THE HISTORY OF TOM WHITE, THE POSTILION.

TOM WHITE was one of the beſt dri⯑vers of a Poſt-chaiſe on the Bath Road.—Tom was the ſon of an honeſt labourer at a little village in Wiltſhire: he was an active induſtrious boy, and as ſoon as he was big enough he left his father, who was burthened with a numerous family, and went to live with Farmer Hodges, a ſober worthy man in the ſame village. He drove the waggon all the week; and on Sundays, though he was now grown up, the farmer required him to attend the Sunday ſchool, carried on under the inſpection of Dr. Shepherd, the worthy Vicar, and always made him read his Bible in the evening after he had ſerved his beaſts, and would have turned him out of his ſervice if he had ever gone to the ale-houſe for his own pleaſure.

[4] Tom by carrying ſome waggon loads of faggots, to the Bear inn at Devizes, ſoon made many acquaintances in the ſtable-yard. He compared his own Carter's frock, and ſhoes thick ſet with nails, with the ſmart red jacket and tight boots of the poſt-boys, and grew aſhamed of his own homely dreſs; he was reſolved to drive a chaiſe, to get money, and to ſee the world. Fooliſh fellow! he never conſidered, that, though it is true, a waggoner works hard all day, yet he gets a quiet evening, and undiſturbed reſt at night. However as there-muſt be chaiſe-boys as well as plough-boys, there was no great harm in the change. The evil company to which it expoſed him, was the chief miſ⯑chief. He left farmer Hodges though not without ſorrow at quitting ſo kind a maſter, and got himſelf hired at the Black Bear.

Notwithſtanding the temptations to which he was now expoſed, Tom's good education ſtood by him for ſome time. At firſt he was frightened to hear the oaths and wickedwords which are too often uttered in a ſtable-yard. However, though he thought it wrong, he had not the courage to reprove it, and the next ſtep to being eaſy at ſeeing others ſin, is to ſin ourſelves. By degrees he began to think it manly, and a mark of ſpirit in others to ſwear; though the force of good habits was ſo ſtrong, that at firſt when he ſwore himſelf it was with [5]fear and in a low voice. But he was ſoon laughed out of his ſheepiſhneſs, as they cal⯑led it; and though he never became ſo pro⯑phane and blaſphemous as ſome of his com⯑panions, (for he never ſwore in cool blood or in mirth as ſo many do,) yet he would too often uſe a dreadful bad word when he was in a paſſion with his horſes. And here I cannot but drop a hint on the great folly as well as wickedneſs of being in a great rage with poor beaſts, who, not having the gift of reaſon, cannot be moved like human crea⯑tures, with all the wicked words that are ſaid to them; but who, unhappily, having the gift of ſeeling, ſuffer as much as human creatures can do, at the cruel and unneceſſary beatings given them. He had been bred up to think that drunkenneſs was a great ſin, for he never ſaw farmer. Hodges drunk in his life, and where a farmer is ſo ſober, his men are leſs likely to, drink, or if they do, the maſter can reprove them with the better grace.

Tom was not naturally fond of drink, yet for the ſake of being thought merry company, and a hearty fellow, he often drank more than he ought. As he had been uſed to go to church twice on a Sunday while he lived with the farmer, who ſeldom uſed his horſes on that day except to carry his wife to church be⯑hind him, Tom felt a little uneaſy when he was ſent the very firſt Sunday a long journey [6]with a great family; for I cannot conceal the truth, that too many gentlefolks [...]ill travel when there is no neceſſity for it on a Sunday, and when Monday would anſwer the end juſt as well. This is a great grief to all good and ſober people, both rich and poor. How⯑ever he kept his thoughts to himſelf, though he could not now and then help thinking how quietly things were going on at the farmer's, whoſe waggoner on a Sunday led as eaſy a life as if he had been a gentleman. But he ſoon loſt all thoughts of this kind, and did not know a Sunday from a Monday. Tom went on proſperouſly, as it is called, for three or four years, got plenty of money, but ſaved not a ſhilling. As ſoon as his horſes were once in the ſtable, whoever would might ſee them fed for Tom.—He had other fiſh to fry.—Fives, cards, cudgel playing, laying wagers, and keeping looſe company, each of which he at firſt diſliked, and then practiſed, ran away with all his money, and all his ſpare time; and though he was generally in the way as ſoon as the horſes were ready, (becauſe if there was no driving there was no pay,) yet he did not care whether the carriage was clean or the horſes looked well, if the harneſs was whole, or the horſes well ſhod. The certainty that the gains of to-morrow would make up for the extravagance of to-day, made him quite thoughtleſs and happy, for he was young, [7]active, and healthy, and never foreſaw that a rainy day might come, when he would want what he now ſquandered.

