The Life of the Rev. Richard Knill of St. Petersburg

If the reader, in the course of a summer excursion, have sailed along the fine southern shore of the Bristol Channel, and, passing the rocks of Lynton and Ilfracombe, have turned into the Bay of Bideford to meet the tide of the “two notable rivers” which, in the words of Risdon, the antiquary, “there, hand in hand, with mutual affection, slip into the sea,” he must have noticed two plains of considerable extent, stretching from the sea-line to the foot of the wooded hills. The one on the right hand, being guarded by the singular oceanbuilt breakwater, known as the “Pebble-Ridge,” presents a noble sheet of pasturage for the flocks of the neighbouring farms; while the one on the left hand, though not so verdant, covers the forest of a former time, in which, according to the firm testimony of tradition, a hardy preacher of the fourth century 2 (13)

proclaimed the gospel. The determined zeal and fruitful toils of this primitive evangelist have imprinted his name on the parish church of St. Braunock’s, as well as on the village or township of Braunton, which lies embosomed in orchards in a picturesque adjacent valley.

In the modern community of this place, the father of the missionary whose life is delineated in the folio u’ing pages held a somewhat prominent position. He inherited from his ancestors, who had been known for many generations in the parish, a capacity for nearly all kinds of business. His original trade was that of a carpenter, but, by the help of a small patrimony, he gradually relinquished that occupation for pursuits more agreeable to his discursive genius. While he would occasionally plan and work at the construction of a house, he would be found equally at home valuing the timber of an estate, selling a farming stock, making the draught of a lease, or drawing up the will and testament of a dying neighbour. These useful services, united with a tall person, a benevolent countenance, and a goodly wig, procured for him the familiar but respectful title of” The Counsellor.’’ He married Mary-Tucker, a woman of superior education and excellent judgment, the daughter of a substantial neighbouring farmer, distinguished for kindness to the poor and general hospitality.

Richard, named after his father, the youngest of their four children, was born at Braunton, on the 14th April, 1787. The only incident of his childhood which has come down to us was one which nearly cost him his life. On his way to school, the boy had to cross a stream spanned by a bridge of two flat stones. On attempting one day to ascertain how far he could push a stick under this structure, he overbalanced himself and fell in. The splash reached the ear of a poor widow, carding wool by her cottage door. On looking up, she spied a child’s hat on the surface of the stream, and darting to the spot, drew the little owner, by his flaxen locks, from under the bridge. Molly Robins was never forgotten by Mr. Knill.

She could not read,” he would say characteristically, “but she saved my life: feeble powers, if well employed, will do wonders.” Braunton owed little to its reliQ:ious instruc-EARLY DAYS.

tors. Its inhabitants generally lived in moral darkness, though, in addition to the parish church, it had had a community of Nonconformists from the earliest period possible after the Act of Uniformity in 1662. The parents of Richard Knill resembled their neighbours, and Tsere not prepared, at the time when he was committed to their charge, to direct him in the path of life.

“But,” says he, in the reminiscences, which shall now be largely quoted, “God remembered them in their low estate. A young man, named Joseph Evans, the son of a farmer, who had been for some years in Barnstaple, came home and opened a shop. He gave notice to a few of his friends that he should have a religious service at his house on Sunday evenings. It was much ridiculed by the people generally, but my beloved mother, who had known Mr. Evans from a child, attended his meeting. There the Holy Ghost applied the word with such power to her soul that she could not stay away. The Lord Jesus Christ became very precious. She rejoiced with joy unspeakable. My father was highly displeased at this; and I never recollect his speaking unkindly to my mother, except about this change in her religion. But she sought comfort in prayer; and would often take me with her into her chamber, and say, ‘Kneel down with me, my dear, and I will pray with you; your father and your brothers will not join me.’ I wondered why she wept so, and where she got such remarkable prayers for my father and the family; but I understand it now, and I have good reason to believe that her prayers for them have been answered, and that she has met them all in heaven, except myself, and I trust, through rich, distinguishing grace, she will meet me there also. Blessed be God for a praying mother.”

“In my thirteenth year,” he continues,” I was apprenticed to business, and in my seventeenth year finished my apprenticeship, and went abroad into the wide world to make my fortune. I proceeded to Ilfracombe, and Barnstaple, and Bristol, for improvement, and so far I succeeded; but I cannot look back to these early travels without a pang. ‘Evil communications corrupt good manners.’ In

the midst of wicked old men, and wicked young men, I forgot the prayers of my pious mother, and became fond of singing foolish songs, and breaking the Sabbath, thus stifling the voice of conscience, and fighting against God; and all this before I was twenty. My fondness for music was a great snare to me. The devil often took advantage of it to lead me into company. At last I began to fancy that if I enlisted into the militia I should soon get into the band, and then it would be music and songs all the year round. Accordingly, I enlisted. This nearly broke my mother’s heart. ‘Now,’ said she, ’ body and soul are lost; oh! what can be done?’ Mr. Evans’ the dear friend who led my mother to Jesus, called on my parents to sympathise with them, and offered to try and procure my discharge. Their hearts were full of joy at his offer. Mr. Evans immediately waited on Colonel Bevis, an intimate friend of Earl Fortescue, the Lord-Lieutenant of the country. He told the colonel the story, described the feelings of my parents, and offered any money that might be needful. * I will do it,’ said the colonel; ’ but you must

get a substitute, and keep Knill out of the way until the matter is settled.’ It was a mighty struggle,^ but it succeeded; and it is affecting for me to know, that the young man who became my substitute soon volunteered into ’ the regulars,’ and was killed in the heat of battle; perhaps, as my mother said about me, ’ body and soul were lost.^

“During the proceedings with the colonel, I was shut up. Mr. Evans gave me a room, and I came down night and morning at family prayer. This was a new and strange scene to me. I had never been present at a family prayer in my life. The first night that I was in this good man’s house, about nine o’clock lie rang the bell, and his shopmen and servants all came in to the parlour and sat down. I looked with surprise, and wondered what was coming next. When all were seated, he opened

Keep reading