Transcribed from the early 1800’s J. Evans and Son edition by David
Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org

                          [Picture: Book cover]





                                   THE
                               TRUE HISTORY
                                  OF THE
                            _Kentish Lawyer_;


                          WITH AN ACCOUNT OF THE
                          EXTRAORDINARY MARRIAGE
                               OF HIS SON.

                                * * * * *

                  [Picture: Illustration of a marriage]

                                * * * * *

                                 LONDON:
             Printed and sold by J. Evans and Son, Long-lane;
            sold also by F. Collins, 60, Paternoster-Row; and
               J. Nisbet, 15, Castle-street, Oxford-street.

                             PRICE ONE PENNY.




                          _THE KENTISH LAWYER_.


OLD Mr. Studley was a lawyer in Kent, of about £400 a year.  He was a
great enemy to godliness.  His son, in his youth, seemed to follow in the
same steps, till the Lord, who had separated him from the womb, called
him by his grace as follows:—The young man was at London, and being drunk
in some company, and going in the night towards his lodging, fell into a
cellar, and in the fall was seized with horror, and thought he fell into
hell at that time.  It pleased God he took little harm by the fall, but
lay there some hours in a drunken drowse; his body being heated with what
he had drank, and his soul awakened, he thought he was actually in hell.
After he was come to himself, and got home into Kent, he became serious,
betook himself to read, and study the Scriptures, and of much prayer,
which at length his father perceived, and fearing he would turn puritan,
was troubled and dealt roughly with him, making him dress his horses,
which he humbly and willingly submitted to.  And when, at that time, his
father perceived he sat up late at night, reading his Bible, he denied
him candle-light; but being allowed a fire in his chamber, he used to lie
along and read by the fire-light; and said, that while he was dressing
his father’s horses in his frock, and when reading by the fire, he had
those comforts from the Lord, and joys that he had scarce experienced
since.  His father seeing these means ineffectual, resolved to send him
into France, that by the manners of that country, his melancholy temper
might be cured.  He went, and being at his own disposal, by the Lord’s
guiding him, he placed himself in the house of a godly protestant
minister; and between them, after they were acquainted, there grew great
endearment.  Great progress he made in speaking the language; and his
father expecting an account from the gentleman with whom he lived, of his
proficiency in speaking French, he sent it to him; but soon after he had
orders to return home; and (the father directing it, or he intreating it)
the landlord, with whom he had lived, came into England with him, and
both were made very welcome at his father’s house, he not knowing that he
was a minister.  At last the father caught the French gentleman and his
son at prayers together, and was angry; paid him what was due to him, and
sent him away.  Then his father having an interest with a person of
quality, a great lady at Whitehall, and his son by his education being
accomplished for such an employ, prevailed with that lady to take his son
for her gentleman or attendant.  He thought by a court life to drive away
his melancholy, as he called his son’s seriousness in religion.  The lady
had many servants, some given to swearing and rudeness, whom this young
gentleman would reprove, with that prudence and gravity, that sin fell
down before him; and if any of the servants had been ill-employed, and
heard him coming, they would Say—Let us cease, or begone, Mr. Studley is
coming.  After a year’s time, his father waited upon the lady, to enquire
of his son’s conduct.—She answered, that she was glad she had seen his
son’s face: he had wrought a mighty reformation in her family; she that
had formerly been troubled with unruly servants, by his prudent carriage
it was now as quiet in her house as if she lived in a private family in
the country.  At this the father stormed.  What, will he make puritans in
Whitehall?  He told the lady that was no place for his son; he would take
him with him; which to her grief he did.  When he had him at home in
Kent, as his last refuge, he thought of marrying him; and to that end
found out a match which he thought fit for his ends, to stifle that work
of religion in his son.  He bade him one night put on his clothes early
in the morning, and ordered his servant to make ready their horses and
himself, to wait upon them.  When they were riding on the way, he bade
the man ride before, and spake to his son to this purpose:—Son, you have
been the cause of great grief to me; and having used many means to
reclaim you from the way you are in to no purpose, I have one more remedy
to apply, in which if you comply with me I shall settle my estate upon
you, else you shall never enjoy a groat of it.  I am riding to such a
gentleman’s house, to whose daughter I intend to marry you.  The son said
little, knowing that family to be profane, but went with his father, who
before had made way there.  They were entertained nobly; he had a sight
of the young lady, a great beauty, and the young man fell much in love
with her.  When they had taken their leave, on his way his father asked
him, What he thought of her?  He answered, No man living but what must be
taken with such an one, he feared she would not like him.  The father was
glad it had taken, and bid him take no care for that.  The wooing was not
long; at three weeks end they both came to London to buy things for the
wedding.  The father had charged, that in the time of the wooing in that
gentleman’s house, there should be no swearing or open wickedness, lest
his son should be discouraged.  Wedding-clothes were bought, the day
came, and the young people were married.  At the wedding-dinner, at her
father’s house, the mask was taken off; they fell to drinking healths,
and swearing over their cups; and, amongst others, the bride swore an
oath.  At which the bridegroom as a man amazed, rose from the table,
stepped forth, and went to the stable, took an horse, none observing, as
all were busy within; he mounted, and rode away, not knowing what to do.
He bewailed himself as he rode along, as undone, and deservedly; for that
he had been so taken in love, and the business so hurried on by design;
he said he had at that time neglected prayer, and slackened his communion
with God, when, as in that grand affair of his life, he should have been
doubly and trebly serious, and so might thank himself that he was utterly
undone.  He sometimes thought of riding quite away.  At last, being among
the woods, he led his horse into a solitary place, tied him to a tree in
his distress, and betook himself to his prayers and tears, in which he
spent the afternoon.  The providence of God had altered his argument of
prayer, which was now for the conversion of his new-married wife, or he
was undone.  This he intreated, and did not rise from prayer without good
hope of being heard.  At the bride’s house was hurry enough: horse and
man after they missed the bridegroom, sent every way, but no news of him.
He was wrestling as Jacob once at Peniel.