One day being a little fluſtered with liquor as he was driving his return chaiſe through Brentford, he ſaw juſt before him another empty carriage, driven by one of his ac⯑quaintance: he whipped up his horſes, re⯑ſolving to outſtrip the other, and ſwearing dreadfully that he would be at the Red Lion firſt—for a pint—done, cried the other— a wager—Both out and ſpurred the poor beaſts with the uſual fury, as if their credit had been really at ſtake, or their lives had de⯑pended on this fooliſh conteſt. Tom's chaiſe had now got up to that of his rival, and they drove along-ſide of each other with great fury and many imprecations. But in a narrow part, Tom's chaiſe being in the middle, with his antagoniſt on one ſide, and a cart driving againſt him on the other, the horſes reared, the carriages got entangled, Tom roared out a great oath to the other to ſtop, which he either could not, or would not do, but re⯑turned a horrid imprecation that he would win the wager if he was alive. Tom's horſes took fright and he was thrown to the ground with great violence. As ſoon as he could be got from under the wheels, he was taken up ſenſeleſs; his leg was broke in two places, [8]and his body much bruiſed. Some people whom the noiſe had brought together, put him into the Poſt-chaiſe, in which the wag⯑goner kindly aſſiſted, but the other driver ſeemed careleſs and indifferent, and drove off, obſerving with a brutal coolneſs, "I am ſorry I have loſt my pint; I ſhould have beat him hollow, had it not been for this little accident.? Some gentlemen who came out of the inn, after reprimanding this ſavage, inquired who he was wrote to inform his maſter, and got him diſcharged: reſolving that neither they nor any of their friends would ever employ him, and he was long out of place.

Tom was taken to one of thoſe excellent hoſpitals with which London abounds. His agonies were dreadful, his leg was ſet, and a high fever came on. As ſoon as he was left alone to reflect on his condition, his firſt thought was that he ſhould die, and his horror was in conceivable—"Alas", ſaid he, "what will become of my poor ſoul? I am cut off in the very commiſſion of three great ſins:—I was drunk, I was in a horrible paſſion, and I had oaths and blaſphemies in my mouth."—He tried to pray, but he could not, his mind was all diſtraction, and he thought he was ſo very wicked that God would not forgive him; "becauſe," ſays he.

I have ſinned againſt light and knowledge, [9]and a ſober education, and good examples, and I deſerve nothing but puniſhment."—At length he grew light-headed, and there was little hopes of his life. Whenever he came to his ſenſes for a few minutes, he cried out, "O! that my old companions could now ſee me, ſurely they would take warning by my ſad fate, and repent before it is too late."

By the bleſſing of God on the ſkill of the ſurgeon, and the care of the nurſes, he how⯑ever grew better in a few days. And here let me ſtop to remark, what a mercy it is that we live in a Chriſtian country, where the poor, when ſick, or lame, or wounded, are taken as much care of as any gentry; nay in ſome reſpects more, becauſe in hoſpitals and infirmaries there are more doctors and ſurgeons to attend, than moſt private gentle⯑folks can afford to have at their own houſes, whereas there never was an hoſpital in the whole heathen world. Bleſſed be God for this, among the thouſand other excellent fruits of the CHRISTIAN RELIGION.

It was eight weeks before Tom could be taken out of bed. This was a happy affliction; for this long ſickneſs and ſolitude gave him time to reflect on his paſt life. He began ſeriouſly to hate thoſe darling ſins which had brought him to the brink of ruin. He could now pray heartily; he confeſſed and lament⯑ed [10]his iniquities with many tears, and began to hope that the mercies of God, through the merits of a Redeemer, might yet be ex⯑tended to him on his ſincere repentance. He reſolved never more to return to the ſame evil courſes, but he did not truſt in his own ſtrength, but prayed that God would give him grace for the future, as well as pardon for the paſt. He remembered, and he was humbled at the thought, that he uſed to have ſhort fits of repentance, and to form reſolu⯑tions of amendment, in his wild and thought⯑leſs days, and often when he had a bad head⯑ache after a drinking bout, or had loſt his money at all-fours, he vowed never to drink or play again. But as ſoon as his head was well, and his pockets recruited, he forgot all his reſolutions. And how ſhould it be otherwiſe? for he truſted in his own ſtrength, he never prayed to God to ſtrengthen him, nor ever avoided the next temptation.

