THE CLOCK GOING WRONG--MEN OF THE FANCY--THE RAT-PIT MAN--A CHILD
ON THE BARREL--TICKET OF LEAVE MAN--A ROUGH--A DRUNKARD'S HOME--A
FALL AND RISE.
THE BOOK IN THE BARS:
ITS SPIRITUAL POWER.
"So then faith cometh by hearing, and hearing by the Word of God."
ROM. x. 17.
The following advertisement, which appeared in several of the daily
newspapers, induced the Missionary to pay a farewell visit to the
landlord and bar-servants:--
"_Gin Palace_ for sale, in a good working and gin-drinking
neighbourhood; doing £240 a week over the bar: elegant and substantial
fittings. Terms moderate. Immediate possession," etc.
With this farewell purpose, the Christian visitor entered the "bottle
department" early upon the following Sunday evening, but found the place
so filled with customers that neither the landlord nor bar-men had a
moment to spare. He therefore simply shook hands with them, and arranged
to call in during the quiet hours of the following afternoon, and then
commenced evangelizing work among the people.
Three high partitions divided the bar into four compartments; and, as is
usual, there were separate doors to each, so that the crowds of
customers could not see each other, though the noise of their converse
and disputes produced a war of words, and rendered quiet conversation
difficult. One would have thought that the private or "bottle
department" would have been the easiest to visit, as its name seemed to
invite the respectable order of drinkers. To some extent this was the
case, but a jury of bar-men would certainly agree in the opinion that
this sly part of the house, into which so many well-dressed persons slip
for their drams, is the most lucrative and usually the most crowded.
Only a few weeks before, the visitor was standing with a young man in a
similar compartment, when seven women, wives of working men, entered,
and called for a quart of gin with ale glasses. They were laughing
heartily at what they considered a happy thought of one of their
companions,--the clubbing together for the purpose of ordering so large
a quantity of spirits: they were much disconcerted at the withering
rebuke they met with.
Upon the evening of our visit, eight or ten men and women were present.
One of these, a respectable tradesman, rejected a tract with the remark,
"I don't want your religious nonsense, as I do the thing that's right
between man and man; and if I didn't I would not be interfered with by
other people in religious matters, as I know what is right, and could do
it." "The clock there is going wrong," replied the visitor, looking
towards that very ornamental object, "and because it's out of repair, it
does not answer the purpose for which it was made, as it is hours too
slow. Now the landlord will not attempt to repair it himself, neither
will he give it to a grocer or a bricklayer for that purpose: he will no
doubt send it to the man who made it,--to a clockmaker who understands
its mechanism; he will clean and repair it, and then the hands will go
right. Well, it's just so with us men: when we do wrong it proves that
we are unclean inside, and out of repair, and it is no good trying to
set ourselves right, for we can't do it; or to get other people to
tinker at us, as they are sure to make us worse. Our proper course of
action is to approach our Almighty Maker, with the prayer, 'Create in me
a clean heart, oh God, and renew a right spirit within me.' When this is
done, we go right, and glorify God in our bodies and our spirits, which
are His." After a few words about the Fountain opened for sin and
uncleanness, the speaker passed out, leaving the people with their eyes
fixed upon the clock, and their thoughts upon the Saviour.
In the next compartment about sixteen working men had assembled, all of
whom were sober. Several were annoyed, as one of them said, at "being
tackled in such a place as that about religion." "Why, you are all in
the building trade," exclaimed the intruder, "and if you listen to the
words I repeat, and do them, you shall be likened to wise men who built
a house upon a rock: 'And the rain descended, and the winds blew, and
beat upon that house; and it fell not: for it was founded upon a rock.'"
As the attention of the men was arrested by the parable, it was repeated
to the end; and then, taking the Bible from his pocket, the reader
observed, "These are not my words: they were spoken by the Lord Jesus
Christ." "I knows a lot of the Bible," said one of the men, "and He
never talked like that." "I've heard it before," retorted a companion,
"and it's there." "Yes: I am right," replied the man with the Book; and
then, leaning his back against the bar, he read the parable through, in
a clear, expressive tone. He then looked up, and said kindly, "You are
not building on this rock; if you were you would be in the house of God,
instead of this place."
