A PRAISE MEETING--DEATH OF THE WIDOW--JOY OF THE BLESSED--OUT OF
THE PRIZE RING--A FAREWELL SPEECH--A FAGGER--A STRANGE
PREACHER--DUSTY AND THE FIDDLER--PRAYING IN THE CELL--INDIAN
GIRL--GENESA--INFIDEL SOCIETY DISSOLVED--WORKS FOLLOWING--THE
BANNER OF LOVE.
THE BOOK IN THE COURT:
ITS CERTAIN GOOD.
"My Word that goeth forth out of My mouth, it shall not return unto
Me void." ISA. lv. 11.
Time glided on pleasantly, as time always does when occupied with the
activities of the Christian life, and brought the Missionary to the
third anniversary of the day upon which he first entered Paradise Court.
As that had become a commemorative day of deep interest to many of the
inhabitants, their visitor had arranged with them to raise an Ebenezer
of praise. As he entered the Place with his old friend the
Superintendent, there were pleasant greetings on every hand. The
children ran in a flock to meet him; and as if to show the good they had
received, the eldest girl of the "translator," who three years before
had boasted that "his children knew nothing of superstition," held for
his inspection a reward-card which she had received at a Sunday-school.
Salvation had come to that man's room, and he rejoiced in it, and his
wife and family were made glad. The Court itself gave indications that
good influences had been at work there, as its general appearance was
cleaner, and window-sills were ornamented with flower-pots and boxes.
The gift of a few flowers had given pleasure to those of the poor who
had come from the country, and had served as texts for lessons upon the
value of pure air and cleanliness; while to many it was a discovery,
that though the atmosphere was foul and black, they might have a thing
of beauty and fragrance at their windows for part of the year. The
appearance of the people was much the same, as all looked poor, and some
had tattered clothes; but the police knew that rows had almost ceased,
and that there was less depravity and law-breaking than formerly; and
better still, the visitor knew that the restoring influence of grace had
upraised some of the families, as he could make his way to rooms in
which the Bible was valued, and in which its teaching had led to saving
faith and holy living. On Sunday morning, as usual, women went to
market, and returned with aprons full of provisions; but these were not
so numerous as formerly, and those who did so showed their sense of
wrong-doing by making excuse for their conduct. A disposition for
hearing the truth had been created, as the Widow's room had long become
too small, and the meeting had to be removed to double rooms in a street
just by. These proofs of blessing had led to arrangements for a
praise-meeting in the Widow's room at twelve o'clock, and it was filled
with men and women who had managed to spend part of the dinner hour in
holy exercise. The hymn, "Praise ye the Lord, 'tis good to raise," was
sung; the hundred and forty-fifth Psalm was read, with a short comment
upon the words, "All Thy works shall praise Thee, O Lord, and Thy saints
shall bless Thee;" and then the language of praise ascended from that
poor Court as incense to the throne of heavenly grace. In the evening a
tea was given in the meeting-room to the forty persons who usually
attended. Two hours were spent in social intercourse, and two in
hymn-singing, prayer, and the hearing of suitable addresses. The
Wesleyan and Independent ministers took part in the proceedings; and
when the Rector, who had joined the party, pronounced the Benediction,
the people separated, praising and blessing God.
There was only one thing which cast a shade over the happy meeting, and
that was the state of the Widow's health. All noticed that while her
happiness was intense, her words were few; and there were grave shakings
of the head, and anxious remarks about her not having been like herself
for some time past. This was evident when, as usual, upon the following
Wednesday she took dinner with the Missionary. This arrangement had been
made out of consideration to her, and in order that they might consult
together about the details of the work. That hour of conference with his
wife and the Widow was of importance, as a knowledge of individual
character (so valuable to those who would be wise in soul-winning) was
obtained, and plans of action arranged. Upon her way back to the Court
she was silent, and leant heavily upon the arm of her friend. On the
following Wednesday she was unable to leave her room, so part of the
evening was spent with her in sweet converse about the covenant which is
ordered in all things and sure. At parting she said softly, "I am so
happy, and so close to heaven that a _waft_ would take me in;" and then
after a pause she added, "To see Jesus: the fairest among ten thousand!"
