THE SHEPHERD OF SALISBURY-PLAIN.

MR. JOHNSON, a very worthy cha⯑ritable Gentleman, was travelling ſome time ago acroſs one of thoſe vaſt Plains which are well known in Wiltſhire. It was a fine ſummer's evening, and he rode ſlowly that he might have leiſure to ad⯑mire God in the works of his creation. For this Gentleman was of opinion, that a walk or a ride, was as proper a time as any to think about good things, for which reaſon, on ſuch occaſions he ſeldom thought ſo much about his money, or his trade, or public news, as at other times, that he might with more eaſe and ſatisfac⯑tion enjoy the pious thoughts which the viſible works of the great Maker of hea⯑ven and earth are intended to raiſe in the mind.

[4] His attention was all of a ſudden called off by the barking of a Shepherd's dog, and looking up he ſpied one of thoſe little huts, which are here and there to be ſeen on theſe great Downs; and near it was the Shepherd himſelf buſily employed with his dog in collecting together his vaſt flock of ſheep. As he drew nearer he perceived him to be a clean, well⯑looking, poor man, near fifty years of age. His coat, though at firſt it had pro⯑bably been of one dark colour, had been in a long courſe of years ſo often patched with different ſorts of cloth, that it was now become hard to ſay which had been the original colour. But this, while it gave a plain proof of the Shepherd's po⯑verty, equally proved the exceeding neat⯑neſs, induſtry, and good management of his wife. His ſtockings no leſs proved her good houſewifery, for they were entirely covered with darns of different coloured worſted, but had not a hole in them; and his ſhirt, though nearly as coarſe as the ſails of a ſhip, was as white as the drifted ſnow, and neatly mended where time had either made a rent, or worn it thin. This is a rule of judging, by which one ſhall ſeldom be deceived. If I meet with a labourer, hedging, ditch⯑ing, or mending the highways with his ſtockings and ſhirt tight and whole, how⯑ever mean and bad his other garments are, [5]I have ſeldom fared, on viſiting his cot⯑tage, to find that alſo clean and well or⯑dered, and his wife notable, and worthy of encouragement. Whereas a poor woman, who will be lying a-bed, or goſſipping with her neighbours when ſhe ought to be fitting out her huſband in a cleanly manner, will ſeldom be found to be very good in other reſpects.

This was not the caſe with our Shep⯑herd: And Mr. Johnſon was not more ſtruck with the decency of his mean and frugal dreſs, than with his open honeſt countenance, which bore ſtrong marks of health, cheerfulneſs, and ſpirit.

Mr. Johnſon, who was on a journey, and ſomewhat fearful from the appearance of the ſky, that rain was at no great diſ⯑tance, accoſted the Shepherd with aſking what ſort of weather he thought it would be on the morrow.—"It will be ſuch wea⯑ther as pleaſes me," anſwered the Shep⯑herd. Though the anſwer was delivered in the mildeſt and civileſt tone that could be imagined, the Gentleman thought the words themſelves rather rude and ſurly, and aſked him how that could be, "Be⯑cauſe," replied the Shepherd, "it will be ſuch weather as ſhall pleaſe God, and whatever pleaſes him always pleaſes me."

[6] Mr. Johnſon, who delighted in good men and good things, was very well ſatis⯑fied with his reply. For he juſtly thought that though an hypocrite may eaſily con⯑trive to appear better than he really is to a ſtranger; and that no one ſhould be too ſoon truſted, merely for having a few good words in his mouth; yet as he knew that "out of the abundance of the heart the mouth ſpeaketh," he always accuſtomed himſelf to judge favourably of thoſe who had a ſerious deportment and ſolid manner of ſpeaking. "It looks as if it proceeded from a good habit," ſaid he, "and though I may now and then be deceived by it, yet it has not often happened to me to be ſo. Whereas, if a man accoſts me with an idle, diſſolute, vulgar, indecent, or prophane expreſſion, I have never been deceived in him, but have generally on inquiry found his character to be as bad as his language gave me room to expect."

