The shepherd of Salisbury Plain. Part I.

The Lancashire Collier Cirl. A TRUE STORY.

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IN a small village in Lancashire there li|ved a few years ago, an industrious man and his wife, who had six children. The man himself used to work in a neighbour|ing colliery, while the wise took care of the family, attended also to their little farm, and minded the dairy, and when all her other work was done, she used 〈…〉〈…〉 to sit down to spin. It 〈…〉〈…〉 supposed that the children 〈…〉〈…〉 a moth••r, even when very young, 〈◊〉〈◊〉

not suffered to be idle. The eldest daugh|ter worked with the mother at the spinning-wheel, which she learnt to think a very pleasant employment, and she sometimes accompanied her work with a cheerful hymn, or a good moral song, which her parents had taken care to teach her.

But the second daughter of the name of Mary is the chief subject of the present story: when this girl was nine years old, the honest collier finding that he had but little employment for her above ground, took her to work with him down in the coal-pit together with one of his boys, who was then no more than seven years of age. These two children readily put their strength to the basket; dragging the coals from the workmen to the mouth of the pit; and by their joint labours they did the duty of one of those men, who are commonly called "the drawers," clearing thereby no less than seven shil|lings a week for their parents. It must be owned to be not impossible, that they may have sometimes exerted themselves even beyond their strength; which is now and then the case with little children, through the fault of those who 〈◊〉〈◊〉 act the work from them; but since in ••his case

the father had an eye to them during the hours of labour, while they had a prudent and tender mother also, to look after them at home, there is no particular reason to suppose, that at the time of which we are now speaking, they were ever much o|ver-worked.

Here then let us stop to remark how different was the case of this numerous family from that of many others, in the same humble situation of life. Mary and her brother, so far from being a burthen, were bringing a little fortune to their pa|rents, even when they were eight or ten years old; all the family were getting forward by the help of these little crea|tures, and their worldly comforts were now increasing on every side.

But alas! in the midst of this cheerful and contented diligence, on one fatal day, while the good man was in the act of fix|ing a basket, in order to its being wound up, the children standing near him in the coal-pit, some stones fell from the top of the pit, one of which fell on the father's head, and killed him on the spot. What a melancholy event was this! some dismal circumstances also remain to be told, which were the consequences of it; but in order

to relieve the pain of my reader, I will here remark, that the most grievous afflictions are often appointed by providence, to be the means, in one way or other, of calling some extraordinary virtue into exercise; and accordingly we shall see that the calamity which is now spoken of, will introduce Mary, the young collier girl, to the farther good opinion of the reader.

The mother, on hearing the news of her husband's death, together with the descrip|tion of the sad accident which gave occa|sion to it, received such a shock, that her mind was not able to bear up under it; she became disordered in her understanding, nor did she to the end of her life recover her senses. Being now rendered extreme|ly helpless, she was separated from her children by the parish officers, who con|tinued to take the charge of her for the space of five years. A short time after the father's death, the eldest daughter, (the spinner) married, and went from home; two of the brothers, (of the ages of nine and seven,) were bound apprentices by the parish, which also took the charge of two others, (one three years old, the other an infant) until they should be sufficiently grown up to be bound out also.

In this place I cannot avoid observing, what a blessing it is to poor people in this country, that parish officers are obliged, in all such cases of necessity as that of which I am now speaking, to give maintainance to those, who apply to them, and what a pity it is that this wise and merciful provision of our laws should ever be abused. Mary, the girl of whom we are giving the history, ha|ing been already trained to industry, was by no means disposed to seek any unneces|sary help from the parish, and being now between eleven and twelve years old, she determined to maintain herself, like a lit|tle independent woman, by her usual work in the coal pit, where she was generally a|ble after this time to earn at least a shil|ling a day; in three or four years after|wards earning no less than two shillings. And now I would ask my young female readers, what they think was the manner in which she employed all this fruit of her industry? Do you imagine that she laid it out in vanity of dress, in nice eating and drinking, or other needless expence? or do you suppose that she would now indulge herself in idleness on one or two days in the week, because she had got enough for

