The letter and offer of Lady Morville poured a flood of sunshine into
Jane's heart, and helped to hasten her restoration to perfect health.
Most thankfully did she accept the situation offered her by her former
mistress, which restored her to an honourable position, and enabled her
to earn her own living in a way suited to her abilities, experience, and
strength. She wrote at once her earnest thanks, and her grateful
acceptance of the proposed post, and it was arranged that she should
leave her home for Monksworthy in the beginning of August. But Thomas
Bradly had set his heart on having a special temperance demonstration
before her departure; so it was put before Mr Maltby, and a grand
temperance tea-party and open-air meeting at Cricketty Hall was
announced for the second Saturday in July.
It soon got whispered about that something more than usual was to be
expected in the speeches after the tea; and as every one knew that
"Tommy Tracks" could get up a capital meeting, there was a good deal of
attention drawn to the subject among the operatives and people generally
in the town and neighbourhood. Bills of a large size had been duly
posted, and small handbills left at every house; and a prayer-meeting
had been held on the Wednesday evening previous, to seek a special
blessing on the coming gathering, so that its promoters looked hopefully
for a fine day, and were not disappointed.
Tea was to begin at 5 p.m., and the meeting as near half-past six as
could be accomplished. Crossbourne human nature, like the human nature
in most English manufacturing districts, had a great leaning to tea-
parties and _fetes_, the latter name being sometimes preferred by the
younger men as being more imposing. On the present occasion there was
an abundance of interested and willing helpers, so that early in the
Saturday afternoon the road to Cricketty Hall was all alive with comers
and goers, more or less busy with band and tongue; while carts of many
shapes and sizes were conveying the eatables and drinkables up to the
old ruin. The tea-tickets had sold well, and there was evidently much
expectation in the minds of the public generally.
About half-past three o'clock the Temperance and Band of Hope members
came flocking into the market place, Bradly being there to keep order,
with Foster and Barnes as his helpers. The last of these had charge of
a small basket, which he now and then glanced at with a grin of peculiar
satisfaction. Then the band mustered in full force--a genuine
temperance band, which never mingled its strains of harmony with streams
of alcohol. And oh, what a noble drum it boasted of!--could musical
ambition mount higher than to be permitted the privilege of belabouring
thundering sounds out of its parchment ends? Such clearly was the view
of two of the youngest members of the Band of Hope, who were gazing with
fond and awed admiration at the big drum itself and its highly favoured
bearer.
Shortly before four o'clock the vicar and his sister made their
appearance; and then, in a little while, the procession, with
appropriate banners flying, large and small, was on its way, Mr and
Miss Maltby marching at the head, and Thomas Bradly bringing up the
rear. In front of the procession was the band, which struck up a lively
air as all stepped forward, the drum being particularly emphatic at
every turning. Just at the outskirts of the town an open carriage
joined the long line: there were in it Mrs Maltby and her daughter, who
had returned from the seaside a few days before, and Jane Bradly, who
was not yet equal to much exertion.
On, on they marched, bright and happy, conscious that their cause was a
good one, and that their enjoyment would not be marred by any excesses.
The day was charming; there had been just enough rain during the
preceding night to lay the dust and freshen up the vegetation, while the
ardent rays of the sun were tempered from time to time by transient
screens of semi-transparent clouds. As the procession neared Cricketty
Hall, a cooling breeze from the west sprang up, just enough to ruffle
out the banners, as they were carried proudly aloft, without distressing
their bearers. Then the band, which had been silent for a while, put on
the full power of lungs and muscle in one prolonged outburst of
boisterous harmony; and just at five minutes to five the whole body of
the walkers, old and young, was drawn up in due order in front of the
ruined gateway.
It was just the right spot for such a summer's gathering. Far away
towards the south sloped the fields, disclosing on either hand many a
snug farm-house amidst its ripening crops, and to the extreme east an
undulating range of dim, blue, shadowy hills. Facing a spectator, as he
stood with his back to the ruined gateway, was the town of Crossbourne,
with its rougher features softened down by the two miles of distance;
its tall chimneys giving forth lazy curls of smoke, as though pausing to
rest after the ceaseless labours of a vigorous working week. The noble
railway viaduct, spanning the wide valley, was rendered doubly
picturesque by its nearest neighbours of houses being hidden on one side
by a projecting hill; while the greater part of the old church was
visible, seeming as though its weather-beaten tower were looking down
half sternly, half kindly on the eager thousands, who were living, too
many of them, wholly for a world whose glory and fashion were quickly
passing away. And now, till a bandsman should give a trumpet-signal for
tea, all the holiday-makers, both old and young, dispersed themselves
among the ruins, and through the wood, and over the rising ground in the
rear.