He entered into converſation with the Shepherd in the following manner. Yours is a troubleſome life, honeſt friend, ſaid he. To be ſure, Sir, replied the Shepherd, 'tis not a very lazy life; but 'tis not near ſo toilſome as that which my GREAT MAS⯑TER led for my ſake, and he had every ſtate and condition of life at his choice, and choſe a hard one—while I only ſubmit [7]to the lot that is appointed me.—You are expoſed to great cold and heat, ſaid the Gentleman;—true, Sir, ſaid the Shepherd; but then I am not expoſed to great temp⯑tations; and ſo throwing one thing againſt another, God is pleaſed to contrive to make things more equal than we poor, ignorant, ſhort-ſighted creatures are apt to think. David was happier when he kept his father's ſheep on ſuch a plain as this, and ſinging ſome of his own Pſalms perhaps, than ever he was when he became king of Iſrael and Judah. And I dare ſay we ſhould never have had ſome of the moſt beautiful texts in all thoſe fine Pſalms, if he had not been a Shep⯑herd, which enabled him to make ſo many fine compariſons and ſimilitudes, as one may ſay, from a country life, flocks of ſheep, hills, and vallies, and fountains of water.

You think then, ſaid the Gentleman, that a laborious life is a happy one. I do, Sir, and more ſo eſpecially, as it expoſes a man to fewer ſins. If King Saul had con⯑tinued a poor laborious man to the end of his days, he might have lived happy and honeſt, and died a natural death in his bed at laſt, which you know, Sir, was more than he did. But I ſpeak with reve⯑rence, for it was divine Providence over⯑ruled all that, you know, Sir, and I do [8]not preſume to make compariſons. Be⯑ſides, Sir, my employment has been par⯑ticularly honoured—Moſes was a Shep⯑herd in the plains of Midian.—It was to "Shepherds keeping their flocks by night," that the angels appeared in Beth⯑lehem, to tell the beſt news, the gladdeſt tidings, that ever were revealed to poor ſinful men: often, and often has the thought warmed my poor heart in the coldeſt night, and filled me with more joy and thankfulneſs than the beſt ſupper could have done.

Here the Shepherd ſtopped, for he be⯑gan to feel that he had made too free, and had talked too long. But Mr. Johnſon was ſo well pleaſed with what he ſaid, and with the cheerful contented manner in which he ſaid it, that he deſired him to go on freely, for that it was a pleaſure to him to meet with a plain man, who without any kind of learning but what he had got from the Bible, was able to talk ſo well on a ſubject in which all men, high and low, rich and poor, are equally concerned.

Indeed I am afraid I make too bold, Sir, for it better becomes me to liſten to ſuch a Gentleman as you ſeem to be, than to talk in my poor way; but as I was ſay⯑ing, Sir, I wonder all working men do not derive as great joy and delight as I do [9]from thinking how God has honoured poverty! Oh! Sir, what great, or rich, or mighty men have had ſuch honour put on them, or their condition, as Shep⯑herds, Tent-makers, Fiſhermen, and Car⯑penters have had?

My honeſt friend, ſaid the Gentleman, I perceive you are well acquainted with ſcripture. Yes, Sir, pretty well, bleſſed be God! through his mercy I learnt to read when I was a little boy; though read⯑ing was not ſo common when I was a child, as, I am told, through the good⯑neſs of Providence, and the generoſity of the rich, it is likely to become now a-days. I believe there is no day for the laſt thirty years, that I have not peeped at my Bible. If we can't find time to read a chapter, I defy any man to ſay he can't find time to read a verſe; and a ſingle text Sir, well followed and put in practice every day, would make no bad figure at the year's end; three hundred and ſixty-five texts, without the loſs of a moment's time, would make a pretty ſtock, a little golden treaſury, as one may ſay, from new-year's day to new-year's day; and if children were brought up to it, they would look for their text as naturally as they do for their breakfaſt. No labouring man, 'tis true, has ſo much leiſure as a Shepherd, [10]for while the flock is feeding, I am oblig⯑ed to be ſtill, and at ſuch times I can now and then tap a ſhoe for my children or my⯑ſelf, which is a great ſaving to us, and while I am doing that I repeat a bit of a chapter, which makes the time paſs plea⯑ſantly in this wild ſolitary place. I can ſay the beſt part of the Bible by heart, I be⯑lieve I ſhould not ſay the beſt part, for every part is good, but I mean the greateſt part. I have led but a lonely life, and have often had but little to eat, but my Bible has been meat, drink and company to me, as I may ſay, and when want and trouble have come upon me, I don't know what I ſhould have done indeed, Sir, if I had not had the promiſes of this book for my ſtay and ſupport.

