A Woman's Life-Work — Labors and Experiences of Laura S. Haviland. Laura S. Haviland
often affected me to tears; and I often read until the midnight hour, and could not rest until I had read it twice through. My sympathies became too deeply enlisted for the poor negroes who were thus enslaved for time to efface.
The third or fourth I had ever seen of that race was an old man called Uncle Jeff. He seemed to serve any one who called upon him for chores, in our little village of Lockport, that grew up as by magic upon the Erie Canal. Uncle Jeff was frequently employed by merchants to cry off their stale articles on the street. At one time the old man, whose head was almost as white as wool, was crying, "Gentlemen and ladies' black silk stockin's of all colors for sale," holding them up to view as he passed along the street, followed by a group of boys crying out, "Nigger, nigger," and throwing grass and clay at him. At length he turned to these half-grown boys, looking very sad, as he said, "Boys, I am just as God made me, an' so is a toad." At this the boys slunk away; and I felt very indignant in seeing the men who were standing near only laugh, instead of sharply reproving those ill-behaved children.
Another colored man, named Ben, came to our town with a family who opened an inn. He was employed mostly in the kitchen, and while Ben was asleep on the kitchen floor, some rude boys put a quantity of powder in the back of his pants, and placing a slow match to it left the room, but watched the process of their diabolical sport through a window, and soon saw their victim blown up, it was said, nearly to the ceiling. His hips and body were so badly burned that he was never able to sit or stoop after this wicked act. He always had to walk with a cane, and whenever too weary to stand, was compelled to lie down, as his right hip and lower limb were stiffened. Yet little notice was taken of this reckless act, but to feed and poorly clothe this life-long cripple, as he went from house to house, because he was of that crushed and neglected race.
RELIGIOUS IMPRESSIONS AND EXPERIENCE.
In the Autumn of my thirteenth year, with our parents' permission, brother Harvey and I attended a little prayer-meeting at our Uncle Ira Smith's house, near by. Here was singing, experiences given, with prayer and exhortations, in which young people, as well as those more advanced in years, took part. All this was new to me, having never attended any other meeting than of Friends, usually called Quakers. My father being a minister and mother an elder in that denomination, they were very conscientious in training their children in all the usages, as well as principles, of that sect. At this Methodist prayer-meeting a young girl, but little older than myself, related her experience, and prayed so earnestly for her young associates, that it took a deep hold on my mind; and on my way home, on that beautiful evening, I resolved to seek the Lord until I could know for myself that my sins were forgiven. Oh, how I wished I was a Christian, as was Hannah Bosworth. She was so young, and yet she told us how earnestly she sought the Lord, and found Jesus so precious in the forgiveness of her sins. It was said in that meeting that God was no respecter of persons, and that I had read in the Bible; and then Jesus had said, "Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not;" "and now, this very night, I will begin to seek the Lord, and I never will give up trying, if it takes as long as I live, until I receive an evidence that I am the Lord's child. I want to realize that peace and joy those men and women expressed in that meeting." As all had retired, I placed a candle in my brother's hand, and hurried him to bed, that I might know positively that no human ear could listen to my first attempt to address my Heavenly Father.
I knelt for the first time in my life, in the rear of our corn crib, but no words could I find for prayer, and a feeling of fear came over me, and I arose to my feet. I looked all around me, but no one was in sight; naught but trees and shrubs of the garden below, and the ethereal blue, bedecked with the beautiful moon and sparkling stars, above. Is it possible that He who created this beautiful world can notice a little girl like me? And the thought occurred that I had better wait until I was older. But the remarks to which I had just listened came vividly before me, and I renewed my resolve to pray to Him who had said, "Suffer little children to come unto me," and again knelt for prayer; but that feeling of fear increased, until it seemed as if some one was about to place a hand upon my shoulder, and I again found myself on my feet. But as no one was in sight, I queried whether this was not the enemy of my soul, to keep me from prayer, and fell upon my knees a third time, determined to remain in the position of prayer until my first petition to my Heavenly Father was presented. And the prayer of the publican was repeated over and over again, "God be merciful to me a sinner." These words above all others seemed just for me. I was a sinner, and mercy was what I wanted. I returned to the house with a still more fixed resolve to continue asking, with a firmer purpose never to give over until the evidence of pardoning love was mine. As I retired, I knelt by my bedside, and repeated the same prayer, with a few additional words, imploring the aid of the Holy Spirit to teach me the way of life, and penitential tears began to flow. Before I slept my pillow was wet with tears, and was turned for a dry place. As I was reading the Bible through by course, it became more of a companion than ever before.
The next prayer-meeting was attended, and as they knelt during the season of prayer I felt an impression to kneel with them. But the cross was very great and I did not yield. I thought if I did so it would be reported to my parents, and they would probably forbid my coming to these little meetings, which I so highly prized. But this was unprofitable reasoning, increasing the burden instead of bringing the relief sought. I wept on my way home, and in my evening supplication renewed my promise to be more faithful, let others do or say what they would, if the like impression was ever again experienced. With permission I attended the next prayer-meeting at my uncle's, and, as if to test my faithfulness, two young women of my intimate associates came in, and sat one on each side of me. At the first season of prayer, as I did not have that impression, I felt quite at ease, and thankful to my Father in heaven for excusing me. But the next united supplication, I felt that I must unite with them in kneeling, and while one tried to pull me up by the arm, with saying "I'd be a little dunce if I was in thy place," the other sister pinched the other arm, "Now, Laura Smith, be a little Methodist, will thee? I'd be ashamed if I was thee; every body will make fun of thee." But I kept my position and made no reply, but secretly prayed for strength in my great weakness. But my fears were fully realized. It was at once reported that Laura Smith would be a Methodist if allowed by her parents. And for a long time no permission was given to attend those little prayer-meetings, my parents assigning this reason: "This Methodist excitement is unprofitable, especially for children. They have an overheated zeal, that is not according to knowledge, and we do not think it best for thee to attend; we want our children at a suitable age to be actuated by settled principle, not mere excitement." This reasoning by my dear father strongly tempted me to give up my resolutions altogether. Until I was eighteen I felt no liberty whatever in unburdening my troubled heart to my dear parents. They were unacquainted with the longings of my poor soul. Like the lone sparrow upon the house-top, I mourned many weeks, sought the solitary place for reading my Bible, and prayer; often watered my pillow with tears, and longed for the day, and during the day longed for the night, in which I might pour out my sorrows to my Heavenly Father out of sight of human eye. I was conscious that my sadness was troubling my dear parents. Oh! how I prayed for light to dispel this darkness and doubt—sometimes ready to conclude that, as it was my duty to obey my parents, the Lord would excuse me in waiting until I was of age. Yet in reading the many precious promises of the Lord Jesus, "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest;" "Seek, and ye shall find," I found fresh courage. But why do I not find this rest for this weary heart? Why do I not find the way to seek for the hidden treasure I so much longed for? These queries were continually revolving in my mind, without a satisfactory solution. Sometimes I almost concluded that God was too good to send the beings he created for his own glory to perdition to all eternity, and all would ultimately be saved; at other times, I could not reconcile universal salvation with the parable of Lazarus and the rich man, and was ready to conclude that salvation was for the elected few, and there were those who could not be saved, and I was among the lost. In one of these seasons, of almost despair, I ventured to attend a Methodist meeting held in a private house, in company with my uncle. Being at his house, I did not go home for permission. The minister was a plainly dressed man; the opening hymn was new to me, but every line seemed especially for me:
"God moves in a mysterious way,
His wonders to perform"
It was read