Strange contrast! Those crumbling stones, that time-worn archway, those
shattered windows, that rusty portcullis, all surely, though
imperceptibly, corroding under the ceaseless waste of "calm decay," and
sadly suggestive of wealth, and power, and beauty all buried in the dust
of bygone days; and, on the other hand, the lusty present, full of
vigour, energy, and bustling life, to be seen in the gaily-decked
visitors swarming amidst the ruins in every direction, and to be heard
in the loud shouts and ringing laughter of children, and of men and
women too, who had sprung back into their childhood's reckless buoyancy
for a brief hour or two.
And now the shrill blast of the trumpet called the revellers to tea.
This was set out in rough but picturesque form, in the centre of what
had once been the great hall. New-planed planks, covered with
unbleached calico, and supported on trestles, formed the tables; while
the tea-making apparatus had been set up in what had originally been the
kitchen, near to which there welled up a stream of the purest water.
When as many were seated as could be accommodated at once, the vicar was
just about to give out the opening grace, when a young man decorated
with an exceedingly yellow waistcoat, and as intensely blue a temperance
bow, came hastily up to him, and whispered mysteriously in his ear. The
smile with which this communication was received showed that there was
nothing amiss. Having asked the assembled company to wait for a minute,
Mr Maltby hastened out of the building, and quickly returned, leading
in Dr and Mrs Prosser. A shout of surprised and hearty welcome
greeted the entrance of the new guests.
"This is not to me," said the vicar, "an altogether unexpected pleasure;
but I would not say anything about the doctor's coming, as, though I had
invited him, he left it very doubtful whether his engagements would
allow him to be here, and I had pretty well given him up. But I am sure
we are all rejoiced to see him among us on this happy occasion."--There
could be no doubt of that, and the doctor and his wife being
accommodated with places, grace was sung, and the tea began in earnest.
If you want thoroughly to appreciate a good tea, be in the habit of
drinking nothing stronger, take a moderate walk on a bright, blowy
summer's afternoon, have a scramble with a lot of little children till
all your breath is gone for the time being, and then sit down, if you
are privileged to have the opportunity, in the open-air, to such a meal
as was spread before the temperance holiday-makers of Crossbourne. Dr
Prosser and his wife thought they had never enjoyed anything more in
their lives, and looking round saw a sparkling happiness on every face,
the result in part, at any rate, of partaking of that most gentle,
innocent, and refreshing of stimulants--tea.
But even the most importunate tea-cup must rest at last; and so, while
the first division, having been fully satisfied, gave way to a second,
the band struck up a torrent of music, and in due time sat down
themselves with those whom they had helped to cheer with their
enlivening strains. And now the last cup of tea had been emptied, and
the most persevering of the Band of Hope boys had reluctantly retired,
leaving an unfinished plate of muffins master of the field.
The fragments were gathered up, the tables and trestles removed, and the
trumpeter, invigorated by his inspiriting meal, poured forth a blast
loud and long to recall the stragglers. It was close upon half-past
six, and all began now to assemble, pouring in from all quarters into
the central open space. A few chairs had been brought, and were
appropriated to the ladies and speakers. Two large cake-baskets turned
on their ends, with two stout planks across them, served for a table,
which was placed in front of a huge fragment of a buttress, beneath
which irregular masses of fallen moss-covered stone made very fairly
comfortable seats for some of the more special friends and supporters;
while the audience generally were seated all up and down within hearing
distance, forming a most picturesque congregation, as they sat, or
stood, or lay down, as proved most convenient. By the time the vicar
was ready to commence the proceedings, the space all round him was
rapidly filling with men and women from the town, who had not been at
the tea, but were drawn by interest or curiosity to be present at the
after-meeting.
All were very silent as the vicar, after the usual preliminary hymn and
prayer, rose, and began as follows:--
"I make no apology, dear friends, for being about to occupy a portion of
your time by addressing you this evening; but I shall not detain you
long. Still, what I have to say is of deep importance to you all, and,
therefore, I must ask your earnest and patient attention.
"Without further preface, then, I do earnestly desire to impress upon
you all this truth, that there can be no real peace, no solid happiness
in this world, unless we are _consciously_ seeking to live to the glory
of God. I look around me, and see with alarm, in these days of
increased knowledge and intelligence, how entirely many thoughtful
people are living without God in the world; I mean, without having any
_conscious_ communion or connection with him.
"This is so very dangerous a feature of our times, because there is at
the same time a very widely spread respect for religion. Coarse abuse
and reviling of religion and religious people are frowned upon now by
all persons of education and refinement as vulgar and illiberal. But
yet, with this respect for religion and its followers, there seems to be
growing up a conviction or impression that people can be good, and
happy, and profitable in their day without any religion at all. If you
are religious, well and good, no one should meddle with you; and if you
are consistent, all should respect you, and it would be exceedingly bad
taste to quarrel with you for your opinions. But then, if you are _not_
religious, well and good too, no one should meddle with you, and it
would be very uncharitable, and in very bad taste, to quarrel with you
about your creed or views. Religion, in fact, is becoming with many a
matter of pure indifference--a matter of taste; you may do well _with_
it, and you may do as well, or nearly as well, _without_ it.
