CHAPTER II.

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BOYHOOD—EARLY SURROUNDINGS—TRADE—SPIRITUAL MANIFESTATIONS—A STORM AT SEA.

John Taylor was eleven years old when his father settled on his estate in Hale. He attended school at Beetham, about a mile from Hale, and only a few miles south of his birth place. It was in these boyhood days at home that he got "mixed up," as he puts it, "with ploughing, sowing, reaping, hay-making and other farm work; and I have indelibly impressed on my mind," he continues, "some of my first mishaps in horsemanship in the way of sundry curious evolutions between the horses' backs and terra firma."

At the age of fourteen he was bound an apprentice to a cooper, in Liverpool. In about twelve months his employer failed and young Taylor returned home. He afterwards went to learn the business of turner in Penrith, Cumberland. Penrith is situated near the middle of a beautiful, fertile valley sloping northwesterly to the Solway firth, and drained by the Eden river; the valley because of its rare scenery, is called the Vale of Eden. It is one of the most romantic districts in all England. On the east is the Pennine range of mountains, which in this locality attain their greatest altitude. On the west is the Cumbrian group, where the highest summits in England are found. The highest mountain is Scawfell, the loftiest of whose four peaks is 3,229 feet above the sea. A little to the east of this, and hence nearer Penrith, is Mount Helvellyn 3,118 feet; and to the north Skiddaw 3,058 feet.

Nestling at the feet, or in basins between these mountain peaks, are the most famous lakes in England, fifteen in number, varying in size from one mile to ten in length, and from one-third to one mile in width. Ulleswater is the lake nearest to Penrith, and while it has little of the soft beauty that has made Lake Windemere famous, its rugged surroundings and especially Mount Helvellyn at its south west extremity, give to it a grandeur that verges on sublimity.

The climate of this lake region is very damp, and on the higher mountain peaks snow lies for six and in some seasons even eight months in the year. The excessive rain-fall, however, gives great freshness and luxuriance to vegetation.

Besides the beauty and grandeur of the surrounding country, Penrith and vicinity are rich in historical associations and monuments of a past civilization. Lying near the Scotch border it was frequently invaded by that hardy race during their unhappy conflicts with England; the town was well nigh destroyed by them in the time of Edward III.; and was again sacked in the time of Richard III.

In the immediate vicinity are a number of Druidical remains, among which is the great Druidic monument Long Meg, a monolith eighteen feet high and fifteen feet in circumference; while about her, in a circle one hundred and fifty yards in diameter, are sixty-six other monuments, inferior to her in size, called her daughters. Near by is Lowther Castle with its beautiful park; Eden Hall, the seat of the ancient family of Musgrave; Arthur's Round Table, and Shap Abbey, are also within a radius of five or six miles.

It was in the midst of this splendid scenery, made doubly enchanting by historic associations and the monuments of those weird people, the Druids, that John Taylor spent the days of his youth, from his fifteenth to his twentieth year; and no doubt these surroundings had a powerful effect on his then forming character, and did much to develop the poetical impulses of his mind, for the power of poetry was not among the least of his natural gifts. Thence, too, comes the splendid imagery so frequently dashed into his sermons and writings. It was there he saw the "water nymphs playing with the clouds on mountain tops, frolicking with the snow and rain in rugged gorges, coquetting with the sun and dancing to the sheen of the moon;"[1] there, too, he saw the drifting clouds wrapping mountain peaks in solemn gloom, while the flower-flecked vale below was flooded with warm sunlight. These scenes and the impressions they formed he treasured up, and afterwards made them clothe in splendid drapery an eloquence which held thousands enchanted by the magic of its spell.

The religious nature of John Taylor began early to develope. His parents were members, nominally, of the Church of England, and he was told that that Church was the true one, and that the "Roman Catholics were a dreadful set of fellows." Indeed, it may be said that part of the Church of England's creed in those days, though unwritten, was "down with the Pope." He learned the catechism and the prayers of the church. In a fine vein of satire he says: "I repeated week after week—'We have erred and strayed from Thy ways like lost sheep. * * * We have left undone those things which we ought to have done; and we have done those things which we ought not to have done, and there is no health in us; * * * have mercy upon us, miserable sinners.'"

