In the year 1822, Mrs. Prior visited the families on Bowery hill, where she had resided the three previous years; thoroughly acquainted herself with their moral condition and necessities; established a school for poor children; commenced her long-continued weekly visits for conversation and prayer with the pupils, and secured the sympathies and pecuniary a.s.sistance of several Christians to aid in supporting the school from year to year. She herself contributed one hundred dollars annually for its maintenance.

On the fourteenth of September, 1829, this good woman again became a widow. Previous to this date she had lost her seventh child, and an adopted one. She had also taken a second motherless child into her family. About the year her second husband died, Bowery hill was dug away, and she changed her residence.

When, in the early part of 1833, the Moral Reform society was organized, she became a prominent member of its board of managers, and, four years afterwards, commenced, under its patronage, her memorable labors as a city missionary. These she continued till 1842, in which year, on the seventh of April, her earthly work was finished.

Two or three incidents connected with her labors as a missionary, will show, in part, at least, the character of her work and the philanthropic spirit by which she was ever actuated.

As she was once pa.s.sing through the streets, she was accosted by a lady who inquired her name, and wished to know if she did not belong to the society which had opened a register of direction for the accommodation of respectable females. Ascertaining that she was not mistaken in the person, the stranger told Mrs. Prior that two female acquaintances of hers were out of work, had become reduced to want, and were so wretched as to threaten to drown themselves, unless they soon found a situation.

They had been working for houses connected with the southern trade which had failed, and thus thrown them out of employment. Learning their residence, Mrs. Prior visited them immediately; told them of the enormity of the crime they had threatened to commit; that she would try to secure work for them, and that it was their duty to seek the grace of G.o.d to sustain them in such trying seasons. The next day she found situations for them in pious families, and thus, while she probably saved them from committing suicide, she was, perhaps, the instrument, in the hands of G.o.d, of saving them from infamy and eternal ruin.

Pa.s.sing through the suburbs of the city one day, her attention was arrested by the chime of youthful voices. Seeing that the music proceeded from some little beggar-girls, who were sitting in the sun beside the fence and singing a Sabbath school hymn, she inquired of them what they were doing, when the following dialogue occurred: "We were cold, ma'am, and are getting warm in the sun." "Where do you live?" "In Twentieth street, ma'am." "Why have you come so far away from your homes?" "To get some food and some things to make a fire." "Why were you singing?" "To praise G.o.d: we go to the Sunday school, and our teacher says if we are good children G.o.d will never let us want." Pleased with the modest and artless answers to her questions, the good woman took them across the street, procured each of them a loaf of bread, gave them some pious counsel, and left them with smiles on their faces and grat.i.tude in their hearts.

Mrs. Prior frequently visited the city prison, and on occasion[78] went to Sing Sing. She made a record of her visit to the latter place, from which we make an extract: "In visiting the female convicts at their cells on Sabbath morning, after Sabbath school, which, under the customary regulations, we were permitted to do, we found nearly all employed in reading their Bibles. We conversed with them respecting the welfare of their souls, and as we knelt with them at the throne of grace, they on one side of the grated door and we on the other, we felt that He who healed a Mary Magdalene, is still the same compa.s.sionate Saviour, and our faith, we trust, apprehended him as the atoning sacrifice, who bore our sins in his own body on the tree, and opened a way for the salvation of even the chief of sinners."

[78] June, 1840.

Being on an errand of mercy in G---- street one day, she stepped into a house of infamy to leave a certain tract. As soon as she had entered and made known her mission, the door was closed and locked by one of the female inmates, who told her that she was their prisoner. "For a moment," writes Mrs. Prior, in her journal, "my heart was tremulous; I said nothing till the risings of fear were quelled, and then replied pleasantly, 'Well, if I'm a prisoner, I shall pray here, and would sing praises to G.o.d if I were not so hoa.r.s.e. Yes, bless the Lord! his presence can make me happy here or any where, and you can have no power to harm me unless he gives it. This is a dreadful place, to be sure, but it is not so bad as h.e.l.l; for there, there is no hope. The smoke of their torment ascendeth up for ever and ever! What a mercy that we are not all there! what compa.s.sion in the blessed Jesus that he spares us, when our sins are every day so great.' I talked to them in this manner till they were glad to open the door as a signal for my release."