"Hence it has come to pass that there are to be found men of science and
learning who never trouble themselves about religion at all. They would
certainly never care to abuse it; but then they plainly think that
science, and the world, and society can get on perfectly well without
it.
"And what is worse still, even professedly religious people are being
carried down this stream of opinion, without being fully or perhaps at
all conscious whither it has been leading them. Thus, even ladies
professing godliness are being entangled by the intellectual snares of
the day, and are so pursuing the shadows of this world--its honours, its
prizes, its mind-worship--as to become by degrees almost wholly
separated from God and thoughts of him. And thus, while they do not
outwardly neglect the ordinances of religion, they have ceased to meet
God in them; they hear in them a pleasing sound rather than a living
voice, and find themselves offering to God, when they join in psalms and
hymns and spiritual songs, rather a mere musical accompaniment than the
intelligent melody of a heart that believes and loves.
"Oh, don't be deceived, dear friends, any of you. You who go to the
mills, or are engaged in any other manual labour, don't think, because
you may be spending your evenings and leisure in mechanics' institutes,
or in attending science classes, or in working up scientific subjects,
that in these pursuits you can find real peace, without religion and
without God; that religion is no matter of necessity, but only a
comfortable and creditable superfluity; or that, at any rate, by using
outward attendance on religious ordinances, as a sort of make-weight,
you can be solidly happy while your hearts are far from God. It cannot
be. You are not thus disgracing our common humanity like the drunkards
and profligates, but, then, you are not fulfilling the true law of your
being; you cannot be doing so while you are travelling all your lives in
a circle which keeps you ever on the outside of the influence of the
love and of the grace of that God who made you and that Saviour who
redeemed you.
"Don't mistake me, dear friends; I rejoice with all my heart to see
progress of every kind amongst you, so long as it is real. Some people
say that we ministers of the gospel are foes to education and to
intellectual progress. Nay, it is not so. I will tell you what we are
foes to, and unflinching foes; we are foes to all that is false and
hollow, and we assert that nothing can be sound and true which puts the
God who made us out of his place, and thrusts him down from his rightful
throne in our hearts. Study science by all means, cultivate your
intellects, elevate your tastes, refine your pursuits. But then,
remember that you are, after all, not your own in any of these things,
for Christ has purchased you for himself. Begin with him, and he will
give you peace, and an abiding blessing upon _all_ that you do; but
never suppose that you can be really living as you ought to live,--that
is, as God made you and meant you to live,--while you are feeding your
intellects and starving your souls.
"And now I will only add how happy I am to meet you all here. We are
about soon to part with one who is well-known to many of you,--Jane
Bradly. It is partly in connection with the Lord's wonderful dealings
with her, as you will hear shortly from her brother Thomas, that we have
set on foot this happy gathering. It is one cheering sign of real
progress in Crossbourne that our Temperance Society and Band of Hope are
so nourishing. You know the rock on which we have founded them; I mean,
on love to the Lord Jesus Christ. May these societies long flourish! I
trust we shall gain some members to-night; for Thomas, I know, has got
the pledge-book with him. And now I have much pleasure in calling on
William Foster to address you."
When Foster rose to speak there was a deep hush, a silence that might be
felt.
"If I had come to a gathering like this a year ago," began the speaker,
"it would have been as a mocker or a spy. But how different are things
with me to-day! I am now one of yourselves, a total abstainer upon
principle, an unfeigned believer in the Bible, and a loyal though very
unworthy disciple of the Lord Jesus Christ. I have good cause to
remember these old ruins, as you all know; but you do not many of you
know how I used to spend Sabbath after Sabbath here in gambling; and yet
the good Lord bore with me. And it is not long since that he gave me a
wonderful deliverance, not far from the spot where I now stand. But I
am not going to refer any more to that, except to say, let by-gones be
by-gones. I bear no ill-will to those who have shown themselves my
enemies. What I want to do now, for the few minutes that I shall stand
here, is just to give you my experience about the Bible.
"When I was professedly an unbeliever, I thought I knew a great deal
about the Bible, and I used to lay down the law, and talk very big about
this inconsistency and that inconsistency in the Scriptures, and I just
read those books which supplied me with weapons of attack. But I was in
utter ignorance of what the Bible really was; and had I read it from
beginning to end a thousand times over,--which I never did, nor even
once,--it would have been all the same, for I should not have read it in
a candid spirit--I should not have wanted to know what it had to tell
me.
"It's just perfectly natural. I remember that two of our men went up to
London some time ago, and they strolled together into the Kensington
Museum. When they came back, we asked them what they had seen there,
and what they liked best. One of them had seen a great number of rich
and curiously inlaid cabinets, but he could call to mind nothing else,
though he had spent hours in the place, and had been all over it
upstairs and downstairs. As for the other man, he couldn't for the life
of him remember anything, but he could tell you all about the dinner
they had together at a chop-house afterwards,--what meat, what
vegetables, what liquor they had, and how much it cost to a penny. You
see it was what their mind was set on that really engrossed their
attention.