"That's right!" exclaimed several, and three of them followed him into
the street. "I'll go next Sunday," said a carpenter. "And so will I,"
answered his companion, a smith. "And I will meet you at this corner and
go with you," said the reader. This arrangement was confirmed with
hand-shaking; and the men went thoughtfully towards their homes, the
Missionary entering the next compartment.
In this several groups of persons were standing together, those near the
door being sweeps, who, in honour of the day, were partly washed. One of
them, a young man, said that his mother was ill and wanted some one to
pray with her. The visitor took down the address and promised to call.
While doing so his attention was directed to several men of the "fancy,"
who were in loud conversation about the difficulties of their calling.
They were attired in dirty fustians, with gaudy cotton handkerchiefs
round their necks, and caps which made their foreheads appear
"villanously low." One of them held a bull-dog by a chain, and several
puppies were peeping out of the side pockets of his coat. He was
evidently the important man of the group, as his companions were
listening with respect to his grievances, which he expressed in the
following way: "This 'ere draining of London will be the ruin of us,
that it will. Why look 'ere: I've been all this blessed day a-trying to
get six dozen of rats, and I has only got two dozen; and it's ruination
the price of them is. I never grumbles at buying them at fourpence each
when they are fat and lively like that, I doesn't, as it's a fair price;
but it's enough to make a chap go rampstairing when he has to tip a bob
each, or eleven shillings a dozen for them, as I did this afternoon; and
it's this draining of London does it, as they be slushed away. And then
last week I had a misfortune. I went out with my pal, as is ratcatcher
to the Queen, for two days' catchin' about Windsor, and I left three
dozen in the low pit. Well, when I comes back, my misses, as as bin
queer, said, 'Oh dear me, I forgot to feed the rats!' So I went off, as
I knowed how it 'ed be. When I looked in it a dozen had gone, and they
was a-eating ever-so-many of one another; so I chucked in the stuff as
had been mixed up for 'em, and there was an end of their barbarities, as
rats are good-natured like when they has plenty of grub; but when the
price is up it is, as I say, ruination."
"And so you have been all day trying to buy rats, have you? a pretty way
to be sure for a man to spend his Sunday," observed the Missionary, as
he turned towards the man, and caressed a pretty little spaniel whose
head was resting upon the flap of his pocket.
"I has," was the sharp reply: "and I makes no profession of religion, so
it's no harm; like them saints, one of which I knows as cheats you
through thick and thin; so I does the correct thing, and snaps my
finger, and says I, None of your religion for me."
"I see how it is," rejoined the visitor. "You have met with an imitation
Christian, a counterfeit, as we call bad money, and for that reason you
will not be a real Christian. Is that what you mean? If so, it is like
saying, 'A man passed a bad shilling upon me, so I never mean to take a
good one.'"
"That's a puzzler," replied the man, thoughtfully; "as I knows what good
Christians are, as was my father and mother, as was Welsh, like me.
They did the right thing by me; but I 'erd of people a-gettin' on in
London, so I ran away from them, and begged and stumped it up here. And
I got in with some young prigs in Whitechapel, and got took before the
beak, as wasn't for much; and he didn't give a fellow a chance, but put
on three months hard; and when I got out I couldn't get on, so I went
out with a chap a-catchin' birds and rats, and married his daughter. And
now I has a bird shop at Shoreditch, and a rat-pit, as was profitable
afore this 'ere draining was inwented, as gents bring their dogs to be
teached to kill rats first-rate, and sometimes they has a match on the
quiet; and they are gents as does it and pays up, and says as I am the
best rat-pit man they knows."
In reply to questions, the rat-pit man admitted that during the eighteen
years he had been in London he had only once been into a church, and
that was at his marriage. When reminded that he was the child of many
prayers, and of parents passed into the heavens, he was softened, and
said, "If I know'd somebody as is religious, I should be better; but I
doesn't know a religious chap, that I doesn't."
"Give me your address," said the visitor, "and I will ask a Missionary
gentleman who lives near, a friend of mine, to call upon you." This was
done, and the parties left the bar together.
The fourth compartment was crowded with persons of the degraded and
disorderly class, and it was evident that several men in one corner were
excited with liquor. In the centre was a large barrel, and round it
stood three women. One of them had turned a quart pot upside down upon
the barrel, and had seated her little child, about a year old, upon it.
