CHAPTER III. THOMAS AND MARGARET TURNER-THE EUCHARIST. § 1. The Turners. WHEN Thomas Turner began to fear for his life, the apothecary shaking his head doubtfully, and his disorder, mixed apparently of asthma and consumption, gaining ground daily, he sent for me. I had lately missed him in my parish walks, but I was ignorant of his sickness. He was one of that numerous class so often described, who seem to live without a God in the world; at church he was never seen, nor did he listen to me effectually when I invited him again and again to come there. This surprised me the more, because his behaviour towards me, and indeed towards every body, was remarkably civil and proper in all respects; and whenever I wanted any thing done in the way of his business, I always employed him. He kept carts and horses, and was pretty constantly occupied in carrying gravel, and turf, and peat-earth, and whatever else was necessary for our gardens, as well as in removing furniture and all sorts of goods backwards and forwards, to and from the neighbouring town. Being paid for these services in ready money, he generally had it at command; and, as I was sorry to find upon enquiry, he spent daily a large proportion of it at the alehouse. In short, he had the bad reputation of being a drunken fellow; but even in his cups he never forgot his natural civility; every body called him a good-natured, harmless man, an enemy to none but himself; not very wise in the abstract, and totally unable to resist the powerful temptation of having money in his pocket. Such was Thomas Turner; but it is time to introduce his wife Margaret to the notice of the reader, especially as she is destined to hold the most prominent part in this dialogue. She had much more sense and understanding than her husband, and was in truth naturally very shrewd and clever. She was honest, too, in her transactions, at least so I believed when I became first acquainted with her; but she was fond of a dram, to which those transactions gave her too strong an inclination. She was up often in the middle of the night, and away to the fish-market, without any regard to weather; and then in her cart she retailed her purchases all around the neighbourhood; and if any thing remained she carried it about near home upon her head. With equal industry and early rising, she sometimes frequented the vegetable market, and with equal results. These exertions and constant exposure, be the barometer or thermometer what they might, together with the not immoderate use of gin, had as yet produced no apparently bad effect upon her health; she was forty years of age, and fair and fat withal. She was well spoken besides; but not naturally and constitutionally as her husband was; it suited her to be so, and she was worldly wise, and knew very well what it suited her to be. But woe betide those who provoked her, for nature had given her a great volubility of tongue, and the markets had taught her to arm it with the bitterest language and the most virulent abuse. Such was Margaret Turner; and, like her husband, she was totally negligent of public worship. But, in this state of imminent danger in which he now lay, some religious thoughts obtruded themselves upon both of them; their minds misgave them a little, and they doubted whether they had been pursuing a safe system, so I was called in to quiet them, if I could. The poor man seemed sadly reduced, and in the last stage of his earthly existence. He was propped almost upright in bed by various contrivances, but still he could scarcely breathe, and was consequently incapable, or very nearly so, of any conversation with me at all. Under these circumstances, seating myself on a chair by the bed-side, I could only speak to him generally in a continued discourse, without requiring specific answers, and indeed without putting the greater part of what I said into the form of questions; but first I read to him the exhortation in our service, and having paused for a few moments, according to my usual practice, when I had finished the passage about the future reckoning, and the necessity of self-examination to prepare for it, which drew tears from his eyes; I then enlarged upon all the points of his misconduct with which I was acquainted, and upon all the aggravations of it, and my wishes seemed to be fulfilled. His countenance, his gestures, and the few words which he was able to utter, betokened the consciousness of sin, sorrow, and shame for the commission of it, and the desire of making his peace with God. Upon this I opened to him the Christian scheme of reconciliation through him who died for sinners; he was not entirely ignorant of the extent of it before, but now for the first time he appeared to lay hold of it, as his great sheet-anchor, and firmly to believe, and put his whole trust, in the Saviour himself. Thus far therefore I had advanced, as I supposed, very prosperously; and the next step which I took, to all appearance, succeeded equally well. The prayers in our visitation service were sufficiently adapted to his case, and I read two or three of them, which he accompanied with his tears, and he never omitted to bow at the name of the blessed Jesus. I thought it proper, therefore, now to mention the sacrament, for which he seemed fit in one great particular at least, and of which the delay might be dangerous but he declined it at once, and as decisively as could well be done, both in tone and manner, by a person who could scarcely speak or breathe. So I turned to his wife, and asked her if she knew the reason of this conduct, which appeared to me so strange and unaccountable. "O yes, Sir," she answered, "I know the reason very well; it is not for such people as we are to take the sacrament; we are not fit for it; it is only for those who are out of the way of temptation, and who have no trouble to get their living." This speech of Mrs. Turner's included a great many things, and I paused for a moment to consider what might be the best method of taking up the subject. At length I enquired, whether she thought that it was quite optional with all of us to receive the sacrament, or not; so that we might neglect it, if we pleased to do so, without making God angry with us, or forfeiting his favour. From her reply to this question I collected, that she did not go quite to the extent of considering it a mere optional thing with all people, so that it might be entirely and universally laid aside; but at all events she seemed to think, that the great mass might safely neglect it, whilst the few, who had nothing to do but to read their Bibles, and go to church, might perhaps be bound to attend to it. "Now then, tell me," I said, "what is your opinion about the eighth commandment? Do you suppose, that some men are bound by that commandment to refrain from stealing, and others not; or, that it binds us all to refrain ?" "It binds us all, certainly, Sir," she answered. "Then you think," I said, "that the command to take the sacrament is of a different kind from the command to be honest ?" Here she hesitated a little, and at length asked me, if there were any such command to be found in the Scriptures? "Undoubtedly," I said. "When Jesus Christ presented the bread and wine to his disciples, that they might eat and drink, he bid them do this in remembrance of him.” "Yes, Sir," she replied, "that is very true; and I see plainly enough, that his disciples were bound, as long as they lived, to keep up the memory of him in this manner; but I do not see that all people are commanded to do it.” Why," I said, "the reason of the thing extends to us all alike. Upon giving them the bread, he told them that it was his body which was broken for them; and upon giving them the cup, he said, drink ye all of it, for this is my blood of the New Testament, which is shed for you and for many, for the remission of sins. Now, here you are informed that his blood was shed for many others besides the disciples; and what do you think of his body? Do you think that it was broken on the cross for the disciples alone?" "No, indeed," she answered, "I am not so ignorant." Very well then," I said, you will probably allow, upon second thoughts, that at least all those who are to profit by his death, and obtain 66 66 66 |