He was baptized into the church when an infant; a god-father and god-mother promised and vowed for him that he would renounce the devil and all his works—the pomp and vanity of this wicked world, and all the deceitful lusts of the flesh; that he should believe all the articles of the Christian faith, and keep God's holy laws and commandments, and walk in the same all the days of his life. "How far I have filled their pledges," he says, "I must leave others to judge."

In childhood and youth he was naturally vivacious, and seems to have had but little regard for the stiff formula of church creed, and was without any definite idea of correct religious views; still he had a deep reverence for God; with him it was an intuition, and he dreaded nothing so much as offending Him.

When about sixteen he heard the Methodist doctrines taught, and as he perceived more spiritual light and force in their teachings than in the cold, set services of the Church of England, he became a Methodist. He was strictly sincere in his religious faith, and very zealous to learn what he then considered to be the truth. Believing that "every good and perfect gift proceedeth from the Lord," he prayed frequently in private. Most of his leisure hours were spent in reading the Bible, works on theology and in prayer. For the latter purpose he usually resorted to secluded places in the woods and fields. The missionary spirit about this time began to develop in him. He induced a number of boys about his own age to join with him in secret prayer, but they generally soon forsook him. He relates a circumstance that must have occurred about this time, that still further gives evidence of the missionary spirit working within him. Living in the same neighborhood was an old gentleman whom he greatly respected; he was a good man, a praying man, but he had a wife who did not want to pray, and also interfered with his devotions. She was restless and turbulent, a kind of thorn in his flesh. Under these circumstances he did not get along very well, but it used to drive him to the Lord. After a while she died, and he married again; this time to a very amiable lady. His wife was so pleasant and agreeable, that the change in his circumstances was very great. Being thus comfortably situated he became remiss in his religious duties; and among other things gave way to the temptations of liquor. Observing the course he was taking, young Taylor took up a labor with him. He felt a little abashed on account of his youth, but because of long friendship, and out of respect for the old gentleman's many good qualities, he felt it his duty to call his attention to his neglect of Christian precepts. He told him how he had seen him drunk a few days previously, and how it had hurt his feelings, as his course hitherto had been exemplary. The old gentleman appreciated the good feelings, the respect and courage of his young friend, deplored his weakness and promised amendment.

Young Taylor possessed a portion of the spirit of God and was very happy. Manifestations of its presence were frequent, not only in the expansion of his mind to understand doctrines and principles, but also in dreams and visions. "Often when alone," he writes, "and sometimes in company, I heard sweet, soft, melodious music, as if performed by angelic or supernatural beings." When but a small boy he saw, in vision, an angel in the heavens, holding a trumpet to his mouth, sounding a message to the nations. The import of this vision he did not understand until later in life.

At the age of seventeen he was made a Methodist exhorter, or local preacher. His first appointment was at a small country town some seven miles from Penrith. A brother in the same church accompanied him; and when the two had walked about a mile from Penrith, young Taylor suddenly stopped, overpowered by a peculiar influence, and as he stood there in the road, he remarked to his companion, "I have a strong impression on my mind, that I have to go to America to preach the gospel!" At the time he knew nothing of America but what he had learned in his geography at school; and emigration to that country had not been thought of then by his family. So strong was the voice of the spirit to him on that occasion that it continued to impress him as long as he remained in that land; and even after he arrived in Canada, a presentiment that he could not shake off, clung to him that he had some work to do which he did not then understand.

At the age of twenty, having mastered the business of turner, young Taylor left Penrith, and in the town of Hale started business for himself, under the auspices of his father. Shortly after this, in 1830, his father and family emigrated to Upper Canada, leaving him to dispose of some unsold property and settle the affairs of the estate.

In about two years he completed the business entrusted to him and followed them. While crossing the British channel the ship he sailed in encountered severe storms, which lasted a number of days. He saw several ships wrecked in that storm, and the captain and officers of his own ship expected hourly that she would go down. But not so with our young emigrant. The voice of the Spirit was still saying within him, "You must yet go to America and preach the gospel." "So confident was I of my destiny," he remarks, "that I went on deck at midnight, and amidst the raging elements felt as calm as though I was sitting in a parlor at home. I believed I should reach America and perform my work."

Footnotes

1. From Taylor's Reply to Colfax.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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