CHAP. VIII.
A healing essence and a strengthening charm,
Next to the hope of heaven, such was thy love,
Departed and deplored! Talents were thine,
Lofty and bright; the subtle shaft of wit,
And that keen glance of intellect which reads
Intuitive, the deep and mazy springs
Of human action. Yet such meek regard
To other's feelings, such a simple grace
And singleness of purpose, such respect
To woman's noiseless duties, sweetly blent
And tempered those high gifts, that every heart
That feared their power, yet loved their goodness too.
Brilliant and beautiful! and can it be
That in thy radiant eye there dwells no light,
Upon thy cheek no smile ?
Beloved, I shrink to say
Farewell to thee!
We enter now upon the last year of Mrs. Fishwick's useful
life. She was ripening for glory. The mortal affliction which had laid hold
on her frame, was silently, though sometimes imperceptibly preparing to fulfil
its commission; and she was obliged, through increasing, weakness, to pass many
hours in solitude, which would otherwise have been spent in the sanctuary of
her God, and the united worship of His people. But solitary hours were blessed
ones to her, for in them she most sweetly realised the presence of her Lord.
She poured out her soul before Him, as her nearest and best friend. She weighed
herself in the balances of the sanctuary, — jealous over her own heart, and
dissatisfied with her own attainments; while her friends increasingly felt the
influence of the grace of God within her. She bowed in meek submission to the
chastening discipline of her Heavenly Father; and uncomplainingly gave up first
one and then another active engagement or enjoyment: ever dwelling with deep
thankfulness on the many mercies and alleviations of suffering which she enjoyed.
She stood like a goodly tree, planted by the rivers of water; deep rooted in
the truth of God, and bringing forth fruit in its season ; not only in spring
time and summer, but also the richer and mellower fruits of autumn.
Her course throughout was a very unpretending one ; her manner of going through
it was, however, rare. She “did what thousands do, but she did it as not one
in a thousand does.” Like that nobly gifted man, the Rev. Robt. Hall, she lost
sight of herself if she could benefit others.
Often were her Christian sympathies drawn forth by the sickness and death of her dear friends and family connections. The close of the year was already fraught with mournful memories, and ere this year passed away, others were added to the “host who have crossed the flood.”
In November, Mrs. F. was called to weep with her much respected
sister-in-law, Mrs. Holgate, of Brown
Hill, Burnley. Mr. H., whose health for some time had been failing, died in
great peace, a blessed assurance that he had gone to be for ever with the Lord.
Scarcely had the grave closed over his remains, ere her beloved sister-in-law, Mrs. Hopwood, of Oak Mount, Burnley, received the summons to go up higher. She had endured a long night of affliction and suffering, with the meekness and patience of a Christian, and death to her was great gain.
Mrs. F. addressed the following note to the eldest daughter of the bereaved and, sorrowing family.
Springfield, January 3, 1849.
My very dear Mary,
Your uncle may perhaps have told you that I fully purposed writing a few lines by him yesterday, but was prevented by Mrs A. calling to make enquiries after you all, and to learn any particulars she could respecting one to whom she was so tenderly attached. I am sure on this sorrowful day, although unseen, we shall both frequently be with you in spirit, and whilst we mourn with you at the grave, our thoughts will ascend from thence to that glorious region where your beloved mother now dwells, freed from all the pains and sorrows of mortality, and where, unchecked by weakness, she will join the full chorus of “Hallelujah to God and the Lamb.” Oh, what a blessed change to her who was so long oppressed by feebleness and disease; and it is a great consolation that you were favoured with such a testimony of her confidence in her Redeemer, for though it was not necessary to a belief of the safety of her state, yet it is very comforting to know, that to her the gloom of the “dark valley” was illuminated by the presence of her Saviour, and that he walked with her through the “dreadful shades.” Therefore on her account we have every reason to be grateful, for she is now beyond the reach of sorrow and suffering; but it is for the bereaved we mourn, and especially for your dear father: may He who cheered by his presence the mourners at Bethany, visit your sorrowful dwelling, and soothe and comfort those who mourn, making even this painful trial to yield the peaceable fruit of righteousness. But though the loss will be most heavily felt in her own dwelling, yet many participate in it; for as a sister and friend, her faithful love, unwavering kindness, readiness to oblige, forgetfulness of self, and cheerful, contented disposition, have left an impression which time itself cannot destroy. I loved her as a sister, and ever found her truly kind and affectionate; and I feel in her removal one more attraction to that. “better land,”
Where doth many a loved one dwell,
In light and joy ineffable.