"And so it is in going through the Bible: you'll not get a word of
instruction from it, if you go in at Genesis and come out at Revelation,
if you go in with an unteachable mind. God would have us ask him
humbly, but not dictate to him. Or you may notice in the Bible just
such things as you want to notice, and not see anything else, though
it's as plain as daylight. So it was with me, and so it has been and
will be with thousands of sceptics. I just looked into a Bible now and
then to find occasion for cavilling and scoffing, and I found what I
wanted. But I missed all the love, and the mercy, and the promises, and
the holy counsel, and never so much as knew they were there, though my
eyes passed over them continually.
"But now the Bible is a new book to me altogether. I can truly say, in
its own words, `The law of thy mouth is dearer unto me than thousands of
gold and silver.' The more I read, the more I wonder: often and often,
when I come to some marvellous passage, I am constrained to stop and bow
my head in astonishment and adoration. There's nothing like studying
the book itself--asking God, of course, to give one the guidance of his
Holy Spirit. The more I read, the more I find verses that just as
exactly fit into my own experience as if they had been penned especially
in reference to the history, circumstances, character, and wants of
William Foster; and no doubt they were, for that's a most wonderful
thing about the Bible, and shows that it is God's book,--I mean that it
as much suits each individual man's case as if it had been originally
written for that man only.
"I remember there was an American in our country some years ago, who
said he would open any lock you could bring him; and so I believe he
did, by making ingenious picks that would get into the most complicated
locks. But that's nothing to the Bible; for without any force or
difficulty it comes as one universal key that will unlock every heart,
and open up its most secret thoughts and feelings, and then throw light
and peace into the darkest corners. This is what the Bible has been and
is to me; it shows me daily more of myself, and more of Christ and his
love, and more of a heaven begun on earth.
"Now I would just advise and urge you all to take up this blessed book
in a humble and teachable spirit, and you'll find it to be to you what
God in his mercy has made it to me. And I'll tell you how to deal with
difficulties, and hard places, and so on. Now, mind, I'm only just
giving you a leaf out of my own experience. I'm not setting myself up
as a teacher. I'm not saying a word to disparage God's ministers, for
they are specially appointed by him to study, and unfold, and expound
the Word; and I can only say with sincere thankfulness that I come home
with new light on the Bible from every sermon which I hear from our
earnest and deeply taught clergyman. But, as regards our own private
reading, just let me say, if you come to a hard place, read it again;
and if you don't understand it then, read it again; and if you don't
understand it then, why, read somewhere else in the book, and you'll
find that the more you study the Word throughout, the more one passage
will throw light upon another, the more your mind and heart will expand
and embrace and understand truths which were wholly hidden or only
imperfectly seen before. This, at any rate, is my own happy experience,
and my dear wife's also. May God make it the experience of every one of
you."
He sat down again amidst the profoundest silence, and then all joined
heartily in the hymn beginning,--
"Holy Bible, book divine,
Precious treasure, thou art mine."
The vicar then called upon James Barnes to speak.
"Well, I don't know," began Jim, starting up, and plunging headlong into
his address; "I don't feel at all fit to stand up in such a company as
this, and yet I've got summat to say, and it's a good deal to the point
too, I think. At our last public temperance meeting, the first I'd the
pleasure of speaking at, we had a noisy set of fellows trying to put me
down, and now we're all as quiet as lambs.
"Well, William Foster's just been giving you his experience about the
Bible, and I can say amen to all he's been a-saying; I mean this, that
the good book's been doing for him and me just what he says. It's been
and made a changed man of him, there's no doubt about that. He's been a
kind friend to me, and he's been a kind friend to many as has often had
nothing but hard words for him. I like to see a man live up to what he
professes.
"Perhaps you'll say, `Jim, why don't you set us an example?' Well, I'm
trying, and I hopes to do better by-and-by. But there's no mistake
about William. He aren't like a chap I heard talk of the other day. A
friend of mine were very much taken up with him.--`Eh! You should hear
him talk,' he says. `You never heard a man talk like him; he'd talk a
parrot dumb, he would.'--`Very likely,' says I; `but does he practise
what he preaches?'--`Why, they reckon not,' says my friend. Now that
sort don't suit me; and it oughtn't to suit any of us, I'm sure. We
temperance people aren't like that.
"Ah! It's a fine thing is this temperance, if you only get hold of it
by the Bible end. See what it's been and done for me and mine. Look at
my wife Polly there, sitting on that big stone--(Nay, Polly, 'tain't no
use your shaking your head and winking; I _must_ have it out)--just look
at her: you wouldn't believe as she's the same woman if you'd only seen
her at our old house a year ago. I can scarce believe myself as she's
the same sometimes. I has to make her stand at the other end of the
room now and then to get a long view of her, to be sure she's the same.
