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<h3>CHAPTER XV.</h3> <blockquote>We talked with open heart, and tongue Affectionate and true, A pair of friends, though I was young, And Matthew seventy-two. *     *      *     *     * And, ere we came to Leonard’s rock, He sang those witty rhymes About the crazy Old Church Clock, And the bewildered chimes. Wordsworth. </blockquote> “I gradually established an acquaintance with this old Clock.  It had already proved itself a faithful friend—indeed the only one that I had yet found in Manchester; for my mother’s distant relation was too much involved in the all-absorbing pursuit of making money, to have any room in his thoughts for the wishes and feelings of a poor country cousin like myself.  The Clock, however, had grown to be so intimate an acquaintance, that I one day took advantage of a leisure hour to pay it a nearer visit; and was very attentively looking up into its face from the foot of the tower, in the space between it and the houses—which space was then exceedingly narrow, (the houses are now happily taken down,) when my shoulders were suddenly assailed by a very smart blow with a stick, from some person from behind!  I turned sharply round, as might be expected, and saw a little active old man, dressed in a suit of rusty black, with a hat somewhat of a clerical shape, and a pair of sharp grey eyes twinkling under very long and very shaggy eye-brows, in the very act of raising his cane for the purpose of repeating the salute.  I immediately twisted the offensive weapon out of his grasp, and seeing the reverend character of the assailant, exclaimed, ‘Nemo me impune’—flourishing, at the same time, the cane over his head, as if about to return the blow.  Nothing daunted with my threat, the little man stood his ground bravely; and said, with a look of mingled fun and fury, ‘Who beat that bit of Latin into your foolish head?’ “‘One,’ said I, ‘whose hand was quite as heavy as yours, though he did not lay on half so hard as you do!’ “‘All the worse—all the worse.  Had he struck harder then, you would have needed it less now!  But why do you stop up the way to church, and stand gazing up to that tower, as if you were planning to rob the belfry?’ “‘I was thinking,’ said I, for I began to be more amused than angry with the old man, ‘I was thinking, when your cane interrupted my meditations, why it was that men placed clocks in the towers of churches!’ “‘That is easily answered, man; to teach you that time is a sacred thing.’ “‘That is indeed an answer,’ I replied; ‘and one worthy of my old friend Mr. Walker of Seathwaite!’ “‘Mr. Walker!’ exclaimed the old gentleman, in great surprise, ‘what knowest thou of Mr. Walker? a very good man he is, and a very good scholar—not of the University, though—but a good scholar, and an old friend of mine; what knowest thou of him, man?’ “‘Know him!  Why he is my old pastor and master—the best friend I have in all the world!  Oh, sir!  If you know him, you must be a good man too!’ “‘Dont be too sure of that!’ said the old gentleman, somewhat pettishly; ‘there are two opinions on that subject, I promise you.  Which of them I may entertain, is no concern of yours!’ “‘Well, sir, but I am sure if you are a friend of Mr. Walker’s, you will do me one service for his sake—the greatest you ever did to a poor lad in your life—you will tell me where I may go to church on Sundays.’ “‘His cane, which I had restored to him, dropped to the ground, and he held up his hands in mute astonishment.  ‘The lad’s lost his wits,’ he said, as if to himself—‘clean gyte, as his old friend Robert Walker would say!  There he is, standing before a church door wide open to receive him, and high enough for even his long legs to stride under, and he coolly asks me where he may go to church on Sundays!  Why, man, there you may go to church, not only on Sundays, but every day in the week—and the oftener the better.’ “It was odd that this had never struck me before; but I had fancied, I suppose from its size and beauty, that this was a church intended, like those I had already tried, only for the accommodation of the rich; and I said so to him whom I was addressing. “The old gentleman smiled at my simplicity, but there was more expression of kindness in his countenance than I had hitherto observed.  ‘The rich,’—said he, with a tone of contempt, ‘why, man, that is the Parish Church, free to all alike, rich and poor, good and bad.  The poor are by far the greater number, and, between ourselves, rather the better behaved and more attentive class, of the two.  The rich take liberties with me sometimes, which the poor dare not—if they did, I would break every bone in their skin!  But,’ said he in a lower tone, ‘I dont think any of them wish me much ill, after all.’ “Then, taking me by the hand, he said, ‘And so, my poor lad, you feared to come into this church because you thought it was the church only of the rich man!  Come along with me, and I will soon provide you with a sitting.’ “He dragged me with a rapid step through the church-door, and up the middle aisle, till he came to a place which he doubtless knew to be at that time unoccupied; and setting me down with great force in one corner of a bench, he said, ‘There! sit there!  That is your seat as long as you occupy it punctually.  If any one shall disturb you, say that old Rivers, the Reverend Joseph Rivers, placed you there; and I should like to see the man that dares disturb you after that!’ and he flourished his cane with an emphasis which seemed to show that p. 98the consequences of so rash an act would indeed be serious! “Such, sir, was my introduction to the Parish Church, and such is the favour—the inestimable blessing—which I owe to the Old Church Clock!  How often have I wished that the same blessing could be extended to the multitudes of young men that pour annually from the country into this great metropolis of manufactures and commerce, even if it were accompanied with the sharp discipline of old Mr. Rivers’ cane, which I experienced!  Sir, thousands are lost—lost for ever—from the want which I felt, and from which the Old Clock delivered me—want of church-room!  It gives them first the plea to spend the Sunday in idleness; and a Sunday so spent is but a preface to one of vice and dissipation.  Would that there were a dozen Old Churches in this vast hive of human beings!  Well, sir, that seat I have occupied from that day to the present hour—full five-and-forty years!  They have been years of trial, and sometimes of trouble to me; but I have always found my best consolation there.  During my days of toil and labour I was never absent from the Sunday services; and now that a moderate competency and the advance of years give me grounds for retirement from busy life, the daily services find me a constant and delighted attendant.  I find the daily temple worship the best possible preparation for that service which I trust may soon be my occupation in a higher sphere; the best soother of the passions; the surest relief in sorrow.  Within those walls I have escaped all those anxieties which spring from religious doubts and differences, and have said the same prayers, and listened to the same doctrines during the lapse of half a century.  The daily service flows on, in my ears, like my native Duddon—always the same, yet ever fresh and new.  I have seen sects rise and fall, and various forms of dissent flourish and decay; but they have no more moved my mind than the fleeting lights and shadows, sunbeams and storms, which pass successively over that venerable fabric, can disturb its foundations, or even shake one pinnacle from its towers.  In those free sittings, so well thronged by pious worshippers, what changes have I lived to behold!  I have seen the grey head of many a faithful soldier of Christ laid low, while its place in the ranks has instantly been filled up by one as zealous and almost as grey as that which has been removed.  Nay, the shepherds of the flock have been smitten as well as the sheep.  I followed to the grave my old friend Mr. Joseph Rivers, to whose blunt kindness, and friendship for my master Robert Walker, I was so deeply indebted; and much was I gratified to see the flood of tears that was shed by the poor over the old man’s grave!  It was a proof to me that men know how to value honesty and integrity, even though it be clouded, as it sometimes is, by a hasty manner and a rough outside.  And I have followed to the grave one to whom I looked up with a feeling of deeper reverence and gratitude—the pious Christian—the courteous gentleman—the late venerable Head of our Church in this place.  He was to me not only a teacher, but, I may almost venture to say, a companion and friend.  How often have I hoped and prayed that he might be permitted to out-strip me in length of days as far as he did in his Christian walk!  But it was not so ordained!  Truly may I say of him, in the words of Scripture, ‘That other disciple did out-run Peter,—and I came first to the sepulchre!’” The silent tears rolled down the old man’s cheek as he paused for a moment to meditate on the tomb of his pastor. “My tale,” he soon added, “is now at an end.  It is probably, as I said, but of little interest to any one but myself, and you who have so kindly listened to it.  Yet I shall not have told it to you in vain, if it lead you to recollect that the poorest man you meet has his little history, could he be induced to tell it; and his deep interest in the Church, could he be led to think so.  At all events,” he concluded, with a smile, “you will not, I am sure, now blame me much, should you meet the Old Man once more on the Victoria-bridge, on a Saturday night, and find him setting his watch by—(even should it be a few minutes too slow)—the Old Church Clock.” <div class="gapspace"> </div> The End. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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