She called for "a quartern and three outs" (three glasses to divide the
liquor), when the Missionary, who felt the difficulty of securing the
attention of such a people, approached with the exclamation: "Why, what
do you think? When the Saviour of the world was here, He took a little
child, a pretty little dear like that, and sat it in the midst of His
disciples, and said, 'Except ye be converted, and become as little
children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.'"
"Did He, sir?" exclaimed several.
"Yes: He did," was the reply; "and if you will listen to me I will tell
you what He meant."
At this the people gathered round the barrel, and the speaker, taking
the tiny hand in his, continued: "There is no mistake about the love of
a little darling like this. When it throws its arms around your neck you
know it's real love" ("That it is," said the mother, giving the child a
hug); "and the Saviour meant that we men and women, who are children of
the great Father in heaven, ought to love Him with all our hearts, and
do His holy will. Now I don't think that we all do this."
"I should think not," said a man with a coarse laugh. "If we did, we
shouldn't be a-getting drunk in here on a Sunday night."
"You are right," replied the visitor. "You are not like this pretty
child; you are bad children, and must, as Jesus said, be converted. The
great Father loves you, and sent His Son to tell you how to be made
good, and to die for your sins." Other words of exhortation were being
uttered, when the address was brought to a close by another group of
persons pressing into the bar.
This consisted of an old woman, and three young men of the _genus_
rough. The woman, who had been crying, and who had new weeds upon her
head, was reluctant to enter, as one of the men said to her, "Never
mind, mother; it's what we are all a-comin' to. He was a good un, as
respected was everywhere. Come in and have a drop of rum."
"And have you been," inquired the Missionary, "to bury the husband and
the father?"
"Yes, sir," replied the widow, sobbing. "We was married forty-two years,
and it's his first night in the cold grave, and I'm so miserable, and my
boys has brought me to give me some rum;" and then she sobbed so deeply
that the people looked at her with pity.
"Don't touch the rum," said the visitor, "but let me go home with you
and read from this blessed Book the comforting words which the merciful
God has said to widows;" and then they stepped out of the bar, the sons
following. They entered a house a few doors further on, and descended to
the back kitchen, which was dismal, and almost without furniture. Taking
a seat on the edge of the bedstead, the visitor read the account of the
widow of Zarephath, and such Scriptures as "The Lord relieveth the
fatherless and widow;" "Let thy widows trust in Me;" and then explained
to her the meaning of being "a widow indeed." The young men were deeply
interested, but when prayer was offered they stood up awkwardly, though
the mother knelt; it was evident that they had never bent the knee in
supplication. After more words of sympathy the widow was left much
comforted, and with the promise of another visit.
After this the Missionary passed through several other public-houses
with varied success, and scattered much precious seed. As the evening
was far advanced, he entered a large beer-shop, intending a final visit.
About thirty men and women of the lower class were standing, many of
them with their backs to the walls, as the landlord had removed the
seats to prevent his customers staying too long. Upon glancing round,
the visitor noticed a middle-aged man, whom he had not seen for several
years, and inquired of him where he had been?
"To prison, for assault upon a woman," he replied. "I was committed for
four years, and that wasn't much, as she will never get over it; and I'm
out six months afore time with a ticket-of-leave; and it was the drink
as made me do it, as I wouldn't hurt nobody."
"It's no use laying it to the drink," was the reply; "speak the truth,
and say that it was your love of the drink,--your vice that led you to
commit the crime. You may make excuse now, but the day is coming when
you will be tried again for that and for every offence of your life, as
we must all stand before the judgment seat of Christ; now mind, if you
are condemned by that Judge there will be no escape from the prison of
hell, to which you will be sent."
At the commencement of this conversation, the door swung open, and a man
of a baser sort entered. He listened; but brought the conversation to a
sudden close by clenching his fist, and with that malicious hiss which
bad men have, he addressed the Missionary, and said, "What business has
you in our shop, a-talking like that 'ere? for two pins I'd smash in
your frontispiece."
The ticket-of-leave man frowned, and holding out his right arm with
extended finger and thumb gave a peculiar jerk and exclaimed, "If you
does I'll garotte you." And a woman, whose sister the visitor had placed
in a reformatory, fearing that he would be injured, rushed before him
with a half-scream. The rough, who was evidently astonished at the good
feeling which existed between the Christian teacher and the persons of
his own class, stepped back; but as the attention of the debased crowd
in the bar was directed towards him, the visitor raised his hand and
said loudly, "Never mind: I am not hurt. But it was just so hundreds of
years ago, when the Saviour of the world was here. He used to feed
hungry people, and heal the sick, and give eyesight to the blind; but
there were men who smote Him with the fist of wickedness, and who cried
out, 'Crucify Him, crucify Him,' and then they nailed Him to a cross."
