was not very lonely, and sometimes felt, after having to endure some pain and privation, occasioned by the terrible sharp wintry storms that prevailed, I could go on my way rejoicing.

Things went on, as far as I could observe, pretty easy.  The establishment was a hive of industry; all that were able must work, and good it was for us to be superintended by a good and careful master and mistress.  About this time, the eldest son, John, was married, and left us.  The second son, George, was bound apprentice to Mr. Kent, of Beetles, a brazier and tin-plate worker.  The maid-servant was discharged at the next coming Michaelmas, and I had to learn to milk the cows, and carry the milk into the dairy, and empty it into the places assigned for its reception.  Two of the daughters, Emma and Caroline, were now requested to assist their mother in the duties of the house, while the three youngest daughters and youngest son, Jesse, were continued at school, so being prepared to occupy the vacant places when the elder ones left.

But we must have a word or two respecting the new king, George IV.  He had been so proclaimed in London and the provinces, but by reason of unhappy differences subsisting between the king and his royal consort, a fixed aversion and a formal separation had taken place.  He had ordered her name to be struck off the Liturgy when Princess of Wales!

It was said she had raised a favourite Italian, in her employ, from an humble station, to one of honour; had instituted a new order of knighthood called the Order of St. Caroline; had decorated this person with the insignia of that order, and had in other respects acted in a manner unbecoming a British princess, which brought upon her the continued displeasure of the king.  He ordered evidence to be taken against her, and it was determined she should be brought to trial by the peers of the realm.  This trial, which lasted fifty-three days, being ended, violent debates took place in the House of Lords on the principle of the Bill, and the proposed measure of depriving the queen, of her title, prerogatives, rights, and privileges, formally abandoned.  This was hailed as a complete acquittal by her friends, and was celebrated as such by public rejoicings and illuminations, reaching my parish.

But the King’s anger was not appeased.  The 19th day of July, 1821, was the day fixed for the coronation service.  It was said to have been a magnificent ceremony, surpassing anything that had ever occurred on former occasions.  But the queen, who had repeatedly applied to have a place appointed for her to see the ceremony, on going to the Abbey was refused admittance by the door-keepers, they not daring to let anyone pass who had not a coronation ticket.  Thus mortified and humbled, she returned to her house, and the impression it made on her mind was never eradicated.  Harassed by severe and bitter trials, she was seized with a sudden illness, which baffled the skill of her physicians, and on the 7th August she breathed her last, being in the fifty-fourth year of her age, her body being conveyed to Brunswick, and deposited in the vault of her ancestors.

But, perhaps, the narration of those circumstances would seem to be a digression, yet they are to my mind full of interest, and so closely interwoven among my early associations that I cannot easily pass over them.  I well remember the exhibition which took place in my native village.  On one of the large painted pictures was displayed a figure of the queen in her robes, and beneath was the brilliant motto,

“Regina” still, in spite of them,
Here then we rest.  The universal cause
Acts to one end, but acts by various laws;
Let this great truth be present night and day,
But most be present if we preach or pray.

Pope’s Essay on Man.

There was nearly as much for me to do on a Sunday, during the winter season, as on other days; the cattle must be fed; turnips within, and straw without, must be placed ready for the cows to eat, and the fat pigs were to be attended to, of which there was a good number, but sometimes I had an opportunity of going to chapel, on an afternoon, when my work was forward; and there were reading services in the family on Sunday evenings, implying there was a desire to serve and obey the true and living God.

Thus much for a beginning.  I soon learned to drive the tumbril, the harrow, the roller, and the wagon, and was, perhaps, nearly as useful as was expected to be; and on one occasion the master made me draw a furrow across a field with a pair of horses, he following, and pronounced himself satisfied with the result.

During my sojourn here, I was several times mercifully preserved from death.  On one occasion I was driving a loaded tumbril from the yard, where it was filled, to the manure heap, about a quarter-of-a mile on the road, and then on to the meadow.  A horse which I was using, a wild young creature, annoyed by the flies, started off as soon as I got upon his back.  I was quite powerless, and lost all control over him.  He went at full gallop straight home, and though a cart shed, that was standing by the road-side, having beams across, and so constructed that there was little height more than was required for an empty wagon.  I pressed my head down as low as I could, and the interposing mercy of my God preserved me, or I should have been dashed to pieces.  The horse ran quite through, and then stopped as if by magic.  The men came out of the yard, seeing the danger, and expected to have seen me killed, or seriously injured; but neither myself nor the horse suffered any harm.  I did not think much about it at the time, but I have many times looked back with a thankful heart.—“Thou shalt remember all the way the Lord thy God hath led thee.”

Another instance of great danger I will relate.  One summer’s morning, being ordered to fetch the cows from the meadow, amongst them being a furious bull, I found on my arrival that one of the cows had calved during the night, close to which the dangerous male had taken up a position.  I hastened home with the rest, and told the master what I had seen.  It was considered that if I had attempted to drive him he might have killed me.  The master directed me to take the barrow, and he would go with me to the meadow, and take with him a hay-fork.  We went and found them as I have stated, and no sooner had I placed the barrow near the bull than the infuriated creature at once drove at me, and knocked me down, but the master beat him off, and I was thus preserved from further danger at that time, and escaped unharmed.

At another time, later on, the same beast attacked me in the cow-yard, drove me against the faggots, and had got me completely in his power.  My peril was witnessed by Josh Miles, who was thrashing in a barn.  He came with his flail—a very formidable instrument—and the beast fled immediately, and leaped over a high gate like a hunting horse, and then looked about him for the next point of attack.  These, then, are some of the deliverances extended unto me by the great and unceasing favour of my God, for the which I desire to be devoutly thankful.

I am unable to enumerate all the dangers from which I have been providentially delivered.  That same horse which ran away with me kicked me afterwards in the side, but my hand caught the blow, and thus warded off serious injury.  I was accustomed to have one-footed kicks from the cows, but found the horse struck out with more effect.  Another peril was: As myself and one of my young masters (Suffolk) were scarifying a pea-stubble field we had two horses at length, and took turns, one to ride on the scarifier, and the other to drive the horses.  We were going on very cheerful and comfortable, when, suddenly, something distasted the fore horse, and it came round to where I was sitting, and was entangled among the counters with the horse’s feet.  In the fright and the danger we had some little difficulty to extricate the poor horse, but we did accomplish it.  I escaped with a few slight scratches on my hands and legs, and what was better the horse was not much hurt, so that ultimately we were able to accomplish our work, and to give an account of our mishap to the master, without incurring much blame.  Here, again, I feel good cause for thankfulness that I was so mercifully preserved, so that—

“I muse on the years that are past,
Wherein my defence Thou hast proved,
Nor wilt Thou relinquish at last
A sinner so signally lov’d.”—Toplady.

I might here be permitted to state my master, Mr. Garrard, at this time, occupied a small farm in the parish of Stradbroke, distant about three miles, to which myself and others were often sent, to do different kinds of work, such as putting in the corn with the drill, sometimes getting in a good lot of turnips, at other times getting up the hay and the corn in harvest, when we had a wagon to be conveyed through the pleasant journey.  Adjoining our farm was one occupied by Mr. William Davey, and he also kept a lad a year or two older than myself.  He felt himself sometimes aggrieved, because he had so much to do in waiting upon his young masters, so he thought he would cut the matter short, and, being sorely irritated, he got up early one morning (oh! most dreadful act) and set fire to the straw in the barn, which burnt and consumed the whole premises, except the dwelling-house—an alarming conflagration; I saw it blazing.  He was taken upon suspicion, tried, and found guilty, and sentenced to be executed, which sentence was carried into effect at Ipswich, on the 20th April, 1822.  A terrible example to all young men was the death of William Aldous, late of Stradbroke.

Having passed through the various degrees of training incident to a farming establishment, including the diversified labours of the season of harvest, for my master boarded his men, and in some instances lodged them as well; and the harvests were in those days somewhat cheerful and happy seasons.  “Crowned with the sickle and the wheaten sheaf,” the ingathering was equal to the demand of the coming winter, however severe and rigid that season might be.

My master usually kept a man at his off-farm, but during my last two years of service with him he placed me in that position.  The farm-house was occupied by Samuel Tovell and John Pulham.  I lodged with the former, and fetched my food from master’s house, being allowed to take a horse, of which I had two under my care, as also several bullocks and pigs.  I used to go to master’s house, and have Sunday dinner, and one evening during the week regularly.

I received no money for my work, my remuneration was board, lodging, washing, and clothes.  My master trusted to me to obey his orders, spoke well of me, and I was encouraged by the designation of steward.  I was promised that, if I was willing, I should be put to a business, which would be better than being at a farm-house.  As time rolled on, a neighbouring farmer, a friend of my master (Mr. Lenny), removed from out of the parish to Worlingham, and that gentleman was requested to look out for something for me.  He was successful, and it was arranged that I should be placed under the care of Mr. George Sutton, a shoemaker, of that parish.

My parents consented, and arrangements being completed, I was told to prepare for my new destination.  Accordingly, I bade farewell to my old neighbours and friends at Stradbroke and Laxfield, and in the month of May, 1825, I started with George Pead, the carrier, to Halesworth, to meet my new master, and thence to continue my journey to Worlingham, my future residence.

The day was fine, the country looking cheerful after the storms of winter, and our journey was accomplished in due course safely.  I had now time to look around and reflect on my change.  I did not feel very joyful at my new prospects; I felt that I was a “stranger in a strange land;” I thought of old associations, and that did not add to my comfort.  However, amidst many discouragements, I thought that if I could learn my business, I could settle down in after life, and be able to obtain employment, and support those who might be in some measure dependent on me.

My master was held to be a good tradesman, and appeared to have a good run of trade; but I soon found he indulged in habits of drinking to excess.  There was no veneration for the Sabbath, and consequently no reverence for God’s commands.  He also indulged in profane conversation, such as I had not hitherto been accustomed to; but I prayed for him.

My mistress was a tender-hearted, godly, pious woman, and would often speak kindly to me when master was harsh, so that my sorrows were not greatly multiplied.  Mr. Lenny came to see me at my new place (I had known that gentleman when he resided at Laxfield); he harassed my feelings; brought before my mind old associations, from whom I was severed.  I felt completely broken down.  I have no doubt that was the end he had in view.  He afterwards tendered a few healing words of sympathy and kindness, and said that he would write to Laxfield, and let my friends there know how I was getting on, and that, if I continued with my master, and was obliging, he would give me a Christmas-box.  After hearing these and other promises, I resigned myself to my new situation, and felt that I would do my best, and try to learn to work.

After having been there a month, it was arranged that I should be bound, Mr. L. being sponsor.  An indenture was prepared, and my own consent, and that of my parents, being obtained, I was bound as an indoor apprentice, to learn the art and mystery of a bootmaker, for the space of four years, thirty-one weeks, and four days.

This seemed a long time to look forward, but I was beginning to feel more reconciled.  I visited the customers with the master; had a good share of jobs to attend to, as well as errands, the diversity of waiting upon the master, the mistress, the children, the cow, the pony, and the pigs, and my odd hours were to be spent in the work shop, in learning to stitch pieces of leather together.

This latter was, to say the least of it, a tedious operation; I suffered pain in my neck and back, but I had a fair amount of relaxation, and during the whole of that summer I was not bound down very closely to the trade, and had become somewhat acquainted with the young people of that locality, by which I was cheered.

One of my acquaintances was a young man, apprenticed to William Pidgeon, named John Scarlett.  That young man was a vessel of mercy, soon to be gathered home to the heavenly garner.  He was my guide, philosopher, and friend.  “We took sweet counsel together, and walked to the House of God” in company.  He sought, and obtained, instruction from the best source, and in turn I myself received much valuable instruction from him.

The first Christmas arrived.  During my apprenticeship I was permitted to go to Laxfield, and see my parents.  I had not forgotten the promise as to the Christmas-box, so I called on Mr. Lenny, and reminded him of what I had not forgotten at this happy season.  I was invited to sit down to table with his people, and have a bowl of good firmity.  While I was enjoying the comfortable meal, Mr. L. came into the room, and asked me if I thought I could ride a pony to Laxfield.  I was happy to answer in the affirmative.  Orders were given, the pony was brought out, and doubly glad was I to go and see my parents, and also to be furnished with a horse to ride; but I was to leave it with Mr. Alling, the gentleman who had been successful in preserving my eyesight, as before stated.

I delivered up my charge, with a letter of instructions from the sender.  I knew that Mr. Lenny’s eldest son was living with Mr. Alling, and most likely the pony was for his son’s use.  However, I had performed my engagement safely.  My short Christmas holiday soon came to an end, and, taking leave of my parents, I was now, for the first time, on foot, to measure the whole length of that dreary road that intervened between the past and the future—the past I was somewhat acquainted with, but as to the future, I wondered and pondered, and sped my way onward, sometimes with tardy steps and a heavy heart, but during the evening of that short winter’s day I arrived home.

I was under a promise to write to my parents, and inform them if I was once more safe at home.  The postage was high at that time, being eightpence for each letter.  We had not as yet felt the benefit of Rowland Hill’s cheap postage, although we had the benefit of “Rowland Hill’s Village Dialogues”—these are good and profitable.

