William Wilberforce, by Alice

 On February 24th, 1793, a letter was written by a tired eighty-eight year old man, addressed to William Wilberforce.

 “Dear Sir,” it read. “Unless God has raised you up... I see not how you can go through with your glorious enterprise in opposing that execrable villainy... You will be worn out by the opposition of men and devils; but if God be for you, who can be against you?  Are all of them together stronger than God?  O, be not weary in well-doing.  Go on, in the name of God and in the power of His might, till even American slavery, the vilest that ever saw the sun, shall banish away before it.”

It was the last letter that tired old man ever wrote.  Just a week later, John Wesley was dead.

***

William Wilberforce was born sickly and almost blind.  His father, a merchant, died when he was just 9 years old; his mother, poor and unable to care for her young son, consigned him to the care of his Aunt and Uncle in Wimbledon.  There he received an education and adopted his relatives’ strong Evangelical views.  He regularly attended church, where he was often inspired by the preaching of John Newton.

At the age of 17, Wilberforce found his way to Cambridge University where he met and became close friends with the future Prime Minister, William Pitt.  Together they considered political careers and frequently watched House of Commons debates from the gallery.  While at Cambridge, Wilberforce engaged himself in little other than the playing of cards, gambling and intemperate drinking.  He had, however, a bright and cheery disposition and was admired by all his colleagues and those who encountered him.
In 1780, Wilberforce was elected to Parliament at the young age of 21.  In 1784 he became the independent Member of Parliament for Yorkshire, his home town.

After being converted in 1785, he made a radical change in his lifestyle and habits.  He became a conservative Christian, dedicated to prayer and spent much time in the Word.
Wilberforce met the Abolitionist Thomas Clarkson and a group of anti-slave-trade activists not long after his conversion.  Thomas Clarkson had an enormous influence on William, convincing him to take on the cause of abolition.  As a result, Wilberforce became one of the leading English Abolitionists and headed the Parliamentary campaign against the British slave trade.

William Wilberforce devoted his life to the cause of abolition and the work God called him to do.  As well as campaigning against the slave trade, he advocated legislations to improve the working conditions for chimney sweeps and textile workers, and engaged in prison reform.  He recognized the importance of education in alleviating poverty, and provided financial support for the establishment of Sunday Schools for the poor.  Yearly he gave away thousands of pounds; he paid off others’ debts and gave portions of his wealth to clergymen to distribute in their parishes.  He believed that those with wealth had a duty to give a significant portion of their income to the needy.

In 1797 Wilberforce met Barbara Spooner, a young anti-slavery supporter who was 18 years his junior.  They married after just two weeks of courtship and had six children.

William battled fiercely for many years to end the trade of slaves.
Finally, in February 1807, the bill to abolish the trading of slaves in the British Empire was passed.  This, however, did not release the millions of Africans already enslaved.  It merely ended the transporting of ‘cargo’.

Wilberforce fought for the next 27 years to free slaves in the British Empire.  He retired from Parliament in 1825 due to his failing health, only to return a few years later to lead yet another campaign against the slave trade.

After many years of hard work and perseverance, the bill was finally passed in 1833 to free slaves in the British Empire.

William Wilberforce died just 3 days later and was buried near his friend William Pitt in Westminster Abbey.

“When people speak of great men, they thing of men like Napoleon - men of violence. Rarely do they think of peaceful men.  But contrast the reception they will receive when they return home from their battles. Napoleon will arrive in pomp and in power, a man who’s achieved the very summit of earthly ambition.  William Wilberforce, however, will return to his family, lay his head on his pillow and remember: the slave trade is no more.”

-Charles Fox, from the film ‘Amazing Grace’

“You may choose to look the other way but you can never again say that you did now know.”  - William Wilberforce

Portrait of William Wilberforce by Karl Anton Hickel, c.1794

Dragon by the Nile, by Big Sister: Part 2

Halima woke next morning with a feeling that something was wrong, and it wasn’t the fact that Kosey was sleeping on her neck. It didn’t take her long to remember what it was.  The dragon.  What had Mensah said?  As big as a pyramid, with eyes like pools of fire and teeth like obelisks.  She shuddered, wishing that it had been killed then and there.

The dragon plagued Halima’s mind all day, and she dreamt about it that night.  The tale of the “Nile Monster” was on everyone’s lips. It even reached the ears of  Pharaoh, who, it was said, told his men to be on the alert for it.  But  as weeks passed and the dragon was not seen, people began to wonder if the infamous reed-cutter had merely made up the tale.  Eventually, talk turned to other things.  The dragon was all but forgotten.  Even Mensah, who had talked of nothing else for weeks, lost hope that the dragon would ever be found.

