God's Adjustment of His People to Their Position

Probably, in no part of God’s dealings with His people is the perfection of His work more apparent — His wisdom, love, and power more clearly seen — than in fitting them for the exact niche in life He had pre-ordained them to fill. And it is no slight mercj for the Christian to have a clear, unmistakable perception of the Lord’s mind concerning this matter; and then, be his mission lowly or exalted, his post of duty one of honour or humiliation, to have grace vouchsafed cheerfully to acquiesce, and promptly to obey. Thus had God remarkably fitted the subject of our Memoir for the position in life in which she was now, and for so many years in sad and lonely widowhood, to glorify Him. The path she was henceforth to tread, demanded a character of no ordinary energy, fortitude, and strength; but more than this — and apart from which the mightiest powers of nature must have succumbed — a large degree of the Saviour’s grace, so freely promised, and so richly bestowed upon all who humbly seek it. But, great as was the occasion which now summoned into action the best powers of her mind, by the help of Him who perfects His strength in human weakness, she proved herself equal to the emergency. And we will glorify God in her.

The retirement of Captain AYinslow from the army has already been mentioned. The circumstances which led to this step it may be interesting to the reader more minutely to relate. It was at a critical period of her life — when dangerously ill in Ireland — that the 47th Regiment was under orders to embark for India. The troops had left Cork for Portsmouth, and were prepared to sail at a moment’s notice; the wind was unfavourable, and the transports were detained. It was a moment of intense anxiety to Captain “Winslow. Unwilling to leave his wife under such circumstances, and with no prospect of hearing from her for many months to come, he resolved, without a moment’s hesitation, to retire. Permission to sell was asked from the Duke of York — the Commander-in-Chief. Mrs. Winslow’s illness increased — the Duke hesitated — a slight variation of the wind would decide the question. The suspense was agonizing. At length the Colonel of the regiment handed him a letter from head-quarters, containing the Duke’s consent. In less than an hour afterwards the wind veered, and the sailed; and Captain AVinslow relinquished a commission in the army he had held from early life, with equal honour to himself and fidelity to his sovereign. Thus, often do the most signal events of our history — those upon which all the future turns as on a pivot — transpire as in a moment, and by a power manifestly beyond ourselves. This were a phenomenon utterly inexplicable, but for the doctrine of a particular Providence, guiding and shaping the minutest as the most important events of our life. Nothing could have been further from his thoughts than the position in which Captain “Winslow now suddenly found himself. A few hours before, he could not have conceived that he should be walking on the ramparts of Portsmouth, gazing upon the transports as they spread their canvas to the fair breeze, and stretched away to the ocean. This sudden and decisive step was, upon first reflection, a cause of much disappointment and regret to Mrs. “Winslow, who had looked forward to the army — for which, from habit, she had now imbibed a strong liking — as the future profession of her sons. She lived, however, to acknowledge God’s hand in this apparently adverse movement, and gratefully to acquiesce in a circumstance which threatened to blight so much hope, but which, in reality, resulted in so much good. And although her interest in military affairs never entirely ceased, yet as her Christianity deepened, she desired, and sought for her children other and more peaceful, yet not less honorable and useful vocations.

Some years after Captain AVinslow’s retirement from the army, his ample fortune became seriously impaired through ill-advised and disastrous investments. It was this circumstance — an important link in the chain of events, evolving God’s purposes of love — that suggested a removal to the United States of America, as offering wider scope for a family composed almost entirely of boys, and a place of residence more favourable to resources now sadly crippled. Accordingly, at the close of the Peninsular war, the subject of this Memoir, accompanied by a family of ten children and several of her attached household, embarked for New York. Her husband — %yhom she was desirous of preceding, with a view of welcoming him, on his arrival, to a new and pleasant home — was to follow her in a few months. It was a novel and a serious undertaking for a female, lone and unaided, — her eldest son jet a minor, and her youngest child an infant at the breast. Writers of taste have been wont to expatiate with great eloquence and feeling upon the sublimity presented in the spectacle of a woman educated amidst the elesancies and induls:- ences of prosperous life, meeting the sudden reverses of fortune with fortitude, and proving the comforter and the support of her husband when bowed beneath the stern blast of adversity. “As the vine, which has long twined its graceful foliage about the oak, and been lifted by it into sunshine, will, when the hardy plant is rifted by the thunderbolt, cling round it with its caressing tendrils, and bind up its shattered’ boughs; so it is beautifully ordained by Providence, that woman, who is the mere dependent and ornament of man in their happier hours, shall be his stay and solace when smitten with sudden calamity; windino; herself into the rusrsfed recesses of his nature, tenderly supporting the drooping head, and binding up the broken heart.”* At no period of Mrs. Winslow’s life did her mental force and decision of character appear more transcendent than now. The reverse of fortune, which well-nigh crushed the spirits of her husband, but served to nerve and animate her own. The calamity which despondingly depressed him, gave intrepidity and elevation to her. She struck upon an expedient and resolved upon its execution. Few individuals, yet fewer of her gentle sex, could have braced themselves to responsibilities so great, or would have submitted to sacrifices so costly. To expatriate herself from a land of such endeared associations — voluntarily to relinquish a home of such luxurious comforts, and a circle of friendships so choice — to adjust herself with such grace to altered circumstances — to confront with firmness new difiBculties, and enter cheerfully upon unknown trials, called into play no ordinary powers, and fully realized the exquisite picture of woman in adversity, as sketched with so much elegance and truth by the American writer we have quoted, and for which, so accurate in the resemblance, she might have sat as the original.

* Washington Irving.

