A BLACKLEG--MINIATURE ALTAR--THE PEACEMAKER--THE WAFER--AN ANIMATED
SANDWICH--SAVED FROM ERROR--THE TRAVELLING TINKER--THE DYING CHILD.
THE BOOK IN THE COURT:
ITS AUTHORITY.
"To the law and to the testimony: if they speak not according to
this word, it is because there is no light in them." ISA. viii. 20.
If the crew of a man of war may be regarded as a "little world," the
densely-packed hundreds of our Court could certainly claim the same
distinction. In addition to the miserable shelter which conferred upon
them the few joys of home and the associations of their life-struggles,
there were many links to the large outer world. All, without exception,
had to do battle with keen, cold poverty; and in the morning as they
left their dwellings it was amusing to contemplate the nature of their
various pursuits, as fifty-six different callings were professed by
them. The costermongers might be seen pushing out their barrows of
vegetables, fruit, and coarse fish. The hucksters and the itinerant
herbalist with their boxes. The sweep with his machine, and the Punch
and Judy man with his show upon his shoulders, and red-coated dog Toby
at his heels. Professed beggars, confirmed thieves, and the
fortune-telling women, left at more genteel hours; while the workers
with the needle, both men and women, might at all times be seen hurrying
off to shops with the work they had accomplished in "poverty, hunger,
and dirt." And then, strange as it may seem, there were inhabitants in
that obscure place which linked it to the upper classes. In a
first-floor front lived two aged women, one of them a lady of
eighty-four years. Though very feeble and careless as regarded present
comforts, she had a vivid recollection of persons and of events
connected with the beginning of the century. She was the daughter of a
physician, and had been governess to the children of a Duke, and
received a pension of £30 a year, which was her living. Her delight was
to untie bundles of letters with crested seals and arms upon them, to
show the autographs, and to relate anecdotes of her great friends who
had long passed away, but several of whose names live in their country's
records. Her companion was the widow of a mechanic, with an allowance
from the parish. She always treated the lady with respect, and a close
friendship had for many years existed between them. In death they were
scarcely divided, as she only survived the lady for a few weeks.
The blackleg who for some months shared a room with two news-boys, had
the unmistakable bearing of a gentleman, and though a master of slang he
could not divest his tongue of its College culture. At a time of
compunction he told the visitor that he was the brother of a Baronet,
but that dissipation and gambling had reduced him to want bread. "I bear
an alias," he continued, "that the family name may not be disgraced, but
I will never humble myself to relations. I am now out of luck, and have
to act as billiard-marker in a low flash house, but I have nicely hedged
my book for the Derby, and if fortune smiles I shall have sufficient
cash to establish myself in Canada, where I may rise to my proper
position." At the time of the Derby he was absent from his lodgings for
a week; one morning he returned well dressed, paid up his lodging, gave
the news-boys ten shillings each, as "nest eggs" for the savings-bank,
left a note for the Missionary, expressing his sincere thanks for his
kind interest in him; and after that was not heard of again.
In our little world there were also those who had defined religious and
political opinions, and the people were not always free from the
excitement which on some subjects disturbs the outer world. There were
barber's shop and taproom politicians, as well as "anti-theologians,"
and several, who through ignorance of the truth, were the victims of
superstition. The great body of the men were of Republican and Communist
opinions, and belonged to what are justly called "the dangerous
classes," while the principles of pure and undefiled religion were only
beginning to exert their influence in forming public opinion in our
Court. Just at this time new occupants entered the back parlour of No.
11, and a short account of them and their proceedings will help to show
the mind of the people.
The family consisted of an Irishwoman and her two sons. She was employed
at a Roman Catholic Chapel, and her two sons served at the altar. At
home they showed their devotion by placing a miniature altar upon a
table opposite their door, which was usually open. It was prettily
arranged, with its sacred place high in the centre, and its covering of
silk with finely wrought cross and sprigs of flowers. On one side was a
little font-like vessel containing holy water, and on the other an image
of "the Virgin," with a bunch of artificial flowers at her feet. At
times the room was darkened and several small candles were lit upon the
altar. The effect was striking, and as the lodgers passed they looked
with a kind of awe at the woman and her sons when prostrate before it.