herself to live upon during the four or five working days? no: I trust you will have formed no such expectation: I hope you will be well aware what Mary did with her money, by having already reflected what you would have done with it in the like case. She in the first place released the parish from the burthen of maintaining her mother, which she did as soon as she was arrived at the age of sixteen, being ex|tremely anxious to take this poor disorder|ed helpless parent home to live with her|self: she then relieved the parish officers from the charge of one of her brothers, and she continued to provide for him, until he died. Having been taught never to con|sider her duty as done, while any part of it seemed to be left undone, she afterwards undertook the maintainance of one of her other brothers, who remained with her du|ring sixteen weeks illness, at the end of which period she followed him to the grave, burying him at her own expence. After a|bout seven years the mother died also, and was buried in like manner by this dutiful child, without any assistance from the pa|rish.

If any of my readers should here in|quire how it could be possible for so young

a child to support all these relations, many of them being also occasionally very bur|thensome through their sickness? the an|swer is, that in the case of these extraor|dinary calls upon her, she used to betake herself to extraordinary labour, sometimes earning no less than three shillings and six-pence in the four and twenty hours, by taking what is called "a double turn" in the coal-pits.

The ready submission of Mary to her parents when she was in early life, is so pleasing a part of her character, that it may be proper in this place again, to make a remark upon it. Let my young readers recollect that in submission to the command of her father, or rather to that law of God which enjoins parental obedi|ence, she cheerfully followed him down into the coal-pit, burying herself in the bowels of the earth, and there at a tender age, without excusing herself on account of her sex, she joined in the same work with the miners, a race of men rough in|deed, but highly useful to the community, of whom I am also happy to say that they have the character of being honest and faithful, as well as remarkably courageous, and that they have given moreover some

striking instances of their readiness to re|ceive religious instruction, when offered to them. Among these men to their ho|nor be it spoken, Mary's virtue was safe, and after the death of her father, she is even said to have received protection, as well as assistance from them; her fatigue having been sometimes lessened, through their lending her a helping hand, with great feeling and kindness.

But though Mary's mind was naturally strong, and her constitution of body was very stout also, yet towards the end of the period which has been spoken of, she be|gan to be bowed down in some measure, by the afflictions and labors which she had endured. It was evident that she had now been led to exert herself beyond her strength. How lamentable is it, that while so many people in the world are idle, and are contracting diseases both of body and mind, from the abundance of their riches, and from want of some wholesome and useful exercise, there should be any bend|ing like Mary, under their work, hidden in coal-pits, or from some cause or other removed from observation! what a pity is it I say, that the former should not employ a little of their time and money in en|deavouring

to find these distressed objects! And I may also add, how lamentable a thing is it, that while so many poor peo|ple are seen, who are apt to complain too soon, there should be any, who do not tell their distresses to those who can help them (which I trust however does not of|ten happen) till it is almost too late!

I was observing that Mary began about this time evidently to lose her strength, and her head was also troubled by some of those strange and unpleasant imaginations, which are known by persons conversant with the diseases of the poor, to be no un|usual consequence of bad food, and great bodily fatigue, joined with excessive grief. At first she was not aware that she labour|ed under any disorder, for she had seldom experienced ill health, while her relations were alive; and it seems probable that the comfort which she derived from the re|flection of affording them support, and the pleasing sensations which arose during the exercise of her attention to them had served both to keep up her spirits, and to prevent her constitution from breaking down.

I trust it is not superstitious to suppose that when sincere christians come, as Ma|ry

now did, into very trying circumstan|ces, they may hope, notwithstanding any appearances to the contrary, to experi|ence still in one way or other, the peculi|ar blessing of Heaven; I do not expect that such persons will be free from pain, pover|ty, or sickness, or other worldly evils, for it is often quite the contrary, but then I be|lieve that these very afflictions will be made the means of encreasing their trust in God, and prove in the end, (I mean ei|ther here or hereafter) to have been en|tirely designed for their good. The cala|mities of Mary were now risen to such a height, that those who are not accustomed to view things in this religious and most comforting light, might be ready to ima|gine that the Almighty had forsaken her, and that there is little use in serving him. Let us here number up her afflictions. She had seen with her own eyes the dread|ful death of her father, she had for a long time witnessed the affecting condition of her mother, who used to follow her about the house, without knowing the hand by which she was supported; Mary, besides this, had attended the long and drooping sickness of her two brothers; and now ha|ving fallen sick herself, being both weak in