After this she grew more feeble; but when her friend called in one
evening she seemed better, though drowsy. He therefore offered up a
short prayer and left. Early in the morning two women came in haste to
his house, to say that the Widow was dead. He hurried back with them,
and found the Place in a state of commotion. The people were standing in
groups, and round the door was a company of weeping women. He passed
them, and with soft tread entered the chamber of death, as he felt the
solemn influence which pervaded the room. In the stillness of the night
the angels had been there, and had taken a redeemed soul back with them
into the everlasting habitations of the blessed. The shutters had been
partly opened, and a gleam of light was thrown upon the bed, where lay,
as though prepared for burial, the remains of the soldier's widow.
Taking the icy-cold hand affectionately in his, he gazed into the face,
which appeared to be set in calm sleep, and felt that no pains of death
had been permitted to distress the holy dying of the aged saint. Upon
the table lay the open Bible, with her spectacles upon a page of the
Psalms, and near them her quarterly ticket, with "Ruth Peters" written
upon it. The doctor, who had seen her the day before, said that an
inquest would not be necessary, as he could give a proper certificate;
the remains were therefore left in the care of several women, who loved
her as a mother.
The same kind hand which had supplied the needs of the Widow, provided a
suitable funeral. Ah, and that was an honourable burial, for she was
carried to the grave by six men of the Court, who left their work for
the purpose; and as the coffin was borne through the Place, followed by
several of the neighbours, with the Missionary as chief mourner, the
people made great lamentation over her. And when the earth was dropped
into the grave, with the solemn utterance, "Earth to earth, ashes to
ashes, dust to dust," all felt that at the resurrection of the just
that body would be raised and made like unto Christ's glorious body.
The Missionary hastened from the funeral to meet the County Member, as
he had arranged that evening to visit the district. The honourable
gentleman had been so pressed to place boys into "Homes," that he
decided to see the people for whom he was asked to do so much. In the
evening, when they entered the Court, there was, for so crowded a place,
deep silence; and as they passed from room to room, they had to speak
words of comfort to the people who were sorrowing for the loss of their
friend. And they were sweet words of heavenly consolation which the
stranger uttered. As he left the Place he leant for a moment upon a post
at the entrance, and said thoughtfully, "I wish you had told me about
that Widow, as I should like to have known her." Soon after he sent the
Missionary a book in memory of his sainted wife ("Our Friends in
Heaven"), and wrote in it, "Not death, she said, but life, life, life,
eternity!" And when the days of his sojourn were accomplished, he with
like words crossed to the celestial side of the river. And may he not
know the Widow now? May it not be one of the joys of the heavenly state
to hold sweet converse with saints about whom we have only heard upon
earth? May it not indeed be an employment of enduring delight to be
continually enlarging our acquaintance,--to know and to be known of the
innumerable company of the redeemed?
The removal of the Widow was a felt loss, but the bereavement was the
means of leading several of the poor to yield themselves to God. The
worker had lost his right hand, and yet the work was made to prosper.
For several months the attendance at the meeting increased, though
there was a constant drafting away to the regular ministry. At one of
these meetings he took for exposition the speech of St. Paul to the
elders of the Church at Ephesus. At the close he referred for the second
time to the words, "Therefore watch, and remember that for the space of
three years I ceased not to warn every one night and day with tears;"
and after an effort gently to break the news, he said abruptly, "I am
about to leave you, as the Lord in His providence has made it plain that
He has important work for me to do elsewhere." This announcement brought
the meeting to a close, as the people left their seats and surrounded
him with expressions of real sorrow.