I passed through my first winter pretty comfortable, now and then being sent out with the pony, and sometimes with the cart, which pleased me very well, as I so enjoyed a trip.

One morning I was called up rather early to fetch some milk for the family, for the cow was not always in profit.  As soon as I had put on my boots, and had opened the door, I fell down perfectly insensible and unconscious.  My master and mistress were on the room above.  They thought I was gone out, but when they found I was not, they soon came to see.  They were greatly alarmed thinking it might occur frequently; and I thought how easily my Father and my God could have removed me from this troublesome world.  But thanks to His great goodness and mercy, I never remember to have had a recurrence of that solemn visitation.  It brought me to consider my state by nature, as a sinner before God; and I expressed gratitude and thankfulness that my life was still preserved.

Thenceforth, I resolved to seek the Lord, feeling that it was my bounden duty to serve Him, and I prayed for direction in this important matter.  My young friend, Scarlett, of whom I have spoken, was permitted to attend the Wesleyan Chapel, at North Cove, and myself was also allowed to join him, and we felt it a privilege to listen to the truths as there taught.  We felt that the Most High was the Father of Mercies, imparted to us, his creatures, through the atonement of Christ for the remission of sins.  My friend’s views were Calvanistic; mine were not so, and we were prompted and exhorted to search the Scriptures.  We did search, comparing spiritual things with spiritual help from above.

About this time, one of the members of the chapel (Mrs. Keer), of Mutford, was removed by death, and a funeral sermon was preached in North Cove Chapel, from the words: “Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his.”  We had then placed before us the characteristics of a christian, or a believer, seeking salvation through the merits of the Great Redeemer, and as obedient children looking and praying and watching to the end of our course, amidst the temptations and impediments that bestrew our pathway here below.  These timely observations and other christian duties were insisted on by Mr. Gibson, the good minister, the burden of which we treasured up in our young minds, and in the case of my friend I have no doubt produced good fruit unto eternal life, for his was destined to be but a short journey to the Celestial City.

Mr. Pidgeon kept a cow, as did my master, and we sometimes had to drive them to marsh in the summer season—about a mile.  We almost always had to go on Sundays, and then we could talk over our religious impressions and other matters.  As he had a pious mother, who prayed for him, consequently he was a beloved partaker of the benefit, and he did appreciate it as a brother beloved, elected of God.

’Tis well with the righteous, God views them as such,
They go to their Father, and can’t ask too much;
In Christ, they are righteous, and who dare bring a charge?
The blood of atonement hath signed their discharge.

One Sunday morning, having gone down with our masters’ cows, and placed them at their food, we had a little leisure to think, and to talk over the goodness of God to us, his creatures.  Coming to an alder tree, fresh and green, my companion stopped, and—taking off his cap said: “Here we must have a little bit of prayer.”  Those were the words.  I was taken somewhat by surprise.  We both knelt—the grass was our carpet; John led off in earnest, solemn, heartfelt prayer, possessing the true spirit of devotion—heard, and witnessed, and accepted in the heavenly courts above, indicating an earnest of the promised possession of the heavenly inheritance.  I feel something of the rekindling of God’s love while I am recording this interesting incident.  When he had concluded I felt also prompted to make the attempt, in compliance with his request, but my sentences were feeble and broken, the very first that were ever heard in prayer by a fellow-creature.

We often resorted thither for prayer subsequently, and often felt it to be a time of refreshing from the presence of the Lord.  Once, on a Beccles horse-racing occasion, we repaired thither, and prayed for the giddy multitude, as also for our friends and acquaintances.  There was another young man, James Taylor, whom we wished to draw into our company; but, he being a servant, soon changed his master, and went beyond our reach.  He is also gone to rest, having died at Lowestoft about 1860.

I attended to the commands of my master and mistress; was fairly fed; and my duties were not very stringent.  I was not bound down so closely on the shop seat, but had plenty of outing, and oftentimes worked very late at night, so that we might forward our work, and accomplish the orders by the end of the week, although there was often too much to be done on a Sunday.  My master oft indulged himself in such company as are to be found in public-houses, even on the Sabbath.  There were in those days no restrictions as to the hours.  The houses were kept open all day long, and sometimes he would take me with him, if there was not anything to take me in any other direction.  On one occasion he stayed at the “Bell,” at Beccles, a long time, and being unwilling to part with the company he sent me on to Gillingham, two miles further.  He had a customer who lived through Gillingham Toll-gale; thither I was to go to transact business, and then return.  On my return, he was not ready to go home with me, but said he would be soon.  After waiting till I was tired, I set off to go home to Worlingham.  The mistress, knowing I had gone out with the master, insisted upon knowing where I had left him; I stated the truth.  She felt uncomfortable, and said she would go and fetch him home.  I said that it would not be advisable; that there were drunken people, who would laugh to see her sorrows multiplied; and that, perhaps, she would bear words by which she would be more grieved.  She did not go, and for years after she appreciated the advice it was my happiness to tender on that occasion.

I made progress in my trade; the time—4 years, 31 weeks, and 4 days were being reduced, for time flies.  My master’s father occupied a small farm in the same parish.  Master and I used often to go and help him in busy seasons, such as hay and harvest seasons.  I was also allowed to help master’s customers a few days during the harvest, being always supplied with good harvest food; sometimes the strong ale would make me stagger; and, although I had to work harder, somehow I always felt delighted with the change.

We had only one service at the parish church each Sunday, that being one reason why I was permitted to attend chapel, and sometimes my friend John and I were allowed to go to the Primitive Chapel, at Beccles.  This was during the early ministry of Robert Key; and sometimes we were privileged to listen to that good man, and were instructed and comforted thereby, admiring his plain and easy style of preaching, the gospel of truth and love, through the atonement and satisfaction of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the infinite importance of being saved from wrath through Him.  The good Lord crowned this man’s efforts with abundant success, and he became a “burning and a shining light.”

My master was a kind of sportsman; he kept a gun, also a dog, and occasionally used them.  We were friendly with the gamekeeper, and as we did not annoy or pursue the game, no notice was taken of the master.  I say “we,” for I was allowed to use the gun, and shoot as many wood-pigeons as I could during the winter seasons, for we could not work much at the trade during the sharp weather.  The family increased—a third son was born named Robert; in process of time a fourth named Samuel.  Master built a workshop, for the cottage was becoming too small.  He suggested that I should lodge in the new building.  I preferred staying in the old quarters, and ultimately was permitted to do so to the end of my engagement.

I had often to go very long journeys on Sunday mornings—especially those Sundays when there was no service at church—to Ellough, to Hulver, to Henstead, to Mutford, and sometimes through Beccles to Gillingham, and on one occasion I went with master to Bungay on business.  In this and many other ways the Sabbath was greatly desecrated, while the world with its fascinations and alurements obtained faithful service.

About this time a very tragical affair occurred in our parish.  My friend’s master was on his way home from Beccles, one Saturday night, very late, when, before he arrived at his house, he was attacked by a ruffian, beaten about the head, and almost killed.  It was said he would have been quite murdered, but he had a very thick hairy head—something like a negro’s—by reason thereof the blows did not take fatal effect.

He managed to reach home, and they naturally were greatly alarmed at his condition.  My friend was called up, and sent to Beccles for the doctor.  He had to go past where the murderous attack had been committed, the ground being still moist with blood.  Coming to the place, he told me, he came upon his master’s hat, and having placed it over into Worlingham Park till his return, went forward again unmolested.  Arriving at the town, by Fair Close, when near the Prison, there was a gate and a style, he said he knelt down, and prayed that the Lord would be merciful to his master, and heal him, and spare him a little longer.  This was, perhaps, the first prayer offered in Beccles on that Sunday morning—it was past midnight.  When his poor injured master arrived at his home that prayer was heard and answered, for by assiduous and skilful treatment, poor William Pidgeon’s life was preserved some twenty years longer.  A reward £100 was offered by the Government, upon proof of the offence being established against the perpetrator, but it was not discovered until the poor conscience stricken miserable wretch confessed to it upon his dying bed.  This was the outcome of the burden of a guilty conscience.

During all my servitude hitherto I had but a small amount of pocket money; but in my last year, 1829, after earning a certain sum for master weekly, I was allowed the surplus, and, another coming in to take some of the out-door turns, I could sit and work at the trade more closely, and with more energy, and this also proved an advantage to the master, as well as to myself: thus our interests were to a certain extent mutual, although when a mistake happened, as it sometimes did, then it would assuredly be religion that was most ridiculed, of the which poor master could not discover there was any necessity, although admonished by repeated warnings that our days are as a vapour which soon vanisheth away.

I was now becoming more and more acquainted with the trade of country boot-making, and was considered, as an apprentice, a very decent hand, considering I was learning in a village.  I liked my trade tolerably well, and was, perhaps, on the whole, fairly obliging, amongst the wax, the thread, the leather, and the nails, and all other concomitants incident to a boot-making establishment, to which I had, by this time, become almost naturalised, and felt quite at home as a few extra pence came into my pocket, for although I had permission to go to Beccles to fairs and races, and such like amusements, yet I did not often prefer to accept those seeming favours—those gilded baubles, which perish with the using.  My friend would say, “Let us go for our cows an hour sooner, then we can kneel down and pray for the giddy, noisy multitude,” many of whom were slaves to sin and Satan, fast bound in the snare, from which nothing short of a divine power can extricate—

So sad our state by nature is,
Our sin how deep its stains,
And Satan binds our willing souls
Fast in his slavish chains.

One very warm summer day, we (that is, myself, master, and his father) were after the hay, on the bank of the Waveney, and I told them I should like to have a bathe.  They cautioned me to be careful I was not drowned.  I repeated that I should make the attempt, but they tried to dissuade me.  I told them to “Look out!” and I went over and back easily and safety—preserved and supported by an Omnipotent Almighty hand, when many have been permitted to sink in the stream, and are lost! lost! lost! for ever.  This is the manner in which my giddy steps were preserved, and my youthful career safely and lovingly onward led, and I was permitted to see the “bright light in the cloud.”

I will now state that my apprenticeship closed on the 31st of December, in the year above-mentioned.  It began on the 24th of May, 1825.  Having agreed with my master to work for him for a time, I commenced to work as journeyman.  After having visited a few of my old friends, I took lodgings near with a couple of aged people named Whyatt, where I was very comfortable.  Their youngest son had been apprenticed to Mr. Pidgeon, my friend John having left, or was about leaving his master, and very soon after was summoned to bid adieu to all earthly things, and to enter into his everlasting rest, into which the writer desires to be found, waiting and watching, even unto the end of his course.

I started in housekeeping—bought good bread at Jones’s, of Beccles, and good meat at Crickmoy’s, near the “Red Lion Inn,” and other necessaries were easily obtainable, so that I got on during the first winter fairly well, but had not much money to spare, for perhaps I could have done more work if I had had more alloted to me, but was thankful that the prospect was encouraging.  I worked and sung, walked to my lodgings and enjoyed my coffee and my rest.  I did not book myself at this station only for a short time; the other apprentice, James Smith, was becoming useful, and as the winter passed away, the work in summer did not come in so briskly.

During the summer of this year, 1830, the reign of George IV. came to an end, a short reign, but many troubles, and the national mind manifested no expression of regret on the demise of this self-indulgent and passion-gratifying monarch, while that of his predecessor was said to be just, pious, temperate, and beneficent; every domestic and social grace adorned his character—the ruler and the ornament of a powerful and wealthy empire.

William Henry succeeded to the throne under the title of William IV.

As it happened, the people at Worlingham, with whom I lodged had a son, who had just taken a business in the parish of St. Lawrence, near Bungay, an agricultural district.  This man, wanting another hand, I was engaged to go there to work for him, for a time: but the poor master was not very successful.  His wife was afflicted with violent epileptic fits.  I continued with him about a year, and we had a good run of work, but adverse circumstances bore him down, and in a short time after he left his suffering wife in the care of her parents, sold his effects, and emigrated to America, and I heard but little more of George Whyatt.  As to myself, I was glad to leave the neighbourhood, for gross darkness seemed to have covered the minds of the people, being “led captive by the adversary at his will,” from whose power they were not easily delivered, except by divine interposition.  The “Royal Oak” was the place of meeting on Sundays.  There were then no prohibited hours.  Those, who appeared to be of the better class, did not scruple to spend the best part of the Sabbath at the tavern—sad waste of life and time.

From this place, I thought I should like to obtain work at Laxfield, my native village.  My parents were still there, and I tried, but did not succeed.  There was no open door, and the right way was more eastward and I once more tented my steps to Worlingham, and perhaps felt more happy than I had been for some time.  Being accepted at my former lodgings, I worked sometimes for my late master, and sometimes for his father, and had the free use of my hands and feet, and withal felt the privilege of breathing in a more salubrious atmosphere, the comfort of which I felt to be of considerable value, as my aim was not to be conformed to the world.  I could attend the services of the church, and also the services of the Wesleyan Methodist Chapel, where I found much spiritual instruction, although, by the way, I did not endorse all their sentiments.  My views were becoming Calvanistic, which were strengthened when I occasionally heard Mr. George Wright, Baptist Minister, of Beccles, and Mr. Sloper, of the Congregational Chapel of that town, both of whom are departed hence, and have entered into their rest to be for ever with the Lord, while it is my privilege to follow, although at an humble distance, amid the perplexing and diversified vicissitudes to which poor fallen man is subject in this time state, and having no settled and permanent repose, is continually reminded that the true and substantial rest is at the end of his journey, if sought after according to the instructions contained in God’s Holy Word.