Such were the doings, such was the character, of Margaret Prior. We see her organizing week-day and Sabbath schools, industrial a.s.sociations and temperance societies; establishing soup houses and orphan asylums; visiting the sick, the poor, the idle, the culprit, the outcast; pointing the dying to a risen Saviour, leading the dest.i.tute by the hand to the place of relief, the idle to houses of industry, and warning the outlaw and the corrupt of the certain and terrible doom that would attend persistency in their downward course. With the sweetness, gentleness, simplicity, and delicacy, so becoming in woman under all circ.u.mstances, were blended in her character, energy that was unconquerable, courage that danger could not blench, and firmness that human power could not bend. The contemplation of such a character is superficial, if it does not prompt benevolent feelings, re-affirm virtuous resolutions, and revive and strengthen drooping piety.

n.o.bLE ACTS OF KINDNESS.

We are to relieve the distressed, to put the wanderer in the way, and divide our bread with the hungry.--SENECA.

The Rev. Thomas Andros, of Berkley, Ma.s.sachusetts, was a firm patriot and a keen sufferer in the strife for freedom. He was captured whilst on board a privateer, and transferred to the Jersey prison ship. In the autumn of 1781, he escaped; and, skulking through the east end of Long Island, received at the hands of females such marks of pity and kindness as were thought worthy of noting in his journal. The following are extracts:

"I came to a respectable dwelling-house and entered it. Among the inmates were a decent woman and a tailor. To the woman I expressed my want of something to nourish my feeble frame, telling her if she would give me a morsel, it would be a mere act of charity. She made no objection, asked no questions, but promptly furnished me with the dish of light food I desired. Expressing my obligations to her, I rose to depart. But going round through another room, she met me in the front entry, placed a hat on my head, put an apple pie in my hand, and said, 'you will want this before you get through the woods.' I opened my mouth to give vent to the grateful feelings with which my heart was filled.

But she would not tarry to hear a word, and instantly vanished. The mystery of her conduct I suppose was this: she was satisfied that I had escaped from prison, and if she granted me any succor, knowing me to be such, it might cost her family the confiscation of their estate. She did not therefore wish to ask me any questions or hear me explain who I was in the hearing of the tailor, who might turn informer. This mark of kindness was more than I could well bear, and as I went on the tears flowed copiously! The recollection of her humanity and pity revives in my breast even now the same feeling of grat.i.tude.

"Some time after, in Suffolk county, being repulsed from one dwelling, I entered another, and informed the mistress of the house of my wants. By the cheerfulness and good-nature depicted in her countenance and first movements, I knew my suit was granted, and I had nothing more to say than to apprise her I was penniless. In a few moments she placed on the table a bowl of bread and milk, a dried bluefish roasted, and a mug of cider, and said, 'sit down and eat.'

"It was now growing dark, so I went but a short distance further, entered a house, and begged the privilege of lodging by the fire. My request was granted. There was no one in the house but the man and his wife. They appeared to be cordial friends to each other--it was indeed one of the few happy matches. Before it became late in the evening the man took his Bible and read a chapter. He then arose and offered up his grateful acknowledgments and supplications to G.o.d through the Mediator.

I now began to think I had got into a safe and hospitable retreat. They had before made many inquiries such as indicated that they felt tenderly and took an interest in my welfare. I now confessed my situation to them. All was silence. It took some time to recover themselves from a flood of tears. At last the kind woman said, 'Let us go and bake his clothes.' No sooner said than the man seized a brand of fire and threw it into the oven. The woman provided a clean suit of clothes to supply the place of mine till they had purified them by fire. The work done, a clean bed was laid down on which I was to rest, and rest I did as in a new world; for I had got rid of a swarm of cannibals who were eating me up alive! In the morning I took my leave of this dear family with a grat.i.tude that for fifty years has suffered no abatement."[79]

[79] Mr. Andros thus describes the old Jersey: "Her dark and filthy exterior corresponded with the death and despair reigning within. It is supposed that eleven thousand American seamen perished in her. None came to relieve their woes. Once or twice, by order of a stranger on the quarter-deck, a bag of apples was hurled promiscuously into the midst of hundreds of prisoners, crowded as thick as they could stand--and life and limbs were endangered in the struggle. The prisoners were secured between the decks by iron gratings; and when the ship was to be cleared of water, an armed guard forced them up to the winches, amid a roar of execrations and reproaches--the dim light adding to the horrors of the scene. Thousands died whose names have never been known; perishing when no eye could witness their fort.i.tude, nor praise their devotion to their country."

THE WIFE OF DR. RAMSAY.

Unrivalled as thy merit, be thy fame.

TICKELL.

