From Mrs. Heartwhole to Dame Nicholls.

YOUR two daughters dined at our houſe laſt Sunday. It gave me great pleaſure to ſee them, and to find them look ſo well, and appear to be ſo comfortably ſettled. You may be ſure I did not fail to make very particular enquiries after you, and very glad I was to find you had had no returns of your cough, but had been ſtrong and hearty all the winter. I was in hopes too of hear⯑ing that you were in your uſual cheerful ſpirits, but your girls tell me, you have long been quite miſerable from your fears of the French. Mary ſays, you ſit by the fire and fancy how things will be when once their army has got footing in old England, till you imagine they are really come, every time you hear any little noiſe or buſtle; and that you are afraid of walking down the village after dark, for fear of meeting them; and that you go to bed in terror every night, leſt they ſhould come and murder you before the morning.

My worthy old friend, I cannot but grieve that now you are placed in that happy aſylum you have long wiſhed for, that your children are all ſettled to your ſatisfaction, that you ſhould make yourſelf wretched with the fears of an evil which, perhaps, never may arrive. I am ſure you will agree with me, that we ſhould never allow ourſelves to be terrified without reaſon; let us then examine the matter a little cooly, and ſee what cauſe we have [3]for alarm, and what conſolation could be had if all you dread was really to happen.

You ſhould not forget that you are above forty miles from the ſea, ſo that if our enemies were to land on the neareſt ſea coaſt they poſſibly could, and march immediately to your village, they ſtill could not be with you in a moment. News flies very quick you know, ſo that they cannot well come upon you unawares, without your having had any notice that they are in the country. If there comes a party of foot ſoldiers they cannot march ſo quick but that there will be time for the news to ſpread from place to place before them; and if there comes an army of horſe ſoldiers, the landing the horſes muſt take ſome time, ſo that in this caſe too, you will certainly have notice of their being landed before they can poſſibly reach you. You ſee then while all continues ſtill and quiet, you may go to reſt in peace without any fear of being diſturbed; for if they do come, you need never fear but you will, one way or other, have warning beforehand. Well! you will ſay, but ſuppoſing they cannot take us quite by ſur⯑prize, what aſſurance have I that in a week's time they may not come and put an end to my life, or turn me out of doors to beg or to ſtarve. I muſt indeed agree with you that we are in a dangerous ſtate. The king and the parliament by the prepa⯑rations they have made, ſhew that they think we have a great deal to fear; but yet it is the opinion of many wiſe and ſenſible people, that there is a great reaſon to hope that we ſhall beat the French fleet at ſea, ſo as wholly to prevent their coming to invade us; or elſe that if they do make good their landing, the ſpirit of free born Engliſhmen [4]will make them fight ſo manfully in defence of their country and their liberties, that the enemy will never be able to make ſlaves of us, or to ad⯑vance far into our land. For my own part, I will confeſs to you, I have great hopes that by the bleſ⯑ſing of God, the means uſed for our defence will be ſucceſsful. Our danger is great I allow, but ſhall we dare to ſay that we are in ſuch a ſtate that the Almighty cannot deliver us? You and I, my good woman, have both lived too long not to be able to call to mind many examples, both in pub⯑lic and private affairs, when things have turned out much better than we expected, and unlooked for help has been obtained when we ſeemed to be on the brink of ruin. You remember the rebellion in the year forty-five, what a fright were we all in when the Pretender talked of marching to Finch⯑ley; but the goodneſs of God protected us. The duke of Cumberland defeated the rebel army, and it did not come farther than Derby. But we will talk of what has happened nearer the preſent time. The French you know have been threatening to invade us ever ſince the beginning of the war, and many people have been in a continual fright; but by two or three great victories at ſea, or by one means or other under the direction of Providence, here we are ſtill in ſafety, though almoſt all the reſt of the world are involved in the ſeat of war, and overwhelmed with confuſion. Three or four years ago, you know there were continual meet⯑ings of wicked and ſeditious people to try to over⯑throw the King and Parliament, and to bring us into the ſame ſtate as the French; but theſe bad deſigns were not permitted to ſucceed. Then again laſt year, when there was a mutiny in our ſleet; [5]did it not then ſeem as if all was over with us, for what could we hope, if our ſeamen, our defence, turned againſt us; but you remember how it end⯑ed. The ringleaders were brought to puniſhment, and the reſt returned to their duty.