In the evening he returned, and enquiring where his bride was, went up to
her, and found her in her chamber pensive enough.  She asked him if he
had done well to expose her to scorn and derision all the day?  He
intreated her to sit down upon a couch there by him, and he would give
her an account of his doing what he had then done, and tell her the story
of his whole life, and what the Lord through grace had done for him.  He
went over the story above-mentioned, not without great affection and
tears, the flood gates of which had been opened in the wood, and often in
his discourse would say, _through grace_ God did so and so for me.  When
he had told her his story, she asked him what he meant by those words,
“through grace?”  He replied to this effect, that he meant the unmerited
favor of God, through Christ Jesus; she then enquired if he thought there
were no grace in God for her, who was so wretched a stranger to God?
Yes, my dear, said he, there is grace for thee, and that I have been
praying for this day in the wood; and God hath heard my prayer, and seen
my tears, and let us now go together to him about it.  Then did they
kneel down by the couch side, and he prayed; and such weeping and
supplication was there on both sides, that when they were called down to
supper, they had hardly eyes to see with, so swelled were they with
weeping.  At supper the bride’s father (according to his custom,) swore.
The bride immediately said—Father, I beseech you, swear not.  At which
the bridegroom’s father, in a great rage, rose from table: What, says he,
is the devil in him! hath he made his wife a puritan already? and swore
bitterly that he would rather set fire (with his own hands) to the four
corners of his fair-built house, than ever he should enjoy it.  And
accordingly he acted, made his will, in which he left his son ten pounds,
and gave the estate to some others, of whom Dr. Reeves was one, and not
long after died.  Dr. Reeves sent for the gentleman, paid him his ten
pounds, told him he had been a rebellious son, and disobliged his father,
and might thank himself.  He received the ten pounds, and meekly
departed.

His wife (the match was so huddled up) had no portion promised, at least
that he knew of, who relied on his father, so that she was also deserted
by her friends; and having £200 in her own hands, that had been given her
by a grandmother, with that they took and stocked a farm in Sussex, where
she who had been highly bred, has been often seen in a red waistcoat,
milking her cows, and became the great comforter and encourager of her
husband.  God, saith she, hath had mercy on me, and any pains taking is
now pleasant to me.  There they lived some years with much comfort, and
had the blessings of marriage, divers children.  After some few years, he
was met in Kent, on the road, by one of the tenants of the estate, and
saluted by the name of landlord.  Alas, said he, I am none of your
landlord.  Yes, you are, said he, I know more than you do of the
settlement.  Your father, though a cunning lawyer, with all his wit,
could not alienate the estate from you, whom he had made a joint
purchaser.  Myself and some other tenants know it, and have refused to
pay any money to Dr. Reeves.  I have some money ready for you in my
hands, which I will pay to your acquitance, and that will serve you to
wage law with them.  He was amazed at this wonderful Providence, received
the money, sued for his estate, and recovered it.  “He that loseth his
life (saith Christ) for my sake and the gospel’s shall find it.”  His
godly wife, enjoying a loving husband, several fine children, and a
handsome estate, in the midst of these outward blessings, fell into a way
of questioning the truth of her grace, because of her outward prosperity.
This was her sin without doubt, for which a friend rebuked her; but it
was a severe rebuke that the Lord gave her for her unthankfulness; a fine
boy, about three years old, fell into a kettle of scalding wort, and was
taken out by his mother, and died.  This she looked on as the Lord’s
discipline for her unthankfulness, and was instructed.

                                * * * * *

London:—Printed and sold by J. Evans and Son, Long-lane, sold also by F.
Collins, 60, Paternoster-row; and by J. Nisbet, 16, Castle Street, Oxford
Street.