The speaker then dropped his voice to a solemn note, and continued,
"Yes; and--
'It was for such as you He died,
For such that He was crucified,
For such He reigns above.'"
The effect was startling, as that congregation of the wicked stood in
silent awe; while the landlord and his barmen leaned forward to listen.
A few more earnest words were uttered, and the evangelist stepped out,
wiping the perspiration from his brow. The rough at almost the same
moment passed out at the other door, and approaching the Missionary,
said, "I ax yer pardon, guv'nor; but I wouldn't 'urt a hair of your
'ed."
"I feel all right toward you, so never mind," was the kind reply,
enforced with a friendly touch of the arm. "You sees, guv'nor," the
rough continued, "as I am a bad un, as I had a month for beating my old
woman, and its becos I ain't hedicated, cos if a chap ain't hedicated
he's nuffin."
From this speech it was evident that the man had a desire for
instruction, and the visitor felt that to impart this would give him a
power which might lead to a moral and spiritual regeneration; he
therefore inquired if he would like to know how to read and write?
"Oh, shouldn't I: that's all!"
"Well then, if you have the mettle in you to stick to your book, which
is hard work for a man of forty, I will spend an hour with you once or
twice a week, and teach you."
The poor rough looked astonished, wriggled in a strange manner, and then
gave expression to his feelings, by exclaiming, "If you does, master,
when I gets into work I'll treat you to a day in the country."
His friend could but smile at this singular ebullition of grateful
feeling, though he knew the force of its meaning. To men like him, pent
up in the density of the mighty city, a day in the country is the
greatest conceivable enjoyment, and to promise that showed that the man
had a soul, and perhaps a latent taste for the beautiful.
As it was necessary that the teacher should know where the man lived, he
went with him down one of those narrow, dirty streets, where the people
live in comfort as regards thieves: as they have nothing to be robbed
of, they allow their doors to remain open all night. The man entered one
of these open doors, and ascended the stair-case, in thick darkness; his
step was evidently known, as a woman came out of the back attic, holding
in her hand a blacking bottle, in which was a piece of candle. All
doubts as to her being his wife was set at rest, by the rough
introducing his new acquaintance in the following elegant language,
"'Ere Sarah, 'ere's a gent I've picked up in a beer shop." To the
embarrassment of the dirty, ragged woman, the visitor entered the room;
and a deplorable room it was,--a drunkard's home. The floor was dirty,
without a piece of carpet, and several of the panes of glass were broken
and pasted over with pieces of brown paper, greased to admit a little
light. There was only one broken chair, and a sieve-basket, covered with
a rusty tea-tray, formed another seat. The table was evidently the
safest piece of goods, as the wife invited her visitor to take a seat
upon it. There was no bedstead, but an accumulation of rags in one
corner covered two dirty little children. The poor woman had that
crushed and wretched expression of face so common among the wives of
this class of men. A quarter of an hour's conversation set her at ease
and secured her good-will. Before leaving, the visitor, who had taken
his seat upon the table, opened his Bible and read, while the woman
stood with her light in the blacking bottle on one side of him, and her
brutal but now subdued husband upon the other.
[Illustration: The Back Attic]
A few evenings after, the Missionary, as arranged, entered the room with
the spelling-book in his hand, to give the first lesson, and was glad to
find the rough at home, and to return, with a pleasant smile, his gruff
salutation of, "Thought as how you wasn't a-coming; but thank'ee,
guv'nor, for doing on it." He then fairly seized the Primer, and
repeated the alphabet so vigorously, that his intention of "being
hedicated in no time" was evident, even if he had not said so. The book
was left with him, and upon the next lesson-evening his wife told the
teacher that "Bill had bin a A-ing, and B-ing, and B A-ing, ever since
he com'd up there afore." Lesson succeeded lesson for many weeks, and
though the task was distasteful to both parties, the rough got on
exceedingly well, and at the end of three months he was able to read
easy lesson books. From that time there was evidence of a change passing
over the family. The understood rule of the London City Mission, that no
visit be completed without the reading or repeating of some portion of
Holy Scripture, had been observed, and as the result, much of that Word,
the entering of which into the soul gives light, had been read to this
poor man and his wife. There was a change in their home, for the teacher
one evening noticed two new chairs and a piece of carpet; after this,
several gaudy pictures and a fender were introduced, and then the rags
were removed, and a punch and judy bedstead (a thing that turns up in
the corner) set up in its place.