It was in the month of June. 1^15. accompanied by her responsible charge, she embarked from Gravesend for New York. The Divine precept, “Seek ve first the kingdom of God and His righteousness,’’ was still her sruidinsr star. Havmg engaged for her large party of ten children and her ser-Tants, the entire cabin of the vessel, she was not long in consecrating it to the service of God. As soon as possible, the familv altar was again reared, and throughout the vovae she was enabled to maintain morning and evening worship; and during the day to carry out her little plans of domestic instruction and usefulness, with the same regularity and zeal as at home. In this God remarkably aided her. For when the voice of praise and prayer first ascended to the deck, the captain, on ascertaining the cause, immediately gave the strictest orders that all interruption should cease during the service; and he was frequently observed quietly to descend the companion-way, take o3’ his hat. and kneel outside the cabin during the prayer. He was subsequently invited, with a few others, who requested the favour, regularly to unite in the family devotions. Thus did God honour one who, in her conscious weakness but godly sincerity, everywhere sought to honour Him. It was a favourite maxim of hers, which manv readers of this volume will recognise, “^Valk in the precept, and God will fulfil the promised’ In the intermediate part of the ship she discovered a yoimg lady, far advanced in a decline, and who, with her little son, was on her wav to rejoin her husband. She immediately had her removed to her own cabin, that she might administer to her temporal comfort and that the invahd migh tenjoy the daily religious privileges of the family. Thus, one who was destined to expire with the fiirst breath she inhaled of the land air — for she died as the ship dropped her anchor in the placid waters of the Hudson, 4ind before she met her husband — was permitted, ere she tn- ^tered the eternal world, to hear frequently explained, and affectionately enforced, the grand theme of” the gospel — that Christ Jesus came into the world to save the chief of sinners. Mrs. TTinslow foimd, in the land of her adoption, a home and a sanctuary. Furnished with introductions to some of the leading families of New York, amongst whom were Colonel Bayard, formerly of the British Consula’te, and Divie Bethune, the son-in-law and biographer of Mrs. Isabella Graham, she was solaced with the reflection that, though an exile, and in adversitj, she was not without that sympathy and kindness which to none is more welcome and soothing than to the lone heart of the stranger. And, as the circle of her friendships widened, enriched by some of the most eminent for Christian influence and worth, she soon discovered the continent that had attracted her to its friendly coasts to be in hospitality and courtesy, as in language and religion, the affectionate daughter of the land she had left. And when, in after years, she quitted its shores, to spend the evening of her life, and die, amid earlier scenes and older friendships, the recollection of the land that had afforded her a pleasant asylum in adversity, she still warmly and gratefully cherished. America was hallowed ground to her. The history of her sojourn upon its soil had engraven its name more deeply and ineffaceably on her heart than “France” was said to have been on the heart of Mary Queen of Scots. Her interest in its prosperity never decreased. Its religious literature, the histories of its churches, and, especially, the biographies of its saints, beguiled, happily, many an hour of her closing pilgrimage. She contemplated it with a kind of prophetic interest. Its vast territory, its exhaustless capabilities, and its glorious revivals, impressed her

with the conviction that America was destined to be the future home of the church, the Mount Ararat, where the Ark would repose from the storms and convulsions of the Old T”orld, the hemisphere upon which would dawn the first light of the millennial glory. There was but one dark spot in its history, over which she wept; and many a fervent petition she sent up to heaven for its removal. That spot effaced, America would stand forth peerless amongst the nations of the earth. Give her entire population equal rights and liberty — civil and religious — and she will soar in national greatness and in moral influence, like her own symbolic eagle, to the sun.

And yet it was in this land that she was made to drink mosta deeply of the waters of adversity. She had scarcely becomp settled in her new and pleasant home ere death invaded it. The infant daughter she had borne across the Atlantic sickened and died. This was the first draught from sorrow’s cup. That cup was now to be brimmed. While the corpse of her babe lay yet unentombed, the woeful intelligence reached her that she was a ividovj! “Deep calleth mito deep at the noise of thy waterspouts; all thy waves and thy billows are gone over me.” Such was now her mournful experience. He letters written at this sad period of her history, a few of wliicli only are preserved, will best depict the deep and varied exercises of her mind under this overwhelming calamity. Addressing her eldest son, then in Bermuda, who, on receiving the tidings of his father’s death, hastened to England, she thus writes: —

“My precious Child, — New York 1816.

“Your dear mother is under the chastening hand of God. My dear suffering infant lies a corpse: and the letter containing the intelligence of your dear father’s and my beloved husband’s death, was this day put into my hands. I am humbled under the miirhtv hand of God. My soul is bowed down. The death of my child was almost overwhelming; but the death of my dear, my precious, my ever-to-be-lamented husband, is the heaviest aflliction I have ever met with. I trust the Lord will yet enable me to say, Thy will 0 God, not mine, he done! I wish you could have been there. Oh, that you had been in time to have closed his eyes! I need comfort. I am in a strange place. The Lord help me and increase my faith! The Lord have mercy upon me, for I am in trouble. I trust his soul and the dear departed spirit of my infant are now rejoicing together in glory. That is my only comfort. I am too much affiicted to write more. May God bless you, my child, prays your truly afflicted, widowed mother.”

But overwhelming as was this affliction, God, whose chastenings are always tempered with mercy, left her not without strong consolation. It was not in unmitigated and hopeless grief that she wept. The last illness and closing scene of Captain Winslow’s life afforded satisfactory evidence that he had sought and found the Saviour. His conviction of sin was deep, and his believing reliance upon the atoning merits of the Redeemer earnest and childlike. He died in the assured hope of an humble penitent, a sincere believer, “looking for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ unto eternal life.” Such was the inexpressible comfort provided by Him whose hand had now slain her fondest earthly treasure. She now saw the fruit of her long travail of soul. Her prayers were answered, though as by fire. “Thou calledst in trouble, and I delivered thee; I answered thee in the secret place of thunder: I proved thee at the waters of Meribah.” The long-sought mercy came — her husband was saved; but the blessing was draped in woe. ‘By terrible things in righteousness’ God had answered her, and her ’ song was of mercy and judgment.’ The blow fell, however, with crushing effect. Her mental distress seemed to baffle the kindest efforts of her pastor and her friends to soothe. Her soul refused to be comforted. To the deep sorrow of bereavement was now added the yet deeper anguish of spiritual darkness and despondency. Satan was permitted to buffet her, and, for a time, the dark waters went over her soul. Thus the cal-amity that at once withered her lovely flower, and broke the ‘strong staff and the beautiful rod,’ was augmented by a momentary suspension of the Divine presence. It was at this juncture the following hymn of her favourite author, Newton, read casually to her by her son E, spoke the first consolation to her sad heart.

