Billy Bray, 1852.
After the events narrated in Chapter 10, and when all the people who
dwelt on the hill on which the church was built were converted, there
came upon the scene a very remarkable person, who had evidently been
kept back for a purpose. This was none other than the veritable and well
known "Billy Bray."* One morning, while we were sitting at breakfast, I
heard some one walking about in the hall with a heavy step, saying,
"Praise the Lord! Praise the Lord!" On opening the door, I beheld a
happy-looking little man, in a black Quaker-cut coat, which it was very
evident had not been made for him, but for some much larger body. "Well,
my friend," I said, "who are you?"
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* See "The King's Son; or, Life of Billy Bray," by F. W. Bourne.
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"I am Billy Bray," he replied, looking steadily at me with his twinkling
eyes; "and be you the parson?"
"Yes, I am."
"Thank the Lord! Converted, are ye?"
"Yes, thank God."
"And the missus inside" (pointing to the dining-room), "be she
converted?"
"Yes, she is."
"Thank the dear Lord!" he said, moving forward.
I made way for him, and he came stepping into the room; then making a
profound bow to the said "missus," he asked, "Be there any maidens
(servants)?"
"Yes, there are three in the kitchen."
"Be they converted too?"
I was able to answer in the affirmative; and as I pointed towards the
kitchen door when I mentioned it, he made off in that direction, and
soon we heard them all shouting and praising God together. When we went
in, there was Billy Bray, very joyful, singing,
"Canaan is a happy place;
I am bound for the land of Canaan."
We then returned to the dining-room with our strange guest, when he
suddenly caught me up in his arms and carried me around the room. I was
so taken by surprise, that it was as much as I could do to keep myself
in an upright position, till he had accomplished the circuit. Then he
set me in my chair and rolling on the ground for joy, said that he "was
as happy as he could live." When this performance was at an end, he rose
up with a face that denoted the fact, for it was beaming all over. I
invited him to take some breakfast with us, to which he assented with
thanks. He chose bread and milk, for he said, "I am only a child."
I asked him to be seated, and gave him a chair; but he preferred walking
about, and went on talking all the time. He told us that twenty years
ago, as he was walking over this very hill on which my church and house
were built (it was a barren old place then), the Lord said to him, "I
will give thee all that dwell in this mountain." Immediately he fell
down on his knees and thanked the Lord, and then ran to the nearest
cottage. There he talked and prayed with the people, and was enabled to
bring them to Christ; then he went to the next cottage, and got the same
blessing; and then to a third, where he was equally successful. Then he
told "Father" that there were only three "housen" in this mountain, and
prayed that more might be built. That prayer remained with him, and he
never ceased to make it for years. The neighbours, who heard his prayer
from time to time, wondered why he should ask for "housen" to be built
in such an "ungain" place.
At last, after sixteen years, he received a letter from his brother
James, to say that they were hacking up the "croft" to plant trees, and
that they were going to build a church on the hill. He was "fine and
glad," and praised the Lord. Again he did so, when his brother wrote to
say there was a vicarage to be built on the same hill, and a schoolroom
also. He was almost beside himself with joy and thankfulness for all
this.
In the year 1848, when the church was completed and opened, he came on a
visit to Baldhu, and was greatly surprised to see what a change had
taken place. There was a beautiful church, a parsonage, with a
flourishing garden, and also a schoolroom, with a large plantation and
fields round them. He was quite "'mazed," for he never thought that the
old hill could be made so grand as that! However, when he went to the
service in the church, his joy was over; he came out "checkfallen," and
quite disappointed. He told "Father" that that was nothing but an "old
Pusey" He had got there, and that he was no good. While he was praying
that afternoon, "Father" gave him to understand that he had no business
there yet, and that he had come too soon, and without permission. So he
went back to his place at once, near Bodmin, and continued to pray for
the hill.
After three years his brother James wrote again; 'and this time it was
to tell him that the parson and all his family were converted, and that
there was a great revival at the church. Now poor Billy was most eager
to come and see this for himself, but he obtained no permission, though
he asked and looked for it every day for more than three months.
At last, one wintry and frosty night in January, about half-past eleven
o'clock, just as he was getting into bed, "Father" told him that he
might go to Baldhu. He was so overjoyed, that he did not wait till the
morning, but immediately "put up" his clothes again, "hitched in" the
donkey, and set out in his slow-going little cart. He came along singing
all the way, nearly thirty miles and arrived early in the morning.
Having put up his donkey in my stable, he came into the house, and
presented himself, as I have already stated, in the hall, praising God.
