sions had worn off. But when the mind is earnestly intent upon any one object, it will find means, even under the most adverse circumstances, to gratify its ruling inclination. She and her elder sister, unknown to their parents, contrived to keep up an intimacy with several of Mr Wesley's followers; and when her sister married, and removed from her, these connexions still continued. The consequences were inevitable. What are called the pleasures of society were at variance with her ideas of religious duty, and she was unable to discover how she could at the same time serve God and the world. She begged leave not to accompany the family to the theatre, because she could not conscientiously partake of such amusements; and when her father told her that "her arguments proved too much; since, according to her doctrines, all places of diversion, all dress, all parties—indeed the whole spirit of the world, was sinful," she replied, "I believe it to be so; and am therefore determined to be no more conformed to its customs, fashions, or maxims." This, of course, opened the door for many domestic trials. Her father reasoned, her mother grieved, and her acquaintance sneered. Sometimes she yielded to the temptations around her, and was enticed by the world; but these states of mind were usually followed by depression, arising from a sense of her own weakness. This brought on fresh reproaches; her melancholy was said to be occasioned by her strange ideas of religion; and if she were visited by illness, it was attributed to the same cause. She loved her father very tenderly, and therefore it was peculiarly painful to her to oppose him. Obedience to God seemed to her to be at variance with obedience to her parents; and she was continually perplexed to know how far she ought to conform to them, and how far she ought to resist. When she was about seventeen years of age, she became acquainted with a gentleman, who professed great affection for her. Her religious friends advised her to think of him, as he was likely to be very acceptable to her parents, and would enable her to enjoy more liberty than she could have under her parental roof. She was perplexed by these counsels, and sometimes tempted; but she soon became convinced that her affections were not sufficiently interested; and all thoughts of him were swallowed up in a renewed ardor of piety. Her mother sometimes expressed the opinion that Mary had better be removed from the family, lest her example should influence her younger brothers, and thus, as she supposed, ruin their worldly prospects. Even her father, who was more calm and considerate, wished to exact from her a promise that she would never, in any way, attempt to make her brothers what she considered a Christian; she replied, "I dare not promise that." Her father then intimated it was best for her to remove from home; saying, with some emotion, "I do not know that you ever disobliged me wilfully in your life, but only in these fancies." Her mother approved of her resolution to take lodgings, and assisted her in the necessary arrangements. She says, "Something, however, seemed to hold us, on both sides, from bringing it to the point. For the next two months I suffered much; my mind was exercised with many tender and painful feelings. One day my mother sent me word I must go home to my lodgings that night. I went down to dinner, but they said nothing on the subject; and I could not begin it. The next day, as I was sitting in my room, I received again the same message; during dinner, however, nothing was spoken on the subject. I was much distressed, I thought,' if they do not invite me to come and see them again, how shall I bear it?' At last, just as they were going out, my mother said, 'If you will, the coach, when it has set us down, may carry you to your lodging.' My father added, we should be glad to have you dine with us next Tuesday.' This was some relief. I remained silent. When the coach returned, I ordered my trunk into it; and struggling with myself, took a kind of leave of each of the servants, as they stood in tears. My lodging consisted of two rooms, as yet unfurnished I had never seen the people of the house, I only knew them by character to be sober persons. I borrowed a table and a candlestick, and the windowseat served me as a chair. Bolting the door, I began to muse on my present situation. 'I am youngonly entered into my twentysecond year. I am cast out of my father's house. what it is to be a stranger. My heart knows Lord, and found a sweet calm spread over my spirit. I could in a measure act faith on these words; 'When thy father and thy mother forsake thee, the Lord shall take thee up.' "The following reflections also arose in my mind. 'I am now exposed to the world, and know not the snares that may be gathering around me. I will form a plan for my future conduct, and endeavor to walk thereby. I will not receive visits from single men; and in order to evade the trial more easily, I will not get acquainted with any. I will endeavor to lay out my time by rule, that I may know each hour what is to be done; nevertheless I will cheerfully, submit to have these rules broken, whenever the providence of God thinks fit to do so. Thirdly, I will try to fix my mind on the example of Jesus Christ, remembering, " He came not to be ministered unto, but to minister." "The prejudices of education are strong; especially in those brought up in rather high life. The being removed from a parent's habitation seemed very awful. I considered myself liable to deep reproach, and trembled at the thought. But I remembered, ' He that loveth father or mother more than me, is not worthy of me.' "I had hired a sober girl to be in readiness to attend upon me; and my maid being now come, and having lighted a fire in the other room, and borrowed a few articles of the family, she begged me to come into it, as the night was very cold. And now my captivity seemed turning every moment. The thought that I was brought out of the world, and had nothing to do but to be holy, filled me with consolation. Thankfulness overflowed my heart; and such a spirit of peace and content poured into my soul, that all about me seemed a little heaven. "Some bread, with rank salt butter, and water to drink, made me so comfortable a meal, that I could truly say I ate my meat with gladness and singleness of heart. As the bed was not put up; I laid almost on the ground that night, and it being a bright moonlight night, the sweet solemnity thereof well agreed with the tranquillity of my spirit. I had daily more cause for praise. I was acquainted with many of the excellent of the earth, and my delight was in them. Yet I was not without my cross; for every time I went to see my dear parents, what I felt, when I rose up to go away, cannot well be imagined. Not that I wished to abide there; but there was something very affecting in bidding farewell to those under whose roof I had always lived; though I saw the wise and gracious hand of God in all, and that he had by this means set me free to do his service. From my heart I thanked Him as the author, and them as the profitable instruments of doing me so great good. My mother was frequently giving me little things; and every renewed mark of kindness made the wound bleed afresh." |