“I ask’d the Lord that I might grow
In faith, and love, and every grace,
Might more of his salvation know,
And seek more earnestly his lace.

*’ ‘Twas he who taught me thus to pray,
And he, I trust, has answered prayer;
But it has been in such a way
As almost drove me to despair.

‘• I hoped that in some favourd hour
At once he”d answer my request.
And by his love’s constraining power
Subdue my sins, and give me rest.

“Instead of this, he made me feel
The hidden evils of my heart,
And let the angry powers of heU
Assault my soul in every part.

“Yea, more; with his own hand he seem’d
Intent to aggravate my woe, — Cross’ d all the fair designs I schemed,
Blasted my gourds, and laid me low.

“‘Lord! why is this?’ I trembling cried:

‘Wilt thou pursue thy worm to death V
’ ‘Tis in this way,’ the Lord replied,
‘I answer prayer for grace and faith.

“‘These ‘inward trials I employ,

From self and pride to set thee free;
And break thy schemes of earthly joy,
Ihat thou may’st seek thy all in me.’”

IIow well calculated were these richly experimental breathings to pour the oil of soothing over the broken waters now suro-ins: her soul! Bereaved Christian, the same fount of consolalion is yours. Approach, and drink abundantly. Your pleasant picture is, perhaps, destroyed, your beauteous flower has faded, your sheltering arm is withered; but Jesus is yours, your deathless Friend, the Brother born for your adversity, and you have in Him all, and infinitely more, that was lovely and loving:, tender and protective, in the treasure you have lost. This is but the Lord’s all-wise and righteous mode of drawing you into a greater nearness to Himself

We continue a few of the letters addressed to her eldest son at this period of her grief What a beauteous bow appears in the dark cloud of her afflictions! Blessed discipline that results in such weanedness!

“My dearest Child, — ^’ew York, Feb. 7, 1816.

“I have but little spirits to write, but as I know you will be anxious to hear from me, I have struggled with my feelings to gratify you. The Lord has indeed laid His chastening hand upon 3’our afflicted mother. My precious, my beloved husband I shall see no more in the liesh. But, oh, what a comfort to my soul that I shall meet him at the right hand of God! I grieve at his sufferings, and in imagination I am ever hoveriiio- round his bed. Mv soul has been bowed down, and I was afraid I should at first sink under so heavy an affliction. Wave upon wave, bitter upon bitter. But the Lord has said. As thy day, so shall thy strength he; and He has

been faithful to His promise. E has proved himself a

dear child; he has been everything to me, at this trying time, that I could wish. How gracious is the Lord to me! It is my Father that has chastened me, and it shall be for my good and His glory. Now, my precious child, you are my most anxious concern. You will need wisdom from above to direct, and grace to uphold you every moment. Keep close to a throne of grace, and doubt not the God of all grace will give

you both. Give my love to. It soothed my sorrow to

know that I possessed the love and friendship of some of God’s

dearest, choicest people. Tell dear Miss M I feel very

grateful for her letter; for though it cost me many tears, y<4 it was by far the most satisfactory one I have had, and my heart has thanked her for it a thousand times. Oh, that I could have sat by his bedside as she did! Mysterious are the ways of God! This bereaving providence has done more to wean me from the world, and show me the importance of eternal things, than jou can imagine. Blessed be God for all His dispensations, the evil as well as the good.

******

“I am at times miserable indeed beyond conception. Past scenes crowd upon my mind, and unavailing regrets seem to overwhelm my better feelings. I have truly been laid low in the dust, and abhor myself as the chief of sinners. For some days Satan desired to have me, to sift me as wheat; darkness overpowered my mind; doubts and fears respecting my everlasting safety crowded upon me. This, too, was after I had thought myself resigned to the will of God, and began to be interested in my family concerns. I see it was the enemy. Oh, that I had never left your precious father. See Mr. Shepherd, and bee: he will relate to you exactly every word that passed between him and my dear husband before he died. My severe trials have awakened a general sympathy among the dear people of God, who have visited and endeavoured to comfort me; but vain is the help of man; God alone can comfort. Dr. Stamford, an excellent minister, called upon me, and preached afterwards a sermon on the occasion of my bereavement, from the words, — Show me wherefore thou contendest imth me; but I coidd not hear it, though I am told it was excellent.”

“While it is painful to trace the bitter and unjust self-accusations contained in the following letter, it is at the same time dehghtful to observe how richly the ‘rod” blossomed’ with the holy fruits of her deeply-sanctified grief.

“My beloved Child, — New York, May 28, 1816.

“I have received your letter to-day, for which I have been just thanking my God and your God, the Father to the fatherless and the widow’s God. I am thankful that He has supported you under the severest trial you have been called to meet with since you entered the vale of tears — the loss of your dear, your precious father. Neither you nor I knew half his worth. The Lord gave us a treasure, but we knew not its value until too late. I hope this has been a siftmg tmie with you, as it has been with your poor mother. How great a backslider have I been! How did I let my vile heart go

6:1: MFLMOIR OF MRS. MARY V.TXSLOW.

out after covetousness, and wander from the jDatli of dutv, when I loft my beloved husband! Oh, my dear child, this thought had well-nigh drove me to despair. But, blessed be the rock of my salvation, that, though in some measure He has suffered me to be sifted as wheat, and the enemy to come like a flood, the Spirit helped my infirmities, and I was through Him enabled to keep a fast hold on the covenant which is ordered in all things and sure. My Father has chastened me, but his loving-kindness he has not taken from me, nor su0”ered his faithfulness to fail. It has been good for me that I have been afflicted. Oh, my child, self-righteousness, self-will, and a covetous spirit have led me far astray; but the Lord has overruled even these hated sins for my good, and the salvation of the precious soul of your dear beloved father. All is well. Soon we shall meet again; and this is my great consolation. We are in a strange land; but the God of Jacob is my God, and the God of my fatherless ones. England is highly privileged for the precious means of grace; but we have here the simple truths of the gospel, and much sterling piety amongst professors.... Lord, have mercy upon me, and let me see Thy hand in this! Lead my mind to contemplate him where he now is. For millions of worlds would he not return. But still my widowed heart aches, and will ache while I live; and yet I trust the Lord has reconciled, or will reconcile me to His blessed will. But I have touched a chord that unfits me almost for evervthinsr.