I find the circle of my friends is lessening greatly; but
I am comforted by the thought that they have
Found the rest we toil to find, Landed in the arms of God.
Oh, that we may be enabled to hold on and hold out to the end, that we too may
at last be found conquerors through the Saviour's might. Praying that you may
all be especially sustained in this time of sorrow, and with sincere feelings
of affectionate condolence to your dear father, brothers, and sister, believe
me, my dear Mary, your sympathizing aunt.
The succeeding remarks, conclude a long letter written to Mr. Hopwood, upon the same mournful occasion.
I might say much respecting her cheerfulness, benevolence, generosity, kindness, and urbanity, but I forbear; for whilst generally beloved and admired by all who had the pleasure of her acquaintance, yet her many excellencies were best known and most fully appreciated by those who now so deeply mourn her loss. May the hallowed season when her death shall be improved, be rendered, through the agency of the Holy Ghost, a time of especial blessing to many, who may listen to the account of her patient suffering, and of her peaceful exit. That you, my dear sir, and all who rejoiced to call her mother, may be sustained under your heavy bereavement, by the richest cordials of divine love ; and that finally, we may be all re-united with our loved and lost, where Sorrow and disappointment shall never come, is the fervent prayer of
Your sympathizing friend and sister,
A. E. Fishwick
How mysteriously are the links of our friendships here below dissolved; but with the Christian's hope, we “sorrow not as others;” we look forward
Beyond the flight of time,
Beyond the vale of death
Where spirit holds high and holy communion with kindred spirit, and the blessed inhabitants of that happy land no more say “I am sick,” and “death has no power o'er the fadeless forms.”
About this time she thus addressed her niece, Miss Sarah Fishwick.
My very dear Sarah,
As we are going to Lancaster today to visit Mr. and Mrs. Broster, they having both been ill, I thought I would acknowledge your kind note, received on Wednesday, before I set off; and I was just going to my desk for the purpose of doing so, when Miss P. called me into the drawing room, where all the beautiful and valued gifts of my dearest friends were set out, adorned with a profusion of flowers. What my feelings were, your own on such occasions must explain, for I really cannot describe them; but I do feel that my greatest earthly blessing is the love of those, whose tokens of kind remembrance, and assurances of interest in my welfare, have greeted me this morning. May the Giver of all my mercies reward them a thousand fold for all their kindness to one who is undeserving of their regard, because of the unfaithfulness of her heart to Him, who has so richly crowned her with loving kindness and tender mercy.
My time is gone, and I can only beg you to believe how highly your valued gift is estimated; and with much love to dear Betsy, in which Miss P. begs to join, I remain your ever affectionate aunt.
TO MISS P.
February 4, 1849.
My dearest Jane,
1 rejoice that I am once more permitted to hail the return of your natal day, and I gladly unite with the rest of your beloved friends, in wishing that every good may be your portion, and that your future days may all be marked in your remembrance as days of peace and blessing. May you long continue to shed the balm of your hallowed influence over our happy home, and may you still, like your favourite flower, diffuse a refreshing fragrance far beyond the circle enlivened by your presence: thus blessing and blessed, may you enjoy life to its utmost verge, cheered and sustained by the presence of the Saviour, and finally rejoice in a reunion with the loved but not the lost, before His throne in glory everlasting.
In remembrance of this happy day, I unite with my dearest George in begging you to accept, along with our kindest love, a memento, which I trust you will find useful. With the warmest affection, believe me ever to remain your attached friend.
TO MISS A. FISHWICK.
March 15, 1849.
My very dear Anne,
I was much gratified by the receipt of your interesting token, and I fully intended acknowledging it yesterday, but was prevented; so, to shew you that you were not forgotten, I sent a “Bolton Chronicle,” which we had received on account of the particulars it contained of Mr. Rothwell's funeral; but I see it is copied into the “Watchman,” so that it will now be very extensively read, and I trust will be useful in impressing on many minds, the necessity of being in a constant preparation for that event which is rapidly approaching each of us; and which may come upon any of us as suddenly as it did upon Mr. R. Oh, my dear Anne, may these solemn visitations be the means of stirring us up, and making us more full. on the stretch to enjoy a larger measure of that peace which passeth understanding.
I am thankful to say my cough, about which my kind friends have been concerned, is nearly gone, and I feel much better than I did a month or five weeks ago.