You have had great difficulties then? ſaid Mr. Johnſon. Why, as to that, Sir, not more than neighbours fare, I have but little cauſe to complain, and much to be thankful; but I have had ſome little ſtruggles, as I will leave you to judge. I have a wife and eight children, whom I bred up in that little cottage which you ſee under the hill about half a mile off. What, that with the ſmoke coming out of the chimney, ſaid the Gentleman. O no, Sir, replied the Shep⯑herd ſmiling, we have ſeldom ſmoke in the evening, for we have little to cook, [11]and firing is very dear in theſe parts. 'Tis that cottage which you ſee on the left hand of the Church, near that little tuft of haw⯑thorns. What that hovel with only one room above and one below, with ſcarcely any chimney, how is it poſſible you can live there with ſuch a family! O! it is very poſſible and very certain too, cried the Shepherd. How many better men have been worſe lodged! how many good chriſtians have periſhed in priſons and dungeons, in compariſon of which my cot⯑tage is a palace. The houſe is very well, Sir, and if the rain did not ſometimes beat down upon us through the thatch when we are a bed, I ſhould not deſire a bet⯑ter; for I have health, peace, and liberty, and no man maketh me afraid.

Well, I will certainly call on you be⯑fore it be long; but how can you con⯑trive to lodge ſo many children? We do the beſt we can, Sir. My poor wife is a very ſickly woman, or we ſhould always have done tolerably well. There are no gentry in the pariſh, ſo that ſhe has not met with any great aſſiſtance in her ſick⯑neſs. The good curate of the pariſh who lives in that pretty parſonage in the val⯑ley, is very willing, but not very able to aſſiſt us on theſe trying occaſions, for he has little enough for himſelf and a large family into the bargain. Yet he does [12]what he can, and more than many richer men do, and more than he can well af⯑ford. Beſides that, his prayers and good advice we are always ſure of, and we are truly thankful for that, for a man muſt give, you know, Sir, according to what he hath, and not according to what he hath not.

Are you in any diſtreſs at preſent? ſaid Mr. Johnſon. No, Sir, thank God, re⯑plied the Shepherd. I get my ſhilling a day, and moſt of my children will ſoon be able to earn ſomething; for we have only three under five years of age. Only! ſaid the Gentleman, that is a heavy burden. Not at all; God fits the back to it. Though my wife is not able to do any out of door work, yet ſhe breeds up our chil⯑dren to ſuch habits of induſtry that our little maids before they are ſix years old can firſt get a halfpenny, and then a pen⯑ny a day by knitting. The boys who are too little to do hard work, get a trifle by keeping the birds off the corn; for this the farmers will give them a penny or two⯑pence, and now and then a bit of bread and cheeſe into the bargain. When the ſeaſon of crow keeping is over, then they glean or pick ſtones; any thing is better than idleneſs, Sir, and if they do not get a farthing by it, I would make them do it juſt the ſame, for the ſake of giving them early habits of labour.

[13] So you ſee, Sir, I am not ſo badly off as many are; nay, if it were not that it coſts me ſo much in 'Potecary's ſtuff for my poor wife, I ſhould reckon myſelf well off. Nay, I do reckon myſelf well off, for bleſſ⯑ed be God, he has granted her life to my prayers, and I would work myſelf to a [...]natomy, and live on one meal a day to add any comfort to her valuable life; in⯑deed I have often done the laſt, and thought it no great matter neither.

While they were in this part of the diſ⯑courſe, a fine plump cherry-cheek little girl ran up out of breath, with a ſmile on her young happy face, and without taking any notice of the Gentleman, cried out with great joy—Look here, fa⯑ther, only ſee how much I have got to⯑day! Mr. Johnſon was much ſtruck with her ſimplicity, but puzzled to know what was the occaſion of this great joy. On looking at her he perceived a ſmall quan⯑tity of coarſe wool, ſome of which had found it's way through the holes of her clean, but ſcanty and ragged woollen apron. The father ſaid, this has been a ſucceſsful day indeed, Molly, but don't you ſee the Gentleman? Molly now made a curtſey down to the very ground; while Mr. Johnſon inquired into the cauſe of the mutual ſatisfaction which both father [14]and daughter had expreſſed, at the un⯑uſual good fortune of the day.