“May the Lord watch over you, and bring you in safety to me. I have so many mercies for which I desire to be thankful, but I am full of misgivings and unbelief, often ready to exclaim. All these things are against me I The Lord has supported me under a heavy and deep affliction; what more hes before me, He only knows luho worketh all things after the counsel of His own will Mj mind is often greatly exercised, but the Lord has said. Leave tluj fatherless children; I iv ill preserve them alive. To Him do I desire to look, and in Him will I trust. The promise is. Seek ye first the kingdom of God and Ills righteousness and all things else shall he added unto you. Did I not hope to see the salvation of the Lord in the land of the living, I should sink in despair. Oh, your dear father! I mourn. It is no sin to weep: Jesus wept at the grave of Lazaru?; Mary and Martha wept; and may not I also weep? I wish you would go to the vault where your dear father lies, and see if there is room for your poor unwortlij mother too — I wish to lay my bones by him; if you can do this without too much distressino; your own feelino;s. I cannot account for it, but it has been the constant desire of my heart, (as I cannot see it myself,) that you should see the coffin that contains his beloved body. I shall see that body again, shining more gloriously than the brightest angel in heaven.”

We will not longer detain the reader on this mournful part of her history, than to quote a short extract from one of her letters to her eldest son, which blends a cheerino- light with the dark shadows in this picture of woe. It is instructive, and to the afflicted believer encouraging, to behold the sparklings of the gold amidst the ‘fires’ of the furnace.

“At times my spirits are low, but I know it is for my good that I have been afflicted; and I see plainly why it has been permitted, and have to acknowledge that the Lord, even in this, has not chastened me according to my backslidings. I see love and mercy directing this stroke, and I trust it will be abundantly sanctified to my soul. Your dear father is now rejoicing amongst the redeemed, and it will not be long before we shall meet again to part no more for ever. I have indeed been humbled to the very dust, and my mind brought into greater darkness and distress than I ever experienced before, in addition to my great loss. I often sat upon the floor, and wept aloud in an agony of mind impossible to describe; but the Lord has put the enemy to flight, and again blest me with a sense of His loving-kindness; so that my mind, upon the whole, is comfortable and stayed upon my God. Tribulation must be felt, or it would not be tribulation; and it is needful. I think I have learnt more of my dreadfully wicked heart, and the preciousness of Jesus, during this trial, than I ever learnt before. It has been a bitter discipline, but I hope, with God’s blessing, it will bring forth the peaceable fruits of righteousness; tending to wean me from the world and from self, and causing me to know where my great strength lieth. Let us go to the Lord, who knows best, for direction; taking care not to lay down a plan for ourselves, before we ask His counsel, lest He

leave us to smart for our folly. Thank Mrs. H, and tell

her I shall never forget her kindness to mv dear husband. It was like a Christian, and may the Lord bless her a thousand times for it. My heart is full, and I am weeping while I write.”

Q^ MEMOIR OF MRS. MARY WINSLOW.

The most touching review of this part of her history, written many years after, is from a narrative addressed to her family. We have no strong predilection in favour of dreams, nor did the subject of this Memoir regard them with superstitious reverence; and yet of old the Lord did sometimes make known His will by dreams, and even appointed individuals especially to interpret them. It was in a dream that the mystic ladder appeared to Jacob; it was by a dream that prophetic revelations were made to Joseph; and, under the New Testament dispensation, it was still by a dream that the angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph, the husband of Mary, on several occasions. And among the signs of the universal spread of the Gospel, we are prophetically told this shall be one. “It shall come to pass, that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh; your sons and your daughters shall prophesy; your old men shall dream dreams; your young men shall see visions.”* We would be cautious therefore, of speaking lightly of this mode of producing sacred impressions on the mind. “In thoughts, from the visions of the night, when deep sleep falleth on man,”f we know not what communications God may make, what truths He may illustrate, or what lessons He may teach. We should keep in mind, however, that the revealed word of God is our only and sure ’ word of prophecy, to which we do well that Ave take heed as unto a light that shineth in a dark place.’ It is thus Mrs. Winslow narrates her mental exercises at this time: —

“Soon after I was brought to the feet of Jesus, I had a remarkable dream; and although I place but little confidence in dreams in general, I think this did mean something. I thought I was in the cabin of a ship in the midst of the ocean. There were others with me. We appeared to face the windows of the cabin, from which alone we had light. I appeared with others, struggling to get nearer to the light, but some invisible being seemed to draw us back at every step we advanced towards the windovr. And still the struggle continued. My eyes were towards the light, but I could make no progress. Presently the roof of the cabin disappeared, and I saw one like an angel coming down from heaven. He approached nearer and nearer, and fixing his eyes upon me, with such a countenance of compassion and love I cannot describe, said, ‘I am

* Joel ii. 28. f Job iv. 13.