She's like a new pin now, bright and clean, with the head fixed on in
the right place.
"Ah! You may laugh, friends, but it's nothing but the plain truth.
There's a deal of difference in pins. You just take up a new one, as
shines all over like silver, and it'll stand hard work, and it's just as
if it were all of a piece--that's like my wife now. But you get hold of
an old yaller crooked pin, with point bent down to scratch you, and when
you try to make use of it, the head's in the wrong place, it's got
slipped down, and the thick end of the pin runs into your finger, and
makes you holler out--that's like what my wife _was_. But she's not a
bit like that now; she's like the new pin, bless her; and it's been
Tommy Tracks--I begs his pardon--it's been Mr Thomas Bradly, and the
Bible, and the temperance pledge as has been and gone and done it all.
"And then there's the children. Why, they used to have scarce a whole
suit of clothes between 'em, and that were made of nearly as many odd
pieces and patches as there's days in the year. And as for boots, why,
when they'd got to go anywheres, one on 'em, on an errand, and wanted to
look a bit respectable, he were forced to put on the only pair of boots
as had got any soles to 'em, and that pair belonged to the middlemost,
but they fitted the eldest middlin' well, as they let in plenty of air
at the toes. And what's the case now? Why, on a Saturday night you can
see a whole row of boots standing two and two by the cupboard door, and
they shines so bright with blacking, the cat's fit to wear herself out
by setting up her back and spitting at her own likeness in 'em. It's
the gospel and temperance as has done this.
"But that ain't all. I've knowed two of our lads fight over a dirty
crust as they'd picked out of the gutter, for their mother hadn't got
nothing for them to eat,--how could she, poor thing, when the money had
all gone down my throat? It's very different now. We've good bread and
butter too on our table every day, with an onion or two, or a red
herring to give it a relish, and now and then a rasher of bacon, or a
bit of fresh meat; and before so very long I've good hopes as we shall
have a pig of our own. Eh! Won't that be jolly for the children? I
told 'em I thought of getting one soon. Says our little Tom, `Daddy,
how do they make the pig into bacon?' `They rub it with salt,' says I.
Next day, at dinner-time, I watched him put by a little salt into a
small bag, and next day too, and so on for a week. So at last I says,
`What's that for, Tommy?' `Daddy,' says he, `I'm keeping it for the new
pig. Eh! Won't I rub it into him, and make bacon of him, as soon as he
comes?'
"But I ax your pardon, friends, for telling you all this.--`Go on,' do
you say? Well, I'll go on just for a bit. So you see what a blessing
the giving up the drink has been to me and my family. And, what's
better still, it's left room for the gospel to enter. It couldn't get
in when the strong drink blocked up the road. I'm not going to boast; I
should get a tumble, I know, if I did that. It ain't no goodness of
mine, I'm well aware of that. It's the Lord's doing, and his blessing
on Thomas Bradly's kindness and care for a poor, wretched, ruined sinner
like me. But here's the fact: we has the Bible out now every night in
our house, and I reads some of the blessed book out loud, and then we
all kneels us down and has a prayer; and we goes to church on Sundays,
and it's like a little heaven below. Rather different that from what it
used to be on the Sabbath-day, when I were singing and drinking with a
lot of fellows, and it were all good fellowship one minute, and perhaps
a kick into the street or a black eye the next. Ay, and there's many of
the old lot as knows the change, and what the Lord's done for me, and
they're very mad, some on 'em; but that don't matter, so long as they
don't make a madman of me.
"But just a word or two for you boys and girls of the Band of Hope afore
I sit down.--Now, I've brought with me, by Mr Bradly's leave, something
to show you." So saying, he beckoned to a young man, who handed him a
small basket. He opened it, and produced a small jar with a brush in
it. A half-suppressed murmur of merriment ran through the crowd. "Ah!
You know what this is, I see," continued James Barnes. "'Tain't the
first time as this has made its appearance in Cricketty Hall. Now, I'm
not going to say anything ill-natured about it. As William Foster has
said, `let by-gones be by-gones.' It's very good of him to say so, and
I only mean to give you a word or two on the subject. This little jar
has got tar in it, and tar's a very wholesome and useful thing in its
proper place. Now, a few months ago them as shall be nameless meant to
daub William all over with this, and feather him afterwards, because he
wouldn't break his pledge. A cowardly lot they was to deal so with one
man against a dozen of 'em; but that's neither here nor there. I only
want you, boys and girls, to take example by William, and stick to your
pledge through thick and thin. See how the Lord protected him, and how
his worst enemy were caught in his own trap. He were just winding a
cord round his own legs when he thought he'd got William's feet fast in
the snare. Now, boys and girls, when you're tempted to break the
pledge, just think of this jar of tar, and offer up a prayer to be kept
firm. 'Twouldn't be a bad thing--specially if you're much in the way of
temptation--just to get a jar like this of your own, and hang it up in
the wash-house, and put some good fresh tar in it, and, just before you
go to your work of a morning, take a good long sniff at the tar--it's a
fine healthy smell is tar--and maybe it'll be a help to you the whole
day. There, I've done."