body, and sadly enfeebled in her mind, she was dwelling all alone in a little com|fortless habitation, having been deprived by death of every one of those dear rela|tives, the sight of whom had many a time cheered her spirits, while the idea of sup|plying them with a comfortable subsist|ance, had been used to sweeten her em|ployment, and lighten the severity of her toil.

It was at this period of her extremity that it pleased God to raise up for her some kind friends, in the manner which I shall now describe.

A lady of the same village heard that a servant's place was vacant in a neighbour|ing family, and advised Mary, feeble as she was, to present herself there, as a can|didate to fill this comparatively easy and comfortable situation. Accordingly the poor girl, with an anxious heart, went to offer her services; she mentioned with her usual honesty, what had been the habits of her former life, and what was the state of her health also▪ ••t seemed undoubtedly much against her interest to do so, but it was perfectly right; and how can any of us hope for the blessing of God, or expect any true comfort in our minds when we

fall into affliction, if we fly to unfair means of rescuing ourselves out of it; and instead of trusting in God, trust to our own little frauds, and crooked contrivan|ces.

The answer made to Mary's application was unfavourable, for it was thought, and indeed it was gently hinted, that a young woman, hitherto so much exposed as she had been, was not likely to prove a very fit inmate in a sober private family.

Mary felt very keenly this unhappy sus|picion against her character; but what could she do? she walked very quietly away, with a down-cast look, and with a mind quite broken down by this fresh af|fliction and disaster. The owners of the mansion happened however to observe her countenance, and the peculiar modesty of her manner, as she was taking her de|parture, for her patient and silent grief touched them far more sensibly than any loud complaints could have done and they therefore determined to make some in|quiries concerning her. The gentleman went himself on the same day to the colli|ery, where the master of the pit replied to his questions, nearly in the following terms. "Sir, said he, she is a poor girl

that has over-worked herself, for she has undertaken what we call task work, which is very hard labour; she is one of the best girls that ever I knew, and is respect|ed by all the colliers, and though (added he) I cannot deny that now and then my men take a cup too much, which is apt to make the•• sometimes quarrelsome, yet they never suffer a bad 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to be spoken or an affront to be offered to a girl in the pit, without punishing the fellow who may be guilty, and making him heartily ashamed of himself."

This rule of decency and propriety towards young women, established by a set of coarse miners, is here recorded for the benefit of some of those persons, who are pleased to call themselves their betters.

The Gentleman, after a very minute and full exami|nation, was so well satisfied of the good character of Mary, that she was received into his service, in which she has now been living comfortably for about the space of six years. Her health is recovered, her habits of diligence are still very great, and she is said to be of a remarkably modest, humble and contented spirit. It may not be improper to mention, that the master of the house in which she is, has furnished all the materials of this story.

I will now take leave of my readers, by remarking, that the little tale which I have been reciting, seems to me to hold out the following useful lessons.

In the first place, I think it may teach the poor, that they can seldom be in any condition of life so low, as to prevent their rising to some degree of independence, if they chuse to exert themselves, and that there can be no situation whatever so mean, as to forbid the prac|tice of many noble virtues. It may instruct the rich not to turn the poor from their doors, merely on account of first appearances, but rather to examine into their character, expecting sometimes to find peculiar modesty and merit, even in the most exposed situations. This

story also may encourage the afflicted to serve and trust God in every extremity: and finally, it may teach all descriptions of persons, who may have to pass through dangerous and trying circumstances, that they may ex|pect the divine protection and blessing, provided they are not needlessly throwing themselves in the way of temptation, but are endeav••••••ng like Mary

to learn and labour truly to get their own living, and to do their duty in that state of life, unto which it hath pleased God to call them.

FINIS.