with thee.’ I exclaimed aloud, ‘It is the Sou of God! ‘He then ascended, and became like a bird in the air, but not out of sight. Then the tormentors commenced again, and the struo-D-le to o-et disens-asred from them was renewed. Once more the same blessed Being descended, and with the same benignant look repeated the words, ‘I am with thee.’ “A’hile He spake all was quiet, but as soon as He ascended as before, the battle with our invisible enemies continued. The third time He came down, when He said, ‘I will be with thee even unto the end.’ Every object instantly disappeared. He took me in His arms, and appeared to go under the waves. I was tranquil, and felt no fear, but weary, rested my head upon His bosom. How lonsr we were under the water I know not, but it appeared not a moment ere He arose with me, still in His arms, and ascended towards heaven; and then my joy, my ecstasy, was so overwhelminor, mv bosom heaved, and I awoke. The impression left upon mv mind by this ’ vision of the night,’ I have never lost. T“hat appeared but a dream has since become a reality. How has the Lord upheld me in the deep, dark waters, not suffering them to overwhelm me quite. He has kept my head above them, so that I sank not in their midst. In the dark night of my weeping He was near; His eye. His loving eye, was upon me. God’s children came to me, but my sorrow seemed too deep for their sympathy to reach: they endeavoured to comfort me, but vain was their effort. One dav, when alone, mv heart over’helmed within me, a man of God, ’ a son of consolation,’ was sent to me. He drew me out to disclose all mv feelinrs, mv doubts, and misgivings of God’s love. I opened my heart to him in perfect confidence, and the Spirit enabled him to open his mouth for God. He unfolded God’s eternal and unchangeable love to His children, and proved from every part of the Sacred Volume, that it was not because I was not His child. He had chastened me; but because I was His child. Long and faithful was his conversation, and oh, how comfortinfi:! I felt all that he said. Everv word brousrht conviction to mv mind and comfort to my heart. ‘Then,’ I exclaimed, lifting my eyes to heaven, and clasping my hands, ‘God is still my Father, my reconciled Father.’ Light broke into my benighted soul, my heart opened to receive the message the Lord had sent by His dear servant, the enemy fled from me, and I was comforted. To know I was still His, and that His love was unchanged, strengthened me to look up to Him from whence my help came. I was comforted, too, by a letter your dear father wrote to me during his illness. I believe the Lord took me from him that he might not lean upon an arm of flesh for comfort, but upon Himself alone. He did so. He fled to Jesus, and was saved. The Lord had taken him from the evil to come; and now I was to gird my mind to bear the burden alone, He supported me.”

We are henceforth to contemplate Mrs. Winslow as occupying a new and untried position in life, involving responsibilities and cares of no ordinary character. She was now a widow, with a large family of sons dependent upon her for their training and settlement in life. “She that is a widow indeed, and desolate, trusteth in God.” Such was her present condition. The surges of grief now yielded to a calm, intelligent survey of her position. She threw herself upon God. The covenant she made with him when a wife, she now and more solemnly renewed as a widow, — that the Lord should be her God. It was at this important crisis of her history that the following touching incident in her experience occurred: —

“I had sent one of my sons, a youth of ten years old, accompanied by a servant, across the river on a matter of business. The appointed time for his return arrived, but he did not appear. Hour after hour passed away, and nightfall drew on, but he came not. The last steamboat touched the pier, but he was not on board. I walked my room for hours in prayer, and in great agitation of mind. Keenly did I then feel my lonely, helpless widowhood. Again and again I sought the Lord. After passing hours in this state of mental anxiety, I sent a brother in search, and soon after, all made their appearance. He had missed his way. The Lord heard a mother’s prayer, and brought him in safety to me. After all had retired for the night, I was left alone with God. My mind and heart had been greatly exercised throughout the day. I felt deeply my helplessness and responsible situation. I thought, ‘How can I, a helpless woman, care for, and train up, these children to manhood? ‘I felt I should sink beneath the overwhelming conviction of my weakness and insufficiency. I paced my room in prayer, tried to take hold of a promise; but all was dark, the present and the future, as midnight. It was late before I retired to rest. In vain I endeavoured to compose myself; sleep had forsaken me. Again I lifted up my heart in prayer. I tried to cease from thinking, and to close my eyehds, but in vain. All night I continued in prayer, until just before the dawn of the day these words were spoken to my ear and heart, as if an audible voice had uttered them: ‘I WILL BE A Father to thy fatherless children.’ I knew this voice, and could make no mistake. So powerful was it, J. instantly replied aloud, ’ 0 Lord, he thou the Father of my fatherless, 0 my God! ‘Oh, the solemnity of that hour! I felt God was with me, and my soul was filled with joy and holy reverence. He had condescended to visit my lone room, and fill it with His presence. He had come to comfort his widowed child, and I icas comforted. My soul poured out its grateful acknowledgments. I could adore, and praise, and bless His holy name. A solemn, sacred influence pervaded the place. God was with me, of a truth. Fatigued with the anxieties of the dav, and exhausted with the mental exercises through which I had passed that night, I composed myself to rest. The Lord withdrew, and my weary eyes were closed in refreshing sleep. Years have passed since then, and the Lord has not for one moment forgotten His promise. But I take the promise to extend beyond this poor dying world. Had the Lord given each of my children a world, and they should lose their souls, what would it profit them? I believe He designs to be their Father to all eternity, and that I shall meet all, all my children in heaven. How often have I gone and pleaded this promise before Him, and have always found my faith increased. And still my faith holds out; for He is foAthfid that has promised

From the moment God sealed upon her sorrowing heart this especial and remarkable promise, causing her to rest in His own veracity as the pledsre of its fulfilment, she became animated as by a new and mighty impulse. Her natural spirits, unstrung by grief, and her mental powers, paralyzed by anxiety, now acquired fresh tone and energy. An overwhelming pressure of despondency and care seemed suddenly and entirely to be lifted from off her mind. Strengthened with might in the inner man, she cast her care on God; and girding herself anew for the arduous duties to which he now summoned her, with a calmness of judgment, a firmness of resolution, and a reliance of faith, equal to the dignity of her position, she cheerfully met and vigorously discharged all its claims. The promise thus given proved as a sheet-anchor to her soul in many a subsequent hour of storm and cloud. And when at times — for such there were — the sentence of death seemed written upon it, her faith in God never faltered; giving to that promise, as she herself tells us, its widest range of meaning, she rose above the temporal blessing it involved, and claimed, as the only limit of its fulfilment, a divine heritage, a spiritual birthright, an eternal home for her orphan ones. She knew that she had to do with a Being, all whose resources of power, wisdom and love were as boundless as His own infinity; who was not only a prayer-hearing, and a prayer-answering, but also a prayer-exceeding God; and who, in the bestowment of His blessings upon His people, never gave less, but always more than He had promised, or than they had asked. She reasoned — and it was the logical reasoning of true faith — that if God, in the lone hours of that night of weeping and of prayer, had engaged to be a Father to her fatherless children, that engagement bound Him to them as their Heavenly Father. To this broad interpretation of the pledge, she held Him with a grasp which never for an instant relaxed. And when she died, it was in the firm, unfaltering faith of that promise. Not having received its complete fulfilment, but viewing it afar off, she was persuaded of it, embraced it, and closed her eyes with an undimmed, unshaken assurance, that it would be even as God had said, and that she would meet again all the children He had given her — ax undivided family in heaven.