About this time I thought as I had no one but myself, I would try gentleman’s service, not that I had any particular wish to leave Worlingham, but on the whole I thought I might better my condition, so agreed to go into the service of Edmund Skepper, Esq., Maltster, at Oulton, in the capacity of a groom and gardener.  The family here consisted of master, mistress, widowed daughter, and grand daughter, two female servants, myself, and a lad living out to attend to cows, fowls, pigs, &c.

The family professed to serve the Lord, the house-hold were summoned to morning devotion before breakfast: a short piece being read and prayer offered; also evenings before retiring to rest, bible reading and prayer: sermon and prayer on Sunday evenings.

The services at the parish church were held alternately morning and afternoon, the other part we generally attended the church at Lowestoft, where we heard good Mr. Cunningham, or his curate, Mr. Hankinson, or Mr. Hawtry, of Pakefield; there was also a religious service held at a cottage near, conducted by Mr. Skepper, jun., who resided near with his family.  At times I was permitted to attend those evening services, but that gentleman was not permitted to stay here but 42 years, he was attacked with violent typus fever during the summer of 1837, and was carried off after a short illness, leaving a widow with four sons and two daughters to mourn their loss.  I wrote a few verses on the occasion of his funeral, this is a specimen.

Oh messenger, how keen thy blow,
Our worthy friend thou hast laid low:
Yet we rejoice our reason’s just,
In Jesus’ blood he placed his trust.

I did not reside with this gentleman’s father at the time of his death, he having died the previous year, 1836, the mother having died in 1835.  How quickly we are gone!

I must beg to make a retrograde movement here, and go back to the duties devolving on me as gardener: the winter rolled on and spring approached, preparations were needed, there was in the garden a forcing pit, such an one I had never before seen, I sought and obtained the advice and assistance of Richard Sturman, he directed me how to proceed; acting under his advice we had a satisfactory supply of cucumbers, melons, and other garden produce.

The elder Mr. Skepper greatly admired the colony of rooks that assembled during the early spring, and when their young ones were about leaving, he used to being out his air gun and bring down the black family with great precision, my duty on those occasions was to perform the office of armour bearer, and to pump the air into the empty tube while the other was being expended; it was rather a hard job but did not last many hours at a time, and then only in fine weather.  I had also to grind and deliver out small quantities of malt (not less then a peck), to the workpeople and others, the grinding was performed by a handmill, but when any extra quantity was required, I had the assistance of the lad John Adams, who was always at hand, and willing to lend a helping hand in any emergency, although often irritated by there petition of the noisy bell, which generally stood very handy to summon the out-of-door satellites.

I usually drove master out two or three times a week, sometimes to Lowestoft, or Beccles, or Yarmouth, or other places, calling upon farmers and others in the way of trade.  God, in his goodness, so preserved us that we never met with any accident, although late at night getting home.  Their daughter, Mrs. Clarke, had a pony and chaise for the private use of herself and daughter.  I did not drive them except on Sunday to Church, to Lowestoft or Pakefield, as they felt inclined.

In the month of July of the first year I was living with this family, I lost my dear father by death, he being only 59 years off age—1833.  My mother was left to sorrow for his departure, and to work her way through the various trials which bestrewed her path, supported by a watchful, kind, overruling Providence, many years.

Favoured with an excellent state of health, I did not at all regret leaving the shoe trade for a time, and perhaps this healthful employment may have been the means of lengthening out my life, under the divine favour who has guarded my steps in all my journey hitherto, and will continue to do so unto the end of my course.

Mr. Charles Fisher was rector of Oulton at this time, having been appointed in 1829.  He was greatly afflicted, and had a curate, Mr. Richard Pearson, to perform the duties in the parish.  I forbear to insert the prefix which clergymen of the Church of England, and many Dissenting ministers also use, because I think the appellation belongs to God rather than to His creatures, however pure and holy their office or character.  Whenever I hear it spoken as applied to a creature, it grates harshly on my ear, but it may be consistent nevertheless.

I had often an opportunity of conversing with John Adams, the elder (a working maltster on the establishment), and his good wife, both members of a Christian church, who were seeking to walk in the ways of the Lord.  I also felt a longing desire to follow in their steps, as they were following Christ, our Great Redeemer, the infinite freeness, and the unspeakable preciousness of his electing love.  Why were any chosen, when all might justly have been passed by?  Because he was resolved, for His own name’s sake, to make known the riches of His glory on the vessels of mercy, whom He therefore prepared unto grace and glory.

Thus, then, the summer of 1833 passed away.  The garden crops had been very fair, and the orchard crops were abundant.  I revelled among the apples, plums, pears and walnuts, day after day, when the weather was suitable.  In process of time, they were stored, as a supply for the family during the approaching winter, and, moreover, I engaged to remain with the family another year.

The storage of potatoes now commenced.  A large space had been planted, and now they must be gathered in.  Happily, there were no traces of that fearful blight, which have been so prevalent in these latter years, and which we trust will speedily be removed by the interposition of a kind and merciful God, who assuredly doeth all things well, as the preservation of our lives and health abundantly testify, rejoicing our hearts as we are permitted to gather in the superabundant blessings bestowed by the Fatherly hand of the Giver of all good.

The spring succeeded; the ground required preparation, and for crops to be got in no time must now be lost, and, with the assistance of a man now and again, to do some of the heavy digging, and by perseverance, favoured with a continuation of health, and other blessings, I felt that the onward course was somewhat cheerful, rejoicing in the notes of the peacock, the cuckoo, the nightingale, and others of the feathered throng by which we were surrounded.

It was in this place that I first saw my future wife.  She had come into the same service as housemaid, and Mary Ann Newson (the future wife of George Anguish) as cook and dairymaid.  Very industrious servants they were, considering Oulton Hall was not the best constructed residence.  There was a flight of stairs from the kitchen, but they led to the mistress and master’s room.  I was only permitted to pass through that room by special license, at other times having to pass through the parlour on my way to a corridor which led to my bedroom: the family had not then retired to rest.  We had reading and prayers at half past eight o’clock, then I had to go out and see if all was right, and pass quietly to bed at nine.  There was always plenty of work requiring to be done—horses and chaises to be attended to, going out when ordered, gravel and grass in front to keep in order, crops in garden to keep up in succession, weeds to keep down, walks to keep neat, fruit to protect from a hundred and one enemies, against some of which I had to wage war, and make their destruction sure, no longer to cause any annoyance.

The season of summer quickly passed away, and the 11th of October, 1834, arrived, when my agreement expired, as also did the female servants’, and new situations were now sought.  For myself, I thought I would turn my attention to the boot line, at Lowestoft, but soon found my work would not pass, as being not altogether suitable for town inspection, consequently, I agreed with Mr. R. Winyard, a practical bootmaker, of the High-street, to club myself to him for one year, he to find me all the work I could fairly do, and himself to instruct me in the art, where he saw my knowledge defective.  My future wife (Hannah Cox) obtained a situation as housemaid in the family of E. Norton, Esq., solicitor, London Road.

There had been two young men, just before, in the service of Mr. Winyard, who had sickened and died.  This was rather a singular, as also a discouraging circumstance, yet I thought if the good Lord was pleased to continue unto me good health, I would try to do my best, so that I should be able in future to obtain employment.  I soon found my work had to pass through a different process to what I had been accustomed.  The master was patient, and set before me what he considered correct lines, in preference to those which I had acquired in the country, for although he had served his apprenticeship in the country at the time I was serving, but not with the same master, yet, after his time expired, he worked in large manufacturing towns, such as Norwich, Northampton, Cambridge, and Bedford, from which latter place he brought his wife, and settled down in Lowestoft, and obtained a good fair share of the work of that town.

As to myself, my means were rather limited.  I found I must adhere to economy.  I lodged in the master’s house, so that when business was urgent, I could rise early and attend to it, and had not to wait for anyone to let me in.  This was rather an advantage, which was duly appreciated, whether in winter or summer.  Our principal work was Wellington boots and Bluchers.  I came in for a good share of this work, as there was also a man from Norwich, who done the women’s work, and there was likewise a good share of blocking done by me.  That was a process I had not witnessed during my apprenticeship.  It was to strain the fronts of Wellingtons and other boots, so that they might fit and set close upon the instep, clean and even, that the boot might be comfortable and smart when it was worn.

There was another bootmaker on the opposite side of the street, and there he exhibited a show boot.  The fingers of our Norwich man seemed eager to tear this unnecessary appendage from its not very lofty position.  It was decided that down it must come.  There were no policemen in Lowestoft at this time, otherwise our steps would have been more marked with prudence.  A ladder was marked out at a building, and about midnight Mr. Palmer’s elegant boot went speedily down the turnpike, its mutilated remains being subsequently found in a garden in that direction, never more to be restored to its former position, however much it might be needed.

This was to me an obscure and hazy atmosphere; the family did not reverence the Lord; there was not that veneration for the Sabbath, to which I had been accustomed, the motto most absorbing was working, eating, and drinking, but I had an upper room to myself and when the day’s business was over, I enjoyed that retirement so desirable and refreshing to all God’s children.  I preserved in the business, under the instruction of the master.

There were two apprentices on the shop, George Nobbs and George Youngman.  There was also a journeyman of the name of Edward Marjoram, all of them having died young men, while I am suffered to journey onward, amidst many difficulties, yet still supplied, protected, and sustained by the good hand of my God.

Amidst the many changes, the cares, the dangers, and the perplexities, as also the many comforts, I experienced, the year rolled away, and my experience gave me reasons to hope that I should have a fair amount of work in the establishment, with fair wages, which, to a certain extent, was realised, so that onward I continued to work for Mr. Winyard, at Lowestoft.

My sweetheart having left Mr. Norton’s family, she subsequently obtained a situation at Yarmouth, in the family of J. Hurry, Esq., as she said she thought it best to take a wider distance.  I continued to work at Lowestoft, as before, and was elevated to the master’s seat, there being nearly enough for him to attend to downstairs, and at other places.  I felt desirous of making the best use of my time, and being on piecework, could sometimes make long days, but at other times work did not come up so freely.  Then the hands became impatient and wearied, when anxious to earn money, and could not seem to get forward.  These were some of the beginnings of the trials of life, and they were to be continued, however desirous it might be to have them removed, but while permitted, they have their effects upon those whom they are designed to benefit.

The cheap postage had not yet come into operation, but letters could be enclosed in brown paper, and thus, taking the form of a parcel, were conveyed to Yarmouth, and safely delivered for the sum of twopence, by Mr. John Balls, at that time a carrier, residing at the corner of Duke’s Head Street, Lowestoft.

I continued to work in that town until drawing towards the close of the summer of 1836.  I was asked by Mrs. Clarke if I would agree to come into her service; she would give me a week to think it over.  I did so, and knowing them to be quiet, religious people, arranged to go to reside in their house, and be their servant.  They kept a pair of ponies and a four-wheeled phæton.  The family consisted of mistress (a widow lady), daughter, housekeeper, and myself, so that when all went out together, the carriage was fairly filled.

There had been several changes taken place since I left the family at Oulton Hall in 1835, the mistress having died, and in the following year the master was borne away, consequently the brother, B. Skepper, Esq., before mentioned, agreed with Mrs. Clarke, his sister, to change residences, the brother having previously, with his family occupied the smaller house, the “Cottage.”  It was at the cottage, by the river side where I was to be located during the approaching winter, and soon became initiated in my new duties.  The two ponies were old acquaintances, as also the superiors, but I had to make the acquaintance of the housekeeper and a furious-looking dog.  This was soon accomplished, and we professed to be a family desirous of serving the Lord, the God of our fathers.  There was another cottage near, occupied by John Adams, his wife, and family.  They were people who for many years had been walking in the ways of the Lord, and they felt anxious that my hand should strengthened in this important matter.  They belonged to the denomination called Baptists, exhibiting and illustrating the doctrine of our inability to do works meet for repentance by reason of Adam’s transgression, we must first have a good will, which is the gift of God, and then must have divine grace working in us when we have that goodwill.  And these good works of ours, yea! our very best performances, are taken to go for nothing in the matter of our salvation.  This must be accomplished entirety by the imputed righteousness of our Saviour Jesus Christ.  That our inability to repent and believe it by reason of that spiritual death in which we are by nature so fearfully involved.

My superiors were members of the Church of England, and the housekeeper, although having lived in a clergyman’s family, yet she had been led to believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and also to receive the ordinance of baptism by immersion, as the only scriptural mode on a profession of faith in God’s beloved eternal Son.  Here, again, we compared these sentiments with God’s word, searched the Scriptures daily, whether things were so; many of these truths, which before had been obscured by blindness and prejudice were now like beacons shining brightly in a dark place.  We, one and all, under the teaching, the comforting, the illuminating, and instructing power and guidance of the Holy Spirit went on our way rejoicing.