And he sat down as abruptly as he had risen, amid the hearty cheers and
laughter of his hearers.
The vicar then introduced Dr Prosser, remarking that he was sure that
those who had heard him lecture last April would be delighted to listen
to his voice again. The doctor, who was vociferously cheered, stood
forward and said:--
"I have the greatest pleasure in being with you, dear friends, to-day.
I have heard a great deal of what has been going on from your excellent
vicar, and have now listened with the deepest interest to the
characteristic speeches which have just been made. I shall be glad now
to say a few words, and to add my testimony to the importance of certain
truths which need enforcing in our day. Thomas Bradly is to follow me,
and I feel sure that his homely eloquence and plain practical good sense
will be a fit termination to this most truly interesting meeting.
"What I would now urge upon you all is this,--the unspeakable importance
in these days of grasping realities instead of hunting shadows. I have
been, I fear, till lately, more or less of a shadow-hunter myself. I
used to sympathise with the cry,--
"`For names and creeds let senseless bigots fight--
He can't be wrong whose life is in the right.'
"But I don't think this now. We men of science are too apt to deal with
abstractions, and to follow out favourite theories, till we are in
danger of forgetting that we have hearts and souls as well as heads;
that, as has been beautifully said, `The heart has its arguments as well
as the understanding;' and that, as God's Word tells us, `The things
which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are
eternal.' I am more and more strongly persuaded of this every day. We
are living in times of immense energy and surprising intellectual
activity, but, at the same time, are surrounded with unrealities or
half-realities. We want something to grasp that will never deceive us,
never fly from us. Anything--like mere vague generalities will never
satisfy beings constituted as you and I are; and thus it is that we
cannot do without something real in our religion, something definite.
We want to come into real communion with a personal Being, whom we can
consciously, though spiritually, approach, love, and reverence. We want
a real person such as ourselves, and yet infinitely above ourselves; and
such an one we have in the Lord Jesus Christ, our Saviour--one who is
like us as man, yet infinitely above us as God--one who can smile on us,
because he is human, and can watch over us, guide us, and bear with us,
because he is divine.
"Be sure of this, dear friends,--and I am speaking to you now as persons
of intelligence, who can thoughtfully weigh what I say,--science can
never be true science, knowledge can never be real knowledge which sets
aside the God who is the fountain of all truth and every kind of truth.
If we are to learn anything aright and thoroughly, we must learn it as
believers in Him in whom `we live, and move, and have our being,' who
has given us all our faculties, and placed us in the midst of that
universe all of whose laws are of his own imposing and maintaining.
Depend upon it, you cannot acquire any sound and useful knowledge
aright, if you try and keep up an independence of that God who is the
author and upholder of all things physical and spiritual. At the Cross
we must learn the only way of peace for our souls; and, in dependence on
the grace and wisdom of Him who is in every sense the Light of the
world, we must seek to make real advance in every field of knowledge,
content to know and feel our own ignorance, and thankful to gain light
in _all_ our investigations from Him who can at the same time baffle the
searchings of the wisest, and unfold to the humble yet patient and
persevering inquirer treasures of knowledge and wisdom otherwise
unattained and unattainable. In a word, as the whole universe belongs
to the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, and was made by him what it is,
if we would pursue any branch of knowledge, any science whatever, with
the truest and fullest prospect of success, we must do it as Christians,
as in dependence on Him `in whom are hid all the treasures of wisdom and
knowledge.'
"This, I am well aware, is not the tendency of the age, which is rather
to seek knowledge apart from God, and to treat science and religion as
distant and cold acquaintances, instead of loving and inseparable
friends.--But now I gladly give way to my old friend Thomas Bradly, who
has, I know, something to tell us which will do us good, if we will only
carry it away with us."
"Yes," said Bradly, slowly and thoughtfully, as he took the speaker's
place, by the vicar's invitation, "it is true, dear friends, that I have
something of moment to say to you. This has truly been a happy day to
me so far. I rejoice in the presence of so many dear friends; and it is
indeed kind of Dr Prosser to be at the trouble to come among us, and
give us those words of weighty counsel which we have just heard. I have
listened to the other speeches also with very great satisfaction. I
think we're got on the right foundation, and we only wants to stick
there.
"Well now, dear friends, I've got something to show you here. Look at
this little book; it ain't got much outward show about it, but it's got
the old-fashioned words of God's truth inside. It was my mother's Bible
afore she were married, and a blessed book it were to her, and to her
children too. I think I can see her now, sitting of a summer's evening,
after the day's work were done, under an old apple tree, on a seat as my
father had made for her. She would get us children round her, and be so
happy with her little Bible, reading out its beautiful stories to us,
and telling us of the love of Jesus. She always read the Bible to us
with a smile, unless we'd any of us been doing anything wrong, and then
she read to us what the Bible tells us about sin, and she looked grave
indeed then.