And yet it must not be inferred from this that her path henceforth was never beclouded by the shadows of a fluctuating faith, or that she was no more of an anxious and a doubtful mind. Far from this. Where are the evidences of grace in the absence of infirmity? And where the victories of faith in the non-resistance of imbelief? There were seasons — many indeed — when she was cast down with anxious care and painful foreboding. Alone, and with but the wreck of former affluence, she was called to meet the growing demands of a family of nine sons, fast advancing into manhood. It was only by a careful husbanding and wise expenditure of her crippled resources that she was enabled to educate them for professional life; but with God’s blessing upon her judicious, self-sacrificing efforts it was accomplished; and “her children rise up to call her blessed.” As her sons advanced in years, she parted from them, one by one, with a view to the completion of their education at home. There, beneath the eye of her elder son, who now merged the relationship of an elder brother in the higher one of a foster-father, they were trained for their future positions in life. It was on one of these occasions that she penned the following letter to one of her sons, then a youth, on his way home to pursue his professional studies, and now usefully enoraged as a clerofyman of the Church of End and: —

“My peecious George, — New York, 1818.

“I hope before this comes to hand you are with your dear brother* and sister. This is the fourth day since you left me, and my prayers haye been offered up for you morning, noon, and night; and often has my heart ascended on your behalf, when I haye been otherwise engaged. T’hen my weeping eyes followed you, I felt an inexpressible sweetness and comfort in offering up this short prayer, — ‘Now, Father, I commit this child into Thy hands. Follow him with thy blessing, shield him from every evil, carry him in safety where he is going, and let him be Thine for time and for eternity. Fulfil Thy promise, on which Thou hast caused Thine handmaid to hope, and be Thou a Father to her fatherless children.’ From that moment my heart was comforted, though I felt the separation. The night was wet and gloomy, and I followed you in imagination to your lonely berth, ill, and wishing yourself by our comfortable fireside at home. I haye thought of you almost continually, my dear boy; for you are now without a friend or relative. But God is with you, and that comforts me. Your dear brothers tried to look cheerful when they returned to me, but I could see they were much affected. While I am writing, you are at this moment on the mighty deep: but, as Mrs. Isabella Graham says, ’ it is God’s ocean,’ — my God’s.

“20th. — My dear G, when we all gather round the

evening fireside, I find myself looking, every now and then, at the door, expecting to see you enter; and once or twice, when we have been going to read the Bible, I have waited a moment or two, looking round for an absent one, who I then recollected was far, very far away from me. How often have I carried you in the arms of faith to a throne of grace, beseeching the Lord to put His hand upon you and bless you. Oh, my child, if you but knew the blessedness of the religion

* Her eldest son T., then recently marriefl and settled in England.

of Jesus, its sweetness, rich enjoyment, and reality, you would not rest a moment until you could call the Lord your own.”

To her eldest son she thus writes: —

“I felt so distressed through the whole day and night, at not hearing from you on the arrival of the packet, that to change the scene, and give a turn to my thoughts, I set out

on a visit to my sweet E, at Mrs. B ’s.* I should

tell you, however, that I had heard through Captain that

G was well, though he had not reached you. For this, I

failed not to thank my God, and to implore His aid to strengthen me, and enable me to bear up under this and every other disappointment and trial, through what His infinite wisdom should see fit I should pass while on my pilgrimage through this wilderness. I felt sensible I was aiming in my own strength to be resisrned to His will and to trust Him: and knowing how impossible it was for me to do this, went to His footstool and confessed my weakness and total inability to do anything without Him. And oh! how graciously does He at all times deal with His unworthv child, His unsTrateful, unbelieving child. B is in affliction, and I am obliged to

remind her of the faithfulness of our God, His promises. His boundless love towards His children; His power and goodness enabling Him to perform them all; and in doing so, my own spirits are revived, my own faith and confidence increased by the recital; and I am helped thereby to go on from day to day with a cheerfulness, under circumstances which I should have thought, formerly, would have made me lose my reason or break my heart. I speak not of want; for, blessed be His holy name, He has never suffered me to want any good thing that was absolutely necessary for me; for I am certain, that what I have thought I wanted, it were better I should want; for had it not been so, infinite love would have given it me.”

“December 26th. — My soul longs for the privilege of again hearing a full gospel. I feel my poverty, and my need of Christ, more and more But I do believe these exercises of soul, which I often have in consequence of this low state of spiritual enjoyment, will ultimately prove to my advantage, and for the glory of God. My choicest seat is at the foot of the cross. When I can but view His bleeding wounds, and obtain one glance by faith of His gracious countenance, it

* The boarding-school at which her daughter was placed.

is worth a thousand worlds to me. Nothing else can give me jo J ar*d comfort. I have had not a few battles with Satan, as it respects past experience, and have been put to my wits’ end; but I find it is the safest to keep close to Jesus; and as I came at first, so I come again and again; in this way the foe is defeat-ed, and my soul is melted with love, while He lifts upon me His heavenly countenance.”

If there were one feature in the religious character of Mrs. Winslow more distinct and palpable than any other, and which, as her Christianity ripened, became a yet more strongly developed, firmly rooted, and all-controlling principle of her life, it was the profound homage with which her whole soul bowed to the supreme authority of God’s revealed word. To her enlightened view, no doctrine was propounded in the Bible, the belief of which was a matter of indifference; and no precept was enjoined, the observance of which was a question of choice. As a child of God, to obey instantly and unquestioninfflv, she resarded as an imperious dutv; and as a Christian disciple, to mould her walk accordmg to the example of the Saviour, she counted her sweetest privilege. “With her, human opinion, worldly interest, self-ease, were as the fine dust in the balance weighed in the scale with her Lord’s solemn and comprehensive injunction — “Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you.” Influenced by this principle — a principle which governed the lowliest actions of her life — and in compliance with what she interpreted as a divine and positive injunction, we find her avowing her faith in Christ, and dedicating herself anew to the Lord, in the solemn rite of believers’ baptism.