As other Romanists went into the room to perform their devotions, and as
they commenced circulating little books, the family became a trial to
the Missionary. The enemy was sowing tares, but a circumstance occurred
which neutralized the bad influence.
If this was an effort at proselytism, they fixed upon a bad position for
the purpose, as the next room was occupied by a young man who styled
himself a "positive religionist." He was a shoemaker, but by
self-culture had educated himself above his fellows. He was well read in
infidel literature, and being of a reflective, philosophical order of
mind, had worked out a system of opposition to Divine revelation. The
infidels of the neighbourhood regarded him as their "coming man," and
his fame was spreading, as he was clever in argument and powerful in
debate. The Missionary, upon his first visit, felt so powerless in
meeting his objections, that he commenced a course of reading, with the
one object of leading him into the way of truth. This man became
interested in the religious observances of the lodgers in the next room,
and often conversed with them. One morning the youth opened the sacred
place, and taking out a sacramental "wafer," told the infidel that he
had brought it from the chapel; that it was only a wafer then, but that
if a priest pronounced the words of consecration over it, it would
immediately be changed into the Lord Jesus Christ. To confirm this he
gave him a catechism containing the Creed of Pius IV., and pointed out
the words, "In this Sacrament are contained not only the true body of
Christ, and all the constituents of a true body, as _bones_ and
_sinews_, but also _Christ whole and entire_." The infidel read this,
and again asked to see the wonderful wafer. As the youth held it in his
palm, the infidel struck the under part of the hand, and caught the
wafer as it fell. It was broken into several pieces, but he rushed into
his room, and pasted it together upon a piece of brown paper.
About ten days after, the visitor noticed several of the Irish residents
and the youth in an excited conversation. Upon inquiring the cause, they
told him that the young man had taken the blessed wafer round to infidel
meetings, where they had made fun of and pretended to pray to it. "Och,
an' shure," exclaimed a labourer, "an' his riverence never altered it at
all, at all; but howan'iver he says 'twas took by Mick, and 'twasn't
given, and it's himself to do penance!" And then he declared with a
bitter oath, that he would take it back to the priest. As the man had a
pick in his hand, and raised it in a threatening manner, and a crowd,
chiefly of his own countrymen, were assembling, the Missionary felt it
to be his duty to act as peacemaker, and therefore exclaimed with a
smile, "Try reason before the shillelagh: the youth and one of you had
better go with me and ask them to give it back to him!" This was agreed
to, and they made their way to the room of the six "translators," to
which place the young man had fled with his prize when he saw the storm
brewing. The men had pinned the wafer to the wall, and a filthy object
it looked. They were evidently prepared to defend it, but were
embarrassed by the presence of the Missionary, who addressing the young
man, said, "I heard you called a thief; now as positive morality is a
part of positive religion, I have come to ask you to restore the stolen
wafer." "Not I!" he replied, with a merry laugh, in which his companions
joined. "I shall rather try and find a priest, and get him to conjure it
into the Man of Nazareth, to the benefit of my paste as well as the
dough, and then we shall look upon and pray to--" Here, with profane
words, he uttered that name which is high above every name that is named
in heaven and in earth. A shout of derision from the group of infidels
was silenced by the visitor, who said firmly, "This is really bad of
you, to defend an immoral act by an outrage upon my feelings. That wafer
is not, and never can become the Saviour of the world. To believe that,
is no part of the Christian religion, that belief is a horrid corruption
added to the Christian system. Listen while I read from this book, the
standard of Christian faith, Christ's institution of His holy sacrament,
which the wafer-god profanes: 'The Lord Jesus, the same night in which
He was betrayed, took bread; and when He had given thanks, He brake it,
and said, Take, eat: this is My body, which is broken for you: this do
in remembrance of Me. After the same manner He took the cup, when He had
supped, saying, This cup is the new testament in My blood: this do ye,
as oft as ye drink it, in remembrance of Me; for as oft as ye eat this
bread and drink this cup, ye do show the Lord's death till He come.'"