Few women of modern times have more charmingly exhibited "the beauties of holiness" than Martha Laurens Ramsay, the wife of the historian of South Carolina. In his interesting series of lectures on the Christian graces, the Rev. Dr. Williams very happily refers to her habit of prayer, to ill.u.s.trate the spirit of brotherly kindness as shown in the mutual intercession of brethren in the same church. "It is animating,"

he writes, "and yet, as contrasted with our present remissness, humiliating, to read how Baxter and his people held days of fasting and prayer for each other; or to turn to the pages which describe a Christian matron of the South, the wife of Ramsay and the daughter of Henry Laurens, President of the Continental Congress, praying over a list of her fellow-members, name by name, and remembering, to the best of her knowledge, the cares and wants of each before the throne of grace."[80]

[80] Religious Progress, pp. 200-1.

Prior to her marriage, and whilst residing in France with her father, she received from him the handsome present of five hundred guineas.

Appropriating a very small portion of this sum to her own use, with the bulk she purchased one hundred French Testaments--all to be found in the market--and distributed them amongst the dest.i.tute in Vigan and its vicinity, and organized a school there for the instruction of youth, const.i.tuting a fund sufficient to oblite rate its annual charges.

Mrs. Ramsay was remarkably economical of time, rising early and devoting every hour to some useful service; and of money, never indulging herself in any needless expenditure. This principle of economy was observed even at her funeral. She directed that it should be at her own private house; and that her coffin should be plain and without a plate. She died on the tenth of June, 1811.

COURAGE AND PRESENCE OF MIND OF MARGARET SCHUYLER.

--Courage mounteth with occasion.

SHAKSPEARE.

In August, 1781, when the abduction of General Schuyler from his house in the suburbs of Albany, was projected, and John Waltermeyer, the bold partizan of Joseph Bettys, led a motley and blood-thirsty band--tories, Canadians and Indians--in the daring undertaking, a daughter of the General acted so courageous and wise a part as to justify us in giving on outline sketch of the unsuccessful enterprise.

As the family sat in an open door, in the evening of a very sultry day, receiving information that a stranger was waiting at the back gate to see him, General Schuyler mistrusted, at once, that something was wrong; and, instead of repairing to the gate, he instantly closed and fastened the doors, and ran to his bed chamber for his arms. He then hurried his family into the third story, where he immediately discharged a pistol to arouse the careless guards, and afterwards others, to alarm, if possible, the inhabitants of the city. In hurrying up stairs, his wife overlooked her infant, which was asleep in the cradle; and she was about to descend, when the General warned her of the danger, and held her back. Seeing her mother's agony, a daughter named Margaret, rushed down stairs into the nursery, caught the child, and was about ascending, when a tomahawk flew past her, simply grazing her dress and slightly injuring it. Hurrying up a private stairway, she was met by Waltermeyer, who roughly exclaimed, "Wench! where is your master?" With remarkable presence of mind, she answered, "Gone to alarm the town." Fearing that such might be the case, Waltermeyer called his pilfering men, who were bagging plate in the dining hall, and began a consultation. Meanwhile the General was also thinking, and devising a stratagem by which to frighten away the kidnappers. He soon threw up a window, and, in the voice of an experienced commander, cried out, "Come on, my brave fellows; surround the house and secure the villains who are plundering."

As he antic.i.p.ated, the gang, hearing these words, snapped the thread of their consultation, and tested the nimbleness of their feet. The reports of the General's arms had alarmed the people of the city, and they came to the rescue just in season to be unneeded.

n.o.bLE TREATMENT OF ENEMIES.

----True religion Is always mild, propitious and humble, Plays not the tyrant, plants no faith in blood; Nor bears destruction on her chariot wheels; But stoops to polish, succor, and redress, And builds her grandeur on the public good.

MILLER'S MAHOMET.

Among the early converts to Christianity in the Cherokee tribe, were a few women, who formed themselves into a society for propagating the Gospel. They felt its expanding power, and, though poor, were anxious to do something for those who were not sharing in the same blessing. The proceeds of their first year's efforts, were about ten dollars; and while deliberating on the manner of its appropriation, one of the members suggested that it be devoted to the promotion of religion among the Osages, giving as a reason that they were the greatest enemies of the Cherokees, and that the Bible teaches Christians to do good to such.

HUMANITY REWARDED.

----I should some kindness show them.

SHAKSPEARE.

Among the early settlements of New Hampshire, were several on the Piscataqua river, in the neighborhood of the present town of Dover. For awhile the aborigines and whites were on amicable terms, and the former not unfrequently paid the latter a friendly visit. On one of those occasions, a pappoos was suddenly seized with illness, and its mother was obliged to remain several days. She found shelter and accommodations with a widow, who received her cordially, and nursed the feeble infant as her own. Such kindness would not be forgotten, even by savages; and when, after the lapse of years, the bow was bent and the hatchet raised against the settlement where the widow resided, the Indians placed a strong guard around her house; and, though the butchery was terrible, she and her family were unharmed.