We were a long time over breakfast that morning, for the happy man went
on from one thing to another, "telling of the Lord," as he called it,
assuring us again and again that he was "fine and glad, and very
happy"--indeed, he looked so. He said there was one thing more he must
tell us; it was this--that he had a "preaching-house" (what we should
now call a mission-room), which he had built years ago. He had often
prayed there for "this old mountain," and now he should dearly love to
see me in the pulpit of that place, and said that he would let me have
it for my work. He went on to say that he had built it by prayer and
faith, as "Father" sent him help, and that he and another man had built
it with their own hands. One day he was short of money to buy timber to
finish the roof; his mate said it would take two pounds' worth; so he
asked the Lord for this sum, and wondered why the money did not come,
for he felt sure that he was to have it. A farmer happened to look in
the next morning, and Billy thought he had come with the money, but he
merely asked them what they were doing, and then took his departure,
without giving them help. All that day they waited in expectation, and
went home in the evening without having done any work. The next morning
the same farmer appeared again, and said, "What do you want two pounds
for?" "Oh," said Billy, "you are come, are you? We want that money for
the roof yonder." The farmer then went on to say, "Two days ago it came
to my mind to give two pounds for the preaching house, but as I was
coming down the hill on yesterday morning, something said to me, 'if you
give one pound it will be handsome; then I thought I would give only
half-a-sovereign; and then that I would give nothing. Why should I? But
the Lord laid it on my mind last night that I must give you two pounds.
There it is!"
"Thank the Lord!" said Billy, and proceeded immediately to get the
required timber. In answer to prayer he also obtained "reed" for
thatching the roof, and by the same means timber for the forms and
seats.
It was all done in a humble manner, so that he did not dream of buying
any pulpit; but one day, as he was passing along the road, he saw that
they were going to have a sale at the "count-house" of an old mine. He
went in, and the first thing which met his eye was a strong oak
cupboard, with a cornice around the top. It struck him that it would
make a grand pulpit, if only it was-strong enough: on examination, he
found it all he could desire in this respect. He thought if he could
take off the top and make a "plat" to stand upon, it would do
"first-rate." He "told Father" so, and wondered how he could get it. He
asked a stranger who was there, walking about, what he thought that old
cupboard would go for? "Oh, for about five or six shillings," was the
reply. And while Billy was pondering how to "rise" six shillings, the
same man came up and said, "What do you want that cupboard for, Billy?"
He did not care to tell him, for he was thinking and praying about it.
The man said, "There are six shillings for you; buy it if you will."
Billy took the money, thanking the Lord. and impatiently waited for the
sale. No sooner was the cupboard put up, than he called out, "Here,
maister, here's six shillin's for un," and he put the money down on the
table. "Six shillings bid," said the auctioneer--"six shillings--thank
you; seven shillings; any more for that good old cupboard? Seven
shillings. Going--going--gone!" And it was knocked down to another man.
Poor Billy was much disappointed and perplexed at this, and could not
understand it at all. He looked about for the man who had given him the
six shillings, but in vain--he was not there. The auctioneer told him to
take up his money out of the way. He complied, but did not know what to
do with it. He went over a hedge into a field by himself, and told
"Father" about it; but it was all clear--"Father" was not angry about
anything. He remained there an hour, and then went homewards.
As he was going along, much troubled in his mind as to this experience
(for he still felt so sure he was to have that cupboard for a pulpit),
he came upon a cart standing outside a public-house with the very
cupboard upon it, and some men were measuring it with a foot rule. As he
came up, he heard them say, "It is too large to go in at the door, or
the window either." The publican who had bought it said, "I wish I had
not bid for the old thing at all; it is too good to 'scat' up for
firewood." At that instant it came to Billy's mind to say, "Here, I'll
give you six shillings for un." "Very well," said the man, taking the
money; "you can have him." Then Billy began to praise the Lord, and went
on to say, "'Father' as good as told me that I was to have that
cupboard, and He knew I could not carry him home on my back, so He found
a horse and cart for me. Bless the Lord!" Promising to bring it back
very soon, he led the horse down the hill, and put the old cupboard into
the preaching-house. "There it is!" he exclaimed, "and a fine pulpit he
does make, sure enough! Now," said Billy, "I want to see thee in it.
When will you come?" I could not fix for that day, or the next, trot
made arrangements to conduct a series of services the next week, and
promised to have them in that place.
Before he left us, he made a particular inquiry about the two other
houses which had been built, who lived in them, and especially if all
the "dwellers were converted." Then he declared his intention to go and
see the parties, and rejoice with them, and testify how fully the Lord
had accomplished the promise He gave him upon that very hill, twenty
years before.
According to promise, I went to Billy Bray's preaching-house, or
mission-hall. It was the first time that I had preached anywhere outside
my church and schoolroom since my conversion. There it pleased the Lord
to give me much help, and a great work followed, such as Billy had never
seen in that place before. Several times we were detained there all
night through, with penitents crying aloud for mercy, and believers
rejoicing.
As a rule, the Cornish man would remain at a meeting for hours, and come
again the next day, and the day after, if needful, till he felt that he
could cry for mercy, and then he would begin and continue crying until
he felt he could believe.
At the conclusion of these services we returned to the schoolroom, where
our meetings were continued.
Our friend Billy remained with us at Baldhu, and was very useful. He
spoke in the schoolroom with much acceptance and power in the simplicity
of his faith, and souls were added to the Lord continually.