We are much obliged by your thinking of us when you saw
Miss N.'s beautiful pictures. I assure you it is a feeling we fully reciprocate;
and when I sit alone in my rocking chair in the dining-room, my thoughts are
often with you, and I rejoice to believe you are endeavouring to improve your
own opportunities and talents, and to increase the comfort and. happiness all
around you. This is the most direct way, to realize all the pleasure that can
be enjoyed below.
Now that the beautiful spring is coming, you will be enjoying many pleasant
rambles, alike beneficial to your health and spirits. It is indeed very cheering
to look upon the face of nature as it bursts forth from the trammels of winter,
and springs again into life and loveliness: it always seems to me such a type
and pledge of the final. resurrection, that I have often found its contemplation
as profitable as a sermon.
Excuse this very untidy note: I have been interrupted, and am not in a writing mood, therefore you must exercise great patience and charity; and believe that my only reason for writing under such disadvantages, is the wish I feel to convince you, that you are fondly remembered by your very affectionate aunt.
About this, time, an invalid's chair was procured. for Mrs. F. as the exertion of stepping into a carriage had become too much. In this she could be wheeled round the garden, and to the house of prayer, without fatigue. While thus her strength was weakened in the midst of her days, she meekly and cheerfully acquiesced in the will of her Heavenly Father; and gratified all around her by the pleasure she evinced, in being permitted in this circumscribed way, again to enjoy the beauties of nature, and occasionally to mingle her praises with the great congregation.
Shortly after this an accident occurred to Mr. F. and his man, in journeying, which might have been attended with fatal consequences to both. The horse took fright at the passing of a railway train, and both were thrown out of the conveyance. Mr. F. had a most severe bruise on the hand, and the man's leg was fractured. Mrs. F. thus writes to Miss F. on the occasion.
April 3, 1849.
My very dear friend,
We do indeed see abundant cause for gratitude; for it seems little less than a miracle that either Mr. F. or John had not a fractured skull. According to human appearance, if John's leg had not been fast, he would have gone with force against the wall; as it was. his head was hurt by it; so that really gratitude for their preservation from still worse injury, seems to have overpowered every other feeling, except anxiety as to John's future state. So far, both Mr. F. and John have done well.
I think, which ever way I look at it, I see that mercy has mingled with every minute circumstance connected with it. Oh, may we never forget the loving kindness of the Lord.
What shall I render to my God
For all his gifts to me!
I am truly sorry to learn that Miss H. is such an invalid. The Lord is wise in all His dispensations, and is doubtless preparing her to fulfil His gracious designs; but one can scarcely help regretting that she should be laid aside from active usefulness, till one remembers that such a discipline may be necessary to feed the flame of piety, which is the source of all her zeal and untiring efforts to benefit others. Oh, what a scene of wonder will open to the view, when the mysteries of Providence are all revealed.
And now, the wondrous scene she here anticipated has opened to her astonished vision, and she sees in unclouded light, what not seeing she then believed, that her Heavenly Father doeth all things well. This as a season of painful discipline to Mrs. F. Shortly after writing the above, she became suddenly and seriously worse. A violent cough shook her enfeebled frame; strength and appetite failed; while her breathing became so difficult, that any movement seemed too much for her. Medical advice was called in, and perfect rest and quiet enjoined. Meantime Mr. F.'s hand became much worse, and he also was completely laid aside: for nearly a week he was compelled to keep his room.
To Mrs. F. this was no small trial. Her active and well directed abilities, as a nurse, combined with her general knowledge of medicine, rendered her services invaluable in the sick chamber; above all, she delighted to minister with her own hands to the comfort of her beloved husband. Now she could not even see him, for she was quite unable to ascend the stairs, and Mr. F. was not allowed to leave his bed; but patience had its perfect work, and she meekly bowed in unmurmuring submission, her spirit saying
Seems it right to thee, O my Father God,
Then I weep no more, but bless the rod.
When in comparatively restored health, they again met, it was with heartfelt joy and gratitude to the Giver of all. their mercies. Well do some fond hearts remember the gush of pleasure which thrilled throughout the household, when they were permitted together to enjoy the balmy and. refreshing breezes of spring:— the silent tear, the murmured benison that followed them, spoke volumes.
During this affliction, the lines entitled the “Border Land,” fell into Mrs. F.'s hands. She was much pleased with the sentiments they contained, and often read them with deep feeling, and with her own peculiarly effective intonation of voice. As many of her friends may be gratified to read what she so much admired, they are copied entire.
THE BORDER LAND.