For some days after there was earnest visiting in the Court, as the
Missionary felt the responsibility of speaking to the people for the
last time; and as a proof of the power of domiciliary visitation in
overcoming opposition to the truth, not one person, from the beginning
to the end of the Place, uttered an offensive word; while many gave him
a hearty welcome and a tearful good-bye. Take for instance, the
"prize-fighter," who had not quite recovered from a successful
pugilistic encounter with a Birmingham man, for ten pounds a side, as
his face was bruised and discoloured, and his right arm disabled. He
received the visitor with what to him was a painful smile, and then in a
confidential manner said, "It tain't sir, as I 'em a-gettin soft, that
I've resoluted; but I haven't got over that backhander you gave me out
of that Book, as was, 'Will a man fight his Maker?' and the way you
closed in was stunnin; and says I to myself, I 'em knocked over the
ropes, and I'll let the whiskers grow, and take to costering; that's
summut, ain't it?" "The wearing of whiskers," was the reply, "will put
you out of the prize-ring; and you will find that there is more
happiness in getting an honest living with the blessing of Almighty God
upon you, than there can be in wearing the 'Champion Belt of England'
with His curse." "Haven't I wished for him to be out of the magic
circle," exclaimed his wretched, vulgar-looking wife, "as you see the
feeling is awful when your 'usband is going to be pitched into and
knocked to a mummy; and you must be a fighter's lawful wife to know the
feelin when it's a-goin on. If you drinks 'ard, why you can't leach 'im
and poultice 'im, as is a tender job: and if he's beat, you gets
nuffink; and when he beats, you treats ring pals and wagabons; and the
money it tain't no good, and it tain't Christian-like as you says; and
if you'll stick to him, though you are a-goin, I'll wade through seas of
blood for you, as the sayin is." Their friend smiled graciously at this
assurance, and then taking a seat, opened the Book, and read to them
about Him who was wounded for our transgressions and bruised for our
iniquities.
The day before leaving, the Missionary announced his intention of
bidding the people farewell at six o'clock next evening in the open
Court, and of then introducing his successor to them. As at the
appointed time they entered the Place, it was so densely packed that
they with difficulty pressed to the bend in the middle. A chair was
handed from a window, and as their friend stepped upon it the murmur of
voices burst into a loud cheer. Looking round, he saw an expression of
sorrow upon that mass of upturned faces, and near him stood the
reclaimed infidel, the fighting man, the chanter, Tom and Bess, and
others for whom he had a Christian affection. For a few moments he
remained silent with emotion, and then with faltering and afterwards
with firmer voice said, "I think, my good friends, that I have shaken
hands and said Good-bye to each of you in your rooms; but I have thought
it well that we should have a last meeting, and together ask our
heavenly Father to bless and to take care of us. The four years I have
gone in and out among you have been years of happiness; at first we did
not understand each other, but from the time you discovered that my one
object in life was to lead you to the Lord Jesus Christ that you might
be made good and happy, you have regarded me as your friend. Some of you
have believed to the saving of your souls. (A cry of "Bless the Lord.")
Let me, as your father in Christ, beseech of you to regard this Holy
Book as you do your necessary food,--to live lives of daily, constant
prayer, always looking to Jesus. There are others here who respect me as
the King's messenger, but who do not care for the message of a Saviour's
mercy, which I have delivered to them. You are going as fast as time can
carry you to the grave,--to hell: faster and faster from heaven. Listen
to my last words, as I shall meet you when the dead, small and great,
shall stand before the judgment seat of Christ. Turn from your evil
ways, from your drunken habits, your Sabbath breaking, your iniquities.
And in the name of Jesus, because He died upon the cross to save you,
ask Almighty God to pardon and to give you His Holy Spirit, that you may
be Christians indeed." And then raising his pocket Bible, and looking up
to heaven, he continued, "Let us all so live that we may meet in glory:
the Widow is there, and some out of this place have already followed
her. Let us hate sin, trust in the Saviour, and press on for the crown
of life." Here the emotion of the people became so great that several
exclaimed, "We will," and others "May the Lord have mercy upon us." The
speaker then said, "I will now introduce your new Missionary, by asking
him to read something to us out of the good old Book; you will then see
him and hear his voice: when he has done, I will offer prayer; after
that he will stand in my place to you. Receive him as one sent from God,
to show unto you the way of eternal life, and prove your love to me by
treating him as my friend."
The stranger then took his place upon the chair, and read the hundred
and third psalm, after which the old friend rose to offer the parting
prayer. As the words, "Let us pray," rung through the Court, battered
hats and fur caps were removed, so all the men stood uncovered, and
several of the women knelt down; while at the windows and in the crowd,
many covered their faces with their hands. The prayer was short but
earnest. At its close the word "Amen" was uttered so loud and clear,
that it seemed to come from a church congregation, rather than from that
strange gathering of worshippers; and after the Benediction the word was
uttered with still deeper feeling; and then, amidst the tears, the
thanks, and blessings of the people, and humbled before God, because of
the mission blessings received, the man with the Book passed out of
Paradise Court.