The caſe was now different. Tom began to find that his ſtrength was perfect weakneſs, and that he could do nothing without the Di⯑vine aſſiſtance, for which he prayed heartily and conſtantly. He ſent home for his Bible, and Prayer-book, which he had not opened for two years, and which had been given him when he left the Sunday School. He ſpent the chief part of his time in reading them and thus derived great comfort, as well as [11]great knowledge. The ſtudy of the Bible filled his heart with gratitude to God who had not cut him off in the midſt of his ſins, but given him ſpace for repentance; and the ago⯑nies he had lately ſuffered with his broken leg increaſed his thankfulneſs, that he had eſcaped the more dreadful pain of eternal miſery. And here let me remark what en⯑couragement this is for rich people to give away Bibles and good books, and not to loſe all hope, though for a time they ſee little or no good effect from it. According to all ap⯑pearance, Tom's were never likely to do him any good, and yet his generous benefactor who had caſt his bread upon the waters, found it after many days, for this Bible which had lain untouched for years, was at laſt made the means of his reformation. God will work in his own good time.

As ſoon as he got well, and was diſcharged from the hoſpital, Tom began to think he muſt return to get his bread. At firſt he had ſome ſcruples about going back to his old employ: but, ſays he, ſenſibly enough, gentlefolks muſt travel, travellers muſt have chaiſes, and chaiſes muſt have drivers 'tis a very honeſt calling, and I don't know that goodneſs belongs to one ſort of buſineſs more than another; and he who can be good in a ſtate of great temptation, provided the cal⯑ling be lawful, and the temptations are not [12]of his own ſeeking, and he be diligent in pray⯑er may be better than another man for aught I know: and all that belongs to us is to do our duty in that ſtate of life in which it ſhall pleaſe God to call us. Tom had rubbed up his catechiſm at the hoſpital, and 'tis a pity that people don't look at their catechiſm ſometimes when they are grown up; for it is full as good for men and women as it is for children; nay better, for though the anſwers contained in it are intended for children to repeat, yet the duties enjoined in it are in⯑tended for men and women to put in practice.

Tom now felt grieved that he was obliged to drive on Sundays. But People who are in earneſt, and have their hearts in a thing, can find helps in all caſes. As ſoon as he had ſet down his company at their ſtage, and had ſeen his horſes fed, ſays Tom, "A man who takes care of his horſes will generally think it right to let them reſt an hour or two at leaſt. In every town it is a chance but there may be a church open during part of that time. If the prayers ſhould be over, I'll try hard for the Sermon, and if I dare not ſtay to the Sermon, it is a chance but I may catch the prayers; it is worth trying for, however; and as I uſed to make no⯑thing of making a puſh, for the ſake of get⯑ting an hour to gamble, I need not grudge to take a little pains extraordinary to ſerve [13]God. By this watchfulneſs he ſoon got to know the hours of ſervice at all the towns on the road he travelled, and while the horſes fed, Tom went to church; and it became a favourite proverb with him, that prayers and provender hinder no man's journey.

At firſt his companions wanted to laugh and make ſport of this—but when they ſaw that no lad on the road was up ſo early or worked ſo hard as Tom: When they ſaw no chaiſe ſo neat, no glaſſes ſo bright, nor har⯑neſs ſo tight, no driver ſo diligent, ſo clean, or ſo civil, they found he was no ſubject to make ſport at. Tom indeed was very care⯑ful [14]in looking after the linch pins, in never giving his horſes too much water when they were hot; nor, whatever was his haſte, would he ever gallop them uphill, ſtrike them acroſs the head, or when tired, cut and ſlaſh them in driving on the ſtones, as ſoon as he got into a town, as ſome fooliſh fellows do. What helped to cure Tom of theſe bad prac⯑tices, was that remark he met with in the Bible, that a good man is merciful to his beaſt. He was much moved on reading the Prophet Jonah, to obſerve what compaſſion the great God of heaven and earth had for poor beaſts: for one of the reaſons there given, why the Almighty was unwilling to deſtroy the great city of Ninevah was, be⯑cauſe there was much cattle in it. After this, Tom never could bear to ſee a wanton ſtroke inflicted.