At this time he was very anxious for a cousin of his, a man somewhat
older than himself, of the same name. This Billy was as famous for his
drunkenness and dissolute habits, as the other Billy was for his faith
and joy. The former used to go by the name of the "lost soul." The very
children in the lanes called after him, "Ah, Billy, you are a lost
soul," and laughed at him. I was then in the freshness and power of my
first love, and could not help regarding this pitiable object, and
considering his case; for I could not imagine why any man should remain
unsaved and without Christ.
Accordingly, one wet morning, when I felt pretty sure that old Billy
would not be out working in the field, I made my way down to his house.
As I expected, he was at home in his chimney comer; so setting down my
dripping umbrella, I told him how glad I was to find him there, for I
wanted to have a talk with him.
"Ah, it's all very well for you gentlemen, who have none else to do but
to go about and talk; but we poor men must work." So saying, he rose up
from his "settle" and went to the door.
"But, Billy, it is raining quite hard; you cannot work in rain like
that."
"Can't help it; we must do our work," and so he slammed the door after
him and departed.
His wife made all kinds of apologies for him, because "he was a very
singular kind of man; he did not mean bad--he was 'that curious,' that
he said and did curious things, and that I must not mind him."
I confess I was much disappointed at his abrupt departure from the
house, but I remained a little longer, till the worst of the storm was
over.
After the lapse of nearly a quarter of an hour, Billy crept back to the
door, and lifting the latch quietly, whispered to his wife, "Is the
passon gone?"
"No, Billy," I said, "here I am. Come in out of the wet. I am so glad
you have come back."
"What d'yer want with me?" he inquired. "I want to talk to you about
your soul. I have been thinking much about you lately, Billy. They call
you a 'lost soul.'"
"What's that to you?"
"Ah, a great deal," I said, "because I have a message for lost people. I
am not a doctor for the body; my business is about the soul."
"I ain't so bad as all that yet," he replied.
"But you are bad enough, Billy--bad enough."
"Yes, indeed," interposed his wife.
"You hold yer tongue; you're no better."
I beckoned to her to be still, and went on to say, "You are bad enough,
Billy, for an old man. How old are you?"
"Up seventy years."
"Seventy years!" I repeated. "Well, now, that's a great age--that's the
age of man. Threescore years and ten! It is like giving you notice to
give up the keys of the old tabernacle. I wonder why God spares your
life? I am afraid you have been a cumberer of the ground all this time,
Billy. Do you know why the good Lord has spared you for so long?"
"I can't tell," he said, getting more and more impatient.
"Well, do you know, I think I can tell you. He is such a loving and
merciful God, He wants to have mercy on you. You could not have greater
proof of it, could you? You set a horribly bad example; you do nothing
but drink, and smoke, and swear. You have asked God to damn your soul
over and over again, and yet here you are still. Why is this?"
He did not answer, but seemed interested; so I went on to speak of the
forbearance of God towards him. I said, "Billy, do you know that I think
the Lord wants to have mercy on you? He wants to save you!" As he
listened, I went on to tell him that God loved him, and gave His Son to
die for him. Then I proceeded to speak of the wonderful patience and
long-suffering of God--a kind of crown upon His love; and what a shame
it was to sin against such love as this.
Poor Billy looked at me with tears in his eyes, and said, "You are a
dear man!"
"Dear man!" I answered. "What, then, is God, if I am 'dear' only for
telling you of His love? Ah, Billy, take and give your heart to God at
once. He is waiting for you. It is a shame to refuse such a God."
I knelt down and began to pray for him. He soon fell on his knees too,
and sobbed aloud; then he commenced to pray in his own way. He needed
much teaching, so when he rose from his knees I said to him, "Now,
Billy, I have been to see you; it is your turn to some and see me next.
When will you come?"
"This afternoon," he said. "Very good; come this afternoon." And he did.
More than that, this poor "lost soul" found peace in my study, to his
great joy; and he was not ashamed to acknowledge it openly, nor afraid
to praise God for His great goodness.
The same evening he stood up in the schoolroom meeting, and told the
people what the Lord had done for his soul. There was great excitement
that night, and well there might be, for every one knew what a daring
and wicked man he had been. One man said that "if a corpse had come out
of the churchyard and spoken, he could not have been more frightened"
(more surprised, he meant).
Old Billy's conversion gave a new and fresh impetus to the work, and
many more souls were added to the Lord.
This dear man lived for three months after this, verifying the words I
was led to say to him at the beginning of our intercourse--that the Lord
was keeping him alive in order to have mercy upon him. At the end of
this time, his daughter came to me one morning in great haste, and said,
"Father is dying, and does so want to see you. Will you come?" I went
immediately. On reaching his house and entering: his bedroom, his wife
said, "You are too late; he is dead!" Softly I moved forward to the bed,
and looking on that face once more, I thought that I could still see
signs of life. Pressing his cold hand, I spoke a few words about the
loving kindness of the Lord. He knew me, and a smile brightened his face
at the precious name of Jesus. While we stood silently round his dying
bed, he said (evidently in reference to what he had heard), "not dead;
just beginning to live." Thus, with a sweet, triumphant smile, he
departed.