He did not, however, and has not to this day, lost interest in the
people. At intervals he visited in the place with the Missionary, but on
each occasion found some of his old friends gone, and at length, his
acquaintance there became very small. Among those who remained, was
drunken (now sober) Sammy. He became a member of the Baptist chapel,
and never broke his pledge. His attendance at the means of grace and at
temperance meetings was regular, and he won the respect of Church
members and abstaining companions. When the friend who had stopped him
in the road to ruin called, he treated him with a respect approaching to
reverence. He died at the age of seventy, after a short illness, in
which he gave evidence of meetness for heaven.
Persons who have left the Court, have frequently been met with in the
streets and elsewhere, and several remarkable proofs of good were in
this way brought to light; as, for instance, in the case of a little
deformed man of uncertain age, strange expression of countenance, and
rather weak intellect, who shared a back attic with a crossing sweeper,
and paid one shilling a week rent. He called himself a "fagger," and
lived as quite a number of men do, by searching the streets of London by
night and at early morning for lost money and property. These "faggers,"
may be seen walking at a steady pace, or trotting gently, glancing keen
looks along the road and pavement. They always pause at corners where
omnibuses stop; at the doors of theatres and other likely places. In the
season they all make for the "Haymarket," as the place where valuables
such as rings may be found, and when the "cafés" close, they make for
home, searching as they go.
Our "fagger," as a child of the night, was rarely seen by day. He was
indeed quite a recluse, as he shrunk from the derision to which his
unsightly appearance subjected him from the children and his ignorant
neighbours. So they only saw him when he shuffled out at night, or
trotted back early in the morning. He for months refused the Missionary
admission to the room, and was angry when his landlord, the sweeper,
insisted upon receiving the visits, and he used on these occasions to
seat himself upon his stool in the corner with a sulky expression of
face. After a time his confidence was obtained, and it was then
discovered that the poor simple man was utterly ignorant of saving
truth. He had entered upon life as a "City Arab," could not read, had
never been into a place of worship, and had not even heard the name of
the Saviour. Little did the sower think, as the seed of the kingdom fell
so freely from his hand, that it was to find good ground in the heart of
the poor "fagger." He became deeply interested in the readings from the
Bible, and at the farewell visit he drew his stool nearer, and his eyes
brightened as the sweeper and himself listened to St. John's narrative
of the crucifixion.
Nearly a year had passed after this visit when a group of eight or ten
persons assembled in Oxford Circus. It was long after midnight, and
bitterly cold. The Missionary who was passing, approached, and two
policemen to whom he was known, informed him that the well-dressed man
who lay upon the kerb, with a frightful gash upon the forehead, was in
liquor, and had fallen against the lamp-post. As the man was stunned, if
not seriously injured, the police were advised to take him to the
hospital, and one of them left to get a stretcher for that purpose. By
this time a number of depraved men and women had gathered round, some of
whom uttered ribald jokes, one woman suggesting "that as the gent was
dead, they had better search his pockets for money, with which to drink
to his memory." "And if dead," exclaimed the Missionary in a voice so
loud and solemn that the people were startled: "if dead, his eternal
state is fixed; the day of mercy over; and there is a fearful meeting
with the Judge of heaven and earth." For a few moments there was
silence, when a man near the lamp said, "He knows nothing about it, as
no one ever came back from the other world to tell us." Before a reply
could be given, an odd-looking little man who had pressed into the
circle, exclaimed, "He does know: he's got it in his Book. They nailed
Jesus to the cross, they did; He got out of the grave, He did; He's
alive a savin' us, He is; it's in the gent's Book, it is: he knows it;"
and then the little "fagger," for it was he, trotted away, as if
astonished at himself. "That poor man is right," said the Missionary,
"The Lord Jesus is alive to save sinners." No more could be said, as the
policeman arrived with the stretcher, and as they bore the injured man
away, some of the crowd followed, but many who were sinners remained to
hear the Gospel more fully.
The Missionary followed in the direction the "fagger" had taken, and
found him in Pall Mall. They stood for some time under the colonnade of
the opera house, and there the man of feeble intellect called Jesus,
Lord, and repeated the simple prayer he used. A few months after this he
was removed to the infirmary, in abject poverty and increased mental
weakness. At times, however, he used to sit in Poverty Square (a yard in
the workhouse), muttering to himself the one great truth he had
grasped,--that the crucified Jesus was a living Saviour; and while a ray
of reason remained this gave him comfort. When last heard of his mind
had entirely gone, but he was for years a living proof that the grand
truth of salvation can be grasped by the feeblest as well as by the
mightiest intellect.