*

Halima wriggled her toes, revelling in the feel of the cool Nile mud on her hot and dusty feet. She brushed a fly away from her eyes, then bent down and hoisted a large clay jar of water onto her shoulder.  She turned to go, then froze in terror.  The jar fell to the ground with a wet thud and broke into two neat pieces.  The water trickled away, but Halima didn’t notice.  She was staring at a long-necked, four-legged beast with a pair of large yellow eyes. Eyes like pools of fire.

It was the dragon.

For a few awful seconds nothing happened.  Then the dragon, instead of rushing forward and devouring Halima, began to munch calmly on some reeds.  Halima let out a gasp of relief. The dragon was not going to eat her!  And as she looked more upon the creature, a smile played about her mouth, a smile which turned into a laugh. The pyramid-sized monster everyone had been talking about was closer to the size of an ox, and it was eating reeds with blunt, herbivorous teeth.

Halima took a tentative step towards the long-necked beast, wondering if it would let her touch it.  Imagine telling Mensah that she had touched a dragon! The dragon didn’t seem in the least concerned, so she slowly moved towards it until it was in touching distance.  Halima’s heart was in her mouth.  Slowly, carefully, she reached out her arm and touched the dragon’s cold, scaly hide.  It looked at her curiously.

“Hello,” whispered Halima.   The dragon reached out and touched her forehead with its nose.   Then suddenly it turned, and made a strange sound. And to Halima’s great surprize, a reply, hardly audible, came floating from the other side of the Nile.   There wasn’t just one dragon-- there was two!

Halima’s dragon didn’t hesitate before it plunged into the water and began swimming to the other side, stirring up a cloud of mud and soaking her with spray.  She watched it grow smaller and smaller, till finally it reached the other side to join its companion.

Halima knew somehow that she would never see the dragon again.  She wondered if her family would believe her tale.  Her younger brothers would, that was for sure.  And even if no one did believe her, thought Halima, she could go about her life with the knowledge that she was the only person in Egypt who had touched a dragon.

NOTE: The description of the dragon in this tale is based upon that of the Europasaurus holgeri,  a ox-sized sauropod.

Dragon by the Nile, by Big Sister: Part One

Mandisa!  Stop pulling Kosey’s tail!”  cried Halima.  Her baby sister just giggled, and grabbed a handful of the cat’s yellowish fur.  Kosey put his ears back flat against his head, then wriggled free and sprang out the door, where Halima’s mother had just a appeared. She looked at Halima’s hot, frustrated face.  “I’ll watch Mandisa now,  and you can go get some bread,” she said, handing Halima some coins.  “You may as well take Dakarai and Amil.”  Dakarai and Amil were the youngest of Halima’s four brothers. They had to stay at home, while the older two, Nakhti and Mensah, were old enough to work in the fields with their father.

Halima was soon trotting down the dusty road towards the marketplace, the warm damp hands of her brothers held tightly in hers.  By the time they got home it was dusk, and Halima’s brothers, along with her father, had returned from the fields. Mensah, who at ten years of age was two years younger than Halima, was bursting with news.  

“Have you heard about the dragon?”  he asked, his eyes shining with excitement.  Halima shook her head.

“Well, I’ll tell you then.  A man named Gudu -or was it Habu?- was cutting reeds when a huge dragon rose out of the depths of the Nile! They say it was the size of the great pyramid, had eyes like great pools of fire and gigantic teeth sharper than arrows.”  Mensah paused for effect.

 “What happened?”  Halima’s eyes were wide.  This was not like Mensah’s usual stories of robberies or new babies.

“Just as it was about to eat the man all up, he  threw his scythe in its mouth and ran away as fast as he could to warn everyone.  But when they went to search for it.... it had disappeared into thin air.  So the dragon is still alive-- and somewhere in Egypt!’’

Dragon by the Nile, by Big Sister: Prologue

The air shimmered beneath the hot Egyptian sun.  It was noon, the hottest time of the day, and few people moved about the marketplace of Menes.  The cloth-seller, a little man with a wide mouth, wiped his hand across his damp forehead.  He had just  settled down comfortably for a lunch break when a man, wild-eyed and covered in mud, came hurtling into the square and flung himself into the cloth-seller’s stall.

 The cloth-seller  gave a shout of dismay and dropped his lunch.  His lovely cloth was all covered in mud!  The cloth-seller, pale with rage, began to sputter dire threats. “Out! Out or- or I’ll feed you to the crocodiles!” People began to hurry over to see what all the fuss was about.

“Alright, alright, what’s going on here?”  The rather large figure of Sekani the baker shoved his way into the stall.

“This man has just muddied my cloth!” wailed the cloth-seller.

“What happened, eh?” Sekani asked the man.