"You are getting on in the world," observed their friend one evening, as
he glanced round the room.
The man looked unutterable things at his wife, and said, "Should think
we are, sir; and I'll let the cat out of the bag, as they sayes: and
this is that ere cat. Arter you had been a-readin' and a-'elpin' me one
night I walks out, and as I passed the Tom and Jerry where I picked you
up, some old pals says, 'Come in and have a little heavy wet!' and in I
goes; and then we went into the tother corner, and I stood some gin, as
with the tother got into my 'ed; and when I was turned out I seed a
Peeler, and wolunteered to fight 'im. So he takes me by the choker and
walks me along, and my old woman, as was looking for me, comes up and
begged the Peeler not to trot me in, as makes a charge. So, bein' soft
'arted, he gived me to her; and when I got up 'ere I was sober like, and
said I, I will be a Christian, like as the gent reads of, what eat pigs'
wittles, and went back to his Father; and I'll be teetotal to-morrow. So
in the morning I had a pen'orth of coffee at the total shop, and hopened
my mind to the gal what brought it; and she told the guv'nor, and he
brings a book, and I put a scratch in it, and I haven't had a drop of
the public stuff never since; and we said we'd say nothin' to you till
we had been teetotal a month, and it's more than that now."
The man was commended for his resolution, and when the lesson was over,
the Book was opened and the parable of the Prodigal Son again read and
more fully explained, and then the family altar was set up in that poor
room, as the man with his wife and children knelt together in prayer.
Soon after this the man obtained employment in a timber yard, to empty
sawdust from the pits, and his improvement, indeed his uprising in the
social scale, became rapid. One evening his teacher took a very dear
friend to see him,--the talented author of "Our Father's Care," and
"Mother's Last Words." Reaching a Bible from the chest of drawers (for
they had risen to that dignity), he said, "Do, mum, hear me read, as I
does it well like. When I seed that gent in a beer bar I was a-goin' to
smash at him, but he has learned me to read first rate." He then read
the fifth chapter of St. Matthew's Gospel; and as the lady afterwards
remarked, "he read it well, as he seemed to feel the force of every
word." After this he gave evidence of a renewed nature, and became a
living proof that grace can change a rough into a quiet and peaceable
man, and that it is possible to pluck bad men from among the ungodly, as
brands from the everlasting burning.
* * * * *
NOTE.--Eleven years have passed since Mrs. Sewell's visit to the rough,
and we take the opportunity of revising for a new edition, to add that
the man and his wife have stood firm to temperance principles. It was
long, several years, before he joined a Congregational Church, and like
many such he was an unobtrusive member, but his life was right. The
appearance of his wife became so altered that she obtained work at
charing, and their home possessed an appearance of real comfort. The
eldest of the children, first seen on the rags, a girl, has obtained a
place as nursemaid in a tradesman's family, and the rest bid fair to do
well. Renewed proof, this, of the power of the religion of the Lord
Jesus to convert the soul, to enforce holy living, and to bless the
rising generation. Why then should any be lost for lack of knowledge?
Why should not all the people be instructed in the law of the Lord? each
individual receiving the call to repentance, faith, and the blessed
hope.
The Book in the Bars:
ITS RECEPTION.
"A time will come, sir,--would that it were come,--
When righteousness shall reign in every home,
And the bless'd knowledge of the Lord shall be
As the great floods that overflow the sea,
And all things hurtful shall be swept away,
And earth rejoice in one long Sabbath Day;--
But _this_ is not that time. The serpent stings,
The adder biteth, and the drunkard sings
In mad carousal, while the British name
Grows a by-word for drunkenness and shame.
Oh, sir, dear sir, roll this reproach away,
And hasten on the glorious Sabbath Day,
When Christ shall reign in righteousness and peace,
And all the turmoil of the world shall cease:
Think of that time, and, for His glory's sake,
This tenfold work of mercy undertake."
_Mrs. Sewell._