The "niggers" were met with under very different circumstances. Several
summers after the visit to their dressing-room and the rescue of "Black
Poll," their friend was walking upon the sands at Broadstairs in company
with three ladies. They stopped to listen to an entertainment which some
"niggers," who had formed themselves into a circle, were about to give.
As he knew them, and did not care that they should then recognise him,
he kept at the back of the assembled listeners. Towards the close, there
was a peculiar "ogling" between the "artistes," and a looking in one
direction, and then they brought their entertainment to a sudden close;
and to the surprise of the company, and the horror of the three ladies
(who slipped off), they fairly rushed toward their friend, and in the
most demonstrative manner owned him as such. "I has bin to see Poll,"
exclaimed Dusty, "and she's growed a wapper, and took to hedecation, as
is her nature. And she writ me a letter, and if I sees yer honour arter
dark I'll bring it; and now the ladies are out we picks up fourpennies
and sixpennies, and when they goes in the tother sort comes out, an' we
only gets browns." For the time it was a relief to be rid of them, so an
appointment was made upon the sands at ten o'clock that night. The men,
who had left their instruments behind them, were waiting, and a
strangely pleasant hour was spent with them. As they stood at the edge,
or rather followed the receding tide, the moon casting her soft light
upon the rippling waves, the "niggers" listened, and in their way
conversed about truths which concerned their salvation. The confidential
utterance of the fiddler, will show the influence of Christian effort
with such people. "You sees, sir," he said, "that this ain't a religious
sort of business, but I can't be no other but a 'nigger,' and I has a
wife an' three youngsters, what are always a-hopening of their mouths
and must have summut to put into 'em. But I has given up getting drunk
and cursing as I used, and wheresomever I bees on Sunday, I slips in to
hear religion preached, if there ain't nuffin of that ere sort
a-going-on in the open, as I prefers."
The presence of the "niggers" reminds us of their near neighbour in
London, the convict's widow, and we will therefore finish her little
history. Every six months, for nearly five years, her son at the convict
establishment sent a letter to his teacher. At the end of that time the
chaplain wrote to say that he was to be discharged with a
ticket-of-leave, as his conduct had been very good. As it was thought
well to keep him from his mother, a room was taken for him near to his
teacher, as he never ceased to call him. His case was mentioned to a
Christian man, a builder, who promised when his hair was grown to give
him work, and to keep the secret of his antecedents from others. Upon
his discharge the convict came direct to his friend's house, where his
mother was ready to receive him; and the meeting was most affecting, as
she hugged and kissed her son, who had grown a big man, as though he had
been a child. When in quiet conversation that evening, the convict spoke
with feeling of the reading upon the housetop, and added, "That night in
the police cell I laid upon my face for several hours, sobbing and
praying for mercy. I knew that I had done wrong, and didn't fear the
punishment; all I wanted was God's pardon, and I believe that He did
forgive me the next evening, as I lay praying in the cell at the
detention house, for I then felt that Jesus was my Saviour, and it was
the happiest evening of my life. At Dartmoor I have borne my punishment
in the spirit of prayer, and I am glad of my discharge that I may show
forth the praise of the Saviour." A few Sundays after, when his hair was
sufficiently grown for him to mix with others, he was introduced to a
branch of the Young Men's Christian Association, of which he became a
member. He went to his work, and did well until the time of his full
discharge. Soon after this the fact of his being a returned convict
became known to his fellow-workmen and Christian friends: this caused
him constant and bitter annoyance. One evening he came to his "teacher,"
and said, "You know, sir, that I have desired to be a soldier, and would
have enlisted if I had not committed that last crime. As all is known
about me, I can't stop at the builder's, and don't know where to go; so
I think that I shall take the Queen's shilling, as I can be as good a
Christian in the army as out of it." He acted on this resolution, and
enlisted into a regiment then serving in India. He wrote several letters
to his mother and teacher, telling them that he was very happy in his
new calling, and that he had joined a soldiers' prayer-meeting, and
taken part in its proceedings. One evening the following winter the
mother came to the house of the teacher in a most pitiable condition. As
she stood at the door without bonnet or shawl, and partly covered with
snow, her face bore an expression of abject misery. In her hand she held
a letter, and the big tears stood in her eyes. It was evident that her
grief was too deep for utterance, so her friend took the letter from her
hand, and glancing through it found that it was from the colour-sergeant
of the regiment, to say "that her son, his comrade and Christian friend,
had died of fever, after four days' illness, and that his end was
perfect peace." The poor stricken one was taken into the kitchen and
seated before the fire, a cup of tea being made for her. When warmed and
refreshed, her friend spoke comforting words, and then they sought the
soothing influence of prayer. An hour after she went out into the cold
and snow much comforted, and muttering to herself about her "Eddy" and
heaven. From that time her frame bowed, her hearing became heavy, and
her health gradually gave way. At times she was an annoyance to her
friend, as he had evidently taken the place of her son in her
affections. Strange-looking object as she was, she used to call upon him
at most unseasonable times. As her health failed these visits became
less frequent, and in her last illness they were returned. Before her
death, which was very recent, the patient labourer was rewarded for his
efforts of many years to lead her to the Saviour, as she clung to Him
with all the fervour of a simple faith. To the last she kept her foolish
oath, for she did not for thirty years wear either bonnet or shawl.