Mr. Charles Fisher, rector of the parish, having died in the early part of this year, a new rector Edwin Proctor Dennis, came to reside in Oulton, but as there was no rectory house suitable, a new house was, after a little time built, and it was also arranged there should be two services at the church instead of one, as formerly.  We usually attended those services at least three of the four, one staying at home for a little protection to the house, and on Sabbath evenings we drove off to Lowestoft—superiors to St. Peter’s, while the servants were allowed to go to the Baptist Chapel, and to be down with the carriage in time service was over.  This was the general routine: occasionally we posted off to St. Peter’s, on a Sunday morning, but not often.

We were generally very quiet and unmolested.  Now and then, the mistress was somewhat annoyed by hearing the report of a gun, and used to send me to look after the intruder, and, if possible, obtain his name and authority, and bring in his statement, but they were not proceeded against, only warned to keep off the estate.  I had here to attend to the garden, and walks, as also carriage road through the meadow; carriage and harness to keep in order; and many jobs indoors, so that, with going out, my time was pretty well occupied.  We had evening and morning reading and prayers, and, on the whole, I had not much to complain of.  There was great regularity; each evening and morning brought its work, and attention to be given at the proper time.  Winter being over, and the smiling spring having arrived, the pleasant month of May, a relative of the mistress had arranged to be married.  My ladies were invited to the wedding, and I was asked if the ponies could do the journey—52 miles.  I thought it could he accomplished in two days, by stopping at Norwich (a distance of 24 miles) the first night, and by terminating the journey on the second day.  It will be remembered that, in the days to which I am alluding, there were no railroads in these parts.  Next came the necessary preparations—it was essential that the ponies should be in good health, their shoes must be strong and good, harness must not be defective, and the carriage in trim, and everything placed in readiness for the long journey.

At the appointed time, we took our departure, the weather being fine and the country charming; and, there being no necessity for fast travelling, we were enabled to admire the beauties of Nature, and to scan the various operations which were being carried on in the fields and roads as we passed.  Norwich, in due time, was reached.  My mistress and her daughter were driven to the residence of their friends, and I received instructions to proceed with the vehicle to a livery stable, situate in St. Giles’, where the ponies were fed and rested, I afterwards proceeding to my lodgings.  The next morning we were all astir, and, after having partaken of breakfast, we again proceeded onwards.  Mr. Pilgrim, coroner—whose duties might have led him thither—accompanied us to Dereham, and for the purpose of placing him down, and also for feeding the ponies, we pulled up at the Eagle Hotel.  Resuming our journey, the great coach passed us as we were nearing our destination, and the Manor House, at Swaffham, was soon reached.

The nuptials were celebrated, Mr. William Clarke and his bride left for their honeymoon.  I don’t think that I have ever seen them since.  During our visit, of a week’s duration, in the day time I was at the Manor House, but at night I slept at the house of the farm bailiff, at the neat little lodge.

Swaffham church is possessed of a very handsome tower, the bells of which rang out beautifully on that happy occasion.  It was a joyful season—the whole town seemed as if they must be real joy birds, as the bridegroom was the only child of his aged parents.

I attended church on the Sabbath morning, there being a large congregation assembled within its walls; and in the afternoon visited the Baptist Chapel with Alice (one of the servants at the Manor House) and heard a very solemn discourse, delivered by Mr. Hewitt, the minister at that place.  The Union House was then being built, and I have not seen it since it was completed.  We drove round several villages—Sporle, Castleacre, and Southacre.  Thus the time passed on, until the period arrived for us to make our return journey.  In doing so, we again stayed a night in Norwich, and subsequently, thanks for the mercies of our God, we arrived safe at Oulton.

During the same year, 1837, Mrs. Clarke’s only brother was borne to a cold grave, being only 42 years of age.  He had just been altering the house and premises to his own mind, when he was called away from this transitory state.  My youngest brother also sickened and died in this year, at the age of 22, having been born in the month in which the battle of Waterloo was fought.  Seeing our days are as a vapour, every sorrow cuts a string and urges us to rise.  Thus we are called to experience the various scenes of light and shade through which we have to pass in prosecuting our journey to our final home.

Having had many opportunities of discussing the subject of regeneration and the new birth, and as God, in His boundless mercy, had granted unto me the presence of His Holy Spirit to witness with my spirit that He was indeed in earnest with me, and thus I was brought to feel the weight of this question, “and now, why tarryist Thou, arise and be baptised.”  I stated my convictions unto the church worshipping at Lowestoft, opposite the Vicarage (now a school,) and was baptised in June of that year by William Garwood, “in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost,” as an answer of an obedient and quickened conscience towards my Lord and my God.  I did not very much enjoy the preaching of Mr. Denniss, our rector.  He was rather a domineering steward, contending that the Church of England, the church of his fathers, was the only true church; that it honours the bible, and was one of the oldest branches of Christ’s Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church, while dissenters and their creeds and ordinance, were erroneous and misleading and would in the end prove destructive to body and soul.  I came into collision with that gentlemen more than once, for in those days I read the bible in search of truth, and sometimes I felt I had aid and enlightenment given me from on high, and I concluded that there were those apart from the Church enjoying unspeakable happiness.

This eventful year rolled on with its multitude of joys and sorrows, hastening us on through all life’s varied stages, continually seeking after happiness, our being’s end and aim, and labouring, working with our hands, the most important method of obtaining the bread which sustains the body, as well as being directed to that which endureth unto eternal life, which shall be inherited and enjoyed by everyone of God’s dear children.  I used to think that the entire little band who resided at that remote corner of the vine-yard, at least all who were come to years of maturity, were amongst that happy number, we read good books, prayed that the Lord would be our director, and felt that we were journeying to the place which the Lord had prepared for those that love and serve his name.  I had often heard Mr. Adams express himself, that Mr. Breame Skepper was to him a guide, a counsellor, and friend, but now he was taken away no more to counsel, and to comfort, and direct.  These are some of the mysterious dispensations of a wise and loving Father, and although we are not now permitted to know the whys and the wherefores, yet we shall know hereafter, enough is for the present revealed, that we may trust in the Lord, and stay ourselves upon his gracious assurances, and surely “All things work together for good to them that love God.”

I ought to have observed that one of the first acts performed by Mr. Denniss was to build a gallery at the west end of the Church, for the accommodation of the working men; in this he was assisted by others, as the subjoined inscription witnesseth—

“This gallery was erected at the expense of the patron and some of the principal landowners of the parish, A.D., 1836.”

Edwin P. Denniss, B.C.L.  Rector.

Henry Youngman, Breame Skepper, Churchwardens.

Next he had to superintend the building of a Rectory House, this took place 1837–8; it was accomplished, and a very handsome and convenient house it looks, but it was not for the enjoyment of its builder very long, and while I am writing it has been the residence of three rectors beside Mr. Denniss, who was a working clergymen, and no doubt felt whilst he was industriously promoting habits of thrift and economy among the working classes, and founding what was called a clothing club, he was doing the work of the Lord, yet it was thought and said that too much of it was transacted on the day of the Lord; in other respects it was a means of drawing the common people to church, where much of this business was transacted, and carnal things took the place of spiritual.

Other great events occurred during that memorable year 1837.  Our King William IV. whose health had been for some months in a precarious state, died at Windsor, on the 20th of June, after a short reign of seven years.  There was a large gathering at St. Peter’s Chapel on the day of the funeral, a solemn service was conducted by Mr. Cunningham, the vicar, the text was from Micah vi. 9, “The Lord’s voice crieth unto the city, and the man of wisdom shall see thy name, hear ye the rod, and who hath appointed it.”

Our good Queen Victoria was proclaimed on the day following, as sovereign of these realms, and on the 28th of June, in the following year, 1838, the coronation of Her Majesty took place amidst great rejoicing.

My affianced still resided at Yarmouth, and during that summer she came on a holiday to see her parents, and I obtained leave of absence to meet her there, that we might talk over our present affairs and also the future, as to continuing in service or declining that position and commencing a boot and shoe business on our own account, and ultimately the latter was decided on, and we returned to our homes to complete our engagements, and to apprize our superiors that we declined to remain in their service after the coming Michaelmas, things were thus far plain and understandable.

As a beginning to make preparations for the change in my condition, I hired a cottage and garden of Mr. Johnson George, miller of Oulton, at £6 per year, and on the 16th day of October, 1838, was married to Hannah Cox, whose parents resided in the village.  Mr. Denniss was the clergyman and Mr. John Osborn was clerk of the aforesaid parish.

I am now arrived at something like the middle of my journey, and will just take a retrospect, all the way the Lord my God hath led me, to guard me, to try me, to prove me, and to see what is in mine heart.  Now let me just ask myself am I thankful?

“When all thy mercies, O my God,
My rising soul surveys.”

Is my heart filled with gratitude for all those supports and deliverances?  And then again as to the prospect here, I stand as it were on a narrow neck of land with boundless seas on either side, if God preserves I am perfectly safe, but if left to follow the devices and inclination of my corrupt and stubborn heart, shall be weighed down with perplexing cares and sorrows, out of which it is no easy matter to be delivered, except by divine interposition, then looking onward I must labour, working with hands and mind, to obtain the bread that perisheth, as also that which endureth unto eternal life, being identified with and living in Him who is the bread of life which came down from heaven.

I may just say in passing, that the housekeeper, Marianne Rous, was soon after married to Christopher Leman, a cooper of Lowestoft, the mistress, also, after a little while went forth from her residence, and during her temporary absence was married to Mr. George Borrow.  That gentleman having visited several times while I was in Mrs. Clarke’s services, although, by the way, I knew not the secret.

I had now to look out for employment.  Mr. Winyard promised to give me some, so after it I went, and soon got up a little connection at home; all wanted boots and I wanted to work and obtain the money, although in this I was often disappointed.  I soon taught my wife to work in the boot trade, the work was all performed by hand in those days, machines had not come into use, and although I could not undertake to bind women’s boots, yet I knew the method by which they were done, as also the materials required for the purpose, the difficulty was soon overcome; she was blessed with good eyesight as well as with very pliant fingers, and after a year or two she would do neater work in even men’s boots and shoes than I could: there was a willing mind and thus obstacles were overcome; customers were accommodated, the little business obtained an impetus, and the earnest and humble promoters received encouragement.

When harvest arrived, my wife prepared to go out in the fields gleaning, and gathered up two or three bushels of good wheat, which was a great help, as during first year of housekeeping flour was two shillings and ninepence per stone, even that was trying to young beginners, for there was in reality a good number of things wanting, and our little trade seemed to absorb the cash in the purchase of materials, so that we had but little left for food and other necessaries.  However, under the blessing of God we made progress, having more than a handful of meal in a barrel, and more than two sticks to refresh the languishing fire, the Lord did provide.

There was a large pear tree in our garden, two nice apple trees, and a cherry tree, all bringing a little delicious fruit; we had not many pears the first year, but the second year there was a good crop, and we sold more than twenty shilling’s worth, beside what we gave away and used ourselves.  I built a pigsty and put a pig in, that my wife might have something to look at when she walked in the garden, the pig settled and did nicely, and when it was killed it weighed 13 stone; we were cheered as the pig prospered, we felt we prospered also, and no doubt we did begin to get on nicely while we occupied the cottage and premises of Mr. Johnson George, at Oulton.

We bought and put in the front room of our cottage, a register stove, three-feet square, the selling price was one shilling per inch, costing £1 15s., landlord supplying a new chimney piece, and we put up an iron oven in the back room, but we did not continue in that occupation very long, we spent four seasons of Christmas there, when, their son Henry being about to be married we had to leave and make room for the old people, who, by the way, had to make room for the younger ones.  We agreed to go, and leave behind the stove which is still in the room, after forty years use.  We took away the iron oven to another cottage, which I engaged of Mrs. Pleasance Knights at the rent of £4 10s. per year; at that time standing empty, the next tenement being also empty, they would not stand empty now if owners wished them occupied.  This was rather a convenient old cottage, it supplied a room on the front side, which I could use for a workshop, which was a great accommodation, and at Christmas, that is on the 6th of January, 1842, we left Mr. George’s cottage, as requested, and took our goods and chattels to Mrs. Knights’s cottage, on the hill, and although it was sometimes a sad place for smoking, yet we had a good share of employment, and on the whole, although we met with some who were not at all times inclined to act uprightly, yet there was a good preponderance of honesty in the neighbourhood, men and women on whose acts and promises we could rely.

For several years I took out work from Mr. Winyard, so that there was no want of employment.  Here again I must build a pigsty by the roadside, and it was soon inhabited, and by some thought to be too near the house, but we received no harm among the boots and wax and other materials; customers would talk and pigs would shriek the while, so that we were not always silent and sorrowful.  The garden here contained several nice fruit trees, but no pear tree, another drawback was there was no water to the house, but we could have as much as we wanted by fetching it from Mrs. Knights’s across the road, and we could catch some in rainy weather.  We purchased a shop stove, and made a hole through the brickwork into the chimney, so that we could often live on that side when the other room was smoky, we found the comfort of this as an impediment was removed.  In the year 1840, I was appointed steward of an institution called the “Pakefield Friendly Society,” the duties of which was to receive the contributions of the members in my district, and also the applications for membership, and bring them up to the monthly meetings held at Lowestoft, on the first Tuesday evening of each month, from six to eight.