The spiritual reader, who may not see eye to eye with her on this subject — and there will be many such — cannot yet fail to approve the principle which governed her, and to reverence the conscienciousness which dictated the step. Addressing her mother from New York, she writes: —

“I trust you will, by God’s blessing, be able to come to us in the spring. I had intended to have written to you with respect to my baptism, but the subject requires a clearer head and a mind less agitated than mine is at present. But, my beloved mamma, I saw it to be a plain and positive command of Christ, and I am called to obey Him, as far as He gives me light so to do. I have for years been impressed with the importance of the subject. I read in mv Bible that only those who believed, or had true faith, were the scriptural subjects of bajitism; luhosoever hdieveth and is boptized. Infants cannot believe, and consequenrly baptism, in their case, loses its sigr.iiicance. Nor could I, in all my examination, find a solitary passage or example in the New Testament, that will lead me to the conclusion for a moment, that children were baptized in the early church. But in the time of the apostles, as soon as sinners, or adults, were called through grace to believe, they were baptized and added to the church. I shall some time hence write more fully to you on the subject. I have not

heard from T since he sailed for England; but the Lord

is my help, and in every trial and trouble my soul looks to and and leans upon Him, and I am comforted.”

In the midst of her personal sorrow and domestic duties she found time for walks of practical Christian usefulness. In one of these rambles she met with the following remarkable instance of the grace of God in a poor idiot girl: “The entrance of Thy word giveth light; it giveth understanding unto the simple.” Such was the case with poor Ellen, who had been brought to a knowledge of the truth through the instrumentality of the Rev. Archibald Maclay, the then esteemed pastor of Mrs. Winslow. On every other subject but the love of Christ to her, the mind of the poor idiot was a perfect blank. But on this, the deepest and sublimest of all themes, she spake with a sinceritv and earnestness of feeling which the most eloquent language could not express. In one of her letters, Mrs. Winslow details an interesting visit to this pious imbecile: —

“I entered the little room. It was clean and tidy, with a bed in one corner farthest from the fire, by the side of which, in an old arm chair, sat an idiot girl about seventeen years of age. She was dressed neatly, and looked happy, though ill. Her mother, a respectable -looking woman, was by her side. I took an offered chair, and drawing near the girl, asked her how she was. She replied, ‘Sick.’ ‘And what have you in your lap?’ pointing to a book which lay there. She opened it, and with an expression of delight I shall not soon forget, reached it to me. It was the New Testament. ‘Do you love the Lord, my dear child?’ *0h, yes,’ she replied, though with great difficulty; ‘Jesus is good,’ ‘He is good, my poor child; what a mercy for you that He has enabled you to know it.’ *0h, yes,’ she repeated again, ‘Jesus is good. Mr. Maclay good man; Mr. Maclay tell poor Ellen of Jesus.’ I turned inquiringly to her mother, who told me her simple, affecting story. She had a year or two back been convinced that she was a sinner, and her distress of mind in consequence was so great, that it brought on the illness (paralysis) with which she is now affected. Her intellect, feeble from her birth, is now nearly gone, and she is unable to understand little else but that ‘Jesus is good, and loves poor Ellen,’ and this is her constant cry. She is always reading her New Testament, which, with a hymn-book, is her constant companion. She was very attentive to all I said of the Lord, and listened with great eagerness. I read to her a hymn she gave me, and then, looking earnestly in my face, she said, pausing between each word. In — my — Fathers- house — are — many — mansions. As she could with difficulty speak, I repeated to her the following verses. But, oh, what an expression of joy and delight did she manifest! Her whole body was convulsed, and her ecstasy seemed too much for her poor shattered frame to bear. She spread both her hands before her face, while tears of joy stood in her eyes. As soon as she could speak, ‘Jesus is good; Jesus loves poor Ellen,’ were the words which seemed most fully to express her whole heart. So great was her agitation, and so incessantly and rapidly were these words repeated, I was compelled to lay my hands gently upon her, and soothe her to silence. AVhen I left her humble abode, I thought, ‘There dwells an heir of glory, a joint heir with Christ Jesus, in a cellar kitchen, rich in faith.’ Oh, how true the precious word of God: God hath chosen the foolish things of the world, and weak things of the world and base things of the world, and things ichich are despised, and things which are not, that no flesh should glory in his presence T

She was not without her severe conflicts of faith; yet we always trace in her experience the irrepressible energy of this mighty grace under circumstances of its deepest trial. Addressing: her children from New York, she savs:

“.... I have nothing new myself to communicate to you, but I feel a desire to say to you all this evening, ‘How are you?’ ‘Is it well with you?’ ‘Is it well with your children?’ It will be a long time before I can get an answer. But my God is your God; and though a vast ocean divides us. He is present with us both, and has engaged that it shall be well; yea, that it is well with his people. What a mercy that a throne of grace is accessible to us both, and at the same time whore “vve meet in Christ, and under the influence of the same Spirit commend each other to the tender care of our dear Redeemer, who has undertaken to manag-e all our concerns. Oh that I could at all times take the comfort of this precious truth, and be careful for nothing, but with prayer and thanksgiving make all my requests known to the Lord. My faith is but small at present; sometimes I stand in doubt whether I have any at all; and there have been seasons when I have been tempted to think I never had known the grace of God in truth. For some months past I have had sharp conflicts with my corrupt nature and the old adversary; and when I have cried out in agony of soul, ‘Lord, have mercy! Lord, hear! can I be thine? can I be thy child?’ this passage of Scripture has invariably presented itself to my mind, Cast not axuay your confidence luhich hath great recomjjense of reward. I thought it strange that this passage was ever on my mind, so that I could repeat it aloud as I walked the streets. Nevertheless, I am still called to follow as under a cloud. I feel my vileness, my unprofitableness, my woful shortcomings, and am thankful if I can but only creep to the foot of the cross, and there repose my weary soul refreshed by one look at Jesus, who, 1 do trust, died for my sms. But oh, I want to be more conformable to His lovely image, to be sanctified, body, soul, and spirit, and to have every power of my mind under the constant influence of the Holy Spirit. You, too, have in some degree been in the furnace, but I trust it has been sanctified to you both. You have gone on so prosperously that it was time for the Lord to try your grace. The faith that is not tried is doubtful. Trials and crosses test the Christian’s faith and Christ’s faithfulness, and these things bring rich experience to the believer’s soul which otherwise he would never have had.