Sir, ſaid the Shepherd, poverty is a great ſharpener of wits.—My wife and I cannot endure to ſee our children (poor as they are) without ſhoes and ſtockings, not only on account of the pinching cold which cramps their poor little limbs, but becauſe it degrades and debaſes them; and poor people who have but little re⯑gard to appearances will ſeldom be found to have any great regard for honeſty and goodneſs; I don't ſay this is always the caſe; but I am ſure it is ſo too often. Now ſhoes and ſtockings being very dear we could never afford to get them with⯑out a little contrivance. I muſt ſhew you how I manage about the ſhoes when you condeſcend to call at our cottage, Sir; as to ſtockings, this is one way we take to help get them. My young ones who are too little to do much work, ſometimes wander at odd hours over the hills for the chance of finding what little wool the ſheep may drop when they rub them⯑ſelves, as they are apt to do, in the buſhes. ^*. Theſe ſcattered bits of wool the children pick out of the brambles, which I ſee, have torn ſad holes in [15]Molly's apron to-day; they carry this wool home, and when they have got a pretty parcel together, their mother cards it; for we can ſit and card in the chim⯑ney corner, when ſhe is not able to waſh, or work about houſe. The biggeſt girl then ſpins it; it does very well for us without dying, for poor people muſt not ſtand for the colour of their ſtockings. After this our little boys knit it for them⯑ſelves, while they are employed in keep⯑ing crows in the fields, and after they get home at night. As for the knitting the girls and their mother do, that is chiefly for ſale, which helps to pay our rent.

Mr. Johnſon lifted up his eyes in ſilent aſtoniſhment at the ſhifts which honeſt poverty can make rather than beg or ſteal; and was ſurpriſed to think how many ways of ſubſiſting there are which thoſe who live at their eaſe little ſuſpect. He ſecret⯑ly reſolved to be more attentive to his own petty expences than he had hitherto been; and to be more watchful that no⯑thing was waſted in his family.

But to return to the Shepherd. Mr. Johnſon told him that as he muſt needs be at his friend's houſe, who lived many miles off that night, he could not as he wiſhed to do, make a viſit to his cottage at preſent. But I will certainly do it, [16]ſaid he, on my return, for I long to ſee your wife and her nice little family, and to be an eye witneſs of her neatneſs and good management. The poor man's tears ſtarted into his eyes on hearing the com⯑mendation beſtowed on his wife; and wiping them off with the ſleeve of his coat, for he was not worth a handker⯑chief in the world, he ſaid—Oh! Sir, you juſt now, I am afraid, called me an humble man, but indeed I am a very proud one. Proud! exclaimed Mr. John⯑ſon, I hope not—Pride is a great ſin, and as the poor are liable to it as well as the rich, ſo good a man as you ſeem to be, ought to guard againſt it. Sir, ſaid he, you are right, but I am not proud of myſelf, God knows, I have nothing to be proud of. I am a poor ſinner, but indeed Sir, I am proud of my wife: She is not only the moſt tidy, notable wo⯑man on the Plain, but ſhe is the kindeſt wife and mother, and the moſt con⯑tented, thankful chriſtian that I know. Laſt year I thought I ſhould have loſt her in a violent fit of the rheumatiſm, caught by going to work too ſoon after her lying-in, I fear; for 'tis but a bleak coldiſh place, as you may ſee, Sir, in winter, and ſometimes the ſnow lies ſo long under the hill, that I can hardly make myſelf a path to get out and buy a few neceſſaries in the next village; and [17]we are afraid to ſend out the children, for fear they ſhould be loſt when the ſnow is deep. So, as I was ſaying, the poor ſoul was very bad indeed, and for ſeveral weeks loſt the uſe of all her limbs except her hands: a merciful Providence ſpared her the uſe of theſe, ſo that when ſhe could not turn in her bed, ſhe could contrive to patch a rag or two for her family. She was always ſaying, had it not been for the great goodneſs of God, ſhe might have had the palſy inſtead of the rheumatiſm, and then ſhe could have done nothing—but nobody had ſo many mercies as ſhe had.

I will not tell you what we ſuffered during that bitter weather, Sir, but my wife's faith and patience during that try⯑ing time, were as good a leſſon to me as any Sermon I could hear, and yet Mr. Jenkins gave us very comfortable ones too, that helped to keep up my ſpirits.

One Sunday afternoon when my wife was at the worſt, as I was coming out of Church, for I went one part of the day, and my eldeſt daughter the other, ſo my poor wife was never left alone. As I was coming out of Church, I ſay, Mr. Jenkins the miniſter called out to me, and aſked me how my wife did, ſaying he had been [18]kept from coming to ſee her by the deep fall of ſnow, and indeed from the parſon⯑age-houſe to my hovel it was quite im⯑paſſable. I gave him all the particulars he aſked, and I am afraid a good many more, for my heart was quite full. He kindly gave me a ſhilling, and ſaid he would certainly try to pick out his way and come and ſee her in a day or two.