"Saved in a London Court, and gathered into the Heavenly Mansions from
India," is the epitome of the young convict's spiritual history: and as
if to illustrate the fact that London is the great heart of the world,
an Indian who was met with in that very Court, was drawn, gave the
life-look to the Uplifted One, and from the empire city joined the
"great multitude of all nations, and kindred, and people, and tongues."
It thus occurred,--
Upon his entering the Court one morning, the Missionary noticed a little
Indian girl, who was surrounded by a number of other children. She was
about eight years of age, of dark yellow complexion, with jet black
hair, which hung over her shoulders, and upon her wrists were thick
silver bracelets. Upon questioning her, the child with peculiar accent,
said that she came with her parents from Bombay; that her father was a
cook, and had come to London to make pickles at a large shop; and that
they had come to live in the Court until her father and mother got to
work. He went to the room with the child, and there saw the father, a
pure Indian, dressed like a Lascar. There was only a hammock-like
mattress, and some ship's utensils in the room. Upon the mantel-shelf
were many bottles of curry powder, and a small idol of white ivory,
which seemed to represent a boy with the head of an elephant. As the
Visitor started a conversation about the business, he became
communicative, and stated that he was a native of Hyderabad, but had
lived for many years in Bombay, where he became cook to a British sahib,
and afterwards was employed to make pickles for export to England. He
was reluctant to talk about religion, but said that Vishnu and Ganesa
were great and powerful gods; that he had married a half-caste woman,
whose mother was a Mohammedan, and whose father was an English sailor,
and now kept a lodging-house for sailors at Bombay; that the bracelets
upon the wrists of his child were made of silver coins which bore the
image of his mother's god, and she had placed them on the child when she
was an infant. He added, "that he thought his wife was a Christian, but
that she had respect to Ganesa, and that he did not like his child to be
a Christian, as they got drunk and broke up the gods." When the one
_Great God_ was mentioned he looked anxiously towards his idol, as
though he feared that it would be injured or taken from him; and then
he muttered so loudly in a strange tongue, that the visitor thought it
well to leave.
A few days after the Missionary was told that the Indian was ill, and he
at once went in to see him. He found him so bad, that he went out and
fetched a medical friend, whose prescription gave immediate relief. That
evening the heathen listened for the first time to a simple statement
concerning Jehovah; His works, His mercy, and the atonement accomplished
at Jerusalem for the sin of the world. As he was worse next morning, his
friend obtained an indoor letter for the Middlesex Hospital, and removed
him there in a cab. He remained under treatment for nearly two months,
during which time he was visited thrice a week, and thoroughly
instructed in the Christian faith. When discharged he did not return to
the Court in which he had lived only a fortnight, as his wife had
arrived, and had taken a room near some of their country people in Drury
Lane. As he expressed contempt for idols, and a desire for salvation, he
was introduced to the Missionary of the district, who paid him great
attention, and brought several clergymen to instruct him. One day he ran
after his old friend, whom he saw in Holborn, and exclaimed, "Oh, sahib,
God in heaven is so great, and Jesus is our Saviour here!" This
confession gave joy to his friend, who returned with him to his lodging,
and was pleased to find that the Indian and his wife had become regular
in their attendance at church. After a conversation about baptism, the
Missionary took hold of the bracelet of their little girl, who from the
time he entered the room had sat with her hand in his, and said, "These
heathenish ornaments ought not to remain upon the wrists of your child,
now that you are Christians." "Take them off, sahib," replied the
father: "they are much money, and a present from my heart to you." A few
days after the Missionary and his wife drew them open with a towel, and
he has them now among other precious memorials of Christian work.