And then, raising his voice, the reader said, "Be it known to you that
the perpetuity of this sacrament is one of the many external evidences
which support a truth in which each of you has a present and eternal
interest; that the Lord Jesus, after accomplishing death for your
salvation, rose from the dead, and is now alive, and is seated at God's
right hand, a Prince and a Saviour." As he ceased speaking the infidels
conferred among themselves; and then the young man unpinned the wafer
from the wall, and handing it to the youth, said, "There, take it back,
as it ain't moral for us to keep it, though it's not worth so much as
one of our bristles, of which we get a lot for a penny; but we never
take one without asking each other for it." The youth seized the dirty
object, and, with his friend, hurried downstairs, while the reader stood
with the sword of the Spirit in his hand, ready to do conflict with the
King's enemies.
Poor wafer! but for the accident of a youth taking thee instead of
another, thou wouldest have been the object of an imposing ceremonial:
placed upon a high altar and surrounded by lighted candles, before thee
incense would have been burned, and priests in gorgeous raiment would
have prostrated themselves, while a congregation of worshippers would
have adored thee as the Lord who had redeemed them. Instead of this,
thou wast the cause of His blessed name being blasphemed, and, as the
embodiment of a lie, made to hinder the salvation of wicked men.
From the time the miniature altar was set up, it was noticed that two
Sisters of Mercy, with their dismal clothing and large baskets,
frequently made their appearance in the Court, and the Widow observed
three children of a poor English family, who lived in the house,
returning from the convent school with the Irish children. Upon speaking
to the mother upon the subject, she said, that "the Sisters came in to
see her and gave her nice things, and asked her to send the children to
their school; and, as one religion was as good as another, she should do
as she liked." The children, when spoken to about their school, repeated
a prayer which they said they "had been taught to say to a great dolly
with a baby in its arms." Upon hearing this, the Missionary decided
upon speaking to the father upon the matter, and in the evening went for
that purpose.
This man was an "animated sandwich," and as he shuffled into the Court
with his worn out shoes and crushed hat, clothing to match being partly
concealed by boards covered with flaming placards, he appeared a
deplorable object. His haggard, careworn expression of face led one to
believe his saying, that "he was a chap as had been smashed up." Little
did he think, as the Missionary followed him upstairs, that he had been
the subject of much thought, and that the visitor he welcomed was as
desirous for his favour as though he had been one of the great of the
earth. The poor man was in a communicative state of mind, and in reply
to inquiries respecting his health and business prospects, made the
following statement.
"You see, master, as how sandwiches never can get on, cos we're a
broke-down lot. Why you should see us afore we starts with our boards,
all a-rubbin' our rheumatisms or a-coughin', so as it is wonderful how
we gets on. But lots of us are respectable though we ain't always
honest, as we get into a public instead of crawling, and there we enjoys
our pipes and talks. Why one on us is a queer old man what had a good
business in the muffin line, and it udd make you stare if you heard the
poetry he makes up, and then you would laugh, and then your eyes would
water like. Well, to-day he brings in a new song all by hisself, and it
all ends with what is called--
"'The man what walks the gutters.'
"And it's a correct account of how we are looked down on, and shows
that none of our old pals will shake our paws, as it's awkward like when
your harms pop out of your side like serampores at the railway; and then
it shows that it's no good to police the men what gets drunk, and fine
'em five shillings, the correct thing being to make 'em sandwiches for a
week with 'vertisements about them teetotal meetings. And then nobs
would mayhaps have to do the boards, which would helewate the
perfession, as all what they does helewates. Howsomever a chap what's a
wagabon offered me his fist, and I kicked his shins; and affor that I
never killed a fly, as my 'art is tender-like. That wagabon ruined us.
My wife was a 'ousemaid, and I was a cabby; and she had twenty-three
sovereigns, and I had ten on 'em. So we made a match, and I took a
stable and borrowed a 'orse, and bought an old cab and did it up, and we
was a-doing first-rate. So that man comes one morning, and says he to
me, 'You're good natured, and if you'll oblige me, I will oblige you;
and I wants to buy a 'orse, and if you'll write across a paper what's a
bill, I'll have the money and will stand treat.' Well, that made me feel
as I was a gent to get money with writing, and I does it; and the treat
I had wasn't no good. Well, three months arter that, a chap comes to my
stable with a paper nearly all print, which said I was to pay that
fifteen pounds I signed on the paper; and I couldn't and I wouldn't, and
I got drunk lots of times, and they hexecuted in the stable, and then I
hadn't a cab; and then I frets, and was werry ill in the hospital; and
then I thought a lot, and says I to myself, says I, 'I ortent to have
writ on that paper, and I ortent to have took to the drink, and I ortent
to have been 'ard with the wife, as I made the trouble. And now I'm a
sandwich I brings her the little bit of money I gets."