I HAVE been to a land, a Border Land,
Where there was but a strange, dim light;
Where shadows and dreams, in a spectral band,
Seem'd real to the aching sight.
1 scarce bethought me how there I came,
Or if thence I should pass again;
Its morning and night were marked by the flight,
Or coming, of woe and pain.
But I saw from this land, this Border Land,
With its mountain ridges hoar,
That they looked across to a wondrous strand,
A bright and unearthly shore.
Then I turned me to Him, “the Crucified,”
In most humble faith and prayer,
Who had ransom'd with blood my sinful soul,
For I thought He would call me there.
Yet nay: for awhile in the Border Land
He bade me in patience stay,
And gather rich fruits, with a trembling hand,
Whilst He chased its glooms away;
He had led me among those shadows dim,
And shown me that bright world so near,
To teach me that earnest trust in Him,
Is I the one thing needful' here.
And so from the land, the Border Land,
I have turned me to earth once more;
But earth and its works were such trifles, scann,d
By the light of that radiant shore.
And oh! should they ever possess me again
Too deeply, in heart and hand,
I must think how empty they seem’d, and vain,
From the heights of the Border Land.
The Border Land had depths and vales,
Where. sorrow for sin was known;
Where small seem'd great, as weighed in scales,
Held by God's hand alone.
‘Twas a land where earthly pride was naught,
Where the poor were brought to mind,
With their scanty bed, their fireless cot,
And their bread so hard to find.
But little I heard in the Border Land
Of all that passed below;
The once loud voices of human life
To the deafened ear were low.
I was deaf to the clang of its trumpet call,
And alike to its gibe or its sneer,
Its riches were dust, and the loss of all
Would then scarce have cost a tear.
I met with a Friend in this Border Land,
Whose teachings can come with power
To the blinded eye, and the deafened ear,
In affliction's loneliest hour.
Times of refreshing to the soul,
In languor, oft He brings,
Prepares it then to meditate
On high and glorious things.
Oh! Holy Ghost! too often griev'd
In health and earthly haste,
I bless those slow and silent hours
Which seemed to run to waste.
I would not but have passed those I depths,
And such communion known,
As can be held in the Border Land
With Thee, and Thee alone.
I have been to a land, a Border Land!
May oblivion never roll
O'er the mighty lessons which there and then
Have been graven on my soul!
I have trodden a path I did not know,
Safe in my Saviour's hand:
I can trust Him for all the future,
now I have been to the Border Land.
On recovering a little from this severe attack, Mrs. P. writes thus to her attached friend, Miss F.
May 24, 1849.
My very dear friend,
I owe you many, many thanks for your kind concern about me and mine. Your notes have been like cordials administered by the hand of one who had herself tested their efficacy, and like the refreshing rain to the parched ground. I am thankful to say we are both now much better, though I am still — as indeed I am likely to be — a poor helpless creature; but I have found so much benefit from complete rest and quiet, that I am afraid to relinquish it. I have learned some lessons which I shall not soon forget; neither shall I ever forget the kindness of my dear friends, both present and absent. Miss P. has been unwearied in her attention to us both. It has been all mercy, and we desire with our spared lives to acknowledge “the goodness of the Lord.”
The following is a letter to her niece, Miss A. R, on leaving school.
June, 1849.
My dearest Anne,
We were obliged by your kind note, informing us of the time of your return home, where I assure you, my love, you will receive a most cordial welcome, and where I trust you will find that pleasure and happiness which you doubtless have so long anticipated; but which I believe you already know is not derived from any change of place or circumstance alone. It is to be found in the active and useful employment of our time and talents, and in the enjoyment of His cheering presence, in whose favour is life. Every change in our situation calls for increased watchfulness and prayer, for our great adversary is ever on the alert to take advantage of us when entering upon new or untried scenes. May you, my dear Anne, be preserved from all his attacks, and by the shield of faith — being covered with the armour of righteousness — may you be enabled to resist him in every combat, and finally be brought off more than conqueror through the blood of the Lamb. I am sorry that neither your uncle nor I shall be able to meet you at Preston, but I expect your sisters will; and we shall gladly greet your arrival home, where I trust we shall have many happy days together. I can enter into the feelings with which you will leave the kind friends and endeared scenes of your early days; for I well remember what I felt when leaving school — it is like a waymark in the journey of life. May all your future course bear testimony to the benefit you have derived from the past. I am sure you will ever cherish grateful recollections of the kindness that has been invariably shown you; and the best return you can make is to do credit to the instructions you have received.