Arrangements had been made for the baptism of the Indian, when he was
taken suddenly ill; that sacrament was however administered by a curate
of St. Giles' Church. He lived some months after this in great
suffering, but he rejoiced in God his Saviour, and fell asleep in Him.
As the mother was poor, with two younger children, and as the girl was
exposed to much evil in that low neighbourhood, the Missionary placed
her in a "rescue Home." She grew up a pleasant Christian girl, and went
to service. When she last called upon her friend, all was well with her.
The young convert from infidelity, like others who had received
spiritual good, left the place for more respectable lodgings. He became
diligent in his attendance upon the means of grace, and by application
to his trade and a good use of his leisure, he qualified himself for a
better position. He formed a class of young men, who styled themselves
"The Bible Defence Club," of which the Missionary became president. They
met weekly to read and converse upon the evidences, and by arrangement
took part in the infidel discussions. As the result, several leading
sceptics became converted, and the opinions of the working men of the
neighbourhood were so influenced, that the infidel club broke up, and
their discussion "forum" became so thinly attended that it also came to
an end. This was a great victory and cause for gratitude. The young
convert had an uncle who was manager of a large firm in one of the
midland towns; he was so pleased with his nephew's letters, that he
offered him employment, which was gladly accepted. He rose rapidly, and
a few years after, when he came to London on the business of the firm,
he had become so much the gentleman that his friend scarcely knew him.
Soon after his appointment as manager of a "department" he married a
Christian woman, but he continued to sing in the Church choir, and to
teach in the Sunday-school.
These abiding cases have given joy to the Christian worker, and helped
to sustain him in still more onerous duties. They are, however, few when
compared with the disappointments. At the time of the revival in the
Court there was much blossom, as the inquiry for salvation was general;
but when fruit was sought for, it was plain that a spiritual blight had
passed over the place, destroying much good. The "omnibus-washer," for
instance, became confirmed in infidelity, resisted every good influence,
and died in a hopeless state; his wife became a drunkard, and his eldest
children came to ruin. The "'strology woman" prospered upon the wages of
iniquity, and became queen of a London den. Besides these, the
Missionary used frequently to meet with those of whose salvation he once
had hope, standing in the way of sinners, and sitting in the seat of the
scornful. He has indeed met with bitter opposition from several over
whom he once had spiritual influence. Perhaps in so real a conflict as
this with the powers of darkness, such failures are to be expected;
they, however, have a humbling tendency, and lead to simple resting upon
the promises, as they prove that the instrument by itself is of little
worth,--that souls are won, not by might, nor by power, but by the
Spirit of the Lord. The one consolation, however, in these
discouragements, is the fact that we never know when the Word which has
been faithfully spoken will germinate. It may be years after, and in the
day of the Lord many a joyous surprise may be experienced at finding
unknown cases in which grace has triumphed.
Even here the "works following" past labours are causes of joy, and to
complete this narrative three shall be recorded.
When he first entered the Place, the Missionary was resisted by a
besotted man and his wife. He was deputy potman, or rather "hanger-on"
at a gin bar, in which he used to stand for many hours daily. His wife
did cleaning and odd jobs for the lower class of tradespeople, and was
in dissipation a fit companion for her husband. He was taken ill, and
the long-sought-for opportunity to read and reason with them was
obtained; the poor man professed penitence, sank rapidly, and died. In
her early widowhood the woman sought and found mercy. She left the
Court, became a communicant, and has ever since been regular in her
attendance at the Lord's table. She is now of advanced growth in grace,
and occasionally calls upon her old friend, and they have sweet converse
together about matters concerning the kingdom of heaven.