While he was talking to me, a plain farmer-looking Gentleman in boots, who ſtood by, liſtened to all I ſaid, but ſeem⯑ed to take no notice. It was Mr. Jenkins's wife's father, who was come to paſs the Chriſtmas holidays at the parſonage-houſe. I had always heard him ſpoken of as a plain frugal man, who lived cloſe himſelf, but was remarked to give away more than any of his ſhow-away neighbours.

Well! I went home with great ſpirits at this ſeaſonable and unexpected ſupply; for we had tapped our laſt ſix-pence, and there was little work to be had on account of the weather. I told my wife I was not come back empty handed. No, I dare ſay not, ſays ſhe, you have been ſerving a maſter "who filleth the hungry with good things, though he ſendeth the rich empty away." True, Mary, ſays I; we ſeldom fail to get good ſpiritual food from Mr. Jenkins, but to-day he has [19]kindly ſupplied our bodily wants. She was more thankful when I ſhewed her the ſhilling, than, I dare ſay, ſome of your great people are when they get a hundred pounds.

Mr. Johnſon's heart ſmote him when he heard ſuch a value ſet upon a ſhilling; ſurely, ſaid he to himſelf, I will never waſte another; but he ſaid nothing to the Shepherd, who thus purſued his ſtory.

Next morning before I went out, I ſent part of the money to buy a little ale and brown ſugar to put into her water gruel; which you know, Sir, made it nice and nouriſhing. I went out to cleave wood in a farm-yard, for there was no ſtanding out on the plain, after ſuch a ſnow as had fallen in the night. I went with a lighter heart than uſual, becauſe I had left my poor wife a little better; and comfortably ſupplied for this day, and I now reſolved more than ever to truſt in God for the ſupplies of the next. When I came back at night, my wife fell a crying as ſoon as ſhe ſaw me. This, I own I thought but a bad return for the bleſſings ſhe had ſo lately received, and ſo I told her. O, ſaid ſhe, it is too much, we are too rich; I am now frightened, not leſt we ſhould have no portion in this world, but for fear we ſhould have our whole portion [20]in it. Look here, John! So ſaying ſhe uncovered the bed whereon ſhe lay, and ſhewed me two warm, thick, new blank⯑ets. I could not believe my own eyes, Sir, becauſe when I went out in the morning, I had left her with no other covering than our little old thin blue rug. I was ſtill more amazed when ſhe put half a crown into my hand, telling me ſhe had had a viſit from Mr. Jenkins, and Mr. Jones, the latter of whom had beſtowed all theſe good things upon us. Thus, Sir, have our lives been crowned with mercies. My wife got about again, and I do believe, under Providence, it was owing to theſe comforts; for the rheumatiſm, Sir, without blankets by night and flannel by day, is but a bad⯑diſh job, eſpecially to people who have little or no fire. She will always be a weakly body; but thank God her ſoul proſpers and is in health. But I beg your pardon, Sir, for talking on at this rate. Not at all, not at all, ſaid Mr. Johnſon; I am much pleaſed with your ſtory, you ſhall certainly ſee me in a few days. Good night. So ſaying, he ſlipped a crown into his hand, and rode off. Sure⯑ly, ſaid the Shepherd, goodneſs and mercy have followed me all the days of my life, as he gave the money to his wife when he got home at night.

[21] As to Mr. Johnſon, he found abundant matter for his thoughts during the reſt of his journey. On the whole he was more diſpoſed to envy than to pity the Shep⯑herd. I have ſeldom ſeen, ſaid he, ſo happy a man. It is a ſort of happineſs which the world could not give, and which I plainly ſee, it has not been able to take away. This muſt be the true ſpirit of Religion. I ſee more and more, that true goodneſs is not merely a thing of words and opinions, but a Living Principle brought into every-common ac⯑tion of a man's life. What elſe could have ſupported this poor couple under every bitter trial of want, and ſickneſs? No, my honeſt Shepherd, I do not pity, but I reſpect and even honour thee; and I will viſit thy poor hovel on my return to Saliſbury with as much pleaſure as I am now going to the houſe of my friend.

If Mr. Johnſon keeps his word in ſend⯑ing me the account of his viſit to the Shepherd's cottage, I ſhall be very glad to entertain my readers with it, and ſhall conclude this firſt part with

(Z.)