A STRICKEN CITY.
It was not really until business time next morning, that London, that the
whole country, really fully awoke to the fact of the great event of the
previous night. Suburbans, in many cases, only heard the strange news on
their arrival at their particular railway stations. Even then, a hundred
rumours were the order of the moment. Everything reported was vague and
shadowy. There were a few rank unbelievers of the garbled stories of
the translation, who laughed sceptically, then began to grumble at the
strange disorganization of the Railway traffic.
More than one annoyed, belated traveller, remarked in similar terms to
the utterance of a commercial traveller, at Surbiton station:—
“If there is _any_ actual truth in this story of the secret translation
of a number of religious people, then the mysterious taking away of so
many signal-men, and engine-men, will be an eye-opener to the travelling
public, who never, somehow, suppose that Christianity is a strong factor
in the lives of railway men.”
“It is a revelation in another way,” remarked a second, “since it
suggests _why_ we have hitherto had so few railway accidents, _compared
with other nations_.”
The tens and hundreds of thousands, the millions, poured into London as
usual. But the snap had gone out of most of them. A horrible sense of
foreboding, was upon the spirits of the travellers. As the newspapers
more fully confirmed the news, London approached perilously near the
verge of a general panic.
The newspapers were bought up with phenomenal eagerness. “Souf Efriken
War worn’t in it, fur clearin’ out peepers!” a street seller remarked.
But few of the morning papers, (except the “Courier”) had anything
special to say on the great event. Most of them, in fact, were absolutely
silent.
There were weather prophecies, political prophecies, financial
prophecies, social prophecies, sporting prophecies, commercial
prophecies,—but no prophecy of the Coming of the Christ.
The “Courier’s” rival had a brief note to the effect:—
“Some wild, senseless rumours were abroad in London last night, as to
the sudden, mysterious disappearance of numbers of the _ultra_ religious
persons of London, and elsewhere. Some people talked wildly of the end of
the world. We therefore despatched special commissioners, to ascertain
what truth there was in all this.
Our representative returned an hour and a half later, after having
visited all the chief places of amusement and principal restaurants. But
everywhere managers told the same story, ‘there has been no signs of the
end of the world in _our_ place. We are fuller than ever.’
The genial manager of the —— Theatre, assured our Representative, that no
later than last Sunday morning, he heard it repeated at his Church, that
‘as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, _world without
end_, Amen.’ So that, for the life of him, he could not conceive any one
being such a fool as to talk of the end of the world.”
But the note of the “Courier’s” clarion call had no uncertain sound.
Besides all that we have already seen written in the office by the
translated Tom Hammond, and afterwards by Ralph Bastin, the latter had
added to his postscript, another. It was a solemn, a pathetic word, and
ran as follows:
“Our sheets must go to press in a few moments, if the “Courier” is to be
in the hands of its readers at the usual hour. But before we print, we
feel compelled to add a word or two more to what we wrote two hours ago.
“During the last two hours, we have made many discoveries, not the
least of which, from the _personal_ standpoint, is the fact, that the
nearest and dearest being to our own heart and life, one whose life and
thought, of late, has been strangely taken up by the Christ of God, is
missing. She has shared in the glory and joy of the wondrous, mysterious,
and—to _most_ of us, to _all_ of us surely who are _left_—_unexpected_
translation.
“We have no wish or intention to parade our own personal griefs before
our readers, but dare to say that no journalist ever worked with a more
broken, crushed sense of life, than did we during the two hours we
afterwards spent in searching London for facts.
“One curious fact which we speedily discovered, was, that no one had
been taken in this wondrous translation, from any of the Theatres or
music-halls. In the old days—four _hours_ ago, seems, to look back to,
like four centuries—before this awfully solemn event, discussions arose,
periodically, in certain religious and semi-religious journals, as to
whether _true_ Christians could attend the theatre and music-hall.”
“The fact that no one appears to have been translated from any of these
London houses of amusement, answers, we think, that question, as it has
never been answered before.”
Here followed a brief _resume_ of his experiences in other quarters. Then
in big black type he asked the question:—
“WHAT FOLLOWS, (ACCORDING TO THE BIBLE PROGRAM) THIS STUPENDOUS
EVENT?—The Bible, evidently, (when read aright) told those, who have been
taken from our midst, that this translation was approaching, then it must
surely give some hint of what we may expect to follow so startling an
episode as that of to-night. The question is, _what_ follows?”
“There must surely be many clergymen and ministers who knew _about_ this
great translation, who though not living in the spirit of what they knew,
and being therefore left behind, like the common ruck of those of us,
who were carelessly ignorant—there must be many such ministers left, who
could teach us _now, what_ to expect _next_, and _how_ to prepare for the
next eruption—whatever form it may take.”
“We therefore propose to any such ministers, that they gather us into
the Albert Hall, Agricultural Hall, St. Paul’s Cathedral, Spurgeon’s
Tabernacle, Whitfields—why not, in fact, into every church, chapel,
Salvation Army Barracks, or even in the great open spaces such as Hyde
Park, and other Parks, Primrose Hill, Hampstead Heath, etc., and teach
us, who are left behind from the wondrous Translation, that has just
occurred, how to be prepared for the next mighty change, for we believe
the bulk of us are absolutely in the dark.”
“Meanwhile, are there no houses in Paternoster Row, and its
neighbourhood, where books and pamphlets on these momentous subjects can
be obtained, or are all such publishers translated with those of whom we
have been writing?”
One effect of the last suggestion, in Bastin’s _second_ postscript, was
to send thousands of people to Paternoster Row, the Square, Ivy Lane,
and all the neighbourhood. Some of the publishers of books on the Lord’s
Second Coming, _had_ been _left_ behind, had _not_ shared in the Rapture
of which they had printed and published.
Storekeepers, packers, masters, clerks, were most of them reading up the
contents of their own wares. Business system among them, at first, seemed
an unknown quantity. Deadness, amaze, fear, uncertainty, all of these
things held and dominated them.
But they had to wake up. Their counters were besieged. Hordes of people
thronged the doors. In twenty minutes after the first great influx, there
was not a tract, a booklet, or a volume, on the “Lord’s coming, and the
events to follow,” left in the “Row.”
At any other time those in command of the stores, would have tried to
get the printing presses at work, to run off some hundreds of thousands
of the briefest of the “Second Advent” literature. But, to-day, fear,
nameless fear held every one in thrall.
The “Row” put up shutters, and went home—or at least got away from
business.
Business, everywhere, was at a standstill. By eleven o’clock most of
the city houses were closed. Some of the banks never opened at all.
Throgmorton Street and the Stock Exchange were in a state of dazed
incredulity. A few members were missing, and these were known to be
“Expectants” of the Translation.
“Salvation S——, is gone!” some one called out.
“Aye!” cried another, “I’d give all I possess, or ever hoped to possess,
to be where he is now. I remember how he tried and prayed to persuade me
once to——”
There was a rush of members across “The Floor” at that moment. Some one
had a proposition to make, namely a trip to 101 Queen Victoria Street, to
see if there were any Salvationists left there. A little band, about a
dozen, responded, and the silk-hatted, excited little crowd swept away on
their curious quest.