“I saw... I saw... Ra save us!” was the man’s only reply.  Sekani turned to crowd of people.  “Anyone got some beer?” Beer was soon supplied,  which  revived the man enough to be able to sit up and stop shaking- almost.

“Now,” said Sekani, “what’s your name? And what caused you to be so frightened as to rush about like a madman-” Sekani waved his arm over the muddied cloth- “destroying things?”

The man gulped.  “M-my name is Manu.  And I was frightened because I saw a dragon!”

Sekani laughed.  “A dragon? Impossible.  No one has seen one of those for hundreds of years!”  He looked at Manu curiously.  “However, you obviously saw something, so do go on.”

Manu complied. “I was cutting reeds on the bank of the Nile when I heard a strange sound behind me, turned to look- and lo! Rising from the Nile’s water I saw a huge creature with enormous yellow eyes and skin like that of a crocodile.  It opened its mouth, and I saw rows and rows of huge, white teeth--”

“It must have been a dragon! What else could it be?” gasped the cloth-seller.

Sekani frowned.  “I have a Jewish servant who is always telling stories,” he said slowly.  “About so-called dragons.  Previously I ignored them as ridiculous, but if what you say is true...” he paused.

The cloth-seller’s eyes were starting from his head.  “Go on, go on!”

“He said they were big enough to hold an entire man in their mouth, and that they had a tail like a- what was it? Some sort of tree...not olive or palm... ah yes, I remember! a tail like a cedar tree!”

"A Tale Short, Yet Clever," by Lauren

Once there was a mouse

and he lived 

in

a 

house.

Got chased by a cat

hid under

the mat

and was trodden on, 

by a large and hairy man. 

The man said

"By george! There's something

under 

the mat!"

And he looked--

and there was the mouse

squished flat.

Said his wife:

"Disgusting! I won't allow it!"

and she threw

them both

out of the house.

--The End--

Letter from a Criminal

 The fifth day of April, 1888

 From: Jack Montville

Cell 66, Fleet prison

London

To: Miss Lacey Montville
450 Shade Tree Lane
Glasgow, Scotland
6783

My Dearest sister Lacey:

I cannot begin to tell you of the pain and remorse I feel.  You and mother must be so ashamed.  Because of me, people will whisper when you walk by, and stare as though you were the criminals - as though it were your fault!  Oh, the injustice of it!

The thing I cannot understand is this:  if what I did hadn’t turned out so badly, and I wasn’t sent to this awful place, then people would perhaps shake their heads a little, but they would find it easy to forgive - and to forget.

Yet, because the man happened to die later, I will be forever detested, and looked down upon as though I was something very unpleasant from the dustbin.  God can forgive, but people, it seems, cannot.  And even if someone was to forgive me, they will always remember.  It will always be a dark stain upon my record – both literally and in the minds of my fellow men.

I will not even tell you the things he said about father, it would only make you upset.  The things he said were terrible, and they were lies, all of them.  If I had a better hold on myself I could have calmly replied and left, but I have never been able to do that.

You asked me to tell you what it was like here, and I will not refuse you.  The nights are freezing cold, and my pitiful excuse for a blanket does not provide sufficient warmth.  And the food, if it could be called that, seems to have no more goodness than sawdust.  It certainly does not taste any better.

We are let out for “exercise” twice a day; and it is good to see other faces, but we cannot speak. 

I am lonely, dear sister. The jailer is about as talkative as a stone, and my only company is a large, fat mouse I call Albert, who comes each day for a crust, and a robin who sings outside my window every morning.

How is mother?  It makes me ill just thinking about how dreadful it must be for her.  Oh why, why must my terrible temper always get the better of me? I pushed that man with all my might.  I did not wish to hurt him – I didn’t even expect that he would fall.  But he did, and now there is no going back. 

I have some news for you.  I’ve been keeping it till now because I did not know how to tell you. I have decided that when I am released, I will not be coming home.  I have decided to go to Australia.  People there will not know me, and I can make a fresh start.  I know it will be hard for you, but I believe it is the best thing to do.  I think you should tell mother straight away, before she starts wanting to see me again.

I will miss you both. In fact, I miss you already.  Perhaps- perhaps, one day we shall meet again. I hope so.

With all my love,

Jack

Note:  I wrote this early in the year for schoolwork, and then proceeded to forget all about it.  Recently I found it amongst my papers, and thought I'd post it. :)
-B

Rose Buds in the Bush - God Will Provide, by Lauren: Part 3

Darcie and Charlotte laid their father to rest exactly one week after they arrived. The scenery around the town which at first seemed friendly, now was cold, lonely and empty.

The sister's walked back home silent, each absorbed in her own thoughts, when Darcie interrupted the quietness.

"Charlotte, what will we do? We have very little money and no provisions, you know we can't take over Papa's job, and we have no property to farm."