Tom ſoon grew rich for one in his ſtation; for every gentleman on the road would be driven by no other lad if careful Tom was to be had. Being diligent, he got a great deal of money; being frugal, he ſpent but little; and having no vices, he waſted none. He ſoon found out that there was ſome meaning in that text which ſays, that. Godlineſs hath the promiſe of the life that now is, as well as of that which is to come: for the ſame prin⯑ciples which make a man ſober and honeſt, have alſo a natural tendency to make him [15]healthy and rich; while a drunkard and a ſpend thrift can hardly eſcape being ſick, and a beggar in the end. Vice is the parent of miſery here as well as hereafter.

After a few years Tom begged a holiday, and made a viſit to his native village; his good character had got thither before him. He found his father was dead, but during his long illneſs Tom had ſupplied him with money, and by allowing him a trifle every week, had had the honeſt ſatisfaction of keeping him from the pariſh. Farmer Hodges was ſtill living, but being grown old and in⯑firm, he was deſirous to retire from buſineſs. He retained a great regard for his old ſervant, Tom; and finding he was worth money, and knowing he knew ſomething of country bu⯑ſineſs, he offered to let him a ſmall, farm at an eaſy rate, and promiſed his aſſiſtance in the management for the firſt year, with the loan of a ſmall ſum of money, that the might ſet out with a pretty ſtock. Tom thanked him with tears in his eyes, went back and took a handſome leave of his maſter, who made him a preſent of a horſe and cart, in acknow⯑led gement of his long and faithful ſervices; for, ſays he, "I have ſaved many horſes by Tom's care and attention, and I could well afford to do the ſame by every ſervant who did the ſame by me; and ſhould be a richer man at the end of every year by the ſame ge⯑neroſity, [16]generoſity, provided I could meet with juſt and faithful ſervants who deſerved the ſame rewards."

Tom was ſoon ſettled in his new farm, and in leſs than a year had got every thing neat and decent about him. Farmer Hodges's long experience and friendly advice, joined to his own induſtry and hard labour, ſoon brought the farm to great perfection. The regularity, ſobriety, peaceableneſs and piety of his daily life, his conſtant attendance at Church twice every Sunday, and his decent and devout behaviour when there, ſoon re⯑commended him to the notice of Dr. Shep⯑herd, who was ſtill living, a pattern of zeal, activity, and benevolence to all pariſh Prieſts. The Dr. ſoon began to hold up Tom, or as we muſt now more properly term him, Mr. Thomas White, to the imitation of the whole pariſh, and the frequent and condeſcending converſation of this worthy Clergyman, con⯑tributed no leſs than his preaching to the im⯑provement of his new pariſhioner.

Farmer White ſoon found out that a dairy could not well be carried on without a miſ⯑treſs and began to think ſeriouſly of marry⯑ing; he prayed to God to direct him in, ſo important a buſineſs. He knew that a tawdry, vain, dreſſy girl, was not likely to make good cheeſe and butter, and that a worldly [17]and ungodly woman would make a ſad wife and miſtreſs of a family. He ſoon heard of a young woman of excellent character, who had been bred up by the vicar's lady, and ſtill lived in the family as upper maid. She was prudent, ſober, induſtrious and religious. Her neat, modeſt, and plain appearance at church, (for ſhe was ſeldom, ſeen any where elſe out of her maſter's family) was an ex⯑ample to all perſons in her ſtation, and never failed to recommend her to ſtrangers, even before they had an opportunity of knowing the goodneſs of her character. It was her character, however, which recommended her to farmer White. He knew that favour is deceitful and beauty is vain, but a wo⯑man that feareth the Lord, ſhe ſhall be praiſed [...]—"aye, and not only praiſed, but choſen too," ſays Farmer White, as he took down bis hat from the nail on which it hung, in order to go and wait on Dr. Shepherd, to break his mind and aſk his conſent; for he thought it would be a very unhand ſome return for all the favours he was receiving from his Miniſter, to decoy away his faithful ſervant from her place without his conſent.

This worthy gentleman, though ſorry to loſe ſo valuable a member of his little family, did not ſcruple a moment about parting with her, when he found it would be ſo greatly to her advantage. Tom was agreeably ſur⯑priſed [18]to hear ſhe had ſaved fifty pounds by her frugality. The Doctor married them himſelf▪ Farmer Hodges being preſent.