"Well, when she died, the little book were left to our Jane--her mother
wished it so--and Jane prized it more than gold, and used to mark her
favourite verses with a line of red-ink under 'em; it were her way, and
helped to bring the passages she wished particularly to remember more
quickly to her eye. But the Lord was ordering and overruling this
marking for his own special purposes. Look at the book again; you can
many of you see the red lines.
"Now, it's some years ago as me and mine was living a long way off from
here. Jane were in service at a great house, and the butler and lady's-
maid, who hated the truth and poor Jane, because she loved it and stood
up for it, managed to take away her character in the eyes of her
mistress; but the Lord has graciously opened her mistress's eyes at
last, and that cloud is passed away for ever. I only mention this just
to bring in this little book. The butler, to vex poor Jane, had taken
away her Bible from her before he took away her character; but what
happened? Why, when she had left the place, he goes to his drawer and
takes out the Bible when he were looking for summat else; for he'd quite
forgot as he'd hid it there. He sees the red lines, and reads the
verses over them, and they make him think, and he's brought to
repentance.
"The little book's beginning to do great things. He wants to restore
the book, and make amends to Jane, does the butler; but he's been such a
rogue, he's obliged to take himself away into foreign parts somewhere.
But I don't doubt but what he'll come right in the end; the Word'll not
let him alone till it's brought him to the foot of the cross. As he's
on his way abroad, he leaves the Bible at the station here to be taken
to our house; but it manages to get lost on the way, and turns up at
last in the tap-room of a public-house. Now, just mark this. If the
Bible had come straight to our house, it would have helped to clear
Jane's character with her mistress, and no more; but there were other
work for it to do. The publican's daughter gets hold of it, and sees
the red lines. She sees the verses above 'em, and they pricks her
conscience. She don't like this, and she resolves to get rid of the
book. Yes, yes; but the little book has taken good aim at her heart,
and shot two or three arrows into it, and she can't get 'em out; it's
been doing its work, or rather the Lord's work. So she takes it with
her in the dark, and drops it into William Foster's house, of all places
in Crossbourne.
"Just fancy any one leaving a Bible in that house ten months ago. But
it came at the very nick of time. William's wife were in great trouble,
and she'd tried a great many sticks to lean upon, but they'd all snapped
like glass when she leaned her weight on 'em--she found nothing as'd
ease the burden of an aching heart. It were just at the right time,
then, as the little Bible fell into her room. She took it up, noticed
the red lines, and some precious promises they was scored under, and by
degrees she found peace.--Eh, but William must know nothing of this; how
he would scoff if he found his wife reading the Bible!--But what's this?
William finds his missus quite a changed woman; she's twice the wife to
him she was, and his home ain't like the same place. What's the secret
of this change? He don't like to ask; but he watches, and he finds the
worn old Bible hidden in the baby's cradle. He reads it secretly; he
prays over it; the scales fall from his eyes; he becomes a changed man;
he comes out boldly and nobly for Christ; he and his wife rejoice
together in the Lord.
"But the little homely book hadn't quite done its work yet. Foster one
night asks me to help him in a little trouble which the words of the
book had got him into. Strange that, isn't it? No, 'tain't strange;
'cos there's deep things, wonderful things, and terrible things in that
blessed book; but then there's light too to help you past these deep
pits, if you'll only use the Word as God's lamp. I takes up the Bible
to help William to a bright text or two, and I sees my mother's name in
the cover. Here was our long-lost Bible; its work so far were done, and
now it's got back to its rightful owner. But after we'd got it back
we'd some time to wait; but waiting-times are blessed times for true
Christians. At last the full evidence, of which Jane's Bible were one
little link, came up, and my dear sister's character were cleared of
every spot and stain as had been cast upon it by her fellow-servants.
"Now, what I want you to notice, dear friends, is just this--how
wonderfully the Lord has worked in this matter. If my dear sister had
not suffered in the first instance from the tongue of the slanderer,
that blessed book'd never have done all this good, as far as we can see.
The butler wouldn't have been convinced of sin; the publican's daughter
wouldn't have been brought to repentance and praise; William and his
wife wouldn't have been made happy and rejoicing believers. And indeed,
though I can't explain all now, neither, as far as we can tell, would
Jim Barnes have been what he now is, with his missus like a new pin, nor
would poor Ned Taylor have died a humble penitent. All these precious
fruits have growed and ripened out of the loss of my dear sister's
Bible. And she herself--well, it's been a sore trial, but it's yielded
already the peaceable fruit of righteousness. She's lost nothing in the
end but a little dross, and her sorrow has helped to bring joy to many.
"Now, I ask you all to cling to the grand old book; to use it as a sword
and a lamp,--a sword against your spiritual enemies, and a lamp to guide
you to heaven. We've heard a good deal just now of the special dangers
of our own times, how people are getting wise above what's written. Ah!