"You did wrong," said the Missionary, "in signing that paper without
consulting your wife and your Bible. She might have seen the danger and
prevented it; if not the good Book would have said to you, 'Be not thou
one of them that strike hands, or of them that are sureties for debts.
If thou hast nothing to pay, why should he take away thy bed from under
thee?' I have called in because I find that you are making another
mistake, a very serious one, as regards your children, by allowing them
to go to the convent school. The Sisters have been kind to your wife,
and have persuaded her that there is no difference between their
religion and that which is true; they have however caused your children
to kneel before images, though God in the commandment has said, 'Thou
shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or bow down thyself to them.'
Besides this, they will be taught other things which are not true, and
must therefore injure them. Poor as you are, you are responsible to God
for your children, and you sin by allowing them to be brought up in a
false religion. Bear bravely with your troubles, and brighter days may
come, but do right to your children by allowing me to take them to a
proper school." After a feeble resistance from the mother this was
agreed to, and the visit ended in a reading from the Bible; after which
the family knelt together at the throne of grace. Next morning the
Missionary called for the children and took them to the National School.
During the day the Sisters called upon the mother, and after a short
visit left the Court with a quick tread. The week after, several of the
Romanists, including the family with the miniature altar, left; eleven
of the catechisms they had circulated were exchanged for good books, and
so the effort to Romanize in Paradise Court was stayed.
The opposite house, the door of which was closed upon the Missionary at
his first visit, was known to leading members of the cadging fraternity
as an "easy padding ken," which means "a quiet lodging-house for begging
impostors." As these rogues only stayed a short time, to conceal
themselves from the police or to prepare new deceits for their country
friends, a rapid succession of them was met with, from the "shallow
cove" (_i.e._, a pretended sailor in distress), to the "highflier"
(_i.e._, a begging-letter impostor). The gipsy man and his wife who kept
the den professed to be very fond of the tracts, but a man who did the
"religious dodge" told the giver that they were saved up and sold to
such as himself at twopence a dozen, for village and roadside begging.
The landlord got into trouble with the police, and to put them off the
scent he for several months let the upper rooms in the regular way. This
accounts for the circumstance that the visitor did not know that the top
back had been occupied by a family for five or six weeks. Thinking that
lodgers were there, he, one dark November afternoon, made his way to
that part of the house. In reply to his knock, the door was opened by a
woman who was partly intoxicated, and, whose appearance denoted that she
sifted upon the dust-heaps. She refused the tract which was offered upon
the ground that "it was no good to eat;" but when told of the "true
Bread," she opened the door wider, and looking toward a bundle of rags,
said, "You can talk to my girl as is very bad, as I'm going out," and
then she staggered downstairs.
The visitor approached the rags, upon which lay a little girl of eleven
years. She partly raised herself, as if to look at the stranger, and
then sunk back as though exhausted with the effort. "I have come to talk
to you about Jesus, and to pray with you," said the Missionary, taking
hold of her emaciated hand, and then he paused to give the little
sufferer time to recover from the excitement of his presence, and to
glance round the room. It was a wretched dwelling; filthy in the
extreme; with scarcely a vestige of furniture, unless the two boxes
which served for seats, and the planks placed across pieces of wood,
which served for a table, could be dignified by that name. In one corner
was a pile of old kettles without spouts, and saucepans without handles
and lids. In the fireplace, which was without a fender and filled with
ashes, was a tinker's hand-fire--a saucepan with round holes at the side
and wire handle. In different parts of the room were little heaps of
dirty rags, bottles, and greasepots. All this showed that the occupant
was a travelling tinker, who had been stopped on his travels by the
illness of the child, and that his wife had obtained work upon a
dust-heap, from which she brought worn-out tinware for her husband to
"doctor up" and re-sell to the poor. Turning toward the child, the
visitor inquired how long she had lived there, and if she could say the
Lord's Prayer. In reply, the child, panting at intervals for breath, in
a low, hollow tone, said, "For four or five Sundays, sir, I was ill, and
we had to sleep under a hedge, which made me worse; and then we tramped
on here, and the doctor has been to see me, and says he can't do much
for me, as I am getting thin and can't eat;" and then raising herself
upon her arm, she continued, her eyes lighting up with a supernatural
brightness, "I can't say all that prayer, but I can the pretty hymn
which is in the book under my head. I can't read, but I know it's
there." And then the peach colour of her cheek deepened as she opened
the "penny hymn-book," and repeated the first two verses of the hymn:
"'Come, let us join our cheerful songs
With angels round the throne.'"