We ſhould think of theſe paſt deliverances Mrs. Nicholls to make us grateful to God, and to keep up our courage in the preſent danger; has not He who has preſerved us through ſo many perils, ſtill the ſame power to protect us? Let us then truſt in him and cheerfully hope the beſt▪ Let us not grumble at the taxes, as if they were intended only to enrich the King or Mr. Pitt, but let us remember that it is owing to them, we are ſo happy to have an army and navy ſo well equipped and ready at hand to defend us. Happily for you and I, my old friend, we have not the cares of governing the nation upon our ſhoulders. All we have to do is to fear God and do our duty in our private ſtation, and then we can never tell how much we may each one of us be the means of drawing down the bleſ⯑ſing of God upon our country. Recollect that Sodom would have been ſaved if but ten righteous perſons had been found in it.

But notwithſtanding all I have ſaid, I cannot deny but that the times are very bad; and God thinking fit to puniſh the wickedneſs of ſome, and to try the faith of others, may permit us to fall into the hands of our enemies. Well, my good friend! and if it ſhould be ſo, have we not been long taught to conſider this life only as a journey to a better? Do we not know that we are each day liable to all ſorts of diſtreſs? What will it much ſig⯑nify whether our houſes catch fire by accident, or are ſet on fire by the French? Whether an Engliſh [6]or a French robber takes away our property? or whether we die upon our beds of a tormenting diſ⯑eaſe, or are put to death at once by the enemy's ſword. There is nothing ſo terrible in a violent death as is often ſuppoſed. It is but ſhortening the way to Heaven, and depriving us a few days or a few years of life, that would moſt likely have brought with it many cares and infirmities. Though the French ſtay away, we muſt die once, and they can put us to death but once, let them do their worſt againſt us. How excellent then is the ad⯑vice of our Saviour, "Fear not them which kill the body, and after that have no more that they can do."

But you will ſay to me, perhaps as you did ſome time ago, "I am not good enough to die. It is that thought that makes me afraid." I would not lead you to think too well of yourſelf; but when I conſider how much you have tried to obey your Creator, and how honeſtly and religiouſly you have brought up your family, I am apt to ſuppoſe that I know few people better prepared for death than yourſelf. But the beſt among us have done ſo many wrong things, that we ſhould have cauſe to be alarmed if it was not for the gracious promiſes of God, and the interceſſion of his beloved Son. But now the ſting of death is taken away. Jeſus Chriſt has died for us, and if we believe in him and repent, we need not fear but we ſhall obtain that high happineſs he came into the world to procure for us.

But poſſibly you will reply, you do not fear the French ſo much for yourſelf as for your children. You cannot bear the thought that your ſons ſhould die in battle, your daughters ſuffer from the vio⯑lence [7]of wicked ſoldiers, and your little grand⯑children wander about ſome one way and ſome another, and either be ſtarved to death or fall into bad hands.

Theſe are ſad melancholy ſuppoſitions indeed, and I hope none of them will ever come true. You ſhould conſider, that becauſe a country is invaded by an enemy, it does not follow that every perſon is a dreadful ſufferer. Thouſands in different places, thoſe in a low ſtation particularly, live on ſtill in the ſame way undiſturbed and unthought of. May you and yours be among this number, if the French ſhould really come as they threaten to do.

But whatever becomes of your children, remem⯑ber they will be under the protection of Heaven. They are all good and virtuous, ſo that your firſt wiſhes are granted. Truſt God for the reſt. Not one hair of their head can periſh without his know⯑ledge. They are his children as well as yours, and he loves them better than you can poſſibly do. He will make them as happy now as may be conſiſtent with their everlaſting happineſs; and will you not ſubmit to his will, if he ſees it neceſſary to appoint that through much tribulation they ſhall enter into his kingdom? If he brings them into difficulties, he will give them ſtrength to bear up under them. He will be the widow's conſolation and the orphan's hope.

Farewel my worthy old friend. Think of what I have written. Try to get up your ſpirits, and do not let your whole family be unhappy from ſee⯑ing you wretched. What would you ſay to the old ſoldier, who after fighting for years by the ſide of his general, turns coward and runs away [8]from him, in the laſt engagement? Then what will you ſay to the aged Chriſtian; who after having borne up cheerfully under many afflictions, ſuffers himſelf at laſt to be caſt down, and almoſt to give up his truſt in the Lord. It is true, the times are hard, and to us who have families, the proſpect before us is a little dark and dreary; but let us look above theſe earthly clouds, and we ſhall ſee all bright again in Heaven.