Litchfield enquirer. [volume] (Litchfield, Conn.) 1829-current, 1849-12-06
Bakers Cenrtship and Marriage.

Having long written under a solemn i'm
/ preston of duty, allowing neither pain nor
weakness, nor the claims of friendship, 10
interfere with his. SleeplesS intentions, he
stipulated with his wife before marriage,
that she could not expect him to relax, even
| for her society and the social Equipments Of
domestic affection, the severity of his Ia
bors, This stipulation was fulfilled. He
continued to write without relaxation after
marriage as before. He was impatient of
interruptions. "We are afraid, sir, We
break IN upon your time,' said some of his
callers 10 him upon one occasion. e To be
sure you do" was his answer. His wri-
tings, like his sermons, were the earnest
exposlulations of a dying man with dying
men, and he tells US of no other amusement
or relaxation than the singing of pSalms.-
Harmony and melody" said he, " are the
pleasure and elevation of my soul. 1t was
not The least comfort that had in the con-
verse of my late dear wife, that our first act
ia the morning and last in bed al night was
a psalm of praise"
| The following is an account Of his mar
| riage -
Among Bakers old pensioners of Kid
derminStcr, Was a widowed lady of gentle
birth, named Charlton, W HI, with her dangh>
ter Margaret, occupied house in the neigh.
DO, hood. The daughter was brilliant
girl, of q" strangely vivid wit, and in ear
ly YOUTH! he tells us, "pride and romance
and company suitable thereunlo, did take
her up'' But ere long Baxter, who acted
in the double capacity of spiritual and tenn
porai physician, was sent for to visit her,
on an occasion ofSickness. He minislerel
10 her bodily and mental snferings. and
thus secured he graft ude and Confidence
On her recovery under the influence of his
warnings and a1monitions, the gay young
girl became thoughtful and serious, ADAM
doned her light books and ccmpanionsj and
devoted herself 10 the duties OF Christian
profession. Baxter was her counsellor and
confidant. She disclosed 10 him all her
doubts trials and ,emptatonsy and he in
return, wrote her long letters of sympathy,
consolation and encouragement. He began
to feeel such an unwon:ed interest in the
moral aud spiritual growth of his young
disciple, that in his laily wa ks among he
Pensioners, he found himself inevitably
drawn towards her mo'her's dwelling.
In her presence, the habituai ansterity
of his manner, was softened his cold, close
heart warmed and expanded. He began TO
repay her confidence with his own, disclo>
sing to her all his plans Of benevolence,
soliciting her service, and waiting with
Difference for her Judgment upon them
A change came over his habits of thought
and his literary tastes the harsh, rude dis.
putant. the tough dry logicfan. found him
self addressing to his young friend epiSlles
in verse on doclrinal points aud matters of
caSuislry, Westminster Catechism in
rhythm and measured harmonies.
A miracle alone could have made Baxter
a poet; the cold, clear light of reason paled
the effectual fires" of his Imagination all
things presented themselves TO his vision
" with hard outlines eolorlsss, and with no
surrounding atmosphere" That he did,
nevertheless, write verses 80 ereditable, as
to justify ludicious modern critic in their
citation and approval, can perhaps be &C.
counted for only as one of the phenomena
of that subtle and transforming influence
to which even his stern nature was uncon-
sco1sly yielding. Baxter was in love
Never did the blind god try his archery
on more unpromising subject. B,xleF
was nearly so years of age, and looked still
older. HIS life had been one long fast and
known schOolboy'S love for cousin or play.
mate. lie had resolutely closed up his heart
against emotions which he regarded as the
alluremenls of time and sense. Fle had
made a merit of ce.ibaey, and written and
published against the ENHANCEMENT of godly
ministers in matrimonial engagement and
family cares. Ii is questionable whether
| he now understood his own case, or at,ribu>
ted to its right cause the peculiar interest
which he felt in Margaret Charlton. Left
! to himself, II is more than probable that he
might never have discovered the nue nature
of that inleresl,or conjectured that anything
whatever of earthly passion or sublunary
emotion had mingled with his spiritual
Plantonism. Commissioned and set apart
TO preach repentance TO dying men--penni-
less and harmless, worn with bodily pain
and mental toil-and treading as he heiiev-
ed on the very margin Of his grave, what
had he 10 do with love? What power had
he IL inspire that teuder sentiment, the an
propriate offspring only ofyoulh, and health
and beauty?
Could any Beatrice see ... .
| A lover in such anchorile 20
But, in the meantime, reciprocal feel,
inS.was gaining Strength in the hear, OF
Margaret. TO her grateful app,ec ton of
the condescension of a great and good ma n
grave, learned. and renowned,--,o her
youth and weakness, and 10 her enthusiasts
tic admiration Of his intellectual powers,
devoted TO the highest and hottest objects.
succeeded naturally enough the tenderly
suggestive pity of her woman's heart as she
thought of his lonely home, his unshaYed
sorrows. his lack of those sympalhies and
kindnesSes which make tolerable the hard
journey of life. Did she not owe to him,
under God, the salvation of body and soul I
J Was he not her lruest and most faithful
friend Had she not seen the clouds Of
his hahitual sadness broken by CLEANS Of
sunny warmth and cheerfulness. as they
had cohversed together3 Could she dc
better than 10 devote herself 10 the pleasing
task of making his life happier, Of comfnrt.