Then she threw herself back as though exhausted, but her face assumed an
expression of intense happiness. After a few minutes the question was
asked, "And how did you learn that hymn?" "A little girl at the tramps'
lodging, at Ipswich," she replied, "went to Sunday-school, and took me
with her for three Sundays: the lady saw I was ill, and kissed me, and
told me how to say that hymn, and it makes me so happy. And I am going
to Him soon," she whispered, gazing up with evident delight. "You must
not talk any more, dear," said the visitor, "but I will now pray to
Jesus, to whom the angels in heaven are singing, and ask Him to make you
very good now, and then to take you to be with Him in glory." "Ask
_Him_," whispered the child, "to make father and mother good: they get
drunk and frighten me so, and say such wicked words." The request was
complied with, and He who has told His disciples to "ask that they may
receive," was petitioned, in simple language but in earnest prayer, to
bless the child and to save the parents.
A few necessaries were that evening sent for the child; and two days
after the Missionary again ascended that dark staircase: he did so with
pleasure, because he felt that in that dismal room there was a little
one who loved the Saviour, and who would soon be called to His presence
and personally blessed by Him. The door was opened by the mother, who
burst into tears and turned away; upon glancing toward the bed of rags,
the visitor was startled at seeing a small elm coffin in its place, and
inquired when the child died. "Late in the night when you were here,"
the mother replied, sobbing. "She was in great pain, and sat up in the
bed and took out her little book, and said the hymn she was so fond of--
'Come, let us join our cheerful songs
With angels round the throne;'
and then her cough came on, and she fell back in the bed and died like a
lamb." While they were speaking, the father, a low-looking tramp, came
in; and the Missionary told them of the child's request that he would
pray for them that they might be made good. Both of them cried with
intense feeling, and then they knelt beside that little coffin, while
prayer, deep earnest prayer, was offered for their salvation. That
evening, and for several months after, they attended the meeting in the
Widow's room, and before they left the place for a settled life, not a
tramp's, the man gave proof of his reformation, and the woman that she
had believed to the saving of her soul.
In that day when the Lord shall give to each of His servants according
as their work shall be, the lady who taught that beggar child a hymn
about His love and glory, and won her heart to Him with a kiss of
Christian charity, will in no wise lose her reward.
The Book in the Court.
ITS TRUTH.
"'Well, lad!' he said, 'I've flung my life away,
And now must give the reckoning in, they say.'
I said, 'I hope, Sir, that you stand prepared
To meet the Judge, and 'bide by His award!'
'Prepared!' he said, 'Roger, my open eyes
Now look upon the past without disguise;
And I remember all the years gone by,
And all I've done, as 'twere but yesterday.
It is no use to urge me to repent;
I've lost my chance, and now must be content
To fare as others do,--so let that be:
But 'tis a dreadful word--Eternity!'
'Dear Sir,' I said, 'it is a dreadful word:
Lift up your heart and call upon the Lord.
Perhaps'--He started up impatiently,--
'I cannot call: so let that matter be!
I have no hope that I shall be forgiven;
I know a drunkard cannot go to heaven;
And as I stand upon destruction's brink,
I see I've sacrificed my soul for 'drink.'
Oh, what a fool I've been! but say no more;
My crazy bark will soon push off the shore.'"
_Mrs. Sewell._