I was very successful in obtaining employment, worked closely, and began to have what might be said to be a good connection, so much so that I could not get through with it myself, and as customers’ patience began to wear out I set on James Jacobs as journeyman.  My wife done a good part in helping on with the uppers, so that we went fairly into business and made long days of work.  About this time there was a poor woman in Lowestoft, a Mrs. Parr, who was afflicted with insanity, and had become sometimes violent and almost unmanageable, we were asked if we would take the charge of her, and do our best to keep her from harm for a time, as they were afraid lest she might do harm to herself or to some other persons: my wife, after an interview with her medical attendant, Mr. Worthington, came to the conclusion that she would make the trial.  The terms were fixed for board and attendance, and the money was duly paid at the house of Mr. B. Edmonds, a chemist, at Lowestoft.  She came as arranged, my heart was overwhelmed to witness such a spectacle of human infirmity, of one whom I had known and who always appeared to be so cheerful and clever, but afflictions, though severe, are designed to bring about the purposes of Infinite Wisdom and Love; neither my wife nor myself rested much the first week: she sung, concocted rhymes and comparisons, for three days and three nights without sleep, we were supplied with a heavy chair for her use during the day, and an appliance called a muff, to secure her hands during the time she was in bed, otherwise she would have been gone when those in charge were taking a little rest in sleep, we many times wished we had not taken her, but being there she had to remain until other arrangements could be made.  Her friends visited her and appeared satisfied though sorrowful, and after being with us one year, her friends arranged that she should be an indoor-patient at St. Luke’s Hospital, an institution in London, for the treatment of such cases; she was there for one year, and ultimately was removed to Melton Asylum, her last earthly residence.

Now is coming on the construction of a new railroad from Lowestoft to Reedham.  Great preparations are being made, materials, and men, and horses, and implements, are deposited in the locality, besides temporary dwellings for the overlookers and gangers; we in this neighbourhood never having seen the like.  It was a marvellous undertaking, but day by day we witnessed the skilful operations of the workmen, several of whom made their place of rest with us during the time the work was in progress, my wife cooking for them day by day, and otherwise preparing their food and making their beds.

Mr. Denniss, having built the rectory house, the school, appointed teachers, removed old buildings and various other things by way of improvement in our parish, to him assigned.  In 1845, his effects were sold by public auction, and the man and his family took their departure after a brief stay of nine years.  He was succeeded by Chas. Henry Cox, an earnest, solemn clergyman, whose aim was to “point us to brighter worlds, and lead the way.”  He was the father of a large family, but his gentle and kind christian bearing told powerfully upon the minds of the people under his charge.

The dangerous operations of making the railroad was carried on, one of my lodgers was killed while making the road.  I made a note of it at the time of the occurrence, which is this: Inquest held at Mr. Beaumont’s, Mutford Bridge, before J. E. Sparrowe, Esq., August 20th, 1846, on the body of John Smith, my esteemed lodger, who was unfortunately killed by a railroad waggon accidently passing over his body, on Tuesday, the 18th, a sad and painful event to those who witnessed it.  In February of the following year, my wife’s mother was taken suddenly ill, and after a few hours expired, leaving a sorrowful family to mourn their loss, a mysterious dispensation of Divine Providence, unfathomable to us short-sighted mortals, but loudly speaking to all who have ears to hear, “Arise, depart, for this is not your rest.”

I had now plenty of work for myself and journeyman, my work suited the navvies as well as others, and I had also a good share of orders from the master, Mr. Kershaw, who generally undertook to supply boots to those that travelled with him, making railroads, according to the pattern worn by the men on the work.  They also supplied slops, shirts, and caps, and almost all articles of food, as also that important beverage strong beer, for which they held an out-door licence, as those men were real guzzlers, and when the end of the fortnight arrived, they had not much money to take home to their lodgings.  They were evidently not a saving class of men, and did not take much care about the salvation of their immortal souls.  But that good philanthropist, Mr. Peto, the benefactor of Lowestoft and its neighbourhood, engaged Mr. Johnson, as a sort of home Missionary, to go amongst the people and speak a word of warning and of counsel to them, and also to distribute interesting books among them, which they could read or hear read at their lodgings.  This was a very praiseworthy act of that generous man, who, although they could not recompense him, yet he will be recompensed at the resurrection of the just, for the which he is content to wait.  In course of time the railroad was constructed to Reedham, to join the Yarmouth and Norwich line, and thence passengers and cattle were conveyed to the Metropolis.

Mr. Cox, our rector, was very assidious in his visits among his parishioners, and did as much as he could to ameliorate their condition, notwithstanding the claims of home, so that his visits were generally appreciated.  He used to be absent from his home a week in two months, and it was said he had an engagement out, a duty to perform one Sunday in a month.  On one of those outward distant attendances he was taken sick and died, and never came here again, his body was buried at Great Marlow, in Buckingham.  Here then the shepherd was suddenly separated from his flock, the husband from the wife, and the father from his family, not knowing why they are thus bereft of a friend, a guide, and a counsellor; they are comforted to know that he is taken away in the midst of his usefulness, and that his happy spirit has passed through the gates of the New Jerusalem and joined the Church Triumphant above, where there are joys for evermore.  Thus it pleases our Heavenly Father sometimes to gather his children at a comparatively early age, while others, who have a larger field of usefulness to occupy on earth, are detained from their crown, until full of years and good works.  Each of these is then gathered “as a shock of corn cometh in in his season,” and further, here is the gracious assurance, “Even to your old age I am he, and even to hoary hairs will I carry you; I have made and I will bear, even I will carry and I will deliver you.”—Isaiah xlvi. 4.

The “Pakefield Friendly Society” had continued to flourish under well regulated management.  Annual statements were made, and circulated amongst the members, the greatest number of whom is reported in 1855, exactly thirty years from its formation, the number being 363 while its highest amount of capital is reported in 1863, £4,964, and from that time the fund was each successive year reported to be less, and in 1868, five years later, was £4,288, £676 having been expended over its income, which told very plainly the society was not in a solvent condition.  On the 11th day of June, 1850, several plots of building ground were offered for sale by auction, Messrs. Norton and Reeve were vendor’s solicitors, I bought two of those plots for the sum of £58, thinking perhaps I might erect a dwelling thereon, as I had hitherto been glad to hire a cottage for my use, but even in that matter I had been very fairly accommodated.  I now took an apprentice, John Crowther, that he might learn to make boots, he was rather a sharp lad, and we got on together very fairly.  Early in 1851, another new rector, Mr. Hunter Francis Fell, came to our parish, with four daughters, who very laudably acted as curates in taking the oversight of the parish, and carrying on the infants’ and adults’ schools with commendable and praiseworthy efforts.

I was now busily engaged in preparing to build two cottages and a workshop, having taken in 10,000 bricks the previous autumn that they might be ready for spring work.  Mr. Saml. Neslen, of Lowestoft, was my carpenter, and Mr. Thomas Swatman, Sen., my bricklayer, we went in for building in good earnest, as something must be accomplished in the way of building by the roadside near Mutford Bridge.  My wife’s youngest sister was appointed to attend the school as governess, but it was soon found her nerves were not sufficiently strong, her rest was broken, which threatened to undermine her health, my wife was invited to attend for a time, and see how her sister went on, she did not become at all strong, and consequently my wife was permanently engaged as mistress of the school, and I was engaged in superintending the building of cottages destined to become our future residence.  This year was noted for the great exhibition in Hyde Park, the world’s fair.  I had several invitations to go to witness that large gathering, but my time and money was required in other directions, thinking that building might be the only one that I should have an opportunity of ever again being engaged in on my own account.  The new rector soon felt at home in the parish, ready to speak a healing word and perform a kind act, when he heard the voice of sorrow from without, for he knew that “the sorry of the world worketh death.”  He was desirous that his flock should “abound in every thing in faith, utterance, knowledge, and in all diligence, and also in love.”

During the summer my cottages and shop were completed, I gave up my former cottage and came to reside in one of them, which was light, and bright, and airy, and I thought it a great mark of Divine favour that this marvellous piece of work had been accomplished.  Now again more than ever the boot trade engrossed my attention: I worked on, the trade did not fail, it was said that machines were being invented which would do the work quick, and hand work would be at a discount.  I was not troubled at this.  I felt that my Heavenly Father had opened the way for me, and that the same kindness and favour would be continued; my duly was clear to be “diligent in business, fervent in spirit, serving the Lord.”  There was enough work to employ me a whole year or more: gardens to be arranged, fences to be removed, ground to be levelled and planted, walls and outbuildings to be constructed, and altogether such a metamorphosis as fixed me and others in wonderment as to how it all had been brought about.  After having done as much as was necessary to the new places for a time, and as there was no time for idleness, heads and hands must work in earnest, while the eyesight is good.

Another lad now came to me to be instructed, John Mays: he suffered from lameness in his hip, but his hands and eyes were free, and with those two lads and a journeyman, we got through a good quantity of work.

Mr. Fell visited me and approved of my building and arrangements, he said it was a very pleasant and open healthy neighbourhood, hoping it would be appreciated by its owners, and good and lasting health enjoyed by its attendants and tenants.

In 1837, I, with George Nobbs, were appointed constables of the parish: the duties were to preserve order, to go to the public houses if sent for, and to attend upon the coroner and summon the jurors in case of inquests.

There were four inquests during my two years of service.  The first was at the “Boar Inn,” Oulton, on the 25th of May, 1857, before J. K. Sparrowe, Esq., coroner, on the body of Robt. Baldry, who was killed by the wheel of a tumbril passing over his head.  The second was taken at the “House of Industry,” on the 9th day of October, 1857, before B. L. Gross, Esq., deputy-coroner, on the body of William Jinkerson, aged 47 years, who fell down and expired.  The third was taken at the “Wherry Inn,” on the 14th day of November, 1857, before J. E. Sparrowe, Esq., on the body of George Wade, who was drowned accidently during the thick darkness of November 10th.  The fourth was taken at the house of Mr. Thomas Roe Woods, on the 20th day of April, 1858, before J. E. Sparrowe, Esq., on the body of William Mace, who was killed by the horn of a bullock, which pierced the front of his head, on the premises of Mr. Woods.

This year, 1858, the East Suffolk Railway was forwarded in good earnest, the piles driven in the water to support the bridge were all driven by the 31st of August, ready to bear its burden.  The bridge being done the first load of earth passed over November 26th, the first engine passed over on the 17th of December, first train of carriages passed over on the 25th of February, 1859, and was afterwards opened for public traffic as a railway, on the 1st of June.

During this year Mr. Barnard built the chapel at the corner in Carlton Colville, and it was opened on the 6th day of September for Divine worship, the preachers were Mr. Alfred Bourne, in the afternoon, and Mr. John Alexander, in the evening, who choose for his text on that occasion Matthew vii, 7, 8, in which the venerable man exhorted his hearers, that having obtained this house of prayer, there were still other blessings they needed that they might grow in grace and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.  He also enlarged on the privileges brought by the gospel, a great festival—“Redemption by the blood of Christ.”  This is the one grand blessing which comprehends all other blessings.  The table is always spread, the company are always welcome, the season is always pleasant, and the joy is always new, we were to pray for a spiritual appetite that we might enjoy this feast, be fed continually with the bread of life, and drink of the wine of heavenly consolation, no longer to entertain an appetite for the vanities of the world, but that with the Psalmist have the Lord for our Shepherd, leading us by green pastures and still waters, that we may rise to sit at that table, which is for ever spread in heaven.

The new chapel services were appreciated, a goodly number attended each Sabbath from the Oulton side of the bridge, as also in the Carlton district, where the chapel was erected, the churches, in those respective parishes being a long distance from thence.  The residents of the locality having taken counsel together resolved to present a testimonial to Mr. Barnard, for the great kindness he had conferred, and on Wednesday evening, the 4th January, 1860, a large assembly, including several friends from Lowestoft, met at the chapel, and presented that gentleman with “Dr. Kittos Commentory on the Bible,” together with a handsome table lamp, hoping that himself and Mrs. Barnard might be spared many years to investigate its sacred truths, which some of us, who were present on that interesting occasion, feel assured has been realised, for although more than twenty years have rolled away, and some who worshipped with us in that place are gone to their rest, yet the founder and Mrs. B. survives, and the chapel services are being continued, and we hope also by many enjoyed, knowing the Great Master’s service is perfect freedom.

May 28th was the severest gale in this season ever remembered: Four mackerel boats were missing from Lowestoft with all their crews, and also two cutters (carriers).  As the 18th of June arrived, all hope was abandoned.  Six from our town, boats and cutters, and eleven from Yarmouth and Gorleston, with a loss of about 200 hands!  Nine of them belonged to the parish of Oulton.  The evening of the 21st October, was very remarkable for changes.  In the short space of two hours we had thunder, lightning, rain, hail, snow, wind, and frost, accomplished by an Almighty power.  An aged and sincere friend, who had preached to us many times in Mr. Barnard’s chapel, whom we called “Captain Ducker,” was called to his rest January 20th, 1861, aged 70 years.  His last service with us was on the evening of Sunday, December 23rd of the preceding year.  And it might be truly said of him, as was recorded of Barnabas:—“He was a good man, and full of the Holy Ghost and of faith,” rejoicing to see believers added to the Lord, and walking in fellowship, as children of a King.