In the afternoon Dr. Shepherd condeſcend⯑ed to call on Farmer and Mrs. White, to give a few words of advice on the new duties they had entered into; a common cuſtom with him on thoſe occaſions. He often took an opportunity to drop, in the moſt kind and tender way, a hint on the great indecency of making marriages, chriſtenings, and above all funerals, days of riot and exceſs, as is too often the caſe in country villages. The ex⯑pectation that the vicar might poſſibly drop in, in his walks, on theſe feſtivities, ſome⯑times reſtrained, exceſſive drinking, and im⯑proper converſation, even among thoſe far⯑mers who were not reſtrained by higher mo⯑tives, as farmer and Mrs. White were.

What the Dr. ſaid was always in ſuch a cheerful, good-humoured way, that it was ſure to increaſe the pleaſure of the day, in⯑ſtead of damping it. "Well, farmer," ſaid he, "and you my faithful Sarah, any other friend might recommend peace and agreement to you on your marriage, but I on the contrary recommend cares and ſtrifes."^* The company ſtared—but Sarah, who knew that her old maſter was a facetious gentleman, and [19]always had ſome good meaning behind, look⯑ed ſerious. "Cares and ſtrifes, Sir," ſaid the farmer, "what do you mean?" "I mean," ſaid he, "for the firſt, that your cares ſhall be who ſhall pleaſe GOD moſt, and your ſtrifes, who ſhall ſerve him beſt, and do your duty moſt faithfully. Thus, all your cares and ſtrifes being employed to the higheſt purpoſes, all petty cares and worldly ſtrifes ſhall be at an end.

"Always remember, both of you, that you have ſtill a better friend than each other."—The company ſtared again, and thought to woman could have ſo good a friend as her huſband. "As you have cho⯑ſen each other from the beſt motives," con⯑tinued the Doctor, "you have every reaſon⯑able ground to hope for happineſs; but as this world is a ſoil, in which troubles and misfortunes will ſpring up; troubles from which you cannot ſave one another: then remember, is the beſt wiſdom to go to that friend who is always near, always willing, and always able, to help you, and that friend is GOD."

"Sir," ſaid Farmer White, "I humbly thank you for all your kind inſtructions, of which I ſhall now ſtand more in need than ever, as I ſhall have more duties to fulfil. I hope the remembrance of my paſt offences [20]will keep me humble, and the ſenſe of my remaining ſin will keep me watchful. I ſet out in the world, Sir, with what is called a good natural diſpoſition, but I ſoon found to my coſt that without God's grace, that will carry a man but a little way. A good temper is a good thing, but nothing but the fear of GOD can enable one to bear up againſt temptation, evil company, and evil paſſions. The misfortune of breaking my leg, as I then thought it, has proved the greateſt bleſſing of my life. It ſhewed me my own weakneſs, Sir, the value of the Bible, and the goodneſs, of GOD. How many of my brother drivers, have I ſeen ſince that time, cut off in the prime of life by drinking, or by ſome ſudden accident, while I have not only been ſpared, but bleſſed and proſpered. O Sir! it would be the joy of my heart, if ſome of my old comrades, good-natured, civil fellows, (whom I can't help loving) could ſee, as I have done, the danger of evil courſes before it is too late. Though they may not hearken to you, Sir, or any other▪ Miniſter, they may believe me, becauſe I have been one of them: and I can ſpeak from experience, of the great difference there is, even as to worldly comfort, between a life of ſobriety and a life of ſin. I could tell them, Sir, not as a thing I have read in a book, but as a truth I feel in my own heart, that to fear GOD and keep his commandments, will not only "bring [21]a man peace at the laſt," but will make him happy now. And I will venture to ſay, Sir, that all the ſtocks, pillories, priſons, and gib⯑bets in the land, though ſo very needful to keep bad men in order, yet will never reſtrain a good man from committing evil, half ſo much as that ſingle text, "how ſhall I do this great wickedneſs and ſin againſt God?" Dr. Shepherd condeſcended to approve of what the farmer had ſaid, kindly ſhook him by the hand, and took leave.

Thomas White had always been fond of ſinging, but he had for many years deſpiſed that vile traſh which is too often ſung in a ſtable-yard. One Sunday evening he heard his miſtreſs at the Bear read ſome verſes out of a fine book called the Spectator. He was ſo ſtruck with the picture it contains of the great mercies of GOD, of which he had himſelf partaken ſo largely, that he took the liberty to aſk her for theſe verſes, and ſhe being a very good-natured woman, made her daughter write out for the poſtilion the fol⯑lowing.

Z.