The following family incident will interest the reader, only so far as affording an illustration of Mrs. Winslow’s energy of character, and the deep religious sentiment which pervaded and sanctified all her secular engagements. There is a passing allusion to one of the most catholic Christians, able statesmen, and distinguished philanthropists of his age. With “William Wilberforcp: it was her privilege to be on terms of sacred friendship. His” Practical View of Christianity” was one of her favourite works; and in the early stages of her religious experience, contributed materially to mould and establish her opinions. To the latest period of life, she cherished, for the memory of this illustrious man, feelings of the most profound veneration. The writer, then a little boy, has a vivid recollection of accompanying her on a morning visit to him at Kensino-ton Gore, and of receiving some confectionerv, offered with the most winning kindness, from those hands which, more than all others, had laboured to wrench the shackles from the slave. The extract that follows refers to a presentation, through Mr. “Wilberforce, of claims supposed to exist upon the British Government for the confiscation of large family estates in the North American colonies, when those colonies separated from the Crown. A short time before the revolution, the Provincial Council, which, until about the year 1765, was always the aristocratic branch of the Legislature, and, of course, composed of the most distinguished individuals in the country, had, for the most part, become attached to the popular party, and hence, in opposition to the Governor.* In consequence of this, commissions were granted by mandamus to distinguish loyalists, of whom the father of Captain Winslow was one. It is supposed, however, that he never acted under this commission. The appointment was in opposition to the general sentiments of the people, which soon afterwards terminated in the revolution and ultimate separation of the colonies from the mother country. The consequence of the acceptance of this office, however, was the relinquishment and subsequent confiscation of a large family property in Boston, U. S., and for the indemnification for such a sacrifice, it was thought, just claims existed upon the Government at home. Writing to her son, she says: —

“I must now tell you I have petitioned the King with respect to your dear father’s claims. You may remember how often he intended to prefer those claims himself, on account of his father’s services and his own, but never lived to put his intentions into execution. I have, therefore, written to Mr. “Wilberforce, and also to Lord Dundas, under cover of my petition, urging them to exert themselves on my behalf. I know that I shall get nothing without the Lord’s blessing attends it; but the hearts of Kings and Princes are in His hands; to Him I have committed the thing, and hope I shall be satisfied, whatever be the result. Your grandfather Winslow was one

* Hutchinson.

of the King’s mandamus Counsellors in Boston; and durmg the Revolution he quitted it, and all his vast property, to follow the army, but died before he reached home. In consequence of this, your father lost the fortune that would have been his on coming of age. Your father entered the British service at seventeen, serving both at home and abroad. These are the outlines of my claims upon Government, and I mention them to you, as you may be questioned upon the subject. I thought it would be worth while for you to call on Mr. Wilberforce, at Kensington Gore, and ascertain if there is any likelihood of the claims being recognized. I have referred him to Judge Leonard, who knew your grandfather, and also to Colonel Backhouse, under whom your father served for many years. But all my concerns are in the best hands. However, make every prudent inquiry about it; and may He who is the widow’s God give you all the wisdom that you may need, and follow your attempt to serve your mother with His best blessing. You remember when the widow, whose son Elijah had restored to life, cried to the king for her lands, the prophet’s servant stood by and pointed her out to him. The Lord opened the king’s heart, and her request was granted, even more than she asked. That same God is my God, and still worketh all things after the council of His own will. Be not faithless hut believing y

Powerful as was the interest with which this memorial was sustained, it failed to secure a response to the prayer, in consequence of the length of time that had elapsed in preferring the claim. But higher concerns now engaged her thoughts, as will appear from the following extracts from correspondence with her familv: —

“Your grandmamma seems quite young again. How graciously the Lord has in all things dealt with his aged handmaid! She has outlived nearly all her relatives and early friends; they are passed into eternity, while she has been spared, and blessed to her old age with a knowledge of the truth, and with a stable peace and reliance upon her Saviour for all that is needful for time and for eternity. Her frame and feelings are seldom very lively, but her faith steady, and her peace unceasing. Her spiritual joy is not great, but she goes on her way relying on God, and looking forward without a fear to the moment when she will be called to pass the dreary valley of the shadow of death. While I have my changes,

HER COMMUXIOX ‘^ITH GOD. 79

sometimes rejoicing in my Saviour, and triumphing over all that opposes my way; at other times cast down, feeling my unworthiness, and afraid of deceiving myself, she is passing on her way like the sun without a cloud. But our God is wise in all His dispensations towards His people, and all my exercises are needful.

“Oct. 21st. — Oh what a mercy is a throne of o;race! I think I never knew the value of prayer so much as of late. Since I have parted with so many of my children, I feel I have so much more to do with God. I have so many more petitions to present for you all, that it seems to me a more constant intercourse is kept up between my soul and Jesus, and thereby enables me to discover such a fulness, such a sufficiency, such goodness, and boundless, matchless love, that at times I can but kneel and weep. My mind is led from earthly things to longing desires after conformity to His holy likeness. Oh, to be holy! How beautiful does holiness appear to be! To be holy is to be happy. May the Lord sanctify us! A little while and we shall be done with those things that but too often encumber us, and then, oh, what glory awaits the believing soul!

“January 17. — The cold is intense. Last niD:ht, while interceding with the Lord to have pity upon the poor and needy, and supply their wants during this trying season, I recollected a widow woman had called on me for help a week ago, but from various causes I had done nothing in her case. I felt humbled before a heart-searching God for my neglect, and this morning I set off and found out her abode, above the Vauxhall Gardens. Her little stock of fuel was out; and findins: it a worthy case, I gave her a note to the Widows’ Society, and no doubt she will be supplied with a load of wood. I then called on a young woman in a consumption. She says she has no hope for eternity. I directed her to Jesus, and then left her.”