"God will provide," Charlotte replied more confidently then she felt.

The next day was the Sabbath so they couldn't work. Darcie cooked the last of the provisions, while Charlotte, trying to concentrate on the Holy Word, fretted. They had no peace of mind that night.

The next morning a handsome stranger appeared on the doorstep. He was in his early twenties, with the rough, weathered appreance of a hard worker with kind hazel eyes and dark curly hair. He introduced himself as Darrell Adams.

Darcie welcomed him in and listened to the reason of his visit. "Probably to give his condolences," she thought.

"Ma'am, I am sorry about your loss and I give my condolences to you and your sister," he started as he got quickly to the point, "As a God-fearing man, I believe it is the duty of a congration to support their pastor, and the duty of the men to take care of his daughters. I have come to offer my help and service."

"Thank you," was all Charlotte could manage as Darcie stood speechless.

"Charlotte was right," she mused, "God has provided."  

Charlotte went to bed that night with a thankful heart, Darrell had given them enough food to last weeks, and she was no longer afraid of winter.

Darcie, however, could only think of the young man's kindness and the tender look in the eye he gave her.

Rose Buds in The Bush - The Price of Peace, by Lauren: Part 2

"I declare, this sun will spoil my skin and produce freckles on my nose," remarked Darcie.

"Well, at least we'll hardly have to worry about frost-bite in winter," replied Charlotte.

"Still we have to make the best of it since father had to be the preacher of the district, and the worst possible thing would be for us to separate."

"Yes, we need father and he needs us especially since mother,... mother...,"

"Died," whispered Darcie.

"She would have wanted us to stay together," replied Charlotte.

After working on their little homestead, Mr Rose announced that he would take a look at the church building and see what repairs were needed. Darcie was to stay at the homestead to clean and do what-ever was necessary to turn the run-down building into a liveable home. Charlotte wanted to help her father with the church's building, so she walked along the road, hand-in-hand with the pastor and father she loved.

After deciding what needed to be done, and tidying up the place, an urgent messenger arrived.

"Sir," he said holding his hat, "we have no sheriff in this town, and two men have held up the banker, and that banker, sir, is as stubborn as a mule and as stupid as an goose, he won't give the men that they want."

"What can I do about it?"

"Can you kinda smooth things over?"

Mr Rose pondered, bowed his head, and nodded.

"Yes I'll come in a minute, Charlotte you must go back home to Darcie, this is an order, you mustn't be involved."

Charlotte obeyed and started off on the lonely walk home. An uncomfortable prickly feeling soon got the better of her, and before she knew it, her legs were running back towards the town.

"Imagine what Darcie would think of me running" she thought.

Charlotte had little time to think much more about the matter, for at that moment was a gun shot; a horrible cry; and nothing more.

Unable to think of anything more then her father's safety, Charlotte ran inside the bank.

Mr Rose was slumped against the wall, dead.

Rose Buds in the Bush - Coolanna's Grave, by Lauren: Part 1

On a hot summer's afternoon, a stranger stepped out of the Cob & Co stagecoach and into the tiny town of Coolanna in the Australian outback. After circling the area he was dropped off at, just to check his Grandmother was not there, he took a walk around the town.

For some strange reason or another, Craig felt an urge to walk through the church's cemetery. Out of the many memorial places, one stood out from the rest, and written on the stone were the words...

'Rose Buds in the Bush'

Darcie and Charlotte Rose

1804-1895   1805-1895

Died during service

R.I.P

"I thought you wouldn't have wanted to wait for me, and go wandering" Said the gruff voice of Mrs A. Jonson, Craig's grandmother.  "Though I never would have guessed you'd wander here."

"Sorry Grandmother,' Craig replied, "but who were they?" Guestering towards the gravestone. 

"The Rose sisters?" The old lady said with a hint of emotion in her voice.

Craig nodded. 

"Well then, it's a long drive to my place, so I'll tell you on the way. 

'It was a summer much like this one in 1820. Two English Sisters and their father arrived in Coolanner.

Darcie was a handsome, tall young lady of sixteen with a slim figure, dark eyes and long, brown hair. Her younger sister Charlotte, was shorter and rounder, but had pretty blue eyes, blond curly hair and fair skin. Personality wise they were also different. Charlotte loved laughing heartily, while Darcie was very ladylike and graceful. However no one denied their special sisterly bond. They loved each other and their father very much...'  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This story was co-authored by my friend Ebony, please visit her blog, she is a creative genius with many talents, one of which is photography. 

Ehem!

Dear readers of Just So Stories,

I just thought I'd tell you that the "Farewell" post was just a practical joke between Lauren and I, and it isn't serious!  xD  Just in case you were wondering what on earth was going on,  hehe! :)

Love from Big Sister <3