But `the wisdom of this world is foolishness with God.' Dr Prosser's
a man of science, and you've heard his experience. You see he finds he
can't get on without the old-fashioned gospel. A religion without a
regular creed's no use at all. He's found out as religion without a
real human and divine Saviour's only moonshine; nay, it's no shine at
all; it's just darkness, and nothing else. There's a striking verse in
the prophet Jeremiah as just suits these days. It's this, and I'm
reading it out of Jane's Bible. You'll find it in Jeremiah, the eighth
chapter and the ninth verse: `The wise men are ashamed, they are
dismayed and taken: lo, they have rejected the word of the Lord; and
what wisdom is in them?' Well, but do you cling to the old Bible--
there's nothing like it. There's many a showy life just now as looks
well enough outside; but if you want a life as'll wear well you must
fashion it by God's Word.
"Now, afore I sits down, I'm just a-going to tell you about Dick
Trundle's house-warming.--Dick were one of them chaps as are always for
making a bit of a show, and making it cost as little as possible. He
were a hard-working man, and didn't spend much in drink, so he managed
to get a little money together, and he puts up half-a-dozen houses. The
end one were bigger than the rest, and had a bow-window to it.--Well,
Dick were a bachelor, and had an old housekeeper to do for him. When
his new houses were built, and he were just ready to go into his own, he
resolves to have a house-warming, and he invites me and three other
chaps to tea and supper with him. We'd some of us noticed as he'd been
sending a lot of things to the house for days past.--When the right day
was come, we goes to the front door, 'cos it looked more civil, and we
knocks. Dick himself comes to the door, and says through the keyhole,
`I must ask you to go round, for the door sticks, and I can't open it.'
So we goes round.--There were a very handsome clock in the passage, in a
grand mahogany case. `Seven o'clock!' says I, looking at it; `surely we
can't be so late.' `Oh no,' says he, `the clock stands. I got it dirt
cheap, but there's something amiss with the works. But it's a capital
clock, they tell me, entirely on a new principle.'--We was to have tea
in the best parlour. `Dear me,' says one of my mates, `what a smell of
gas!' `Yes,' says Dick; `ain't them beautiful gas-fittings? I got 'em
second-hand for an old song, but I'm afraid they leak a bit.'--We should
have been pretty comfortable at tea, only the window wouldn't shut
properly, and there came in such a draught as set us all sneezing. `I'm
sorry,' says Dick, `as you're inconvenienced by that draught; it's the
builder's fault. Of course I took the lowest estimate for these houses,
and the rascal's been and put me in green wood; but the carpenter shall
set it all right to-morrow.'--But the worst of all was, the gas escaped
so fast it had to be turned off at the meter. `Ah!' says he, `that
won't matter for to-night, for I've bought a famous lamp, a new patent.
I got it very reasonable, because the man who wanted to part with it
were giving up housekeeping and going abroad.' So we had the lamp in,
and a splendid looking thing it were; but I thought I saw a crack in the
middle, only I didn't like to say so. Well, all of a sudden, just in
the middle of the supper, the lamp falls right in two among the dishes,
and the oil all pours out over my neighbour's clothes. Such a scene
there was! I tried to keep from laughing, but I couldn't stop, though I
almost choked myself.--Dick, you may be sure, weren't best pleased. It
were a bad job altogether; so we bade good-night as soon as it were
civil to do so. But I shall never forget Dick Trundle's house-warming,
nor the lesson it taught me.
"What we want, dear friends, is, not what's new, cheap, and showy, but
what's solid, and substantial, and thoroughly well made. Will it _wear_
well? That's the question after all. Dick's fine things was just got
up for show; they'd no wear in 'em--they was cheap and worthless. Now
there's a deal of religion going in our day as is like Dick Trundle's
house and purchases; it's quite new, it makes a great show, it looks
very fine, till you come to search a little closer into it. But it
ain't according to the old Bible make: it don't get beyond the head; it
can't satisfy the heart. What we want is a religion that's real--just
the religion of the gospel, as puts Jesus Christ and his work first and
foremost. If you haven't got that, you've got nothing as you can depend
on it'll fail you when you most want it. It may be called very wide,
and very intelligent, and very enlightened, but it won't act in the day
of trouble, and when the conscience gets uneasy.
"Well, now, we've got a happy company here to-night; we're many of us
total abstainers on principle and most of us, I hope, Bible Christians
on principle, after the old fashion; for, if we haven't Christ and his
Word for our foundation, we haven't got that as'll stand the test. No,
friends, take the word of Tommy Tracks--and you've got what'll confirm
what I say all round you in this meeting to-night--the life as is begun,
continued, and ended in the fear of God, and with the Bible for its
guide, and Jesus for its example, is the life that's just what you and I
were meant to live by the God who made us and redeemed us, and it's
plainly and unmistakably the life that _wears_ best."