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Wigglesworth got so thorough a knowledge of these two places and of judgment day, and doubts crept into my mind as to the accuracy of his description. When I thought of Bishop Hancock seated in one of those armchairs, I knew that his soul, at least, would be full of pity and sorrow for the poor sufferers below, and I felt that the saints ought to be a good deal like him.
The wearing of long hair by men is expressly forbidden in 1 Corinthians xi. 14, 15; and there is a special word for women, also, in 1 Tim. ii. 9. "Nay," said Mr. Wigglesworth, "that was by a special appointment only, and proveth the general rule and practice."
If the wine gave health and wisdom it would hardly be possible to spend too much upon it. I visit the homes of my forefathers at Hamerton, Wigglesworth, and Hellifield Peel. Attainder and execution of Sir Stephen Hamerton. Return of Hellifield Peel to the family. Sir Richard. The Hamertons distinguished only for marrying heiresses. Another visit to the Peel, when I see my father's cousin.
In strange contrast with this Christian woman's memorial, was that of an infidel, whose gravestone, by his own direction, bore an avowal of his belief that the spirt within him would be extinguished like a flame, and that the nothingness whence he sprang would receive him again. Mr. Wigglesworth consulted me as to the propriety of enabling a dead man's dust to utter this dreadful creed.
Wigglesworth, "when God's people were ashamed of such vanities, both in the home country and in these parts; but since the Bishops and the Papists have had their way, and such as feared God are put down from authority, to give place to scorners and wantons, there hath been a sad change."
The Pastor of the Malden Church was the venerable Michael Wigglesworth, a gentleman of the highest repute; who had declined the Presidency of Harvard College; whose son and grandson became Professors in that institution; and whose descendants still sustain the honor of their name and lineage.
"On the Sawbath! Man, d'ye think he's a heathen, then?" Mrs. McNish regarded the man before her with severity. "An 'eathen? Not me! I should consider it an 'eathenish practice to go dirty of a Sunday," said Mr. Wigglesworth triumphantly. "Hoots, man, wha's talkin' about gaein' dirty? Can ye no mak due preparation on the Saturday? What is yere Saturday for?" This was a new view to Mr.
Michael Wigglesworth, called the "Day of Doom," which tells all about the day of judgment, how the sinners are doomed to burn eternally in brimstone; and the saints are represented as seated comfortably in their armchairs in heaven, looking down into the sulphurous pit. I used to wonder how Mr.
"Aye, a leddy!" said Mack. "An' mind what ye say aboot her tae. Mind y're manners, man." "My manners, hey? And Mr. Wigglesworth, throwing himself into the approved pugilistic attitude, began dancing about the young Scot. "Hoot, mon, awa' hame wi' ye. Tak' yon young tyke wi' ye an' gie him a bit wash, he's needin' it," said Mack, smiling pleasantly at the excited and belligerent Mr. Wigglesworth.
Bring them in," he roared in a voice whose ascending tone indicated his growing amazement and wrath. "Come in you," growled Wickes in the voice he generally used for his collie dog, which bore a thoroughly unenviable reputation, "come on in, can't ye?" There was some shuffling for place in the group at the door, but finally Mr. Wigglesworth found himself pushed to the front of a committee of five.
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