Something was gained for the right when the little Frenchman, who lived
at No. 10, became subdued and attentive. Since his escape from Paris,
twelve years before, he had taken up his abode in the "Grove," and
forgetting his own tongue, he had learned to speak the slang language of
the Court "like a native." He lived by polishing cheap furniture, and he
was regarded by many of his neighbours as an amusing acquaintance. His
opinions and his life were bad, as he expressed hatred toward ministers
and professors of religion, and his tongue was so corrupt that some of
the people (sunk as they were in ignorance and sin) avoided him. When
met with by himself he was quietly and patiently instructed in the
doctrines of the pure religion; but when met with among others he was
put upon the defence of his low infidel sayings and his wrong living. He
at length used to fix his gaze upon the Bible, when taken from the
side-pocket, and listened as one who felt its power. He was once
arrested by the beatitudes, and asked several times to have them read to
him. All we can say more about him is that his bad influence became
neutralized, and that his soul received some rays from the light of the
revealed word.
The other is only part of a narrative, as it concerns our amusing
acquaintance, "Black Poll." At first her conduct in the "Home" was wild
and unruly, but as the civilizing process went on, she proved the truth
of that saying of the ancients that "the wildest colts make the best
horses, if only they are properly broke in." She was properly broke in,
and developed a fine character. Quick in learning and diligent in work,
she became a favourite with the ladies and the matron. She was of
pleasant countenance and of marked neatness in her dress, so there was
no difficulty in providing for her after she had been nearly four years
in the "Home." She was received into a good family as under-nurse, and
did extremely well, being much valued by her mistress and loved by the
children. Unhappily for her, "Uncle Dusty" regarded her with enduring
affection; upon obtaining her address, he stopped one evening with his
company before the mansion where she lived, and told the footman that
"he knowed 'Poll' lived there, as was a credit to him, becos he jist
made a woman on her by taking her out of the workus." The family were
annoyed, and the girl felt degraded before her fellow-servants, and came
next day to consult with the friend who had rescued her. As she had
thought of emigrating to Canada with other young people for whom kind
arrangements had been made, she was advised to do so. Upon arriving in
the colony she obtained a good situation, and at intervals of time sent
many pleasant and thankful letters to her "Home" friends in London. The
last of these was to him who has in the providence of God wrought out so
great a deliverance for her. In it she informed him that she was about
to be married to a young man with good prospects, and concluded with
these touching words: "When, sir, you met me on the stairs God placed
his banner over me, and ever since it has been love, and I shall always
be your grateful girl, M. W."
Yes; the banner of a Saviour's love was placed over her, and over the
old Court, when the Christians of Tunbridge Wells sent a messenger of
the Cross to its people; and that banner of crimson hue still floats
over them, and the restoring work goes on, as the improved condition of
the place and people clearly testify. There are, however, in that
neighbourhood of Lisson Grove, though situate in the western part of the
capital of Christian England, a vast multitude who are uninfluenced by
the law of the spirit of life in Christ Jesus, and many of whom are
deeply sunk in ignorance and sin. Ten missionary districts are
unvisited, though each contains upwards of two thousand precious souls.
Christian tradesman of the Edgeware Road, who are well acquainted with
the spiritual necessities of the "Grove," have formed themselves into a
committee to provide for three of those districts. They need help. The
writer,[1] who is responsible for the support and extension of
missionary work in this part of London, will gladly receive
communications concerning giving and receiving. He is persuaded that
many who read this narrative will gladly share in the joy of conveying
the Gospel to this multitude of precious souls; that many will help to
raise the banner of love over these acres of habitations so thickly
peopled with the home heathen; that a blessing may rest upon our nation
by an increase of its people who love righteousness, and who can enter
with personal zest into the sweet language of the poet Weitzel:--
"Oh, blest the land: the city blest,
Where Christ the ruler is confest!
Oh, happy hearts and happy homes.
To whom this King in triumph comes."
[1] J. M. W., London City Mission, Bridewell Place, E.C.
The Book in the Bars:
ITS LIGHT.
"Amazed and sore perplexed he stood,
The sweat streamed off his rugged brow;
Like midnight wanderer in a wood,
More hopeless still his prospects grow.
"The day wore on, he marked it not,
He felt not that his cheeks were wet;
He saw himself a drunken sot,
Bound fast within the devil's net.
"He groaned beneath his heavy load:
At last a bitter cry there came,--
'Be merciful to me, oh God,
For I a wretched sinner am!'"
_Mrs. Sewell._