Another solemn event took place in our parish.  Mr. Fell, rector of Oulton, died at Worldham, Hants, on Sunday, November 10, aged 71 years, having held the living from 1851.  Here, then, we see merciful men taken away; and, when rightly considered, they are taken from the evil to come.  My wife had conducted the school through the late rector’s incumbency, and is still going on with the same.  The Prince Consort died on the 14th of December, and was buried on the 23rd of the same month.  Thus:

God moves in a mysterious way,
His wonders to perform.

“His ways are past finding out.”  “Lord, make me to know the measure of my days, that I may know how frail I am,” and, further, that I may be prepared for that great and solemn change, which I feel sure must soon arrive.

In January, 1862, Mr. Charles Snell was presented to the living at Oulton, vacant by the death of Mr. Fell.  He comes into residence, and finds out the relative position of his parishioners, the domestic comforts of some, and the troubles and mishaps, and cares and sorrows of others, all needing a word of counsel, as also a word of consolation, and thus they are supported amidst the trials and conflicts of this mortal life, which are almost continually pressing upon them.  Here, then, the good man is inducted into the living.

He asks the aid of heavenly power,
To guard him in the evil hour.

And resolves to warn and teach, according to the standard of divine truth, and resolved to exemplify the bearing of a Christian minister, by the grace of God.  To show unequivocally and impressively that “all have sinned and come short of the glory of God,” and then comes free justification by His grace, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus.  He takes his safe stand upon this doctrine, and affirms that it is “God who hath set forth Jesus Christ to be a propitiation, through faith in His blood, to declare His righteousness for the remission of sins, that are past through the forbearance of God.”  And should he be asked, “Is the blood of Christ sufficient to atone for the whole world?” he replies, “Quite so; but only efficient to save those who being justified by faith, enjoy also peace with God, through our Lord Jesus Christ.”  And, as the apostle Paul asserts, in his fifth chapter of Romans:—“By whom we have now received the atonement.”  Truly, this is the comfort wherewith we desire to be always comforted.

Mr. Dovey, the Baptist minister at Lowestoft, preached his first sermon in that town in December, 1844, and continued his ministrations for seventeen years.  His last sermon, as pastor was delivered February 23rd, 1862.  Mr. Aldis, his successor, came to Lowestoft in the same year.  Mr. G. S. Crisp died on the 30th May, 1863, at the age of 79 years.  This good man was for many years a preacher of the gospel at the Congregational Chapel, at Lowestoft, and for many years came and preached the word of life at Carlton Colville, and was so engaged at the time the new chapel was built, although soon afterwards called to put off the clay tabernacle, and enter into his rest, of which he had long been seeking and preaching in days that were past.  Here, then, the gospel has been preached; sinners have been warned and invited; Jesus Christ hath been set forth as a willing Saviour.  But, alas!  There are so many who think the gospel is so far beneath their attention they cannot understand how it pleases God, by the foolishness of preaching, to save them that believe.  They refuse to believe that the gospel is of God, and that they are bound to receive it, and must not cavil or raise objections.  It is for the acceptance of all who possess any views worth having, and those who still continue to neglect this great salvation will in the end find that it will grind them to powder.  Such was the sad experience of that infatuated and misguided wretch who on the 14th April of this year fell by the hand of the executioner, at Ipswich, for the murder of Ebenezer Tye, at Halesworth.

Having now commenced the fifth year of the chapel services at Carlton, it is suggested that a testimonial be presented to Mr. Hinde, expressive of the appreciation of the attendance as to the spiritual services supplied by that gentleman, and ably conducted by him in that House of Prayer.  On the evening of Friday, the 15th of January, 1866, a handsome writing cabinet was presented to Mr. Hinde, at the chapel, a large gathering having met on that interesting occasion.  I do not exactly remember if the number of services were announced that Mr. Hinde had conducted, but it shall be recorded here with gladness:—During the first year 31 services; second year 51; third year, 46; fourth, 56; and to January 15th, 17; then to the end of the fifth year, 39, making again 56; and these numbers are all exclusive of week evening services, and afterwards they were successfully continued, and we believe are so still.  But before I quite take leave of my Carlton friends, I am reminded that there was another earnest and devoted servant of God, a veteran in the Master’s service, and who usually shared each service with his friend, Captain Ducker—I allude now to Mr. Delf, of Lowestoft, who is also gone to his rest.  Their last united service was on the evening of November 4th, 1860.  We admired the vigilance of the two good and faithful evangelists, who desired to be found instant in season—yea! and out of season!—so that they might finish their course with joy, and serving their generation, by the will of God, entered into rest.

There is just one other incident I cannot pass over in connection with Carlton Chapel.  The friends, organised a series of special services, called “Revival Meetings,” in which the writer took part.  They were seasons of refreshing from the presence of the Lord.  The first was held on the evening of March 18th, 1861; the second, March 20th; the third, March 25th; the fourth, March 26th; the fifth, April 3rd: the sixth, April 12th; the seventh, April 17th; the eighth, April 24th, and the last of those services was performed on the evening of the 1st May—happy sacred seasons, and were by some long remembered, and thanking the friends who came to Carlton, I will now take my leave.

Again, as I remember to have taken leave of the Vicar of Lowestoft—Mr. Cunningham—who always took a lively interest in the Pakefield Friendly Society, of which I was still agent, under Mr. Henry Seppings, as secretary, having served under two secretaries previously, who had been removed from the office.  There were generally those present at our meetings who were pleased to witness the good man’s smiles, and to hear a few courteous words in furtherance of the well being of the society, which were always well received.  I will here insert the inscription on his tomb:

Sacred to the Memory of
FRANCIS CUNNINGHAM,
42 Years Rector of Pakefield, and from 1830 till within a few
months of his death, Vicar of Lowestoft,
Born July 27th, 1785; Died August 8th, 1863,
Aged 78 Years.

I will now close my observations for the present year, by stating the harvest home festival was celebrated on the 3rd of September.

“The way of the Lord is in the sea, His paths are in great waters, and His footsteps are not known.”  “He bloweth with His wind, and the waters flow.”  We have recently witnessed some terrific gales—November, 1864.  Six steamboats have put into Lowestoft harbour with a great number of dead cattle on board.  The judgments of the Lord are a great deep, who can understand?  Many scenes of affliction, disappointment, sorrow, and death beset our path.  Martha Bone, of Ryburgh, Norfolk—my wife’s eldest sister—suddenly called away by death, reminding us again to prepare with all earnestness, for “Behold! the Judge standeth at the door.”  May the Lord, in His mercy, give us grace to be so prepared.

I have now before me a charge to a Dissenting minister jotted down:

1.—Preach Christ crucified, and dwell chiefly on the blessings resulting from His righteousness, atonement, and intercession.

2.—Avoid all needless controversies in the pulpit, except it be when your subject necessarily requires it, or when the truths of God are likely to suffer by your silence.

3.—When you ascend the pulpit, leave your learning behind you, if you wish to preach more to the hearts of your people than to their heads.

4.—Do not affect too much oratory.  Seek rather to profit than to be admired—a timely, wholesome, affectionate, and salutary charge.

The Sabbath Schools Union festival was celebrated on Mr. Crabbbe’s lawn, on Tuesday, August 16th, 1864.  The harvest was begun about a week before.

After a lapse of nearly four years, Mr. Samuel Abbott, of Lowestoft, is again invited to take part in the good work at Carlton Chapel.

The foundation-stone of the new chapel at Mutford Bridge was publicly laid on the 30th day of May, 1865, by Mr. Chew, of Norwich.  There was at the time a strong cold wind, blowing from the west, yet a good number of friends were present on the occasion.  On the 28th June died Martha, the wife of John Bullard.  During the latter years of her life, she walked in the ways of the Lord.  Her conversion was considered to be brought about by the revival and other religious services at Carlton Chapel.

The Oulton Chapel (Mutford Bridge) was opened for public worship on Tuesday, the 12th of September.  Mr. Miller preached in the afternoon; then afterwards a public tea in the chapel was held, and addresses given in the evening.  The services at this house of prayer are still continued, and many have found them “times of refreshing from the presence of the Lord.”

An inquest was held at the “Wherry” Inn, on the 25th August, before F. B. Marriott, Esq., on the body of William Codling, aged 16 years, who was drowned by the upsetting of a boat in Oulton Dyke, on Tuesday, August 22nd, 1865.  Here are again some of the joys and sorrows that beset and bestrew our pathway.  A company of young lads think themselves competent to manage a sailing boat, but coming home at night the boat upset, its occupants were immersed in the water, and one of the party drowned.

Among the events noted down of this year, 1866, the death of Ann Challis, my wife’s youngest sister took place.  She had been afflicted for several years, and died on the evening of the 22nd January.  On the same evening, Charles Cutler was accidently drowned in Oulton Broad, he having kept the beer-house at Carlton, near Mr. Bullard’s shop several years.  Their bodies were buried on Sunday, January 28th—my sister in law, at Oulton, and Mr. Cutler at Carlton Colville, and on the 31st of December of the same year, died Elizabeth, his wife, so that in their deaths they were not long divided.

Mr. John Burton, of Lowestoft, fell down his stairs on the night of Sunday, August 19th, and was so fearfully injured that he died within ten hours afterwards.

Dangers stand thick through all our paths,
To push us to the tomb.

The harvest of this year was generally begun on the 13th of August, and it was rather showery during the remainder of the month, yet we had some bright days, so that the wheat was secured in good condition, but it was very wet during the month of September.  Wednesday, the 5th, was the only day in that week suitable for barley carting, and then it rained at six o’clock in the evening.  Thursday, 13th, was the next fine day; men were employed in lifting and preparing the corn for carting, only to be followed by a heavy rain next morning, so that the only day in that week for carting was Saturday, and then it again rained by six o’clock in the evening.  Patience and prayers are needed.

The harvest-home festival was unusually late, owing to the unfavourable state of the weather.  The corn could not be carried before Thursday, September 27th, yet there is still great cause for thanks that the corn is secured, that provision is made for our returning winter, and that our Heavenly Father is good and merciful still, although we are so prone to murmur.

January, 1867, arrives with its abundance of frost and immense blocks of drifting snow.  Two or three of my old neighbours are removed by death in quick succession—Archer Beales, the elder, on January 5th, aged 74; the wife of Robert Newbury was called home, January 12th; and John Cox, my wife’s father, died on the 19th January, aged 76 years, and buried on Sunday, 27th, having lived a widower 19 years and 11 months.  Thus Death is commissioned to remove us, from the Prince Consort, in the palace, to the peasant in his humble cot.  At this time, also, is stricken down my old neighbour and friend, George Mobbs, a man of strict integrity, who served with me in the office of parish constable, having removed to Mutford, and, after having lived there five months, died, and was brought to Oulton, and buried on Sunday, the 10th March.  Then, again, at Lowestoft, Sergeant Hargraves, drill-instructor, is walking out on Sunday evening, the 5th May, when he was suddenly taken ill and died, at the age of 41 years, calling to us, who are survivors of these painful events, that the ways of Jehovah are far above our finite and limited conception.

A sad event occurred in the spring of this year by the upsetting of a boat on Oulton Broad.  On Good Friday, April 10th, 1868, a party of three young men engaged a boat, that they might amuse themselves upon the water.  The wind on that day became strong, and, themselves unskilful in managing it, very soon overturned, and all were immersed in the water, two of them—James Ellis Fisk and John Knights—both aged 18, were drowned.  It was a sad spectacle the jury were called to view, as they were laid side by side, prepared for burial.  Their life had vanished as a dream, when one awaketh.

My two new cottages were built this year; they were begun on Thursday, the 5th March, and in due time were completed.  This was a remarkably hot and dry summer, as by a note to hand:

There has been a very long drought, June passing almost without rain.  A little fell on the 2nd., and now we are arrived at the 17th of July, and on this day it has pleased God, in His mercy, to command the rain to descend in abundance, with a sharp tempest, the two previous days having been very hot.

The harvest was generally begun on the 24th of July, and at Mr. Barnard’s farm, at Carlton, the whole of the corn was gathered in by the 30th of that month, and the harvest-home festival celebrated at Oulton, on the 20th August.

My wife’s only brother, who had been suffering from consumption for a long time, died October 8th at Lowestoft, aged 46 years, leaving a widow and four children to mourn their bereavement.  We took the second boy under our charge, and kept him seven years.  During that interval, his two brothers had died, and only him and his sister was left.  Edmund Challis, my wife’s sister’s husband, was killed by a loaded carriage passing over his body on the 17th of February, 1869, surviving his first wife only three years.  We know not what a day may bring forth.  I happened to meet that poor man coming from Lowestoft with the loaded wagon, and he was then riding, not thinking that would be the last time that I should see him, but it proved to be so, and he is gone.  There is a piece of ground adjoining my garden, containing about 40 perches, and belonging to Mr. Knights.  That gentleman was willing to treat with me as to the purchase of the same, and we agreeing, I became the purchaser thereof for £45, and had the pump put down thereon in the month of May, having found, and still continuing to find a good supply of pure water—thanks to the Giver of all good.  It is delightful to live and walk in the shining of God’s countenance; but to die in the light and consolation of his presence is the crowning mercy of all.  How gracious is the Holy Spirit of Promise to shine away the doubts and fears of His people, and put them to bed by daylight!  O, may it be more and more my privilege to taste the sweetness of His love, rise into a nearer conformity to His image; enjoy closer communion with Him, and experience an increasing sense of his never-failing faithfulness, and catch a glimpse of that page in the Book of Life, whereon is written my unworthy name.

