SHELTER IN A STORM. "And as about Jerusalem, The holy hills do it compass, "So God indeed, in time of need, His faithful people doth defend, Standing them by assuredly, From this time forth world without end." Old Version. It was on an evening late in the autumn of 1831, that the curate of a populous parish was requested to visit the most distant part of his charge, for the purpose of administering private baptism to a dying child. Those fields and byroads would not have been a very desirable walk in that twilight on any evening; but on this one in particular there was no fancied cause of fear. The clergy of that neighbourhood had been pointed out as marks for insult and ruin. More than one of their houses were yet in flames, and their lives threatened. It was one of the three Ꭰ nights of the tremendous riots at Bristol. It seemed a fearful thing for a young student, unfitted as well by his education and habits, as by his holy office, for strife and contention, to venture out on such a night into the thickening scene of tumult:-besides, he whose services were then needed was the only son of a large family,-a beloved, and cherished, and much honoured one; -one whose life and comfort was inexpressibly dear to those bound to him by peculiarly close ties. Oh! why are such golden ties ever lightly broken? It was a call of duty, and we would not prevent his obeying it,-yet we could not let him go alone. The sound of a loving voice, though only a sister's, may cheer him; and the clasp of a friendly arm, though but a weak one, strengthen. Our might, our protection could only come from above. That we well knew: yet I have seen the frail sweet peas cling together, and twist their slender tendrils about each other in stormy weather; and fancied, weak as they were, they gained some strength by the embrace. We felt uncertain whether or not the call might be only a pretence to lead us into danger, or at least terror,-such really was the alarming state of the time, and to such insult the clergy man's family had that morning been exposed. But we remembered Cowper's beautiful reflection on one of Horace's odes: "Sweet moralist, afloat on life's rough sea, And trusting in his God, surmounts them all." We left our home, rendered strangely dear to us by the uncertainty how long it might be ours, and set out on our unaccustomed walk. The damp fogs of evening hung on the dark branches, and dripped heavily on our path as we entered the lane. It was chilly, and every moment becoming darker. The first day of a fearful winter. But the absorbing feeling at that time was the dread of our fellow-creatures,-of those whom for years we had vainly hoped to attach to usthat weighed on our spirits much more heavily than the gloom of that most gloomy evening. A humiliating feeling like dread of meeting an enemy in every fellow-man you saw,-a shrinking mistrust inexpressibly painful that seemed to press down the heart, so that it could not without effort lift itself up to any noble or generous effort. We crossed the open grounds in haste and fear, and descended into the by-road. There, in front and around a public house of the lowest description, were gathered a mob of quarrelsome women and disorderly men, discussing their new scheme of misrule, and rejoicing in their strange triumph. We were passing them with a sense of shame at the degraded situation in which we felt ourselves, and endeavouring to turn a deaf ear to their insolent remarks,-which were not needed to tell us, for we felt how very pale we looked-when a small company of horse soldiers came riding down the road, and passed us in their way to the city. In their front were two rioters whom they had apprehended, and whom we heard them peremptorily order to march on indeed every show of power was needed, for the mob seemed much disposed to attempt a rescue; and greeted the military with such a volley of abusive language, as made me shudder to think that my native tongue could contain such a fearful vocabulary. We felt that we trembled, and we hurried on. At every step we met new companies, three or four together, whose appearance and language gave evident proof of the way in which they had spent the preceding night. Some also there were who looked after us with an observation of pity, as if they doubted whether we quite deserved all the terror that we had borne, or all the deadlier things that they freely prophesied we should yet have to bear. Again as we came into the lanes that lay more open toward the city, the grey clouds of evening were reddened by the light of the fires. They had been but smouldering all day, and once more we saw them spread and brighten; and again, especially as we drew nearer toward the city, we heard the low and confused sound of the multitudes of voices, like the angry hum of an excited swarm of bees. In the public road, which we had now to cross, was nothing but terror and dismay. Crowds of wretched looking people hastening toward the city, as to another night of license and riot. The more decent sort-of whom indeed few ventured to appear even at their windows-showed on their pale and sad countenances marks of the fear and watching which they had now borne for many hours. The turnpike gates were thrown open, lest the violence of the mob, impatient of |