The year of 1870 brings with it many incidents peculiar to our position.  “Man walketh in a vain shadow.”  On February 7th, Mr. Robert Morris, a chemist at Lowestoft, and one, who when young, attended at the same school with myself (Mr. Goodwin’s, at Laxfield) died at the age of 59.  Thus my old schoolfellows are receding from view.  I know not now where to find half a dozen.  O, let me be thankful for the mercies bestowed upon me.  We had very little rain from the first Monday in May to the last Saturday in June.  My old neighbour, John Adams, who had served his generation, by the will of God, fell asleep on the 14th day of July, and was gathered to his rest at the age of 85 years.  The harvest was generally begun on the 12th August, but the weather was very fickle.  A thunderstorm came on the night of Thursday, 18th, and from that time to the end of the following week, we had rain every day, and on Sunday, 28th, as much rain fell as had fallen during the week previous, so that rain continued, with slight intermission for 12 days, and harvest was scarcely concluded by September 8th, the celebration of the harvest-home of that year.

An inquest was held at the Wherry Inn, on the 23rd day of August, before Dr. Pearson, on the body of James Gibbs, aged 12 years, who was drowned by the breaking of a hook rope on board a wherry, sailing on Oulton Broad, on Saturday, August 20th.  This was but a short course, from the cradle to the grave, from suffering and from sin, for ever emancipated.  “Teach me, O Lord, the way of Thy statutes, and make me keep it unto the end, and by Thy grace cause me to finish the work thou hast given me to do.”

Mr. Edward Leathes, of Normanstone, was called away by death on the 11th February, 1871—the day after a great snowstorm—aged 75.

Having secured the piece of ground before-mentioned, and settled all demands for the same, in which my wife concurred, and assisted, and having made and executed a will, making everything that I possessed over to her for her own use, benefit, and enjoyment, the same being duly attested by Henry Bull and his wife, matters having been thus satisfactorily arranged, I afterwards suggested to my wife, in sincere fidelity, that if she could and would supply twenty pounds, I would do the rest, and build thereon a nice cottage, and she should have the full power to do with it as to choosing her own tenants, and other matters in connection therewith, as long as she should live.  My proposal was indignantly rejected, the motive was grieviously maligned and aspersed.  I drove on heavily, as if my wheels were impeded.  Nevertheless I borrowed £25 of a friend, and built a cottage, and let it to a tenant for a time, and the scene here changes.

An inquest was held at the Wherry Inn, on the 15th August, before Dr. Pearson, deputy-coroner, on the body of George Copsey Nelson who was drowned while bathing in Oulton Broad on Sunday, August 13th.  There is something very striking in connection with this inquest.  One of the jurors—Horace Martin—as now investigating a case of drowning, was himself drowned in the same piece of water before 12 months had passed away.

I have stated that £25 were borrowed from a friend.  I never had anything to do in connection with loan societies.  I remember to have heard an observation from our late County Court Judge: “I wonder,” said he, “the people can be so gulled; no sooner do you fail in paying the instalments, for which you have contracted, when down comes the office upon the sureties, and if the money is not forthcoming, your property is seized, and get out of it as you can, no matter how.”

I will note down here the speedy departure of a few of my female neighbours:—Mrs. James Knights died March 6th; Mrs. William Jacobs died March 27th; Mrs. John Drake died May 24th; Mrs. John Knights died June 2; Mrs. Nursey, “Boar” Inn, died July 10th; Mrs. Stevens died July 21st, aged 56.  The above were all taken from us in 1871, with many others.

Another inquest was held at the “Wherry” Inn, on the 27th day of July, 1872, before Mr. F. B. Marriott, coroner, on the body of Horace Martin, who was accidently drowned by falling from his yacht, on the 25th.  How soon the scene changes.  A few days before all was anticipated—happiness and pleasure, the charms and attractions of the smooth lake, swiftly gliding along in his frail skiff, unconscious of the swiftness of time, and the sadness which not unfrequently terminates this mortal life, and then those precious opportunities which have been so often disregarded and wasted, are gone for ever.  The above afflictive bereavement was too great to be supported by the widow.  She also died during the following year.  “Watch, for ye know not when the time is.”

The public auction of Mr. Townsend’s effects came off on the 2nd of January, 1873, that gentleman having died a month previous, November 30th.  Mr. Thomas Goff, my old master of harvest, died three weeks later, December 20th.

Again the Coroner held an inquest at the same inn.  This time it was on the body of Joseph Knights son of William Goldsmith, who was accidentally drowned the previous day from a boat on Oulton Broad.

By reason of some cross shooting, that have to a certain extent prevailed, since the cottage was erected, I felt resolved to dispose of the first built ones—the six by the road, with the little one at the back with the gardens, retaining the last purchase and cottage thereon, to be for the benefit of my wife, in the event of her being the survivor, she should not be left destitute.  I submitted my burden first to the Lord, from whom I sought direction.  I weighed and pondered over it again and again.  Then I resolved to consult Mr. Chater, a solicitor at Lowestoft, as to the expediency of a sale, or an annuity, and which of the two would be most preferable.  As it was not prudent to proceed in too much haste, that gentleman required a week for consideration of the matter, and then at the expiration of that time the same subject could be renewed.  During the interval, I made known to my wife what was in contemplation.  It was treated very tamely, as being viewed by one taking a casual glance from a distant standpoint, as if the near approach and investigation was far beneath the attention of one who could for the time being stand aloof, ready to command an immediate surrender, when, as then thought the proper time had arrived, or should do so.  Eventually, at my next interview with Mr. Chater, proposals were made as to taking the property off my hands, which were by me accepted.  And, although for the last few years, property of that description have risen in value in the neighbourhood, of that I am glad.  Yet representations have gone forth which have tended to work prejudice and mischief.  I am willing to bend to all these drawbacks, and at present have never had the least cause to regret, but am thankful.  This, then, I take to be one of the roads opened to me to walk therein, and in so walking cannot I see the good hand of my God, for good, for tranquility, after the bustle and perplexity and cares of business in obtaining my daily bread; and permitted, also, at times to partake of that bread which endureth unto eternal life.  Here, then, is the comfort in finding the passage to the grave not only smoother, but the mind more comforted, being drawn off from worldly cares and attractions, and, while so favoured, I can think of my fallen condition, my original depravity from which there is no deliverance, except by the free grace of the Father, and the imputed righteousness of a sacrificed Redeemer.  This leads me to prize the bloodshedding, the obedience, and intercession of the Lord Jesus Christ, the second Adam, the Lord from heaven, who has come to repair the ruins of the first, and to insist that “except a man be born again he cannot see the kingdom of God.”

An inquest was held on Saturday, the 6th day of June, 1874, before F. B. Marriott, Esq., at the late residence of Charles Goldsmith, who had hanged himself in his barn the preceding day.

I am now thinking of relinquishing my business as a boot and shoemaker, but not in the manner that poor miserable creature has done, who is mentioned above.  I never felt envious at that kind of prosperity with which he was encompassed, but am preserved and defended even from my youth up, so that I can boldly say the Lord is my helper, and He is my strong defence, and I trust will be so even to the end of my course, which cannot be far distant, but soberness and vigilance are still needful lest the enemy of our souls obtain advantage.  I need not indulge in idleness—a good deal of labour is required to bring my newly acquired ground into cultivation.  Here is the fence to be planted, a living fence inside, and a wain fence of nine inches outside, which space I have a right to claim.  This, of which I am now speaking, is the westernmost fence, and is getting up nicely.  Then there were also barrows full of dandelions to extirminate, and the grass to bury deeply; the potatoes to plant and mould up that they might be productive, and many other kinds of garden work to perform, all in keeping with a healthful and, to some extent, remunerative occupation: and thus the time glided on.

I have not much to record this year (1875) although many mercies have been accorded to me, a good state of health, and privileged to have intercourse with friends, some of them being at a great distance, and very probably shall behold them no more in the flesh, yet we are privileged to serve the same God, “one God and Father of all,” ever ready to hear petitions and grant requests.  There has lately been some irregularities practised by two of the members of the Pakefield Friendly Society in my district.  An enquiry was set on foot, the charge made against them was proved, and the consequence was that they were both expelled, and all monies heretofore paid were forfeited to the use of the Society.

Old neighbour Sarah Bales died on the 17th January, having survived her husband eight years.  The good Lord grant us pardon for our offences, for we lift up our souls unto Thee.  Cast us not away from Thy presence, take not Thy holy spirit from us, but direct our hearts into Thy love, and our feet in the way of thy testimonies.  Whether we eat or drink, or whatsoever we do, may we do all to the glory of God, and walk as seeing Him that is invisible, and may God be the strength of my heart, the guide of my goings, and my portion for ever and ever, amen.

Another inquest was held by the same coroner, on the 15th May, 1875, on the body of James Paston, who was accidentally drowned in Oulton Dyke, from off his wherry, the preceding day.  “Ye know not when the time is.”

There is no doubt but that every believer has his winter seasons of providential afflictions and of spiritual distress.  Yet if the God of love is ever peculiarly near to his people for good, it is when His arrows stick fast in them, and when His hand presseth them sore, and at the time appointed their consolations return as the clear shining after rain, and theirs is as the sun when it goeth forth in its might, the flowers appear on the earth, the time of the singing of the birds has come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land—the peace of God.

The next inquest took place on Friday, the 20th day of August, at the “Lady of the Lake” Hotel, before Mr. William Ebden, deputy-coroner, on the body of Charles Everitt, aged eleven years, who was accidentally drowned by the capsizing of a sailing boat on Oulton Broad, on the afternoon of Wednesday, August 18th, 1875.  How frail the youth, how short the date.

As I have but little to record as regards my own experience during this year (1876), I sit down and ponder over a paragraph of Dr. Dick’s Celestial Scenery.  He says:—“There is no contrivance in the system more wonderful than the rings of Saturn.  That these rings should be separated thirty thousand miles from the body of the planet, that they should, notwithstanding, accompany the planet in its revolution round the sun, preserving invariably the same distance from it, that they should revolve round the planet every ten hours at the immense velocity of more than a thousand miles in a minute, and that they should never fly off to the distant regions of space, nor fall down upon the planet, are circumstances which required adjustments far mere intricate and exquisite than we can conceive, and demonstrate that the Almighty Contriver of that stupendous Appendage to the globe of Saturn is ‘great in counsel and mighty in operation.’  Yet these adjustments, in whatever they may consist, have been completely effected.  For this planet has been flying through the regions of space in a regular curve for thousands of years, and the system of its satellites and rings still remains as at its first creation.”

Mr. George Cox, the last of my wife’s uncles, died at Lowestoft on the 9th day of April, 1877, aged 71 years, having survived his wife eleven years and five months: “they desired a better country.”  The memory of the mother and father is sweet to surviving children, and we will tread softly on their graves.  The first that was called away experienced severe affliction for many years, but patiently endured to the end of her course.  “If ye endure chastening God dealeth with you as with sons.”—Hebrews xii, 7.

Of the father, it might be said when the appointed time had arrived, the summons was executed more speedily.  After only three days severe illness, although favoured with consciousness even to the last.  On the morning of that day, April 9th, he made this observation to his daughter.  “My dear I’m going to leave you, but Christ will be with you.”  During the day a dear friend came in, and in conversation suggested, “Mr. Cox the pearly gates are ajar for you,” he smilingly replied, “not ajar, they stand wide open”; then singing “There are Angels hovering round,” and “Rock of Ages cleft for me” for me.  Again he said to his beloved daughter, “My dear this is victory over death: I am passing over the river dry shod, my end is peace, Jesus hath wiped away all tears.”  Then urging all to love Jesus and meet him in heaven, he requested all present to kneel in earnest and humble prayer around his bed, and afterwards raising his hands calmly replied “I am coming, I am coming,” and his happy spirit took its flight to be for ever with the Lord.  “Wherefore comfort one another with these words.”

Charles Flaxman, another of my old neighbours, died at Lowestoft on the above date, April 9th, 1877.  And also yet another taken in the same week, Mrs. Sarah Morris (late Suggate,) fell down the stairs in her house, and was afterwards found quite dead.  But the most joyous testimony is, they all died in the faith, and through that grace having obtained a good report, have now entered into possession of what they here held in reversion, a promise of the life to come.  The children of God have sometimes comfortable anticipations of the glory that shall be revealed when faith pierces within the veil, whither Jesus our forerunner is gone before, and as in the language of the spies of old, “We have seen the land and behold it is very good, when shall we go up and take possession.”  “When shall we get through the desert.”

Mr. John Knights, of whom I had bought my piece of land, died December 2nd, 1877.

When shall we receive the end of our faith, even the full salvation of our souls?  How long, O Lord, holy and true? why tarry the wheels of thy chariot? return unto thy rest, O my soul, the Lord deals bountifully.

Inquest held at the “Lady of the Lake” Inn, on the body of Emily Charlotte, daughter of William Scarll, aged 5 years, who was mortally injured by the wheel of a cart passing over her body, on the 12th of August, 1878, during a sharp thunderstorm, she died on the 18th, and the inquest was held on the 20th, before C. W. Chaston, Esq., coroner.  The parents are sorrowful.

“When virtuous sorrow clouds the face,
And tears bedim the eye;
The soul is led to solemn thought,
And wafted to the sky.”

The new board school was opened May 27th of this year, Mr. Gray, master.

James Knights, the elder, died the latter end of May.  His son John died on the 2nd of August, aged 56 years; he had been for many weeks afflicted.  My good old neighbour, Mrs. Phebe Adams, died at Yarmouth, at the house of her younger son Alfred, on the 16th of October, aged 86 years (this was the fortieth anniversary of my marriage).  She was brought to Oulton and laid beside her husband who had died eight years earlier.  Mr. Woolterton (called Dr.) had resided here about twenty years, and departed this life on the 17th of October, aged 32 years, and was buried at Oulton.  Two more of my neighbours are called away: David Bullen, on the 15th of August, 1879, aged 82 years, after a long affliction; and also Mrs. High, on the 21st of August, also after years of suffering, aged 78 years.  “Thou turnest man to destruction, again thou sayest come again ye children of men.”

During the autumn of the past year Mr. Robertson and his tenant built sheds and piggeries adjoining my dwelling.  I stated my disapproval thereof, and requested that a course of bricks should be put up, as nothing short of that would keep me quiet, as rats from his side had found their way under the floor of my bedroom.  He did not meet my views, and I thereupon told Mr. Robertson I should take down my wall and it would be placed twenty-one inches from his line of boundary; and so it came to pass for on the 29th of April, 1879, I proceeded to take down the wall and built another more substantial, and now the rats are kept back from troubling on my side, and having raised my roof and made chambers over, I have not regretted the inflexibility of my neighbour, for although he has fixed boarding to intercept my view on that side, yet there is plenty of light and air from the other, and the additional conveniences more than compensate for the outlay, and thus we see working for good many things that at a first glance wears a very unfavourable aspect.  My dear wife has fallen into a state of affliction, and is being attended by Mr. Smith, of Carlton.  She is able to get about, but almost shattered by a dreadful wrecking cough, her niece came to attend upon her, but it soon became evident that her end was approaching as the medicines and applications had but little effect.  Early on Sunday morning the 3rd of August, a dreadful thunderstorm came on; being greatly alarmed I sprang up in sleep and asked the poor sufferer what was it that had fallen down, she replied that nothing had fallen but that it was a sharp tempest.  It proved to be indeed severe, the Church at Wells, in Norfolk, was struck and wrecked at the same time.  She lived exactly four weeks after that event, lingering on until the morning of Sunday, the 31st of August, at half-past four o’clock, when she breathed her last, having been married forty years and ten months, twenty-seven years of which she had been mistress of the village school, which office she relinquished when the newly-established board school came into operation, in May of the preceding year.  Another of my neighbours, Hannah Patrick, died suddenly two days after my wife, her husband, William, surviving her about six months, when he also died and was brought from London and buried.  On the 6th of January, 1880, two other of my aged neighbours were called away: Richard Rowe, many years station master here, and John Pinkney who lived and died near the church, where his body now rests.  Another visitation befel the town of Wells, a terrible gale occurred on the 29th of October, the lifeboat had gone off to the attempted rescue of a vessel in distress, that boat capsized and nearly all its occupants were drowned, beside a great many others who were cut off by the violence of the storm, among the latter was one whom we called Captain Hiles, whom I had many times met in the house of prayer, when he was ashore, and on the last Sabbath of his life was engaged in exhorting sinners and warning them to fly to Jesus for pardon and salvation.

The few weeks with which the past year closed were remarkably mild, and sometimes pleasant gentleness marked the passing year.  The year 1881 was ushered in mild, and we were beginning to think that the time for sharp weather was getting past for the season, when lo! on the 18th of January, a violent gale from the east with almost blinding snow set in during the evening, the intensity of the frost was almost unparalleled, almost to freeze the blood in the veins of those who were exposed to its fury.  Deplorable was the destruction and loss of life on the Eastern coast; at Yarmouth the lifeboat was capsized, and nearly all her brave men drowned, together with a shipwrecked sailor whom they had taken off from a stranded vessel.  The visitation will be long and sorrowfully remembered by the inhabitants of Yarmouth and its vicinity.  Before the month had passed away and while many embankments of snow continued even after the thaw had set in, another of my neighbours, George Bullen, the eldest son of David, is called to his rest, on the 26th of January.  He had been many months afflicted, and during his long illness many prayers were offered to the Lord on his behalf, that he might obtain pardon and peace and lively hope through our Lord Jesus Christ, which we believe was realized.

During the second month of this year, 1881, the elder Mrs. Wright who had resided in Oulton more than thirty years, died on the 13th of February, at the advanced age of 86 years.  During the third month of this year, the elder Mrs. Susan Farman died, on the 9th day of March, aged 79 years, having resided in Oulton fifty years.  “The Lord’s portion is his people.”

During the fourth month another of my elder neighbours was called away, Francis Harper, having resided in Oulton about forty years, a quiet, good, honest, and honourable man; served his generation by the will of God, fell on sleep March the 15th.  Another neighbour, Mrs. Elizabeth Reynolds, wife of Thomas, who with her husband were the only unbroken pair that were living as paired when I was married, all the other pairs were broken or swept away.  Mrs. Reynolds died on the 2nd of April, aged 76 years.

Next, here is a record of an honourable marriage, which is worthy of note, April 7th, at the Congregational Chapel, Beccles, by the Pastor, J. Calvert, assisted by S. B. Driver, pastor of the Congregational Chapel, Lowestoft, Mr. M. Hinde, of Lowestoft, to Louisa, daughter of the late James Read, farmer and valuer of Laxfield, Suffolk.

The Earl of Beaconsfield, a distinguished statesman, who had filled the high and honourable office of Prime Minister of England, and confidential adviser of Her Majesty, died in London, April 19th, at the age of 75 years, a large profusion of flowers being dropt upon his tomb.

Appendix.

In the year 1877, the Pakefield Friendly Society came to an end, having fought its way fifty-two years, and having survived the Vicar of Lowestoft fourteen years.  Mr. Cunningham had from the first taken a deep interest in that institution, and greatly contributed to its prosperity.

I was proposed and accepted as one of its stewards in 1840, and continued to serve the office until its dissolution (37 years), the funds then being distributed among the members in sums ranging from £2 12s. 8d., to £20 13s. 8d., about 155 members partaking of this final benefit, although I am not sure they were all satisfied, yet the various awards were carried out very fair and impartially.  As to myself I received a present from the directors, through Mr. Seppings, the secretary and that Gentleman also made me a money present.  I resolved therewith to buy some books in remembrance of the above Society, that I might read them in days to come, among others I purchased “Goldsmith’s Vicar of Wakefield,” and on reading it came across some of the chapters which I remembered to have read nearly sixty years before, and do not recollect meeting with the book in all that long interval, although I had seen it advertised.  I thought I would one day catch hold of it.  The above work is said to be “a domestic epic.”  Its hero is a country parson, simple and pious in his way, a little vain of his learning, and a little proud of his fine family.  Domestic joys and cares surround the parsonage, then in turn comes sorrow and suffering, storms from the outer world invade its holiness and trouble its peace.  Then comes sorrow and suffering, and we behold the hero, like the patriarchal prince of the land of Uz, when the Lord “put forth is hand and touched all that he had,” meeting each new affliction with meekness patience and resignation; rising from each trial with renewed reliance upon God, until the lowest depth of his earthly suffering becomes the highest elevation of his moral strength, preminently conspicious by the indwelling and powerful influence of God’s Holy Spirit,

“This is the grace that lives and sings,
When other comforts cease.”

I remember in early life in the year 1816, at the time I attended school, a great festival was held in commemoration of the triumph of Waterloo.  I carried home from school an invitation card to my parents, which ran thus (after naming) “you are invited to appear at the table at one o’clock on — day next, perfectly neat, with your family, and bring your half-pint mug, plate, knife and fork.”

The invitations were well received, the festival was truly appreciated, the plum puddings and other good things were greatly enjoyed, a long length of painted calico extended from one large tree to another, with these mottoes in large letters, “Peace to Europe,” “Glory to God,” “Deliverance to Mankind.”  I remember also to have had a printed paper exhibited in front of my cap with the ominous words “Peace and Plenty.”

But perhaps the crowning scene of that day’s festivities was the effigy of the fallen Emperor of France, seated on a chair, secured prominently upon the roof of Ben Thompson’s cottage, in an attitude of sorrow, with his Hessian boots to the knee, his cocked hat on his head, the uniform of a superior commanding officer, with white handkerchief to his eyes, and looking the picture of fallen greatness, no longer to dictate laws to an infatuated and misguided people, whose time of reckoning had come.

The spring of 1854 was remarkably dry, no rain came during the months of March and April, many farmers could not get their corn in, and those who did so it could not germinate, by reason of the long continued drought.  It was a serious onlook when the grass by the roadside was covered with dust and withering; the wind fresh and sharp from the northeast, week after week, sometimes a little moisture came resembling mildew, and altogether we seemed to be in a serious plight; in this emergency on one calm evening in the early part of May, I went into the field just across from my dwelling, turned to the fence where the railroad has since been made, and there knelt down and besought the Lord that he would be merciful to our transgressions, be favourable to our land, forgive our iniquities, though we had sinned against Him, yet spare us good Lord, O send us the so much-needed rain, and be not angry with us for ever.

The wind began to freshen and blow from another quarter, the vanes of the windmill began to creak and turn round, the sails thereof quickly went about from the north east to the south, and in the short space of twenty four hours, which was on the 9th of May, the earth was abundantly watered.  Here then was manifested the bestowment of a great blessing in answer to prayer.

I had noted it down as a glorious rain, and I will also add the position of the mill was changing before I rose from off my knees.  But I have always considered there were many others who were so engaged, whose petitions moved the hand that moves the world.

I am also reminded being now upon the subject of prayer, that during the year 1849, that fearful epidemic called the cholera, had again visited our country; it was computed that more than fourteen thousand were carried off by its virulence in London, and coming nearer home great alarm prevailed in Lowestoft and other places at the approach of such a visitation, many were cut off in this latter place, among whom were Mrs. John Capps, and also one of her married daughters, Mrs. Cooper, both of whom it is believed were prepared for the solemn change.  I had on one occasion feared that it had visited my cottage; my poor wife was attacked in bed with fearful pain, she complained of its violence and concluded it was an attack of cholera.  I arose and brought to hand what we had in order to alleviate the pain, and then exhorted her to pray to God that he would be merciful unto us for Jesus Christ’s sake, I also knelt down by the bedside and prayed for mercy on behalf of the sufferer.  The good Lord heard our joint petitions and after a not very long time, relief came, the pain abated, and our thankful hearts were attuned to praise the Lord, and the life of the sufferer was not merely lengthened out fifteen years as was good Hezekiah’s after his afflictions, but exactly that number twice told.  “The Lord is merciful and gracious, abounding in compassion unto such as fear and adore and reverence his great and holy name.”  This morning, Sunday, May the 8th, one of the first thoughts that entered my mind was a sentence referring to rest, and for a time seemed to wonder if it was a quotation contained in God’s Holy Word, when while I was dressing it came into my mind that it is the language of St. Paul to the church at Thessalonica, and so it proved, 2 Thess. i. 6, 7.  “Seeing it is a righteous thing with God to recompense tribulation to them that trouble you, and to you who are troubled, rest with us.”  This is then a joyful communication imparted to every one who can appreciate the comfort of it, and it is an uncontroverted fact that all God’s children here in this time-state, shall have persecution of various kinds: of vituperations, of false accusation, and almost every other kind of unrest, but the apostle’s motto is “rest with us.”

In conclusion I desire to feel thankful to my Heavenly Father, by whose favour health has been continued, and although my eyesight is becoming very much impaired, and my hand almost inflexible, yet I have endeavoured to state a plain narrative of facts, not entirely as mere passing events, at which one might cast a casual glance and then continue to journey on the other side, affording no sympathy to our afflicted fellow-creatures in seasons of grief and distress.  I am here reminded that I lost a sister-in-law by death: Maria, the wife of John Garner, of Lowestoft, on the nineteenth of July, 1858, aged 40 years.  Also more recent by death, one of my own sisters, Charlotte, the wife of James Lines, of Hoxne, born December 1st, 1810, died December 21st, 1880.  May the Spirit of God stir up the heart of the writer of these lines, as well as the readers thereof, to a fuller sense of the love of Him, “who though he was rich, yet for our sakes became poor, that we through his poverty might be rich.”  Henceforth let us not be weary in well doing, but be “followers of them who through faith and patience inherit the promise.”  “Now our Lord Jesus Christ himself and God, even our Father, who hast loved us and hath given us everlasting consolation, and good hope, through grace, comfort your hearts and stablish you in every good word and work,” so will I sing praise unto thy name for ever and ever, Amen.

George S. Cook, Nelson Printing Works, Lowestoft.

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Table of Contents

- Interesting Incidents Connected with the Life of GEORGE BICKERS,

- Appendix.

- THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE